#like what the hell would I make wilson without being basic as hell? what are w shaped animals? Im in shambles

[arolesbianism]

I need 2 get back on the fanart grind stat I need to draw orbo blorbos

[jamilynfx]

Do You Wanna Build a Snowman? (No, the fuck, I don't)

This is part 2 of this post 💖

Summary: Winter has come to New York and that means only two things: being cold and putting up with Wade's obsession with the movie Frozen.

Pairings: Logan Howlett x Wade Wilson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings: sexual humor, mentions of oral sex, referenced drug use

Winter. 

A time for singing carols, decorating a Christmas tree and eating unhealthy amounts of gingerbread. For some, an ideal season for various, cold-oriented activities that include skiing, snowball fighting or drinking hot chocolate right after ice-skating on the overpriced ice-rinks in the city center. 

You hate it all passionately.

Well, maybe decorating a Christmas tree is somewhat enjoyable and worth looking forward to but other activities that require being outside during winter are a hard no for you. 

Which brings you to the problem you encounter every other time that the weather decides it’s high time to spawn tons of snow in the city, or, more accurately, a problem with Wade’s obsession over that godforsaken children’s movie.

“Do you wanna build a snooooowmaaan?! COME ON, LET’S GO AND PLAY.”

Logan growls for, what seems to be, the hundredth time in an hour. Al looks defeated and only Laura completely ignores Wade’s crazy bouncing and twirling in favor of cutting out a perfect circle out of the cookie dough.

“Shut the fuck up, bub. No one wants to build a snowman with you,” Logan grumbles lowly, getting the volume all the way up on the TV, since it’s difficult to hear anything through Wade’s singing. 

Laura makes a face. 

“Ouch, that was a bit harsh, even for you.” 

“Sorry if I’ve had enough of this performance that’s going on for two hours now!” he exclaims heatedly but without real irritation behind it. That’s his way of saying that Wade really got on his nerves and he’s almost reached his daily limit for Wade’s bullshit.

“It’s fine, Lo, don’t shout,” you say with love, cutting out your own shape in a dough, a crooked star with rough, uneven edges. Making cookies is something that you enjoy doing, mostly because it’s all done inside the house, not outside, where all hell breaks loose. “Why don’t you go by yourself, Wade?” 

He looks kinda cute with Elsa’s costume he’s thrown on his suit and a plastic tiara set atop a blond wig he’s stitched to his head but hearing the same song being performed over and over again starts to tug on your nerves, too, especially when you know Wade is completely serious in saying he wants to build a snowman.      

“Because it’s BOOOORING! I would ask Al, but, well, she can’t fucking see, can you imagine what the snowman would look like if I did that with her? A fucking carrot up his ass, that’s what would happen! And the only snow she likes ain’t the one outside, hot pups.”

Al, sitting beside Logan on the couch, sighs loudly and nudges Logan’s side with her elbow. 

“What’s on now?”

“Hot pups?” you question, raising your brows and smiling at Laura, who tries not to laugh.

“That’s new,” Logan comments on a nickname that Wade’s just made up, simultaneously switching between the channels. “A western, soap opera or reality…”

“Reality!” Both Al and Laura are unanimous on this one. Logan changes the channel to trash reality tv without any protest.

“Exactly, hot pups or baby girl, that’s basically the same thing. Anyway, I’m not asking Laura because she’s our guest and I for sure won’t ask peanut, don’t wanna end up with that claws up my ass today. Something else would be fine, tho.” Wade winks to Logan who only rolls his eyes, not once looking in Wade’s direction. “I was gonna ask you but you hate winter activities, besides that one time when you sucked my dick in the park after we went to a Jonas Brothers concert.”

You almost get a whiplash from the way your head turns to look at him, your cheeks immediately turning a deep shade of red. 

“Wade!”  

Althea looks visibly disgusted, Laura blinks a few times muttering damn under her breath and Logan stares at you with and you haven’t done that to me? look on his face. You stifle an urge to run to the bathroom and not come out for the rest of the evening, covering your face with your hands.

“Motherfucker, I wish I was deaf,” Al laments out loud with Wade’s sick laughter as her background before he starts do you wanna build a snowman all over again. 

“Someone has to go out and build that damn snowman with him, I can’t hear a fucking thing!” Logan shouts abuse, his patience running thin judging by the way his claws unsheathe in his left hand. 

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Laura suggests good-naturedly for you to only whine in surrender. That’s enough chaos for this evening.  

“No, I’ll go with him,” you sigh with exasperation and get up to go get dressed. “But you’re soooo going down on me after this, Wade!” 

As soon as the sentence leaves your mouth, Wade squeaks excitedly, running to get his brand-new Frozen mittens, which he managed to yank out of a little girl’s hands while you were at the thrift store last week. 

“You got it, baby girl!” he exclaims and high-fives Laura on his way out, not waiting for you to catch up. You can only hear his do you wanna build a snowman while he hurries down the stairs of your compound.

Al, Laura and Logan all seem to breathe out in relief, focusing all their attention on the TV show that’s currently on. 

Even Mary doesn’t perk up from Logan’s lap and you can’t help but feel a little bit betrayed. 

______________

You have to admit, it’s not all that bad.

Wade does everything in his power to make it enjoyable for you, despite the low temperature and cold wind that blows in your face every other minute. There’s a lot of snow outside which makes for a really long snowman-building session, turning Wade into a literal five year old, but he still manages to make you laugh multiple times. You can’t really be cross with him when he’s having such a good time and, after your initial reluctance, you find yourself having a great time, too. 

The snowman turns out really cute and quite big, three sizable balls of snow each atop of the other, now standing guard in front of the entrance to your building. Somewhere between creating the top ball and sticking branches into the snowman’s sides to imitate arms, Laura comes down and says goodbye, reminding you both how late it is and that you should probably wrap the whole thing up. 

Now, you’re so cold it’s difficult to think straight. Your hands are shaking, teeth clattering and you’re sure that your lips have the color of a ripe plum. 

“We’ve made one hell of a snowman together, baby girl.” 

Your body trembles involuntarily but you smile happily, once again inspecting your work. 

“Yeah, we did.”

Wade hugs you closely and kisses your forehead, then your blue lips. 

“Come on, hot pups, let’s get you back to the warmth.”

Thank god you don’t have to go far. As soon as you’re back in the apartment, you ditch your shoes and outside clothes, which makes you feel even colder than when you were outside. It’s quiet inside, which means that Al is probably already asleep. Wade is somewhere behind you when you find Logan already in bed, Mary snuggled in between his legs, your old man reading a book. 

“All done? How was it?” he asks, setting the book aside and immediately raising the covers for you to join him. 

“COLD! Fuck!” 

You jump on the bed, choosing the quickest way to find yourself in Logan’s warm arms. Mary definitely doesn’t approve, getting her little ass up and pattering towards Wade, who has just entered the room. 

“Fuckin’ A, that’s what our snowman is, peanut,” he says, taking Mary up into his arms, kissing her and then setting her back on the bed to undress properly. Logan gives him a foul look.  

“She’s freezing, you idiot,” he grumbles at Wade, then smiles at you encouragingly. “Come ‘ere, bub,” Logan spurs you on, opening his arms for you and offering his chest to be your private pillow. You gladly accept, letting your body tremble and your teeth clatter as much as they want to while snuggling up in Logan’s embrace, your cold arms finding their way onto his back, your head falling into place half on his shoulder and half on his chest, allowing you to glue the front of your cold body to his heated one. He weaves his fingers into your hair while his other palm comes to rest on your waist, pulling you as close as it’s physically possible. 

Wade follows quickly behind to lock you in between them. When glorious heat starts radiating from both of them, enveloping you on both sides, you sigh contentedly, kissing up Logan’s chest, then finding the best slot for your cheek and straight up fawning on Logan.  

“I still want that head, asshole,” you mumble already half-asleep, feeling Wade’s hands roam over your legs and belly when he’s aligning himself with your back, covering your body with his and slowly heating you up from behind, making you melt against him. He throws his arm over your body to reach Logan, who growls warningly. 

“One day, I’m biting it off, you fucker.”

“Yeah, do it, it’s gonna grow back anyway, Wolvie,” Wade says mockingly, then trails the kisses behind your ear. “I’ll wake you up with it, snookums. Deal?” he asks, his low tone is making you shiver but this time it’s not out of cold. 

You smile dreamily, pressing your butt into his hips.

“Deal.”

[lizzydizzyyo]

I think what's really compelling about House's absolute unwillingness to bow down to anything or anyone (the ethical board, the law, extra rich CEO, vindictive police officer, and even the patients themselves) regardless of how absolutely batshit and downright illegal his actions are, is because it's coming from a chronically disabled person, in more ways than one.

He cannot walk without agony or his cane. His chronic and severe pain led him down the path of deep Vicodin addiction until he also becomes psychologically dependent on it too (once, Dr Cuddy gives him saline placebo and it "works", in that he is not feeling his leg pain anymore for a few hours).

He understands it deeply just how desperate people can be when they're in pain and nobody can (or are willing to) help them—at least, so far, until they land on his doorstep. Which is canonically the most extreme step patients take when everything else fails—you don't just go straight to Plainsborough Teaching Hospital and to Dr Gregory House MD's office; you have to go through dozens of other doctors in various specialties and failed treatments too.

(Although that's a separate discussion about how doctors, particularly resident ones, are overworked and underpaid and redtaped by shithead insurance companies even if they do know how to treat a patient and want to).

He knows, from the bottom of his heart, that having such a painful and life-limitting debilitating condition is comparable to hell on earth, because he has one. He knows, that despite his disability being visible to everyone, yet no one wants to put an effort to help him deal with it—is also hell on earth.

Cuddy simply throws money at him and turns the other way to his Vicodin abuse, like she is saying, "I don't care if he takes 10 Vicodin pills a day or more, and I have to pay at least $1M every year for lawsuits, as long as he gets the job done," (and when they decide to go into relationship, she immediately drops him when he relapses, even if the reason for his relapse is her—although, yes, there is another discussion to be had about keeping yourself and your child(ren) safe being a priority compared to helping an addict, recovering or not). Wilson, as loyal as he is to House, simply either enables him or lectures him without going into the root of the issue and thoroughly help House that way. His subordinates, especially after the original trio, are simply too scared, too ignorant, or too ambitious to even approach the issue and choose to keep their job than help House (also another discussion to be had about how you can't help people who don't want to help themselves and so on).

So when he sees a patient who has gone through hell trying to get a correct diagnosis and treatment, he becomes laser-focused on doing everything under the sun to get to the bottom of it and cure the patient. He doesn't care if he has to break into countless of houses (haha pun) and collect insane and probably biohazard samples to do it—he absolutely will, no question.

Yes, hate-criming and being a bigot is his favorite hobby (still livid at the asexual ep and the production's choice for the resolution, let's just say I still have beef with Hugh Laurie and the entire production team for it), and so is insulting patients in so many ways that Shakespeare would personally fly to New Jersey and shake his hands if someone manage to successfully perform necromancy on ol' Billy boy. But House is no one if not dedicated. "Yes, my patient is an idiot, everyone is an idiot too, but I WILL cure their condition like my life depends on it," is basically his middle name.

Besides, you can make the argument that he is more compassionate than all the other doctors around him, because despite his absolute disdain towards some of his patients' beliefs and stupidity, he still works his ass off to treat them. He will call your god an idiot in 7 different languages while putting you in a diagnostic machine he manipulated the whole hospital into letting him use so that you could get a test which weren't available to you before. He will tell you that your currently-happy marriage will end in a bloody divorce and your ex will leave you penniless so love is not real while injecting you with a medication he had to hack the CDC's database for.

There are even episodes that show him being truly earnest, like the clinic duty scene where he is snarky as usual to a girl who seemingly stupidly had unprotected sex until she lashes out, and House is like, "Oh shit, this is above my paygrade", and immediately goes to Cuddy with a very serious expression and no sarcastic dilly-daliying, demanding her to transfer the patient to someone else because he is not good with "curing" rape case (interesting choice on the writers' part to make the patient insist to have therapy with House, though).

There is an episode about a very workaholic woman executive in a fashion company who has tremor and partial paralysis, and later on it's shown that she seems to tie her worth as a person to her corporate success while band-aiding her deep psychological issue like her suicidal ideation, and House genuinely asks her, "Do you want to live? I cannot help you unless you want me to," or something along the line.

There is also the cursed 9-year-old terminal brain cancer episode where Chase kissed the patient (ew), where at first it shows House being a usual misanthophe to Wilson and saying, "She is not brave, it's the brain tumor clot talking because it must be near the amygdala." Later in the episode, House sits near the patient alone, and compassionately asks her if she even wants to live, going through the rest of her short-lived but horrible agony, even if they catch the clot. The surgery to find and get rid of the clot is risky and can debilitate her even more, and this is why House is laying the decision to her hands. That she gets to choose. This is what truly reveals to him that she is genuinely brave (aside from the scan showing the clot to be so far away from her amygdala), but for the wrong reason. She is brave for her mom, willing to go through horrible surgery and drag out her already painful cancer-ridden life because, "My mom needs me". When everyone is congratulating her in the end, you can tell House has a bittersweet expression of both awe towards her bravery, and sadness that this 9-year-old sick girl has to bear the brunt of her horrible pain just so that her mother is not sad. That he couldn't convince her to be a child until the nearing end of her life.

The most interesting evidence of his compassion to me is the gunman hostage episode. It might sound weird because in the whole episode, he is depicted to first want to outsmart the gunman patient, then becomes laser-focused but only because he sees it as a puzzle, then absolutely selfish and dangerous because he volunteers himself as the last hostage and gives the gun back to the guy after the MRI. I do think it's true that his dedication to solving patients-are-just-puzzle-to-me conditions shines through in the episode, especially the scene of him returning his gun, but there is something else I catch when I rewatched it before.

When the gunman patient is put in the MRI because Cameron tells him a theory through the hostage call, the remaining doctors in the room including House are wary at the gunman but also hopeful. Yet, when the result shows up on the screen, he realizes that the theory is wrong and the guy let go his only bargaining chip for nothing. If you watch this part carefully, you'll notice that House actually looks pitying and sad at the gunman's disappointed demeanor and expression. He realizes he is going to be another notch in the guy's failed doctors list, and at this point (with the gun given away and even the best, most talented doctor also not finding out what's wrong with him), the guy has given up hope that he will ever see the day he will be cured, certainly not behind the bars.

Yes, his thirst for puzzle is House's big driving force in giving back the gun, but you'll be lying to yourself if you don't notice House's compassion for the guy because he doesn't want the guy to go out empty-handed, with absolutely no more hope because House knows once they step out of the door, this guy will never, ever be allowed to be in the vicinity of any hospital or doctor ever again in his life, aside from jail's bare-minimum exams and medications. House can't handle the thought of putting someone else through his own disappointment—that nothing works to help his leg pain. He especially doesn't want to be the cause for this gunman guy's case either. Even in the end when House realizes the guy is a fucking moron because he doesn't know that Florida is, in fact, in earthwide-horizontal tropical zone and this is what stumps most of the guy's previous doctors—House still gives him a subtle salute to the guy while being handcuffed and led away, almost to say, "Enjoy your healing and the defeat of your arch nemesis The Sickness™, glad to be part of it."

Majority of his drive to stop at nothing until his patient is cured is definitely thanks to his own fucked-up leg, even if there are some dialogues with Cuddy and Stacy Warner (House's ex wife) that seem to imply he has always been a misanthrophe whose hobby is getting into malpractice (or general) lawsuits. I wholeheartedly believe that after his leg clot rendered him disabled and with chronic pain, he became much more dedicated and obsessed with getting to the bottom of a patient's medical information, even for info that seems innocuous or irrelevant that always turn out to be important (probably more like a plot armor than established characterization, to be honest), almost like this is his method of relating to the patients in his own weirdly human way, and maybe a little bit (actually, a lot) of projecting.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[rainismdata]

Hilson [ENG] prompt

...when they were young actors in plays.

(timeline: early '90s)

Play, no. 1:

This is going to be the first time House and Wilson met each other, in a play where they were just friends of the leading character. In their sequences, both are showing interesting connection/collaboration through their characters' banters. As people were guessing there's something between them. They (the characters) stay close till the end of the play even without any obvious description about what they are going to be in later time (the play doesn't have sequel, so it's just basically done).

Play, no. 2:

This is going to be the time where they are the main characters, in a play where it's kind of musical (or just— musical, what should I say). It's either Wilson plays as a man and House a woman, or House as a trans, or— House plays a character that has to be in woman clothes to do something (maybe he has to disguise because he's on run away). They sing. They dance. They play instruments. Their character fall in love, Wilson's character as the one who doesn't mind about House' identity. House' character tried to push Wilson' character away. But they always find a way to meet each other, having no excuse to not to having conversation on their own. Ups and downs happened. Both of them stayed in love with each other. Wilson's character showing that he would always faithful to House' character and their love. House' character showing determination on how he himself would manage the relation, thinking that he would be a burden. With a trilogy of play, at the end they find a way to live in each other arms, finally getting in together. Wilson's character stays, protecting them. House' character stays, now he's not afraid to show his love to Wilson's character. Ending the trilogy with a kiss, the only kiss they've done in the trilogy.

Now... That I tried to keep it in the same timeline of House MD (but in an alternative canon/universe), they could've fall in love after the play no. 2 or while in the play. Still— House found Wilson first at the convention and bailed him out of jail. But they don't know yet about them, until the play no. 1, they suddenly met, as actors, with their own characters. It was kind of awkward at first, knowing they know each other before, but it was what making their work interesting and loved by the audience. They worked so well together. And then play no. 2 happened. It makes their relationship more interesting. They hold hands, they're dancing together, they're playing instruments together, they're singing back-to-back. Their last kiss feels natural and comforting. They slept in each other arms when they're back at Wilson's. Saying nothing, but their act is showing that they're in a bit of confusion of what they are, but at the same time— they are happy, now that they could show their love to each other, even it's just little actions.

I also like to think that Wilson would only has two marriage, ended around '97 or '99. Feeling that there is no reason for him to get to another marriage, as it seems the women he's been married to were not as in love and not as faithful as he was to them. Only then he also realize that his life also revolves around House. He doesn't hate it. He feels that this was just feels right; this, everything happened between Wilson and House.

House married Stacy because— he also feels love. But he doesn't realize that it was kind of forced by his parents. However, he is happy with Stacy, happy loving Stacy, happy getting loved by Stacy. Infarction comes, and they got divorced.

It broke House. He's still in very much pain (physically), and now he has to deal with the pain in his heart. Wilson is always there for him. Being with him, accompanying him going through what it feels like hell. Wilson is not going to let House end his own life. He's making sure that he is there with him, helping him, taking House to his embrace, taking care of him. House still can be an asshole sometimes, but Wilson knows he doesn't mean it. In his heart, House knows that he needs Wilson.

And later in seasons, I'd like to think that they're faithful to each other, loving each other, sleep in each others' arms, staying close to each other. When they were together, they would somehow show that the world is theirs.

[existentialqueer]

Tranny Bladder

In light of the renewed wave of transgender bathroom bills being pushed and passed, I thought I would share a relevant chapter from S. Bear Bergman’s Butch Is a Noun.  "I have a tranny bladder. You know what I mean, right? The amazing ability to go approximately forever without needing to pee? I am the person who leaves the house, has two meals with a soda and a glass of water at each, returns home eight hours later and finally pees, after having stood around several times, at least after each meal, trying not to look like a sexual deviant (you know, in the bad way) while hanging around the restrooms waiting for my date to finish up. I wait to pee until I can get to a "safe" bathroom, safe bathrooms being the kind in which I am not screamed at to get out immediately, where I am not followed in by the lurking-outside-waiting-for-his-daughter father looking to kill me slowly, and that I can use without an NYPD officer and an Army private on Homeland Security detail (just, you know, for example) being called in to look at my ID.    This mostly means waiting until I am no longer in a public place, and so I just wait. The years and years of waiting, and holding it, have taken their eventual toll, it seems. And so, like so many butches I have known, like so many of my trans-siblings, I have developed this miraculous ability to just... wait. I mean, we are also probably dehydrated. You do not see deviantly gendered people walking around with Nalgene bottles, getting our sixty-four recommended ounces as we go through our days. I am sure that somewhere there is an argument to be made that the trans community as a whole is a little cranky because we could all use a nice big glass of water.    It makes both my grandmothers crazy to the point of neurosis, by the way. They think there is something the matter with me (you know, in the bad way). They look at me with eyes full of the measuring, medical expertise that apparently comes with being a Jewish grandmother, and they shake their heads and quiz me like a six-year-old with an unfortunate habit of wetting myself.    Did you go? Do you need to? Are you sure? Did you try?    What do I say? No, Nana, I don't need to use the bathroom, and I will not for the entire forseeable future because I'm sure as hell not using a women's bathroom here in South Florida, which is populated entirely by slender blonde girls and elderly women with failing eyesight?    This is leaving aside entirely, for the moment, how angry it makes me to write about these things - drinking water, and pissing it out - as though they were not the most basic kinds of freedom, as though even political prisoners both here and abroad didn't have more and better freedom to drink water and piss it out than most of the transfolk I know do, or did at some stage. This is not engaging what it feels like to be quietly peeing in a women's bathroom and hear, after a knock at the stall, "Sir?" or pounding and then, "What the fuck?"    No matter how I pitch my voice when I answer, even when I use the most head-resonant and high-pitched voice I have available to me that doesn't make me sound like Flip Wilson on helium, I still have to open the door and show someone my ID and smile my beta-wolf smile at them, while the alpha inside me is tearing a hole in my chest trying to get out and teach them a lesson about manners and respect.    When I get harassed in the Ladies' room, or the cops are called, I can produce ID with the telltale F and add the story to my collection. Transgressing in the Gents can have its consequences, legal or chillingly illegal. Men's rooms can be more forgiving because the culture of a men's bathroom insists that men not look at the others in the restroom lest they be labeled fags. Most curious looks can be deflected with a quizzical but hostile glance that seems to convey the idea that a man looking at you as you enter might have some sort of queer gaze.    Transfolk wait for the day that they can use the restroom with members of their chosen genders without problem or comment, and swap pissing stories and methods like trading cards in the meantime. I have heard arguments made that bathroom experiences are the defining measure of trans-ness: have you ever had anxiety, apprehension, or problems using the restroom which corresponds to you assigned-sex-at-birth? Then you're transgendered in some fashion. It's not the worst idea I've heard.    The bathroom is where gender performance meets public perception with a resounding thwack, one that sometimes hurts and sometimes reverberates down my butch life in unexpected ways. It's where I have to make a public declaration and I can never be sure which one might match what people are expecting from me, and the consequences for being wrong are always so unpleasant, because the wrongness is so basic. I am wrong in the world, they're saying, wrong to have fooled them, to be a coyote among dogs and cats, to stand in gender's doorways and whistle, and they'll make me pay while my pants are down, if they can. When I use a bathroom in public, I piss with one hand on my belt buckle so I can make it into a weapon if I have to.    Tranny bladder is my saving grace."

[p-taryn-dactyl]

💖 👀 🥇 👨‍👩‍👦 🌝 🧠 💻 and 🍰 please! (Or any combination thereof. Don't feel like you have to do all of them!)

💖: What do you like most about your own writing?

I like how much effort I put into each project, no matter how long or short it takes me to write and the length of my writing. I do like how I (try) to make each one as personal as possible so it's easier and fun for readers.

👀: Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

oh absolutely!! lol. I have a few crossover fics that I wrote purely for my own enjoyment but I would literally never post them. it's hard to describe them but it's just basically if multiple of my fandoms all joined together to stop the multiverse from collapsing and they're not reader insert it's literally me, im the main character ok. I just needed to write them.

🥇: What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).

I felt really proud of me planning out my next few fics and I also felt proud of me being able to get rid of a few requests and WIPs, which sounds mean but sometimes I can't write everything and it makes me sad but im proud I was able to do that without immense guilt

👨‍👩‍👦 :Do you tell people in real life that you write fic? 

...yes. but only if I really trust them. like my best friend. but also sometimes I tell people if I know something about them that I can reveal if they tell anyone about my fanfics in an embarrassing light. yes I blackmail, it's not a big deal. (for legal purposes this is a joke)

🌝 : Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh that's a good question! there's a few from Stargate like Vala Mal Doran and then there's characters from The Vampire Diaries and the Originals like Rebekah and Caroline. but from Marvel I would say like romantically I would like to write for sam Wilson.

🧠 : What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

hmmmmm lets see. do any of my requests count I have a lot of moon knight related ideas as well as a few Kate bishop fics that have been born as bullet points but not yet grown into a WIP

💻: Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

oh hell yeah I research! I hate when I get things wrong, which happens a lot, so I tend to dive deep into a lot of different topics. For CIAFOM, I started just looking up minor gods and ended up down a spiral of articles and YouTube videos connecting the Egyptian Ennead, the Greek Pantheon, and one other major religion in the world today which just blew my mind because im actually quite interested in how religions have molded over time! there was one fic I was going to write that I had a deep dive on but it didn't work out lol, but now I know a little too much about ravens

🍰: Name one of your fave comfort fics (doesn’t have to be your all time fave).

so a lot of my comfort fics are angsty bc... I don't know why

I cannot for the life of me find it but it's a merthur fic with insecure!merlin and...smut where he and Arthur film a video and merlin hates the way he sounds and it becomes a thing where Arthur thinks merlin is breaking up with him and merlin thinks Arthur is disgusted by him

I really like fics where my favorite character experiences whump...ik its bad but I need it.

I also like a lot of fluffy fics too don't get me wrong but I don't actually have a fic that I come back to a lot...I wish I did but...

I'm sorry I didn't answer sooner! I thought I had but as it turns out, you kinda need to press post for anything to...post

thank you so much for the ask! I love answering these questions even if they sometimes make me stare at the screen trying to convince myself that I like something about my writing

[lovelybarnes]

baby blue- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, tony stark bruce banner, steve rogers, sam wilson warnings: child bucky, language, this is long. why is this so long about: requested by @cherry-season (apparently can't tag you)! bucky turns into a baby/toddler and is clingy a/n: okay so i know virtually nothing about three-year-olds. can you tell? thank you so much for requesting!! I had so much fun writing this <333

[@tylard-blog1]

bucky’s day wasn’t particularly fantastic to begin with.

he was already exhausted when he woke up in the early lights of the morning, his nightmares had kept him up all night-- which you theorized was due to the mission the day before that took place in one of the same hydra bases bucky had been held in. you had frowned when you realized it the day of, turning your attention to bucky and making sure he was okay with it because if he wasn’t, you would make sure someone else took care of it. he had insisted it was fine, even though the next night proved him wrong. you had done what you could, running your fingers through his hair and humming lightly until you fell asleep and he refused to wake you up, resigning himself to a sleepless night.

his morning started with his flesh arm reaching out to feel your side of the bed, hoping to find your soft, warm skin to pull you closer, but instead being met with the unkind sheets that missed the gentleness of your body. he had frowned when he realized you had already left for a meeting with some important hotshot in space with carol (you couldn’t find a better excuse to go get breakfast at your favorite alien restaurant with your favorite aliens) and wouldn’t be back for a solid few hours too long. groaning, and with no real reason to stay in bed for any longer without the excuse of getting to feel you for a few more hours, he dragged himself out of bed.

it didn’t get much better from there, because he was greeted with the sight of sam eating the last bowl of the last box of cereal in the whole damn tower because everyone rejected to go grocery shopping. since bucky refused to eat any of the frozen breakfasts tony loved so much and the stark kid swore were “the best thing ever,” he grunted at sam and walked away without eating, knowing he’d regret it later when his stomach would growl and you would immediately know he skipped breakfast.

for some unknown reason, tony had found out about bucky’s lack of things to do, and with a few winks and manipulative large-worded engineering phrases, convinced him to join him in the lab, which bucky had only really been able to see through the clear glass that separated the lab from the rest of the tower, and from the occasions where he would take food and drinks to you while you locked yourself away inside, building something alongside tony.

being inside, so close to the various machines and objects bucky cant begin to figure out the purpose of, his memories of being in school and at the top of his math and engineering classes bubble to the surface, filling him with the pride he remembers having every day at school. the thought that he could probably understand everything if you or tony explained it to him passes through his mind and urges him to ask tony to do just that, but tony beats him before he can get the chance.

bruce is eyeing them wearily from the other side of the lab, attention mostly on the test tubes in front of him. he gives bucky a smile when he comes in, but seems to ignore him for the most part until tony shows bucky to bruce’s work station, pointing out a blue liquid in a test tube marked TESTING. bruce’s neck snaps to them when tony open his big mouth, “you know, y/n was actually supposed to test something out for me today,” tony begins innocently, a suggestion laced in his words that bucky catches but decides to ignore because of the high he feels from understanding the equations scribbled on the clear glass, “do you know where she is?”

bucky narrows his eyes at him, then looks up at the clock, realizing it’s still a while before you get back, “not even on earth,” he recipes blandly, slyly sneaking a glance at the liquid for any indications of what it could be.

tony sighs dramatically, his shoulders sagging, “oh no, how do i test this now?” bruce shoots tony a warning glance that is blatantly ignored.

bucky’s shrugging before he can help it, the reminder that since you were going to do it, what could be the harm if he did? “i could do it.”

tony claps, “great!” he gestures to a door behind him, “please go in there to sign non-disclosure agreements and wash your hands.”

bucky’s shoved inside before he can fully understand the implications of his stupid offer.

-

the thought of asking the basic questions he should have asked before he agreed to test an unidentified liquid comes to bucky nearly an hour later, when the small vial of weird blue liquid sits in front of him, waiting to be drunk. tony and bruce sit in chairs a couple of feet away, clipboards in both of their hands, and interested expressions settled on their features.

“what does this do again?” he asks, squinting at the vial that he doesn’t notice tony isn’t looking at, furrowing his eyebrows when tony waves him off, “something super smart. no side effects or anything.” bucky’s eyes flit down to the little vial again, before they nearly bug out of his head at the humongous laser that is rolled into the room, “what the hell is that.”

“ah,” tony grins, bouncing from his seat to stand next to his invention proudly, “this is what you’re testing out.” bucky cocks his head at the man, “i thought i was drinking blue water. y/n was going to drink blue water.” tony shakes his head, adjusting some dials on the machine, “yeah, no, it was this. pretty sure i told you.”

“you didn’t-” bruce is looking at tony in concern, about to tell him to slow down so bucky has a chance to think all this through again and maybe ask if there is any chance the laser will melt him, when tony clicks a large red button and a bright white light clouds bucky’s vision just as he sees the clock on the exact same time he saw an hour ago, realizing the clock in the billion-dollar lab is broken, and you’re probably getting home any second.

“tony!” he hears bruce yell before his vision goes dark.

it’s only a second until he can pry open his eyes again, a hand curling into a fist, ready to pound stark into tomorrow when he can suddenly feel the nails of his hand digging into his palm. the surprising feeling of it where his vibranium arm should be forces him to look down at a small arm, fully skin and thin. he looks around, noticing his surroundings suddenly have grown very large around him, and the sound of his voice is higher when he tries to speak again.

“what the f-” he mumbles, cutting himself off when a sudden memory of his ma yelling at him to wash his mouth out if he wants to talk like that floods his mind, and he stares down at himself, eyebrows furrowing when he spots his short stature and the tiny hands and feet that look up at him. realization floods him like a wave, raising his chin at the two, tall, gobsmacked men in front of. “was that supposed to happen?” bruce asks quietly, nodding slowly when tony shakes his head, “no.”

there’s a light knock at the door, your hand pushing it open before anyone can stop you, and your tired face peeks in, a glowing smiling adorning your face and your eyes searching for your boyfriend, “hey, do you guys know where bucky is-” your voice cuts through the stunned silence, pausing when you catch the little boy’s eye. at first, you stare at him, your eyebrows pulling together as you get a good look at the familiar cerulean of his eyes and scan the clothing you’d seen on bucky before. for a second, everything is silent, bucky’s eyes are wide and staring as yours bore into them, searching for something you’re nearly touching until you gasp, “bucky?” you choke, reaching for him when he nods, his legs already trying to reach you as fast as they possibly can but they buckle. bucky realizes just then how old he must be now. “oh, baby,” you murmur, gathering him up in your arms before he can fall to the hard ground of the lab. “what the hell did you idiots do to my boyfriend?” you demand, turning to the two scientists who are going over tony’s notes.

bruce glances at tony, tilting his head at him as if to say him. you roll your eyes, not having any more information than when you asked, “tony?” you growl, walking over to the man, not missing the way little bucky’s hand grabs onto your shirt.

“it didn’t- that wasn’t supposed to happen,” tony defends weakly, a lazy shrug pulling at his shoulders. your eyes flash with velvet red, and, without moving a finger, tony’s pulled in front of you, wrapped in red swirls bucky can’t help but gawk at.

“fix it.” you order. tony nods, pursing his lips, “we’ll do that.” bruce looks a little taken aback, looking up from tony’s scribbles and equations. “i don’t think it’ll last more than a day,” he offers helpfully, “whatever it was tony was trying to do wasn’t either.”

bucky’s eyes start to droop, which he assumes is an effect of the sleepless night he just had on his infant body, something that usually wouldn’t affect him in his one-hundred-and-six-year-old self. he hums when he realizes the irony, leaning his head against the welcoming crook of your neck and catching your attention. you turn to him for a moment, softening a little before turning back to tony and glaring at him, “fix it.”

-

steve catches you when you walk out of the lab, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head when he spots the toddler in your arms, “holy shit, that looks exactly like bucky,” he breathes, scanning the dark mussed-up hair and stepping back when bucky opens his eyes. from next to him, sam looks from bucky to you, “did you two have a kid and not tell anyone, because this-”

“is bucky. that’s bucky.” you interrupt, looking at the toddler, “tony messed up with something and… this happened, i don’t completely… bucky’s a baby.”

steve raises an eyebrow, squinting at his best friend, “ha,” he laughs, “wow, he looks exactly like his pictures. he must be about three years old.” bucky blinks at him. “his ma said he was chatting up a storm at that age, though,” steve informs, looking back up at you. sam grins, “has he said anything? i kinda want to hear if he still sounds old.” bucky frowns at him, his pout deepening when sam bursts into laughter, “his grumpy face is the same!”

you look at your boyfriend, tilting your head and smiling a little when you realize he’s right, “you’re cute,” you coo now that you get a good look at him, “you’re so cute,” you murmur, poking his nose with your finger. bucky can’t help the blush that comes to his cheeks. but he slaps away sam’s fingers, scowling at him, “no.” he argues, “no.”

sam frowns, “no old man voice.”

“i hate you,” bucky says to sam, and you laugh, “i think we should leave for now. i need to figure out what will make three-year-old bucky not as grumpy.” sam looks at bucky’s furrowed brows and the same two little lines between them, his eyes flickering back up to yours, “i think that may just be a bucky thing.”

-

you bring bucky to the living room, sitting him down at the edge of the couch and crouching in front of him, watching him and his little crossed arms, bottom lip jutted out against his own will. bucky isn’t used to the emotional control of a child who’s three and can’t control the frustration that’s coursing through him at the moment. the only thing he knows for sure is that he doesn’t want you to leave him again.

“bucky?” you start, looking deep into the wide blue eyes that let you know it is bucky you’re speaking to. “what do you want to do? are you hungry? d’you want to sleep?” bucky shakes his head stubbornly at you, “i want tony to fix this.”

you sigh, “i know, baby. i do too, but until he finds a cure to this, you’re gonna stay small for a couple more hours.” he pouts at that, and you smooth your thumb over his cheek, “no pouting. we can do whatever you want, buck.”

just as he’s about to reject any idea you have, his stomach rumbles loudly, directing your attention to the arms that guiltily cover up his middle. “bucky... did you eat breakfast today?” you query, a lecturing tone sneaking into your words. “sam ate my cereal,” bucky grumbles, crossing his arms.

“bucky!” you exclaim, standing up to turn to the kitchen, “that’s no excuse. i told you you needed to eat--” you’re barely three steps into the kitchen when you hear the pattering of his feet towards you, grubby hands pawing at your legs.

“don’t leave,” he whines, hugging your ankles and sitting down on the floor, “you left all morning,” he mumbles, smushing his cheeks against your calf.

“i’m sorry,” you apologize, bending over to brush away the hair that falls over his eyes. “c’mere,” you murmur, reaching down to pick him up again and bounce him on your hip while you head to the kitchen. “what do you want to eat?” bucky thinks about it for a minute, before smiling, “i want pizza and ice cream.” you frown at him, “i don’t think three-year-olds can eat that. actually, i don’t think anyone should.”

after consulting google on what three-year-olds should eat, you have bucky’s head resting on your shoulder, refusing to let you put him down even as you made him the mac and cheese he had agreed to, still a little upset over the fact you wouldn’t let him eat all the other things he wanted. the only time he let you not carry him was when he was eating, still insisting you sit right next to him to watch as he smeared cheese all over tony’s expensive table.

“okay,” you whisper breathlessly after watching him eat his third bowl of the meal, “i think that’s good.” you shove the dirty dishes in the sink, washing bucky’s hands and wiping at him cheeks with a warm cloth to get the mess he managed to create off. “did you forget how to eat?” you wonder aloud when you finally fnish cleaning him up, watching his small shoulders shrug.

“what do you want to do now? anything you want,” you propose.

“i want you,” he says, reaching his stubby arms out, “cuddles. ‘m sleepy,” he yawns, making grabby hands at you when you take too long to pick him up. “bucky,” you chuckle, complying with him and bringing him into your chest, where he leans his head on your shoulder. “you sure you don’t want to play or something? you don’t want to…” you trail off, trying to think of what three-year-olds do, “walk or read or something?”

bucky grunts in your ear, his eyelids already closing again, “cuddles,” he repeats, balling your shirt up in his little hands.

“okay,” you sigh, bouncing him gently while you walk to your shared bedroom. you pick up a stuffed animal you brought for bucky from one of your most recent missions, “did you sleep last night? is that why you’re so tired?” bucky hums, cuddling further into your chest when you lay down with him on top of you. you hand him the little dog plush, pressing a kiss to his head when he takes the gift, hugging it with you. “honey, i’m sorry,” you frown, gently threading your fingers through his short hair, humming the same song bucky sings to you when you can’t get to sleep. it doesn’t take long to lull him into the calmness of rest.

you only wake up when the weight on you is suddenly multiplied, completely taking your breath away, “bucky!-” you exclaim, rolling from underneath him to meet his closed eyes. you shake your head with a light laugh, drawing a strand of hair behind his ear before you press your lips to his cheeks, snuggling in with him again, “sweet dreams, darling,” you murmur, placing the stuffed animal he dropped on your dresser.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Could I request a Bucky Barnes x reader smut? Basically she and Bucky have been together for some time and maybe it’d be a little angst where the two are talking about the future and Bucky not thinking he can ever have a normal future? Which would result in soft smut and later reader being revealed as pregnant so Bucky finally gets his family

I’m Home

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary | based on the request ^^

Warnings | angst, smut, oral sex (m receiving), fluff, pregnancy, mentions of death

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

The Wilson’s boat rocked sturdily upon the water, swaying as the boats worked aboard. Your hand held the weight of a silver spanner, twirling it in your fist as though it were a knife, thinking of the long road ahead of you. Sam had the shield now, that was a good start, but still, there was a ways to go until the world recognised him as the captain that he was meant to be.

There was so much destruction ongoing in the world, what with the flag smashers, and whomever the power broker was, and surely, you knew on the shallow surface, that there would be masses more problems to arise. It was exhausting, to know that there was no end to the war on earth, and that you were surely going to be fighting the threats until you could no more.

Bucky felt the same; he had just gone from one war to another, losing everyone that he cared about along the way. Steve had given everything up to finally find peace, and yet, the two did not share the same opportunity. An escape was never laid at your feet, instead, the pair of you were trapped in the cycle of cruelty, being blended around in a shredder by reality.

“Hey.” A voice confiscated you from the lonesome containment of your thoughts; it was Sam’s hosting sister, Sarah. I’m her own way, though you doubted that she would never admit such a thing, she was a hero. She had become a widow, and not to mention she remained a stable mother to keep her boys afloat, as well as nurturing half the kids that lived within close proximity.

“Hi Sarah.” You put the tool down, giving her your ample attention as you stood, tugging your fingers into the loops of your jeans as you stepped out of the boat, and onto the dock. “Anything I can help with?” It hadn’t passed your attention that Sam and Bucky had disappeared, but not into ash like last time. Instead, they had walked off in the direction of the house, most likely meddling about with a ball, in the back yard with Jim and Jody.

“I just came to let you know I’ve made the sofa up for you and Bucky. Are you sure you’ll be all good, I could always kick Sam outta his bed and make him sleep on the living room floor?” The two of you had nightmares, if you were to be separated from him for even a night, it was certain that the pair of you would greatly suffer. That was something you didn’t want to burden any of the Wilson’s with, screaming in the middle of the night because flashes from your past struck an unconscious nerve.

“All good, and thank you Sarah. You didn’t have to let us stay here, we both appreciate it, a hell of a lot.” One thing that you had learnt throughout your years was to show gratitude. The smallest amount shared had the ability to spring up moods, and had even set you on a much more heroic path than the one that you had been originally been placed upon.

“You’ve earned your stay.” Sam’s sister shrugged with modesty, acknowledging the help that you and Bucky had not only given to Sam, but to her family’s legacy. The two of you had aided with fixing the old wreckage that had now returned to the form of a boat, keeping it afloat rather than permitting it to sink from the quarrels that Sam had with himself regarding fixing the damned yet meaningful port of transport.

“This life you have, it’s great. I get it’s not easy, but it’s beautiful. You have two wonderful kids, that you’ve done such a great job raising, and not to mention, these community that you have is so loving and kind, even to us outsiders.” The pair of you had paused outside of her front door, speaking. “Sam is lucky to have you, he truly is.”

“Well, maybe one day this life could be something similar to what you’ll have.” The sister of your friend smiled, though your mirroring expression retracted. In a stumble of thought, you shook your head, not believing that possibility. This all was... perfect. That was something that you had never had, nor would you think that you’d ever be permitted such a peaceful lifestyle.

“I don’t think that would work out.” You sincerely mumbled, feeling the sad swelling in your chest at the prospect of all the luxuries that life had denied both you and Bucky of. It wasn’t fair all the same, but the two of you were used to being denied human rights, let alone the simplicity of nothing more than a life together. “As nice as it sounds, me and Buck aren’t really cut out for all this I suppose.”

“The world does not choose who can and cannot have a family, there’s always a way. Just because you haven’t had the most ideal line of story does not at all mean that you can’t make it work, from as much as i know, you two deserve a life together, that doesn’t include being shot at, or shooting at other people. Sometimes, you’ve just gotta go for it, and hope for the best.” She gave you a final nod, before heading inside, and you trailed after her into her her residency.

The two of you went your separate ways, and there, you saw Bucky, sat up on the sofa, his hands clasped together as his eyes stared towards the tan bag, that concealed not the shape, but the Stars and Stripes of the infamous shield. It was much a relief that it was no longer in Walker’s toxic clutch, however its presence, among other things, were taking a clear toll on your boyfriend.

“You ever feel like we’re stuck?” The air was tense around you both as he spoke solemnly, it diverting to match the mood of his question. “Like we’re us, and I love us, but it makes me think that it’s it. Just me and you, on this path for the rest of our lives, never getting a compensated break, nor an average person’s future. I want this, what these people here have, not the combat that is aided by this metal arm, or the associations that stick to us like life lines.”

“All the time, it’s on my mind James.” With a sigh, you came to sit beside him on the couch, resting your head against his bionic shoulder. “I ever wonder if there’s a timeline of you and me where there’s none of this ruckus, we just have a nice little house in a quiet and accepting place, and maybe a kid or two in the future.”

“I’d give anything up for that.” He looked at you, almost wide eyed, as his hand slithered down onto your knee cap, rubbing small circles as he wore a blunt and endearing smile upon his infatuating lips. “I mean that Buck, that sounds...”

“Perfect?” He asked, leaning closer as he grabs your chin with his wondrous fingers, his nose brushing alongside your own as his puckered lips fell upon yours, earning a small hun of content from within you. “Because you’re perfect to me, and no matter what life we are encased in, I want to share it with you. I want stare at the night sky and watch the moonlight illuminate the side of your face, and the stars reflect in your entrapping eyes, that I want to look into like a medium’s orbs forever, because that is how I will see the future that I ever so hope for.”

“How long have you been working on that one Barnes, because you are usually not that smooth?” A small laugh erupted from your mouth, but you were quickly silenced as you felt a cold metal hand slither up and beneath the back of your tank top, rubbing along the seam of your spine, as his lips ran down the column of your throat, evoking small and delicate whimpers out of you.

“Shut up doll, because I really want to fuck you now, and those words leaving your mouth are making it kinda hard to concentrate.” A furrow imbedded between his brows, as you tilted your head at him, a smirk proclaiming your expression as you pulled the material over your head, and reached behind yourself to unclip the back of your bra.

“Kinda hard to concentrate, hun?” You asked nonchalantly as his gaze zeroed in on your bare breasts, his hands smoothing along your ribcage as he adjusted his grip of you so that he was palming at your breasts, and squeezing the nipples. “I want you in me baby, I’ve practically gone days without you inside of me.” Licking your lips, you reached down to palm your beloved through his layers, earning a positive groan from the former assassin.

“Hours, you mean. I fingered you on the road trip here.” Yes, that was true, however, it was only his fingers, not even the metal ones, and whilst you loved what they alone could do, he had to be discreet as you were sat on the back of the truck, which had carried the primary parts for the Wilson’s family boat. If you were to scream out, they’d have surely thought that you’d fallen off the back of the truck and pull over, or if they had much sense, they’d have noticed that there was more going on than two passengers sat side by side on the journey to their small neighbourhood by the docks,

“You heard me Barnes, otherwise I’m sure Sam wouldn’t have any problem if I came to his room in this state of undress that I am currently portraying.” Growling was never Bucky’s fortes, however the sound aggressively ripped through the tunnel of his throat, as he threw off his grey top, quickly unfastening his belt, as he awaited for you to strip the rest of your clothing before him.

But rather than doing so, as he stood before you, your hand had trouble resisting the sight of his cock that had bobbed to attention, and thus, you wrapped it around his toned flesh, giving it a couple jerks that had his head reeling back, before you tongued his tip, moaning to yourself at the taste of him invading your sensitive taste buds. “Love your cock.”

As soon as you said that, Bucky gently gathered your head in a ponytail so that it was free from bombarding your face, and groaned as quiet as he could as you sucked him in your mouth, running your tongue up the side of his shaft. “Is that a part of your dream world baby doll, the sight of my cock throbbing to be inching down that perfect little throat of yours?”

To answer him, you pressed your head down deeper, humming around him as your eyes ogled up at the sight of your super soldier, who was trying his hardest to keep his eyes open, and attuned to the sight of you. He held his bottom lip between his teeth, as you lightly gagged around him, pulling off him, and squeezing his balls, before running your hungry tongue along the middle of his sack.

“Always. It would be a dream if you made love to me right here and now though, I’m not sure I can wait any longer James.” Bucky took a long inhale, before ravishingly pulling down your jeans and panties in one go, and tossing you so that he was below your form, and you hovered over him, toying with his erect cock. “I love you so much Bucky, and I’m scared of what’s to come. I have a feeling that there’s gonna be a fight.”

“There’s always a fight doll face.” He rubbed his thumb soothingly across your jaw, pulling your hips down closer so that you were rubbing your slick folds against his standing cock. “But this is what we’re fighting for, the rest of our lives together. I’d be damned, one day after this, and if I were to die, I’d be a happy man. There’d be the memory of you to keep me forever happy in the afterlife, and not to mention, there’d be no more wars for me to participate in.”

“I’m not going to let you die Buck, even hypothetically. We saw how your little hypothetical synopsis went last time.” Tapping his cock against your clit, a breathy sound evicted from your lips, as you stared down at the two of you intimately touching, the sight alone making you more turned on and impatient. “No one is allowed to kill you, otherwise I’ll unleash hell on all their flag smashing asses.”

Giving him one last stroke, you guided his tip towards your entrance, removing your hand once you had him situated, so that you could rest it upon his sturdy shoulder, and sink down on him, the feeling of him stretching you being the most euphoric sensation that you had ever endured. Hushed moans ceased from the both of you, as Bucky’s hands gripped your ass cheeks, only adding to all of the pleasure that was erupting within you.

“Think your pussy is gonna kill me before anyone else does; your so tight.” His pitch had rose, as your fingertips danced along the left side of his handsome face, invisibly connecting the dots of his beauty marks. You allowed the pair of you to adjust for a simple moment, before you began to raise your hips, sliding up his super soldier rod, only to slide down it again.

The actions were repeated, as your own hands trailed down his warm skin, to drag down the golden lines of his vibranium arm, only to bring the weapon to your mouth, and kiss every black finger up, as you tried your best to muffle the moans that were hoping to reap free. “So fucking big, I love you and your cock.” You muttered, your sight turning blurry as Bucky realised that it was his turn to do the work, and thus, he thrusted up into you, making echoing sounds of your skin slapping together reverberate around the room.

“Love you more.” He gritted his teeth, pulling his metallic hand away from your numb lips, so that he could swirl the elegant digits around your clit, the action provoking whimpers to rapidly surpass your exterior, as you bit harshly onto your own lip, and screwed your eyes shut. “Cum for me doll, want you to cover my hard cock in everything you have. Come on baby, you can do it.”

Without much thought, as your mind was too scrambled to do so, you reached for Bucky’s spare hand, pulling it to your mouth as you sucked on his fingers as though you were blowing him. A low moan that was dialled down from the presence of his flesh digits, ran from your mouth, as you began to bounce your hips, chasing and eventually reaching your high. You came around him, pushing him too over the edge, his seed filling your walls, as you collapsed atop of him, huffing from exhaustion as you removed his salivated hand from the realms of your mouth, resting your head against his panting chest.

Stringed sighs fell from Bucky’s breath as he tried to catch his own breath. His hands rubbed your back, not only to comfort you, but also to subconsciously pull you closer against him, and his softening cock that was still inside you, and was keeping his cum plugged within your tender and pulsating walls. If life was easier, there’d be more time for this, and that, but for now, it was just every now and then. Maybe you’d win this fight and survive until the next one, but maybe, you’d lose and never battle again.

Life was precious, that was something that you had not only learned as an avenger, but also something that had been told to you by Isiah. That man thought that you deserved a normal life, no fighting, no super soldiers. He himself was the biggest yet silent critic of those with additional strength, but his opinion was never going to sway you, not as you stared out into Sarah’s backyard, and watched the man that you loved play with the boys.

They had the shield, and were whisking it through the air like a frisbee; dangerous, yes, but again, life could only amount to so much without an ounce of pain. A content and satisfied smile absorbed any pain on your face, you were enraptured with the sight of Bucky like this, he was like an uncle to these two kids. He was no captain America, that was for sure, but you didn’t want a man in Stars and Stripes, all you wanted was him to be at peace, and it was a fact unbeknownst to him, that you had made such an alternative to that.

“Still want all this?” Sarah emerged, a cheap yet formidable bottle of wine pursed in her hand, as she held two clear and tall glasses in her hand. You hummed, watching as she poured the thin red consistency into one glass, but as she went to fill the other, you held out your hand, shaking your head. The woman was confused, last time you had visited, and were entangled on her sofa with the limbs of your boyfriend and a shaggy old blanket, you had kindly accepted her offer.

“Sure do.” You sighed, staring out into the green abyss where Jim was hanging from Bucky’s arm like it were a branch. “How do you do this, this whole mother thing? I’ve never been able to wrap my head around how you make it look so easy, it’s just, you do such a good job.” Your palms rested flat on your thighs as you laughed at Sam ordering Jody to jump on Bucky’s back, as he fell down in faux defeat.

“It never is easy y/n.” She placed the open bottle down, along with the mismatched glasses, that were asymmetrical considering one was half filled and the other wallowed in emptiness. “But every step of difficulty is worth it. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t miss their father, but they’re my priority. For Jim and Jody, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do, and you’d understand that if you ever opened yourself up to giving your life of heroism up to have all this.”

“I might have to.” Twiddling with your fingers, glancing up at your boyfriend, realising that he was in fact not looking over, you clasped your intwined hands over your stomach, smiling softly to yourself. “And maybe not having another option is the best option for me and Buck, because we don’t have to fight with ourselves over being included in our duties, we have new ones.”

“You’re pregnant, aren’t you?” Sarah asked, resting her nurturing hand upon the tile of your shoulder, prompting you to turn your face towards her. There was a conflict in your eyes, it was something that she recognised her younger self having once worn. It was the idea of putting everything aside, all for a child, everything that she had ever known, so that she could put her baby boy first. “Does Bucky know?”

“He will.” You shifted your head down, unsure of yourself. This had been what you had wanted, and whilst you still envied Sarah for the role she had, you were hurt. A part of you wanted to be an avenger until you were nothing but a soul drifting in the abyss of non existence, another didn’t want to let the knowledge of being a carrier for a new future crumble you. “I just need a moment to tell him.”

“I’ve got it.” She sent you a wink, picking up the items she had brought out, before she called on Sam and the kids to come inside. Sarah had gifted you the opportunity of revealing the truth to your partner with no one else around; you appreciated that. As he stalked closer, you met him halfway, sinking into his arms as he hugged you.

“Looked like you were having fun with the boys.” You verbally noted, loving the feeling of him running his fingers through your hair. “You’re amazing Bucky Barnes, to me and to everyone. I just, don’t want you to freak out on me, I have something big, really big, to tell you, and-“

“Baby, I know.” He smiled, pulling back so that he could look you in the face. “I have super human senses, I heard their little heart beat for the first time yesterday. We’re having a baby, and I couldn’t be happier about it. In fact, I want to ask you if you’ll accept my question of making Sam the godfather.” You nodded, tears standing in your eyes, as you brought the man down for a kiss.

“Yes. But I’m not sure that he’ll be praising us for making a baby when we technically created him or her on the couch inside.” Bucky shook his head at you, kissing your forehead before walking inside with you, preparing to tell the Wilson family, that had along the way became your own, the good news- well, not the sofa bit.

[the-bau-quinjet]

My Only Girl

Summary: request! Reader has to decide between keeping her secret and saving the man she loves. In the end, it's not a hard choice.

Warnings: violence/blood

Word count: 3370

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this one! I put a screen shot of the request at the end just because I didn’t want to give away the whole story :)

You never would have guessed that today would change everything. It started the same as any other Thursday. 

You were seated at your desk right outside of Tony’s main office working on his schedule for two weeks from now. Your music was playing softly through your earbuds causing you to bob your head as you read email after email. 

Suddenly, a Starbucks cup appeared in front of your face, a metal hand wrapped around the cup. 

You swiftly pulled the earbuds from your ears, turning in your chair to greet Bucky with a hug. 

“Hi.” You whispered into his chest during your hug. “You are truly a gift.” You smiled, taking the cup with your go to order. You press a quick kiss to his lips only to be pulled back in for a deeper kiss by Bucky. 

“Y/N, do you know when my next press conference is?” Tony asked, walking out of his office while still looking down at his tablet. 

Bucky let you pull back from him just far enough to answer Tony. “Next Thursday. You wanted to announce the new post-mission protocol for ‘Damage Control’.” You chuckled at the title, knowing Pepper was still trying to talk him into changing it. 

“Right! Thank you.” He finally looks up, taking in the sight of you in Bucky’s arms. “Barnes! Let her work.” He nearly whined, playing up the annoyance. 

“I will.” Tony leveled him with a pointed glare, looking between you and your computer. “I will! I just wanted to say good morning to my best girl.”

You scrunched your nose at the term of endearment, leaning farther back from Bucky to look in his eyes.

“You don’t like being my best girl?” He sounded genuinely concerned, earning a small chuckle from you. 

“I like being your only girl. Best implies that there are others, and though I would love to be the best of them, I don’t want there to be others.” You nodded your head resolutely, taking on a serious expression. 

“Please, you’ve had this man wrapped around your finger from the second he saw you.” Tony scoffed. 

“He’s right, doll. And you are my only girl. I love you.” Bucky pressed a quick kiss to your lips, letting you remove yourself from his arms to continue working. 

“I love you too. See you for lunch?” He nodded as he walked backwards to the elevator, keeping his eyes on yours until the doors closed.

“Wrapped around your finger, I swear.” Tony laughed when you glared at him, retreating back into his office to make some phone calls. 

-

Sometimes it’s really easy to pinpoint the exact moment everything went to shit. This was one of those times. 

22 minutes before you were due to meet Bucky for lunch, the red emergency lights started flashing with an accompanying alarm blaring in your ears. 

Friday announced “The compound is under attack, enacting lockdown protocol.”

“Shit.” Lockdown meant you needed to use specific codes to get into or out of any room. It definitely makes your life harder. 

Tony left to meet Pepper 15 minutes ago, so to your knowledge you were the only one on this floor. 

Glancing up and down the hall to double check, you swiftly enter Tony’s office, pulling up the security footage to see who you’re dealing with. Three different sides of the compound are surrounded by mercenaries clad in black fighting gear. 

You watch the screens, contemplating the best course of action to subtly help when one of the mercenaries pulls out a missile launcher. He aims it quickly, firing into the side of the building. 

You feel the walls shake as you watch part of the wall collapse, giving them an opening to enter the compound through. 

“Shit.” You run from Tony’s office, heading for the action without another thought even though this is definitely the biggest problem you’ve ever helped them with. 

You phase through the walls, doing your best to make sure nobody will see you when you come out on the other side of the wall. If all goes well, you’ll be back at your desk before anyone even notices you were gone. 

Your powers are a secret, even from the team. The powers that be, meaning your boss, don’t want the Avengers knowing they have an Angel on their side. It took you enough negotiating to get yourself assigned to this “project”, you were willing to do it without telling anyone that you are a angel. 

You basically had to beg your boss to let the Avengers be the people you watched over. Typically, angels are assigned to help those who can’t help themselves. Your logic for this assignment was that keeping the Avengers safe would, in turn, protect millions of other people. 

The one stipulation you faced when finally being assigned the the Avengers, was that you couldn’t tell them what you are.

At first, You had no problem keeping the secret. Being Tony’s assistant hardly meant spending ample time with everyone. You didn’t need to befriend them to keep them safe. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

Overtime, Tony broke down your walls. He convinced you to go to one of his galas, ultimately starting your demise. One look at Bucky had your heart soaring. Not telling him the truth has been eating away at you ever since he first asked you to get dinner with him. 

You pushed your guilt to the back of your mind, refocusing on getting closer to the attackers so you could figure out what to do. 

Typically, you use your powers to slightly change the path of bullets or hold off a bomb for a few extra seconds. It gives the team enough time to escape, not necessary unscathed, but with recoverable injuries. Plus, it keeps your powers hidden. 

It’s hard enough to hack into the video feed from various super suits without alerting anyone, you were definitely concerned about how to keep your powers hidden while using them so close to everyone. 

You skid to a stop just around the corner, listening as two of the mercenaries instruct the others. 

“Split up. You know who we’re looking for. If you find him, report in. First priority is getting out of here with him alive. All else fails, kill him.”

Immediately, you’re mind jumped to Bucky. Of course, Hydra scrum could be looking for anyone to use as a weapon, but Bucky made the most sense. When would they finally realize they can’t control him anymore?

You used your powers to confuse the men, making it look like whatever blueprints they studied were outdated. It would hopefully give everyone else enough time to get here and fight them off. 

You hid in a closet when you heard people approaching from behind you. 

“Sam, find Wanda and get to the east side. Nat and I will handle these guys.” 

You relaxed at the sound of Steve’s voice, waiting for the group to disperse before sliding out of the closet.

You ran back through the compound, heading for the lab. It was the closest place for you to retreat to in order to look through the security cameras again. 

“Friday, give me a rundown of what’s happening please.” You looked between the screens, intently listening to the AI’s voice. 

“The east side is being secured by Ms. Maximoff and Mr. Wilson. Based on projected outcomes, they will have everything under control in 7 minutes. Captain Rogers and Ms. Romanoff are fighting on the south side, near the blast sight. They will have the area secure in 6 minutes.”

You nodded, following along as you looked between the cameras. 

“The west side is secure. Mr. Stark and Mr. Barton have cleared the area and are holding off any additional attacks.”

“Good. Where’s Bucky?” You looked between the cameras, but couldn’t find him. 

“Sergeant Barnes is on the roof, engaged in hand to hand.”

“What the hell is he doing on the roof?” You panicked, clicking between camera angles until you could see him. 

There were ten Hydra agents on the roof, surrounding Bucky as he did his best to fight them off. 

“How did he get singled out so fast?” You mumbled to yourself, trying to think of a plan. They had Bucky backed up to the edge of the roof, slowly pushing him further and further. 

You could see what was about to happen nearly in slow motion. You acted quickly, not thinking about keeping your secret, but rather solely focused on helping Bucky. 

You broke through the window in the lab, wings appearing on your back as you flew to him. Just as you arrived, one of the agents shot him three times, propelling him backwards off the roof. Sending a shockwave over the roof, you knocked out the remaining agents as you dove, hurtling through the air to catch Bucky before he hit the ground. 

You grabbed him around the waist, lugging his body through the air with some difficulty. It wasn’t the most convenient position, plus you were slightly rusty from hiding your wings for so long. 

“Doll?” Bucky questioned, glancing at you through fluttering eyelids. “I knew you were my angel.” He whispered before his eyes fell closed, the blood loss getting to him. 

You swung around the building, re-entering through the broken lab window and laying Bucky on the lab bench. 

“Lifting lockdown protocol.” Friday announced, the noise barely registering in your ears. 

“Ms. L/N, Captain Rogers is requesting a check in from everyone on the team, would you like me to update him on yours and the Sergeant’s situation.” Friday asked. 

“Yeah, go ahead.” You muttered, not really paying attention to the question as you did your best to slow the bleeding. You haven’t tried healing anyone in years, so it was taking more effort than it should for you to fix this. 

You closed your eyes, hands hovering over Bucky’s body. Your wings were still present, although no longer fully extended. 

You channelled everything you could into healing Bucky’s wounds, drowning out any outside interference. Your hands began to glow, a warm golden light surrounding Bucky’s body as his bullet wounds healed. 

A few minutes passed as his wounds fully healed. You nearly collapsed from the relief of seeing him no longer bleeding out. His color was returning to normal, heartbeat speeding back up. 

“Y/N?” You jumped at the noise, turning around to see nearly the entire team staring at you. 

Your eyes went wide, hand still clutching Bucky’s as you stuttered in an attempt to come up with an explanation. 

“You have wings.” Wanda pointed out the obvious, everyone still wearing matching expressions of shock. 

You looked over your shoulder, nearly surprised by their presence on your back yourself. You had been so focused on healing Bucky, you forgot to hide them again. 

“Your hands were glowing.” Sam’s brow furrowed, looking between you and Bucky. 

You nodded, still unsure of what to say. 

Suddenly Steve barged into the room, unaware of the tension. He ran right for Bucky, yelling for someone to get a medic. 

“Why are you all just standing there? Friday said he was shot! Three times! Get a medic!” He looked at everyone in a panic before turning to look for wounds on Bucky. 

His brow furrowed as he tried to find any of the bullet wounds. “Wha- Where are the bullet wounds... He’s covered in blood, but not bleeding? Even we can’t heal that fast, what’s going on?” Steve turns back to the team, mouth slightly agape. 

They all point to you. 

Slowly, Steve turns finally noticing your presence. “Y/N?” He looks between the team and you again, a double take so fast it would have been funny if not for the situation. 

“You have wings?” He says it with much more confusion than Wanda’s point blank statement. 

You nod, voice still eluding you. You finally manage to get the wings to disappear. 

“Care to explain...” Tony asks, pointing to where your wings just were, your hands, and Bucky, “All of that?” 

Before you can reply, Bucky jolts awake with a groan. 

“What the hell?” He looks around the lab, taking everyone’s confused faces. Even Nat looks surprised. “How did I get here?” He rubs his abdomen, slightly sore from the bullets. 

Everyone shakes their heads, looking to you for answers. 

“Y/N?” He turns to you, hand squeezing yours slightly. “You were an angel. I thought I was dying...” He trailed off, trying to makes sense of everything in his head. 

“An angel?” Steve balks. Everyone else nods, various expressions of understanding on their faces. 

“I mean, that makes sense.” Nat chimes in, ready to accept it. “Wouldn’t be the weirdest thing that ever happened.”

“What?” Bucky asks, sitting up on the counter. “She’s not actually an angel. I just saw that as my... I don’t know, dying wish?” His face scrunched in confusion, trying to make sense of what he saw. 

“Well, I’m not dying and I saw the wings. And the glowing hands.” Clint speaks up, turning all eyes back to you. 

A voice in your head is suddenly booming. Your hands fly up to the sides of your head, trying to dull the ache of the screaming voice in your mind.

“Y/N L/N, you have broken the only rule bestowed upon you. According to contract 71, you are no longer permitted to enter the Angel Realm. Any attempts to return here will result in termination of your capabilities. Misuse of your capabilities on Earth or any other planet will result in termination of your capabilities.” Your boss’s voice was instantly recognizable. 

You didn’t notice the team crowding around you while you doubled over in pain, rubbing your temples as the message repeated. 

“Ugh, why did you have to say it twice?” You suddenly stared up at the sky, annoyed with the whole system. 

“Um, who said what twice?” Banner finally entered the lab, having been avoiding any anger inducing scenarios. 

Before anyone could jump in with what little knowledge they had, you started talking. 

“My Boss.” You winced, looking at Tony as he raised a brow. “My other boss... well, I guess not anymore. My former other boss.”

“Which is...” Tony gestured for you to continue. 

“Maybe you should all sit down, this could take a while...” 

Everyone followed as you lead them to the kitchen and living room. 

“Okay, I’ll just jump into I guess.” You took a deep breath, looking around the room at everyone’s curious and slightly impatient expressions. 

“I’m an angel.” You nodded, trying to reassure yourself that it was okay to say out loud. 

“Yeah, and? We figured that one out fifteen minutes ago.” Tony huffed, wanting more information. 

“Four years ago, I found out about the Avengers.” You looked at all of them, nervous for their reactions. “Angels are supposed to protect those who can’t help themselves, but I wanted to protect you all.”

“Why?” Steve asked, eying you curiously. 

“Would you all stop interrupting and let her explain!” Wanda whisper yelled, gesturing for you to continue. 

“It’s a valid question. Um, I guess I just thought you all put your lives on the line to help everyone else and I wanted to do what I could to help you. I convinced my former boss to let me come here. I told her protecting you guys would protect all the people you were bound to save, and that’s a lot of people.”

Everyone nodded, seemingly taking in the information. 

“I wanted to tell you. I really did, but it was my only rule. I wasn’t allowed to.” You nervously wrung your hands together, biting your lip as everyone took in the information. 

“That’s why it’s former boss?” Nat questioned. 

“Yes. She fired me?” It was a question to your own ears. “I’ve never heard of an angel being fired before. That kinda sucks.” Everyone chuckled at that. 

“And that was why you doubled over in pain in the lab?” Bucky questioned, concern in his voice. 

You nodded. “Yeah, she has a habit of yelling in my head. And she always says everything twice.” You glared at the ceiling again, knowing she had probably moved on from you already. 

“You’re not mad?” You looked back at Bucky, practically forgetting about everyone else in the room. 

“You caught me after I was shot off of a building and then healed my three bullet wounds. I think you’ve made up for the secret.” Bucky smiled, pulling you into his lap for a hug. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.” 

You nearly burst into tears at the relief you were feeling. “Oh thank God.” You squeezed him as tight as you thought he could handle, needing to feel him close to your for a second. 

You then turned to face the rest of the team, giving them an equally nervous look. “Are you guys mad?”

“Well, I didn’t get any magic healing.” Sam huffed, a smile on his face. 

“Nobody flew me around the compound.” Tony added on. 

“But, you can fly?” You gave him a confused expression. 

“Dammit” Tony muttered, thinking on his feet. “Tell you what, tell me what else you can do and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal... Maybe we can meet back here in half an hour?” You looked at their bruised and bloody bodies. “You all look like you could use a shower, and I for one would love to get this blood off me.” You gestured to the blood covering your jeans and shirt.

-

A half hour later, you were back in the living room. Tony ordered pizza, everyone crowding around the coffee tables and couches. 

“Alright. Get to it!” Tony called out, excitement clear in his voice. 

You stood up, turning to face the crowd. “Well, you know about the wings.” Your wings extended from your back with a woosh, spreading out before settling in a resting position. 

You heard various mutterings as everyone took in your wings in their full glory. You then floated slightly above the floor, wings gently flapping to keep you suspended. 

“How’s it feel birdman, her wings are part of her.” Bucky jested at Sam, a proud smile on his face.

“Yeah, well mine are bulletproof.” Sam sneered, a smile on his face. 

“Actually,” you winced, “Mine can be bulletproof. Basically, I can do whatever I want, but only for short periods of time. Like if someone surprise shot me, it would hurt. But if I was prepared, it would bounce off.”

“Wow.” Steve looked at you, a mixture of surprise and wonder in his eyes. 

“Um, I can also walk through walls, create shockwaves, move things with my mind, hack into any computer- although it takes some actual knowledge to not leave a trail... I mean, I’m pretty strong, but I don’t have much training for fighting hand to hand or anything. Oh, and mind manipulation? Not like mind control or anything, that is definitely frowned upon. Just... like earlier I made the Hydra agents forget the blueprints so they wouldn’t be able to get around the compound as quickly.” 

Everyone jumped in with questions. You answered every single one, talking well into the night. You did your best to give examples of your powers, like moving the rubble around to fix the giant hole in the south side of the compound. 

After a few hours, Bucky cut in. “Guys, she’ll still be here tomorrow. Wait, you will still be here, right?” He looked at you in a panic.

“Yes, unless you all want me gone, I’m here to stay.” You smile at them. 

“Good. Now as I was saying, she’ll be here tomorrow. Ask her the rest of your questions then. Hell, make a list if you want. Just let me take my best girl to bed.” Bucky pulled you up from the couch, leading you out of the room. 

“Goodnight!” You called back to the team before turning to Bucky. “What did I say about being your best girl?” You playfully hit his side. 

He pulled you into his arms, hugging you while you waited for the elevator. “I’m sorry. My only girl.”

“That’s better.”

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman

[blackqueenofhearts]

Do you think John Walker is intimidated by Sam?

I've been fascinated by that scene when John Walker bursts into Zemo's safehouse and orders Sam and Bucky to turn Zemo over to them. The fascinating thing about that scene is that it's Sam who stands to faces Walker while Zemo and Bucky both slowly take up positions behind Sam.

It's Sam who tells Walker that the only thing he was running in that room was his mouth and that he was overstepping. That he's done more harm than good and that Zemo was actually the useful one. It was obvious that no one in that room was going obey Walker's authority unless Sam agreed to it. Walker is slowly beginning to recognize that Sam Wilson is really the one who is calling the shots. Sam is the one who decides if they work with Walker or not. Sam was even the one who decided they were going to work with Zemo. Sam was the one who decided how they were going to deal with Karli.

Which is why it's funny that John Walker always addresses Bucky when he's trying override Sam's authority. This is fascinating because Bucky rarely interacts with Walker except to snark and only really listens to Sam. He had to beg Sam just to work with Zemo and I wondered what would've happened if Sam had refused. The only time Walker was able to manipulate Bucky into following his lead was when he implied that Sam could be hurt dealing with Karli by himself and it would be Bucky's fault. However, before that--- Bucky was guarding the entrance to the funeral like a guard dog when Sam asked for ten minutes. Hell, Bucky didn't help Walker with the Dora Milaje until Sam kinda made him.

So when John Walker put the shield down and basically implied that they should fight for the shield to find out who was really in charge? Sam just rolled his eyes because that was literally some caveman shit-- and how is that a solution to anything? It's because John Walker is literally Captain America and no one was respecting his authority. However-----they are respecting Sam's. Hell, even Battlestar sides with Sam some of the time and he's loyal to Walker.

This series is constantly reminding Walker that the shield and costume doesn't make him Captain America. That not even the super serum will really make him Captain America. Hell, even the original Captain America gave his legacy to Sam-- and maybe Walker is finally able to see why. Sam is respectful even to his enemies and John Walker walks around acting like everyone should bend the knee. Sam can go toe-to-toe with Super soldiers and non-super soldiers alike without a bruised ego and Walker is cracking like an egg. He obviously can't handle the pressure or the responsibilities of being Captain America.

It's also obvious that Sam can. That's why he should be Captain America.

[azumasoroshi]

DGS 2 London Side DLC

just started watching like. the one video translating these and OH MY GOD IS SHOLMES GONNA BE THE DEFENSE LAWYER FOR IRIS AGAINST BAROK????? WHAT???????????

and ryuunosuke gets to be the competent judicial assistant this time i'm assuming

this is gonna be great i can feel it

omg iris gets her own hold it?? or at least i assume it's a hold it since it's not iyai

OH NOOOOOO WE DONT GET SHOLMES' PERSPECTIVE goddammit

ryuunosuke i love you but PLEASE i need to know what's going on in sholmes' head

i guess they don't want to reveal that he's actually a genius or show his real thought process to keep the mystery of whether he's really smart or a fucking idiot but i was excited for that :( oh well

"What on earth are you doing here, amateur detective?"

"Whatever do you mean? ...Reapy."

im telling you there is SOMETHING up with the way they talk to each other it's the exes energy i swear to god

oh my god it definitely wasnt a murder trial was it ahskdgJHDJHGSD sholmes is giving off real phoenix wright energy right now

"For the [impropriety?] of reaching for the Lord's chalice after failing to find another outlet for my anger...I beg for your indulgence."

ahh so that's the more direct translation of "forgive the discourtesy of filling my hallowed chalice"

we are 3 minutes into trial and this man is already done six ways from sunday

not ryuunosuke telling sholmes to look at the court record when we're not even in control of him asdkhgKJDHGSDKJKHJHJDS

OHH yeah i guess he's saying it to sholmes but hes really saying it to us cuz we have to look at evidence n stuff

omg the notes on each evidence are in sholmes' perspective too

why is the pocketwatch in the evidence lmfao i dont think ryuunosuke gave that to you sholmes

watch him just grab it from ryuunosuke's pocket when it's needed

oh barok's name is translated as baroque that's kind of interesting

oh something was stolen from van zieks office?? if it was wine im gonna laugh so hard why would you convict a ten year old of stealing wine

LMFAOOOOOOOOO sholmes' perception of the world is so fucked

"terrifying" help oh my god

I CHOKED he knows barok fucking hates him

aww the person playing said this is basically all we get of hurley's perspective that's so sad ugh

"The only suitable punishment for such an atrocity would be submersion in hellfire!" damn barok really said gay people belong in hell

racist and homophobic what's next capcom

"Looks like we were too late, Mr. Naruhodou. He already threw his first chalice." like 7 minutes into trial dawgggg this is the worst day of barok's life second only to The Incident while Sholmes is having a fucking blast

"[Iris' charge] was...um. Serial murder!"

"It sounds as though you've got yourself a rather thrilling roommate, great detective." are they ever going to refer to each other by their names or what

i love how herlock is like "i look forward to hearing what weird thing you'll say next" if you get the answer wrong bkjDGKSJDGhsd literally encouraging you to make the wrong choices we stan a good dad

"Honestly, what must [Iris'] parents be like if this is how she turned out?" BAROK........BUDDY.............….thats such rich kid dialogue he’s such a rich kid

"[Reapy], I really don't think you should say such things so lightly." SEE EVEN HERLOCK OBJECTED TO THAT AHSUDGKSDJH barok come on man

is he taking personal offense to that as Iris' basically-dad or is he taking offense on iris’s parents’ behalf

"The item that was stolen was incredibly special to me." i have a feeling it's related to Him but for now im still sticking to it being wine

imagine if it was a black pocketwatch the chaos that would go down

Barok: "[The girl I saw] was, without a doubt, Iris Wilson."

Sholmes: "Are you sure about that? She doesn't have many distinguishing features, after all."

bro have you seen your daughter

oh it was his chalice :sob: yeah that's basically his wine

barok maybe you just tossed more than one chalice into the fire than you recall maybe that's it

oh it was his FIRST court chalice i seeeee baby's first time being drunk on the job

"I guess there can only be two types of memories associated with [your chalices]. "Should I throw it", or "Should I crush it"?"

[Barok throws his chalice right after crushing his last one two animations ago]

"I can't anticipate what the truth will be at this point in time. But we musn't allow that ruddy criminal to get away with this!"

was it sholmes. did he steal the chalice

that line sounds kind of sus ngllllllllll

"Sholmes-san sounds pretty confused..." homie doesnt even know what a cross examination is oh god

(source: x)

[therenlover]

In Fleeting Touches & Airy Sighs Chapter One (A Three Chapter Helmut Zemo/Reader Fanfic)

(Thank you to the wonderful anon who requested angst and smut between Zemo and the reader because Zemo had to be away from her on the run!)

Synopsis: A year after working together with Zemo in the events of Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Sam and Bucky seek him out once again in need of shelter from John Walker. Meanwhile, Zemo’s wife resents his absence and prepares for guests.

Tags: Flashbacks, Depression, Alcoholism, Separation Anxiety, Arguing, Struggling Marriage, Reunions

Rating: T (E in future chapters)

Warnings: Guns, Swearings, Reader shows signs of alcoholism/alcohol abuse, Reader uses a hot shower as a mild form of self harm

Word Count: 5000~

This fic has been crossposted under the same title to my AO3!

----------

Helmut Zemo was not often a man backed into a corner.

He was smart, resourceful, and had nothing left to lose. If it came down to the line, he would do whatever had to be done within his morals to achieve his goals, even if that goal was simply staying alive. The Baron bowed to no man, and made his enemies, no matter their size, fall to their knees with sheer wit instead of brute strength. That’s why, when he stood backed into an alley with the barrel of James Barnes’ gun to his forehead as the Falcon watched on, it was strange that he didn’t try to weasel his way out.

“We need answers,” Sam said, hands in the pockets of his dark hoodie. Bucky wore a similar one, only he wore a baseball cap instead of keeping his hood up. “How the hell did you break out of prison for a second time?”

Usually, Zemo would have replied with a clever quip. He had never been one to back down from a fight. This time, though, he looked almost frightened as he raised his arms in defeat. “I got in contact with friends on the outside during our short adventure together. They decided to help me out once I was re-incarcerated, willingly I might add. I had no part in the plan, but who would look a gift horse in the mouth?”

“And I guess I’m just supposed to assume you had no part in getting my pardon revoked?” Bucky spat.

“If you hadn’t noticed, James, I’ve left you alone,” A hint of his usual mockery slipped into Helmut’s tone, but he quickly pulled it back, “Believe what you want about me, but I’ve had some time since last year to… re-evaluate my feelings on the world. You had no choice but to do the things you did as the Winter Soldier, and as long as you pose no threat to society now I have no qualms with you,”

Despite the strangeness of Zemo’s response Bucky remained unphased. Sam, on the other hand, was less stoic.

“Man, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but the government is looking for Bucky and I harder than they’re looking for you, and it’s kind of all your fault, so excuse me for not giving a shit about your supposed sudden change of heart!”

“Can we get to the point? I’m afraid my flight leaves in an hour and I would hate to be late,”

“Cut the bullshit!” There Bucky went, pushing the cold metal closer to Zemo’s furrowed forehead.

“Bucky...” Sam warned.

“No, Sam, I can do this. Did you or did you not actively attempt to get my pardon revoked when you took us to Madripoor? Because thanks to you, a worse symbol than Sam is now standing unchecked with the title of Captain America AND he has access to the last of the new super soldier serum AND he’s trying to get us killed so we can’t tell the world about the awful shit he does,”

“I-” Zemo went to speak and, for the first time since he had met him, Sam believed he was being genuine. There was a tremble that made its way through him, all the way to his raised hands and even his voice. It was enough that Bucky even lowered the gun minutely. “I understood that by following my lead, the both of you were risking a lot. I didn’t intend any specific malice with my actions though, no. If I may… the two of you have attracted a lot of attention here in the past few days. I assume Walker is very close to finding you?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look before Sam responded. “Maybe, why?”

“I have a safe house,” he continued, “I don’t stay there often so the location isn’t compromised, but it’s my next stop. Might I suggest we take this conversation on the road? I would hate to host your reunion with Mr. Walker in an alley over my corpse,”

There was a moment of complete stillness. Zemo remained, face dark with that strange deer-in-headlights look, a perfect statue, as the barrel of Bucky’s gun remained pointed firmly in his direction and Sam shared what seemed to be a completely silent conversation with Bucky. It was true that they had been burned before. Zemo was a man with his own agenda who did what it took to fulfill it. That being said, he had returned willingly with them back to prison before he was broken out, and without his help, the band of freshly minted super soldiers would still be running around Europe causing chaos. In the end, Bucky lowered his gun slowly before tucking it away into his boot holster.

Zemo grinned.

“Don’t think this means we trust you,” Sam groaned, pointing a finger at the man.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Now, gentlemen, I believe we have a plane to catch,”

As the trio began to make their way out of the alley Bucky and Sam fell to the flank of the group. “Do you really think this is a good idea?” Bucky asked, eyes darting between his two companions. Sam shrugged.

“At this point, I’m doing whatever it takes to get home to my family in one piece. If that means I have to ride in Zemo’s stupid private jet again and lay low for a while, then that’s what I’m gonna do, because Sarah and those kids don’t deserve to lose me all over again,”

“But don’t you think he’s acting a little… weird?”

“Don’t worry, I have my eye on him. If he tries anything we can just throw him out front when Walker tries to shoot us,”

“You’re doing a very poor job of concealing your conversation,” Zemo shouted.

Bucky stormed ahead as Sam laughed.

“Oh, shut up!”

Surprisingly, the drive to the airstrip was mostly uneventful, as was the relatively short flight from Zurich to Avignon. There was, of course, the usual cutthroat banter and tension so thick you could feel it like a fog hanging over the group, but in an unusual twist of fate, the baron did very little to initiate. Of course, he wasn’t fully innocent though. He never was. That being said, even as his chauffeur carefully navigated the stone roads to the dropoff point he was strangely quiet. He had texted someone earlier to have the house prepared for their arrival but he kept looking down at the phone as if a response would come. It didn’t.

Sam appreciated the break from the noise. To him, it was a moment of peace after a few months of constant opposition. For the duration of the trip, he had chosen to shoot a few choice quips Bucky’s way before taking a long nap. Bucky, on the other hand, was only growing more suspicious of Zemo by the minute.

After his time with Hydra, Bucky had become intimately acquainted with the type of man that Zemo was. He was ruthless, driven by ideals that couldn’t be changed by any amount of debate or theory read inside a prison cell, and willing to do whatever it took to fulfill those ideals no matter the cost. There was remorse but no regret. A man like that doesn’t just stop believing in the thing that led him to kill dozens if not hundreds of people, because once the impetus is gone so is the only thing upholding their sense of self.

In basic terms, he was hiding something. Bucky was intent on finding out what that thing was, a thing important enough to make Zemo of all people shut the hell up and tell his enemies exactly where his safe house was, and he wasn’t going to rest until he did. The answer came easily enough in the end, but not before Sam and Bucky were forced face to face with the strangest thing they had ever seen, even when including aliens and wizards. That thing was Zemo buying flowers.

The trio had gotten out of the car somewhere around the center of the city and continued towards the safe house on foot. A few minutes after they started, though, Zemo had spoken.

“I apologize, but I’ll have to stop for a moment,” He said, holding up a hand to alert the two men trailing him to the fact that he was about to stop. Sam quirked up an eyebrow.

“At a flower shop?”

There, to the right of them, was a small fleuriste. The window was a burst of bright color. Pinks, reds, whites, purples; a certain bunch of spring blooms had caught Zemo’s eye. He shrugged. “It’s rude to arrive at someone’s house asking for a favor without a gift, Mr. Wilson. Excuse me,”

With a comfort that said he had been into the shop many times, Zemo walked through the door and began conversing with the shop owner in perfect French, even referring to her as tu instead of vous as he made his purchase.

“Did he just say someone’s house ?” Sam asked Bucky, eyes widening.

Bucky gritted his teeth. “Yeah, I think he did,”

“So, we’re just showing up at someone’s door,”

“Yup. Not to mention they’re someone who aligns themself with him,”

A groan escaped from Sam as he ran his hand down his face in disbelief. “I didn’t expect much from Zemo, but damn,”

“It’s your fault for expecting anything from Zemo in the first place,”

“For once, you’re right,”

They dawdled for a moment. As their conversation stilled, Zemo returned, now burdened by a sizable bouquet from the window. Around them, the city was starting to get off of work. Families walked together as businesses had their 5 o’clock shift change. Somehow as the world around them came to life it didn’t look at Sam and Bucky with anything more than a passing glance. They were tourists, nothing more. For a moment Sam understood why Zemo would go to a place like this for safety and anonymity.

Without ceremony, the trio began walking towards their destination once again.

“I apologize for the delay,” Zemo said, keeping his pace brisk and remaining about a foot ahead of his companions, “I suppose it’s become a bit of a habit that I buy Y/N flowers whenever I come back. We shouldn’t be long now, though, the house is just a few more blocks away, maybe 3 minutes by foot,”

“Y/N?” Bucky asked. The name felt heavy on his tongue, familiar. That had to be a coincidence though. Zemo would never align himself with anyone who had worked for Hydra, and there was no other place he could have heard that name and had it hold any significance. Right?

Zemo chuckled. “Y/N is our host. I’d appreciate it if you tried to maintain some semblance of respect when we arrive, she tends to have quite the temper and it would reflect badly on me if she believed I was asking her to indefinitely house two people who would happily send her to prison,”

“About that,” Sam chimed in, “Who the hell are we about to be staying with? It’s not that I don’t trust you, but I don’t, and by extension, I also don’t tend to trust people who trust you,”

“I assure you, Sam, Y/N is more trustworthy to you than I will ever be,”

“That doesn’t answer my question, nor does it make me feel any better,”

“She’s American, and like you, she is seeking shelter from the government. Isn’t that enough for you?”

“Man, at this point I feel like you’re not telling us because she’s actually some sort of crazy Sokovian sleeper agent who’s gonna stab us in the back while we sleep. Am I crazy, Buck, or am I right?”

Bucky, who had been trying his best to stay out of the conversation, replied. “You are being unnecessarily evasive, Zemo, though that’s nothing new…”

“Right? Like, I’m really grateful that you’re lending us a hand, but I’ve gotta be honest, if I think for a second things are going south-”

Sam never got to finish his sentence.

Suddenly, Zemo stopped short, turning around and looking Bucky in the eye with a madness neither he nor Sam had ever seen before. His whole body was stiff, rigid. The hand that wasn’t cradling the flowers delicately was gripped in a fist at his side. He looked angry, but underneath the anger, he really just looked scared. “You will not touch her. Do you hear me? Do what you’d like with me, I have made choices worthy of punishment, but you will not touch Y/N. If you so much as think of it, all bets are off. Do you understand me?”

Bucky nodded, sharp. This was certainly interesting. Sam just smirked.

“Is there something else you want to tell us?”

Zemo walked up a small set of stairs towards a home to their right. “No, Mr. Wilson, I don’t believe so,”

The building was a nice one, all tan stone with dark wrought-iron fixtures on its many windows. It looked, for all intents and purposes, like a normal midtown manor-house for some upper-class member of the community. The normalcy of it all hid its true purpose in plain sight. It was genius, really. Over a dividing wall made of the same yellowing stone, Sam could see a small sliver of vibrant green garden space and a pool at the side of the building.

With a steadying breath, Zemo knocked on the door.

“You have to knock on the door of your own safe house?” There was a hint of incredulity in Bucky’s voice as he crossed his arms. This was going to be a disaster. Why had they agreed to this again?

“A little etiquette goes a long way, James, especially when you’re already in the doghouse,” Then, the door opened.

Bucky froze. There, standing in the doorway with a pistol in her hand and a fire in her eyes, was a woman he thought long dead: you. This couldn’t be right! He had killed you back in ‘02 with the rest of the AAHR...

You quirked up an eyebrow at Zemo.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,”

They were so fucked.

________________

The day, on your end of the world, had gone by much slower.

It started off like any other, with the alarm on your bedside table blaring as you opened your eyes and your arms reached out into the emptiness in the sheets beside you. Sometimes, when Helmut’s flight got in late enough, you would wake up and reach to the side only to find that he had appeared beside you in the night. Those were the best kind of reunions. They were free of pretense, no bitterness or resentment clouded your sleep-heavy brain when you opened your eyes to his peaceful resting face, and you could simply fall into the comforting rhythm of husband and wife. If you reunited with a clear head things tended not to go as well.

You groaned. It wasn’t as if there was even a guarantee he would come back, especially not after the way you’d left things last time. The philosophy of attendre et espérer, waiting and hoping like an Edmond Dantés type, wouldn’t do you any good, at least not anymore.

Maybe it was time to start moving on…

Tomorrow. You could start thinking about the next steps tomorrow. For today you’d enjoy what you had.

Getting out of bed was difficult but you managed. The sun streamed through the curtains that billowed gently in the breeze near your balconette, brilliant gold beams illuminating the dust that danced in the air. The first thing you did was shuffle along to the corner and pour yourself two fingers of brandy from Helmut’s private collection. It was like a morning ritual these days, a numbing agent against the loneliness. Once the drink was downed you moved on to the closet to get dressed.

Dressing yourself wasn’t of much importance these days. You couldn’t exactly leave the house, and nobody was visiting, so more often than not, it was easier to just wear the same pajamas for a few days until you knew Oeznik would be around to drop off groceries. Today, though, you felt… filthy. Not dirty in a physical way, just sticky and filthy and unclean under your skin and in your very heart. Maybe a shower would help.

You looked around the closet with a clinical eye. It was difficult to be in there, surrounded by lavish dresses and expensive suits that you and your husband had worn arm in arm while plotting the downfall of the Avengers before your unsteady alliance had turned into so much more. Everything still smelled like his cologne. In the small, often-closed, walk-in closet, the scent had only intensified, covering every article of clothing with a fog of cedarwood and sage. It made you sick, choked the air from your lungs and left you gasping for even a single breath that didn’t sit heavy on your tongue with the bitter taste of that familiar musk.

The alcohol had helped. It always did. The remnants of its burn in your mouth formed a sort of guard against the scent of the closet as you searched through a pile of shirts for something soft and easy to wear. Your hands suddenly stilled.

“Zemo, I’m gonna be honest, this is the ugliest sweater I’ve ever seen in my entire life,”

“I’m hurt! That’s one of my favorites,”

“Where did you even get it, a 90-year-old grandpa’s closet? Jesus Christ, it looks like something out of a shitty 70’s flick about family values,”

“I’ll have you know that I thrifted that sweater. It’s very eco-conscious you know,”

Your heart hurt. Well, no, your whole body hurt, but your heart ached a little more prominently as you carefully picked up the sweater and held it to your chest. It was terribly ugly, 4 sizes too big even on Helmut and covered in an olive and forest green argyle. Somehow he was always able to pull off the oversized thing no matter how ridiculous you had always insisted you found it. When was the last time he’d worn it again?

The memory evaded you.

Still, it was a happy relic, happier than most of the monuments to a failing marriage that lined the shelves of your beautiful personal prison. It wouldn’t hurt to hope that by wearing it, you might rub just a little bit of that lost happiness off onto your present-day, right? With one last forlorn glance around the closet, you gathered up the sweater and a pair of jeans before getting out as fast as you could. With the scent of cologne clinging to you, the shower wasn’t just a good idea now, it was necessary.

So, you showered. You took the stupid foot-long exfoliating brush Helmut loved so much and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed yourself under the near-boiling stream of water until your skin was pink and raw. Disappointingly, even the new skin felt filthy. It was better, though, less intense. With some lotion and a little bit of Neosporin on the fresh patches of blotchy red, you were able to feel okay. Not good. Not clean. Just… okay. At least you didn’t smell like him anymore. The clock read 12:14 when you finally made it out of the bathroom in search of some real food.

Lunch, if you could call it that, was a silent affair. The fridge was almost empty and the pantry was only a little less bare, so you threw together a cheese sandwich, not even bothering to waste butter and grill it. You ate it plain with another glass of brandy out on the pool deck. It was gone sooner than you hoped it would be.

Oh well.

You finished your brandy with a sigh. Only seven or eight more hours until you could finish your day with a few more drinks and pass out in bed until nine or ten once again. Ah, dreamless sleep. That sounded divine. Now if only you could fathom any non-depressing way to spend the time between sleeping and waking. Swimming was out, the chemicals would burn your freshly eviscerated skin. Playing solitaire for the fourth day in a row sounded like absolute hell on earth. Even watercolors, a usual calming respite from the torturous and neverending monotony of life trapped alone in a house you had no help in stocking, were off the table ever since you’d run out of paper.

Somewhere inside the house, your phone dinged.

The second the sound hit your ears you jumped, dropping your glass and letting it shatter into a thousand tiny shards on the stone of the patio.

Phones were a difficult thing to own for someone who was trying to stay out of the eyes of the government. They were too easy to track and could tip off enemies to your location with very little error needed on your part. Even searching the internet for innocent things was too risky. If your search history was too similar to that of the alias you had used before Helmut went to prison, it would have been easy for them to find a connection and send someone to track you down. Still, you kept a cell phone charged and ready on the kitchen counter despite the risk for one reason and one reason only: Emergency contact with your husband.

He never texted from the same number on more than one occasion, always switching from burner phone to burner phone as he flew across the country doing god knows what, but if he was ever in a situation where emergency contact with you was needed, he was able to reach you at your number immediately. It had only happened a couple of times, and each time he had been in a considerable amount of danger. So, when you suddenly heard the sound you dreaded more than anything else in the world, you were quick to rush inside, even ignoring the shattered glass at your feet as you shoved through the doors and found the phone.

The small, LED display was lit up with the notification. It made your heart both soar and sink.

Flying home with two guests. Prepare the two rooms for their stay. We will be there by 5 at the latest - B

You read over the message several times before letting the phone fall from your hand and back onto the counter with a dull thud.

That absolute asshole.

Three months. Three months you had spent sitting alone. Three months without a call, or a text, or a letter, or even a word of when he was coming back by way of Oeznik. Three months! And after three months of loneliness and sleepless nights and empty bottles on the drink cart he reaches out through an emergency line of contact that almost certainly means he might be dying only to tell you he’s bringing two strangers into your safe house, the place even he refuses to stay in too long in order to not give its location away. The scar on your spine was starting to burn as you leaned up against the counter and cried.

It was ridiculous to think you had ever believed him capable of more tact than that.

Really, it was your fault. From the beginning, you’d had too much faith in a man incapable of being trustworthy, even to those closest to him. You knew that, and yet you had married him. Maybe the soft touches and sweet lies he had spoon-fed you had made you weak. Maybe you always had been.

“I’m not a child, Helmut, I know what I’m doing!”

“I don’t think you do,” he shouted. He was a few drinks in now, you both were. The nights before his departures never tended to end well when you both drank. “Because no matter what I do to protect you, you have the need to disobey me! Have you considered that I do the things I do for your own good!”

“Oh! Oh yes, the things YOU do!” You slammed your glass down on the table as you stormed over to Helmut, “I sit here all day like a fucking dog in a cage while you fly to fucking Ibiza and flirt with supermodels, but YOUR story is just so fucking tragic! I’m your wife, Helmut! I’m not an animal or your property, I’m your goddamn wife! You can’t just order me to sit and stay like a dog,”

He glared down at you, eyes hawkish and glinting in the low lamplight. For the first time in years, he looked threatening, “You may not be a dog, or a child, or my property, but you are a weapon! It’s my job to keep you here, away from the-”

“Excuse me?” You interrupted. The two of you stood, inches away and yet miles apart. Slowly, the drive in Helmut’s eyes faltered. “Say that again. I dare you,”

“Schatz, I-”

“No, Helmut, you meant it so say it again. Call me that again. I fucking dare you,” Tears were streaming down your face now. He took a step towards you, hand extended to wipe them away, but you were quick to take a step back out of his reach.

“You misunderstood me,”

“I don’t think there was anything to misunderstand,”

You swept the shards of your glass tumbler into a dustpan, hands still shaking even ten minutes after you’d read Helmut’s message to you. As you worked, your last conversation before he’d left echoed in your mind.

How had it all devolved into that? It wasn’t hard to remember Helmut before prison, jaded and broken and lonely. He had been so much like you and yet so different. Each of you seemed to be the perfect balm for the others' wounds. In the end, despite all of his flaws, you had found yourself in love. Now that he was a different man, was that love gone? You couldn’t say. All you knew for sure was that you weren’t nearly drunk enough to be facing the confusing feelings in your brain. With the last of your energy, you emptied the dustpan of glass into the trash can and returned to the house, sweater itchy against your irritated skin, to ready the guest rooms.

The job wasn’t a long one. You had never used the guest rooms in all the time you’d spent at the Avignon property, so the sheets were already clean. There was just a thin layer of dust on the furniture that needed to be swept away as you checked to make sure the dressers were bare and the bathrooms were stocked with amenities. Then, when that was done, you were left to your thoughts as the hours ticked by.

Most of the time you spent sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. It sounded terrible, and in all honesty it was, but what else could you do? The house was already spotless so cleaning wasn’t an option, and you didn’t quite feel like doing much of anything as you stared at the clock and tried to remember a time when your life was less of a disaster. As it got closer to five, though, you started to get antsy.

You had tried your best to not think about the obvious issue of the guests. Zemo was not the type to threaten his home, even if he wasn’t happy with you, so usually having anyone who wasn’t Oeznik or another paid lackey aware of the location of your safe house would be a big no in his book, but then you started thinking of the implications of him bringing people into your home. Your home, not his. Was he on his way to kill you? It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Or maybe he was bringing your replacement.

Now that thought made anger bubble up in your throat. You were no stranger to the idea that when your husband was away, he could be doing anything. There was no guarantee when he slept in lavish hotels or drank the night away in elite lounges that he kept his wedding ring on. The fact that there were two guests meant it was unlikely he was bringing two mistresses, but never impossible. Nothing was impossible when it came to Helmut.

No, it was more likely he had finally decided it was time to end your suffering. The shouts and boisterous laughter that started to sound directly outside of the front room window only confirmed the for you. Slowly, you crept towards the door and grabbed a small pistol from its place in the umbrella stand. If he wanted you dead you weren’t going to go without a fight.

Through the curtains on the front door, you could just barely make out the trio. When you saw them your blood ran cold. It was one thing if he needed help to take you down, but getting the Winter Soldier on board? Your rage only grew by the minute.

Helmut said something, probably planning the best course of action to catch you off guard, and you sneered. Two could play at that game. When he knocked on the door you opened it calmly and held the gun with your finger just barely ghosting over the trigger.

Everyone froze.

“Give me one reason I should let you in and not shoot you on the spot,” you said, rage coursing through every nerve in your body. You may have been in retirement for quite a few years, but you still knew how to handle a gun. Everyone there, except maybe the Falcon, knew that. As Zemo went to open his mouth, you prepared for a firefight.

“Because I brought you flowers,”

-------------

a/n: Sorry that only one chapter is out! The fic is just getting very long and complicated and I wanted to make sure you got as much as possible before the next episode drops lol. I’ll be working pretty much nonstop from now until then, though, so the next parts should be out soon!

TAGLIST: @tatestripedsweater​ , @elaineygrace​, @multiyfandomgirl40​ ,  @lovelymischief​ , @rami-malek-trash​ , @dazzlingseb​, @avgravy​ , @sarahsilver , @wh0re-4-techno​ , @forcebros​ , @sugarsweetkiss​ , @grandmuffinsharkbailiff​ , @killsandthrills​ , @novasstudy​ , @thnksfr-ptrkstmp​ , @inmate-marmalade​, @alanathedeer​ , @mossybank​ , @simsiddy​ , @xxspqcebunsxx​ 

Please do not post my work on other sites, thank you!

[authoressskr]

october is it’s own magic

End of September

Characters: f!plus size reader, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, James Rhodes, Pepper Potts, Pietro Maximoff, Clint Barton, mentions of Maria Hill, Phil Coulson, and Nick Fury

Warnings: Language, no Beta, basically this is me writing for myself   ::    Notes: this will be a series. i will be posting it (hopefully*) every day until Halloween. And thanks to @firefly-graphics for the use of the divider!  ::   Word Count: 1700

Soulmate AU. Bucky has a secret admirer. They keep leaving him all sorts of autumnal goodies with little notes. But who the hell is it?!

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post, translate, or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

When waiting one night outside a Hydra encampment, hoping to catch a delivery being made in two days time, Bucky, Steve, Jim Morita, Junior Juniper, and Happy Sam Sawyer are all huddled around a tiny fire talking quietly while the others are doing rounds watching the camp and the only road into the Hydra setup.

“I hope she’s blonde,” Junior says as he takes a long sip from the metal cup between his mittened hands, the fire light casting dancing shadows on his face. At least they’re mostly blocked from the winds here.

As always, talk has turned to their soulmates. Gabe Jones is the only one to have met his out of their group, and honestly whenever they get a moment to breathe or they’re stuck waiting Hydra out, most of their minds turn to it. Steve probably more than the others since he’s holding out some high ass hopes that Peggy is his soulmate.

“I know Bucky’s type,” Steve singsongs, peeking like the little shit he is over the rim of his cup. Bucky rolls his eyes as he takes a stab at the last bite of his dry sausage on his plate.

“I don’t have a type, punk,” Bucky throws a little water on his plate and fork, giving them a quick scrub with the lukewarm water from the pot by the fire and shaking them dry before shoving them back in his pack.

“Sure you do! I mean, you aren’t too picky when it comes to who you’ll take out, but you have a preference. Brunette dames with brown eyes always seem to be the ones you pay more attention to. That and the ones who make you work a little harder for it.” Bucky stares at Steve like he’s grown a third eye, blue eyes slightly widened as Jim and Happy chuckle over the two best friends.

“I mean, I like brunettes...but I’m open to anything,” Bucky finally gets out, switching to a sly smile. “We know you like brunettes.”

“Jerk,” Steve mutters, his fingers going automatically to his pocket where his watch sat.

“So what would she be like if you could choose, Bucky?” Jim asks as Junior refills all of their coffee cups. Bucky inhales, pursing his lips while he stares at the flames and really thinks about it.

“I would like her to be brunette...maybe a lighter brunette with those red pieces that catch in the light. I don’t care about eye color, I just want them to show me all her emotions. Curvy. Not like curvy back home, with a tad extra hips and breasts...nah, I’m thinking more like those younger looking Italian ma’s...breasts that overflow your hands. A soft belly and a handful of ass. I always thought of a more oval or round face when I pictured her. Cute little nose. Everything is always soft when I think of her, even her smile when she looks at me. But she’s got a backbone, won’t take my bullshit.” Bucky snaps out of it a bit, shaking his head and looking up at Jim. “You?”

“Want me a nice California girl. Good cook. Long hair. Likes dogs. Wants to help me in the orchard with my family.”

Bucky, Steve, and Junior all nod their agreement, settling back into silence like when they’d been eating. Steve moves a little closer to Bucky, stretching his booted feet closer to the small fire before dropping his voice down for just Bucky to hear, “I didn’t know you wanted a heavier woman.” Bucky just smiles ruefully at his best friend.

“I thought before that maybe it was ‘cause of the Depression, ya know. But it’s still what I think about when I think of her. Just soft and round, I guess.” Bucky finishes lamely, looking from Steve back to the fire.

“No shame in it,” Steve nudges Bucky with his elbow. “I always wanted someone healthier, vivacious, who would see me as a man and not a sickly burden.”

“You were never a sickly burden, Steve.”

“To you. But women, they - well, want tall, broad shoulders…”

“So what you are now?” Bucky says with a grin, elbowing him back.

“I guess…”

“It’s okay. You and I have been talking about this since we could grasp what a soulmate was.”

“Do you think it’ll change any more after the war, Buck?”

“Nah. I think this goddamn war just solidified what we all really want. And pal, if we survive this all, I won’t stop til I find her.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from your stupid, persistant ass,” Steve agrees with a snort of laughter into his coffee cup while Bucky polishing off his own with a hard eyeroll.

All of that comes flooding back in an instant when Bucky is sat at the conference room table in Stark Tower memorizing the layout of the lab on the screen, when you slip in and quietly hand papers to Natasha. Dear God, he almost lets out a loud groan.

You’re like his dream soulmate come to life! Holy shit!

He knows he can’t *subtly* reveal his soulmate mark - it’s right above his right ass cheek after all - but he’ll fucking do it. Subtle or not.

You have cute little bangs that draw his entire focus to your eyes. God, it’s like this perfect blend of equal parts soft blue and a light green - more blue than an old Coke bottle - with these little spikes of amber or honey, he can’t decide the color right now, around the pupil. It’s not hazel, he is sure about that...in fact he knows that he’s seen eyes similar - usually more green and with a dark brown - a couple times in WWII, but not really since. When your eyes lift from where Natasha is pointing on the paperwork to meet his gaze, he’s trying to remember how to breathe. He watches as your cheeks pinken a little and you hastily drop your eyes back down to the paperwork. Dear Lord, you’re perfect. Not exactly how he pictured, but if he’s 100% honest, you are so much better in the flesh than anything he could dream up in any muddy forest in Europe.

You give Nat a small nod, then slip back out of the room, with his eyes following your every move.

“Well, if Bucky is done glaring and drooling over the analyst…” Sam snarks out from the front of the room, pursing his lips and raising his eyebrows at Bucky, who morphs his face into an actual glare at the birdbrain.

Clint looks over at Bucky, twirling his pen between his fingers as he shoots him an unreadable expression before his lips twitch up into a smirk at Bucky.

“I bet $200 that you can’t get her to have a conversation with you in the next two weeks,” Tony grins, cheeks round as his brown eyes challenge him.

Bucky doesn’t say anything, just smirks at Tony.

“Go ahead and continue Sam, Bucky is plotting,” Steve asserts with a smile and shake of his head.

“Planning,” Bucky corrects with a wolfish grin, completely missing the side eye that Natasha and Clint share.

A couple of days later, Bucky struts into your office with Steve’s paperwork and his own from the Sam-led mission. It had taken him about twenty minutes to find you in the staff database after the meeting, relishing in the sound of your name on his lips once he’d succeeded.

A soft knock has you looking up from your paperwork, and Bucky has to fight back a little whine at how beautiful you look and how small, almost delicate-looking, behind your desk. “Hi. I’m Bucky, Bucky Barnes. I have the paperwork from the mission for you. Mine and Stevie’s.” You smile a little brighter at him when he says Steve’s nickname like it’s amusing that he calls him that.

“I know who you are, Sargeant,” You rise, hand-stretched out for the paperwork, as you flush a light pink. When you are right in front of him, hand still stretched out, though now a little unsure is when he decides to turn on the charm, his mouth stretching out in an easy smile that he knows works on the fairer sex. It just makes you wrinkle your nose a little in confusion. “Um, the paperwork?”

“Of course,” He purrs, handing her the small stack of papers. “Are you doing anything tomorrow night?” Bucky asks finally, licking his lips before his smile returns full force.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the briefing room, Sergeant Barnes?” She queries softly, looking over at the clock on the wall.

“Huh?” Now he wrinkles his forehead, confused about this interaction and the - oh shit.

“For the next mission? The intelligence-gathering one in Nevada?”

“I forgot!” He starts moving out of the doorway before he remembers his question. “I’ll be back for an answer to my question!” He yells as he sprints down the hallway as Steve comes into his line of sight, shaking his head once he realizes where he was.

Once he’s in the smaller debriefing room, he does a quick scan for Tony - semi grateful that he isn’t there when he hears his voice from above and heaves a heavy and loud sigh.

“Reeeeaaaal smooth there, tin man.” Sam is trying to control his laughter and failing poorly as his shoulders shake visibly. Asshole. “Plus, I’m not sure that counts as a conversation either.”

“Like any good soldier, I was checking the lay of the land.”

“You were checking some bullshit, is what you were doing,” Tony’s voice comes again from overhead, making Bucky clench his teeth together. “Well, you have eleven more days to make it happen, Romeo.”

“I’m aware.”

“Alright,” Natasha begins, rising from her seat. “Let’s begin. This is strictly just an intelligence recon. Should be two days in Nevada, just outside of Reno...someone is paying for -” Natasha’s voice dies down as he focuses on where he could have misstepped earlier. He’s been relaxed, leaning against the doorway to make himself not as intimidating, he’s given the smirky smile that had only twice failed him in the 40s...where exactly had he gone wrong??

[almost october]

tagging: @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @galaxiesinmymind @mizzezm

[honestlyfrance]

SAMBUCKY BOOKMARKS

it’s fic yeah friday over at @fuckyeahsambucky​​​ so i wanna do a lil something something for the fandom :) check out my #fic rec tag for more! 

enjoy the more than 50 fics listed here :) be careful of the tags!

I Am Trying to Break Your Heart by Lunar_Pull

Today is the day that Steve received an invitation to the love of his life’s wedding.

Philopatry by Areiton

"I want to be safe," he says. "But I'm not." "Then why come here? Why put me at risk?" Something flickers in his eyes, little boy lost and utterly cold, and it makes Sam want to give the dude a hug and also pull his sidearm. "I have no reason to hurt you," Winter says. "I don't want to hurt you," Bucky adds, earnestly.

farmhouse by Tazmaster

"You know, I think I'd want a farmhouse."

"A what?" Sam turns to look at him, slightly annoyed. This was the first thing Bucky has said in the past hour and a half they've been cramped in this god forsaken car. He had a knack for impulsively voicing his dumb thoughts at the worst times, but whenever you wanted to know what was actually going on in that head of his, he'd never say.

They were staking out the front gate of a large mansion, very much not a farmhouse. It was mind numbingly boring, being stuck in a beetle with absolutely nothing else to do than stare at the gaudy gates of some rich asshole.

"A farmhouse," Bucky repeats nonchalantly, "If we ever get out of this business, or you know, live long enough to retire maybe--- I want a farmhouse. With a lot of animals."

---

Bucky keeps talking about a farmhouse and it drives Sam crazy, that is until he finally asks why.

Employee Discount by bopeep for queenmab_scherzo

Sam Wilson doesn't love working in a store that makes him wear vanity-sized polos and breathe in clouds of men's cologne like the worst kind of GQ aromatherapy, but the view from his cash register across the mall to the Hot Topic and the sullen Dark Prince of Wallet Chains he loves to hate may just beat the minimum wage blues.

In warm water, swimming down by targaryen_melodrama

“Why are you hiding?””Tired.”Bucky raises an eyebrow. “So you decided to swim.”“So I decided to be alone.”Bucky’s quiet for a moment. “I can go, if you want.”It’s the last thing Sam wants.

I figured out what the slashes mean by Teaismycoffee

Sam, Steve and Bucky are all living together in a safe house. Bucky and Sam discover fan fiction written about them. Steve doesn't approve. Sam and Bucky are really into secretly reading fan fiction together, or maybe it isn't the fan fiction part they are really into.

Chicken Soup for the Soul by bioloyg

“S’not my bed time,” Sam says as he buries his face in Bucky’s upper arm. Bucky laughs. “Tough. You’re sick.” Sam lets out a loan groan and says, “But my bed is cold. I was so warm, why’d you move me?” “Because your neck would’ve hated you if I didn’t.” He tries not to be so amused by how fussy Sam is when he’s both sick and half-asleep. It’s cute. ~ A fic wherein Bucky takes care of a sick Sam.

two nights in L.A. by CapnWinghead

Bucky kindly volunteered Sam to be a groomsman for Scott’s upcoming wedding. Of course, that meant Sam and Bucky had to go to the bachelor party.

at the end of the war (what's mine is yours) by notcaycepollard

They don't talk about it: that's how it works.

I'd Like That by honestlydarkprincess

Sam has been up for over 24 hours and has been dreaming about his Coffee Caramel Fudge non-dairy ice cream since about the 18-hour mark. When he gets to the store, there's only one carton of it left and, unfortunately for the guy innocently holding said carton, Sam's not leaving without it.

Or, the one where Sam is sleep deprived, yells at a cute guy, and gets both ice cream and a phone number out of it.

Ready, Set, Date! by bioloyg

Bucky wants to sleep, Natasha wants to find him a date for Steve's wedding (so he'll leave her alone), and Sam is the best thing about this whole speed dating disaster. But, Sam's not in the speed date rotations - he's at a different table weathering through dates just like Bucky is. ~ "Three dates in, Bucky decides he has made one of the worst decisions in all of his life by coming here. His first date had been an attractive enough man by the name of Greg. He introduces himself as “The Big G,” to which Sam laughs at in the middle of introducing himself to his own date. Greg likes to talk about cars a lot, which is fine. Bucky also likes cars. The only problem is that Greg’s love for cars borders on… erotic."

We'll rise up free and easy by Sarsaparilla, woofgender

Steve and Natasha are away on a mission when Sam receives intel about the Winter Soldier’s location. When he follows the lead, Sam finds something unexpected—but despite his initial impression, it’s certainly not all bad. (Post-CATWS, not AOU- or CACW-compliant.)

__________ "'Jesus Christ,' Sam said, 'Are you planning on fighting an entire army?'

Barnes looked up from examining the sights of a sniper rifle. '...no,' he said, a little guiltily, and adjusted one of the--five? Six? guns he’d already strapped to himself."

love is in the air (i smell coffee) by Flora_K, hermionesmydawg

Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

Up at Night by bioloyg for lunaaltare

With Halloween nearing, Sam is feeling more in the mood for a scary movie than usual. He'd never watch one on his own though, so he invites his roommate to pick one out and join in on movie night. or Prompt fill for Samtember ~ "It’s quiet for a while after that. Like always, the two of them start on opposite sides of the queen sized bed with at least a foot of space between them. And, like always, they drift closer to one another as time passes, though whether it’s habitual or instinctual Sam would never dare delve into."

flowers in darkness, the moon above the sea by 27dis

Sam enjoyed his job, really.

But, not when a certain person came in.

A quick detour and a sudden arrival by iwillnotbecaged for heuradys

He found Wilson shivering in the snow, left for dead. Sloppy.

You couldn’t trust the elements to do your job for you. They were rarely so obliging.

A mission gone awry, unexpected help, and close quarters makes for an interesting couple of days.

Don't lock the door on me by TuskFM

Sam’s desperately trying to sleep when he gets a visit from the Winter Soldier at three a.m., bleeding and asking for help. Sam’s not the kind of guy who let someone bleed out on his front door, even if the said someone threw him off an helicarrier and stole his wheel.

and i run, further than before by hermionesmydawg

"What do they call you?" Bucky carefully pulls out an equal amount of caramel and cheese kernels of popcorn and pops them into his mouth. "Birdman?"

"No."

"Captain Canary?"

"Hell no."

"The Winged Avenger?"

"Falcon, dammit, and I am not an Avenger," Sam snaps, and now he's kinda pissed because yes, it's a bird name. He didn't sign up for this kind of ridicule from an amnesiac assassin.

***

Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Exquisite Flavor by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

W&M's Grand Corner's growing to be one of the popular restaurants in New York, where Sam Wilson works as a chef for his sister. A wedding's in a few weeks and he has no idea on what to do about it. Notorious for his picky taste and blunt reviews, Bucky 'Winter Wolf' Barnes pays a visit. Little did he know, food could really win one's heart and lands on his stomach.

He's a Beta, You Hear That? by 27dis

Reasons why Sam didn’t realize Bucky was courting him this entire time: 1. He is a beta 2. He is oblivious 3. He thought Bucky is way out of his league 4. He is a beta for fuck’s sake

See? It’s hardly his fault for not noticing it. Why was Bucky flirting with him anyw—

Oh. Oh.

Or; Bucky swore flirting with someone was never this hard before.

stay where we belong by glittercake

He doesn't know what the hell he's doing when he turns around and shouts, "Yo! You know what—" and Barnes turns on his heel in a flash, "It's getting late, man. Looks like rain."

Sam motions to the grey sky above, and Barnes follows his eyes beyond the hanging Willow branches. "Yeah? What are you saying?"

He's got that terribly smug look on his face, the one Sam can't stand but kind of misses when it's not irritating him. But mostly, he can't stand it, "Nothing! Forget about it!"

Arms Spread Out Wide, Turn Falling Into Flight by irisesandlilies

It was easy, nothing has ever been easy for Bucky. Except this, and that terrifies him.

Years in the making by glittercake

Bucky and Sam meet as two young soldiers, but the time is never quite right to make it anything more. Until it eventually is.

or

Sam refuses to let himself fall in love while he's deployed. Bucky pines endlessly for years about the prettiest bird he’s ever seen. Sam’s no better.

If At First You Don't Succeed by SonnyD

Bucky finally gains the courage to tell Sam about his feelings. He comes up with a list of methods to woo him that were bound to succeed. He didn't account for each and every one of them failing in unexpected ways. The five times that Bucky attempts to woo Sam and the one time that Sam returns the favour.

if i could take us back, if i could just do that... by safelikespringtime

Bucky laughed, cheeks flushing red, “I’m glad you didn't. Don't know what I’d do without my wingman.” Sam groaned, poking Bucky’s side, “That was awful.” Bucky laughed. “You couldn’t survive without me. We both know it.”

How right he was.

***

Sam dies. Bucky mourns.

Strawberries and Cigarettes always taste like you by winterscaptsam

There’s a sweet agonizing simplicity in leaving behind your safe haven, like the thrill of adrenaline, reaching the top of Everest, allowed to admire its beautiful icy view but with the everlasting fear of not making it back down. Maybe that's why it was a natural instinct for Bucky to reach out for the closest thing that felt like home, slowly then all at once falling for the sweet warmth of mahogany eyes, what soon became his safe haven.

Baked With Love by Siancore

Bucky Barnes’ family owns a bakery in a small town. High school has long been over, and Bucky is dying to move to the city to pursue a musical career with his band. And his future looks promising, if he can just persuade his father to let him leave his job behind at their struggling family bakery.

It is no secret that Bucky used to love baking with his father, but things change. He just can’t fathom wasting his life away watching rising dough and hot ovens. With his mind made up to leave, Bucky convinces his father to advertise for a replacement. While interviewing candidates to fill the position he has vacated, Bucky meets Sam Wilson: An easy-going guy who is as eager about baking as Bucky is about leaving. They bond over baking and become close. Love looks like it is ready to bloom between them if Bucky, in his haste to escape, does not ruin it.

Beneath this Crown by winterscaptsam

Sam traces his fingers from James’ hairline, down to his jaw, resting the pad of his thumb on James lips. He will let himself relish in this feeling. Not even the sculptors, painters or poets could carve their words and materials to accurately describe this.

“Do you think the history books will remember us?” Sam had once asked. And James’ words were made of the purest of golds, “my love, we will be legends for the children yet to come.”

Or

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes' love story, one a prince and the other a knight.

make my body come alive (i've got a right to hurt inside) by notcaycepollard

The body is weak. The body is hungry and soft and human. He looks at himself in the mirror, the bones of his shoulders, his cheeks hollowed out from hunger, and he thinks, gentle, you didn’t deserve this.

safe like spring time by quidhitch

“I already told you it looks good. What more is there?”

“I don’t know, man, you’re gonna live here. I just wish I knew a little bit more about how that’s sitting with you.”

Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

“I like the terrace,” Bucky offers, mostly to appease him.

Airy Laundry by AmarieMelody

Sam watches what happens when Bucky buys a clothesline.

lucky by CapnWinghead

In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

not an end, but (the start of all things) by notcaycepollard

They keep driving, for lack of anything better to do. A mission, Sam had said, and maybe that's true; maybe wherever they're headed is the way out, the way up.

So You Run On Gasoline by 343EnderSpark, ABitNotGoodieBag, OriginalCeenote

Bucky may have bitten off more than he could chew with this job, he thinks, as he ambles along the sidewalk to the cafe after leaving campus. He is running off the fumes of exhaustion and hasn’t had more than 3 hours of uninterrupted sleep in the past week. Between his students and his thesis, he knows that it’s foolish to try so hard to hang on to his barista gig, but DC isn’t a cheap place to live and Bucky can’t live with other people.

Bucky is just trying his best, despite being a human disaster.

we could jump the state lines (we only get the one life) by notcaycepollard

It starts in Paris.

“You can’t steal things just because you like them,” Sam tells Bucky, feeling innately that this is a losing battle, and Bucky cocks his head to the side, considers Sam very thoughtfully.

“Really,” he says. “I’m stealing you, aren’t I?”

we were a fire with no smoke by notcaycepollard

Sam can’t help but roll his eyes. Take the boys out of New York but they’re still Brooklyn Catholics, that’s clear enough. Bucky catches the gesture, smirks hard enough Sam can see his eye teeth. It should be dangerous but he’s beautiful, pale and charming and recklessly easy.

“You wanna come in?” Sam asks, ignoring the noise Steve makes, and Bucky’s smile gets wider.

“Yeah,” he says. Steps up close to Sam. “I do.”

Peace Begins with a Smile by Siancore

Bucky just likes the way Sam smiles.

They're Good Drones, Brent by chase_acow

When Redwing becomes infected with an alien A.I., Sam has to balance the needs of the team with his own curiosity about his new partner. Redwing isn’t the only one acting strange, he also needs to get to the bottom of Bucky’s weirdness. It takes a training exercise gone wrong that Redwing and Sam might not survive for their secrets to be exposed.

Wet Asphalt (This Is What Love Is) by ObviouslyOtter

Soft words in the dark tell us all we need to know about love. Better when they come from the person you need to hear it from most. It's crueler when you don't realize it till afterward.

Or

Sam and Bucky go out shopping for candles.

i'm gone by bi_marvel

After infiltrating a Hydra base, Sam and Bucky are sent to a safe house, and there's only one bed. Oh, golly, I wonder what will happen!

Covert Coffee & Flirtation Special by glittercake

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

The Starting Line by birdlight

A Series

Lone and Level Sands by quantum_consciousness

The almost-smile disappears off Sam’s face and he takes a step deeper into the water, and he starts unbuttoning his shirt as he wades further. One look over his shoulder and he chucks the shirt to shore, and Sam dives into the water. The ache in Bucky’s chest deepens as Sam swims. He supposes, Sam has lost a lot more, he supposes, sometimes Sam feels as lonely as he used to.

in which love doesn’t ruin us by joesnick

“Idiot,” Bucky said, so natural and deliberate that she couldn’t hear well but it was there. Relief and happiness under a small light. “Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m here,” Sam said, before getting closer and pressing his forehead against Bucky’s. “I’m here.” They ran out of words. They didn’t need them, not at that moment. Their steadying breaths and their tenderness, saved only for each other and fed by each other, was all they needed.

Ride of Shared Melodies by enchantedlightningwrites for honestlyfrance

Two strangers, Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson meet in an unexpected encounter in the airplane. Over the course of the ride, they discover their mutual love for music and connect.

Let's Fly Away by Unclesteeb

"If I could fly, I could go anywhere. I could do anything.”

Sam’s mom gives his shoulder a gentle pat. “You can in your own way.”

“How?”

“Sammy, all you have to do to be as free as a bird is to just do the right thing.”

Sam furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

“Well,” Sam's mom starts. “The right thing is doing nice things for people. It's treating everyone how you would want to be treated. It's going out of your way to help people and love them, even if they're not nice to you at first or at all. People deserve love, and I know you have plenty to give.” She leans down to give his cheek a kiss. “All you have to do to find your wings and fly free is to just do what you feel is right. You have a beautiful heart, Sam. I know you'll use it the right way. Then you'll fly.”

Been one of those days (can I lean on you?) by hazel_eyed_bi

Sam and Bucky wrap up an exhausting, weeks-long mission, only to go back to their mutual pining while forced to share a bed at a crappy motel. Also, Nat knows what's up.

Find your love and fight for it by winterscaptsam

Sam learns to love again, quiet and composed. Love letters stay in between walls and stolen kisses don’t leave his apartment. It's not that it's a secret, loving Bucky the way he does, lord knows he’d scream it from the rooftops, travel all the way to space to let any living life form know it as well. But that’s the problem, he just doesn’t know how and it aches him to his core to keep Bucky like a secret, like this love is something to be ashamed of.

Or

Sam decides it's about time to come out.

Kings of Everything by glittercake

Twenty-five years after the events at a popular New York Bistro, Timothy DumDum Dugan tells the true story of infamous mobster Jimmy Buchanan and the man he gave it all up for.

arson we commit by winterscaptsam

Bucky seeks adventure, reaches out for an adrenaline rush whenever he can get it and he reckons this fellow will be the one to give it to him. All sweet smiled and dolled up figure showing off his attributes. Like he’s daring anyone to take the rush.

So, Bucky goes and gets what he wants.

“What’s your damage, doll?”

Or

Bucky is the hitman and Sam is the target.

The Boys of Summer by Siancore for avintagekiss24

Sam Wilson returns home to the small town he grew up in to complete his med school residency. He hasn’t been back for an extended amount of time since he left for college. While he only consistently kept in touch with childhood friend, Steve Rogers, he was keen to see the people he had grown up with. With the exception of Bucky Barnes. They had a falling out the summer before Sam left for college. What happened between them? Can they move past it now that they’re adults?

Sam's Plan by OhHelloFandoms123

“I have a plan,” Sam said smugly, hands on his hips. “I have a three-step plan for you to marry me.” At first, he thought he was joking. Then, he saw Sam’s genuine smile.

Bucky groaned, “there is no way in HELL that I’m marrying YOU, Wilson.”

Wreck In the West by OhHelloFandoms123 for honestlyfrance

There’s just something about leaning on his chest as the sun goes down and the smell of tea whilst into the air feels so amazing. And he was a wreck because of it, it tore him apart and put himself back together because it was so blissful, he almost couldn’t breathe at first.

OR

Gay cowboy proposal.

Belonging Season by OhHelloFandoms123

Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes have lived their most happy, married life for 70 years. Death won’t stop them today for living an eternity.

neverending; by glittercake

Sam passes away after a long and happy life with Bucky, but Bucky never ages and life keeps introducing him to Sam's reincarnates for the next 156 years.

Lighthouse by glittercake

This guy’s trouble. Bucky knows that in his bones. It’s not bad trouble, is the problem, it’s good. Sam is so goddamn inherently good and if Bucky even touches that with a ten foot pole—fuck if he even looks at it—it’ll turn to shit.

He can’t afford another move to yet another city because his colleagues started recognizing Brock’s fist prints on his face.

But Sam is a ridiculously bright glowing light, a beacon, and Bucky goes toward it like that idiotic moth to the flame.

masterlist | ko-fi | patreon

[babygirl-diaz]

We've read SamBucky meets Young Bucky and SamBucky meets Young Sam, now imagine Young Sam meets Young Bucky, that'll be legendary lmao

((Hey, anon! I hope this finds its way to you. I basically wrote this as crack. Hope you like it!))

***

“Buck?” Sam asked as he answered the phone. “You must be a mind reader because I was just about to call you. I have a big problem!”

“I have a big problem!”

Their same declaration surprised Sam, but Bucky’s problem couldn’t be as big as his, so he said as much, “I’m sure my problem is bigger than yours.”

“Yeah, don’t be so sure. Because I have an enormous problem.” Bucky huffed.

“Wait… Are we still talking about our problems?” Sam asked when he realized their conversation may have deviated to a very different route.

“Look, Sam, I don’t have time for this. You need to get to New York. Stat.” Bucky practically ordered, making Sam frown.

“I can’t,” Sam replied.

“What do you mean you can’t?” Bucky asked with an edge in his voice.

“I have a… house guest,” Sam replied as he turned around and looked at said guest, who was currently tied to the dining room chair. No, that’s not how Sam normally treated his guests, but this was an exception.

“A house guest? You are such a liar,” Bucky scoffed.

“You don’t have to believe me but it’s the truth.”

“Who is it?” Bucky asked.

“I can’t tell you that. You wouldn’t believe me if I did,” Sam replied and his own voice sounded nervous to him.

“Trust me, after what I’ve seen today, I’d believe in unicorns if you told me they existed,” said Bucky.

The line went quiet for a few seconds, and Sam wondered if Bucky had hung up. He had to admit; he was getting a little worried about his friend. “Bucky?”

“Fine, I’ll come to D.C. Give me a couple hours.” With that, Bucky hung up before Sam could say anything.

“Hello? Bucky?” Sam called out. “Dammit,” he mumbled under his breath.

Sam turned to his tied-up “house guest” and frowned at him. Said house guest was currently struggling in the chair. Sam walked over to the chair and slowly removed the duct tape from his mouth and the man glared at him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” He yelled. “Free me right now!”

“Not until I figure out who--- what you are,” Sam replied.

“I am YOU!” the man replied. Well, he was more like a kid. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“How is that possible?” Sam asked, “You are clearly some kind of--- shapeshifter!”

“Shapeshifter? They don’t exist!” The kid scoffed. He then released a deep breath and said, “Look, I know this is crazy--”

“That’s an understatement”

The kid pointedly ignored him, “--BUT I think I somehow ended up in the future. I mean, look at you, you’re old.”

“Excuse you!” Sam balked.

“I mean, you’re older than me…”

“How are you so chill about this?”

“You’re freaking out enough for the both of us,” the kid replied.

***

It took Bucky a little more than a few hours to get there.

“Well, about damn ti--” Sam said, opening the door, but stopped mid-sentence when he saw Bucky wasn’t alone.

Sam’s jaw dropped open, and his eyes widened when he saw the person beside Bucky. “What the fuck?” Just like Sam, there was a younger version of Bucky standing right in front of him.

Young Bucky pushed Buck aside and got in front of him. “Hey there, doll. I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but you can me Bucky,” young Bucky introduced himself and held out his hand in front of him.

Dumbfounded, Sam took his hand and shook it, but young Bucky held his hand for a little longer than necessary, and then, much to Sam’s surprise, he kissed the top of his hand.

Behind him, Bucky let out a groan.

“Seriously? Do you flirt with everything on two legs?” Bucky asked, sounding exasperated.

“I don’t discriminate, Metal Man,” young Bucky replied

“Metal Man?” Sam raised an eyebrow

“He’s part Metal, part Man, so Metal Man,” young Bucky told him excitedly

“Wow, you really gave that a lot of thought,” Sam said sarcastically.

“Ha! I like y--” young Bucky stopped mid-sentence and his eyes widened almost comically like a cartoon character. “Whoa,” he blinked at something behind Sam, and then, much to Sam’s surprise, he hip-checked him out of the way and invited himself into his apartment.

Sam turned around to find young Bucky carefully approaching young Sam.

“I think I’m in love,” he announced.

“What is happening?” Bucky asked. “Is that--”

“Yep, that’s the younger version of me,” Sam replied, looking at the kid in his military uniform.

“Shit… what is happening here?” Bucky asked again. “Where did they come from?”

“Hell if I know,” Sam replied.

Young Bucky was now on one knee in front of young Sam and staring up at him.

Sam could only see his younger self, who was staring back at young Bucky like he had hung the moon for him. And he suddenly seemed to have forgotten that he was tied to a chair.

“Hi,” young Sam whispered.

“Hi,” young Bucky replied. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but you can call me Bucky." He introduced himself but this time there wasn’t any flirtatiousness in his voice.

“I’m Samuel Thomas Wilson, but you can call me Sam.”

“Sam,” young Bucky repeated the name like he was testing it out. “You’re beautiful, Sam.”

Young Sam shyly looked down and bit down on his lips. “You’re not too bad-looking yourself,” he said.

“Sweetheart, do you have a dame or a fella in your life?” He asked.

“Dame or fella?” Sam whispered to Bucky, who just stood there stoic, not saying a word.

“No, I’m single,” young Sam replied. “I mean, this one guy just asked me out, but I was plucked from my timeline and thrown here before I could go on said date.”

“Well, I thank whatever god is out there for that,” said young Bucky. “I would have been really heartbroken if you were taken.”

“Why?” young Sam asked and bit down on his bottom lip.

“Because I think I may be in love with you.”

“What?!” Sam screeched

“Excuse me?!” Bucky asked at the same time.

Both Sam and Bucky looked at each other and rolled their eyes before turning back to the two young versions of themselves.

“I think I might reciprocate those feelings,” young Sam replied, much to Sam’s surprise. He doesn’t remember being this naïve and a complete dumbass.

“Great, they’re in love,” Buck grumbled beside him.

“They’re not in love… they’re just dumb kids,” Sam huffed.

“Which asshole tied you up like this?” Young Bucky asked as he untied Sam

“Him,” young Sam nodded towards Sam.

Young Bucky turned around and glared at him. “How dare you tie up the love of my life?”

“The love of your life?” Sam almost choked.

“Yes, Sam here is the one I have been looking for my whole life.” Bucky took young Sam’s hands as he stood up from the chair and the two of them stared at each other with love and awe. And then they were kissing...

Sam wasn’t sure which one of them initiated the kiss, but soon they were all over each other, kissing like they were two drowning men, holding onto each other for dear life.

“And now they’re kissing,” Bucky commented beside him.

“Wow, thanks for the commentary, Buck. I, of course, can’t see for myself that they’re kissing,” Sam scoffed.

“What do we do about them?” Bucky asked, clearing his throat.

The longer they kissed, the more awkward Sam felt, standing next to his best friend, who he most definitely didn’t want to kiss.

The two kids pulled apart from the kiss, but stayed close to each other and giggled like a couple of schoolgirls. They were whispering something to each other that Sam couldn’t hear.

“Have you ever thought about--” Sam didn’t finish his thought.

“About kissing you?” Bucky finished it for him. “Yes, I have.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Sam asked.

“Didn’t want you to kick my ass,” Bucky replied.

That made Sam chuckle. “I wouldn’t have kicked your ass. Not for that, anyway.”

Soon Bucky’s metal hand found its way to Sam’s, and he took it and intertwined their fingers.

Young Bucky and young Sam were kissing again and Sam suddenly had the urge to kiss his own Bucky. Their young versions soon pulled away and took each other’s hands before coming over to Sam and Bucky.

“We have decided that Sam is coming with me back to my timeline,” young Bucky informed them.

“Uh no, he’s not,” Sam replied. “You don’t exactly come from a tolerant time.”

“I have to agree with Sam,” Bucky chimed in.

“Fine! Then Bucky is coming with me,” young Sam huffed.

“He can’t,” Bucky told him. “He’s not from this universe.”

“What?!” Sam asked.

“He comes from a universe where Peggy Carter became the Captain, not Steve.”

“What the hell?” Sam blinked at young Bucky. A person from a whole other universe. That was crazier than his younger self coming here from the past.

“Wait, you’re friends with Captain America? You’re that Bucky Barnes?!” Young Sam asked, surprised.

“No, that’s him,” Sam said, pointing at his Bucky.

Young Sam completely ignored him and grinned at Bucky. “That’s the coolest thing ever. My boyfriend is a famous historical figure.”

“Your boyfriend?” Bucky, Sam’s Bucky, choked.

And then young Sam and young Bucky were kissing again.

“Wait till he finds out that you’re Captain America,” Bucky chuckled.

Sam glared at him in return. “We’re not telling them anything. We don’t know what the repercussions will be!”

Young Sam and young Bucky were so lost in each other that they didn’t even hear Sam and Bucky talking about them. The young ones finally pulled apart to catch a breath.

“I’m not going anywhere without him,” young Sam adamantly told him and took young Bucky’s hand again.

“I’m not going anywhere without him either,” added young Bucky. “I believe I was sent here to meet the love of my life.”

“He is not the love of your life,” Sam sighed. “You’re kids. How old are you again?”

“I’m 20!” Young Bucky replied.

“I’m 18,” said young Sam. “We’re not kids.”

“Metal Man and Not Sam--”

“Hey! I am Sam.” Sam glared at him.

Young Bucky smirked “Metal Man and Not Sam, you are going to figure out how to keep us together.”

“What?” Bucky and Sam asked at the same time.

“You’re gonna figure out a way to keep us together because if you don’t then we’ll just stay here and mess up your timeline,” young Sam added.

“This is a nightmare. This cannot be real,” Sam said, horrified.

[americancowgirl19]

Acceptance

Summary: You find the love of your life in the middle of a highway.

Warnings: violence, soulmate, fluff, angst?, implied smut

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 3,680

A/n: This was requested by @fyeahtaylorp​ : Could you please do a Bucky Barnes x plus size female reader imagine where you see black and white until you meet your soulmate and they meet during the winter solider when he’s not really him and he’s protective of her and she works along side Steve and she has weather manipulation powers and they meet again and he’s still protective and there is smut please. - I am so freaking sorry that it took me forever to get this written and published and I didn’t get to the smut, so sorry. I also changed it just a little bit so I hope you still like it! 

Masterlist

“Hey, are you Sam Wilson?” You question, standing on the man's front doorstep. He frowns his eyebrows, crosses his arms, and sizes you up. You know you don’t look like much, but your mother always said that looks were deceiving. “Can I come in?”

“And who are you?” He asks, standing tall in the doorway.

“She’s backup,” Natasha states, coming into view. You instantly send a smile her way. “We can trust her,” She reassures him. Sam presses his lips together but nods and moves to let you in.

“You look good... All things considered,” You compliment her. She looked like her naturally beautiful self with only a couple of scratches and bruises on her skin.

“It’s been a rough few days,” Natasha tells you. “We could use your help,” You smirk and cock your head to the side.

“That’s what I’m here for. Where’s Cap?” Once the question leaves your lips, the golden boy comes into the room. “Heard you were in a tight spot,” You state when he looks at you with arched eyebrows. His eyes move from you to Natasha, who gives an innocent shrug.

“We could use her help,” Natasha states. “We can trust her,” She vouches. Steve looks hesitant but nods before giving you a polite smile.

“Rough few days, huh?” You mutter, looking at Natasha, sensing that her words were a bit of an understatement. “What exactly are we up against?”

Natasha and Steve both begin to fill you and Sam in on what’s been going on. You weren’t surprised Shield had been compromised. You didn’t trust anybody outside your small group. You preferred being on your own in a secluded area.

However, Natasha is one of the select few that has your complete trust. Therefore, when she called, saying she needed help, you came without hesitation.

“So, the question is: who in Shield could launch a domestic missile strike?” Natasha questions.

“Pierce,” Steve realizes.

“Who happens to be sitting on top of the most secure building in the world,” Natasha sighs.

“But he’s not working alone. Zola’s algorithm was on the Lemurian Star,”

“So was Jasper Sitwell,”

“So, the real question is: how do the two most wanted people in Washington kidnap a Shield officer in broad daylight?”

“The answer is: you don’t,” Sam states, dropping a military file on the table. Natasha pulls it toward her.

“What’s this?”

“Call it a resume,”

“Is this Bakhmala? The Khalid Khandil mission, that was you,” Natasha states. “You didn’t say he was a para-rescue,” She mumbles, looking at Steve.

“Is this Riley?” He asks, and Sam nods.

“I heard they couldn’t bring in the choppers because of the RPGs. What did you use, a stealth chute?”

“No. These,” Sam corrects Natasha. Steve flips through the file.

“I thought you said you were a pilot,”

“I never said pilot,” Sam smirks with a hint of smugness. It’s enough to get you grinning. You decide that you like him.

“I can’t ask you to do this, Sam. You got out for a good reason,”

“Dude, Captain America needs my help. There’s no better reason to get back in,”

“So, where can we get one of those?” You wonder, peaking at the pictures. “I don’t think Walmart has those in stock,”

“The last one is at Fort Meade,” Sam answers, an amused grin on his lips. “Behind three guarded gates and a twelve-inch steel wall,”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Steve assures him.

“I’m assuming you have a plan?” You ask, Steve. “Or is this a wing-it kind of mission?” Natasha grins a bit before they start laying out the plan.

Your part of the plan was to keep them from dying, basically. Nobody knew that you were involved. You were to stay in the background and only intervene if needed. Knowing Natasha, you would need to step in sooner rather than later.

You watched them from a distance. You smirked when you saw Sam flying around with his wings. They were a cool contraption; you weren’t going to lie.

Borrowing someone’s car, you followed them from a distance. You watched for anyone suspicious. Everything seemed normal until someone caught your eye.

This, someone, was dressed in black, but he stood out from everything around you. Like everyone else who had yet to meet the one they’re destined to be with, the world is dull and colorless. Only after meeting and accepting your soulmate could you see the world the way it’s supposed to be seen, full of color.

So, while his attire is completely black, his pale skin and silver arm stand out. You knew this was the man, The Winter Soldier, that Natasha and Steve had warned you about. You knew you should have warned them, but you were frozen by the revelation.

When he leaped from the car he was on and onto the one with your friends, you snapped out of your daze. Cursing, you sped up to try and get to them, but by the time you were able to weave around traffic and catch up, their car had crashed.

“Some backup you are, Y/n,” You mutter to yourself. You slam on the breaks and put the car in park before climbing out. You race down the highway and toward the men shooting at Natasha and Sam.

You stop a few paces away from the shooters and begin to conjure fog to cover their escape. Before long, Natasha can get away, and the attention is on you instead of Sam.

Able to see through your fog clearly, your search for your soulmate. When you find him, you send a powerful gust of wind in his direction. The force sends him flying back and through a car. You wince, but at least he’s not within the fog’s grasp any longer.

You move around as bullets come flying your way. You had given up your position, but it had been necessary. Once you find a safer place to stand, you begin to manipulate the fog once more. Your breath is now visible as the air around you drops rapidly in temperature.

To add to the cold, you begin to make the air thinner in their area. You see them shivering, and some drop to the ground due to the lack of oxygen.

In the corner of your eye, you notice one of the men had escaped the fog’s perimeter. He aims his gun at you but forces the fog to become thicker as you slip into its protective cover. Within the fog, you notice that more than one man has escaped.

You huff in annoyance, but at least you have eliminated a couple of the problem people. You see a few people standing at the edge of the highway shooting down where you assume Natasha, Steve, and Sam are.

Before you deal with them, you turn to the one that continues to hunt you just outside of the fog. Giving him an annoyed glare, one he doesn’t see, you point your hand at him. Like Palpatine, you release streams of lightning from your fingertips.

The man screams in pain and drops to the floor. You continue your ministrations until his screams stop. By then, however, the fog has dissipated, allowing the others to see you. Their guns turn to you, but before you can defend yourself, a stream of bullets lodge into their heads.

Your eyes snap to the source and notice the Soldier standing there. You both stare at each other before he stalks to the edge of the bridge and jobs down to the lower level. You race to the edge to watch him stomp off a crushed car and continue onward as nothing happened.

“Oh, no, you’re not getting away that easily,” You mutter. Lifting your hands, you manipulate the air around yourself. It lifts you off the ground and gently sets you down beside the car the Soldier had crushed when he landed.

You run in the direction the Soldier had gone. You see him locked in a fight with Steve. It looks like Cap finally met his match.

A groan catches your attention. Your breath catches in your throat. You jog over to Natasha and inspect her bullet wound.

“This is gonna hurt,” You warn her. She looks at you before closing her eyes. When she nods, you place your hands on either side of her wounded shoulder. You conjure enough heat to cauterize the wound.

“I hate it when you do that,” She mumbles. You smile at her.

“Well, stop getting shot, and I won’t have to do it,” You wink at her. “You’ll be alright,” You assure her before standing up. You turn back toward the Soldier and Steve. For the first time, you see him without his mask.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” He asks Steve before aiming a pistol at Steve. Your breath hitches again when Sam comes in and kicks the Soldier away from Steve. When he regains his footing, you notice Natasha aiming a grenade launcher at him.

“No!” You shout, shoving Natasha, forcing her to miss her target. When you look back, you notice the Soldier is gone. Before you can react, a collar is locked around your neck, preventing your mutation from working.

“It was him... He looked right at me like he didn’t even know me,” Steve mutters.

“How’s that even possible? It was like 70 years ago,” Sam states as Natasha stares at you intently. You avoid her gaze and continue to stare at Steve, wanting to know as much about him as possible.

“Zola. Bucky’s whole unit was captured n ‘43, Zola experimented on him. Whatever he did helped Bucky survive the fall. They must have found him and...”

“None of that's your fault, Steve,” Natasha assures him.

“Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky,” Steve whispers.

Great, my soulmate is a ninety-something supersoldier that’s in Hydra. You think sarcastically. Although, if he doesn’t even know who he is, how can he willingly work for Hydra? He protected me from his own men. Hydra soldiers don’t do that. There’s hope for him.

“Oh, you’re on our side?” You ask when one of the masked persons beats the sit out of the other two. “Oh, hey Maria,” You greet when she takes her helmet off.

“Ah, that thing was squeezing my brain... Who’s this guy?”

After making the grand escape, you’re all lead towards a hideout. There you find Nick Fury, who’s apparently not dead. After an argument on how to go about things, you prepare to take on Shield/Hydra once again.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on, or am I going to have to start guessing?” Natasha questions. You glance up at her before looking back down at your feet.

“You’re smart, Nat... I’m sure you’ve already figured it out,” You whispers. Natasha doesn’t say anything for a minute. She then comes toward you and sits down.

“Can you stop him?” Nat asks. You meet her look.

“If I can... You won’t be seeing me for a while,” You tell her. She sends you a small smile.

“Do what you have to do... Just be careful,” She advises. You smile, bumping your shoulder with hers.

“You’re the one who should be careful... Once I find him, I’m going to get him to leave with me. You’ll be in the fight the whole time,” You remind her.

“I’ll be fine,’ Natasha whispers. “Just get him and go,” You smile and slowly nod.

With those words said, the two of you leave the room. You approach Shield with Steve and Sam. The two of them go their separate ways while you start your search for the Solider... For Bucky.

During your search, you take down as many Hydra agents as possible. You wanted to help the cause, but finding Bucky was more important.

It wasn’t long before you were officially labeled a major threat. This meant that their focus shifted toward you. Things were slowly getting out of hand, but you continue to literally take the air from their lungs and the warmth from their bodies until they died. You offered a foggy cover for the Shield agents that were your allies while shooting your enemies down with bolts of lightning.

When you began to get surrounded, someone came to your aid. He had found you before you found him. He didn’t waste ammo—a single bullet to the head of those around you.

You two shared another look. Instead of looking into sunglasses, this time, you were looking in his eyes. Everything around him would continue to be black and white until he accepted you. You wondered if he could see in color. Despite not knowing him and him working for Hydra, you accepted him. You wanted him. You hoped that he would trust you.

You got lost in the beautiful color of his eyes that you forgot what was happening around you. When he moved to leave you and continue with his mission, you shouted his name. He froze, and you moved a few steps closer.

“Look at me... please,” You whisper to him. He remains motionless. “Your name is Bucky. You were friends with Steve Rogers,” His head turns slightly to you. “I don’t know what’s happened to you, nor do I know what you’ve been through, but I can tell you that things don’t have to be like this. You don’t have to be their weapon, their machine,” You risk a few steps closer to him. “I’m your soulmate. I will never hurt you. I only want you to be happy... To keep you safe,”

He stays still for a moment. He’s so still it’s as if he’s a statue. Then, he moves forward as if the words you just said didn’t matter to him. They probably didn’t. You weren’t going to give up that easily.

“Bucky,” You say again, latching your hand around his wrist. He whips around and wraps your throat in his metallic hand. You tense but don’t move. He’s not cutting off your air; it’s a warning. Your free hand lifts and covers his metal wrist. I won’t hurt you... and I won’t ever let them hurt you again,” You promise him. “Who cares about what’s going on here? It’s not our fight,” You tell him. “Come with me,”

“They’ll find us,” He whispers. You smile brightly.

“They’ve been looking for me for over a decade and haven’t come close,” You tell him. “They couldn’t find me then, and they certainly won’t find us now,” You assure him. “Please, come with me,”

Miraculously, he listens. The two of your leave the battle fairly easily. Anybody who gets in your way ends up dead. You switch your methods between sucking the air from his lungs to overheating or sudden frostbite. Bucky, while amazed by your abilities, settles for a simple bullet to the head. You two work with each other fluently.

You both stay away from populated areas. It’s harder within the city, but once you borrow another car and head into the countryside, it gets easier. You tell Bucky to stay in the car while you quickly buy him some comfortable clothes. Then, you drive him to your home. With your abilities, it’s impossible for anybody else to find, let alone get into, your home.

There’s an intense fog almost a mile thick around your property. Within the fog are intense temperatures. Some temperatures are too high or too low for a human to survive. Outside the fog, everything is normal and up to mother nature.

“Welcome to my home,” You say before climbing out of the car. He hesitantly follows you. “Nobody can come in without my consent,” You tell him. You walk to the house before slowing and turning back to him. “If you really want to leave, let me know... You may be a super soldier, but I’d be surprised if you could survive out there,” Bucky looks at the woods. “Come on; you must be hungry,”

You and Bucky live in silence for a long time. He doesn’t want to talk, and you don’t make him. You try to fill the silence with your ramblings, but it doesn’t always work to make him relax. He has nightmares at night, during the day as well. You want to help, but it’s a complicated situation.

It doesn’t help that he continues to be the only thing in color. He hasn’t accepted you yet. It hurts, but you don’t give up on him.

It takes a month for him to start conversations. It takes him even longer to hold those conversations for more than a few seconds. At this point, he’s knows everything about you while he’s still a mystery. To be fair, he’s still a mystery to himself.

You introduce him to the internet. There he can research himself and Steve. He learns a lot, and you find him behind the screen more often than not.

Around the end of the second month, Bucky seems to be relaxing even more. He still has his nightmares, he still is trying to find himself, but at the same time, it’s like he knows he’s safe. He knows nothing can’t get to him while he’s here. Yet he still won’t let you in.

In an attempt to get him to accept you, you try to do more for him. The meals you cook get more complicated, and you try to be more romantic and supportive. He entertains you but still keeps his distance.

It isn’t until the fourth month you begin to lose hope. You’ve done everything you can to get him to accept you. You’ve given him space, you’ve set him free, you’ve protected him and supported him. You have given him clothes and home, yet still, you get nothing.

You sit on the front porch. You’re thinking through everything. You know, four months, in retrospect, isn’t that long. It’ll take years for Bucky to recover. You had just hoped that he would want you. He’s taken your help, but you wanted him to want you.

When he comes back from his midafternoon run, he pauses right before the porch. He can tell something is bothering you but hasn’t a clue what to do.

“Do you know what soulmates are?” You wonder. Bucky stares at you for a moment before slowly nodding his head. You get a bit frustrated. “Do you trust me?” He hesitates again but ultimately nods. “Do you not want me then?” You whisper. It’s subtle, but Bucky tenses. You read his posture wrong. “Alright,” You whisper, standing up.

“Wait,” He says, jumping up onto the porch. His hand grabs your wrist. You stop, look at his hand, and then up into his eyes. “You’re beautiful. You’re strong. You’re everything I could ever want,”

“Then why haven’t you accepted me?” You whisper. He sighs slowly. As if giving into a desire, he caresses your cheek with his hand.

“For decades, all I’ve known is fighting. I went from one to another. Before that, I never thought I’d see in color. Then you come out of nowhere and turn my world upside-down. As perfect as you are, that doesn’t change who I am. I’m haunted every day, and I know Hydra is hunting me. Just being here will endanger you, but I can’t find it in myself to leave. I don’t want to get to the point of no return. I don’t want you to get attached to me because one day I’ll have to leave, and I don’t know if I’ll come back,”

“That just won’t do for me,” You shake your head. “You see, Buck, I’m in this for life whether you accept me or not. If you leave, I’m just going to follow. Whether you go to Steve or Hydra or even Hell, I will follow you,” You tell him. “You distancing yourself is hurting us more than the potential of you leaving. I’m not going to let you go, Buck... You’ll realize that eventually.”

Things continued the same for a while as Bucky digested your words. Eventually, however, there was a change. It was a slow change, but it was progress nonetheless.

Bucky began to open up to you more. There were subtle touches and lingering gazes. He sat closer and spent more time with you. As the weeks passed, everything began to amplify. The subtle touches turned into handholding that eventually turned into cuddle sessions. The words exchanged turned into flirtatious whispers.

The day you could see everything in color was the day you pulled him into a kiss. You both were the happiest you’ve ever been. The kiss made you both feel as if you had been touch-starved. Neither of you could get enough of each other.

The kiss had started in the kitchen. You were making breakfast when everything turned from black and white to various vibrant colors. You whipped around to him. He had this lopsided grin on his face as he stared at you.

You marched up to him and kissed him without a second thought. He had been leaning on the wall the separated the kitchen from the living room, but he switched positions so that you were pressed between that wall and him.

“I love you,” Bucky whispers. You begin to smile even wider, your heart hammering in your chest. “You’re-”

“I love you too,” You whisper back to him before kissing him once more. Bucky smiles into the kiss and leans into you even more.

You breathe in deeply when he picks you up. He doesn’t hesitate to take you back to your room. The room he’s spent the last few nights cuddling you in. He lays you down on the bed with a tenderness that has your heart fluttering.

“I love you,” He whispers again. He would tell you that all night. He didn’t want to stop kissing you, stop touching, nor stop telling you how much you meant to him. You changed his world, and you became his world.