#bucky would literally die for u but

[rcbertleckie]

You know, when I was a kid, I built a homemade crystal radio. I'm thinking of giving it a try in here. Won't be as good as our old one but might work good enough.

MASTERS OF THE AIR · part seven — for anon

[jiarkives]

livestream

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ summary — you ask your boyfriend to watch your followers.

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ character — bucky barnes (marvel)

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ content — fluff

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ notes — rushed ending WEEWOOWEEWOO also, this is based on @loveisallyouneed1125’s idea, i just added a ~little~ twist to it. i hope this is to your liking, bestie! 🤍

~

Occasionally, you would do a cooking and baking livestream where you would teach your followers how to cook certain dishes or bake, while you talk to them about other stuff. Your teammates would sometimes pop in and talk for a few minutes before leaving you to your thing once more.

Today, however, you had decided to let Bucky join you since your followers have been asking you for more boyfriend content with Bucky.

So you quickly set up your phone on the kitchen counter, making sure to leave enough space for you to work while also being in the camera’s view, then you went live.

You and Bucky waited for your followers to flood in, greeting some of them as they left comments and greetings. Although most of them were just smashing their keyboards and emojis, you still did your best to greet them.

After a few minutes, you got started on your baking with Bucky helping. You had mutually decided on baking chocolate chip cookies, finding it the easiest to bake together. Throughout the process, you occasionally gave out instructions to both Bucky and the viewers.

“Okay, you guys, let me just pop these into the oven real quick,” you said as you placed the last piece of dough on the baking tray. “Babe, can you please watch them while I do this?”

While you were busy with the cookies, Bucky watched the comments like a hawk, staring at them as they flooded in.

User 1: dude you’re literally so fucking cool

“Someone said a swear!” Bucky called out to you as he continued staring at the camera, his eyes narrowed.

“Tell them not to swear, it’s bad,” you chided like how a mother would to her child.

Bucky then recited the username of the commenter, pointing at the camera, “You better watch your language, kid. Your mama’s not going to like that. Mine certainly did not.”

The comments were flooded with all kinds of keyboard and emoji smashes, and words that are borderline incoherent as they reacted to you and Bucky acting like strict parents.

User 1: sorry mom and dad 😔

User 2: pls adopt me y’all are literally my parents

User 3: do u guys need a dog i can bark

User 4: ilysm pls dont die yet

“I don’t think your parents would appreciate you having Avengers as your new parents. Sorry, kid.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “No, we don’t need a dog. We already have Sam. And no, I’m not dying anytime soon. Thanks for your concern, I guess...”

Sam, who was currently in the livestream, spammed the comments with all sorts of insults for Bucky. He, of course, ignored them all, but not without rolling his eyes.

User 5: i’m gonna tell my friends i spent time with the avengers on the weekends 😎

“Well then, tell your friends I said hi.”

“Tell them I did too!” You said as you came into the camera’s view. “And you seem like you’re having fun without me. I am very hurt.”

User 6: NOOOO we love you mom!!!!

User 7: mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry. mommy? sorry.

You snorted as you saw the comment, while Bucky’s brows furrowed, “What does that even mean?”

You laughed, “I’ll teach you all those slangs later, babe.”

[johnslittlespoon]

when/ how do u think buck and bucky first noticed how easily embarrassed curt is and how badly he wants to be sweet and obedient for them?

also, i read ur response about the first time gale spanked john and i’m curious about how that would go for curt. was it a spur of the moment thing egged on by one of them or did the two of them decide beforehand it’s what they were gonna do? i feel like they’d try it and then take note of how effective it is when curt immediately gets red in the face and starts whining and apologizing 😅 the added plus comes in the days following when he’s especially sweet and well behaved and continues to flush if it gets brought up i’m dead

ooo hmmm. i think they first notice because curt is generally a loud, rowdy boy, so when something throws him off, it's immediately clear because curt going quiet and shy is such a 180 from his usual self.

in terms of being easily embarrassed, one of them would probably poke a little fun at how fast he's gotten worked up one day, and they wouldn't expect the quick flush and the mumbled retort, and they'd have to investigate that asap. egging it on with an "oh, going all shy on us now?" just to see their pretty thing squirm under their eyes <3

the itch to be good would be spotted so fast i think; i see it happening on a day that's a little more rough for curt, when he's feeling antsy and having too many thoughts at once, and it materializes in the form of him being mouthy and snappy. so john and gale take it upon themselves to help him get out of his head, and they're surprised at how fast he quiets when they're giving him clear verbal instructions, coaxing his mouth around them, telling him how to move, setting rules so he doesn't have to do any thinking. so that becomes their go–to when his mind is too busy, because sometimes he's not being mouthy to be a brat, he's being mouthy because he doesn't know how else to get out his feelings.

and i feel like there wasn't a lot of general knowledge about kink negotiation during this time period LOL so i feel like 95% of what they'd try together would be impulse/spur of the moment stuff, a lot of trial and error to see what clicks and what squicks yk.

i think one of them, probably john because he has less patience than gale does (gale is used to dealing with both john and curt's bullshit– he's got the patience of a saint lol) would impulsively bend curt over the edge of the bed in a moment of irritation at him talking back or being difficult, and he'd give him a quick swat on the ass and curt's words would literally die mid sentence and he'd go red and press his cheek into the mattress with a gasp and gale and john would have the lightbulb moment when they glance at each other.

john going "oh, whaddya think of that?" as he smooths his hand over the red, and curt would whine quietly before john abruptly brings his hand down again and draws out a little yelp from curt. all it would take is gale leaning over him and gently lifting his head with a hand in his hair to get curt to look up at him, all flushed and heavy–lidded, forcing him to hold eye contact when john smacks his ass again, and curt would be whimpering out apologies and pleas despite the way he borderline moans with each hit.

it wouldn't take much to have him whining and wriggling where john inevitably pins his hips down to keep him still, and they'd probably bring a bit of humiliation into it too, gale pointing out that "you're whining and complaining, but the way you're rocking against the mattress tells a different story, sweet thing" just to get him even more worked up. (◠‿◠✿)

[lnfours]

don't know if you'll write for peter parker but one where reader is a cop and she gets shot helping peter on a case. you can decide on happy ending or not

here u go nonnie (i changed it around a little bit, i hope that’s okay 🫶🏻)

blurb night

peter knew he shouldn’t have let you join him tonight while he was patrolling. he knew that it was a bad idea to say yes to those puppy dog eyes as he tried escaping through your bedroom window at the tower.

but here the both of you were anyway, because really, no one could say no to that face.

would mr. stark kill him for agreeing to let you come with? absolutely. was it worth it? absolutely.

the two of you were having fun, working together to stop the criminals on the streets of the city. that was until there was a mention of an armed robbery down in manhattan. that’s where peter really wished he had told you no.

you were both doing your thing, fighting the bad guys. 3 of them to be exact. and only one of them had a gun. peter was busy trying to web up the one with the duffel bag filled with jewelry when he heard it. it made his heart sink. he quickly looked over at you as you fell over, finishing up webbing the guy he had just fought before running over to you.

“y/n?” he asked, kneeling down on the ground. he held your shoulder as you groaned, trying to stop the blood from pouring out.

“son of a bitch! that hurts,” you lifted your hand up to peter, “help me up?”

he looked at you confused, “do you not want me to call an ambulance? i mean you literally just got shot.”

you shrugged, “i can make it to the med wing at the tower.”

he nodded, helping you up before slinging your good arm over his shoulder to help steady yourself from the pain that made you want to collapse.

“should’ve brought the suit.” he said, reminding you of the conversation the both of you had before you decided to go patrolling.

“yeah, yeah, whatever,” you mumbled, “i just want to feel helpful and useful even when i don’t have the suit. i want to learn how to be more than the suit.”

peter nodded his head, “yeah, mr. stark taught me a lesson about that a long time ago. ‘if you’re nothing without the suit, then you shouldn’t have it’.”

you nodded next to him, “exactly. and right now i’m nothing. i’m nobody.”

you held onto him as he swing towards the tower, “you’re not nobody, you just need to get in the ring with bucky little more.”

you chuckled, “he’d put me on my ass in one second.”

“yeah, but he’s a great teacher when it comes to combat.”

you both landed at the tower, sneaking back through your open bedroom window. you let him help you to the med wing, groaning when peter sat you down in the chair. he took his mask off before rummaging through the cabinets for some gauze and something to get the bullet out. you watched as he sat down next to you, a soft smile on his face as he looked up at you.

“can you uh… take your shirt off?” he asked, his ears turning slightly pink. you chuckled, nodding your head as he helped you get your arm through the sleeve. once the shirt was off, he put it off to the side, leaving you in the tank top you wore underneath. the beeps from the code on the door filled the room and you sighed softly as tony entered the room.

“what in the hell were you thinking?”

“look, i just wanted to go patrolling with peter, okay? what’s everyone got against that?”

“this!” tony exclaimed, “this is what i have against it.”

“i’m fine,” you said, “can we please just not do this right now?”

he looked at you, and looked back over at peter who was working on getting the bullet out of the tissue of your shoulder. he walked over and stood behind him, watching his mentee work.

“it didn’t go deep enough for you to die, or to do any permanent damage to your shoulder, but we should probably stitch it up and get it out so it doesn’t cause infection.”

you looked down at peter, “how do you know all this?”

he smiled softly, “may taught me. when she first found out i was spider-man, she’d stitch me up after lecturing me about how i should be more careful.”

you chuckled softly, “god bless may parker.”

[jackfrombaskinrobbins]

sam wilson x teen!reader headcanons

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 634

request: yes / no

original request: omg hi!! i absolutely adore your writing 💕 would you be open to doing some headcanons for sam wilson and a teen!reader? have a wonderful day, love <;33

dynamic: sam wilson x teen!reader

characters: sam wilson, reader

a/n: heh inspiration struck so two in one day it is 😈😈 i LOVED writing this request omg. i'm totally obsessed w/ sam wilson so i was sooo happy this was requested!! ty anon :D

taglist: @nutellani @thecloudedmind

(fill out this form to be on my taglist!)

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sam gives such older brother vibes to me

like no matter how old u are he’ll always treat you like a little sibling

well he and bucky both

at this point they’re a package deal

a lot of ur time is spent settling their argument

“hey, y/n. who pulls off this hat the best?”

“y/n!!! pancakes or waffles??”

“y/n tell bucky he’s wrong.”

theres a lot of that LMAO

anyways i feel like he would make u do stuff with him

like fun little adventures

y’all learned to crochet together

and u were pretty good ngl

but poor sam kept missing stiches

you made little frogs and his looked not rly like a frog

but u loved it anyway ofc

the two of you usually do grocery runs together

that’s like high time for ur gossip 😏

i mean guys this is sam wilson

he def knows a LOT of stuff

but he’s really engaged with like ur school & home life

he always makes sure ur ok

he is totally the type to text and call regularly

he would go to ur parent teacher conferences if u needed him to

and then he’d tell u all his thoughts about the teacher after 😭 

he’s rly perceptive with emotions

i mean he was a therapist like what do u expect

but whenever he senses ur down he’ll do something really nice

and like cook u something

bc sam can COOK

like COOK

and he’ll try to make you laugh

which always works because he’s actually hilarious

speaking of he’s so funny on missions too

he’s always talking on the earpieces and like he’ll just say the funniest stuff

and he swears like a sailor JUST SAYING 🤪

he’s so the type to swear in front of you all the time but then the moment u swear he’s like “what did you say 🤨🤨”

also he always is asking u fashion advice

“ok y/n. blue shirt red pants? or red shirt blue pants?”

“sam do you really want to look like one fish two fish red fish blue fish”

“yeah i guess you’re right 😞”

he always acts sad and then the moment you feel bad he’s like “GOTCHA 😜”

also whenever he’s away he’ll send you a ton of pictures

a lot of them are selfies of him and bucky and steve 

and they’re so funny

like he’s not trying to be funny but he literally is like a facebook minion meme mom

oh also no offense to him but he’s an AWFUL driver 😭 

like he goes way too fast and his music is so loud

but he lets u choose it so u don’t mind 🤩

it’s always kind of fun going in the car with him

you always text natasha a picture of u with him in the driver’s seat in the background and you say “if i die u know why”

and she just goes “have fun”

lol

you and him go on runs together

and that’s rly fun

well ok ik running is hard

but as a runner its sooo much more fun suffering through it with someone else 🥳

whenever u run u do that like shareplay thing on spotify

and he always judges ur music like 😑

ok mr “i listen to the same album for like five months in a row”

oh he is so the type to take u on like one on one lunches and stuff

i think that’s smth the avengers would do with their younger members to make sure they’re alright

and he always does it with u bc ur best friends ofc ‼️

y’all are so petty to each other

but u do really think the world of him

and he thinks the world of you too 🫶

-----------------------✰----------------------

[scoonsalicious]

WE R SO CLOSE TO THE END!! POOKIE IM SO PROUD OF YOU!! DELIVERED AND FED US AS ALWAYS.🩷🩷

I. CANT. WAIT. FOR. THE. LIL. ANGST. REVELATION. TOTAL. BITCH. POCKET. AND. BUCKAROO. ON. HIS. KNEES.

Seriously Pocket and Bucky is SO CUTEEE!!🤍🤍🤍 BOTH OF THEM R SMITTEN FOR EACH OTHER😭

*giggling, kicking my feet, crying because in real life i am lonely*

GIVE US MORE FLUFFY SEXY POCKET X BUCKY TIME!!🫵🏻🫵🏻🫵🏻

Now let us discuss about cunthage. Pookie already hinted that she’s going after out beloved nerd and as i said before WE SHALL MANIFEST FOR TOTAL BITCH POCKET.

MANIFESTING TOTAL BITCH POCKET MANIFESTING TOTAL BITCH POCKET MANIFESTING TOTAL BITCH POCKET MANIFESTING TOTAL BITCH POCKET MANIFESTING TOTAL BITCH POCKET MANIFESTING TOTAL BITCH POCKET MANIFESTING TOTAL BITCH POCKET MANIFESTING TOTAL BITCH POCKET MANIFESTING TOTAL BITCH POCKET MANIFESTING TOTAL BITCH POCKET

Jeremiah saying she’s gunna die bcs if she didn’t take Winter Soldier back to HYDRA, they’ll unalive her. Also I think what Pocket said is true about cuntsy ‘like/attracted’ to Buckdoodle (I mean… who wouldn’t?😂) Somehow along the way, she connected with him, caught feelings and shit and ‘fantasising’ a relationship with him cus she’s that much of a cunt. The reason why she didn’t take him to HYDRA (*cough* during the Russia mission — man even I hate remembering/simply writing the Russia mission) is bcs he’s Bucky Barnes at the time and NOT the Soldat. And oh, also she’s enjoying the *cough* fuck ‘activity’. Fucking John IS OBSESSED.

Anywho……

IM JUST GOING TO STOP CRITICAL THINKING ABT WHAT HAPPENED IN RUSSIA AND WAIT FOR MOTHER POOKIE TO DELIVER THE FOOD AND I SHALL EAT IT WITH SUCH FEROCITY.

I want to know why it happened. Why Bucky made that choice (bcs i feel like the reason are still a bit unclear — like why do it again🤨 what is the purpose). I want a full depth of it. If I were Pocket, I *want* to see what happened (even if it killed me — better bleach my eyes). Oh and ofc, im not just gunna roast Jeremy… im roasting Buckwheat too before i forgive him.

*real footage of Pocket transitioningto a total bitch Pocket after the revelation*

Btw i read someone said Steve’s role? He has a role?!Let’s kill him. HE NEEDS TO BEGONE. GET OUT OF OUR LIFE. Steve and Jeremiah would be a great couple. (sarcasm intended). WHY STEVE? WHY CANT U JUST DUCK OFF. DONT TELL ME STEVE IS THE ONE WHO MADE THAT ‘NEWS’ (him and pocket false relation). OR THE ONE WHO LET CUNTHAGE TO GO TO THE RUSSIA MISSION. DONT FUCK W ME STEVE IM WARNING YOU. BACK THE FUCK OFF.

Also, I JUST remembered that Nat said Steve didn’t want Bucky to replace Dark Chocolate. I tell ya, HE’S FISHY. HE MUST HAVE A HIDDEN PLAN. HE DIDNT WANT BUCKY TO MEET POCKET, NOT BCS HE CARES FOR POCKET (okay, maybe he cares a little — bcs duh he *cough* loves likes her) but still he has his own agenda). HES PLANNING TO ‘CHARM’ POCKET. NAH. BACK OFF!!

Oh and rewinding back to chapter 26, that’s love right there. Pocket reassuring Bucky even when she didn’t trust him anymore, and Bucky ‘rejecting’ — pulling himself away — bcs it’ll kill him if she didn’t reciprocate his feelings. BTW THE KISS?!😫😫😫 *squealing like a child*. The way Bucky became owigoowie (man idk if this is even a word) when he said ‘present tense’. (🥹 — this is literally his facial expression at the time)

Alrighty, as usual, mother pookie, i love you and i wanna kiss you just like how Bucky kiss the life out of Pocket🩷🩷🩷 I didn’t say this much but thank u for everything. Thank you for writing. Thank you for sharing. Thank you for replying. I know I type a lot bcs I want to really express how im feeling, but it sometime is restricted/limited bcs im not a native english speaker😂 so my thoughts aren’t conveyed fully/correctly. (Also bcs i am just that dramatic and a yapper)

Please, take a great rest while you can. Hope you always in the pink. Again, I cant wait for the lil angsty, bitchy Pocket and revelation in chp 27. I am eagerly waiting for the showdown (*cough*, please, let there be a scene of Bucky punching Jonah and Stevuck). Thy meowsies love thou, mother pookie🫵🏻

PS// I KNOW I SAID I RUN OUT OF CAT SMOOCH GIFS BUT I CANT HELP MYSELF AND SEARCH FOR IT. THIS IS FROM GOOGLE😭

Since you gave me a photo of Elliot and Theo, I presented to you my unhinged (literally) cats, fat one is Hyde (Haida) and smaller one is Muezza (Moja).

OH! Out of topic…

RAGHHHH MALAYSIA MENTIONEDDDDD!!!🫵🏻🇲🇾🇲🇾🇲🇾KKAW KKAW

>>>and if there is a typo im sorry😂

Pookie, if you thought I fed you yesterday, I will GOURGE YOU TODAY! Eight mother fucking parts! Fuck. All the revelations in this chapter (well, most of them, anyway, lol).

Bucky and Pocket are just unable to not be together. It goes against their very DNA.

I have eleven fluff/smut post-series oneshots planned for the two of them, so we shall have happy times once the story is done. I can't quit them. They are my OTP (sorry, Buffy & Spike :( ).

Total Bitch Pocket has been unleased for Chapter 27! The snark is strong, and she is not afraid to unleash it, even if it has some negative consequences for her. She is using her greatest weapon at her disposal-- her dirty mouth, lol.

Jacoby is TOTALLY OBSESSED with Bucky-- it doesn't even matter what Hydra wants with him now. She wants him, and that's her prime objective. You will now be able to see what happened in Russia (Pocket, too!) and what happened to get him into that position. Ugh, I want to write so much more to you, but I am so dehydrated from this fucking migraine that my entire body hurts, so I can't type a lot without pain. Just know I love you, I love reading your comments. Your kittens are adorable and I want to give the squeezies.

xoxo You're the best!

[therealslimshakespeare]

* Crackles knuckles *

I will be picking apart every single sentence of one particular conversation hope u don’t mind 🥰🥰

“Smith has what looks like a raging infection.” Ida stated.

ugh. poor girl. she needs all the cuddles i hope bucky being more awake and active accomplishes that for her

Well that got him startled, confused and a little irate. His blue eyes widened, “Looks like.” he repeated. “-where? From what?”

the way you write “well that got him…” just gets me. like such a small detail i feel like but the immediate panic and spark of irritation speaks so much about their relationship i feel like. such big brother vibes

Gale knew Lu to be both. He had taken pains to ask after her the night she came in with that express suspicion in mind. “I asked her.” He swore.

This is absolutely everything to me. Like everything. The fact that he knows her so well 😞 Specifically asked after her, and doesn’t say “i asked her” as a way to deflect blame but just cause he’s so worried

“What?” The chair under Gale creaked from his irate posture. “They let loose a dog on her!”

☹️☹️ i’m sobbing. thinking about how painful it must be for him to hear this

“I-I-“ Gale wasn’t in a fluster to defend himself, Ida knew him better than to think that, he was merely in some disbelief at the cruelty, “I- gave her a shot, in the hip. Didn’t see-“

Two things: first i can’t wait to read the part about the shots and two, HIM STUTTERING FROM DISBELIEF. IM GOING TO DIE. He’s so concerned for her.

Gale took to pinching the bridge of his nose, a nervous tick Ida knew well, and it served to steady his hand, pinch away a budding migraine and hide the tell-tale windows of his eyes. “They set a dog on her -on her, to- and it tore her?” he couldn’t even get it out and she felt for him.

The fact that he does this after Ida tells him where it is??? I need to know if that was intentional?? If that’s the detail that took him out??? Also, HE COULDN’T EVEN GET IT OUT?? Something about the way that he says it… like he literally can’t believe someone would treat someone who’s so dear to him in that way. Like he’s trying to hard to just wrap his head around it

“I know damnit!” Gale still shaded eyes from her as his voice shook. “Why didn’t she-“ it trailed off, weary and rough.

I feel like the trail off makes me think that he’s putting pieces together, realizing how hard it’s all been for the girls. But still, the rough tone and him losing it a little (which he usually doesn’t do) IS GETTING ME

“-I don’t mind the work.” Gale lifted his hand at last and his eyes were red rimmed, “You know I don’t mind the work.”

The fact that hearing about it made him cry. The actual soul crushing blow to my soul Marina. How could you. How could you. Going back to read again.

Line by line quoting back to me always gets me spastic, Nonnie, thank you for this. I’m really not at all sane right now 🤓😭

[shurisneakers-side]

hey gorgeous ;) (this fic has consumed me since i read it)

She’s reciting the events of a date she went on yesterday or the day before, although admittedly, you’d only caught detached words for the past double-digit minutes.

LISTEN. If it's study time and ur around to study but are instead TALKING i will probably lose my mind. i will listen and be nice but INTERNALLY. fumes

The words don’t last too long in your mind, too cluttered with equations and vocabulary to make space for them.

reader has things to do!!! grades to achieve!! leave!!

“The girls told me he goes on a lot of dates but I can just tell I’m the one.”

nvm she's me as fuck she can stay

You nod. “Wow.”

pls the disinterest

Probably. You duck your chin, highlighting a sentence. “Isn’t it a group effort?”

humbling him even when he's not around. angie said this is MY 2000s romcom with uninterested girl and loverboy and i was SEATED

Gotta be there early to support Bucky,”

my clown ass for 8 years

“Does it matter? Honestly?” you rebut, taking care to watch your surroundings as you bully your friend. “Your quarterback wouldn’t cheat on you so I’m assuming it’s one that’s not Thor.”

BOYFRIENDS????? HELLOOOOOOOO???????

“Really good.” The golden thread of happiness threaded through Bruce’s words comes through clear and clean. You can imagine him as he talks into the phone, glancing at Thor to make sure he can’t hear as he plays with his fingers. “I’m really sorry for leaving you there.”

IM GIGGLING STOP THIS

“Wait, I have to go too? Why?” you whine.

support ur bestie's loser bf come on now !

“Yeah, you’re going,” Bruce declares. “They’re not that bad and you know it. Besides, Thor wants you to braid his hair. You know my fingers always get tangled.”

braid his hair 😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Thor bellows your name excitedly when he spots you both, heading over. You glance up to give him a smile, quickly continuing to type the stray thoughts you’d been trying to catch when he turns, an extravagant arm extending as if to present you to the few guys with him. “This is the lovely lady I told you all about. She is very smart.”

need him

“Oh.” Bucky blinks blankly, tongue poking into his cheek before he clears his throat and manages a lift of the left edge of his lips. “‘Makes sense someone so pretty would have good taste.”

MF DIDNT WASTE A SECOND LMAOOOOO

“It was amazing, I couldn’t let it slip by!”

shes cool and smart and supports local artists. literal icon

“What’re you talkin’ about, punk? What line?” Steve snickers. “Any of ‘em.”

GET HIS ASS STEVE. CORNY LOSER (endearing)

She catches Bucky’s actions and sends him an amused look.

he's so lovesick and everyone can see it

He winces, forcing himself to not glance back at you. “You’re a really great girl, Quinn, but I don’t think we’d work out. I’m sorry.”

at least he was kind about it

“Oh, you know,” Bucky starts with a nonchalant shrug, “of the ‘insane stamina’ and ‘could totally carry a bus’variety. You know, the ‘Winter Soldier’ name.”

i need to bully him. i need to do this or i'll die

“Bucky Barnes, right?” you ask him. He pushes his tongue against his cheek at the blow to his ego and nods. “Which one were you again? All the uniforms are the same, I can only recognize Thor and Piet.”

THANK U. ANGEL. PUT HIM IN HIS PLACE UR THE COOL ONE HERE

He chokes as he mimes nursing his wound. “Just digging it in deeper, aren’t you? Vixen.”

so ashamed to say this would definitly work on me angie u cannot make him charming and goofy coded

“Oh, you’re seventeen! The ball hogger! You do realize you’re in a team, right?” “Oh.” You think. “Then no.” “Oh, my bad,” you deadpan, placing a hand on your chest and rocking on your heels. You flutter your lashes at him and melt your lips into a watery smile. “Oh my, golly! Benson’s sweaty jersey!”

KJHGKJDFNGDKFJGNDFKJGH OH MY GOLLY BENSONS WEKJHDGKJDFHGDF;G;FKGVGJVSDGR

“Bucky,” Bucky grumbles. “Bucky’s sweaty jersey.”

HE DIDNT EVEN CORRECT THE SWEATY PART

“Bunny,” you greet, ducking your chin in a nod. Bucky gets out of the car, extending a hand to invite you inside.

this is so funnny like it was so casual kjfhgdkfj

“Did you get some sleep?” Bruce wonders, eyeing you at a red light. “Yeah, I drank some coffee,” you respond.

ma'am--

“It's no problem,” Bucky assures, wanting to keep examining the lines of your face, but you clear your throat, looking forward, and Bucky has no choice but to do so too.

he's so down bad after she insults him every sentence and calls him names. this is so real

Vision—who Bucky has heard is never wrong—sure seems wrong in whatever argument he’s just lost against you, and you know it.

i need to beat him in an argument. i don't care if im wrong i just need him to accept defeat

“Are you asking me to swing dance with you?” Bucky retorts.

HOW IS HE READY TO DANCE??? LIKE HE JUST KNOWS THIS???as someone who cant dance to save her life this is unfathomable to me

“First of all,” Bucky starts, beginning to list off his fingers. “We met two weeks and three days ago.”

put this man out of his misery look how absolutely clingy he is

“Maybe I wanted to switch things up,” Bucky defends. “And I’m not studying coaching. I’m studying biomedical engineering.”

funny how all of a sudden i'm super into him

“Yeah, what’s that about, by the wayt?” you wonder, setting your elbows on the table and dropping your face into your hands, cocking your head at him. “From what I’ve seen, you have your fair pick of girls and guys.”

AY YOOOOO BI BUCKY REP

“But I see it now. The charm. I’m not falling for it, but I see it.” You nod appreciatively and open your book once again to continue reading.

she may not be but i am a loser so i most definitely am !

“You are insufferable.” “And you’re beautiful.” “And you’re ridiculous.” “Go out with me, c’mon,” Bucky urges, smiling now. It’s stupidly sweet. You click your tongue. “Dates are a waste of time.” “I’ll make it worth it. Promise.” “I don’t have time to go out with guys I’ve talked to four times,” you explain.

this is so. 2000s coded. like i can see this playing out i cn HEAR them. i need this injected into my blood

“I will talk to you every single day from now on,” Bucky vows.

me when i get all steps wrong but end up at the right solution

James Buchanan Barnes. It rolls off your tongue too nicely all of a sudden.

HOOHOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOH

but fr it really is a nice name. i just cannot understand why his mother would name him after the president (james buchanan was a president right???) but it works

asking you how Linda the librarian was and if she liked the cookie he got her three days ago.

You relay her enthusiastic message, deciding to brush over the wink and coy smile she sent you at his mention.

he's got librarians simping for him please 😭😭 tbf if someone gave me a cookie i'd give them access to my body too

Fingers wrap around your arm and you shriek, books slipping from your arms when they wane. Stumbling back, you tug yourself away from the intrusion, breaths coming out in big, wet gasps when you turn. Bucky’s wide blue eyes meet your glossy ones, hands up in surrender when he catches the tremble of your bottom lip.

BITCH WY WOULDNT U SAY HER NAME WHY SURPRISE HER ON THE ROAD IN THE DARK

“I'm just relieved it’s you,” you interrupt, fingers fisting his shirt. You’re far away, stuck in a memory very far away, and yet it feels enough like you’re standing in it. Your grip is a vice, forcing him closer still until the pads of your fingers can feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. 

oh. she has a history there. is that why bruce is so hellbent on checking up on her

You look down at your lap, the left edge of your lips pulling into your cheek. “I was alone. It was easy.” What’s left to say seems painful for you to push out. “He didn’t like me very much.”

:(

You accept it as you mimic the sweet curve of his lips. “Ah, yes, and that’s how Barnacle gets ‘em. Being charming and funny and sweet—”

her fully confessing she thinks hes sweet and charming and funny

What’re you doing?” “You have to invite me in,” he explains. “What, like a vampire?” He blinks. “Yeah, like a vampire.” You grin toothily. “Vucky…” It drips in an exaggerated accent.

pls i laughed out loud at this

shes so guarded and walls-up and he's out there heart on his sleeve and ready to propose. otp

It’s startling the first time you miss Bucky's ever-constant presence.

no wait this is so real bc the first time i realised i missed a boy i imedatiely went 'what the fuck'

I really wanted Atlantis to be real when I was little,”

i still do hello. i completely believe it is real this is my flat earth thery sorry

“I like space,” Bucky offers. “It's endless.”

ocean girl x space boy........

Bucky turns to dig around in his bag, pulling out something small and bronze and shiny with a brilliant smile. ”I went to this little souvenir shop the other day and found one of those machines.” He extends it to you and flips it slowly between his index and middle. “It has a little fuzzy monster thing on it. I don’t get it, to be honest.”

FINE i will marry you

“Of course. I have been for months,” Bucky points out with a shrug.

MONTHSSSS??????? AND SHE DIDNT REALISE????? HES ROUTINE HES SET IN HER DAY NOW

“Weeks could definitely be months,” Bucky reasons.  You ignore him, stopping in your tracks. “Why?” A frown tugs at his lips as he pauses as well. “Because weeks add up to months?”

ksjhfdkjghkjghrkjhgrkjtg

“Right. Um, thanks again.” You take your things from him before he can think twice about it, speed walking to your door.

shes so emotionally repressed i want to shake her like a can of pringles

You’re being nice to him. Sticky nice. Not you-nice.

the fuck

You’d scoffed, blinked fast, and swatted him away. But you didn’t say no.

HMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

nectar, sticky in his throat.

i noticed a lot of sweetness imagery in this, angie. like honey, nectar and all. it really does paint a scene-- very warm and soft

“It’s just a meal.” He squints at you. “You never pass up a chance of food on me.” He presses the back of his palm against your forehead and leans in closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

SHES PANICKING GIRL SHE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO DEAL

You furrow your brows at him when you pop the lid off, barely realizing you’d never told him what to get. “You got me cavatappi pasta,” you realize. You look upset.

im grinning im crying screaming throwing up

“I have to go.” “What? We just got here.” “I have an appointment.” “For what?”

GIRL STAY THERE AND KISS HIM WHAT. WHAT IS THIS. SHARE THE COOKIE

“You hate cookies and pasta. You think they’re awful,” Bruce tries.

hes so cute im crying

ok i had to google what shape cavatappi is and I'm OBSESSED

“I didn't say anything.”

SAY IT BE THE FRIEND SHE NEEDS CALL HER OUT !!

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance at your work again and then at the clock, taking a quick breath before you force yourself to write a quick conclusion you promise yourself you’ll revise when you get home.

LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He says your name in surprise, shaking you gently as if to check that you’re real.

DO U WANT ME TO CRY BE HONEST

Bucky steps back, eyebrows furrowed as he notices what you’re holding. “Are those orange slices?”

wait thats so cute shut up aw

“Yeah. You told me about that and I thought maybe you’d like them.”

the mortifying ordeal of being known........

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, hand drifting down to pull yours along. His skin is sticky and sweet against yours, orange juice smearing on your palm, but you can’t find it in you to care.

if i dont find some athlete who will hold my hands stained with orange juice. so help me god

Something like dumb, chest-puffed stubbornness tugs incessantly at you when you contemplate calling Bruce to come pick you up, a biting voice snapping pathetic for even thinking about it convincing you to shut the door behind you, locking away the choice of warmth and safety and shame.

call him girl omg get back into the building

When you blink, there’s the ghost of an unforgiving hand on the back of your neck, the sharp slam of your jaw against brick. You gasp when you open your eyes again, a hand flying to the aching skin of your neck as you spin.

i hope she finds a way to heal from this. i cant imagine how scarring this was

“Okay. For you and Bruce or just you?”

the way he knows where it is ltrly based on her preferences is so

If he were a little less in love, maybe he would; but he’s not, and the relief that you’re solid and no longer a tenuous voice on his phone is too much a relief.

ok this is a very serious scene but i read this and my heart went dfkjhgfkjhgkfjhgfkjhg this is reminding me of the 'if i loved you less, i may have been able to talk about it more'

You can’t help the way your eyes track down his arm. It’s scarred with angry raised lines, ending at his fingertips and disappearing into his shirt sleeve. 

kill me why dont u huh angie not them being vulnerable and open

Your fingers are wound tightly around Wanda’s arm, the nails digging into her sweater giving away what your face is trying to hide. You’re zeroed in on Bucky's figure as he runs across green after blurry white.

THE EVOLUTION OF HER NOT EVEN COMING TO GAMES TO BEING SO INVESTED IN THIS DUMBFUCK

You’re not worried.

oh bc i would be losing my mind rn

a mere play he put on for the free kick.

this is reminding me of that jamie tartt GIVE ME THE BALL PLEASE I WANT THE BALL

Except he hasn’t moved in a little while too long and you don’t think it’s ever taken him this long to fake it. Although, maybe it feels longer because you can’t take your eyes off his figure.

her unwavering confidence in this fellow and his antics. she sees right through him

“It’s fake,” you assure, fingers digging round shadows into your temples. “He’s doing his hero face, he’s completely fine.” It comes out more relieved than you thought it would.

SHE RECOGNISES HIS HERO FACE DKFJGHFJGH. THE FACT THAT HE EVEN HAS ONE HE'S SOOO LAME i need him

Unable to help yourself, you throw your arms around his neck, the prickling disappearing the moment you touch him. He is hot and solid in your arms, but most importantly completely fine.

imgiggling im crying im going through a lot rn no one talk to me

“What, did I scare you?” Bucky teases, smirk dropping when your deadpan doesn’t glitter with playfulness. “Doll?” “You took your sweet time getting back up,” you continue, ignoring his words. “You’ve never taken that long.” You’re alone in the hall now, eyes frenetic over his figure. His cheeks apple at your statement, amusement twinkling back in his eyes. “Of course. My girl knows I can't get hurt.”

THIS IS MAKING ME SHORTCIRCUIT

Bucky cringes. “You don’t really flirt back. I just want to make sure it’s not because I make you uncomfortable.”

girl she would have made it very clear i dont think she would have taken it if she didnt like it to some degree

“You think love isn’t worth it? That it’s a distraction?”

shes so me from 2018 i am actually reeling. it was actually on this very webbed site that my beloved mutual told me. "you can study and have a boyfriend. like, you can do both, you know that right?" and it rewired my brain chemistry

“But what if it is?”

sound logic soccer boy let's kiss

You want a moment to ponder it, because you know the right answer but you aren’t sure if you want to pick it. “Give what a chance?” you play dumb, but he doesn’t buy it.

SHES GOING TO DRAG IT OUT OF HIM OR DIE AVOIDING.

It would feel plain ignorant to do so—to not focus completely on the stitched pride in the dips of your smile or the warmth of your palms as they splay flat on his arm.

theyre so boyfrengirlfren coded wdym they arent DATING ET

Carol grins. “Yeah. Kind of hard not to when you describe it so thoroughly.”

YES SHES GETTING BULLIED FOR BEING PATHETICALLY IN LOVE TOO. I AM OBSESSED

“Best friend, huh? Bruce gonna be jealous?”

the annoyances to friends to lovers pipeline is soooo.........i am chewing glass i need them to touch mouth

“Impossible,” Bucky corrects completely unsubtly, but it’s soft, blurred by yellow light from above and buzz from you.

stab me why dont u

He clicks open the car. “And this’ll force ‘em to call an uber. Worst comes to worst, I’ll drop by later to force them home. I just want to get you home first. No drunk footballers to puke on your feet.”

kjfngjkfnhjkgfnhkfjgnhfkjn protective bucky being protective over his friends and saying he'll come back later like it's no big deal like WHY R U SO NICE

“I had to be able to drive you back.” He shrugs, cocking his head in the direction of the open car door.

i will climb you in this car james

His skin flips green.

angie im dumb as bricks i fully thought. "hulk??"

or do laundry or taxes or—anything as long as it’s with you.”

INVOKING EEAAO OHHHH YOU ARE SO EVIL FOR THIS ANGIE. I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

Maybe you just can’t help yourself anymore. You kiss him.

FUCKING !!!!! YES!!!! FUINALLY LETS FUCINGG GO!!!!

“‘Had to make sure,” he mumbles against your lips. “This can’t happen when you aren’t you.”

OK CONSENT KING !

“I'll go out with you.”

i can now die happily

also!! your prose was so alight and quick, but there was also so much care that was put into it. like a painting. do you get me. a painting with honey.

tldr; angie marry me we can write a romcom together and i will make u so happy i promise

Flirting and Football- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: past assault of reader, as slow burn as i can, au so bucky is different although i tried to not make him so ooc, sort of enemies to lovers?, genuinely can’t remember anymore, crappy writing in the beginning because i started writing this a year ago but i swear it gets better i promise About: request!! Bucky barnes and a college au where reader is the only one who isn’t interested in him basically

The end of your pen rests between your lips, unused as you scan the textbook page in front of you, your eyes thinning occasionally as you read. Your study partner’s book lays open in front of her, ten pages behind, and notebook adorned with two sole words.

She’s reciting the events of a date she went on yesterday or the day before, although admittedly, you’d only caught detached words for the past double-digit minutes. Your careful attention had dwindled down to nods as you subtly tapped at your notebook, then not-so-subtly and finally disappeared altogether as you made miscellaneous noises. 

You hum along now, eyes flickering from your notes to the material as you annotate pages with bright sticky notes.

She doesn’t seem to notice your disinterest, gushing about arms and hair, and the kiss that changed her life. The words don’t last too long in your mind, too cluttered with equations and vocabulary to make space for them.

“The girls told me he goes on a lot of dates but I can just tell I’m the one.”

You glance at your open computer, frowning at the slimming battery life, and purse your lips at the time. Sighing softly, you meet Quinn’s glazed eyes, offering her a tight smile you hope is somewhat believable.

“Is he in psychology too?” you ask, tapping on the notes the both of you were supposed to start when she began talking.

“Bucky? Oh no,” she laughs, the finger twirling her red hair pulling away to wave her hand dismissively. “He’s in sports or something. He's on the soccer team, you know.”

You nod. “Wow.”

“I know, oh my god.” She fans herself. “Did I tell you he basically won the last game?”

Probably. You duck your chin, highlighting a sentence. “Isn’t it a group effort?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah, but he scored the winning goal.”

“Okay then,” you agree, deciding that you can finish your notes at your dorm. “I didn’t go to the last game, so what do I know?”

Quinn’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t go?” she exclaims, and you shush her, confirming. “Why?”

You shrug. “I had to do something.”

“You have to go to the next one tomorrow and see him in action. But don’t fall in love,” she warns with a giggle. “He’s mine.”

“Promise,” you reply hollowly, shutting your laptop. “Well, I have to go. This was helpful, though,” you lie.

“Oh, yeah, totally. I have to go too, rest up for the big game tomorrow. Gotta be there early to support Bucky,” Quinn informs. You stack your books to carry them back to your dorm.

“Right,” you respond, standing. “I hope everything goes well with him,” you say as you walk out.

She shoots you a big grin and a nod, her face bright as she agrees.

It’s cold when you step through the doors, bouncing on your feet and hugging your things closer to your chest as you begin to walk toward your dorm. You move to pull out your phone from your back pocket, quickly unlocking it to get to your contacts list. You press on Bruce’s contact and listen to the two beeps until he picks up.

“I hate you so much right now,” you greet, cutting his cheery hello off.

“What? What did I do?”

“‘I’ll be there!’ ‘How could I miss studying physics?’” you mock, imitating his voice. “You left me there, and I was stuck listening to Quinn's monologue about how the quarterback or whatever is the love of her life!”

“What quarterback?” Bruce asks.

“Does it matter? Honestly?” you rebut, taking care to watch your surroundings as you bully your friend. “Your quarterback wouldn’t cheat on you so I’m assuming it’s one that’s not Thor.”

“Okay, okay, I know. I’m sorry about ditching you. Thor and I just finished, we can come by and pick you up at the library. And Thor is a defender. Different sport entirely.”

“Whatever and ew,” you complain. “And I’m already on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“What? I told you to not walk home alone. Just wait for me.”

“Don’t worry. The dorm isn’t that far and you’re not exactly the most threatening anyway,” you remind. “I’ll be fine. ”

“Fine. Keep me on the line and be careful,” Bruce tells you.

“Of course,” you quip. A pause drapes over the two of you, the silence only interrupted by the steady sound of your footsteps on the concrete. You turn, leaves crunching underneath your shoes and you can practically hear Bruce relax somewhat, knowing that you’re nearby. You put him on speaker to hear better. “How’d it go with Thor today?”

“Really good.” The golden thread of happiness threaded through Bruce’s words comes through clear and clean. You can imagine him as he talks into the phone, glancing at Thor to make sure he can’t hear as he plays with his fingers. “I’m really sorry for leaving you there.”

“You’re not,” you amend. “But it’s fine. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I am,” Bruce confirms.

“I don’t know how you find the time to juggle everything. It’s kind of terrifying,” you laugh, expecting him to tease you back, but his answer comes back honest.

“I know you think of boyfriends and whatever as distractions, but it’s the opposite. It’s not juggling if I have help carrying everything.”

You push your tongue against your cheek, listening to the rustling of the trees. You grab your keys as you arrive at your dorm door. “I’m here.”

“Finally.” You roll your eyes, opening the door to see your roommate and her brother inside.

“Hey Wanda, Piet.”

Wanda smiles at you and Pietro winks before greeting Bruce through your phone.

“Okay, Bruce, are we studying tomorrow?” you ask him, balancing your things in your arms. When Pietro notices, he stands, taking your books from you and setting them down on your table. You thank him and pat his arm.

“Before the game? Sure,” he replies. You take him off speaker, pulling your phone to your ear, not noticing that the mention of the game has caught Pietro and Wanda's attention.

“You’re going?” you question. “I thought Thor was benched.”

“He’s off!” There’s a whoop you recognize as Thor’s that makes you smile. “Which is why it’s an important game we need to go to.”

“We?” you echo.

“We as in you and I,” Bruce verifies.

“Wait, I have to go too? Why?” you whine.

Pietro cuts in, “You have to go! How will we win without our lucky charm?”

You purse your lips and squint at him. “Didn’t you guys win last game?”

“Still! Come on, please,” he insists. Wanda joins in, offering to bake you cookies.

You search your brain for excuses. “I have things to do.”

“If it’s not ‘stay home and binge a series,’ I'll let you skip,” Bruce chimes.

You frown as the siblings grin.

“Yeah, you’re going,” Bruce declares. “They’re not that bad and you know it. Besides, Thor wants you to braid his hair. You know my fingers always get tangled.”

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically. “But I want it noted that it’s only because I really like cookies.” You focus on Wanda, who nods enthusiastically. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bruce repeats your words before you hang up, and at the click, you let yourself fall on your couch.

Wanda kisses your head and pats your shoulder comfortingly. “It’s going to be fun.”

“Standing in the middle of students I don’t know as they yell at a ball does not sound fun to me,” you disagree, but she ignores you.

“Even Vis is going,” she argues. “And you know how excited Thor gets when you braid his hair.”

You mutter incoherently.

“We’ll leave at three,” she instructs with a smile.

-

“I could be doing so many useful things right now,” you hiss at Bruce, remembering the half-written essay you have saved on your laptop, a string of frustratedly typed letters highlighted and waiting to be replaced with something coherent typed just beneath it.

Bruce had made you leave just as you began to taste the word you were looking for, assuring you that going out to see a game would somehow give your fried mind the jolt it needed. With little argument and the promise you’d committed to with a hook of your pinkie, you’d sighed and shut your laptop, leaving your apartment early to see the team before the game.

You could recognize some faces thanks to Pietro forcing you out to a few team celebrations and the occasional game you never paid much attention to. Although he’d laid off a while ago when Bruce and Thor started dating, your best friend had dragged you to every soccer-related event he didn’t want to go to alone. Pietro never minded your absence as much as Bruce did, always satisfied as long as you celebrated or consoled him afterward.

The word you’d been wracking your brain for suddenly comes to mind when you sit next to Bruce on a bench, pulling your phone out of your pocket to note it down, not noticing when the entire soccer team begins to leave the locker room, spilling into the hall where you’re slumped with your best friend.

Thor bellows your name excitedly when he spots you both, heading over. You glance up to give him a smile, quickly continuing to type the stray thoughts you’d been trying to catch when he turns, an extravagant arm extending as if to present you to the few guys with him. “This is the lovely lady I told you all about. She is very smart.”

You laugh at his introduction, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “Thank you, Thor.”

“Of course! And you all know Bruce, of course.”

There are chimes of agreement and greetings for your friend, a few of the players coming up to you. Pietro arrives first, as always, and pecks your forehead. “I, for one, am very glad you came to cheer us on.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” another says, huge and blonde, but his features are softened by an open grin. “I’m Steve.” He juts a finger at the brunet next to him, his hair tied up into a neat little bun at the nape of his neck, blue eyes shining as they observe you. “That’s Bucky.”

You smile at them, nodding. “Nice to meet you. I’ve actually heard a lot.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

You stare at him blankly, opening and closing your mouth like a fish. “I meant Steve.” Steve looks startled. “I saw his work when I was volunteering at the art show last month. It was great, I actually bought the piece with the lilies!”

“Oh.” Bucky blinks blankly, tongue poking into his cheek before he clears his throat and manages a lift of the left edge of his lips. “‘Makes sense someone so pretty would have good taste.”

You stare silently at him for a second, relieved when Steve’s surprise takes a second to process.

“Wait, me?” Steve points stupidly at himself. “My art?”

“It was amazing, I couldn’t let it slip by!”

“I told you,” Bucky tells him, elbowing his arm. He, unlike the other players, wears a dark sleeve over the entirety of his left arm, all the way up to his fingers. His fingertips, jagged pink, peek out. “I wish you woulda let me go. I could’ve seen the art and met her sooner.”

His friend sends him a furtive glance. “Is this your first time coming to a game?” Steve wonders as he turns back to you. 

You shake your head. “Pietro is my roommate’s brother and Thor’s my best friend’s boyfriend. They drag me here when they feel like it, but it’s my first time being back here.” You gesture to the hall. “I’m usually a little late because Bruce drives like a grandmother.”

Bruce sighs, sending you a short glance that you respond to with a gentle nudge of his shoulder.

Blue eyes nods, careful to give you his full attention. “Well, I think you should come around more often.”

You scan him for a second. “Why?” you ask genuinely.

He pauses as he begins to explain, eyes pinched in confusion before Thor’s booming voice cuts him off, reminding you that you need to braid his hair. You give them a final smile before standing. “Duty calls, I guess.”

“So you’ll come around?” He calls after you, frowning when you respond with a transparent smile and ingenuine thumbs up. “Huh,” he says.

“What?” Steve responds, a little slowly, knowingly. He knows well what is making Bucky’s features crease in that way, but he’d prefer hearing it from his friend’s mouth.

“Just… wondering why I’d never seen her before. Pretty.”

“Uh huh.” Steve nods disbelievingly. Knowing he isn’t going to be able to push it out of his friend, he begins to walk toward the field, not waiting up for Bucky, the man caught up in his thoughts. “‘Thought it was because the line didn’t work,” he finally tells him, catching Bucky’s attention.

“What’re you talkin’ about, punk? What line?”

Steve snickers. “Any of ‘em.”

-

The next time Bucky sees you is across the courtyard, arms wrapped around books, your fingers curved protectively around the edges of your laptop. You struggle as you talk to someone he recognizes, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet as you reach to brush strands of hair away from your eyes.

Why you don’t have a backpack like every other person is beyond him, but it’s the last thing on his mind when your eyes meet his and you smile and wave. Yeah, he knows how to handle this—the attention, the blushing, the flattery.

The hand he raises to wave back freezes awkwardly when he realizes your attention isn’t on him, but rather following something behind his shoulder. His hand lowers as he feels Pietro brush past him and over to you, Wanda following close by. She catches Bucky’s actions and sends him an amused look.

You accept the kiss Pietro drops on your forehead and greet Wanda excitedly, too busy chatting with her to notice the two pens that slip from your pile.

Bucky sniffs, tugging his varsity jacket tighter and deciding to embrace his mistake, walks over to you.

“Hey,” he greets, your name coming out like silk, shooting you a smile. He bends down to pick up your pens, handing them to you with a cajoling rise of his lips.

You return it a pause later. “Hey, um—thanks…” you struggle for a second before you’re cut off.

“Bucky!” the classmate that you were talking to exclaims, and Bucky realizes it’s Quinn, the girl he’d gone out on a date with a while ago. “I saw you on the field yesterday,” she tells him, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger. “You were amazing.”

“I appreciate it,” he thanks her, his eyes flickering back to you for a second, spotting you beginning to step away with a short wave and an elbow to Wanda's side. “I should go, I needed to talk to her,” he starts, acting quickly. “But it was nice to see you again. You look great, I like your necklace.”

Quinn’s fingers reach to pinch at the pendant on her chain, tilting her head at Bucky as she beams. “Thank you!”

Bucky nods, turning to find you gone. He looks around, surprised, but finally catches sight of you turning a corner with your friends. Before he can head toward you, Quinn catches his arm.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out again?” She smiles at him, eyes wide and shiny.

He winces, forcing himself to not glance back at you. “You’re a really great girl, Quinn, but I don’t think we’d work out. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Quinn says quietly, not returning the apologetic smile he sends her. He twists his lips and apologizes again before jogging over to you, slowing to match your pace when he finally catches up.

“Hey again,” he quips, offering you a smile. You return it kindly, twirling your pens between your fingers.

“Hey, Bucky.” Probably accidentally, you enunciate his name in a way that makes him realize you didn’t remember it when he came up to you earlier, and he bites back an embarrassed blush. “It was a good game yesterday.”

“Thank you,” he replies easily. “How was I?”

You cock your head at him. “Fine? You… were a soccer player.”

Pietro laughs, pulling you closer. “He’s asking if he lived up to the stories,” he clarifies, shooting Bucky a look. “‘Does another pretty girl think I’m great too?’” he mocks, the imitation edged in his accent.

You hum in understanding, turning back to Bucky. “Stories?” you echo. Your features bear no likeness to the pull Bucky is used to with girls, nothing implying the agreement or validation he’s usually welcomed with.

“Oh, you know,” Bucky starts with a nonchalant shrug, “of the ‘insane stamina’ and ‘could totally carry a bus’ variety. You know, the ‘Winter Soldier’ name.”

Your eyebrows raise. “‘Winter Soldier?’” you repeat, words bolded in an unconscious drama.

“’S my nickname,” Bucky explains sheepishly. You continue to stare at him for a second before cracking a smile.

“Bucky Barnes, right?” you ask him. He pushes his tongue against his cheek at the blow to his ego and nods. “Which one were you again? All the uniforms are the same, I can only recognize Thor and Piet.”

Pietro hoots. “Fifteen, baby!”

Bucky eyes you, his cheeks pulling with an amused lilt. “You wound me, doll.”

“I wound you?” you giggle, unable to help it. “This is our first conversation and I have the power to wound you. I don’t know how I feel about having this power over a stranger.”

Bucky gasps, reaching out to grab your hand with his ungloved hand and wrap it around an invisible knife to plunge it into his chest. He chokes as he mimes nursing his wound. “Just digging it in deeper, aren’t you? Vixen.”

“Oh, come on, you expect me to have learned your number after knowing you for five minutes?” you exclaim with mild indignance, a whisper of amusement betraying it. You click your tongue. “You were fine, I’m sure,” you respond finally. Wanda jabs an elbow into your arm and whispers something to you. Your eyes light up. “Oh, you’re seventeen! The ball hogger! You do realize you’re in a team, right?”

Pietro claps, nodding approvingly at you. “And me, little flower?”

You roll your eyes. “You were fast. Like always.”

“That’s code for ‘the best out there,’” Pietro tells Bucky.

“I think the code for that is Bucky Barnes,” Bucky retorts, turning back to you. “‘Got a favorite player yet?” He asks you.

You tilt a brow at him. “On the soccer team?”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirms.

“Based off of what?” You counter.

“Anything.”

“Oh.” You think. “Then no.”

Pietro clears his throat loudly.

“What if I get you the best seat possible next game?” Bucky offers.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m good where I am.”

“She barely pays attention anyway,” Wanda informs. “All she does is complain.”

You nod. “And I can do that in any seat.”

“Alright… what if you wear my jersey at the next game?” Bucky continues.

You raise an eyebrow. “And you’re convincing me, right?”

“You should be swooning right now,” Bucky argues accusingly, but his words are tinged with a grin.

“Oh, my bad,” you deadpan, placing a hand on your chest and rocking on your heels. You flutter your lashes at him and melt your lips into a watery smile. “Oh my, golly! Benson’s sweaty jersey!”

“Bucky,” Bucky grumbles. “Bucky’s sweaty jersey.”

“Right,” you reply with an attentive nod, laughing quietly. Your attention is drawn by another building and you turn. “I gotta go, but please keep the jersey far away from me.” You point at Bucky and then wave at Wanda and Pietro. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“Me too!” Bucky shouts after you. You only reply with a thumbs up Bucky can tell is sarcastic even if he can’t see your face, slipping past a closing door. Bucky purses his lips, looking after you. “Huh.”

A hand slaps down on his shoulder, and Pietro's laughter bubbles from behind him. “Nice work,” he lies.

-

Entirely suddenly, your mind feels vignetted with inky stress. You suppose it was predictable, having ignored the weight your responsibilities had lain on your shoulders for as long as you had, but it’s exhausting nonetheless. You blink slowly at your document in a lousy attempt to soothe yourself, feeling as though you were staring at it through a tunnel.

You yawn as you splay yourself out on your bed, stretching your legs out as far as you can. Your fingertips brush your pillows as you let your eyelids fall closed for just a second, thoughts and reminders of the rest of the things you need to do lining your entrance to sleep, but the door is so inviting, the red tape of your to-do list blurring.

Your ringtone cuts in when you begin to reason with yourself, back straightening fast enough to give you whiplash when you open your eyes again. Your hand slams around your phone, blinking fast as you read Bruce’s contact name.

“The thing,” you mumble, remembering Bruce’s insistence that you went to something. You answer his call and fight to not let yourself fall back on your bed, free fingers moving to rub at your temple.

“Hey, are you ready?” Bruce asks, the sounds of conversation in the background.

“Sure,” you answer tiredly, looking down at yourself. Whoever it is you’re going out with can’t be too picky. “Ready for what again?”

“The team’s win? We’re going out to eat at an actual restaurant and everything.”

You purse your lips. “Are we going to a bar?”

There’s a moment of silence on his end, only highlighted by the muffled voices that converse. “...No.”

Nodding earnestly, you stand, stretching and shaking your limbs out in an attempt to wake yourself up, but the attempt is mocked when you yawn once again. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and wince, tilting your chin up to get another angle. “Then, yes, I’m ready. I guess.”

“That's great!” Bruce praises. “Because we are outside.”

You frown, grabbing a hair tie from your dresser before walking out of your room, surprised to see your apartment empty. “We?” you repeat as you look around, confused. “Are Wan and Pietro with you?”

“They’re probably already there. And ‘we’ as in I picked up Thor, Steve, and Bucky.”

You grunt in response, shutting off the lights and plucking your keys from the counter before locking up.

“You know Bucky. He’s not that bad.”

There are sounds of protest and you catch an offended ‘that bad?’ before you hang up, waving to Bruce’s car. The door to the back opens before you can touch the handle, a grinning face and shiny blue eyes welcoming you. “Hey, doll, you look great.”

“Bunny,” you greet, ducking your chin in a nod. Bucky gets out of the car, extending a hand to invite you inside.

“I don’t mind that one.” Bucky winks.

You shake your head, crawling inside and saying hi to Steve, nose wrinkling when you realize you’ll be sandwiched between the two guys, and turning when you notice Bucky getting in again. You tug on your seatbelt with a polite smile to Steve, bumping into hard muscle when you aim for the buckle.

“You tryna cop a feel? Could’ve just asked,” Bucky tells you, bumping you gently.

“Oh please,” you scoff, poking him with the metal thing. “Excuse me, seatbelt. Bruce isn’t that great of a driver. He’s in his twenties and gets night blindness.”

Bucky pats your hand gently and takes the belt from you, clicking it into place for you.

“Nice and safe, don’t worry, doll.”

You set your lips into a thin line and look straight ahead, pushing your phone into the space between your thighs so you don’t lose it. “How’d you do on your Norse mythology exam, Thor?” you ask, recalling the nerves with which he’d told you about it a couple of days ago.

“Wonderful! I really enjoy the subject. Thank you for helping me study,” Thor replies cheerily.

“You didn’t even need to,” you assure, stifling a yawn. Bucky frowns.

“Did you get some sleep?” Bruce wonders, eyeing you at a red light.

“Yeah, I drank some coffee,” you respond.

“Not the same thing. Not even close.”

You laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you promise. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m always worried,” Bruce grumbles.

“Hey, how was art today?” you ask Steve, nudging his arm gently. Bucky’s brows furrow, urging Steve to look at him and read his mind with an intense stare. Steve does not.

“You were right. I was being too judgemental,” Steve sighs. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“Listened to who?” Bucky buts in. “How did you know Stevie had art today?” he continues, trying to keep his tone light.

“We talk.” You shrug. 

“Oh,” Bucky starts, glaring at Steve. “Do you?”

“Yes.” You nod before actually yawning that time. “I’m sorry.”

“You should sleep more,” Bucky comments, watching you shake your head wearily.

“I have things to do,” you defend. “I sleep enough, it’s the stupid car ride, I always fall asleep in cars,” you defend. “But if it pleases you, I’ll sleep the entirety of tomorrow.” Your voice lacks the thick sleeve of satire you tend to use with him, more vulnerable in your exhaustion. Although your request is still sarcastic, Bucky can tell you know you need it.

“It will,” Bucky says.

For the most part, the conversation ends there, the group splitting into their own things during the car ride. After a few minutes, Bucky feels your head fall softly on his shoulder.

He stops paying attention to what Thor is saying, instead focusing on the way you edge toward him in your sleep, nudging your nose into his shoulder. He can see the way your lashes lay on your cheeks when you’re so close and the pretty bridge of your nose.

You’re more open than he’s ever seen you, eyes shut and lips parted with gentle breaths, and he can’t stop staring at you.

Then the car goes over a harsh bump, and Bucky wants to do everything he can to hold you still, but your eyes flutter open and you sit up, meeting his eyes for a second. “Sorry.”

“It's no problem,” Bucky assures, wanting to keep examining the lines of your face, but you clear your throat, looking forward, and Bucky has no choice but to do so too.

-

The surprise Bucky feels when he spots you at the celebration party is no match for the sweet excitement at the bottom of his stomach, immediately pulling his sleeve further down over his arm and brushing away loose strands of his hair. It would be embarrassing how much he cares about what you think of him if it weren’t so ridiculously important to him.

He busies himself with getting a drink for you, finding himself wondering if you’d come before, only to go unnoticed by him. There’s a startling burst of anger at himself with the thought, and Bucky blinks, eyes continuing to drift to you. Resolute, he moves toward you but pauses as he observes you.

The look on your face is one Bucky has never seen before—though he hasn’t seen many looks on your face before—but it settles so naturally on your features that it is difficult to argue that it’s unfamiliar. You look intense, but the way your eyes scan Wanda's boyfriend—who’s been dubbed Vision—is dangerous. Cocky.

You say something and your entire face relaxes resolutely, but your eyes remain expectant and arrogant, unamused with your companion’s reply.

Vision—who Bucky has heard is never wrong—sure seems wrong in whatever argument he’s just lost against you, and you know it.

“How’re my favorite geniuses?” Wanda pipes up suddenly, forcing Bucky’s daze away, appearing from an unknown place to sling an arm around you. You snap out of the look, your face softening, but the pleasure of being right dances across your features. Bucky clears his throat and takes a sip from his beer, stepping toward you.

“Oh, you know, out-geniusing the other,” you reply, glancing at Bucky as he walks up behind Vision.

“Hey Dolly,” he smiles. “I thought you had too many books to read to go out.”

“I finished them all,” you respond. “And ‘Dolly’? How old are you?”

Bucky clicks his tongue. “What would you prefer, sweetheart?”

“My name,” you state, then squint at him, cocking your head. “Do you remember it? I imagine it’s hard to keep track.”

“Of course I remember.” Bucky scoffs. “I don’t think I could forget.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Right, I’d imagine asking her out to swing dance without it would be pretty hard.”

“Are you asking me to swing dance with you?” Bucky retorts.

You snort. “Yeah, sure.”

Bucky holds out his hand expectantly, covered arm at his side.

Your eyes thin resolutely at him, scrutinizing the details of his face before you shake your head. “You’re ridiculous,” you criticise.

His hand drops and he pouts. “C’mon, pretty please.”

“Do you know what music you swing dance to?” you ask him, wagging a finger to refer to the booming music drowning most sounds inside the house. “Because this isn’t it.”

“I need to take advantage of the fact that you’re here, doll. You said so yourself you don’t go out much,” he complains. 

“Yeah, this is why!” you reply, your last words getting louder as the music impossibly gains volume.

“What?!” Bucky shouts, moving closer to hear you better, but you laugh and shake your head, telling him something he can’t make out. When you realize he can’t hear you, you give him a pout.

“And I was just about to say yes,” you say sadly.

“Wha—” Bucky’s cut off by the sharp shattering of glass. With a cringe, your eyes widen as you look behind him, eyes flickering back to him expectantly. He turns and groans. “I have to check that out. I’ll be right back!” he pledges, walking away to see a deadly amount of broken alcohol bottles on the floor, the stench of their contents burning his nose.

When he comes back, you’re gone.

The disappointment that blankets over his shoulders at the fact is just as surprising to him.

-

You’re in your bubble at the library, a little clueless to everything going on around you as you thumb the corner of a page, your pinky hovering below your book’s cover. You’re a few pages away from something exciting, teeth digging in with anticipation for it, when someone enters your field of vision, a large figure plopping down on a seat in front of you.

You spare them a glance and are surprised to find Bucky, sporting a large grin and his varsity jacket. You observe him suspiciously for a few moments, having never seen him even near the library, before returning your attention to what you’re reading.

“So, you’re actually here, huh?” he asks, and you shush him, shooting him a look to lower his voice. “Sorry.”

“Why are you here?” you question lowly instead, still not putting down your book.

“Anyone can come to the library.” Bucky points out, your name playfully scornful. You level a look at him.

“Yes. Why are you here? With me? You didn’t know my name until, like, two days ago.” You’re careful to keep your voice down.

“First of all,” Bucky starts, beginning to list off his fingers. “We met two weeks and three days ago.”

“Did we?” you drone, attempting to concentrate on the lines of your book once more.

“And, how do you know we don’t just have alternating study days?” Bucky points out.

“I am here every day,” you inform. “And if that were the case, why would you be here right now?” you rebut. “What would you be studying for? Coaching?”

“Maybe I wanted to switch things up,” Bucky defends. “And I’m not studying coaching. I’m studying biomedical engineering.”

You meet his eyes at the revelation, unable to keep the surprise off your face. You fold down the edge of the last page you read offhandedly and let your book flutter closed. “What? Quinn said you were in… sports.”

“Well,” Bucky sucks in a breath as if what he’s about to tell you is a revelation. “Soccer is a sport.”

“I know,” you affirm blandly. “But are you actually in biomedical?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “What, do you not believe me?” he asks, raising a gloved hand to his chest. “I must say, I’m very disappointed in you perpetuating harmful stereotypes.”

“I’m just surprised. You’ve never talked about it before.”

“We’ve talked four times,” Bucky points out. “Although I want it clear that I have tried to make it more.”

“Yeah, what’s that about, by the wayt?” you wonder, setting your elbows on the table and dropping your face into your hands, cocking your head at him. “From what I’ve seen, you have your fair pick of girls and guys.”

“I wouldn’t say that—”

You laugh quietly. “Sure.”

“But I like you,” Bucky explains, shrugging. “You’re smart and pretty and you interest me.”

You scan his face, squinting. Astonishment tints your chuckle. “You are so much better at this than I thought you were.”

“Sorry?”

“At first, I was like ‘this guy? This is the Becky people won’t shut up about?’”

“Bucky,” he corrects swiftly.

“But I see it now. The charm. I’m not falling for it, but I see it.” You nod appreciatively and open your book once again to continue reading.

Bucky frowns in front of you, reaching over to insert an abrupt hand in between the pages. “What are you talking about?”

Sighing, you peel his fingers off the pages and meet his eyes, startled to see their intensity, crinkles at their edges, his lips pinched in a pout. You gasp. “Oh my god, you’re doing it now.”

“Sweetheart, it’s something that just happens naturally, I’m not doing anything.”

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head, turning back to your book. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re ridiculous.”

“Go out with me, c’mon,” Bucky urges, smiling now. It’s stupidly sweet.

You click your tongue. “Dates are a waste of time.”

“I’ll make it worth it. Promise.”

“I don’t have time to go out with guys I’ve talked to four times,” you explain.

“Alright, so if I talk to you more, you’ll go out with me?”

You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t… I’m not liking where this is going.”

“I will talk to you every single day from now on,” Bucky vows.

“Oh, I was right,” you groan. “I just mean you don’t know me. My favorite color, my favorite book, my order at my favorite restaurant, things like that.”

“I will know all of that,” he pledges.

You laugh disbelievingly. “Okay, Borky.”

A cocky little smirk plays on his lips as he winks. “Bucky,” he says archly.

-

You learn his name. Completely. Totally. Unmistakably. 

It’s hard not to, not when he becomes a constant in your life and not with a name like that.

James Buchanan Barnes. It rolls off your tongue too nicely all of a sudden.

He talks to you every day. Just like he said he would, even if it’s a two-minute conversation over text where he makes sure you get home safe and asks about your day. It would be overwhelming if it didn’t make you smile so much.

He doesn’t get upset when you answer two hours later because you were distracted with work, asking you how Linda the librarian was and if she liked the cookie he got her three days ago.

You relay her enthusiastic message, deciding to brush over the wink and coy smile she sent you at his mention. Then maybe, because you’re finished with your work for the day, you shove aside your notebook and bite back a small smile when he tells you how pretty he thought you looked in the glimpses he had of you today.

Organizing your books into a neat little pile, you message him and Bruce that you’re heading home. And you intend to, you really do, but then Bucky insists you call him the next time so he can walk you home, and you’ve suddenly been sitting at your table, uselessly leaning against your things for ten minutes.

You shoot up when you realize, lightly bewildered with yourself, gathering everything into your arms as quickly as possible, and shoving your phone into your back pocket. You hope Bruce isn’t getting too worried as you push open the library doors, hurrying down the steps and onto the path you usually take. You’re alert as always, careful to listen past the crunching of leaves beneath your feet and watch for shadows that edge past yours, digging your keys out of your pocket to hold them in the spaces between your fingers.

It’s three minutes in when you begin to feel unsettled. Your phone has vibrated three times in your back pocket in the past two minutes, but the darker section of your path is coming up, and chills rush up your neck as you imagine what the distraction could cost.

A shadow follows nearby, inching closer and closer until your hands are shaking and you’re on the verge of running.

Fingers wrap around your arm and you shriek, books slipping from your arms when they wane. Stumbling back, you tug yourself away from the intrusion, breaths coming out in big, wet gasps when you turn. Bucky’s wide blue eyes meet your glossy ones, hands up in surrender when he catches the tremble of your bottom lip.

A tear streaks down your cheek in profusing relief that it’s only him, the anger indistinguishable beneath it as you stumble into Bucky on wobbly knees, his name braided in a whimper. His arms settle around you hesitantly, guiltily.

“You scared me,” you whisper. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on people?”

“I'm sorry,” he replies sincerely. “I didn’t think—”

“I'm just relieved it’s you,” you interrupt, fingers fisting his shirt. You’re far away, stuck in a memory very far away, and yet it feels enough like you’re standing in it. Your grip is a vice, forcing him closer still until the pads of your fingers can feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt. 

Bucky murmurs your name, a large palm stroking up and down your back in comfort. His voice is mournful. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You snap out of it at the nickname, pulling away from his embrace as if you’d awoken. He doesn’t startle, only stares at the furrow of your brow and the light that reflects off of your cheeks. Swallowing hard, you blink away the rest of your daze, eyes falling on your things scattered on the ground.

“My computer,” you remember, frantically dropping to your knees to search for it.

Bucky doesn’t pry, kneeling next to you to help pick up your books, taking the ones you’d stacked up sloppily into his arms. You carry your laptop with a careful grip, relatively unharmed.

“I should get going,” you tell him, motioning to take your things from him but he refuses, ushering you into his car.

It’s silent for a while after you halfheartedly agree, obviously still embarrassed. Bucky’s hesitant to probe, but the guilt at what he could’ve reminded you of gnaws at his gut.

You can feel his stare each time he glances at you curiously; cautiously, as if you’ll burst into tears spontaneously. 

“I was attacked once.” Your voice is quiet, soft for the obvious teeth the words pierce you with. “Walking home from the library,” you explain. “It’s why Bruce doesn’t like me walking home alone.”

“You… someone…” Bucky pinches his lips into a tense line, fingers tightening around the wheel. “Why?” It’s painfully incredulous.

You look down at your lap, the left edge of your lips pulling into your cheek. “I was alone. It was easy.” What’s left to say seems painful for you to push out. “He didn’t like me very much.”

“I'm sorry,” Bucky offers after a tense second, unsure of what else to say and how angry he can be for you.

“For what? You didn’t have anything to do with it,” you retort, offering him a weak smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“For scaring you,” Bucky insists sincerely. “For the fact that it happened in the first place.” You don’t respond, watching as trees and lights flash past the window.

“It really wasn’t as bad as you think. The label makes it seem worse,” you palliate. “He hit me once and pushed me against a wall. A bruise was the worst of it. Both physically and to my bank account.”

Bucky’s frown stays, quiet blanketing the both of you.

“So, why’d you come get me? How’d you know I was only on my way?” you chime suddenly.

“I wanted to check up on you. You weren’t answering your phone.”

You pause, meeting his eyes with an inquisitive pinch to your features. “So you drove to find me?”

“Technically, I just wanted to drop by your apartment to make sure you got home safe, but that sounds better, so let’s go with it.” Bucky shoots you a grin. An olive branch.

You accept it as you mimic the sweet curve of his lips. “Ah, yes, and that’s how Barnacle gets ‘em. Being charming and funny and sweet—”

He lets a light chuckle slip past his lips, sparing you a delicate glance. You’re already looking at him, softer in your gaze than he’s ever seen you.

He hums inquisitively. “You think I'm charming and funny and sweet?”

You laugh openly, shaking your head but not negating his words. You hug your laptop closer to your chest, constellations reflected in your shadowed eyes as you look through the window. “I think—” you inhale in relief. “We’re here.”

Bucky slows to a stop when he reaches your dorm, shutting off the car and stepping out as you pack up. You only notice his actions when your fingers slip past the handle once you move to open your own door, huffing air out of your nose when he smirks wantonly at you.

“Thank you,” you grunt, climbing out and clutching your things.

You walk ahead, listening to the door slam and the subsequent sound of shoes quick against the pavement until he walks steadily beside you. “So, you wanna do that again soon?”

You laugh, motioning to grab your keys. “Do what again?”

He steals the jingling set from your fingers, moving hurriedly to the door when you make a noise hald surprise half indignation. He jams a silver one in, cringing when it doesn’t fit. You glower as you reach him, eyeing his hands as they continue to shove the wrong key in the lock. “It's the bronze one—no, the other one. How do you not—”

The door swings open, a satisfied smile parting Bucky’s face.

“Thanks,” you sigh, taking back your keys as you step inside. He stands outside awkwardly, kicking a pebble around with his foot. You squint doubtfully at him after you’ve set your things down and he’s not following behind you like you thought he would be. “What’re you doing?”

“You have to invite me in,” he explains.

“What, like a vampire?”

He blinks. “Yeah, like a vampire.”

You grin toothily. “Vucky…” It drips in an exaggerated accent.

“It's cold out here,” he reminds.

“Maybe you should go home then,” you suggest.

His face drops for a second and you find yourself feeling a tug of something sickening at your stomach. Like a reflex, the offer leaves your throat before you can help it.

“Or. Come inside.” At his hesitant posture, you suck in a bubble of air. “Do you want to come in? You’re welcome to.” I want you to.

He stares at you long enough for you to squirm before a smile breaks through his face. “Really?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, flimsy regret already churning in your gut. “Yeah. Just come on in already. It’s cold outside, dummy.”

-

It’s startling the first time you miss Bucky's ever-constant presence.

You’d rather not admit it, but it’s hard not to—not when he finds you between classes to carry your books, teasing you about your lack of a backpack but always leaving you with only your laptop and a pen in hand. You can’t help the smiles when he “coincidentally” bumps into you at your favorite coffee shop enough times to have your order ready when you arrive on your tea day.

His goofy jokes while you study at the library get less annoying and, annoyingly, more endearing. You suddenly know a whole lot about biomedical engineering and Bucky. You know his sister’s favorite color and can spout stories about Steve before he grew five times his size like you were there yourself.

It's infuriating, you think, but you don’t mind as much when Bucky's making you laugh with lovely crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

“I like the ocean,” you say sometime at the library, books spread on the table, ignored. He looks up from his notebook in surprise, putting down the pen you’d lent him two weeks ago. “It’s the reason why my favorite color is blue.”

His own blue glitters as he nods, listening. “‘Thought it was because of my eyes.”

You reward him a laugh and a roll of your eyes. “I really wanted Atlantis to be real when I was little,” you tell him. “And mermaids. Even if they were the ugly ones that murder you,” You confess in a rare moment of transparency, meeting his eyes before you clear your throat, bringing your attention back to your laptop.

“I like space,” Bucky offers. “It's endless.”

You nod in acceptance, clearing your throat as if to rid yourself of what you’ve given him.

“You collect those squished pennies, right?” Bucky asks. 

You’re startled that he remembers, and it takes a second for your brain to catch up. “Uh—yeah. Why?” 

Bucky turns to dig around in his bag, pulling out something small and bronze and shiny with a brilliant smile. ”I went to this little souvenir shop the other day and found one of those machines.” He extends it to you and flips it slowly between his index and middle. “It has a little fuzzy monster thing on it. I don’t get it, to be honest.”

It never crossed your mind that he would do that for you. A startling line of electricity runs up your arm when your fingers meet his, quick to take the penny from him. “Thank you,” you mutter, observing the coin in the light. The large eyes of the embossed little monster stare back at you. “This is really nice of you.”

“It’s not big deal,” Bucky shrugs. “I just thought you’d like it.”

Honey fills your throat. Gulping, you glance at the clock, nearly relieved to see it’s time for you to leave. “I gotta go,” you tell him, gathering your things. The smooth edges of the penny dig into your palm. He stands in tandem, rolling his shoulders.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to,” you begin.

“I want to. Besides, it would kind of feel weird not to after so long.”

You nod along. “Right.” 

He ducks his chin in affirmation, picking up his stuff too. Furtively, he lightens your own load.

You notice but know better than point it out and argue, remembering how you ended up bedrudgingly carrying only a pen last time.

“Does Sam still have your car?” you ask as you leave the library.

“Yup. One more week, he says.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Well, he’s been saying that for two, so…”

You laugh, staring up at a big tree vignetted orange.

Bucky nudges you lightly as you begin to drift away, preventing you from walking into the street. He guides you past a fissure in the sidewalk as you gasp at something in a boutique’s window. “There’s a sale at the bookstore!”

“Wanna go tomorrow?” Bucky asks.

You nod. “Can we?”

“Sure, we’ll just leave the library a little earlier,” Bucky suggests, balancing the books in his arms.

“Someone’s sure of themselves,” you tease. “You’re walking me home tomorrow, too?”

“Of course. I have been for months,” Bucky points out with a shrug.

Your jests die on your tongue as you realize he’s right, the discovery shocking when the memories of your solitary walks are further away than you had thought; suddenly, you remember that the dog you’d pointed out two weeks ago was more for his benefit than yours.

“Weeks,” you argue weakly, throat suddenly dry.

“Weeks could definitely be months,” Bucky reasons. 

You ignore him, stopping in your tracks. “Why?”

A frown tugs at his lips as he pauses as well. “Because weeks add up to months?”

“Why have you been walking me home every day for months?”

“‘Thought it was weeks?”

“Bucky,” you say, a little urgent.

He shrugs boyishly, near flippant but your things in his arms don’t let you believe that. “I don't want you to walk alone.” Then, “I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Shocked pupils dart around wildly and it’s difficult to swallow before you steady yourself, clearing your throat. Your features are pinched in a sort of raw determination—open, honest. “Thank you.”

He smiles and it’s soft as he shrugs lightly, nearly nonchalant.

Before you let yourself get too caught up in the curve of his lips and realize you’ve imitated it unconsciously, you look away, clearing your throat in relief when you spot your door.

“Right. Um, thanks again.” You take your things from him before he can think twice about it, speed walking to your door.

“Wait—” he stammers out, confused and too late when you give him a wave and a quick goodbye before slamming the door shut.

You swallow hard on the other side of the door, wide eyes staring aimlessly into the darkness. In the dreaded stillness, you can feel the heat that creeps up your neck and floods stickily into your face, the prickling static that needles into your palms. Shakily and illicitly, a hand drifts up to your chest, pressing to feel the thundering beating of your heart.

You curse to the silence, letting your eyes flutter shut in candied disappointment.

-

Bucky thinks you’re acting weird.

No—he’s sure you’re acting weird.

He knows you now, can recognize the sarcastic lines of your cheeks when you wrinkle your nose and poke fun at him. He’s memorized the genuine curve of your lips when he’s said something so cheesy it circles around to sweet. He knows you at your angry and at your happy, but he doesn’t know this.

You’re being nice to him. Sticky nice. Not you-nice.

He tries teasing first, poking a pencil into the flesh of your arm and asking if you’d fallen in love or something. You’d scoffed, blinked fast, and swatted him away. But you didn’t say no.

He’s aware he’s a fool to think so large of a lack of something, but he can’t pretend like it doesn’t inspire something in him, something like hope, like nectar, sticky in his throat.

He wonders if it clogs words up in yours—if it’s the reason you’re so quiet.

You stare through your computer, steam from your tea disappearing into the air as you blink. There’s a sweet indent in between your eyebrows, similar to the one you get when you study something you don’t completely understand, usually accompanied by the nail of your thumb between your teeth. But this one is lighter, more unintentional. You’re struggling with something but he can’t figure out what.

Your eyes flicker up to his, glinting in the light when you catch them on you.

“What?” you blurt. It’s louder than you intend, and you purse your lips in that embarrassed way that you do, shrinking down into your seat. “Why are you staring at me?”

“You’re pretty,” he says honestly.

He waits for your usual flustered reaction and you give it to him, but it’s vignetted with something, different in the quick blinks of your eyes and the thumb you brush over your nose. 

“I'm hungry,” you complain, ignoring his compliment.

“I'll buy you something,” Bucky responds immediately, already pulling out his wallet.

“You don’t have to,” you remind. “I wasn’t asking, I was just—”

“I know, it’s fine,” Bucky insists.

“I can pay. It’s my food.”

“It’s just a meal.” He squints at you. “You never pass up a chance of food on me.” He presses the back of his palm against your forehead and leans in closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

You heat up beneath his touch, shaking him off with a scowl. “You make me sound awful. Fine. Buy me my food then.”

Bucky raises his hands in surrender, wallet between his index and middle finger rising with his shoulders. “I will.” He squeezes your shoulder before he walks away, dipping down to your ear to whisper, “And you’re not awful.”

You huff, pinching your lips together as you watch him get in line, nudging his fingers into his wallet to take out money.

Arbitrarily, you’re annoyed. Bucky Barnes is infuriating, with his long charcoal lashes and lilting chuckle and nonchalance in giving things you want without your asking.

Your laptop screen darkens with your lack of attention, and you’re left staring at yourself, scrutinizing the thin lines around your eyes as you squint. You’re being ridiculous; you can’t be angry over Bucky being a sweet guy.

“They musta’ known you were coming,” Bucky whistles, balancing a bowl and a small bag already darkened with grease spots in his arms. You take the bowl from him, warmth seeping into your fingertips.

You furrow your brows at him when you pop the lid off, barely realizing you’d never told him what to get. “You got me cavatappi pasta,” you realize. You look upset.

“Yeah?”

Distressed, you snatch the bag from him, shoving your fingers inside to pull out two large chocolate chip cookies. “And chocolate chip cookies.” Your voice rises and falls with a slightly unhinged twinge, features pulling as you examine what Bucky got for you. Your comfort food; the token you’d never explained to him.

“Yeah. It’s what you always get. And I know you always want two cookies but only get one because you’re afraid you won’t finish it, but we can split it or you can save it, or—what are you doing?”

You sweep everything into your arms, holding the food tightly behind your books.

“I have to go.”

“What? We just got here.”

“I have an appointment.”

“For what?”

“For—things—it’s—” you huff. “I have to go.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride? I have my car back, you know,” Bucky offers, already beginning to get up, but you shake your head, his actions hitting something in your chest.

“I'll be fine, thanks for the…” you exhale sharply. “I'll see you later.”

You run off, ignoring his confused call of your name as you slam the door behind you.

Hot soup dribbles down your fingers as you speed walk back home, but you barely notice, struggling to remember why you’d rejected him before.

“I hate him,” you mumble, fully dishonest as you struggle with your keys. “I hate him so much.”

“Hate who?” Bruce asks from the table, sparing you a glance from his computer. His eyebrows join as he takes you in, every panting and crazed inch of you, mouth parting and head tilting. “Uh.”

“Bucky,” you reply, setting the a la carte box down hastily. You drop the cookies next to it.

Bruce stares at you.

You make a big gesture with your hands toward it, pursing your lips. “He bought me that. Just—insisted. He's so—” you sigh frustratedly. “I didn't even—he bought me cookies.”

“Okay.” It's long and hesitant. “And that’s bad because…” he begins to shake his head. “You don’t like cookies?”

Your shoulders drop.

“You hate cookies and pasta. You think they’re awful,” Bruce tries.

“No! I love soup and cavatappi and—he’s ruining everything! He's such an idiot!” you rub your face, nuzzling your nose into the crevice between your joined hands.

Bruce examines you for another second before: “Oh.”

“What?” you snap, meeting amused brown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bruce muses, but his lips are set in a careful smile, amusement poorly hidden. “Just that you finally learned his name.”

His thoughts are pathetically obvious in his tone, lips in a thin line and eyes crinkled.

“Don’t,” you warn. “Bruce Banner—”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Do not think what you’re thinking,” you demand. “He’s a player and a distraction and—”

“Okay.” Bruce has never been one to argue, but his one word answer makes you more frustrated than anything else he could’ve said.

You puff and gather your food, striding to your room with a glare at your best friend. 

-

For the first time since you met Bucky, you follow through on an excuse to miss the game. It’s not a majorly important one—although Bucky pouts when you tell him either way, insisting that he needs you there for good luck—but you still feel a strange ache at the bottom of your stomach when the game begins and you’re too far away to cheer for him.

The edges of your lips are downturned, brows pinched as you stare at your phone before you realize what you’re doing and snap your attention away.

Scoffing, you shake away thoughts about soccer and the memory of Bucky's sweet blue eyes when he’d teased you, a strange tone of real sadness beneath his playful jests.

You pause, lifting your hands from your computer to eye the time once again. Furtively scanning the work you’re nearly done with, you allow yourself the distraction and grab your phone, fingers dancing in anticipation when your lock screen is littered with icons of messaging apps.

You click Bucky’s name first, smiling softly as you read a quickly typed summary of the game he probably sent after the first half was over. He sounds hopeful and excited, like he always does when he talks abouts soccer, but he signs off with a mispelled reminder that he misses you and a red heart. You check Wanda and Bruce's messages next, your face falling when you learn the second half hadn’t gone as well.

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance at your work again and then at the clock, taking a quick breath before you force yourself to write a quick conclusion you promise yourself you’ll revise when you get home.

The game is over by the time you arrive, easily finding a parking spot in the midst of everyone’s departure. You hear disappointed grumbling as you make your way inside the stadium and cringe, striding toward the locker room.

Your name in Bruce’s voice makes you pause, turning to meet his pulled, bushy eyebrows and pinched lips. “What’re you doing here?”

“I finished early,” you explain. “And you said the game wasn’t going great so I thought I'd come and make sure the team’s okay.”

Bruce's features morph into something like realization and then into his poor poker face, lips pursed so tightly they’re edged white. “Right. The team.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, since it’s the whole team, I should let you know most of them are in the locker room moping, but Bucky wanted to leave early.” Bruce looks pointedly to the right.

“What? Why?”

Bruce shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe he said something about seeing you, but since you’re here for the team—”

“Shut up, Bruce.” You squint meanly at him, making him swallow a laugh as you spin around and continue on your path. 

You bump into Bucky when you turn a corner, familiar hands coming to rest on your arms distractedly before his eyes brighten in recognition. He says your name in surprise, shaking you gently as if to check that you’re real. His hair is damp from the quick shower he’d just taken, dark spots from water droplets around the collar of his gray shirt. He smells like soap and Bucky and it makes you a little dizzy.

“Hey, I heard about the game,” you say. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh. I was just coming to see you. I told you that you were our lucky charm.” Bucky laughs but it’s not completely honest, his disappointment about the loss shining through.

You frown, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, you shove your hands into your coat pockets, pulling out a crinkled baggie in each one. “I brought you something.”

Bucky steps back, eyebrows furrowed as he notices what you’re holding. “Are those orange slices?”

Nervous now, you let your arms drop. “Yeah. I, uh—figured they’d maybe give you a boost and—” You cut yourself off, laughing awkwardly. “It was dumb.”

“My mom used to bring me orange slices after soccer practice,” Bucky mumbles.

You perk up. “Yeah. You told me about that and I thought maybe you’d like them.” The end of your sentence lilts like a question, answered by the quick movements of Bucky's fingers when he takes a baggie from you and pulls it open, taking a slice out to grin happily at it.

He dips his fingers in again and hands another to you, bumping his own small slice against yours. “Cheers.”

As soon as he bites into it, the juice from the fruit runs down his fingers, eyelids falling closed in a delighted hum. You barely realize the sap has streaked sticky orange down your arm, too.

He breathes out your name as he opens his eyes, a dazzling blue in the fluorescent lights of the locker room hall. “I forgot how…” He shakes his head, drifting off, and takes the other bag from you, pulling you to him. He sighs big and warm, rumbling through his chest.

You rub your nose against his sweatshirt, breathing in deeply. There's the fresh scent of citrus and then the lavender body wash you’d bought for him faint beneath his own distinct smell. He thanks you blithely, a lot lighter.

You shrug it off and force yourself to pull away, shivering at the loss even if you initiated it. “Do you want to get something to eat and watch that new episode of The Great British Bake-Off we missed last week?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, hand drifting down to pull yours along. His skin is sticky and sweet against yours, orange juice smearing on your palm, but you can’t find it in you to care.

-

You feel sick when you step outside; a sticky, prickly rush that coats your throat in sap. It’s cold enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin, dark enough for the stars to drown in ink. Any appetite you had disappears, replaced with something clammier and painful, a twisting anxiety as a result of a bad day and a completely avoidable situation.

The bags with your food bump warmly against your knee, plastic handles pulling against the skin of your wrist. If you stay as you are, there will be indents of them once you finally put the bag down. 

Something like dumb, chest-puffed stubbornness tugs incessantly at you when you contemplate calling Bruce to come pick you up, a biting voice snapping pathetic for even thinking about it convincing you to shut the door behind you, locking away the choice of warmth and safety and shame.

It’s very silent when you begin to walk, the crinkling of your bag loud and in tandem with your steps. You let it slide down and hook on your fingers, carefully aware of shadows that might peek out behind yours and off-space footsteps.

Lonely fingers curl in on themselves, missing the comforting frigidity of the keys you’d forgotten at home. Your dying phone vibrates in the tight grip of your hand, spurring your steps faster. A dark lump appears on your shadow’s shoulder, and you freeze, spinning around violently to face the street, empty behind you.

You turn back around hesitantly, breath trembling. You could’ve sworn you felt someone else behind you.

Eyes rounded and wet, you begin to walk again, feeling an uncomfortable heat in the space where your ribs meet. Your required cognizance turns frantic, making your fingers shake and oxygen difficult to get into your lungs. There’s an echo to your footsteps. When you blink, there’s the ghost of an unforgiving hand on the back of your neck, the sharp slam of your jaw against brick. You gasp when you open your eyes again, a hand flying to the aching skin of your neck as you spin.

Your eyes promise that there’s no threat lurking behind darkness, but your mind blares with an assurance that there is. Ducking behind a wall, you scramble for your phone, cheeks cold with air-slapped tears as you press the call button for the first contact your fingers find.

Bucky’s voice is confused and comforting when he answers.

“I think—I think someone is following me,” you whimper, pulling your legs to your chest. Your food warms the side of your thigh. 

“What? Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “I’m sorry, I should, it’s just—I was walking home from the restaurant and I heard something and I can’t concentrate, I can’t breathe—”

“Okay, it’s okay. Try to breathe, okay? Can you tell me what restaurant it was?”

You can picture the glowing sign, the faded wallpaper, the flowered curtains, but you can’t think, barrelling you deeper into panic. “I can’t remember—I—”

You can hear Bucky open his door. “Hey, it’s okay. Were you eating there or picking up to go?”

“To-go,” you answer tearfully, concentrating on the box pressing into your flesh.

“Okay. For you and Bruce or just you?”

“B-both of us.”

“You’re doing great, sweetheart. Try to take deep breaths, I think I—”

There’s a hollow click before it’s silent, the calm you’d been grasping at completely gone. “Bucky?” you plead. “Bucky?”

You pull your phone away from your ear, vision going blurry when you tap desperately at the screen and it doesn’t respond. Dead.

There’s a tremendous weight on your chest, your elbow knocking against the wall behind you with your attempts to draw in a breath. You shove your head in between your knees and try to remember Bucky’s voice, forget the cold fear that another clammy hand will reach for your hair and tug you up.

You need to get home. You can’t move.

You stifle your sobs with your leg, clawing at your shins and trying to think of anything else. You shove your hand in between your stomach and your legs, letting your phone fall to your thighs as the tips of your fingers reach the round hills of your collarbone. Your palm digs into your flesh until the beating of your heart pulses against your thumb, aching when you force it to stay put.

Thump, thump. “O-one,” you force, restraining your fingers from curling. Thump, thump. “Two.” A deep, shuddering breath that makes your mouth snap closed and your eyes flutter into darkness. Thump, thump. “Three…”

It’s how Bucky finds you, your nose deep between your knees, counting watery and muffled. He’s frantic when he sees you, panic like needles against his chest prickling to a pounding ache. He should be more cautious, stand still a few feet away for a few seconds, step slowly. If he were a little less in love, maybe he would; but he’s not, and the relief that you’re solid and no longer a tenuous voice on his phone is too much a relief.

He calls out your name and rushes forward, lowering himself down to his knees before he touches your arm. You flinch, shoving a strong hand against him, a horrible mix of anger and fear contorting your voice.

“It’s me. It’s Bucky.”

You still push yourself back against the wall, but your eyes finally meet his. “Bucky,” you test. “Bucky.”

It’s a silent, cold beat before you blink clearly, irises looking back a little less hazy. You murmur his name once more and promptly burst into tears, launching yourself into his chest. His arms wrap around you in tandem, pleasing the closeness your fisted fingers crave. He takes in your tears, steadily smoothing a hand over your back, desperation in the way he hooks his chin over the crown of your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks too soon.

You make a noise of which answer he can’t be sure of, so he gathers you up in his arms to push you away, only a little, only for a second to stare at you.

You grip at his shirt, cheeks shiny. And then, “I thought I was really gonna die this time.” Hearing your admittance causes a shift on your face, still crumpled and unready to deal with this. “Just for a second and—” Your lips twist to keep words back. 

Bucky pulls you back in.

“Will you take me home?”

His compliance is wordless and patient, hooking a finger through your takeout and grasping your hand with his free one, guiding you to his car. He helps you inside, setting the bag at your feet before he buckles your seatbelt and pushes strands of hair away from your sticky face.

Your breathing steadies while he drives, concentrating on the cool puffs of air hitting your collarbone, the lingering warmth from the food you’re suddenly starving for. But the wash of panic has left a shameful residue and a subsequent otiose apology on your tongue, making the once comforting silence expectant.

Your chest weighs when you finally spot your door, fighting to pull words from your mouth at the dimmed lights, but Bucky beats you to it, clearing his throat without unlocking the door. His left hand lays clothed on his lap, face stormed with uncertainty, but there’s a resolute edge that makes him look at you.

“I’m sorry,” you start, misunderstanding.

“Why?”

You aren’t sure, only certain of how guilty you feel. “For… bothering you. For making you comfort me. I’m sorry that you had to see me like that."

“Don’t apologize.” He clenches his jaw. “I don’t want you to…”

He shoves his sleeve up, taking a deep breath as he pinches the fingertips of the glove. “I know that wasn’t something you were ready to share with me. I understand, I…”

His gaze is heavy, flickering between your face and the fingers peeling away his glove. He swallows hard when it’s pulled off completely, looking away from the sight of his skin.

You can’t help the way your eyes track down his arm. It’s scarred with angry raised lines, ending at his fingertips and disappearing into his shirt sleeve. 

“I was in a fire once,” he says. “‘Got some scars too.”

“Is that why you wear—” You trail off at his nod. “Why are you… why are you telling me?” you ask, wincing at how the question sounds, but Bucky seems to understand what you mean.

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he lies.

You blink at him, slipping a sure hand into his and squeezing. “Thank you.”

His eyes stay startled on your interlocked fingers, stubborn even beneath his gaze. He laughs hollowly then, squeezing back before he finally meets your eyes. “You, too.”

-

Your fingers are wound tightly around Wanda’s arm, the nails digging into her sweater giving away what your face is trying to hide. You’re zeroed in on Bucky's figure as he runs across green after blurry white.

The energy from the others who cheer in the stands makes you buzz, a rush of confidence urging you to jump to your feet when Bucky passes the ball to Pietro and then has it once again, close enough to the other team’s goal to make you clench a hand in anticipation.

With the flesh of your thumb between your teeth, you can’t help but lose your breath when it looks like Bucky's going to try to make it, only for it to be knocked out from your lungs when he crashes to the ground from the impact of another player.

Your mouth parts in a surprised o, tongue playing his name before you can stop it.

It's eerily silent in the stadium for a second as Bucky lies on the field, before it disappears into a fold of angry screams.

You’re not worried.

Bucky has never gotten hurt on the field before—”I’m too good,” he had promised you with an uneven grin, annoying in the way that he’s right—and the only times it’s seemed otherwise have been lies, a mere play he put on for the free kick. He had shaken his head disappointedly at you when you’d gotten worried, condemning you for not trusting him. He’s playful when he’s flustered.

So you’re not worried, because you know Bucky is fine.

Except he hasn’t moved in a little while too long and you don’t think it’s ever taken him this long to fake it. Although, maybe it feels longer because you can’t take your eyes off his figure.

You’re not worried.

Your fingers say otherwise, thumb tapping against your alternating fingers so frantically they get jumbled together, clumsily bumping into the crevices between them.

“Is he hurt?” Wanda asks.

“No,” you say automatically, stretching your fingers out like a starfish as if to rid evidence of your anxiety. “No, he’s fine.”

It's another moment that seems too long and the lines of Wanda’s worried face deepen, breaths a little faster. “He's not… he’s not getting up.”

“He’s fine,” you insist. “He has to milk it.” Glancing up at the timer, you nod definitively. “Yes, he has to milk it to get the penalty kick.”

“What?” Wanda asks, meeting your eyes in confusion.

“The hit didn’t seem that bad,” you lie unsteadily. “He has to milk it. He’s fine.”

Your panic escapes in the highs of your voice, something translucent hiding it when you clear your throat. He's still not getting up and it makes your breath comes out quickly. “He has to be,” you admit.

Wanda’s brows furrow, eyes searching your face once Bucky finally limps weakly to his feet, giving the ref a short nod. A sigh large enough to make you bend slips past your lips, caught in a relieved laugh as you gesture to him.

“I told you,” you tell her.

“He’s limping,” she points out.

“It’s fake,” you assure, fingers digging round shadows into your temples. “He’s doing his hero face, he’s completely fine.” It comes out more relieved than you thought it would.

He gets his penalty kick, makes it, of course, and it’s another few, a lot slower minutes before the game is over, but you’re making your way down thirty seconds before, too much attention on the game rather than your footing on the stairs.

You stumble over your feet, barely caring when the whistle blows to indicate the game is over, and turn in the direction of the hall to the locker room. Your anxiety nearly seems silly now, not as oppressive now that the soaked towel you’d been waterboarded with was dry. Yet, it still prickles at your fingertips, faint but enough to ache.

It's only a couple minutes before you can hear the pattering of feet, the stress that the outliers are Bucky, limping like he did on that field, nudging at your mind. The players wave at you, surprised, and your heart grows heavier and heavier with each passing team shirt that does not have “BARNES” on the back.

Then he’s there, completely fine and near the end of the line. He's grinning at the apparent win, letting Steve shove him proudly. His eyes widen in surprise when they catch sight of your own, saying something to his teammates without looking at them as he steps toward you.

“Hey, what’re you—”

Unable to help yourself, you throw your arms around his neck, the prickling disappearing the moment you touch him. He is hot and solid in your arms, but most importantly completely fine.

“Hey,” he coos, hugging you back.

You allow him a moment before you pull back abruptly and smack his arm.

“Ow!” he complains, grabbing your hand.

“You asshole! What’s up with the drama?”

“What, did I scare you?” Bucky teases, smirk dropping when your deadpan doesn’t glitter with playfulness. “Doll?”

“You took your sweet time getting back up,” you continue, ignoring his words. “You’ve never taken that long.” You’re alone in the hall now, eyes frenetic over his figure.

He softens then, chin pulling closer to his neck so his eyes can give you a reassuring smile. “Hey,” he says softly, tapping your wrist with his index, “‘m fine.”

“I know,” you contend, but it comes out a little relieved at hearing it in his voice. “I told Wanda that.”

His cheeks apple at your statement, amusement twinkling back in his eyes. “Of course. My girl knows I can't get hurt.”

You scoff at the term of endearment, nervous energy dissolving. “I'm not your girl.”

“Not yet!” he proclaims.

You wrinkle your nose, stepping away from him. “You stink. Go shower.” You pat his shoulder as a goodbye, beginning to head back out.

“Sure know how to charm a guy,” he mumbles, watching you walk away with a dopey smile.

-

You’re in your room, laying on your stomach with your computer in front of you and a drink Bucky had bought for you sitting on your bedside table.

He's sitting against your bed, scanning over a document. You should be doing something like it, but you can’t help but be distracted. He's quiet for once, features set in something not playful and not serious, a small knot between his brows indicating his concentration.

He looks pretty. You can’t be blamed.

If he notices your gaze, he’s kind enough to not point it out, although it’s unlikely. It’s undoubtedly heavy.

He’s staring down at his hand when he speaks up for what seems like the first time since hes arrived. His fingers dance nervously before he shoves them away from his view, edges of thick tissue peeking out as a bracelet on his wrist. “Do I make you uncomfortable when I flirt?”

You blink owlishly at him, unsure how to answer. He sounds so serious, guilty. “No.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop.”

“I know you would. But it doesn’t. Is something wrong?”

Bucky cringes. “You don’t really flirt back. I just want to make sure it’s not because I make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t! I just… don’t really flirt. I don’t really think there’s a point if I’m not dating.”

“You don’t date?” He’s known this. To a point, which he thinks is not completely accurate now that he hears the way you say it.

“No.”

“Not even guys you like?”

“Especially guys I like, ” you clarify, cringing with the difficulty of putting so many feelings into so insignificant words. “Things get messy. It’s just… distractions and it’s never worth it.”

“You think love isn’t worth it? That it’s a distraction?”

You shoot him a look, huffing a little disappointedly, as if you’d expected him to understand something and he didn’t. “Why do people always twist my words into something so cynical?

I didn’t say that. Not love. I never said love, I just—it never ends well. It’s always something you pour so much into and get so little back.”

Bukcy shifts. “That’s not true. A relationship is fair, or at least, it’s supposed to be.”

“Ah, but see, ‘supposed to be’ and ‘is’ are two different things. I’d rather just skip the entire thing.”

Bucky frowns. “I don’t think you should.”

“You don’t think I should?”

“I don’t… I’m not telling you what to do, but I really think you should try. Love can be really great. And you deserve that.”

Your nails pinch at your fingers. “But what if it isn’t?”

“Then it isn’t.” You move to rebut, but Bucky continues. “But what if it is?”

You refuse to answer, chewing on your bottom lip.

Bucky gazes at you, waiting for a response before he realizes he won’t get one. He doesn’t push, turning back to his work.

“Why do you care so much?” you ask.

He sucks in a breath before admitting, “Mainly because I think you would really enjoy being loved. And very partially because I’m selfish.”

You hum. “You’re a really good guy, Bucky.”

“I try.”

You scowl lightly. “Incorrigible. Annoying. But really good.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t forget—what was it you said about me? Charming? Sweet? Hand-to-heart hilarious?”

You launch a pillow at his head. “Nuisance is what I should’ve said.”

“Mm, a little contradictory but what’s life without some juxtaposition? Maybe I’m a man of many talents.”

The tip of your index finger shoves into his arm.

You fall into a peaceful silence once again when the laughter dissolves, your fingers busy away at your keyboard. There's a moment where you’re thinking, staring intently just past your computer and Bucky is staring at you, a thoughtful expression on his face, stony and all.

“Will you?”

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you. “Will I what?”

“Give it a chance.”

You want a moment to ponder it, because you know the right answer but you aren’t sure if you want to pick it. “Give what a chance?” you play dumb, but he doesn’t buy it.

You look to your side, unfocused eyes lazy on an ugly painting.

“Yeah, maybe.” You want to tell him it depends who it is, that you have very strict rules mentioning annoying brunets with blue eyes who walk you home from the library and never shut up, but you don’t, eyes travelling back to him slowly. His silence when they finally meet his own tell you he knows anyway.

Quickly looking back down, you avoid his gaze and continue to work.

-

You melt into his side, delightfully prickling when you lean in a little closer to take a sip of your drink. Eyes shimmering in the lame lights of the bar, you’ve never looked so openly bright, hardly containing your delight and everything you can spilling past anyway.

There are enough people in the place for it to feel rightfully uncomfortable, sweat-sticky skin bumping into the arm he has around your chair and making the heat rise, but Bucky can’t seem to notice.

It would feel plain ignorant to do so—to not focus completely on the stitched pride in the dips of your smile or the warmth of your palms as they splay flat on his arm.

It’s not enough to just have your fingers tug at him during conversations with strangers, he feels he should imprint the feeling of your touch like a branding.

You say his name in conversation, cruelly dragging your hand down to bracelet around his wrist and squeezing. You make a little shimmy with your shoulders that can’t help but make him laugh. He zeroes in on your lips, trying to make sense of what you’re saying.

You’re cute. You’re too sweet to be in this stuffy bar with him.

You turn to him brightly in the midst of another exclamation and he feels himself transported.

He can feel the end buzzer vibrating up to his fingertips, the breeze on the heat of his skin when he’d looked up, eyes searching for you like a habit. 

Your features are shrunken into the memory, suddenly far away but still pulled into the biggest beam you could muster, hands clapping ecstatically.

“Bucky,” memory-you says liltingly, too clearly.

When he blinks, he’s back in the present, the tip of your index dimpling his bicep, your face close enough for him to count each individual eyelash. He grins without really thinking about it. “Bucky,” you repeat, a little harsher but still teasing.

“Yeah?” he responds finally.

“We’re complimenting you and you aren’t paying attention? Are you feeling okay?” you frown, lips downturned but the edges of your eyes still crinkled with happy lines. The back of your hand meets his forehead.

“Fantastic,” he says, his left hand vining up to hook around your fingers and lay them on his lap. “Just won a game, didn’t you hear? All by myself, too.”

You shake your head at him, turning back to who Bucky realizes is one of your friends. Carol, you’d said.

“See?” You say accusatorily. 

Carol grins. “Yeah. Kind of hard not to when you describe it so thoroughly.”

That catches Bucky’s fluttering attention, an eyebrow shooting up questioningly in your direction. Your lips part in betrayal at Carol, and you begin to take your hand back from Bucky, but he hooks your wrist before you can. 

“I think Maria is calling you,” you tell her. “You should go see what that’s about.”

“Now, now,” Bucky starts. “Actually, I think I want to know how thoroughly you talk about me, sweeheart.”

“That's my cue,” Carol laughs, dipping a beer at you both. “I'll see you guys later. Congrats on the game.”

She bounces to her feet and takes off, leaving the two of you alone. Bucky nudges a finger in between your ribs, making you jump and swat at him. “Hey!”

“You talk about me to your friends?”

You stare at him, bottom lip pushing out defensively in your tipsiness. “Well, the star football player is one of my best friends, shouldn’t I be allowed to brag?”

“Best friend, huh? Bruce gonna be jealous?”

You wave him off, making a small, stubborn sound. “He ought to get over it with how much he ditches me.”

“See, I would never.” Bucky presses his free hand to his heart in oath. “Star football players are very reliable. Scoring goals, keeping plans, etcetera.”

You grin at the reminder, something sparkling beneath your skin like static, jolting your fingers when it begins to brim. You splay an excited palm on his shoulder out of pure excitement, seeming to relive the night.

“I am so proud of you,” you say. Saccharine, words stout with a smile and pride. “You did so well today.”

You’re startlingly genuine, entirely proud. Bucky can’t bring himself to tease or flirt.

“Thank you.”

You smile prettily, the light in your irises shifting at his authenticity. “I am,” you insist.

You just want to tell him, for him to hear you and understand how much you mean it. Your pupils flicker to a spot above his shoulder, distant for a second as your face brightens more. You laugh disbelievingly.

“I don't know all that much about football but from what I do, you’re certifiably extraordinary.” You sound out the word, unwilling to mess it up when you mean it so much. You try again. “You made a really great play.”

“Impossible,” Bucky corrects completely unsubtly, but it’s soft, blurred by yellow light from above and buzz from you.

You observe him for a second. “I think you’re amazing,” you say thoughtfully, not in an effort to compliment but in a sort of realization. “What… type of person…” you start but don’t continue, tongue unable to keep up with everything running through your mind. The walks home, the paid lunches, the attention, the ability. 

You inhale sharply, as if realizing you’re drifting off and trying to pull yourself back in.

Bucky knows what you expect—what he expects of himself—but he can’t bring himself to tease you, reiterate your words with an artful curve of his lips. He can’t concentrate enough to ignore the prickly warmth at the bottom of his stomach. He glances down at his watch.

“Should we go?” he says instead, casual but urgent. “It's late.”

He stands before you can process his offer, still a little drunk from stolen sips but only enough to make contrasts lighter. You blink up at him from your seat for a second before nodding, two short, stressed lines between your brows. He shouldn’t have been so abrupt.

Kinder, he helps you from your seat and guides you toward the door, keeping you away from stray elbows with benevolent redirection.

Your breath curls visibly in the air when you step outside, white and dissolving until it is replaced by another, longer exhale. You wrap your arms around your torso.

“C'mon,” he urges, guiding you to his car. “Let’s get you warm.”

“Should you be driving?” you ask as he searches his pockets for the keys, standing at the car door, watching him. “And what about the others?”

“Didn’t drink,” he answers, patting his coat pockets until he finds what he’s looking for.

You frown, slowly running through the night and realizing he’s right, recalling the sparkling water dripping moisture next to his jacket sleeve. The cold and the ennui knock a lot into focus.

He clicks open the car. “And this’ll force ‘em to call an uber. Worst comes to worst, I’ll drop by later to force them home. I just want to get you home first. No drunk footballers to puke on your feet.”

He rounds around to meet you, opening the door, and waiting patiently.

“Why didn’t you drink?” you ask. You’ve seen him drink before, tipsy in that breezy way where he’s a little flirtier with a little less filter. “You won a game. If you ever deserved it, it’s now.”

“I had to be able to drive you back.” He shrugs, cocking his head in the direction of the open car door. “Speak of the devil,” he starts pointedly, reminding you of your frigidity.

Still contemplating, you climb inside with furrowed brows, following Bucky's figure as he shuts your door, jogs back to his side, and settles into the driver’s seat. Rubbing his hands together, he turns to look at you. 

“You okay?” he asks.

“Uh huh.”

He clicks his tongue. “Look at that. I think you’re a little drunker than I thought.”

“I am not,” you argue, looking down at yourself and seeing nothing wrong until Bucky reaches over to pull your seatbelt over you. “Oh.”

Bucky breathes out a little laugh, amused.

“I'm just…” You contemplate for a second, sinking into the rumbling of the engine when Bucky turns the car on. Immediately, heat slaps your nose. The glass meets your temple bitingly, jolting your sentence back on track. You turn to see Bucky's attention already on you. “Happy.”

“You’re happy?” Bucky repeats pleasantly, shifting the gear into drive.

“Yes. It was a good day today.” 

You feel clearer now, the edges of reality crisper as you look out the window. “I know I already said it, but I'm really proud, Bucky. You win games and ace tests and don’t celebrate with a drink to drive me home. You’re kind of great.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, glancing at you.

You hum an affirmation, inhaling deeply. At some point, Your few-sip buzz dissipated into something different.

Sober, but influenced on the darkness of the sky and the roundness of the moon. It feels safe suddenly, a rush of energy jolting you straight. You stare at Bucky's profile. “Yeah,” you confirm clearly. “It's kind of disappointing, you know.”

Bucky is caught off guard, sparing you a look when he stops at a stoplight. “What?”

“I just thought you’d be different.”

“How?” His brows are furrowed.

You take a moment to ponder. “Not so… you. More of the unforgivably arrogant and ignorant jock variety.”

“So you were expecting me to be one of those cartoon stereotypes?” he teases, looking back at the road with an easier smile.

“Kind of,” you laugh. “But you’re not and that’s really great.”

The red light from outside drapes over his features, pulled as he searches the crevices of your face. In response, it slackens slowly, from thoughtful to a little dazed as you stare back. Without meaning to, you’re leaning in at the same time he is.

His skin flips green.

You fall away from him with a surprised exhale, blinking in confusion.

It takes a second for Bucky to look away after you have, and you consider yourself lucky there’s no one else on the road during the long moment it takes for his attention to switch back to driving.

He doesn’t want to just forget what happened. He doesn’t want to move on from this yet. “What does that mean?” he asks, your compliment playing on repeat in his mind.

You stay silent, trying to figure it out yourself. “I don't… I don’t know.”

He tries to remain unbothered, glancing at you once more to catch your focus unmovingly on him. He pulls into your driveway and turns off the car.

“What about going on a date with me?” he requests, a little more serious that usual but glazed in his usual tone. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he continues.  “I'll dress up in that shade of blue you think I look so good in and we’ll go out to eat at that little hole-in-the-wall restaurant I'm still impressed you found. You’ll order that same thing you always do, and we can talk about that novel you’re reading—”

He doesn’t wait for the answer you’ve given before, stepping out of the car and striding over to your side.

You gaze up at him when he opens your door, your buckle unclasped in your hand. He's kind as he always is as he helps you out, hands settling on your shoulders to steady you when you nearly trip over a ridge in the sidewalk.

“Or… or we could go take a walk around the park. Or go to the movies, or the amusement park, or do laundry or taxes or—anything as long as it’s with you.”

And maybe it’s the easy smile, with the glitter of gold pride still sewn into his lips, or the genuine kindness he’s never failed to show you under the mask of the moon. Maybe it’s the proximity. Maybe you just can’t help yourself anymore. You kiss him.

He’s frozen for a solid moment, thick enough for you to start doubting yourself, beginning to pull away when he finally reacts, practically melting into you as his hands frantically pull you closer.

He pulls away hesitantly, torturously, a second later, eyes scrutinizing. “Wait, wait, wait, are you drunk?”

You shake your head, laughing gently at the thumb that pulls gently at the skin beneath your eye to make sure, urgently tugging you back into the kiss when he’s satisfied.

“‘Had to make sure,” he mumbles against your lips. “This can’t happen when you aren’t you.”

“It’s me,” you promise, pulling back. Before you can delve into your mind too deeply, you nod suddenly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah, okay what?” he repeats, chasing after you to kiss you a few more times.

“I'll go out with you.”

His smile drops, fingers tightening around your hips. “Wait, really?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You grasp his arms tightly. “I should at least try, right?”ey

[buhkybrns]

,,

[johnslittlespoon]

I love your bucky is dog fic so much!!! I reread it all the time it's so heart-warming and funny and just ahhh so good!! refreshing ao3 patiently and excitingly waiting for more<33

(a BIG mix of non–brainrot asks so i don't spam the timeline <33 some of these are from so long ago i'm so sorry. also lil disclaimer at the end about some specific asks i've been getting recently and why i won't be answering them! x)

1) !!?? you REREAD IT?? my heart wtf that's so sweet??? 😭💗 THANK U SM i will do my best to not let u down with future chapters even if shit gets a little bit angstier SDJKG <33

2) LMAO backseat gala–ing from the comfort of a couch 😭 judging the outfits as if they don't show up in plain tuxes half the time <3

3) <3333 thank u omg sjgkdk i'm so happy if my lack of stfu ability brings any bit of joy to anyone LOL

4) ILY THX LEGEND @air-exec u enable me too much <33

5) ALWAYS HAPPY TO INDULGE!! thank u for indulging my constantly rotting brain ur so kind 😭 <333

6) yaurrr i think it's just bc i do Not enjoy being around children LMAO i can't ever get into pregnancy/family dynamic type fics in general, i wish i could tho bc they're so wholesome :') but YEAH exactly ugh. it's like. the action of talking about it, especially when it's unattainable, is so intimate bc it's like an "i love you this much" thing. but it's also so hot bc the possession of it (and possible feminization depending on the pairing) sighhh

also i feel that sooo hard, sometimes you just gotta go where ur writing heart takes u yk? it's hard to write something if ur not fully invested :') and omg stop i WILL cry. 😭💗 wtf. thank YOU!! ofc i would read!! some ideas just /hit/ and urs is one of them <33 but also yes omg it's UP there (if not at the top) on my list of pwps i wanna write once i finish yad(iym) <33 thank you for sharing urs too and sending u good writing vibes regardless of what u write!!

7) GAHH this ones been on my ao3 read later since u sent this ask in!!! i literally have started a doc with links to moots fics i need to read/general fics i've stumbled across that look good and this one is for sure going in it. i do love reading sooo much, i just have the hell combo of adhd and dyslexia but i did start concerta a couple weeks ago which has def made it a bit easier to read lmfao thank fuck.

i think i just get in this headspace where i'm either a reader or a writer when i'm working on smth, idk if anyone else does this? i have a hard time slipping btwn both mindsets, i'm usually locked in on one at a time LOL but i need to get my shit together bc fuck everyone in this fandom writes so damn good and i want to leave long essays on all the fics and hype people up <33 i think once i finish the dog fic i'll take a few days to just consume my reading list to celebrate SJDGK

also omg i can't believe this ask is from before i even posted it that's crazyyy MY BAD. thank u and also that made me giggle JSKDG if that's my legacy in this fandom i'm honestly so happy ab that okay dog coded bucky is everything to me and i will do whatever i can to do him justice <333 and thank u again for the rec!

8) [ X ] UGHHH stop mammal RUINED me. he's soososoo pretty i want to die i think about that barry era as curt in the motaverse so often it makes me sick. i love pretty twinks!! xx (i have a whole motaverse au curtbucky where curt looks like 2012–ish barry and he's ken's age and they're cute lil mechanics together and it's so stupidly elaborate and niche and maybe i'll do smth w it one day who knows)

9) this is very sweet and i do appreciate you respecting my boundaries! thank you <3 i think a lot of people get annoyed at adults asking minors not to interact with nsfw posts on here bc the argument is always "they're gonna look even if you ask them not to" which, yeah, true! i was a teenager growing up online, i sure as hell did not let 18+ warnings stop me ever lmfaoo. i'm not telling minors to stay off my account because ik if people wanna find specific content, they're gonna find it. if teens are learning ab gay sex thru my blog, then at least they're learning ab it from a gay man who tries to keep things realistic in fic and who isn't a creep LOL.

that being said, i more so bar off minors interacting with my nsfw posts/writing bc i personally just feel uncomfortable discussing stuff like that with anyone who isn't an adult, and sometimes i don't have the time to check bios for ages (or sometimes bios don't have ages) before i reply to comments or whatever, so it's just easier to ask that y'all stick to the sfw so i don't accidentally brainrot some cooked shit with a child JSDJKG bc i would feel icky. i hope you understand <3

10) IT MAKES ME SICKKK. not only that, but when i was rewatching it with my irl last week, i realized that in e5 when bucky's smoking in the plane after gale goes down, he's sitting in the right (gale's) seat, which i'm pretty sure he doesn't do at any other time :((( like he was trying to be close to him in anyway he could </3

11) omg i've been meaning to watch that just to get a better inside look at stuff for world building purposes lmaooo but that sounds so wholesome :( i read that a lot of the guys would get real sad/touchy around holidays (obviously), so i could see a oneshot where one of them takes it upon themselves to try and cheer everyone up the best they can under their circumstances. a little found family holiday </33

12) thank u for the rec!! i'm suuuch a slow reader, i'm still working my way thru the actual mota book LOL but i've added this to my reading list <3 i think i might've actually read a couple excerpts from that one in doing research for my fic and it looks really interesting (and heartbreaking) so i'm sure i'll pick up a copy eventually :^)

13) oh 100% agree!! as someone who already isn't super interested in fashion/pop–culture, i find it very hard to look at the men's outfits and be blown away by any of them LOL but the women?? insane. was losing it over lana and zendaya's fits tonight ngl. hunter had me in a chokehold with last year's <3 tangent alright i always say this to my friends but i'm just jealous in general that women have so many more options in terms of clothes like.

okay listen i know i can leave my house in a skirt or crop top or whatever and a lot more guys are def starting to feel comfortable doing so. but i also enjoy not worrying about getting jumped or looked at funny! it's a lot safer than it used to be to do so, even in my small ass conservative town i'll sometimes put on some dangly earrings or a bit of rodrick–liner SJKDG but that doesn't mean it's normalized yet or whatever. point being that i wish it was because men's outfits would be sm more exciting at these fashion events if they had a wider range of options too!

but that aside, absolutely. until that changes, really it's not that hard for the men who are going with women (who don't want to go crazy with their outfits/who are more lowkey like you said) to just. wear something nice and on theme that compliments their partner's outfit and they'll be FINE. anything is better than something boring with no effort; effort doesn't have to equal crazy and fancy and elaborate. like austin's 2022 look has always been a standout to me because it was still a really nice look (even if it was simple) and it also worked so well because of who he had at his side. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ but i also literally don't know shit ab fashion so i rly shouldn't be speaking on it LOL. i just know some things make me go oh no and some make me go YUM

and that's probs the last i'll post about the met bc i rly don't care thaaaat much, i was just happy to see barry since he wasn't at the panel this weekend <3

OKAY THAT WAS SO MUCH I'M SORRY. i just felt really bad bc some of those have been sitting in my inbox for months bc i was waiting to compile them all into a post like this :-) but also one last thing, idk if it's bc of me stepping out of mota to talk ab the emmy stuff/the met this week, but i've had a couple gossip/drama(?) asks and i just wanna say rn that i won't be posting stuff like that, even though they've been worded kindly! one, because i rly only post about fic/brainrot/mota–fandom related stuff here (aside from rare exceptions like today lol). and two, because as much as i adore our boys and try to keep up with the things they're up to, i personally don't vibe with speculating about them (esp if it's in a way that kinda. forgets they are grown men who probably don't think twice ab some of the stuff that people think they do lolol). i have no issue with people who do like to talk ab that stuff, i follow update blogs and think it's totally fine as long as it's done respectfully! i just don't feel like talking about gossip fits the vibe here and frankly i don't care enough about what goes on behind the scenes half the time; i'm just here to create and support and be insane. <33 that's all, just wanted to say that so ppl aren't waiting to have those asks answered/aren't sending more in! x

[autumnrory]

#the funniest thing is if this was any other character id hate them forever until i die but because its steve its so easy for me to dismiss#the whole thing and separate it from Steve Rogers in my head BECAUSE its so wildly out of character#like dont get me wrong it pisses me off probably more than any other decision made in a fictional setting has ever pissed me off and while#this would have made me want fuck all to do with the character had it been anybody else i cant even hate him for it because thats literally#not him. easiest he would not fucking do that😂😂😂 of my life#like its insane how this is actually the single most out of character thing to happen in anything ever and im not even exaggerating#and i dont have to have seen everything ever to know that with certainty i just know it in my heart#steve's love for bucky was the driving force behind his character arc for three consecutive movies you cant just backpedal on that and#expect people to just go with it as if it doesnt go against literally everything thats been established#he disobeyed orders and marched into enemy territory on the off chance that bucky was still alive he was willing to die in that base if it#meant bucky got out safe he picked up the shield for bucky and then gave it up for him TWICE#he was ready to let bucky kill him because he didnt WANT to live in a world without him. like whats not clicking#he turned his back on the team he was leading for bucky without hesitation he was ready to let the whole world condemn him for it he didnt#give a single shit if anybody had a problem with it because bucky was always his priority#bucky was the one person who unconditionally loved steve through everything bucky was his childhood bucky was his family bucky was all he's#ever known and you're telling me. he abandoned his traumatized best friend who literally had nobody else. who he JUST got back. who needed#love and support more than ever after getting his brain fucked to hell and back. and just left him to go live a peaceful life with someone#who a) already had a family b) told him to move the fuck on c) HE BARELY EVEN KNEW. like youre telling me he just sat back and became a#househusband knowing damn well his best friend was being tortured and the world was going to shit around him for 70 fucking years

#like what are you people fucking talking about when you say any of that makes sense for his character. thats not 'giving himself a deserved#break' thats being a shit fucking friend and a piece of shit human being be the realest youve ever been#thats abandoning his morals and betraying his own character#the only reason bucky is even alive at this point is because steve fought tooth and nail for him to be. he wouldnt just leave him to figure#shit out on his own when bucky needs him more than ever. when everything hes done was to keep him safe from harm. when steve himself went#so long without anybody who truly knew and understood him#it doesnt make sense no matter how you want to spin it not even just for their relationship but steve's entire character#like. steve 'never backing down from a fight always doing the right thing fighting for justice' rogers would not fucking do that#i wish theyd blasted him into the sun instead theres literally nothing worse than this#they got me raging four years later at 3am like alright but u gotta get over it#BUT LIKE ITS JSUT LIKE (muffles screams in a paper bag) im okay guys 😁(willblogger)

the funny thing about the steve x bucky ending is that everyone was like “ah boo hoo ur just mad ur stupid little gay ship isn’t canon” as if what steve did wasn’t terrible & shitty through the lens of, you know, friendship 

[johncheols]

ok

[scoonsalicious]

I was an absolute Bucky hater, I have no shame on that! HAHAHAHAH I really really said, no excuse for what he did. I genuinely hate him for fuckinh Jamison.

But I have to say, seeing what happened in chapter 27 makes me quite understand the human aspect of it. Jugular really played on his insecurities and when at his most exposed time, she literally reached for his jugular. She didn’t just manipulate Bucky based on that article with Steve. It was helpful, yes, but without it, she would’ve still gotten into bucky’s head, regardless. I guess, the reason why it kinda gave me a reason to be less infuriated with Bucky is her literally invading their privacy. Yes, Bucky still gave pieces of info, but her snooping around and seeing both Bucky and Pocket’s intimate and vulnerable moments gave her the MOST and ABSOLUTE power over Bucky. She just knew how he works, inside out.

Now also, I am an insecure person. VERY insecure. Hearing this Jackass say everything to hit Bucky, she really hit all the right spots to make him weak. It’s like Ty Lee hitting all the energy points to take away your bending or any movement (yes, avatar reference 😭 I could only hope u know what I’m pertaining to). I would never fuck someone because of it tho. Even on that given situation. But I genuinely SEE the reason, and no it does not justify it but I see how it could be destructive to his decision making. Literally a snake whispering. She was soooo persistent and so sure of what she said that she had Bucky believing it despite wanting not to, and knowing pocket wouldn’t. Again. I still wouldn’t fuck my partner’s worse enemy for it. I would feel disgusted doing it. Like okay, I want revenge but not with u honeyboo. I would rather fuck a stranger than u. But yeah I see how it wasn’t really under hydra control or sex pollen but it is BORDERLINE there due to her manipulations. I still hate him, your honor 🧍‍♀️these past few chapters? Pocket is letting him slide too easily. Yes, poor Bucky but nah. Keep him at bay, sister! (I’m sorry I feel no empathy for people who did what Bucky did, just hit a nerve to me 🥹)

Anw, abt how this absolute Jaundice will die, I hope Bucky tortures her. Emotionally and physically. I hope he doesn’t just put a bullet though her head or snap her neck in an instant. She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves to hear how disgusted Bucky was, how he doesn’t and will never even like her, how she’s nothing but used goods, used by hydra, used by him, then is meant to be dumped like a worthless piece of shit. Do her everything she did Bucky and pocket, put thoughts in her head, and hit her where it hurts the most. Hell if it weren’t for Pocket’s condition I would’ve wished she also used Bucky and fuck right in front of Jails. She deserves every torture. Remove her nails and tooth one by one, scrape her skin slowly, gauge her eyeballs out. Keep her alive and make her wish she was dead. I hope her last vision when she dies is seeing how Bucky loves pocket SOOOOO much.

I am *so* relieved that I could pull off the Russia incident- I was really worried I wasn't going to be able to do it the way I wanted to, and I would doom Bucky to being evil forever, lol. But yeah, I feel like, between his own insecurities, her manipulation, and the access to information that she had, he didn't stand a chance. It doesn't absolve him, and he and Pocket both know this, but it's a mitigating factor.

And I totally don't agree with him hooking up with Pocket's nemesis for revenge, but, in a way, who the hell else was there? Like, dude knows less than 10 women, total, lol. He probably never would have even thought about getting "revenge" if a certain snake hadn't put the thought in his head to begin with (even though we don't see it on page, she absolutely did).

Pocket's realizing she can't live without Bucky, but it's not just going to be a "let's just jump back together" situation. They will take proper time to heal, I promise.

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

thank u for the tag aaa!! these games r so fun

1.) Zuko (Atla): sighhhhh yes I know he’s the heartthrob awkward angst dark haired boy I knowww. but!! I don’t like him for the same reasons you like him!! I like him bc he’s a dork and has a huge heart and an amazing character arcs and is!! just sixteen!! also he’s hopelessly in love with his best friend. like. same dude.

2.) Eda (Toh): she’s a milf, she’s insane, she cares about her kids, she has a dope partner who I’d literally give the world to, she was a pirate that one time, she kicks ass, she’s disabled, etc. etc. easy favourite I love her sm <333

3.)Reki (Sk8 the infinity): my baby boy my love my sunshine he’s sooooo amazing and I adore him. he’s just so excited about his passion?? and felt so distraught and devastated when someone was better than him so quickly even though he put so many years and so much effort into it?? he’s so me it’s not even funny. and he’s an ENFP. samesies. I would give him anything. (and renga is probably my favourite ship across the fandoms.)

4.)Legolas (lotr): sighhhhhh I wish I could say it’s for his character or wit or his sense of duty or his heart of gold or the fact that he shoots a bow and arrow but. I am but a simpleton. I see pretty boy with long blond hair and I fall.

5.) Entrapta (spop): she just like me fr!!! I adore her I adore her mind the fact that she loves science and robots the fact that she’s canonically autistic the fact that she has her own character and struggles and isn’t treated like a joke the fact that. Id literally give her the moon and sun my soul my body my mind.

6.)Remus Lupin (hp): look. we don’t speak of jkr here but!! I am specifically talking about marauders fandom Remus. He’s so important to me he’s a sweetheart he’s a bitch I love him. the fact that he’s imperfect the fact that he’s literally comfort the person the fact that his cure to everything is chocolate. I’d die for him actually. I’m so serious about him in fact.

7.)Bucky Barnes (mcu): he’s my guy forever!! went through hell like 5 times, mr. fucked by the narrative, pretty boy long hair (when he had it rip) dark past hard demeanour huge softie inside? what more could I ask for. he perfect. he amazing. i love he.

8.) Vi (arcane): again. I wish I could say it’s for her complicated past her instinct to protect her loyalty her heart. but…. she’s just… so hot. I’m sorry 😭 she has an UNDERCUT and TATTOOS and PIERCINGS and IS VOICED BY HAILEE STEINFELD. what are you asking me to ignore that?? like no??

9.)Harley Quinn (DCU): she’s insane, she’s a badass, she has a hot wife who makes plants, she’s a people pleaser, she’s a psychologist, she was fucked over so many times, she’s a wildcard. she’s my favourite forever.

10.)Tori Spring (Osemanverse): she’s imperfect, she’s depressed, she has anxiety, she’s lost the will to live, she’s cold, she doesn’t know how to have friends, she doesn’t know how to keep friends, she struggles every day, no one can ‘handle her’, she’s a mess. I love her.

tagging: @ash-and-starlight @electro-strike-zukka-time @please-dont-burn-out @ambriel-angstwitch @autistic-katara @kiki-strike @zukkaturtleduck @zukkaart @ozais-lobotomist @sukiluvvs @strrwbrrryjam <- oops if you’ve already done this/been tagged and only join if you feel like it <33

10 characters | 10 fandoms | 10 tags

This is cool, thanks for the tag @transuncletaylor! I think I just talk about my faves right? I know I’m forgetting some but here goes

Sokka (ATLA) : he’s so funny and interesting and his character is So Deep actually! I love a guy with Secret Issues. Must be relatable I guess.

Mako (LOK) : You’re going to start seeing I have a type. Hot, bad boy vibes, seems reckless but has a huge sense of justice actually. Also I LOVE a mysterious and tragic backstory.

Jim Kirk (Star Trek) : I mean the exact same reasons as above pretty much.

Jack Kelly (Newsies) : same hehe. I just love these guys of questionable sexuality who are like a leader of a found family and would do ANYTHING to protect them.

Marius Pontmercy (Les Miserables) : he’s annoying af and doesn’t get the point of anything going on around him but he knows exactly what he stands for. So relatable. His hyperfixation with Napoleon for entirely stupid reasons? Iconic. What a king. Living through a tragedy too? I’m attracted to that angst like flies on shit.

Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders) : He’s just badass. The best antihero. He says fuck capitalism and then falls victim to it lol. Also he is a GENIUS and loves to fuck people up to protect his family. Also his trauma is delicious to me ofc.

Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher) : Mysterious hero with pain and a family. So yeah.

Roronoa Zoro (One Piece) : I mean pretty much the same as the majority of this list. Tough guy who would die for his captain omfg

Han Solo (Star Wars) : the og baddie, need I say more

Anya Forger (Spy x Family) : listen it creeps ME out too that a little girl is on the list of me, a grown ass man, but she’s SO funny and her cuteness reminds me of like every student I ever had, I can’t help it

ok idk if y’all figured out but I just tag people by typing letters and clicking the first people who show up lol. Anyway if I dont tag you and you wanna do this, go for it. If I tag you and you don’t want to do this, fine.

@ultfreakme @ozais-lobotomist @firenaition @fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma @jovialcloudqueenisnotonfire @kiki-strike @lizardlicks @localgaysian @zukkacore @narrativelysignificantturtleduck

[lizzie-is-here]

like the dawn

part xii- the bed, the mirror, the couch

“show me the most damaged parts of your soul, and i will show you how it still shines like gold” - nikita gill

summary: you give steve and bucky the letters, and receive something much better in return

wordcount: 3.8k

warnings: cussing, light angst, trauma, but yay fluff, brief mentions of racism and homophobia, me completely giving up on writing a realistic court scene

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long 😭 i’ve been busy af but i’m excited to get further into this. also if anyone sent me requests they’ve been mega screwed up so i’m so sorry if i haven’t responded, you can send them again if u want. they literally appear for like two seconds and then disappear and it’s very confusing. anyway as always hope u enjoy and love u all! 🤍🥺

taglist: @whelvedfeelingsstuff @sebsgirl71479 @rebloggingmyrecs @babyblublossom @local-mr-frog @thenyxsky @capsiclesdoll @moonlightreader649 @saranghaey @almosttoopizza @itsivymusic

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Dear Bucky,

You wouldn’t believe how much of a mess we are without you. I haven’t slept and it’s been three days since the train and I still can’t get the image of you falling out of my head. Steve looked away. A part of me wishes I had. I can’t close my eyes without seeing one of my best friends die a cold death.

I’ve tried to write, but my pen can never make it very far before I burn the paper. Hopefully, this one makes it past that stage.

The rest of the Commandos are grieving as well, but they’ve really been the driving force to keep the mission going. We’ve been interrogating Zola for information; I’m guessing he’ll cave any day.

Enough of avoiding the subject. I’ve loved you and Steve since the day I met you on the playground. And I never stopped. Not even now.

It scared me for a long time how far I would go for you two, but losing you scared me more. I would rather kill hundreds than see you slip away inches from my hand. You always said I wasn’t much of a killer, but in the past days… I’ll admit in this letter to you that I’ve dreamt of watching the life leave Arnim Zola’s eyes as I plant an arrow through his chest.

The news won’t mention that you were drafted, or that you had a family, or that you wanted to go into the sciences. I can’t go home to Rebecca and your ma when I can’t bring you with me.

But, God, I loved you. With every atom in my body and every second of my time. And it keeps me going when Steve and I want to break down. Because there’s something in me that says I’ll see you again. As foolish as that hope is, I’ll cling to it until it comes true.

———————————————————————

Dear Steve,

You’re a hero. Just like you wanted to be.

They’ve given you articles and a museum and National Honors, and they’ll remember you until the Sun explodes and glows half as bright as you did.

I hope you’re giving Bucky a hard time. For my sake as well as yours. At least you two are together. Just like I wrote to him, I have to tell you what I wish I’d said.

I’ve loved you two for forever. And now that you’re both gone I don’t know what I’m going to do. Because before I loved you like this, I loved you as my best friends. I could accept never getting married, and never holding your hands like I wanted to. As long as we stuck together.

But being alone is like a void has taken your place. I still wake up and have a moment where I get excited to see you and tell you about the strangest dream I had, and the second I realize you’re not there my world stills.

You were golden. And you always shone brighter than me and Buck. You were golden before you were Captain America and after and now. I wish we could’ve kept you a secret, but you were made to inspire. And I loved you for that and despite that.

I’m the only one left now. I guess, in a way, I’m the end of the line. But it’s coming to an end, and I can’t wait to see you.

———————————————————————

Bucky and Steve set the letters down as you stare at them expectantly. It’s late at night now, and you’re feeling much better than a few hours ago, but the nervousness is still creeping in as you watch their expressions.

“...So?” you ask quietly. This is the hard part. Not knowing if this is good or bad, but either way, it’ll change everything.

Bucky opens his mouth, but chokes back a sniffle before he can form the words. Similarly, Steve steps forward, and wordlessly pulls you into a hug from where you sit on the bed. You lean into him, almost holding your breath as you wait for them to respond.

The former sits next to you, resting his chin on the top of your head.

“I know we’re, what? Sixty, seventy years late? But any chance you still feel that way?” he asks. You nod.

Steve picks up from there. “And what would happen if we said we also feel the same way?”

Your breath hitches and you freeze entirely. When you meet their gazes with a questioning look in your eyes, they nod.

“Doll?” Bucky taps your back. “You alright?”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that.” With some watery laughs, the three of you collapse on the bed, maneuvering into a pile of limbs and wings.

Propping yourself up on your stomach in between them, you flush bright red as Steve begins to lean in. He pauses, inches away as Bucky wraps an arm over you and onto him.

“Can I?” the blond asks. Instead of answering, you close the gap. He smiles into the kiss, pulling away and blushing. “I…” He takes a deep inhale. “I love you, too.”

“Wasn’t that your first kiss, Stevie?” Bucky teases. He rolls his eyes, shoving him lightly in the face. “Well, come here.”

The two stretch past you to kiss, and as forbidden as it would’ve been considered all that time ago, now, it just seems right. When they part, Bucky turns to you, pulling you in with a shaky exhale of “Love you”.

It feels like the stars aligned just for you three. They peek through the clouds as the moon casts a silvery glow on your skin.

“Where do we go from here?” Steve asks.

You hum, giddy beyond belief. “Does it matter? I don’t know, and I honestly don’t know if I care.” You all laugh, burrowing under the blankets and curling in closer than you’d ever dare before.

“As far as I’m concerned, we deserve whatever we want after all that shit,” Bucky mumbles, peppering kisses on the top of your head. Following suit, Steve takes your hand in his, rubbing small circles in your palm. The touch makes your eyes flutter shut, wings twitching as sleep becomes all the more alluring.

“I second that,” you manage, blinking hazily without a care in the world. “I think we’ve earned a break.” Even with everything that happened with HYDRA, all of the harm you caused, you were willing to lay down your troubles for one night of peace.

Steve huffs lightly. “Yeah, like we’re gonna get that. That deal Tony made today? With… Ross.” He says the name with burning contempt. “Was that you two got out in exchange for the trials starting this week.”

After a moment of consideration, Bucky moves on to running his hands through your feathers. “We’ll work through it. However we do it, we’ll do it together.”

A small smile, before you whisper that phrase.

“‘Til the end of the line.”

Two voices whisper it back.

———————————————————————

You wake up from the most restful sleep you’ve ever had as the sun peeks through the curtains.

Did last night actually happen? You glance up to where Steve’s slowly blinking awake. He lazily leans forward to plant a kiss on your forehead, and you chuckle lightly.

“You have the dumbest grin on your face right now,” he whispers. You only grin bigger.

“Wasn’t sure if I dreamt last night,” you say. “It was nice to get some confirmation.”

From the other side of you, Bucky mumbles. “I’d be glad to give you more confirmation.” Rolling your eyes, you oblige, kissing him as well before yanking the blankets up again.

“I don’t mean to jump the gun, but what do we tell the team?” the blond asks, scooting closer than should be possible.

You frown. “Well, is… this… seen as okay?” Queer relationships were more than unacceptable in the 40s, even more so polyamorous ones. Not to mention interracial relationships were condemned as well. This was breaking all of the rules in the book. Damn the book, for all you cared.

“Pretty much. There’s still assholes, but…” Steve trails off, before lighting up. “I forgot to tell you, shit.”

Bucky reaches over, taking his hand with a knowing grin. “Yeah?”

“They legalized gay marriage a little while back,” he hums. You let out a shaky sigh. Seventy years. It took seventy years, but you’ll take it.

You squint as the sun angles into your eyes. Instead of words, you tuck your head into his chest to hide from the light.

“How ‘bout we keep this our secret for now,” Bucky suggests. “We can tell them later, but… I won’t lie and say I’m not enjoying keeping you two to myself.”

You giggle, a light, unfamiliar sound from you, and eye the ex-Sergeant.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound a bit jealous, Barnes.” He shrugs. The sound of shuffling footsteps in the hallway reminds you that, eventually, you have to leave the safe space of Steve’s room.

The three of you begin to roll from the bed, and you extend your wings as you stretch in the morning light. When you turn around, Steve’s watching with a content look on his face. You raise a brow.

“What’re you looking at?” you quip. He doesn’t stop staring.

“Nothing. Just glad I can finally tell you how pretty you look.” You blush bright red and run a hand on the back of your neck.

“Feeling sappy?” you ask. He shrugs.

Tugging on a shirt, he throws you a charming smile. Damn him. “Only for you two, ange [angel].”

“I heard that,” Bucky’s voice calls from the bathroom.

“You’re not the only one who can pull the bilingual pet names, jerk,” Steve calls back. You laugh at the exchange, stepping into a low-back tank top.

“Alright, play nice,” you chide. “Let’s go downstairs before they start getting worried.”

Making your way to the kitchen ends up going far too fast, and you reluctantly part hands as you greet the team.

Nat and Wanda are the only ones who notice that something's up. They exchange a glance, but say nothing as the three of you cast lovesick stares at one another.

“Ah, the Three Musketeers finally got out of bed?” Tony asks. He grins, pointing to the counter. “Scott made waffles.”

“They’re surprisingly good,” Clint confirms, causing the Ant-Man to frown.

Tony pauses. “The trial starts today. This afternoon.”

You, Steve, and Bucky glance at each other.

“Isn’t that sooner than we expected?” the blond asks.

Stark sighs, massaging his temples. “Yes, but Ross isn’t wasting any time. We gotta go with the deal.”

You nod.

“My lawyers are the best in the country, but this isn’t gonna be easy.” The billionaire seems almost worried for you. “Just… you’re gonna have to talk about what happened.”

“In HYDRA.”

Your mind is more than happy to provide dozens of memories. Experiments and needles, cold cells, and even colder food. Agents grabbing at you and dragging you away from Bucky, or the Winter Soldier, to be more accurate.

The deaths you caused. The innocent civilians that were in the wrong place at the wrong time. It didn’t matter to you who you killed. Just that you stayed an anonymous killer.

“(Y/N).” You hum, not really acknowledging the call of your name.

What would you have done if all of you had survived? You probably would’ve lived a happy life, eventually confessed to your boys, and died with the biggest secret of your lives buried where the historians would never find it.

But Steve wouldn’t have the permanent worry line etched between his brows, Bucky wouldn’t have the countless scars surrounding his metal arm, and you…

Your wings feel heavier than usual. So do your hands.

“(Y/N)!” When you snap back to the present, the lights are unusually bright.

“Shit,” you mumble, reeling in your powers before you explode a bulb. “Sorry, fuck, I’m sorry.”

Your boys are next to you in a heartbeat. “You’re alright, we just need to ease into… thinking about it,” Bucky mutters. “It’ll provide the evidence we need, though.”

Steve nods. “This is our best chance to get the public back on our side after the whole deal in Germany, too.”

It was no secret that the public opinion on the Avengers had been tainted after their little “Civil War”, as the press called it. Some sided with Steve, others with Tony, and some just thought the whole mess was stupid.

The genius claps. “Well, let’s suit up.”

———————————————————————

Suiting up ended up meaning pulling on a custom-tailored dress shirt, blazer, and pants. When you questioned where the clothes came from, Steve confessed that he’d told Tony about your preference for pants.

Not that you were complaining. The suit fit perfectly, and the gold buttons were a nice touch. Bucky tugged on gloves, successfully concealing his metal arm. But there was nothing to hide your wings.

You frown in the mirror. They loom, like some dark reminder of what you’d done. They’d be the focus of the public. You know they will be.

Carefully running your hand along one wing, you pick at the tips of the feather.

Bucky steps into view in the mirror, turning you away from it and extending a hand, before jerking it back. You take his left hand anyway, giving it a light squeeze that he can’t really feel but means the world to him despite that.

“You ready?” he asks. You shrug.

“Not like we’ve got any other options.” He hums. “I’m done running.”

Steve finishes tying his tie and joins you two, checking his new watch with a heavy sigh. “We’ve got ten minutes until we go.” He takes your hands. “Will you guys be okay?”

You nod. You’ll make it through alright. Even if it sucks.

“I wish there was a way to hide my wings,” you whisper, reluctant to even admit it.

They both shake their heads, and Bucky leans into you. “They’re gorgeous, doll. Remind me of that one bird we saw downtown the other day.”

You pause, considering the statement. “James, did you just compare me to a pigeon?”

“A very pretty pigeon,” he adds, eyes closed contentedly.

Steve chuckles. “The prettiest.”

After a while, you part, hurrying down to the garage and stepping into the most high-tech bus you’ve ever seen. It’s spacious enough that your wings don’t hit anyone in the face as you climb in, and the tinted windows provide some privacy.

Everyone’s dressed to the nines, even Peter, who’s just going as a representative of his secret identity. Yet despite the pressed shirts and gold jewelry, no one’s very talkative.

It’s a quiet and nervous bus ride into Manhatten, but the silence is broken by Tony as the bus slows to a stop in front of the courthouse.

“Alright, folks. Remember: no talking to the press, no shit-talking. Let my team do their job and get us out of this mess with our heads,” he says, checking a screen projected from his watch. “Go break some eggs.”

You, Steve, and Bucky step out first, and the paparazzi roar to life. People push against the barrier gates and police holding them back, some screaming obscenities and others casting pitying looks as you pass.

But you keep your head level, taking Steve’s hand as Bucky does the same, and ascend the steps into the building.

A woman is waiting as the team filters in and guides you down winding hallways to a set of grand doors. The men guarding the entrance open them for you, revealing the largest courtroom you’ve ever laid eyes on.

She leads you to a bench at the front with the lower panel of the back taken out to accommodate your wings. There, you, Bucky, Steve, and Tony sit. The rest of the group sits behind you. The latter’s lawyers arrive soon after, taking their places and speaking in hushed tones.

They come over to you all, asking questions that they note down your answers to, comparing them to their files, and thanking you for your cooperation. They hurry away just as quickly when Ross and his ensemble arrive, taking their own seats.

Then follows the judge, jury, and dozens of men and women carrying cameras and notepads. Cameras flash and you can’t help but wonder what’s so interesting that they need 50 identical pictures of.

Once the judge announces the court to be in session, everything begins to fly by. They ask you to swear your honesty and you do, ignoring the clicks and flashes coming from behind you.

You don’t understand much of the terminology the lawyers toss around, or why Ross keeps insisting on calling people to the stand. Whoever they are, you’re really hoping they weren’t a previous target of HYDRA.

A part of you knows they won’t be any of your targets. You killed all of them without fail. No mistakes, no witnesses.

You sit patiently, trying your best not to look nervous as your heart sinks with every nod Ross receives. Eventually, a break comes, and Tony’s team gives you an overview of what’s happening now.

This was the first of a handful of trials. The next one, two days from now, will require for you and Bucky to testify separately about your time in HYDRA.

They say they need detail. And complete transparency.

Both of you agree. Even if it sends waves of nausea through your body.

After the break, the judge announces that the trial will proceed on the set date and dismisses you all. You pass Ross as the team leaves, and he casts a dirty look at you.

You say nothing, just move on.

The crowd has grown since you got here, and are now trying even harder to pass the barriers. One man with an American flag attempts to jump the gate, but is stopped before he can get too close.

Nonetheless, you flinch away as he screams and spits, wings twitching nervously. Your voice is caught in your throat. You couldn’t respond to the journalists even if you wanted to.

You squeeze back on the bus, ignoring the shouting that grows louder just outside. They all want answers to invasive, prying questions that you honestly can’t answer. You don’t know what kind of funding HYDRA received, or what economic declines you were responsible for.

All you know is who you hurt and how you did it. Nothing else mattered to you when you were like that.

Taking Bucky’s hand without anyone else noticing, you lean your head on Steve’s shoulder as you close your eyes. You don’t want to sleep, no. Just take a moment and block out everything else.

Your boys follow suit. Bucky leans against you and Steve rests his head on top of yours. Not the most comfortable position, but definitely the most comforting.

Meanwhile, Nat nudges Wanda. While, sure, your closeness could just be platonic, she knows better. The way your wings have finally relaxed and slumped over the low back of the seat, How Barnes is finally letting some of that tension out of his shoulders.

“Are you picking up anything?” She waves a finger at the three of you. The younger girl shakes her head.

“No,” she whispers, tilting her head. “But they seem more… content. Not dancing around each other.”

The redhead gives her signature “you’re not wrong” head nod before grinning. “You think they finally told each other?”

Wanda’s small grin tells it all. “The other night, their thoughts were all over the place.” No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t avoid hearing some louder thoughts. “Then they went calm, and it was just… happy,” she sighs wistfully.

“You know, if you just talk to Vision-” She cuts off the assassin, shushing her as the android remains oblivious.

You don’t notice the girls either, simply nodding off until the bus finally pulls into the compound. As the three of you emerge from the bus, you glance at the time. 7:26. Not nearly late enough to make poor excuses to run off to bed. AKA, you won’t be getting alone time soon enough.

Especially when Peter starts begging for a team movie night. And who are you to deny him? He seems so excited to organize it, sending certain groups to fetch pillows, make food, or pick some movie options.

Once sufficient snacks and blankets are acquired, you sprawl onto a loveseat stomach-first, tossing your feet and legs across Steve’s lap as Bucky takes the floor between you.

One of your wings droops, grazing the floor, while the other folds atop your back to avoid getting squished by the cushions.

Your boys begin to preen the stray feathers, careful not to pinch the skin as they work.

The movie starts, something that Peter calls Star Wars and immediately begins rambling about. You try to pay attention, you really do, but Bucky hits a specific spot on your wings and suddenly you’re zoning out and growing more tired by the second.

You figure the constant fatigue that follows you is a side effect of years of sleep followed by weeks of work. Not that you consider that now.

Your mind is basically putty as your boys work, the movie playing along in the background as you hum to approve or veto where they scratch.

Some high-pitched beeps come from the movie, and you try to focus on the small robot-thing that spins around. Your attention slips far too easily, though, right back to the way Steve’s moved on to scratching the spot in between your wings and is slowly working his way to the small of your back.

You hum, satisfied.

“Oh, so you let them mess with your wings?” Sam jokes, throwing popcorn at Bucky, who smacks it away mid-air.

He huffs. “You’d probably yank out a feather on accident, idiot.”

The man rolls his eyes with a smile. “I know they’re extra sensitive, but they look soft as hell.”

Sitting up a bit and stretching, you shrug. Extending one wing out, you gesture to it.

“You can feel it, just don’t make it a regular thing,” you smile. Sam grins, joking nature cooling as he achieves his goal. To push your comfort zone just the slightest. Sometimes you forget just how smart he is.

He still gawks when his hand makes contact with the downy feathers, flopping back on the couch in disbelief.

“Not fair,” he mutters. “You’ve got a goddamn portable blanket.”

Peter shushes him, groaning about how he’s gonna miss his favorite part of the movie. You all oblige, quieting down as you return to your spot.

Steve leans to whisper in your ear. “You did good.”

“What?”

“A month ago, you wouldn’t even have thought about letting anyone near your wings. Now?” He tilts his head pointedly. “Plus, Buck’s getting more comfortable not hiding his metal arm.” At the nickname, Bucky looks up to you two and joins you on the cramped loveseat.

“I’m just saying, I’m proud of you two.”

The praise melts you. And as the movie continues and popcorn gets thrown, you can’t help but be proud of yourself, too.

[imposterogers]

Ok i know "if one of them was a woman" is an old argument BUT. The scene in which stevebucky hug goodbye in EG and then it focuses on bucky's facial expression? If steve was leaving his female best friend behind and she reacted this way and made that face, the audience would probably be SUPPOSED TO read it as her being in love with steve, him never knowing this, and her letting him go (back) to another woman. Like it would be an open secret, some sort of tragedy or sth to the audience. Truly makes me feel ill thinking about it

what's interesting to me is the entire steve bucky dynamic is built on traditionally romantic tropes

-in cafta, steve is the "damsel in distress" who bucky protects. bucky, the soldier dragged away to war, is also insistent that his "sweetheart" steve stays safe on the homefront

-when bucky is captured, their roles switch and he becomes the "damsel in distress". when he dies, steve swears to avenge his death while crying and drinking in the last bar they were at together

-in catws, steve meets a new "interest" (sam) after getting over heartbreak (bucky) just for the old love "interest" to come back from the dead. and of course the age old amnesia trope!

-its been a long, long time is a STEVEBUCKY song and it played right before steve and the winter soldier first crossed paths

-"til the end of the line"//"til death do us part" (plus the whole for better or for worse, when steve essentially says he'd rather die than hurt bucky anymore)

-TRUE LOVE CONQUERS ALL? bc steve's voice/face saying til the end of the line very literally broke through 70 years of brainwashing. which. that's a lot to unpack

-the trope where u lose ur love right after you get them back (bucky dusting away in wakanda)

-so that final scene really can be interpreted romantically, with bucky loving steve enough to let him go no matter how much it hurt