#jamesmorita

[lullabiestoparalyze]

THE BLOGGER

laura. adult. she/they. white. mpls.

disabled. biromantic ace. possibly agender? idk man, it's hard to tell most days

other urls: un-reborn, bbarnes, ybelova, jcuster, klausshargreeves, dodgecaravaggio, jamesmorita, wintersasset. aka raernundo and noearthjustsky on my previous account.

BEFORE YOU FOLLOW

if you follow me, please be 100% sure you are comfortable interacting with an adult

i don’t have a strict rule about who follows me as i think everybody benefits from having friends of different demographics. with that said,

please feel free to tell me to go away if i’ve followed you or interacted with your post and you aren’t comfortable with that

i have no tolerance for maladjusted assholes. racists/white supremacists, homophobes, transphobes, terfs, swerfs, exclusionists, ableists, radfems, republicans, etc. do not belong here.

[greedismyservant]

character moodboards: sharon carter for @jamesmorita

you picked the wrong side, agent. depends on where you’re standing.

[undindjarin-archive]

Promise that we’ll stay

pairing: bucky barnes/steve rogers [established relationship]

summary: Nightmares tend to form around and follow Steven Grant Rogers more than he likes to admit. Despite being the strong, independent leader, and inspiring golden boy, he tends to keep his nightmares below the surface, so no one else need suffer with him.

word count: 5k

warnings: depression, death mention?

requested by anon, who asked: “ We can’t keep this up forever. ” + “ Don’t die on me– Please. ” (x)

Nightmare; a frightening or unpleasant dream; a terrifying or very unpleasant experience or prospect; a person, thing, or situation that is very difficult to deal with.

Nightmares tend to form around and follow Steven Grant Rogers more than he likes to admit. Despite being the strong, independent leader, and inspiring golden boy, he tends to keep his nightmares below the surface, so no one else need suffer with him.

After having thought he had lost Bucky permanently, Steve had suffered from countless nightmares, born from guilt, regret, and hopelessness.

Having suffered through that and having sacrificed himself for his country, to not have to live in a world without Bucky, waking up had been a nightmare no one had asked if he wanted to be there.

Bucky was also a plaguing nightmare for Steve. Not Bucky himself, but the unrelenting heaviness that shackled around Steve’s heart and has only grown to over shadow the light.

Despite having Bucky back, it was a reminder that Steve hadn’t gone back to save him, that he let him fall, that he let Hydra use him as a weapon, that he gave up on him.

Nightmares have been thought of only coming out at night, but even they can thrive in the light and overpower it.

It wasn’t all that hard for Bucky to finally realize that something was bothering Steve, and by the time he’d found the courage to ask, not wanting him to shoulder that weight alone, he’d only gotten a tired smile that didn’t reach his eyes and a flimsy lie of, “I’m fine, Buck.”

That’s why Bucky gathered only the people he trusted most: Natasha, Clint, and even Sam.

Sitting at the table in their kitchen, Bucky let out a soft sigh as Clint brought each of them a cup of coffee. It was nearing 3 in the morning, and Steve was sure to be asleep. Bucky had only left him less than an hour ago, not having been able to sleep anyways.

“Alright, so let’s start from the beginning. When did you start to notice Steve’s different behavior?” Leave it to Sam to keep it serious. Despite their differences, Bucky’s never been happier to have met a guy like Sam. Especially since he knows he cares for Steve just as much as he does.

“A few weeks ago, nothing overly alarming, but… that stubborn punk isn’t one to open up when it comes to what's bothering him. He thinks he needs to bare the weight of the world on his shoulders, just so no one else has to suffer.” Bucky huffs as he gazes into the forgiving mug in his hands. Just like him, everything in their apartment seems to agree that something about Steve has been off.

Feeling a hand on his shoulder, an affectionate squeeze causing him to look up, he gets a soft look from Natasha. Letting out a soft breath, he looks back to Sam, watching the gears turn in his head. “Well, we all know Steve well enough by now to know he’s literally an ass when it comes to opening up. What makes this any more different than just something minor that’s bugging him?”

Taking in Sam’s words, reflecting upon the past week alone, a hard look sets on his face as he shakes his head. “No, he can be moody, but he usually speaks his mind eventually. He keeps brushing this off, avoiding everyone whenever possible, closing in on himself.”

Bucky had been searching the tower for over an hour now, their apartment, the shared floor where all the avengers meet, the gym, the pool, anywhere he thought Steve might be. However, by the time he had the sense to go to the fucking roof and searching over the city from the top, the sun was already setting, casting out the light and letting in the dark.

A grin pulling up on his lips at the sight of Steve and his sketch pad on the edge, he lets out a soft chuckle as he heads over to join him. “You sonofabitch. I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I-” The sentence dying in his throat as he approaches Steve, watching as the ground around him is littered in broken pencils, the blank piece of paper  having one, solid black mark from where he still has yet to draw anything.

Grin fading, replaced with concern as he squats down next to Steve, he places a hand on his shoulder, jolting Steve out of his trance like state. “Hey Buck. Sorry, didn’t realize it was getting so late. Come on, we can head back in.” Already rising and turning back without another glance, Bucky’s concern only grows as he watches him go. Climbing back to his feet, going to follow him, he stops as one piece of crumpled paper blows in the breeze. Lifting it and treating it as if it would break into a million pieces, Bucky unfolds it feels his heart sink in his chest as he gazes at it. It wasn’t anything dark, or that concerning of a drawing. What was concerning, was that it was blank, all except the phrase: ‘till the end of the line.

Tears burning his eyes at the memory, Bucky forces them back as he stares Sam straight in the eye, two blue fires burning fiercely in his own. “No, I don’t know what it is. But it’s something more than… than just nothing.” Bucky knows how pathetic that sounded, but how else could he phrase it?

Watching as Sam nods and goes on to ask a few more questions, Bucky zones out as he glances back down the hall, only wishing he could help Steve. In any way possible. Letting Natasha, Clint, and Sam continue to evaluate and discuss Steve’s recent behavior, Bucky gazes back into the welcoming coffee mug once more, only dredging up more incidents like the one that had happened early that week.

Bucky could understand needing space. To heal and grow on your own. Hell, Steve had been so patient with him, even a bit overbearing at sometimes, but he knew it was because he cared. Bucky could respect that Steve needed time to himself.

What Bucky wouldn’t take, is having Steve beat up on himself and not accepting any help at all, without telling anyone what the hell was going on. It had been two weeks already and Steve had only kept the problem to himself, kept looking at Bucky with eyes full of guilt one too many times that Bucky had had enough.

Finding him sparing with Nat in the gym, he watches as the two of them finish up, Nat bringing Steve to his knees and only letting up when he tapped the mat until she did. Sharing a glance with Bucky, he could tell he wasn’t the only one who was noticing the difference in Steve.

“Don’t get soft on me, Rogers, I expect a rematch later.” With those as her final words, not expecting a comment, nor receiving one, she pats Bucky on the shoulder as she leaves the two of them alone.

Approaching Steve as he towels the sweat out of his hair, he gently kicks his boot with his own. “Stevie…” Watching as Steve already began to stiffen, closing himself off, and preparing to get defensive with annoyance, a light frown over shadowed Bucky’s expression. “Not now, Buck.” Earning nothing more than the curt answer, watching as Steve rises and starts to stalk off, Bucky growls low in his throat as he turns after him and grabs hold of his arm.

“Hey, no. You don’t get to do that.” A scoff in reply, yanking his arm free, Steve doesn’t even glance back as he continues out. Leaving Bucky’s own annoyance and frustration growing.

Jogging after him and blocking his path, Bucky glares down Steve, holding his arms out like a child would to keep an adult from ignoring them and moving on. “No. Steve, I respect that you need to do some things yourself, but you don’t get to shut me out completely. What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t have to do this alone. Let me help.”

Watching as the fire staring back at him turns to ice, he can already sense the venom Steve’s reply is laced with. “I don’t need your help Bucky. Just… leave me alone.” Shouldering his way past, Bucky lets Steve go. And with him, a shadow looms in the space he used to be.

Taking in a deep breath, Bucky lets it out slowly, turning back in his chair to face the others. He hasn’t even taken a sip out of his cup, and doesn’t plan to as he sets it back down and rises from the table. Letting him go, the other three watch as he heads out onto the balcony, not saying another word to any of them. “Are we sure that Bucky’s okay too?” Clint murmurs, before earning glares from the other two at the table. Throwing his hands up, sloshing coffee out his cup, he groans as it goes to waste. “I’m just asking, don’t kill me yet…”

Stepping out into the fresh air, running his hands through his hair, Bucky lets out a heavy sigh as he leans against the railing. “Goddamn punk… You don’t have to be alone…” barely comes out as a murmur, if the wind was blowing any harder, it wouldn’t have been heard at all. Staring out over the bright city lights, still shining even in the face of the overwhelming darkness, threatening to overcome the night.

Hiding his face in his hands, Bucky groans softly as exhaustion hits him hard. “You’re too big of a star to burn out Steve, you’re my whole sun.” Realizing that he’s talking to no one but himself, even if he wishes the words would fall upon unrelenting ears, he falls into silence. Taking a moment to get lost in the dark, because if that’s where Steve was heading, Bucky wouldn’t let him do it alone.

There were days that Bucky just had that gut feeling that Steve had gotten into another fight. Especially when he’d just gotten off from work at the docks and was heading home, he knew that Steve just couldn’t stop himself from stepping up to help some poor soul from being picked on.

Don’t get him wrong, it was one of the things Bucky loved most about the guy, but… it wasn’t fair to have to worry about his guy being beat up on all the time. To worry that one day the cruel and unforgiving world would snuff the flame out of the light of Bucky’s life.

Checking most of Steve’s haunts, finding no sign of the little, blonde headed punk, Bucky’s nerves were only growing in the pit of his stomach. That’s until he’d passed the alleyway behind Steve’s old place. Watching as he was being kicked back down, the two assailants making sure he stayed down as they pounded on him, Bucky’s heart was being torn in two with the fear of today being the day he feared most.

“Hey! Assholes! If you’re pickin’ a fight with him, you’re pickin’ a fight with me!”

Watching as the two guys paused in their torment to gaze back at Bucky, sizing him up and planning to do just that, one turns back to the bruised and bloodied Steve on the ground as he reaches out and grabs ahold of their pant leg. “Fuckin’ hell you will… leave’im alone…”

Anger burning hot in Bucky’s bones, he can’t believe the selflessness Steve possesses. Stepping forward to finish the fight, clearly a bit bigger than the two guys beating up on Steve, they turn to face him before one ends up on his ass, and the other one scrambling to leave the alley as Bucky lands a punch to a nose and kicks the other one on his way out.

Cleary a bully doesn’t find a fight fair if the victim starts fighting back, as long as that victim’s bigger than they are. Scoffing as he watches them leave, he turns back to Steve and helps him to his feet. “Pal, you’ve gotta stop doing this. You’re gonna be the end of me one day…”

Only earning a chuckle for his worry, Steve glances up at Bucky, two shining seas brightening his world as a slight grin pulls up on his lips. “No worries, Buck. I’ll never let you down… can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Groaning at that, Bucky takes Steve home, patches him up and can only imagine how many fights he’ll get into in the future.

---

Steve Rogers may be stubborn, hot headed, a punk, even a pain in the ass. But he knows when his friends care, and the last thing he wants to do is burden them.

Hell, the moment Bucky had placed a soft kiss to his forehead and snuck out of their room, Steve was awake, hearing his friends worrying over him from down the hall. Not that he’d let them know that, especially if they already were pressing so hard to help.

Groaning softly to himself, rubbing his face before flopping his arms down to his sides, nothing but the darkness of the room keeping him company. Even the sliver of light peeking in through under the door do nothing to dampen the dark. Or improve Steve’s mood.

He knew it wasn’t fair, to snap at his friends, especially to Bucky, which if their roles were reversed, Steve would be just as concerned. He didn’t mean to be a hypocrite. However, the instincts to defend himself had never gone away, he could take care of himself just fine by himself. He didn’t need anyone’s help, he could get by on his own.

“The thing is, you don’t have to… I’m with you ‘til the end of the line pal.”

God, he knew that would always be true, Bucky had always been by his side. But how could he tell him it was his fault? That after all these years it had been Steve’s fault that all the trauma, dehumanization, and what made Bucky, Bucky was his fault that it was gone?

Everyone had told him it wasn’t his fault. Hell, even Peggy had asked him at that bombed out bar after it had happened… But it was all lies. He had read the report, he had let his best friend, his best pal, fall to his death. Or what he had thought was his death.

Taking in a deep breath, rubbing his face, he gritted his teeth together as he fought to hold back all the emotions that were fighting to win over once. The guilt. The heartbreak. The sadness. The want to be fine. The want to let his friends help.

Rolling onto his side, squeezing his eyes closed and trying to force those thoughts out, he waited for sleep to take him once more. He could handle this on his own. He’s been through worse alone before, he can do it again.

Hell, it wasn’t long before he was drifting back off to sleep, surrounded by darkness, nightmares trapping him in their grip. He could still hear Bucky’s screams as he fell, watching him fall until he was out of sight, reaching out to grasp nothing but air.

Steve knew he had a mission to complete, hell, he knew his men knew they had a mission to complete, beyond capturing Zola. However, he wouldn’t rest until he found Bucky, he wouldn’t let his best pal go just like that, without commemorating him.

Tracking through the snow, darkness falling upon the barren wasteland, Steve wasn’t going to stop until he found a trace of Bucky, disregarding the thoughts and concerns of the rest of his team. Well, not completely, but he wasn’t just going to abandon his best friend. Not like this.

Snow drifting down from the darkening clouds in the sky, coming down harder the longer they remained out there, the other howling commandos followed after their captain, concern written all over their faces.

There was nothing more anyone wanted than find Barnes alive and help him, but they knew the odds of that were slim. They had all gotten to know Barnes on a personal level, and when Captain America had come to their rescue, they weren’t fooled into believing that he had shown up to save them specifically.

No, they were aware of the bond between the captain and their sergeant, no matter how hard either of them tried to brush it off.

They were all going to grieve for Barnes in their own way, but none of them had the heart to dash Steve’s hopes, of leaving him with heartbreak and the guilt of what had happened.

That’s mostly why they had all agreed to follow after Steve in hopes of finding Barnes in the snow. However, after the past three hours of searching, and the subsequent six before that, their flames of hope were being dashed out by the encroaching darkness and the howling winds.

Sharing a look with Falsworth, Morita walks up to join Steve’s side, remaining in silence as they continue to search, letting Steve take his time to acknowledge that he was there.

That was before five minutes turned into fifteen, and then into twenty, and after another half hour, Morita places a hand on Steve’s shoulder, effectively stopping him in his tracks. Feeling muscles tense under his hand, providing a reassuring squeeze, Morita finally speaks up.

“Captain… Steve, we can’t keep this up forever…” the words deafening in the silence, Steve slowly shakes his head as his gaze falls to the ground, a sense of defeat falling over him.

He wasn’t a fool… he knew it wasn’t fair to them, or to anyone, for him to keep searching… but if he stopped… who would save Bucky from the darkness...

Startling awake once more, Steve catches his breath as tears burn in his eyes, wiping at his eyes and sitting up, he could easily tell it had been only a few hours. If the bright green numbers glaring at him weren’t enough, than the fact that the chatter from the kitchen subsiding was another.

Steve wasn’t a fool, he knew it had just been a dream, that he had never gone and searched for Bucky, but until he voiced those guilt filled fears, the dreams wouldn’t stop, and letting Bucky hear the truth, to let him down once more, Steve couldn’t handle that.

Letting out a sigh as he composed himself, climbing out of a bed and heading towards the adjoined bathroom, Steve could hardly recognize the haunted gaze that greeted him. Taking in another deep breath, turning on the water and splashing water onto his face, trying to wash away the darkness that lingered in his eyes.

Shutting off the tap, drying off his face, he turns and heads out of the bathroom, pausing in their bedroom at the door as he listened to Bucky from down the hall. The song he chose striking a chord harder in Steve than it should. Even as he headed towards him, the breath was sucked out of his lungs, not wanting to interrupt Bucky.

---

“Promise that we’ll stay for the sunset, and when the moon shines through the darkness. We can find the path that leads us home, and on the way you’ll... maybe... sing me a song.”

Bucky felt a smile pull up on his lips, arm wrapped around Steve’s shoulders affectionately, he pulls him closer and lets out a soft laugh as he they walk down the pier side by side.

It had taken a lot of bribing and begging on Bucky’s part, but he had gotten Steve to agree to spend the day with him at Coney Island. That itself was a day Bucky would always cherish in his heart.

What was even more memorable beyond that and getting Steve to ride the cyclone with him, was the fact he had gotten to take Steve out on a date. Despite Steve having grumbled under his breath about not being to share the payment for any of it, the smile and blush he had notice spread across Steve’s face as he stole a peck to the top of his head when no one was looking as they made their way home.

Well, it had been perfect. Especially with the moon and the sun the only ones to take witness to it.

“Promise that you always will be there, hold my hand, if ever I’m real scared. Help me stand up tall if I fall down, make me laugh away all my bluest days.”

Even when Steve picked a fight, gotten his ass kicked, he would always have Bucky there to patch him up. And just because Bucky was bigger, stronger, and healthier, that didn’t automatically make him the tougher of the two.

Every time Steve got into the middle of something, it was enough for Bucky’s heart to drop down to his stomach and then end back up in his throat if the fight was bad enough.

Especially the time Steve had nearly collapsed after Bucky had found him, already left for dead for showing up too late, and spending hours at his bedside. By the time Steve had woken back up, the first sensation that registered, was the two hands surrounding his own and holding it tenderly, but afraid to let go. Hearing Bucky muttering under his breath, praying to the bits and pieces Steve could gather. Along with a silent plea of, “Don’t die on me… please.”

A cough rattling out of his chest, alerting to Bucky that he was awake, a pair of red puffy eyes greeted him, a tremble of a smile on his lips. It was enough to strike a harder, more prevalent pain in his chest. “Stevie, don’t scare me like that…” Earning an admonishing shake of his Bucky’s head, Steve only felt worse. He didn’t want to cause Bucky pain, that was the last thing he ever wanted to do.

So that’s how he found himself mumbling the reply of, “Well, maybe you should kiss me better.” Meaning it as a half joke, the laugh that bubbled out of Bucky’s chest was enough to make all of Steve’s pain subside. Earning another muttered, “Punk,” a grin pulled up on his lips as Bucky leaned forward to kiss him. If he could make Bucky laugh, then Steve always knew they’d be okay.

“How could you promise you always would be there. Why’d you have to go away somewhere…”

Bucky could feel the flush to his skin, the anger burning in his eyes as he watched Steve push back against him in rage. Fists feebly pounding on his chest, only grunts rather than yelling unlike earlier.

It’s not Bucky’s fault he had to enlist and be shipped out. It’s not like he wanted to leave Steve behind, not be able to keep an eye on the dumb punk. But if it meant he could go and Steve stay, and remain safe and alive, than Bucky would willing do it.

Steve didn’t seem to agree. Hell, Bucky had seen this coming, all Steve could talk about was trying to find his way in, to do his part. And what he wanted to do, was serve.

Placing his hands on Steve’s shoulders, gently stopping him from wearing himself out, he lets out a soft sigh. “Stevie… it’s not like I want to leave you here, and you know that’s not what I mean. I don’t want to have to worry about you over there, when over here you’re raising hell already… Please… don’t make this harder than it has to be…”

Bucky could hear the slight crack to his voice, goddamn him. He didn’t want to fall apart in front of Steve, but the pure anger radiating from such a small frame, all directed at him, was disheartening.

“It’s not fucking fair, Buck… You said we’d be together ‘til the end of the line… What do you call going halfway ‘cross the world?” Shaking his head, the tension leaving his shoulders, Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky, burying his head against him. “It’s not fair, you promised…”

Hugging him close, holding his own tears back, Bucky pressed a light kiss to golden hair before resting his chin atop of it gently. “I know… I know I did. But even the whole goddamn world could keep me from loving you. You’re my whole heart, Stevie. I’ll always be with you. And that’s ‘til the end of the line, pal.”

“Every morning into every night, do you watch over me like the sun in the sky. Am I all alone, I’m standing in your light, I wish that I could… maybe… sing you a song… tonight… You’d promise me we’d stay for the sunset…”

Bucky sung softly to himself, singing a song he used to sing Steve when he thought Steve was asleep or unaware of him singing. Ending on a sigh, rubbing his face, he pushes up against the railing of the balcony. He was aware their three friends had left, when he couldn’t say though.

Unaware he had left the door to the balcony cracked, he wasn’t aware of Steve’s presence until he was right beside him, brushing up against him as he joined him. Shivering at the contact, Bucky glanced over at him, watching as Steve avoided his gaze, watching their hands as he intertwined their pinkies together.

“Steve-” Pausing as he gets a shake of Steve’s head, he gives Steve a moment as he clearly tries to find a way to say something. Waiting until he watches Steve give up, Bucky lets out another soft sigh before gazing down at their hands. “Stevie… we can’t keep this up forever… we need to talk about what’s bothering you.”

Earning a nod in response this time, Bucky nods back and lets the silence fall back over them, giving Steve all the time he needs in the world. A softness falling over Bucky’s face, he leans his head against Steve’s shoulder as he begins to hum softly to him. Feeling Steve take in a deep breath, he listens as Steve lets it out and begins to talk, already a tremor in his voice. “Bucky… I’ve known you my whole life, you’ve taken care of me countless times and I-... I can’t even begin to thank you for all the things you’ve done for me.” Taking Bucky’s hand fully into his, Bucky glances up to gaze at Steve, he still wasn’t looking directly at him, but if he was finally going to let out whatever was bothering him, then Bucky didn’t care what he looked at.

“I know… that… or at least… After you fell from the train, all those years ago… I-... I never went looking for you… I never even thought… that you could still be alive after a fall like that… Bucky, what happened to you was all my fault… I’m so sorry… It’s all my fault…” Steve’s voice breaking as he shakes his head, squeezing his hand tightly before letting it go and withdrawing from him. Reaching out and holding his hand tightly in his, Bucky shook his head as he pulled Steve into his arms.

“No. Stevie… What happened to me? That’s not your fault. It’s not yours. It’s not mine. You didn’t know… You didn’t know, that’s not your fault. You had the world to save-”

“But, Bucky, you are my whole world.”

Taking in a deep breath, Bucky held Steve tighter, not letting him run away this time. Not from this. It wasn’t either of their faults what happened to him. “Steve, it’s not your fault. It never was. You can’t go and change the past. But we can focus on the now and hope for a better future. We’re both here now, together. That’s what matters…”

Squeezing Steve as tight as he can before releasing him, grounding him to the present, Bucky takes a step back and cups Steve’s cheeks in his hands. Wiping the few tears that continue to fall, Bucky’s lips tremble up into a soft smile. “If I kiss you, will it make everything better?”

Letting that sink in, watching as the laugh bursts out of Steve, Bucky takes that as a yes and leans forward, pressing their lips together in a tender kiss. Pulling away and pressing their foreheads together, Bucky gently rubs Steve’s cheeks. “Stevie… I’ll always be here with you. Always. ‘Til the end of the line pal…”

Watching as Steve calms down visibly, not saying anything as Steve nods once more, he grins and gently rubs the tips of their noses together. “And I know we missed the sunset… but even after all the darkness and the nightmares, the sun rises too.”

Taking Steve’s hand in his own, gazing into his eyes and watching as more tears form, this time out of something besides sadness, he earns another kiss before Steve pulls him into his arms this time.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Buck… Whatever you do, don’t die on me… please,” Barely a whisper, but ever deafening in Bucky’s ears, Bucky chuckles softly as they both turn to look over the horizon, the first glimpse of the sun shining in the sky.

“Don’t worry, you won’t ever have to again… that’s a promise.”

Watching as the sun rises higher in the sky, remaining in each other’s embrace, Bucky couldn’t imagine anywhere he’d rather be. Despite the nightmares that plague Steve, Bucky will always be there to remind them that the sun still rises even after the dark. Just as Steve had once done for him. No matter what happens to the two of them, they’ll always be there for the other, and that within itself was a promise.

[bithor]

you drain all the fear from me

pairing: bucky barnes/steve rogers

summary:

“I don’t fucking care!” snaps Bucky, and the way his raised voice damn near breaks at the last syllable keeps Steve from continuing. “It doesn’t matter what they say to you, or anyone else in this whole damn city, you hear me?”

(Steve gets into another fight, and Bucky is less than pleased.)

word count: ~1.25k

Warnings: some cursing, brooklyn boys being dumb, what else is new

notes:

requested by anon, who asked:

35. “You make me feel safe.” for stucky? thanks! ❤️❤️

this turned out longer than expected, but it’s the first thing i’ve posted in forever, so i hope you like it!! thanks to the love of my life @bucksies for proofreading ❤️

title from fall out boy’s champion; lmk if you want to be tagged in stuff i write!

requests are open!

“You wanna tell me what happened out there?”

Steve is sitting on their threadbare couch, split lip dripping blood onto his pants, as Bucky kneels before him. He’s unraveling their well-worn roll of gauze that spends more time out of the cupboard they keep their assorted knicknacks in then it does inside it, and is giving Steve his time-honed disapproving glare. Really, Bucky’s had it mastered since they were nine years old. Steve’s seen Bucky’s sisters quake under that very same gaze more times than he can count, but it’s easy for him to meet it with an indignant glare of his own. Practice makes perfect.

“Thought you got a pretty good look at it, yourself.”

Bucky yanks the strip of gauze he’s holding off the roll, and Steve’s eyes dart to the taut curves of his tightly clenched fist. His knuckles are stark-white against the fading purple bruises that seem to have found a permanent home there - not like that’s Bucky’s fault, of course. Once Bucky finishes up with Steve’s bruises, Steve’ll have to remind Bucky to wrap up his own hand.

“He was gonna kill you, Stevie,” Bucky spits out. His voice is knife-point sharp, but his lithe fingers are as gentle as ever as they reach for Steve’s own. “You can’t keep doing this, or - Christ, Stevie, you woulda’ died.”

Steve almost shrugs, before remembering what Bucky had said the last time he’d done that. “Buck, you heard what he said to -”

“I don’t fucking care!” snaps Bucky, and the way his raised voice damn near breaks at the last syllable keeps Steve from continuing. “It doesn’t matter what they say to you, or anyone else in this whole damn city, you hear me?” Steve’s the one fresh from a fight, but it’s Bucky who’s breathing heavily, Bucky who looks almost like a cornered animal, Bucky whose eyes are bright and frantic.

He tears his gaze away from Steve’s own, and focuses on the bloody knuckles he’s wrapping a bandage around. Red seeps through the pristine white gauze as it always does, painting it crimson. There’s no way to hide the fact that Steve Rogers is always fighting against someone, or against something.

“Buck,” says Steve, slowly. “You know damn well I can’t ignore what they say, someone’s gotta hold them to their words.”

“And that person doesn’t hafta’ be you!”

But Steve knows, even as Bucky tightens a knot on his knuckles for the second time this week and even as they wind through the same argument that’s always an inevitability in their lives, that it does, it does have to be him, because he’s the only punk in Brooklyn who ever dares to fight for someone and not just against someone.

Storm-grey eyes meets his again and wait, Steve takes that back. There’s no fucking way he’s the only person in the city who fights for someone, because the other person is right in front of him, wrapping up his wounds though he knows full well they’ll be making a reappearance soon.

So Steve says, “‘Course it does, Buck. ‘Sides, I got you to save my ass, don’t I?” The words are light, easy, almost offhand, but Steve’s hand to God, it’s the truth. I know you have my back is what he doesn’t say, swallowing the words like he used to do so often, when it came to Bucky. I fight because of you, because I wanna be someone you’d be proud of. Doesn’t matter if he’s being pummeled half to death in a grimy alleyway - the minute Bucky’s imposing shadow darkens the sidewalk, Steve feels fucking invincible.

I fight because I know you’ll be there. You make me feel safe.

Bucky shifts slightly, and the sunlight streaming in from their window breaks past his dark hair and lands on a patch of stuffing poking out of the couch. He lets go of the gauze, turns his hand so his thumb brushes across the side of Steve’s. “That’s no reason for picking fights.”

“Sure it is.”

A bitter chuckle forces its way out of Bucky’s mouth. “Punk.”

“Jerk,” Steve rejoins automatically, the banter as familiar as anything. He slides down from where he’s perched on the edge of the cushions so he’s sitting on the ground, pressed up between Bucky and the edge of the couch, hanging by a thread between Bucky and the edge of the world. His spare hand, the one that he’d patched up himself with a spare bandage in his pocket on the way home, reaches for Bucky’s other hand and holds it tight.

“You’re not allowed to get yourself killed,” mutters Bucky. Gingerly, he lifts Steve’s bruised hand to his lips, kisses every bleeding scrape, motions feather-light. “If you do, I’ll kill ya myself, hear that?”

Smirking, Steve juts his chin out. “Doubt you would.”

“Pal, you’d probably croaked if I so much as breathed on you.”

“I’d probably get a good punch in, though.”

Bucky groans, and the sound sends shivers down Steve’s spine. “Swear to God, don’t even talk about punching anyone right now. You’re going to sit right here, and I’ll get you a blanket or something, and you’re going to draw something in that sketchbook of yours and not get into any other fucking fights.”

“What if you -”

“No.”

Steve laughs, reaches for the side of Bucky’s face and lets his palm settle there. “What if my best guy’s in trouble?”

“Bet he can handle himself just fine,” says Bucky, voice edged with laughter.

“I’d ask you to keep an eye on him, but he’s probably got that covered,” replies Steve with a shrug.

“Fucking punk,” mutters Bucky, glancing up at the ceiling. “See what I gotta put up with?”

Laughing, Steve leans in for a soft kiss, which Bucky, judging by the way his fingers find their way to his the nape of his neck and the jut of his waist, is all too eager to return.

“You’re lucky I love you,” grumbles Bucky when he pulls back, but his eyes are gleaming. I’m the luckiest bastard in Brooklyn. “Don’t I know it,” says Steve lightly, pulling in Bucky for another kiss.

[bridgertonlife]

@jamesmorita ha respondido a tu publicación: @jamesmorita ha respondido a tu publicación : ...

fair enough! i’ve never gotten to hear the audio commentary for cacw, so i didn’t know they completely admitted it. that is the laziest storytelling ever u g h

Yeah. It's lazy storytelling at it's pike. I'm so worried about "Infinity War" because I truly want it to be good. Damn. Hope they did better this time with the help of James Gunn and Jon Favreau executive producing.

[imperatorrrrr]

Thirty

Rules: Answer thirty (I don’t think its really thirty though?) questions and tag people you would like to get to know better. 

Tagged By: @jamesmorita :)

Gender: Female

Star Sign: Virgo

Height: 4′11 3/4 (Look the three quarters MATTERS okay.)

Favorite Bands: Vampire Weekend, The Black Keys, Bombay Bicycle Club, Led Zeppelin, Queen, Modest Mouse, Sylvan Esso, TV on the Radio, Temper Trap

Favorite Solo Artists: Childish Gambino, Kendrick Lamar, Drake, Beyonce, Bruno Mars, Lauryn Hill, Regina Spektor, Jack White

Current Favorite Song: Its a tie between Bottle Rocket by Kovas and Sky Walker by Miguel (Yes, I know that recently SebStan was all about this song, but I loved this song before he spoke words about it, I swear!)

Last Movie I Watched: Mad Max: Fury Road 

Last TV Show I Watched: Well, I’m watching Devils/Lightning Game Five right now while doing this, but the last thing I watched was the first half of the latest episode of Atlanta.

When I Created This Blog: January 2010. I created it to document my time living in Edinburgh. And I’m still goddamn here on this site. What is wrong with me. (Everything)

What I Post: Anything, everything really. Lots of Bucky Barnes/Marvel. Lots of posts about shows I watch, art, beautiful people, fashion, Bollywood. There’s no rhyme or reason behind anything. New York Mets, New Jersey Devils. Shitposts.

Last Thing I Googled: “Pizza Hut Deals” - We’re getting pizza tonight so I wanted to see if there were any deals or summat on. 

Any Other Blogs: Nope. Well okay technically yes. I do a 7th Heaven podcast (because that show is absolutely ludicrous), and we had a Tumblr for it, but I did a horrid job maintaining it so it exists, but I do fuck all on it.

Do I Get Asks: Close to never really.

Followers:  723

Favorite Colors: Purple. But also green. 

Average Hours Of Sleep: Uh god it is so erratic. I could get like ten or eleven hours and then other times get like five. 

Lucky Number: 16

Instruments: I played the alto saxophone in high school and freshmen year of college.

What I’m Currently Wearing: Dark grey leggings and a flowy tan/brown top

How Many Blankets I Sleep With: Just the one duvet no matter what time of year it is.

Dream Job: I don’t even know anymore to be honest. I’m trying to be an immigration lawyer. I’m terribly disheartened by life and the world right now that I can’t even think about what my dream job would be. But as an immigration lawyer I want to help people get asylum and stop people from being deported. 

Dream Trip: I want it to never stop. I want to spend like a significant amount of time in each city until I’ve done them all. Go go go go and never come back. Like spend a month or two or three in each country even. I want to go everywhere and really spend the time necessary to truly get to know a place. There’s so many places I haven’t been yet.

Do I Have A Crush: Yeah, I think so. I say its one of those things where when I’m not around him I kind of forget that I have a crush, but as soon as I’m around him again it all comes rushing back. Its a crush thats been crushing for like three years now, so yeah. 

Favorite Animal: Elephants, but also peacocks and also bears

Hair Color: Brown

I Tag:@notlucy, @chicklette, @sinkhol, @tinybearswithjetpacks, @743ish, and @imwith-nomad and obviously anyone else who loves meme-ing it up. 

[spacebuck]

my favorite fic of yours is Howitzer, but you probably knew that already lmao 💜

♥♥♥♥♥ i did but i still love hearing it, i’m so glad u liked it!!!

(what’s your fave of my fics? bonus: why?)

[beautifulwhensarcastic]

jamesmorita replied to your photoset: Avenger ladies as college friends/roommates AU. 

the best thing is that you can tell maria is saying “let’s make out” and sharon is like “:o!! yes!!”

This is totally what happened! :) in my personal hadcanon about this universe Maria wants to make out with all the ladies. Though in the end she falls for Sharon, because I just love the two of them. 

[goldenageofespionage]

Flowers for Stark (Florist!Bucky AU by Laura and Me):

Gender is fluid. Bucky knows this. Heck, Tony proves it just about every time he comes into the shop. That’s easy to accept, easy to see. What’s a little harder to accept is his own, Brooklyn born, United States Marine, self being genderfluid. Not only that, but what are these feelings he’s having for that knucklehead mechanic? The one with the Van Dyke, that Bucky is vaguely sure has an Anthony Stark obsession. Oh god… how is he going to tell Steve?

[thewinterbucky]

Okay, @jamesmorita tagged me in this ages ago, and I just found it in my drafts cause I guess I forgot to post it...I'm so sorry, love. You're supposed to answer the questions and then post 11 more, but I'm just gonna answer Laura's (😘).

1. if you could immediately master one skill, what would you choose? An instrument (piano or guitar) or languages.

2. what line from a movie or tv show do you quote the most often? oh shit, wayyy too many. Uh probably something from Brooklyn Nine-Nine like ‘Noice!’ or the Mulaney New in Town sketch.

3. what does your favorite shirt look like? Oo I’m wearing it right now, it a cotton button down plaid and it’s blue green with little stirpes of yellow and white with some read. Or my plain black tank top.

4. if you could go change one aspect of your past, would you? I mean possibly? I’m doing okay in life rn and I don’t want to jepordize it, but there are some little things I wouldn’t mind changing.

5. where would you live, given a choice from anywhere on the planet? Coast of Ireland, or in the middle of nowhere in New Zealand, or in a cabin in the woods in like the Rocky Mountains, somewhere like that. 6. what was the best day you’ve had so far? Any of the days when I went to Korea are up there, there was a day I went out by myself to go see a musical with one of my favourte musicians as the lead and it was in this amazing opera house and it was beautiful.There was the day we went to one of the oldest buddhist temples in Korea that was hella cool. Or when I fianlly saw Muse in concert, or when I met Sebastian Stan, that was great. 7. who is your hero? When I was growing up it was Steve Irwin and Jackie Chan. Now “Mad Jack” Churchill is up there, so is Billy Millen, both served in WW2 and were amazing people. But my hero as in superhero would be Captian America (Closly followed by Hawkeye) and I don’t just mean Steve Rogers, but anyone who has taken up the shield and upheld the values - Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes. (Nick Spencer’s cap doesn’t count, fuck that guy) 8. when you’re old, what is the one thing you want to be able to say that you accomplished in your life? That I was happy. 9. why do you ship your top otp? Jesus, I don’t know. Stucky has such a stron connection ya know, they just fit and they have this bond that is incredible and even if you don’t ship it romantically they are so important to each other that it makes my heart hurt. I want a connection like that with someone someday. They’re so damn loyal.

10. what fandoms do you consider yourself a part of? I mostly reblog stuff…but I’d say Marvel, Tolkien and The Cosmere Books by Brandon Sanderson (mainly Stormlight Archive).

11. do you enjoy any sports? either watching or playing, it doesn’t matter I love soccer, I played growing up and I wish I still played. I recently played a bit of Softball and I had a ton of fun doing that. Watching Hockey is pretty fun too.

[whmsic0tt]

bravobarnes. do it.

bravobarnes poisoned my water supply, burned my crops, and delivered a plague to my home

[raisedinthunder]

happy birthday! i hope the upcoming year has nothing but good things in store for you 🎂🎉🎈🎉🎆

Thank you my love 😊💖

[bithor]

first sight (you made me look twice)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers

Summary:

“What,” Bucky finally sputters, “the hell.”

Hot Guy turns around, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“You literally - that - a bookshelf, you held up a whole fucking bookshelf, how the hell did you -”

Bucky pauses for breath. His thoughts are racing, and Hot Guy, looking far too amused, is not helping. “Who the hell are you?” he manages. In hindsight, some thanks would have been in order, but this guy just supported the whole weight of a bookshelf and Bucky is seriously confused. And also a little turned on, not like that’s relevant.

(or; the one where Bucky can’t reach a book and ends up knocking over the whole shelf, and of course Steve Rogers sees him do it).

Word Count: ~2.5k

Warnings: A fair amount of cursing

Notes:

My first fic for these two! It’s been so long since I’ve written something this long (hence, there’s probably a lot of room for improvement), and I almost can’t believe that I cranked this out in a day, honestly; I had so much fun writing this! There were a few ideas I’d been considering, but when I saw this prompt, I had to write it!

Written for @bravobarnes - thanks so much for being so incredibly sweet, I hope you like it!

Proofread by @hearing-from-my-lawyers - thanks for putting up with me, idiot. Title is from Seeing Stars by BØRNS.

Requests are open!

He isn’t that short.

And yeah, Bucky knows that’s something short people always say to try to delude themselves, but he really isn’t, because five foot eight and a half is a perfectly respectable height, fuck you very much, Sam.

That being said, there are times he really can’t stand being five foot eight and a half. Like right now. Because in front of him, here in the library of Columbia University, is a textbook he needs to finish his bioengineering essay, dented at the spine and title faded but containing all the information about prostheses he could ever need, and it’s on a shelf five feet fucking eleven inches high. And he’s been trying to get it for the past fifteen minutes.

Somewhere, he imagines, Sam Wilson is laughing.

He figures that there’s probably a much more rational way to solve this very pressing problem (Find someone? Get something to stand on? Scream in frustration?), but he’s Bucky Barnes, goddamnit, and he’s very much capable of retrieving a book from a shelf that’s two and a half inches too tall for him.

That’s what he told himself, fifteen minutes ago, but the book is still decidedly not in his possession.

Reaching up on the tips of his toes for what feels like the thousandth time - he’ll bet there’s a new crease in his Converses, by now - he swipes madly at the book. It evades him, yet again.

“Oh, come on,” he mutters - growls, really. The notion of a little creature yanking back the book every time he reaches for it flashes across his sleep-deprived mind, and he snorts.

“Need a hand?”

Though it really isn’t that implausible, Bucky is fairly sure that he didn’t imagine that voice (his mind doesn’t usually sound that deep) and he whirls around.

Nonsensically, the first thing that crosses his mind is, of fucking course.

Because he’s spent the past fifteen minutes doing everything he can to get this one book that’s just barely too tall for him and he looks like a complete ass doing it and he’s pretty sure he’s been muttering to himself and there’s probably coffee spilled down his front and his hair came out of the low bun he tied it in before he left so he probably seems completely deranged and of course it’s the hottest person he’s ever seen who’s walked in on him. He’s got the build of someone who’s lives in an off-campus gym (and the white t-shirt of someone who tends to shop two sizes too small because damn, that chest is a work of modern art), eyes that look like a window into an afternoon sky, and hair that, to Bucky’s crazy mind, reminds him of a field of wheat he drove by once.

And he’s smiling.

Fuck.

The smile looks a little bit more strained, at some point, and it finally occurs to Bucky that he’s essentially been gaping at this stranger for - how long has he been gaping at a complete stranger?

“Um.” he gets out. Sam is having a conniption, wherever he is. “I think I’m good, actually.”

Those blue eyes that Bucky really couldn’t look away from if he tried seem to sparkle with mirth. “You sure about that?”

A part of him, admittedly, is screaming at him to accept this guy’s help, thank him, and go home with his textbook and maybe the guy’s phone number if he plays his cards right (and that’s definitely not an unfamiliar game). It’s the smart way out.

But. Bucky is one stubborn son of a bitch - he’s been told so more times than he can count - and he may be kind of short but he’s nothing if not determined and there’s something programmed in him that simply will not let him take this guy’s offer because that’s not what he does.

So instead he shrugs, taking care to keep his gaze level (like he’s totally not contemplating punching the bookshelf - with his metal arm, no less), and says, “Yeah, I’m sure,” before forcing himself to turn back to that accursed bookshelf. Hot Guy hasn’t moved, and Bucky imagines his gaze following him.

The book is still there. It’s taunting him.

Hot Guy is watching him.

In a last-ditch attempt to not look like a vertically-challenged lunatic, he leans up on his toes, and swipes at it again. This time, though, he effortlessly grabs it, tucks it under his arm, and flashes Hot Guy a devil-may-care smirk.

At least, in a perfect world, that’s what would have happened.

Instead - instead - he fucking jumps on his tiptoes like a petulant five year old. And he jumps forward, reaching out while throwing his weight wildly in the direction of the book, and instantly regrets every decision he’s ever made in his life that’s taken him to this very moment. The bookshelf is a hardy one, but it cannot withstand the force of Bucky Barnes’s metal arm (a Stark model, no less) shoving it angrily, and as Bucky’s feet reorient themselves on the ground, time seems to halt.

It’s the kind of moment that’d make for a great entry in a photography contest - a tired and disheveled university student, metal hand hanging loosely at his side, gaping in sheer dread and bewilderment as a bookshelf stacked with rows and rows of university-level reading overbalances.

And the moment it’ll finally crash to the ground, Bucky thinks irrationally, would make for a great Vine.

He sees a bright white flash of motion out of the corner of his eye in that split second, and Hot Guy is gone. A good idea, he thinks.

After another millisecond of this, he wonders why nothing’s crashed yet. Stranger yet, the bookshelf seems to be frozen at an angle, shaking furiously but about a yard off the ground. Bucky darts around to figure out what the hell is happening, and is treated to the jaw-dropping spectacle of Hot Guy supporting the entire weight of this bookshelf by himself, a knee to the ground and biceps spectacularly on display.

Ideally, Bucky would just marvel at the sight for upwards of an hour, but he’s not that much of an asshole (he’d say he isn’t that desperate, but that probably wouldn’t be true), so he wordlessly races over to the far side of the shelf, drops to a knee, and drives his weight forward.

He’ll be the first to say that he isn’t unathletic, but it’s mainly from the effort of Hot Guy that they manage to force the bookshelf back into an upright position, with the only casualties being some books lying on the floor from their efforts and some muscles in Bucky’s back. He’s breathing heavily and leaning on the shelf - probably not a wise move, considering they literally just set it right - but Hot Guy looks like he hasn’t broken a sweat.

“What,” Bucky finally sputters, “the hell.”

Hot Guy turns around, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“You literally - that - a bookshelf, you held up a whole fucking bookshelf, how the hell did you -”

Bucky pauses for breath. His thoughts are racing, and Hot Guy, looking far too amused, is not helping. “Who the hell are you?” he manages. In hindsight, some thanks would have been in order, but this guy just supported the whole weight of a bookshelf and Bucky is seriously confused. And also a little turned on, not like that’s relevant.

Hot Guy sticks out his hand, and Bucky’s gaze involuntarily flicks to his biceps before returning to his eyes - Jesus Christ is he a fucking train wreck right now.

“Steve Rogers,” he says, the name embedding itself into Bucky’s brain permanently. His voice is a bit hoarse, and damn if that doesn’t do things to Bucky. “Art major. And you are?”

“Bucky Barnes, and - wait, did you say you’re an art major?” The question hangs between them, before Bucky belatedly takes Hot Guy - Steve’s hand and shakes it.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Mainly studio, but I’m minoring in graphic design, too.”

For a shining moment, Bucky visualizes Steve standing before an easel, face screwed up in concentration as he looks from his canvas to something off in the distance. Not what he’d first expected, but definitely not an unwelcome image.

“Right,” he says, arm returning to his side. “Well, thank God you were here, or I’d probably be getting yelled at by someone, and the librarians here scare the shit out of me.” It’s a weak attempt at a joke (really, Bucky’s brain feels like it’s been turned to mush by this entire encounter), but Steve rises to it and laughs - a rich, low, ringing sound. He wants to record it, honestly, but that’d frankly be unnerving, so he settles for committing it to memory.

“Are any of them, by any chance, shorter than you?” says Steve, laughter still in his voice.

“Hey, fuck you,” retorts Bucky, “I’m not that short.” Steve, who’s probably well above six foot tall, raises an eyebrow.

“I’m really not! I was the tallest in my grade for eight years! Not all of us get to look like -” he gestures broadly at Steve’s frame “that, you know.”

Bemused, Steve looks down at himself, almost reflexively, like he has no clue what Bucky’s talking about.

“To be fair,” he says, shrugging sheepishly, “that only happened the summer before freshman year.”

“Of high school?”

“College.”

Bucky lets out a low whistle. “Seriously?”

“Yup,” Steve says, popping the p. “Shortest person in the entire grade twelve years straight, ‘til I got here. I was only supposed to hit five foot four, you know that?”

“Yeah, so what the hell happened?”

Steve looks down at the ground, before back up at Bucky. “It’s a long story.”

“I’ve got time,” says Bucky, trying - and probably failing - to not sound too enthusiastic.

“Maybe later.” Steve glances around, before a thought seems to strike him. “Wait, what book did you need, anyways?”

Right. The engineering book. He’d forgotten about that. Bucky motions for Steve to follow him, and he turns the corner, hoping that by some miracle the book had fallen to the floor or something.

No such luck. It’s still two and a half inches too fucking tall for him. Almost involuntarily, he swipes at it again, and predictably misses.

“Goddamnit.”

“Let me,” says Steve, reaching over effortlessly and plucking it from the shelf. He makes it look so damn easy, and Bucky would probably glare at him - he’s been told he has a glare that could kill a puppy - if Steve weren’t holding the book out in front of him and smiling bright as the sun. “Here.”

Bucky takes it from him, slowly. The part of him he’d thought he’d abandoned in his sophomore year of high school urges him to brush his fingers against Steve’s hand, to see if his hands are as warm and rough as he imagines, but Bucky settles.

“You know,” Steve says conversationally, glancing around the library, “they really shouldn’t make the shelves that tall.”

It’s true, but Bucky isn’t going to rise to the bait. “Nothing wrong with it.”

Steve looks at him impassively. “Sure.”

It finally hits Bucky that, as much as he wishes it were true, Steve hadn’t come to the library for the sole purpose of watching him try to get a book. “What’d you come for, anyways?”

“Couple’a textbooks, nothing I can’t reach.”

That little shit. “Are you ever going to let that go?” Bucky counters.

“No way in hell.”

No surprise there. “Well, are you going to get them, or are you just going to stand around looking pretty?” The question slips out before he really knows what he’s saying - no one’s had this effect on him in years, and he’s only known Steve for a grand total of ten minutes.

Thankfully, Steve flushes a little, and it’s absolutely adorable. “Um,” he stutters, “they’re - come on, I’ll show you. If you want.”

It never occurs to Bucky to say no, but he smirks anyways because come on, he’s gotta do something to salvage whatever’s left of his dignity. “That’s a hell of an offer, Mr. Rogers,” he says lowly.

“It’s two shelves over.”

“A lot can happen, two shelves over.”

“Fuck’s sake, Barnes.” He turns on his heel, and motions for Bucky to follow him, before heading deliberately over to the art section. As he follows, Bucky takes far more satisfaction than he should in seeing the bright red blush rising up Steve’s neck.

(He definitely doesn’t wonder how far down it goes.)

When they get there, Steve browses through the shelves for a few minutes before grabbing a few books on portraiture and Photoshop. Bucky‘s content to watch appreciatively.

“You know,” he says, trying to keep his tone light, “I’ve got a friend who’s majoring in art, he’d probably have some recs for you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, for sure. I’ll ask him and get back to you.”

“Oh, so you’d need my number for that.” Steve’s tone is amused - he already has Bucky’s number, and they’ve only known each other for fifteen minutes. It’s refreshing, really.

“Well, how else would I tell you?”

Steve plucks one more book in a fluid motion, and flashes Bucky a smirk that makes him - and he isn’t exaggerating here - go weak in the knees. “Oh, I’m sure you can figure out a way.”

And with that, he walks away and vanishes around the corner.

“Rogers, you asshole!” calls out Bucky, indignantly. All he gets for his trouble is a librarian from a nearby aisle shushing at him.

When he leaves the library, book neatly tucked under his arm, he’s still grinning wider than he’d thought possible.

Finding Steve Rogers’s phone number is much easier than he’d thought, really; Sam knows a guy who’s apparently in the same Graphic Design 101 class as Steve - some guy named Clint - and is more than willing to pass on the information. He also passes on the message “USE PROTECTION!!1!” in all caps, so that’s something.

Once Bucky gets back from his 2 pm lecture, he plugs in the number he’d received from Sam (that had been accompanied by a string of exceptionally dubious emojis that he really doesn’t care to think about).

To roger that: hey heard u wanted art book recs or smth pretentious like that

A few minutes later, grey dots pop up on the bottom of his screen, and his heart rate picks up.

From roger that: hey heard u knocked over a bookshelf or smth dumb like that

To roger that: fuck you

From roger that: at least take me out to dinner first

From roger that: if you can do that without knocking over a table

To roger that: 8:30 good enough for you?

From roger that: sounds good, where?

To roger that: i’m sure you’ll figure it out somehow

From roger that: asshole

Bucky grins and fires off a quick text to Clint with an address.

This is going to be fun.

[thatwanderingwriter]

"neville gonna give you up" i'm

neville gonna let you down

[futchmccree-archive]

hi, im tumblr user bravobarnes and i cause pain and suffering everywhere i go.

[imperatorrrrr]

jamesmorita replied to your post “The biggest thing to take away from that fifty five minute Sebastian...”

listen i would sell my soul for sebastian as sky masterson

I would diiiiie @jamesmorita. I didn’t even try to think as far ahead as WHO Seb would play in Guys and Dolls because my mind was stuttering on him SINGING in an audition for it in the first place. But Seb and Luck Be A Lady. I need help reacting.