#please i need to talk about these unhinged fuckin' old men.

[spacedkey]

mission failed fixation couldn't be contained. doensn't matter though because the tag is basically empty :'(

[calpalirwin]

The Falcon and the Newlyweds

Summary: After Steve travels back in time to reunite you and Bucky, he retires as Captain America, but you’re just getting started. (aka exactly like TFATWS but better?)

A/N: All credits to original owners/writers of TFATWS series. Added details/characters and minor storyline changes are of my own imagination. 

Word Count: 6.2k

And away, and away we go!

__

Episode 5

When Sam suggested the three of you go find John, you shook your head vehemently. “No. No, I don’t want to,” you whispered.

“Doll, we’re afraid we’re gonna hurt him, too,” Bucky admitted.

You still continued to shake your head. “I-I’m not worried about us… I-”

“Oh…” Bucky said in sad realization. “Oh, doll. You don’t have to be afraid of him. He lost control, and I think even he knows that. He’s still the idiot we hate. And yeah, by the looks of it he managed to snag a vial of the serum, which makes him like me now.” Bucky shuddered at the thought. “But someone needs to find him.”

“I don’t want to…”

“That’s okay. Sam and I can go. We can take you back to the apartment, and then Sam and I can go.”

“No. Bucky you can’t go.”

“I’m not letting Sam go by himself.”

You looked over at Sam, who was standing there with his hands in his pockets. “Look, Y/N. I know you saw an ugly side to John. I get that fear. Okay? I do. Buck used to scare me the way John just scared you. But Buck’s right. Someone has to find him, and it’s better if we do it. And look, throughout all of this, have Buck and I ever let you get close to getting hurt?”

“No…”

“Exactly. And if it makes you feel better, Buck and I will do the talking. Just come with us so we know you’re not alone. Please?”

“Okay,” you finally nodded. “But please don’t fight him if you don’t have to.”

“Never thought I’d hear you say that, much less agree with it,” Bucky tried to joke. “Sam, you still got Sharon tracking him?”

“Yeah, c’mon.”

~~~

Sam led the way to a building that was closed off for construction, easily locating John inside. “Walker,” Sam started.

“You guys should see a medic,” John interrupted. “You don’t look so good.” Long gone was the high and mighty tone he usually addressed you all with. His tone was also void of any attitude or malice. It was chilling to see him looking and sounding so void.

“Stop, Walker,” Sam started again, as John started to walk past you all.

“What?” he scoffed, the attitude and raised voice coming out. “You saw what happened. You know what I had to do. I killed him because I had to! He killed Lemar!”

“He didn’t kill Lemar, John,” Bucky said simply, keeping his own tone calm to not anger the other man, and cause another outburst of rage. “Don’t go down that road. Believe me, it doesn’t end well.” Sage advice from one previously unhinged super soldier to a currently unhinged one.

“I’m not like you,” John insisted.

Bucky gave a sad shake of his head, and you gripped his hand in yours reassuringly. If John didn’t want to listen to someone who’d been where’d he’d been, and under much worse conditions, that was on John, not Bucky.

“Listen,” Sam stepped in. “It was the heat of the battle, okay? If you explain what happened, they may consider your record. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt. John, you gotta give me the shield, man.”

Slow realization swept across John’s face. “Oh… so that’s what this is. You almost got me. I should’ve known when she didn’t have any smartmouthed remarks for me.” His gaze swept over you, chillingly so.

“Mistakes happen,” you said, your voice quiet. “Let them help you so this doesn’t get worse.”

“You don’t wanna do this,” John said, his attention back on Bucky and Sam.

“Yeah, we do,” Bucky responded.

There was a momentary pause as Bucky and Sam looked at each other, and nodded. In a swift movement, Bucky guided you backwards with his arm, then advanced on John with Sam.

Two against one, you watched as Bucky and Sam tried to outfight John, punches and kicks flying in every direction, vibranium fist colliding with vibranium shield. You pressed yourself against a wall, making yourself as small as possible, heart hammering in your chest as you watched the scene unfold.

Any fear you had turned to blood boiling rage when John chucked the shield, nailing Bucky in the chest as sending him crashing backwards as John advanced, Sam lying on the floor from a hit he’d taken.

“Why are you making me do this?!” you heard John scream as he pressed the shield into Bucky, pinning him between the metal and construction vehicle. He grabbed the shield that Bucky had a firm grip on, throwing Bucky sideways across the warehouse.

Seeing red, you quietly reached down to pull out a knife. Aside from the shootout in Madripoor, you never needed to use any of the weapons strategically placed throughout your suit. And despite everything, you didn’t actually want to shoot John, mostly at the risk of missing and hitting either Bucky or Sam. But while John wasn’t exactly in stabbing range, and you weren’t all that amped to get into stabbing range, you could throw it.

With a slow breath, you adjusted the sharp steel in your hand. You took aim, chucking the knife with as much accuracy and force as you could, watching as the blade hurled end over end before sinking into John’s upper thigh, at the very convenient time that Sam flew straight into him. “This isn’t you, John,” Sam breathed heavily as both men stood face to face.

“We could’ve been a team…”

Not liking the way John didn’t appear ready to give up, Sam launched a rope that locked into the shield, engaging in a weirdly combative game of tug of war.

John lost his grip, and the rope came loose, the shield clattering against the ground. If you were fast enough, you could reach out and snag it. But with Bucky still on the ground himself, Sam holding back John for you didn’t inspire much confidence. Especially when both men dove for the shield themselves. But when Sam tackled John away from grabbing it, both men rolling further away from you, and the shield, you took your chance.

“I. Am. Captain America!” John screamed as he pinned Sam down, ripping Sam’s wings off his suit.

“No, you’re not!” you said, charging into John with the shield with all your might. John’s body rolled off Sam’s, and yours rolled with the shield, clinging on to it for all you were worth as you and John both staggered to your feet. “Shit,” you breathed with a happy grin. “That was cool!” Then, your eyes went wide, before you screwed them shut, raising the shield the block John advancing on you. “SHIT!” you screamed, bracing for impact.

The impact however, never came as Bucky jumped into action at the sound of your voice, raining blows down on John. “Don’t! You! Fuckin’! Touch! Her!” Each yelled word was a new hit, as Bucky fought John away from you.

“It’s mine,” John panted like a child who was being forced to share his favorite toy against his will.

“It’s over, John,” Sam told him.

“It’s mine!” John snarled, taking a swing at Bucky.

Bucky blocked it, grabbing the back of John’s neck with his vibranium hand, and punching him in the face with his other hand. “Y/N, shield!” Sam ordered.

Not needing to be told twice, you tossed Sam the shield as Bucky picked up John, and slammed him into the shield, the force of the impact sending all three men crashing to the floor in a chorus of groaned grunts of pain, the shield lying uselessly on the ground once more.

Bucky was the first to recover, grabbing the shield, and rising to his feet. Wordlessly, he walked over to Sam, dropping it next to him. The look on Bucky’s face said more than his mouth ever could, the anger that he had helped Sam get a shield he’d given up so easily needing no reason to be physically voiced. “C’mon, doll,” he said simply, turning and walking out of the building, leaving John and Sam where they lay.

“We’re not gonna leave Sam here, are we?” you asked in a whisper, jogging to keep up with your husband.

“Right now? Yes.”

“Bucky… It’s been a long day. And I know you still have your issues about Sam and the shield, and what it all means to you. But it’s Sam. He’s our friend, and partner whether you want him to be, or not.”

“I know,” Bucky answered you through gritted teeth. “That’s why I’m only leaving him for right now. Now, let’s talk about you, and what you did.”

You sighed. “What? Are you gonna yell at me about how I should have kept my distance? How you and Sam told me not to engage with John, and how I didn’t even want to go in there in the first place, so I’m completely batshit for doing what I did? That I could have gotten hurt, or worse? I know all that, Bucky. So please, spare me the lecture.”

“That was half of it, yes…” he admitted. “But what you did was also incredibly smart, and got Sam the shield.”

You shrugged. “I just got mad, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but it got Sam the shield. And it potentially saved us too. John was… That’s not a fight I’m eager to have again, that’s for damn sure. Between that fight and the one earlier… Knowing that you’re okay, and Sam probably physically feels worse than I do right now is really the only thing helping me feel somewhat okay right now.”

“Well, let’s get back to the apartment, and I’ll patch you up like old times.”

Bucky smiled fondly at long buried memories. “Mmm. Nurse Y/N. I always liked her.”

~~~

“The GRC is conducting raids to try and find Karli,” Sam reported over breakfast the next morning. “But so far, they only found her followers. They’ve searched a camp nearby, and just like the last camp they searched, nothing. She’s gone. We’ll never find her.”

“Hey, you got your sleeve back,” Torres’ voice chirped as he walked into the living room, and you wondered briefly where he’d come from, but you figured he probably arrived when Sam did, and given him the full run down of the GRC’s movements, much like Sam was giving you and Bucky now. Torres pointed at Bucky’s left jacket sleeve, once again reattached to the jacket he was wearing. “No? Yeah… okay then…” Torres said to no one in particular as Bucky stood there in silence, with his trademark stoic stare.

Still silent, and clearly still angry with Sam, Bucky turned on his heel to exit the room. “Are you off to take care of Zemo?” Sam wondered.

“Alright, good to know you survived,” Torres chipped again in a goodbye of sorts as Bucky stalked off down the hallway.

“He’ll come around,” you said as a half-assed apology for Bucky. “He’s… ya know. So, what else do we need to know about the Karli situation? Or the John one?”

Sam shrugged, looking over at Torres. “What’s our next steps?”

“Captain America killing a foreign national in public? It’s kinda like a big deal. Like international incident big. Folks higher up on the payroll are all over it now. So, unfortunately…”

“They’re taking jurisdiction,” Sam guessed.

“Yeah,” Torres nodded, his attention falling to a duffle bag at Sam’s feet that contained the snapped wings of his suit. “What happened to these?”

“So is there anything we can do?” you asked as Torres started examining the duffle bag.

“Not really. As I was telling Sam, they’ve cordoned off the whole camp, and Karli’s a ghost. After what went down, she’s laying extra low. Like under underground.”

“That’s why it makes sense for us to get involved,” Sam said. “The longer we let her regroup, the harder it’s gonna be to find her.”

“She’s got people helping her from all over the world, on all platforms,” Torres pointed out. “She’s really, really good at this thing.” He ran his hands carefully over the splintered wings. “How’d these break?”

“John,” you answered while Sam sighed, taking in all the information Torres was providing.

“Anyways,” Torres went on, “all we can do now is sit tight, and just chill. Sometimes there’s nothing to do, until there’s something to do.”

“That’s bizarrely wise,” Sam said with a small laugh.

“It means we can train,” you interjected. “Be prepared for whatever comes next.”

“The lady has a point,” Torres agreed with you, his eyes flickering longingly to the shield that lay on the table, remnants of the blood John had splattered on his now gone.

“Yeah, alright,” Sam nodded with a smile, looking at you. “Find your husband, and let’s get to work.”

Thankfully, all you had to do was turn your head, finding Bucky stalking back down the hallway with both yours and his suitcases in hand. “B- Oh, hey. We going somewhere?”

“Home. Well. Sam is. You and I are making a pit stop first.”

“So you finally found Zemo?” was Sam’s guess.

“I have an idea of where he might be, yeah.”

“You know, sometimes you still scare me Buck. The staring. The eerily calm voice. It’s creepy, man.”

“You wanna get to work, or not, Sam?”

~~~

The pit stop ended up being Sokovia, Bucky giving you a full rundown as to why he figured Zemo would be there on the flight over. He also told you of the plan he had. And sure enough, as the two of you walked up to the memorial site, Zemo was standing in front of it, his back facing you.

“I thought you’d be here sooner,” Zemo said as you and Bucky got within earshot. “Don’t worry. I’ve decided I’m not going to kill you.”

“Imagine my relief,” Bucky deadpanned, finger clicking the safety of the gun he had ready at his side.

Zemo turned towards you both, unthreatened by Bucky’s action as his attention focused on you. “The girl has been radicalized beyond salvation. I warned you and Sam, but you wouldn’t listen. Just as stubborn as Steve was, the two of you.” His gaze shifted to Bucky. “But you. They literally programmed you to kill. James, do what needs to be done. Karli has people everywhere. And there’s only one way to make sure she cannot continue her mission.”

“I appreciate the advice,” Bucky answered, his face conveying no evidence of whether or not that statement was actually true. “But we’re gonna do it our own way.”

Zemo chuckled at what he believed to be the naivety of Bucky’s words. “Yeah. I was afraid you’d say that.”

The gun in Bucky’s hand clicked again as he loaded what you knew to be nothing, but Zemo rightfully assumed to be a bullet into the chamber, raising his hand, the barrel of the gun mere inches from Zemo’s forehead. Zemo went pale, but kept his composure calm, even nodding at Bucky like he was giving the man permission to pull the trigger.

You watched as Zemo sucked in his breath while Bucky pressed ever so lightly on the trigger. But all that came out of the gun was an empty clicking sound. Eyes still locked on Zemo, Bucky opened his other hand, the bullets clattering to the ground.

Silently, the Dora Milaje walked up, surrounding Zemo. “Ladies,” he greeted, before addressing Bucky one last time. “I took the liberty of crossing my name off in your book. I hold no grudges for what you thought you had to do. Goodbye James. It was nice getting to know you, Mrs. Barnes.”

Two of the Dora Milaje escorted Zemo away, while the third talked briefly with Bucky about their own plans for Zemo. “It would be prudent to make yourself scarce in Wakanda for the time being, White Wolf,” she added as a small warning.

“Fair enough,” he nodded. Then, “Hey. I may have another favor to ask of you.”

~~~

 After your visit with Zemo, you and Bucky headed home.

“Buck said you got a few good ones in on that new Cap guy. Good for you,” Steve smiled proudly.

“I did okay, I guess. Got out better than Bucky and Sam, that’s for sure,” you shrugged in modesty. “Have you heard from Sam?”

“Yeah, he got back a few days ago. But just as soon as he stopped by, he was gone again. Something about seeing the old man in Baltimore?”

“Bradley,” you and Bucky said in unison. “He’s uh… like you and me,” Bucky added as an extra explanation when Steve cocked his head in confusion. “It’s a long story.”

“Well, if that was a few days ago, where’s Sam now?” you asked.

Steve shrugged. “My guess? He went home to see his sister in Louisiana. You guys still not talking after what happened?”

You looked at Bucky, and shook your head. “No. Bucky won’t say it, but he’s still never forgiven Sam for giving up the shield in the first place. And now he’s even more mad he had to help Sam get it back, because-”

“None of this would have happened if he hadn’t given it up in the first place,” you and Steve gave your best Bucky impression together.

“1.) I don’t sound like that. And 2.) I’m right. None of this would have happened if Sam had kept the shield. Not the shit with Walker anyway.”

“But Sam’s still family. And we’re still Avengers. And we still have a job to finish with Karli,” you pointed out.

“What? So you want to go to Louisiana and find Sam?” Bucky asked you.

“That would be a start.”

“Doll, we just got home. Don’t you wanna be home for a bit?”

“Not when there’s still work to be done. And you and Sam gotta put this whole mess behind you once and for all, because all Riga proved was that it takes all three of us working together to take down John.”

“And that barely worked,” he reminded you.

“Which is also why we all need to train together. Not you training me here while Sam does God knows what in Louisiana. We need to be an actual team here, Bucky.”

Bucky sighed. “Alright. I’ll book us a flight first thing tomorrow, okay?”

“Why not book it right now?”

Bucky looked at Steve, clearing his throat before leaning in close to your ear. “Because of reasons I can’t say in front of your brother, doll.”

Your eyes went wide and your cheeks turned bright red at Bucky’s insinuation while Steve clapped his hands loudly together. “Okay. I think we’re done here.”

~~~

You’re sure we’re in the right place?” you asked Bucky as you approached a dock crowded with people and supplies.

Bucky only nodded as he climbed in the back of a truck lifting a huge pallet with ease at the same time you heard Sam’s voice wonder “How do we get it off the truck?”

“You’re welcome,” Bucky said as he set the pallet aside, turning to see Sam’s shocked expression.

“Surprise,” you grinned, waggling your fingers in a wave at Sam.

Sam stepped around the truck to get closer to you and Bucky, the shock on his face now a questioning look.

Bucky set a suitcase down on the bed of the truck. “Just dropping this off. Sign for it, and we’ll go.”

“Bucky,” you hissed under your breath. This was not part of your plan at all.

“I called in a favor from the Wakandans,” Bucky explained to Sam.

Before Sam could say anything in response, or you could berate Bucky under your breath again, a pipe started hissing loudly, and a woman was rushing over. “Sam!”

Sam wasted no time in rushing over to assess what the damage to the pipe was and how to go about fixing it, grabbing a nearby wrench as the woman looked at you and Bucky.

“Hi,” you smiled at her.

“Hi,” she smiled back.

Bucky sighed, watching what Sam was doing before going over. “Hold on, hold on. You gotta go up.” He took the wrench from Sam, pushing him out of the way, quickly tightening to the loose bolt on the pipe until it stopped hissing.

“Why didn’t you use the metal arm?” Sam asked as Bucky set the wrench aside.

Bucky thought about it for a second, looking at the vibranium appendage. “Well, I don’t always think of it immediately. I’m right-handed. So, this is the boat, huh?”

“This is it,” Sam nodded.

“It’s nice,” Bucky complimented. “You want any help?”

Sam looked at Bucky, sighing deeply. “Yeah…”

You and the woman looked over at Bucky and Sam, rolling your eyes. “Men…” you muttered. Then, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Sarah,” she smiled back. “Friends of Sam’s, I take it?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Mmm,” she nodded, her eyes roaming over Bucky. “And who are you?”

“I’m Bucky,” he grinned charmingly at her.

Sam punched him in the right arm as hard as he could. 

“Ow! What the hell, Sam?!” Bucky growled, rubbing at his arm.

“What is it with you and people’s sisters, man? How did Steve not beat your ass?”

Sarah’s eyes went wide as she looked at you, yours and Bucky’s name clicking in familiarity. “Oh!” she said, a hand covering her mouth as she looked at you, “I’m so sorry!”

You howled with laughter as Sam hit Bucky in the arm some more. “Seriously?! How did Steve not obliterate your ass?”

“He was like a foot shorter and weighed maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet,” Bucky shrugged. “Now will you stop hitting me? Doll!” He turned to you with puppy dog eyes to help him. “Weren’t you the one saying I needed to learn to be friendlier to people?”

“Friendlier, not flirtier,” you clarified, tears rolling down your cheeks from how hard you were still laughing. “Now help Sam with the damn boat, Sergeant Charmer.”

It was an interesting morning watching Bucky and Sam work on the boat, while you helped Sarah in the house making meals. “It’s probably a good thing Bucky’s from another time,” she commented as she caught you staring dreamily out the window for the millionth time.

“How do you mean?”

“A man that looks like that, and knows it? In today’s society? Not usually a good mix.”

“Oh, those types have always existed,” you said with a small chuckle. “Bucky and Steve used to fight them quite a bit.”

“And you? Having to fight off the hoards of women that no doubt threw themselves at a man like that?”

You laughed again. “Very rare occurrences. Bucky is, uh… attentive that way, I guess.”

“Well, you’re lucky to have a husband like Bucky. Men like that are hard to come by, believe me.”

“Oh, I know. Funny thing is, if you ask Bucky, he’d say he’s the lucky one.”

“Well, lunch is about done if you wanna bring these plates out to them for me.”

You thanked her, loading the plates up in your arms before walking outside and over to where Bucky and Sam were. “Lunch time!” you called out.

Both of their heads swiveled in your direction, Bucky clutching at his heart dramatically. “Oh, a woman after my own heart.”

“Sarah made lunch, I just helped,” you told him, handing him a plate.

Sam snickered, taking his own plate from you, “Thanks for helping her,” he told you, then in a louder voice that was almost a shout, “Thank you, Sarah!”

“You think Karli’s gonna throw in the towel?” Bucky asked, as you all took a spot and dug into your lunch.

Sam shook his head as he swallowed his bite of food. “I think she’s gonna double down.”

“Any idea on how to stop her?”

“I got Torres working on something.”

“Well, Zemo says there’s only one way.”

You all said nothing for a minute, eating your lunch and thinking quietly to yourselves before Bucky broke the silence. “Well. Y/N and I gotta catch our flight tomorrow. Gonna get a hotel room for the night. Crash, ya know?”

“So you’re just gonna set me up like that, huh?”

“Well, there’s two of us. We don’t wanna impose, or anything. I really just came to give you that,” Bucky nodded at the suitcase the Wakandans have given him for Sam.

Sam snorted. “Like Y/N didn’t all but march your ass on the plane to get here. So just stay here. The people in this town are the most welcoming people in the world. They don’t care if you wear small T-shirts, or if you have six toes, or if your mom’s your aunt-” Sam rambled.

“Okay,” Bucky cut him off with a chuckle. “I get it. I mean, you know, the people are nice.”

You and Sam laughed too, before Sam pointed at Bucky, “But don’t flirt with my sister.”

“Why would I do that?”

Sam looked at you, “He doesn’t get it, does he?”

You shook your head, “He never really did.”

“What don’t I get?”

“It’s how you interact with women in general, Bucky. They find you charming,” you explained. “Niceness is mistaken as interest.”

“Well, that’s ridiculous.”

“Just keep the charm around my sister in check, or I’ll help Y/N cut you up, and feed you to the fish.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

~~~

That night, instead of a hotel, you and Bucky slept in the spare bedroom of Sarah’s house, while Sam offered to take the couch.

Both of you awoke to the sounds of Sarah’s sons making a ruckus down the hall, and Sam’s tired call out of “Hey!”

You rolled on your side, to find Bucky already looking at you with a smile on his face. “What’s got you so happy this morning?” you asked, kissing his nose.

His shoulders shrugged. “Something about this is nice. Waking up next to you in a house. Sound of kids.”

You gasped softly in a teasing manner. “James Barnes, are you saying you want a quiet domestic life?”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead. “You knew that was what I wanted. What our lives were supposed to be like when I got home. You wanted the same thing too, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. I still do. I just didn’t know you still did, given how much everything’s changed.”

“For a while I didn’t. My focus was… elsewhere. But it’s been something that’s been on my mind again since you’ve been back. But I wanted to give us both time to adjust. Catch up for lost time, just me and you. And then… ya know. But yeah. This,” he twirled a finger about the room, and the sounds of the house coming alive, “is still something I want.”

“Well, it’s still something I want, too.”

His kiss was heavy with need as his lips crashed into yours. “God, I love you.”

~~~

The shield bit deeply into the tree Sam hurled it at. “Son of a b-” he muttered, dashing over to wedge it free.

“You need something it can bounce back off of,” Bucky told him.

“You need something it can bounce back off of,” Sam repeated in a mocking tone.

Bucky rolled his eyes. “C’mon, I got an idea.”

The idea ended up being taking rubber mats to bound around the trees, Sam giving it a test once they were done. The shield bounced off the mat, flying straight back to Sam who caught it with ease. “Yeah, alright,” he conceded. “That’s way better.”

“How’s the shield part feel?” you asked.

“That part feels weird.” He launched it again, the shield ricocheting off one mat into another before Bucky caught it. “The legacy of that shield,” Sam continued, “is complicated to say the least.”

“When Steve told us what he was planning, I don’t think any of us really understood what it felt like for a Black man to be handed the shield. How could we?” Bucky spoke up.

You and Sam shared a look, Sam jerking a thumb at you, “Well, I understood. And so did she. But glad you’re finally catching up.”

Bucky sighed, “Fine. I didn’t understand. Point is, I owe you an apology. I’m sorry.” He lifted the arm the shield was on towards Sam for Sam to take.

“Thank you,” Sam said sincerely, taking the shield.

“Whatever happened with Walker, it wasn’t your fault,” Bucky went on to say. “I get it. It’s just… that shield… For a while it was the closest thing I had to a family. Or it was a huge part in me getting my family back anyway. Because if Steve never took it up in the first place… Well, when you retired it, it felt like giving up. Made me question everything. Like first Steve retired. Then you retired the shield. Everything that saved me was done. Like I was nothing but a completed mission.”

You and Sam stayed quiet, letting Bucky spill out the confession he now found the words to express. But after a long enough pause on Bucky’s end, you reached out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I know both Steve, and the shield mean a lot to you. But it doesn’t define you, Bucky,” you told him softly. “You are not who you are because of Steve. He might have helped, but he is not the reason. You are. You’re the one who put in the work.”

“She’s right,” Sam agreed with you. “You gotta stop looking at other people to tell you who you are. Let me ask you, you still having those nightmares?”

“All the time,” Bucky nodded. “It means I remember. It means a part of me is still there. Which means a part of the Winter Soldier’s still in me.”

“You up for a little tough love? You wanna climb out of that hell you’re in, keep doing the work.”

“I’ve been making my amends.”

Sam scoffed. “No. You weren’t amending, you were avenging. And teaching Y/N in the process. You were stopping all the wrongdoers you enabled as the Winter Soldier because you thought it would bring you closure. But if it actually was, then your nightmares wouldn’t be happening. At least not with the frequency they still do.”

Bucky looked at you, both of you thinking about Yori back home. “You’re not allowed to talk to Sam anymore if you’re gonna blab everything I tell you to him.”

You smiled, knowing he was only teasing. “We’re a team, Bucky. Looking out for each other is what we do.”

Bucky shook his head. “Definitely not a team.”

“Nope,” Sam agreed with Bucky.

“We’re not that good,” Bucky laughed.

“Definitely not,” Sam agreed again.

“We’re professionals.”

“Definitely.”

“And uh… partners?”

“Coworkers.”

“But, we’re also a couple guys with a mutual friend.”

“But the friend’s now gone,” Sam pointed out.

“So we’re a couple of guys.”

“I can live with that.”

“Perfect.”

You snorted at their boyish back and forth antics. “The word you’re looking for is ‘family’ actually,” you interjected.

“Just uh… call us when you have a lead on Karli, and we’ll be there,” Bucky told Sam.

“Yep. And uh, thanks for the help. Meant a lot.”

“Course,” Bucky clapped Sam on the shoulder, and you and Sam gave each other a quick hug. “C’mon, doll. We got a flight to catch.”

~~~

Back home with no idea for how long, you and Bucky set to work on a more rigorous training for you.

Mornings quickly became filled with drilling you in various hand-to-hand combat techniques in which Bucky barely broke a sweat, and you ended up drenched in enough of your own for the both of you.

While you relished in your morning routine with Bucky, it was the afternoons you found particularly interesting after you came out of the bedroom to find Bucky sitting in front of his laptop. “Whatcha looking at?” you asked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as you peered at the house listings on the computer screen.

“Domestic dreaming,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen as he patted the sofa cushion next to him for you to join him.

“Oh, so when you said you still wanted this, you meant you wanted it now,” you teased as you moved around him to take the offered seat.

He shrugged. “Figured it couldn’t hurt. Thanks to Stark, everyone that’s still around is pretty well off. And I forget when exactly, but at some point Steve and I were able to get our GI funds.”

“That’s nice,” you noted, now understanding why finances had never seemed to be an issue despite neither of you actually working.

“Yeah. And I figured raising a family in a shoebox apartment isn’t part of that domestic dream. So…”

“So here we are,” you supplied.

“So here we are,” he repeated with a nod. “Oh, this one looks nice,” he said, clicking on one of the options.

“It is,” you agreed, watching as Bucky clicked through the pictures of the 3 bedroom home. “Big enough to raise a family. Small enough to not be obnoxious.”

“Mhm,” Bucky murmured, the mouse hovering over the link to schedule a viewing. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grinned.

After that, it wasn’t uncommon for yours and Bucky’s afternoons to be filled with meeting with realtors and attending open houses, weighing all your options in the evenings. And with the type of dedication Bucky had towards house hunting, it wasn’t long at all until you found a place you both fell in love with.

“C’mon, doll,” he roused you one morning like he always did. “Gotta go train.”

Normally you bounded out of bed, excited for a new day of training exercises, but today you swatted a hand at him, batting him away. “No,” you mumbled, pulling the blanket up over your head, and turning away from him, the action making your stomach roll. You let out a long, low groan.

“You feeling alright?” he asked, his voice taking on a note of concern. Hands pulled the blanket from your face, before he was feeling your forehead, checking for any unusual warmth. “You don’t feel like you have a fever,” he noted with a frown.

“Gonna be sick,” you announced, springing from bed and racing for the bathroom.

Bucky followed worriedly, one hand pulling your hair out of your face, the other rubbing soothingly at your back as you dry-heaved into the toilet. “Okay, no training today. We do have the meeting with the realtor later to sign the last of the papers and get the keys. But I can ask Steve to come keep you company while I go do that if you’re not up for it.”

“No,” you said, shaking your head and rising shakily to your feet. “You don’t have to bother Steve. It’s just a stomach bug, I’ll be fine.”

“Well, let me at least help you back to bed, and make you some breakfast, okay?”

“Fine,” you conceded, letting him support your weight as he led you back to bed. “But I’m not hungry,” you told him as you pulled the blanket close around you in bed.

“Not hungry, or worried you’ll be sick if you eat?” he questioned the validity of your statement.

You stuck your tongue out at him.

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “At least try to eat some toast for me? Maybe having something in your stomach will help.”

“If you get it to me before I fall back asleep, I’ll try,” was your compromise.

Quickly, Bucky raced into the kitchen, as you closed your eyes wondering why you suddenly felt so miserable. When you’d been sick in the past, there’d always been signs leading up to it. But this sickness had caught you completely off guard. 

“Gotta sit up for me, doll,” Bucky’s voice had you opening your eyes again, spotting him standing next to you with a plate in his hand.

You groaned, sitting up against the headboard and taking a begrudging bite of the toast.

He chuckled again. “I forgot how stubborn you get when you’re sick. Way more than you normally are.”

“Not sure how not wanting to vomit toast, and wanting to sleep makes me stubborn, but okay,” you said, taking another slow bite.

“Aren’t there usually signs before you get sick? I thought there used to be signs.”

“There are signs. Or there’s supposed to be. I dunno what the heck is happening.”

His brows pulled together in curious confusion. “You’re not…” his eyes shifted to look at your stomach pointedly. “Are you?”

Your eyes went wide at the suggestion, before you shrugged your shoulders. “Maybe?”

“Shit…”

“Would it be bad if I was?”

“No!” he rushed. “God no. Just…”

“We talked about all of this back in the forties, it became irrelevant for decades, and now that we started talking about the possibility of it all again, it’s all happening at once.”

“And we still have the Karli situation, yeah. But it’s fine. It’s more than fine. Do you want me to run down to the pharmacy?”

“Please?”

Ten minutes later, Bucky held you tight as you waited on the test lying on the bathroom counter with wide and tearful eyes. “Holy shit…” you both breathed in unison, as a small plus sign appeared in the result window. “Holy shit!”

__

Tag List

@cxddlyash @stanofalotofthings @philthepegacorn @youngblood199456 @binxiboo @creator-appreciator @felixtok @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @jessalyn-jpeg @lilyoflower @mychemicalimagines @rougese7en @milea @partiesandblurrypolaroids​

[imadethisatage11]

Live-blogging my reaction to Spiral: from the book of saw

Spoilers under the cut

TL;DR: my overall review is that it was good but I’m going to go watch DPS to cleanse me

- ok so that woman got robbed and for what

- I had to pause to find out who this detective’s actor was Bc it was driving me nuts and it’s MCMURRAY FROM LETTERKENNY???

- love that they’re gonna fuck up this train conductors day lmao

- LOVE genuinely that we’re back to looking gritty and having an old tv play the video and having some rapid cut camera work early 2000’s vibes I embrace you

- why does the voice sound like that,, I wasn’t expecting John but why is it so non threatening now it’s literally just Some Guy™️

- I am glad I paid $15 to listen to Chris Rock talk about Forrest Gump. Worth my money and I mean it genuinely I love Chris Rock he’s great. Stream Everybody Hates Chris on Hulu

- “Z?” Zeke who just had his cover blown: this MF

- “do I look like a fucking Jamaican nanny?!” I- 😀🤚🏽

- ayo Max Minghella

- Chris Rock falling just short of being convincingly aggressively cynical Bc he is Chris Rock with the voice of Chris Rock

- it sounds like he’s setting up jokes that don’t have punchlines and instead they’re just like,, mediocre cynic cop dialogue

- while looking at some pretty fucking intact teeth: this bum is gonna be pretty hard to ID

- I mean I guess the homeless don’t have dental records but were you not even gonna try?

- I’m very pleased Chris Rock put on gloves before handling the strange package I love actually smart character choices that would make sense for them to make

- I.e. the cop knows how to properly handle unexpected unmarked packages delivered to the precinct

- “I thought the jigsaw killer was dead” “well if it’s another copy cat…” another wait is that referring to Logan (which Logan pinned on the other coincidentally crooked cop whose name I’ve forgotten) does that imply Logan only did like? The one trap? And hasn’t been active? Just waited ten years after John died recreates the one trap he was in and then stops?? I mean don’t get me wrong if movie wants to ignore Jigsaw (2017)’s existence I’m game but like what

- also why do the packages look like they’re wrapped in Tiffany boxes lmao

- oh yay they did run dental

- Chris Rock is an asshole but they should go with protocol if that’s what they’re doing

- ordering a man mid piss out of the men’s room to yell at Zeke

- does conflict of interest matter when the whole precinct knows the victim?

- uncomfortable stand-offs with your ex while at the home of a grieving friend

- Samuel L Jackson!

- “I could’ve killed you!” “What are you talking about, I have the gun!” *SLJ pulls a gun out* “I could’ve killed you”

- daddy issues

- “you think this is linked to John Kramer?” Bruh you think it’s NOT??

- ik this is SO far fetched but I rlly hope this movie tells us wtf happened to Dr Gordon. I���m sure it won’t but a girl can dream

- “should we tell Zeke?” “Fuck him” I get you guys don’t like to work w him Bc he’s an ass but like. You’re just not doing your jobs now you’re just proving he’s right that you’re untrustworthy

- splitting up and not telling ppl where you’re going is the number one way to get kidnapped or murdered but way to go cop instincts

- what is this Chinese finger trap ass shit

- love the blue tones tho very Saw

- all it needs is to become uncomfortably green

- fun fact I actually watched the first saw w my friend who is red green color blind and he said it looked AWFUL and I was like oh yeah everything is blue tinted like twilight blue tint and later it’s green just FYI (he thought that made significantly more sense than whatever shit ass color palette he was perceiving)

- being mad at your son for turning in a dirty cop Bc now you’ll have to mess with internal affairs

- and then assaulting someone??? SLJ is an even worse asshole lmao

- another Tiffany box bound in twine maybe it’ll be one of those cheesy diamond heart necklaces

- HELLO what is that ugly ass pig puppet

- also the voice is so stilted did the killer use fuckin text to speech so they couldn’t unscramble the voice like they did to Hoffman?

- cops finding dead pigs, a little on the nose

- oh so this dude has a history of “fuck it” ok well screw that guy then

- SLJ deserves to be pissed at that cop for letting Zeke get shot but like what an unhinged man he threatened to kill him and then actually assaulted him HOW did he EVER get in charge to begin with

- ok wait is Zeke actually the only decent cop (inc his dad but maybe excluding the newbie)

- that is a truly gruesome way to lose fingers tho I must say but he deserves that shit

- wait did the trap not go fast enough or was there a way for him to do that faster and I missed it

- like should he not have hesitated Bc there was a time limit or was it just rigged

- cuz the machine had to pull them off he couldn’t just cut them quickly

- so are they just gonna leave broken leg Dude there or

- also just now I tried to talk abt this movie (so far) vs Jigsaw (2017) to my mom and I got too excited and referenced some character names she didn’t know and she shut me down and said she didn’t care 😀

- live-blogging to my, like, five followers that compromise one one (1) person that knows me IRL, one (1) Sawtual, and a handful of ppl only here for my main DPS content to fill the void of emotional parental neglect. What a great website

- oh no did the rookie die :( he was actually sweet

- I feel like he was too important to kill offscreen tho

- like they’re TELLING us he .. was skinned.. but was he REALLY

- Chris Rock having a revelation: AH FUCK

- everyone else at the crime scene: ….

- favorite thing abt movies that were already gonna be rated R is when they’re like “well if we’re already at R we might as well say fuck”

- she has to SEVER HER SPINAL CORD? Why was she deemed the biggest asshole

- also how on earth was this trap portable it IS in their basement right

- transporting the hot wax is just what gets me

- Chris Rock rn: are you tired of being nice? Don’t you just wanna go apeshit?

- was this abt his dad the whole time???

- does it count as live blogging when I do one big post instead of several small ones lol I just want it to be avoidable for ppl who are just here for Dead Poets Society

- man’s fully abt to cut his arm off like barely even hesitated long enough to notice the bobby pin he could pick the lock with

- there’s a body here suspended

- not hanging mind you

- but covered and suspended

- and I bet it’s the newbie

- ah damn it’s Pete that’s disappointing

- it’s possible the trailers just made him seem more important than he was

- why are they punishing Zeke for reporting a dirty cop and having his career accordingly ruined like he did the right thing and already suffered for it? This killer doesn’t like crooked cops?? Why does Zeke have to be tortured by hearing this dude die like that’s what they want isn’t it?

- I think it’s too late pal

- the glass trap was pretty fucking cool though

- I KNEW HE WAS ALIVE

- I didn’t think he was a MURDERER but I KNEW he was alive

- OH SHIT THE DIRTY COP ZEKE TURNED IN KILLED NEWBIE’S DAD??

- I’m terrible at guessing endings but it makes viewing more fun

- honestly,, do it Chris Rock ACAB

- “you want me to kill cops?” “No, fuck no, just the bad ones”

- what a fun villain though

- I have no idea what the Ultimate Game Plan™️ is here though is he gonna make him kill his dad? I mean his dad does suck but making a dude KILL his DAD? That is a tall order Max Minghella

- ok but literally why wouldn’t you listen to him here shoot the target??

- ANGIE! It WaS aNgIe

- killing this man is not correct justice anyway Zeke

- shot the target! Good man

- groovy of them to play the Hello Zepp soundtrack rn

- oh shit what’s going on SLJ knows what it is

- oh.. w o w. Brutal way to go. Very heavy handed imagery

- and that’s all I guess who the fuck knows what’s up w Doctor Gordon

- and I guess Max Minghella is just gonna get away now but tbh Chris Rock only seemed truly mad at him for involving his dad

- nice rap remix to the OG Hello Zepp score very cool credits music

[soulful-ofevans]

It’s Hopeless - Sebastian Stan Imagine

warnings: angst, fluff, Chris!Best Friend,  

request: The reader is best friends with Chris, but in love with Sebastian. She goes to Chris for advice on how to let Seb know how she feels. - @ theimpossibleg1rl

words: 1700+

masterlist 

“What the fuck are you doin’ here!” You ran towards your best friend at full speed, knowing he can take your impact easily.

“Chris! I missed you!” Your voice was muffled by the neck of his Cap suit.

Chris kissed your hair, holding it flat with his large palm. His arm was wrapped around your waist, keeping you lifted off the ground, and stuck in his arms.  

“I missed you too, Honeypot.”  

You had flown down to surprise Chris while he shot Civil War in Atlanta. He’d been moaning for months about how he was so bored and homesick that you decided to shut him up. For a little bit, at least.

Setting you back on Earth, he bared a grin when whilst holding you away from his body. He was looking for any change to your appearance since he’d last saw you, which was five months ago. A lot can happen in five months, and Chris was always so diligent in knowing every detail of your face and appearance. He could spot your hair cut an inch shorter, or you wore a new outfit. It was nice to have a best friend who took notice in the effort you put into looking presentable.

“Well, what are you fuckin’ doin’ here? When’d you get in?” Chris slung one arm over your shoulder and guided you towards the crafts table, where a selection of decorous food was lying.

“Lisa ringed me the other week beggin’ me to take spring vacation to come visit you! I guess I was the only one fit to shut up your whining and begging.” Chris chuckled and nodded in acknowledgment. He knew he had been on the, rather, complaining side in his tone for the last few months. He just missed his family so much. He missed seeing Miles, Lucy, and Noah. He missed not being able to go to his parent’s house on Thursdays for spaghetti dinner.

“Like always, she was right. You are the only human being beside her that could make me feel like I’m home with just your presence.”

You felt so much love for your best friend, and now you felt even more. He was so sweet and benevolent in nature. He’d been that way since the day you met him, 26 years ago. He was just a scrawny 9 years old, terrified to go down the slide on the playground. You were an adventurous 8-year-old and told Chris he could hold your hand while going down the slide together. He agreed and ever since then you two have held each other’s hands through the worst of times and the best of times.

“It can’t be! No way!” Booming from across the lot, you saw Mackie waving his hands frantically at you while jogging over. There had been a companion with him, a brunette you had only heard about before. The brunette didn’t join Mackie when he ran over to you, though. He just set foot in a slow pace walk, almost looking uneager to meet the mysterious best friend of Chris’.

Anthony pulled you into a big hug when he finally reached you and Chris, both pigging out at the table of goodies. “Big Mack! How goes it?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, “Not too bad. Livin’ good down in A.T.L., aren’t we Evans?”

“You are, Mr. Life of The Party.” Anthony gawked at Chris and slapped his shoulder. “Don’t try and pretend that you ain’t out at the clubs, talkin’ to the ladies, now. We don’t wanna be tellin’ lies to our friends now do we?” You giggled at shook your head, turning back towards the donuts.

You held a chocolate glazed one to your mouth when you heard an unfamiliar voice from behind.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. Those have been baking in the sun for a good fifteen hours.”

Sebastian had his blue eyes cast towards you, with a warm smile upon his lips. Chuckling nervously, you agreed and laid the donut back on the tray.

“Thank you. Wouldn’t have wanted to catch food poisoning my first day here.” Sebastian just broadened his grin that, swear to god, was twinkling in the sunlight. He stuck out his hand and you met him halfway.

“Sebastian.”

“Y/N. Chris’ best friend.”

Ever since that moment, you had been hooked to Sebastian Stan. Hopelessly, carelessly devoted to a man who didn’t even know you felt so much towards.

One Month Later

Lunch was always the best time to talk to Chris while he was shooting in Atlanta. Any other waking moment besides the hour he gets for lunch were spent in a costume or spent fast asleep in his bed.

He was starting to become suspicious of your actions as of late. You don’t blame him though, you were acting a little mentally unhinged. Since you were crashing at Chris’s he saw the weird quirks that were signs of your anxiety rising.

You would eat cereal in the middle of the night and forget to put away the milk. You slept in peculiar hours of the day, and awake at night during the strangest times. Your bed was always disheveled, which was odd since you were exactly like Chris; almost obsessive about having your home clean.

He’d tried poking you for an answer the other night over Chinese food but you held an iron front. The last thing you wanted him to know was that you were unhealthily attracted to Chris’s workmate, Sebastian Stan.

But it was becoming overwhelming, your crush on Sebastian. Every time you two would talk without Chris, edged you closer to the cliff that was asking him out. You hated the thought of it, even the idea of saying those words to him caused your stomach to clench and your cheeks to burn.

It was famously known that you were hopelessly terrible with men. It was almost embarrassing, the level of awkwardness you showed whenever you spoke to a guy you liked.

This time, if you were going to conquer your worst fear, you couldn’t take a chance on screwing it up with anxiety. Which leads us to the final route; You had to ask Chris for help.

“Y/N? Where’s your signature Friday burrito?” Chris’s voice caused you to almost jump out of your skin. Luckily, you pulled yourself together fast and held up a strong posterior.

“I um, forgot.”

Chris shook his head and plopped down on the leather couch next to you, “You aren’t yourself lately Peanut. What’s goin’ on? And don’t try to fool me, I’m an expert at you, ya know?”

He held a gentle smile. You felt him grasp your knee, as a gentle reminder he was there for you, no matter what.

“No, no… you’re right, I…I haven’t been myself lately because…I, um. Well-”

“Hey, hey come on Smalls… it’s me, I ain’t gonna judge.” You looked up at his warm features and took in a deep breath. I guess it’s now or never,

“I like your co-worker, Sebastian Stan but I didn’t want to tell you because I know that it makes it super awkward for you but I can’t help it and I need your help because I want to just jump off the cliff and tell him what do you think?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t want to see the shock on his face.

“Seriously, I thought you were better than this!” Your heart plummeted into the dirt.

“I know, but I- he’s just so funny and kind and sweet I’m so sorry. I don’t want to make things awkward for you. I can pack up my stuff and head up north.” You went to stand but were pulled back down by a rough hand.

“Now hang on, I’m not talkin’ about that!”

“You’re not?” Chris looked exasperated. “No! I’m talkin’ about the fact you went haywire crazy over just some guy! What happened to the tomboy who kicked my ass in seventh grade in front of Samantha Webster?”

Your mouth resembled just a gaping hole. What the hell, he was mad because you weren’t being ‘feministiskt’ like before?

“Wait, you’re mad… because I was concerned about asking Sebastian out?”

Chris threw his hands in the air, “Yes!”

“Well it’s different, I really like him, Chris. I know that I shouldn’t be this concerned but I don’t want to fuck this up by making a fool out of myself.”

Chris’s features softened with your confession. Processing all of this he know that this was serious. You had never gotten crazy about a boy before.

Chris knew that you couldn’t talk to guys for shit. Unless they were a part of the Evans family, strangely. He grabbed your hand and held it gently, struggling to find the right words on how to help your debacle.

“You know that you are beautiful and funny, and kind and sweet and just an amazing person right?”

“Chris, I don’t want compliments-” “No, no. Hear me out. Sweetheart, you are an amazing, courageous, strong woman. You and Seb would make a fantastic couple. You don’t need me to guide you through this. Your heart knows what to do. Just ask him out! Seb is a simple guy, believe it or not. He would appreciate just a damn cup of coffee! You are wonderful and if he can’t see that, he’s a dumbass. Don’t let your anxiety hold you back from love. Go out and get that delicious man.”

You slapped your best friend‘s chest but followed it with a hug. The world looked blurry through your weepy eyes. Pulling away you sniffled and wiped away the gathering tears of love. Giggling, you nodded with a suddenly exhilarating determination.

Walking out of Chris’s trailer towards Sebastian’s, you paused for second, peaking back in Chris’s, “If things do not go well, can you pick up the required Ben and Jerry’s for me?”

Chris smiled softly at me, “Consider it done, Smalls.”

A/N: BAH! It’s been so long my dearies. But I’ve been working on this one for a while and I feel a bit rusty so apologies to the requester if this isn’t all that you thought it was cracked up to be! Please message me with any concerns with it, Sweets, I’m more than willing to edit it for you <3

THis could potentially have a part two, I’m not super sure but if you want one and actually read author notes let me know, lol. - R.xx

[fatesluck]

heavy on down, the weight's too much.

SETTING   /   HOME. TRIGGER WARNINGS   /   SHOOTING, GUN VIOLENCE, GUNS, BLOOD, INJURY, MENTAL ILLNESS, MANIA, SEX.

Home. Familiar and dimly lit, packed with strange remembrance and a desire for sleep. Oliver looks around with furrowed brows, closing his front door behind him. He was over the moon to be free from the hospital, his parents having forced his doctors to let him stay one extra day. He heard their whispers, “He’s bipolar, please, one more day. Just to make sure he’s okay. Please.” He knows they mean well, but something about it makes him feel less than okay.

So here he stood, clad in an old pair of sweatpants that hold a jello stain, his arm decorated with a gunshot wound now stitched up, and his leather jacket in his free hand. A quiet, barely there breath is taken in, his chest shaking a little. Probably from nerves, or relief. Oliver couldn’t tell. Maybe a mixture of both. Suddenly, he’s not sure what comes over him, but he screams. Loud, unhinged, and all at once. He didn’t scream when the gunfire started, or when the first bullet barely missed him, or even when the second one blew right through his arm. He stumbled, fell, and barely made a sound. A few grunts here and there, whimpers induced by pain. But other than that, nothing. He needed the scream. Terribly.

He drops his jacket onto the arm of his couch without a care, dragging himself to his bedroom. It’s become a little stuffy in there since he’s been gone, so he cranks open a window before plopping himself down. His bed wasn’t even made, he had fled his home the day of the anniversary party too fast. Mainly because he was excited to go with Ramina. But now here they were, him at home still wounded but better, and her still lying in a hospital bed. Oliver moves to lie back, thinking maybe he should sleep, but it’s not long before he hoists himself up at a great speed, rushing to his bathroom. He yanks open the cabinet that’s just below his sink, which proved a little difficult with only one hand at his disposal at the moment, and retrieves two hand guns he keeps neatly hidden there. With that, he marches back to his bedroom, placing both of them into his bedside table. You know, for safe keeping. Just in case.

Then, he lies down again, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. Maybe now he can sleep. His stomach growls. “Fuck.” Oliver mumbles to himself, shooting upwards again. This time he quickly pads to his kitchen and begins searching his fridge. He takes out everything he can. First, he makes way too many pancakes, then eggs and sausage. Then two burgers, then more pancakes. At least his house smells amazing now. He makes more food and he kinda loses track after a while, especially since he barely eats most of it. No human can seriously go through that much food. So now, he smells of mostly syrup and armpits, which wasn’t very flattering. He thinks he should shower, so he decides to do that next.

The shower goes by a little slowly, Oliver just kinda staring into the air as he washes his hair and his body. There was weirdly still little marks of blood on his body that they didn’t fully get to at the hospital. Or maybe he was imagining things, seeing something that wasn’t there. Either way, he scrubs a little harder, wanting to be clean of the memory entirely. Once he’s out, he sits in a towel, hair and beard dripping, staring at the damp tile floor of his bathroom. He looked to the little notes of encouragement he had stuck to his mirror. “Fuck you.” He says to them, as if they were real beings who could hear him. The man stands, moving to rip them off the mirror, tossing them into the garbage. Suddenly, his phone vibrates and Oliver picks it up, unlocking it. 

JAKE: Hey, heard you were out of the hospital.  JAKE: You up for some fun? I’ll take your mind off it.

Oliver contemplates this, and goes to type something in response. He wasn’t sure what, but he hopes his fingers would decide for him. That’s until Jake, mystery man from Oliver’s sexual past, sends a photo. Then Oliver is staring at a rock hard cock. “Jesus..” He trails off, eyebrows knitting together as he zooms in on the picture with one hand. His head cants to the side, smirking a little. He types out a message he knows he wants to send now.

OLIVER: Come over and find out.

He presses send, eyes averting to look at himself in the mirror. He looks a little tired, but he was still wonderfully handsome. For a moment, as he looks at himself, he can hear his mother’s voice in his head. Oliver knows what she’d say now. “Oliver Stone, you’ve been shot! What are you thinking?” Oliver scoffs at her voice ringing through his head like a siren, mentally promising her that he’s fine. He’s not, but he’s not entirely aware of this right now.

Jake shows up half an hour later, standing at his doorstep with great posture and a handsome smile. Jake was someone random that Oliver slept with back in the day. He was tall but shorter than Oliver, brown hair with a grey streak. They were around the same age, though, which was a little baffling. It’s a miracle Oliver hasn’t gone grey yet. “Christ, you were really shot?” Jake questions, stepping inside as Oliver invites him in. The comment makes Oliver uneasy, truth be told. He didn’t want to think about that, he wanted to be distracted. “Are we gonna talk about me getting shot or are we gonna fuck? Pick one.” With that, Jake lunges forward, capturing Oliver in a deep kiss. It turns heated in seconds, clothes being shed, which was pretty inevitable. Nothing about this was fueled by love or care. It was passionate and dirty. It was Oliver on his back, his hand gripping the headboard that bangs loudly at the wall. It’s a man grunting in his ear, and low moans sounding at the back of Oliver’s throat. It’s his own cum on his stomach before trailing downwards, taking mysterious Jake into his mouth.

Being with someone on the outside made Oliver feel like he, himself, was also there too. One the outside, away from the chaos. It’s a way out, a hopeless distraction that will come to an end before his very eyes. But he savors every moment, even if the moment was a fleeting fuck as a way of distraction. Oliver continues to pass the night away with him, now out of breath, a sheen of sweat covering his chest. Jake rolls off of him after the fourth round, equally as breathless. Oliver’s shoulder begins to hurt a little, but he ignores it, and stares up at the ceiling. Jake does the same, but his good mood is seemingly more prominent. Oliver’s good mood seemed frantic in a way. 

“You good?” Jake asks, turning his head to him, hair falling in his eyes a little now. “Yeah, man, I’m good.” Oliver responds, clearing his throat a little after he speaks. The thing was, Oliver did feel good. He felt on top of the world. He feels foolish for ever dwelling on what happened at the clubhouse, what happened to him, what happened to the people he cared about. Oliver wanted to march right into his bathroom and toss his medication, right where his little notes of encouragement resided. With them, he missed the signs, or at least that’s what his brain wants him to believe.

Oliver can’t really sit still, so he moves to lie on his back, a smile spreading across his face. He looks over to Jake, “You know, I was thinking, maybe I can start a business. One that can be spread across the fuckin’ country, you know? It’s never too late to be a businessman. You know, I can take the auto-shop and make it mine or something. Be a real mechanic. I can be one of those hot shot business men who create something entirely new. Like a fuckin’ super bike or something. Picture it! One that can protect you! Bullet proof. Something like that. I have so many ideas for it.” Oliver’s words come out like a running facet, fast and a little too much at once. 

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, a subtle look of concern gracing his expression. “You’re — Are you sure you’re okay, Ollie?” The other man asks, and Oliver can only shake his head. “I’m great. Really. I feel amazing.” Oliver pounces on him then, feeling overwhelmingly excited in more ways than one. They go at it again, Jake leaving around five in the morning. He tells Oliver to get some sleep and he just nods, sending him on his way. Oliver will probably sleep for an hour, but he feels as though he has so much to do and so little time to do it. So, he gets to work.