#firsteveroneshot

[absideon-ephemeral]

Dog Tags | Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x (fem) reader

Summary: there is something about Bucky’s dog tags that drove both of you crazy.

A/N: SET AFTER THE SHOW THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER. I have a head cannon that Bucky ended up moving to Louisiana and buying a house close to Sarah.

Warnings: (hopefully) tooth rotting fluff, mild language, Reader described as having boobs, suggestive themes, illness, idk what I missed so read at your own advisory I guess.

There was something about them.

Those fucking dog tags.

He wore them every moment of every day: didn’t even take them off to shower or sleep.

They were just pieces of metal (although they had special value to him) so you couldn’t figure out why it drove you crazy whenever you caught a glimpse of them.

I was a good kind of crazy though. One that would make you go feral for him. You never voiced this to your beautiful lover, but he knew. Oh, he knew.

After finding out about your obsession from Sam a little birdie, he would make any excuse to show them off. In the shower, working out, cuddling? Bucky did it all. (His favorite was seeing them dangle and slap your face while he has you folded in half).

But his ultimate favorite ended up happening on a quiet Sunday morning. . .

———————————————————————

It was early. Early enough to just begin to hear the birds chirp and see the sun start to rise. Bucky unlocked your shared front door and crept inside as quietly as possible.

For the past week, he had been away on some diplomatic mission to tie up loose ends left from the Flagsmashers. His week was crammed full of press conferences, meetings, and the occasional man hunt for a left-over Smasher. And for the past week, his stress has been through the roof.

It all started when he had managed to forget his dogs tags on the bathroom counter the morning he left. For the rest of the week, an unsettling weightlessness sat on his chest and the absence of the familiar, cool metal was strange. The tags brought him comfort: it kept him grounded and reminded him of who he is. On rough days, they acted as a form of emotional support - reminding him that he is James Buchanan Barnes and not him. Without them, a strange hollowness followed him everywhere.

And to make matters worse, you ended up falling sick with something close to pneumonia the day after he left. He was helpless and couldn’t do anything more than call and pester Sarah to check on you.

So he felt empty and stressed, but now he was home and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with you.

As quietly as possible, Bucky set down his bag and toed off his mud-crusted boots, making his way to the kitchen after. He tried (keyword, tried) to quietly recreate his mom’s famous chicken noodle soup for you, but it was a bit hard when his metal arm ‘clinked’ against the pot and bowl.

Once he was satisfied with the meal he prepared, he grabbed a glass of water and made his way to your shared bedroom.

Nudging the door open, he was greeted with the sight of your sleeping form sprawled out on the bed. Setting the soup and water on the bedside table, he sat on the edge of the bed to silently admire you.

There you lay, hair a messy halo on the pillow and small snores accompanying each breath. He took note that you were wearing his old red shirt with the words “can you give me a hand?” written across it (Sam had given it to him during a visit to Wakanda when he was an armless mess). But the thing he noticed most was the harsh rasp and rattle of your lungs with each breath. A frown fell upon his face as he decided wether or not to wake you up. On one hand, he wanted you to enjoy your, seemingly peaceful, sleep; but on the other, he knew that you needed to clear your lungs before you suffocated on mucus.

The thought of you not suffocating won over and he gently shook you awake. It took a couple shakes and the quiet repetition of your name to elicit a groan from you. From there, he began to gently coax you further into awareness.

“Come on doll, I’m finally home and want to see those pretty eyes. I need you to get up, hon.” He spoke softly.

Slowly but surely, your eyes opened and you had to blink a few times to clear them. Upon seeing the beautiful face of your lover you shot up, despite the protest of your sluggish body, and threw your arms around his neck.

“I missed you so much.” Your voice was hoarse from coughing and sounded so frail.

“I missed you too, darling. I know you��re probably still tired, but how about we take a nice, warm shower together, hm? That way we can both be clean and we can loosen up that gunk in your lungs.”

You simply nodded, too tired and on the brink of falling asleep against him. He wrapped you up in his arms and carried out of bed and to the bathroom. Once inside, he set you down on the toilet and turned on the shower all the way to hot. He stripped himself bare, save for his boxers, and then began to help you.

Kneeling in front of you, he placed his hands on your waistband, a silent ask of permission. You lifted your hips just enough for him to slide your shorts off. The shirt came next. But it’s what was under it that caught him off guard.

It wasn’t the fact that you weren’t wearing a bra, no, he was used to that.

But it was the fact that you were wearing his dog tags.

His dog tags.

The ones he left behind and had felt their absence all week.

Sitting so prettily between your breasts, shining and slick with condensation.

For a minute his brain short circuited - snapping into a daze as the bathroom began to fill with hot, thick steam. But it was your voice that brought him back.

“Bucky?” The small call was followed by a series of coughs that racked your whole body.

He immediately sprang into action, rubbing your back and pushing your damp hair away from your face. Reassuring words spilled out of his mouth like a poem; guiding you through it and reminding you to try and breathe. By the time the coughing subsided and you could breathe again, your chest hurt and your lungs were so tired. Bucky could see your exhaust and it pained him to see you so tired.

“Whats on your mind?” The question caught him off guard.

“Nothing hun. Just thinking about how pretty you look wearing my tags.”

A small grin broke out on your face, “you like when I wear ‘em?”

His eyes met yours. “Honey, I absolutely fucking love it.”

A raspy chuckle escaped you. “Good. Cause I want to wear them if that’s okay with you. Especially when you’re not here. It’s like I have you right beside me no matter what.”

Bucky smiled and stood up, stripping you and himself of the remaining clothes and guiding you off the toilet and to the shower. “Doll, you can wear them whenever you want. You can wear them forever if that’s what it takes to make you always feel safe and loved,” he stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water to hit him first, “but I will always be by your side. With or without those tags.”

A small smirk crept upon his face as you fully joined him in the shower.

“You don’t know the things you do to me wearing my tags. Actually, I want you to wear them every day. That way, everyone will know you’re mine.”

———————————————————————

And he kept true to his word. Everyday, he would place those tags around your neck, making sure they fell just right on your chest. More often than not it ended up with him bending you over the bathroom counter and watching in the mirror as his tags slapped against your tits. And he made sure you always had them when he was away as well. No longer had he felt anxious or empty without them for he knew that they were always beside your heart.

So, it’s safe to say, that his favorite way of seeing his dog tags, was on you.

[mxrchingclocks]

I Remember - Peterick

ONESHOT This is all in Pete's Point of view, this idea has been used alot but it is my favorite idea for some reason.. so. Uhh, enjoy? I'm sorry. Summary: Pete remembers Patrick. Tags: #Fob #Peterick #Panic! ------ I remember the time when we first met. The time we had a tickle fight. The time I broke my arm, I forgave you easily because I love you. I just couldn't tell you. I remember when you had problems, you turn to me for help. You told me that I'm your hero. I remember when the girl you asked to prom didn't came. I danced with you. I remember meeting Joe and Andy, Fob was borned. I remember confessing to you during tour. It was a pretty messed up day, don't you think? I remember cuddling with you, kissing you, playing with you. I remember you singing to me to help me sleep. You still have an angelic voice, Patrick. I remember smiles. I remember laughs. I remember telling you how much you matter to me. When you told me everything was going downhill for you. I tried so hard to act as your hero that time. But I couldn't act as your hero today. I acted as your villain. I remember the night, the fight, the screaming, saying how much we hated eachother. I remember sleeping in seperate rooms. I remember seeing you pass by me. I remember you packing your bags. I remember tears. I remember slamming a door. I remember sleeping alone. I remember when our friends asked me how I'm doing. I locked myself, I completely shutdown. I'm sorry I couldn't act as your hero that time. I remember planning onto proposing. I remember slamming a door on Brendon, he got so worried he practically broke the door banging on it. I remember Patrick Martin Stump. I remember you. I remember loving you. And I miss you. If this will be the last time I'll ever get to say this.. If I won't get the chance to do it all again To change my mistakes, Then this is it. Patrick Martin Stump, will you marry me? Sending.. Message Sent. -------------