#sergeant butterfly

[onenicebugperday]

Sergeant butterfly caterpillar, Athyma sp., Nymphalidae

Photographed in North Sumatra by Nicky Bay // Website // Facebook

Shared with permission; do not remove credit or re-post!

[islandtarochips]

I don't why Tumblr didn't show me this LONG time ago. I am sorry and it's alright if you're busy! We all are! Lol.

And oh boy, I feel sorry for Butterfly though. Her use to see Kanoa as a very bright person had become so dark so fast…But I am glad that she still wanted to check on Kanoa. Which he doesn't mind but he'll apologize to her for scaring her like that…

Even apologizing to Arjun as well. He understands that he was shocked to see this side of him. And Kanoa wishes he hadn't though. Thinking he finally came over this monster side of him. But yet…he is still too weak to hold back. He hoped that Arjun won't judge him of how he acted.

Khuuuuuuuuuushi! Question for your OCs reactions.

How would they react when they saw Kanoa, the most fun, the nicest and kind man they have ever met, goes feral?

Like something inside of him snapped and he just went on killing enemies that is front of him. Like he was not himself anymore. What would they do and how do they feel about this DIFFERENT Kanoa?

This is a veeeery late response so apologies from my side, but I also remember you talking about Kanoa showing his "murderous side" when he snaps out of it.

For that, their reactions would likely be shocked. Butterfly would be terrified to see this side of Noa because she was so used to seeing him being a gentle personality among others. Meanwhile, Arjun's reaction would likely be the same. He never knew that Toa was "this" disastrous when it came to killing enemies. It felt like they were seeing a different side of Kanoa they never saw before, and it was surprising.

But after things calmed down and they returned back to base, I could see Butterfly and Arjun checking out on him to make sure he was doing okay. Sorry my brain doesn't seem to work at the moment, I'm not feeling creative right now haha! But hope it answers your question 🤍

[firelilyfox]

Your laughter is my favorite sound

Pairing: 40s!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader Summary: Bucky got accepted into the army. Now he has to train to become a soldier. When the daughter of his General stumbles into the camp, he can't really think about something else. Wordcount: 1.9k Warnings: heavy flirting. indicated s3xual activity. Bucky has a crush on you. combat training. kissing.

__________________________________

December 1941

This is it. The U.S Army training camp. And Bucky never felt more at home in his entire life. 

As soon as he got the green light from his physical tests, he packed his bags and waited for the day he could join the other young men to train for combat. 

„Hey Barnes! Looks like we are bunk buddys“, his pal from the testing station calls out. He was a bulky kid with a never-ending smile on his face. Sometimes Bucky asked himself if it will vanish during their serving time or not. 

Bucky sat down on the bed next to his and smiled. „Great so I can hear you snoring the whole damn night.“ 

„Hey! I don’t snore at all. I’m a heavy breather.“ He defended himself, throwing a pillow at Buckys face. He caught it mid air and slap it on the head of his friend. 

The two young soldiers were laughing like little boys, when the door got opened. All other soldiers stood up simultaneously and lined up perfectly. Bucky noticed it and joined the line of young men, still holding the pillow in one hand. 

„Soldier. This is the first day of your training to become honorable men who serve our glorious country. I’m the General of this company and I’m responsible for all of you.“ The old man looked around with a stoic expression on his face. 

Bucky should’ve paid attention to him, but he couldn’t focus on his words because he was distracted. 

By a woman. He was distracted by you. 

He couldn’t believe his eyes, when he watched you step around the general and walked down the line of soldiers. Calm, controlled steps brought you to pass the men. They were listening to the general. But Bucky had only eyes for you. 

You’re wearing a uniform, just like them. Heavy boots on your feet and a piercing look on your face. 

I never saw someone so intimidating and beautiful at the same time. Bucky thought to himself. 

„May I introduce to you“, the Genreal pointing at you. „My daughter. And also the psychological support of this company section. She will judge your mental abilities to cope with stress and possible threats. If you want to serve in the Army, then her verdict will be crucial. Don’t mess up.“ 

You came to the end of the line, standing right in front of Bucky. He straightens his back and got up to his full size. He was about two heads taller than you. But it he’s got the feeling that won’t impress you much. 

Your eyes traveled over his full length and stopped at his hands. 

„What is that, Soldier?“ You asked. Bucky almost smiled because he liked the way your voice sounds. 

Bucky gulped. „A pillow, ma’am.“ 

You stepped closer to him and he followed your movements with his eyes. With a challenging spark you looked up to him. „Already tired of me, hm?“ 

Before he could stutter a pathetic excuse, the General gave a sign to get ready for the first combat training. You turned around on your heel and left Bucky stuttering to himself. 

„That was a hell of a first impression, Barnes.“ His friend beside him joked. 

Bucky smacked him with his pillow and flipped him off afterwards. But a sudden smile forced itself onto his lips. That could be interesting. 

It was really hard for Bucky to find a moment to talk to you alone. Weeks had passed and he didn’t get any chance to interact with you at all. Every time he entered the dining hall, you already had left. When he searched for your face in the crowd of dirty men, you were busy taking notes or talking to the Generals of the different companies. 

He almost gave up. But then he decided to go for a run late at night. Bucky had trouble to fall asleep, manly because of all the loudly snoring men in his bunker. The night was peaceful and quiet. The air warm and the sky clouded. Rain was about to come soon. 

He ran around the corner and saw someone sitting on the roof of a weapon shelter. The stone bunker was embedded into a small hill, with grass on the top. Two legs were dangling over the entrance. 

Bucky couldn’t hold back a smile when he realized it was you. Sitting up there, facing the sky. He jog over to the bunker. 

„Do you like to sit on guns at night?“ He asked. 

You dropped your gaze down to him. „Does this pickup line usually work for you?“ 

Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. He repeated his words again in his head and cringed immediately. 

„It sounded better in my head.“ 

You chuckled. It activated butterflies in his stomach. And Bucky knew he wanted to hear it again. 

„Why are you awake, Soldier?“ 

„You can call me Bucky“, he said while climbing up the hill and sat down beside you. With an honorable distance of course. The last thing he wanted was to scare you off. 

„Okay. Why are you awake, Soldier Bucky?“ You teased him. 

He shakes his head with a defeated smile. „Life threatening earthquakes, caused by the snoring of about sixty men. Makes it hard to fall asleep.“ 

A laugh escaped your lips. You tried to cover up your mouth with both hands, but the bright sound of your laughter was already etched deep in Bucky’s soul. 

„Sorry to hear that. But you don’t need a beauty sleep anyway.“ The second the words were spoken, your eyes widened in shock. Bucky assumed these were meant to stay silent thoughts, that unwillingly escaped your tongue. 

A smitten smile pulled on his lips. „So you think I’m pretty?“ 

You didn’t answer. Instead you jumped up and turned to leave without a word. Bucky failed to hold you back. 

Damn she’s fast. He thought, punching himself mentally for screwing up. Bucky could only watch you leave him up on the hill, wondering how someone so confident (and still intimidating) can be so easily flustered by a joke. 

Bucky smiled, knowing that from this moment, he wouldn’t give up on you. He will get another chance, even if he has to work for it. 

The following days, you were nowhere to be found. Not even in the office of the General. Which made Buckys surprise even bigger, when you joined the company for combat training. 

You walked around the paired up soldiers, watching their skills closely. Successfully avoiding getting to close to him. Bucky wouldn’t let his chance slide, so he came up with an idea. 

„You have to punch me.“

His friend frowned confused. „I’m trying.“ 

„No I mean really punch me. As hard as you can. Make it hurt.“ Bucky followed you out of the corner of his eye. 

„Are you drunk? Why do you want me to hurt you?“ He asked.

Bucky groaned impatient. „I want her to get over here so I can talk to her.“ 

He followed when Bucky nodded in your direction. „You really think that will work? She is way out of your league.“ 

„Yeah no shit! But I still have to try.“ 

„Fiiine.“ His friend sighted. 

And he punched Bucky right in the face. Bucky helped a bit, by tripping and falling to the ground. 

„Uh- uhm we need some help over here!“ His pal called out. 

„What are you doing?“, Bucky hissed at him. 

„I though you wanted her to come over..?“ He replied through his teeth so only Bucky could hear him. 

„Yeah but-…“ 

„What’s wrong?“ You asked as you reached them. 

Bucky reacted fast. „Oh uhm - I think he needs to go to the nurse and let them treat his hand. He has very sensitive bones.“ 

His friend almost contradicted, but instead grabbed his wrist with a painful expression. „Oh yeah. His face hurt my hand really bad.“ 

You rolled your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb. „Fine. Go, Soldier.“ 

Before you could turn back around again, Bucky stood up blocking your way. „I still need another combat partner.“ 

„And let me guess; you want me to be that?“ You assumed, already straightened your shoulders. 

„I will be careful, I promise.“ Bucky said with a crooked smile. He lowered his voice. „Because I think you’re pretty too and I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.“ 

He wanted it so sound playful but the last part slipped out a bit more serious than he had in mind. Because it was the truth. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. Never. 

You blinked in surprise, as if you understood the true meaning behind his teasing words. But you quickly recover and put on a feisty face. With a combination of quick movements, you were able to surprise him and land a high kick on his shoulder. Not hard but clearly making a point. 

„You talk to much“, you huffed, landing another hit. 

It was like a dance between two strangers that’ve become more and more comfortable with each other. Bucky was surprised about the fighting skills you pulled on him. He never saw you train with the other soldiers, so he didn’t knew what you were capable of. But he always learned quickly. He managed to get a hold on you and captured your wrists in his hands. 

„I still don’t know your name“, he said with a low voice. 

You blushed. It could be the heat of movement, but Bucky could’ve sweared he saw your cheeks get a little darker. 

You got up on your tiptoes, lean closer to him. Bucky could feel your breath on his neck. „Why? Do you want me to make you scream my name?“ 

Buckys body reacted and froze immediately. His grip weakened around your wrists and he watched you with big, round puppy eyes. You gave him a evil wink … and hooked your leg behind his to send him to the ground with one hard push. He dropped like a wet bag of clothes, unable to defend himself after what you just said. You may be weaker than him, but way smarter. 

„It was nice to talk to you, Soldier Bucky.“ 

He watched you leave, still speechless. This woman will be the death of me. 

Later that day he couldn’t resist to sneak out again. The night was quiet and he managed to search for your quarters. Bucky didn’t knew what he expected you to say, when he knocked on your door. Would you be mad? Insult him and telling the General about his inappropriate behavior towards his daughter? 

He for sure didn’t expect for you to just tilt your head and smile. 

„You make me question everything, you know that? Is your name Mixed Signals by any chance? Because I’m getting the …“ 

„Bucky“, you mumbled grabbing his collar. „You talk to much.“ 

You pulled him down and his lips crashed into yours. At first he hesitated in surprise. Never could’ve he guessed your next move and certainly not this one. But then he leaned into the kiss. He rested his rough hands on your waist, pulling you closer. 

He pulled away by a few inches. „You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.“ 

You smiled. „Stop waiting then. And do something.“ 

Bucky didn’t have to be told twice. He grabbed your thighs and pulled you up, so you could wrap your legs around his waist. With a careless nudge, he pushed the door closed behind you, while still claiming your lips. 

When your back hit the mattress, a little squeak escaped your throat, followed by giggles. Bucky pulled away. His blue eyes were sparkling as he looked down at you, softly brushing his fingers over your cheek. 

„Your laughter is my favorite sound.“ 

You melted beneath his strong, defined body. „Let me show you another sound for that list.“ 

____________________________

Thank you so much for reading! All interactions are highly appreciated (but please don't steal my work)

Bucky Barnes Masterlist

[internetdruid]

💚🐌💚

Athyma selenophora

[islandtarochips]

Gotta Say "I Love You!"

Kanoa, was dropping off Tiala to meet with Gaz, Soap and Scarlet for their double dates: Got everything, sis? Tiala, was grabbing her things: Yup. Got everything. Thanks for dropping me off, Noa. Kanoa: Of course! I just want you to have fun. And also, Tia? Tiala, looked at Kanoa: Yeah? Kanoa, smiled at her: I love you. Tiala, smiled back a little: Yeah, I know. I'll see you when I get back. *closed the door and walked towards the cafe where the gang was at* Kanoa: ......*using a megaphone* You gotta say “I love you” back! Tiala, jolted to hear Kanoa with the megaphone and blushed as she looked back at Kanoa: Bro! Are you serious?! *Gaz saw this as Soap and Butterfly snickered* Kanoa: I wanna hear it! ☺️ Tiala: YOU wanna hear me say in front of THEM?! Kanoa: "I love you BRO!" Tiala: You’re dropping me off here! In front of the SERGEANTS! Kanoa: I love you BRO!😁 Soap: WOW.🤣 Butterfly: Oh my gosh.🤭 Gaz: *smiled a bit* Tiala: LOOK AT THIS PLACE! Kanoa, pointed at Tiala: "Bro, I LOVE YOU!” Tiala, sighed and smiled at her brother: Bro…I love you. Kanoa: That’s a copy~ 😉

Arthur's Note: One of Kanoa's LOVE language is to embarrassed you in a GOOD way. Lol.

Characters:

Kanoa Toa -> Me

Tiala "Shark" Toa -> Me

Samantha "Scarlet" Wright -> @welldonekhushi

Inspo Vid:

[urtopia]

Staff Sergeant Butterfly Chrysalis

[homemade-clones]

On his very first shore leave, Tooka lost a bet (that he swears was rigged). As consequence, he had to get a tramp stamp tattoo.

[islandtarochips]

Tiala: ……I beg your pardon?

Gaz: !!! I-I mean, “EXCUSE ME!” EXCUSE ME! *making an awkward exit*

Tiala: ……ok?

Soap, trying not to laugh: SMOOTH, Garrick~ REAL smooth~

Gaz, blushing in embarrassment: SHUT UP! Unlike YOU can do better!

Soap: Heh. I might~ That’s how I got Scarlet~

I love this one! Gaz is SO gorgeous at this angle! Such a pretty man! Beautiful art as always!

Samantha “Scarlet” Wright - @welldonekhushi

Tiala “Shark” Toa - Me

Art by @temeyes

POV: you bump into Sergeant Garrick for the first time

[incorrect101dalmatians]

Tibbs: Any other questions? Dipstick: If every person on Earth aimed a laser pointer at the moon at the same time, would it change color? Tibbs: Any relevant questions?

[beloveds-embrace]

Too tired to actually write it out fully but like. For this reader is really a social butterfly and I mean- they are also very much a Beacon of comfort and warmth (and emotional support). In other words, very approachable.

It started with the rookies. Fresh from training and overwhelmed, they sought you out for solace, drawn by your approachable demeanor. In the mess hall, a young beta hesitantly sat across from you, his voice trembling as he confessed doubts about his first mission. You listened, reassured him, and with a gentle touch and a soft purr, helped him leave with a steadier heart.

Operators at every rank seek you out. Betas unloaded their worries about leadership; omegas found in you a quiet refuge, judgment; and even alphas, reluctant at first, admitted their struggles.

One alpha, stiff and self-conscious, confided about feeling left behind during training. You placed a comforting hand on her arm, your soft purr easing her tension. She leaves your corner of the barracks noticeably lighter.

Even the seasoned operators gravitated to you. Late one night, a gruff sergeant unburdened himself about the pressures of command, harsh exterior melting as your touch and soothing purr eased the strain.

And then there was even König, a Colonel.

He approached you after a grueling day, hesitating in the mess hall doorway before shuffling toward your quiet corner. His towering frame seemed to shrink with uncertainty.

“Corporal.” he’d said, low and halting.

“Yes, sir?”

König sat stiffly, hands fidgeting as silence stretched between you, and you simply understood. You reached out, your hand resting lightly on his arm. He froze, his breath hitching, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you began to purr softly, the sound filling the space like a comforting hum.

Bit by bit, his rigid posture eased. He didn’t speak, but his body relaxed under your steady warmth. By the time he left, his step was lighter, his tension unwound.

A refuge for all, that’s what you were.

The base was always a melting pot of emotions- stress, frustration, fear- and you, a constant balm to soothe it. A medic curled into your side after a harrowing shift, your arm around them as your purr vibrated softly. A hardened beta sergeant, known for his gruffness, sat beside you on a cold night, his shoulders easing as you rubbed comforting circles on his back.

No one was immune to the calm you offered, your touch and natural warmth breaking through barriers no words could. Around you, the chaos of military life faded, replaced by a sense of safety.

It wasn’t something you planned or thought much about. It was simply who you were- a quiet refuge in the storm.

For everyone, except the one pack you wanted to be part of

[bi-writes]

Your MOB au gives me so many butterflies 🥴 I hear the key to a long and happy marriage is to be with someone you think is funny. How do you think Simon and his wife make each other laugh? I can see them being the couple that gossips while people watching or MOB wrangles Simon in bed to show him funny cat videos on her phone.

mail-order bride

simon likes spending time with you without screens. he does love watching a movie with you, but one of his favorite ways to spend time with you is to open a little closet of board games and play one of them with you. he'll put on a little music, spread out the game, and you usually spend the evening sitting in his lap and playing either on the couch or on the floor using the coffee table or at the dining table.

"simon, what would you do if i was a worm?"

simon raises a brow, fitting a corner piece of the puzzle into place. he snorts a bit.

"wot are y'on, love?"

"i'm serious!" you laugh. "what would you do if i was a worm?"

"step on you, baby. you'd be a fuckin' worm. gross."

you pout a little, dramatically, and simon winks at you.

"olright, love. i'd put ya in a little box and cherish ya foreva. tha' wot y'wanna hear?"

you giggle, settling in his lap, picking up an edge piece and putting it in its spot.

"yeah. that's what i wanna hear."

"simon, look."

you hold out your phone in bed, shoving it in his face. he grunts a little, squinting at the bright screen, and he raises a brow as he watches a compilation of orange cat videos put together. he chuckles a little when he sees it, leaning over the bed and planting a kiss on your cheek. he rolls over onto his side, curling a big arm around your waist and pulling you back into his chest. he tucks his face over your shoulder, leaning over you, and you spend the better part of an hour giggling to yourself as you show simon the collection of videos on your feed.

the next morning, your phone pings while simon is away on base. you hurry out of the kitchen, wiping your floury hands on the apron you wear before seeing a request for a new follower.

you open the app, raising a brow when you look at the account without a profile picture asking to follow your private account.

pumpkin__eater141 wants to follow you.

you click on the profile, rolling your eyes when you see the only picture on the account a very grainy, filtered photo of two sergeants sticking their tongues out and holding up bunny ears behind each other. in the background, very blurry, you can see a glimpse of a skeleton-bone painted glove holding up a middle finger. the caption reads wankerzzz!!!!

the account has 1 follower (sudz_n_budz141), and it follows none, and you can't help but smile when you see the profile has nothing but a cherry emoji as the description.

you accept the follow request, and you follow them back. the whole day, every so often, you get a new video as a direct message. when you finish with the sourdough and leave it to rise, you start to scroll through the intermittent messages you've already gotten.

more cat videos. crazy dashcam footage with the comment "fuckin' mad." some woman who makes crockpot meals with every kind of bagged cheese you can get at the store on high for five hours.

you can't stop smiling. and when you pull out a pot to make dinner later, you and simon make eye contact before laughing.

"olright, baby, which one ya want?" simon murmurs, nuzzling his mask against your cheek. you giggle, looking up at the display. there's stuffed bears, big squishmallows, pillows. you reach a hand up behind you and caress the back of his neck, biting your lip until you point up at the big cherry squishmallow hanging by the top.

"gotta hit all the glasses to get that one, mate," the attendant says, and you look over your shoulder up at him.

"ooooo...not sure if you can hit all your targets, lieutenant riley?" you ask, and simon snorts, kissing your jaw through the mask before making his way towards the game counter. he picks up the toy rifle, adjusting it in his grip before holding the sight up and taking his stance. you bite your lip watching him. he looks incredibly sexy with that thing in his arms, even if its a fake. it's even sexier hearing the bell ring and watching your husband with terrifying precision knock every glass bottle down. one after the other, each glass falls, and you squeeze your legs together slightly as he goes for a bonus round and knocks them all over again, even quicker.

he turns around when he has your prize in his hands, a big fluffy cherry with a little smile and a little green leaf hat. you squeeze it to your chest before standing on your toes, and simon leans down to peck your lips through the mask. he wraps a big arm around your waist, and when you both pull back, you can't help your big smile, the laughter, that sweet, pretty shine in your eyes.

simon laughs, too.

it's easy when you're this happy.

[lostintransist]

Butterflies in Blood

AO3 | Part 1

15 Months Prior

“What the fuck is wrong with you two?” Price roared at you and Maria like a bear.

He had the two of you standing in parade rest in his office as he paced back and forth. The actions reminded you of a wolf you had seen once, kept as entertainment and not treated like an animal with needs.

It hadn’t been your fault this time. Really, it hadn’t.

You had it handled, but Maria had walked in on an incident—a captain from a different company had been pushing his advances on you—and when she swung on him…well, the opportunity to do something about all the vile back and forth hate you got from the men on base was one you couldn’t pass up.

“Captain Price, Maria is not at fault here,” you bite your tongue as flame blue eyes scorch across your skin.

“Sergeant,” his words crunched, like peppercorns between mortar and pestle, “Your speaking privileges are revoked.”

The eye twitch was beyond your control. If the military didn’t make it so damn hard to get access to a surgery you needed without committing to another few years of service, you would have put your walking papers in that instant. The last doctor you had talked to about it had cautioned against it.

“It’s not a medically necessary procedure, and you’re climbing the ranks. The recovery time on a surgery like this is a bare minimum of six months, and to get you back into the shape you are now? I would estimate another year.” The tip of your boot, ticking back and forth from where it rested on your knee, took your focus.

“Doc, I’m gonna level with you.” Your voice broke on the last word. It had a tendency to do that at the worst times. “It’s more of a quality of life thing for me. I didn’t join up with any great ambitions of ‘saving the world’ or rising through the ranks. The military would take me when my family didn’t want me, and the insurance coverage meant I could make the adjustments I need to live comfortably in this body. All I’m asking for is for you to help me by getting the paperwork started, and let me worry about all the other logistics.”

He had looked at you for a long time, a bit of a staring contest, while the doctor thought it over. With a sigh, he turned to his computer.

“Are your other medications still working for you?”

“Yeah, bit of a transition getting used to them, but it’s helping. A lot.” You shift in your chair, setting both feet on the floor. He didn’t laugh at your attempt at a joke.

“Good, how is your sleep? Any changes to your sex drive?” The keys clacked away under the doctor’s fingers as he worked on his notes.

“Sleep has gotten better, oddly enough; sex drive is off the charts, so that’s annoying.” You rub the back of your neck, uncomfortable thinking about how you had to touch yourself nearly every night to keep from waking up in a cold sweat of need.

Doc laughed loud, “I’ve heard that can happen on this medication. I’ll work on getting the paperwork entered for surgery. We’ll need to keep meeting regularly to keep the order valid until you are ready.”

Maria’s shouting brought you out of the memories.

“—ot is out here spewing hate, but the second they got them behind a closed door, the fucker would have gone as far as rape—”

“That is enough, Sergeant!” Price broke in with a snap.

Maria, you had learned had what she called an emotional float gauge. She could ride out most things, taking revenge in the dark on people who wronged her, and more recently, you, but if the levels got too high? Hell broke loose. All the trapped rage of growing up under a matriarchal society that had been collared by men would come spewing out of her.

“It’s not! You let this happen, and I should have done more than break his jaw.”

“Fifty laps of the base for both of you. By sundown. And sergeant,” he pointed specifically at you, “Your speaking privileges remain revoked.”

You and Maria finished those fifty laps, barely. You hadn’t been run that hard since basic, vomiting out the stomach acid that had been nipping at the budding ulcer you had yet to get medication for. You had gotten stress ulcers since you were twelve. Puberty fucked you.

“What…an..asshole,” Maria panted out between each word from where she lay on the ground, arms and legs akimbo.

Feed spread wide, hands bracing them for support, you heaved in breaths, you replied.

“The..best…usually..are.”

“Second sergeant, one more lap for speaking!” Gaz’s voice rang out over the courtyard.

Sergeants MacTavish and Garrick had been promoted to first sergeants with the arrival of you and Maria. That distinction between first and second was enough that you had to follow the command. Sucking a breath in through your teeth, you force your legs to move again.

Maria is peeling herself off the ground to fight with Gaz about the order when you round the building. The space between steps is filled with static. Fuck. At some point, you run into something that gives. Your vision is getting weak, but you have to keep going, so you push around whatever barrier appears in your path and keep plodding past. The sounds that follow you don’t make sense. Of all the languages you are able to dabble in, none of what reaches you seems like words.

A hand on your arm wrenches you to a stop. Gaz appears when you blink to focus. Concern pinches his eyebrows. One more blink. Then your body violently rejects the overwork, and you are twisting and vomiting blood onto your boots even as the ground rises to meet you.

When you woke, it was to the bounce of a knee. Eyes adjusting to seeing again, you look around and find Roach at your side. You were in medical, an IV in your hand and a bag of fluid hanging to drip into your line.

He stared at your knee, arms folded, knee bouncing, and hair disheveled like he had run his hands through it too many times.

“I was there when you went down. Vomiting blood was a great touch to send my heart into a panic. Got you to medical with Gaz and went to find Price. He told me what happened—with the other captain and afterward. He didn’t appreciate me yelling at him that if he wanted to kill one of his own soldiers, next time to use a bullet instead of acting like a coward.”

You opened your mouth to reply. Roach cut of your words before they began with the slash of a hand.

“I am under orders to help maintain your silence. I told him if this went on longer than five days, he would have a mutiny on his hands.” His eyes cut to you, startling with the intensity behind his brown irises. “I know why he and the other guys are weird about you. Frankly, I don’t give a rat’s ass what medication you need to get through the day or the haircuts that make you feel real. You’re a good soldier, and I’d like to think we’re becoming friends. That’s enough for me.”

Roach held vigil as tears streaked down your face. Acceptance, true acceptance, you had found to be rarer than hen’s teeth.

Part 6

Masterlist | Taglist

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[welldonekhushi]

Music Wednesday + Moodboard

Tagged by @sweet-samnang and @islandtarochips

Samantha "Butterfly" Wright 🦋

Aditya "Surya" Tripathi ☀️

Tagging: @pingurusama @imagoddamnonionmason @iamcautiouslyoptimistic @ghostgirlvii @sunarteater @lorvdz

[firingstars]

in this life | ch. 5

bucky barnes x female reader

summary: "There's only one God, doll, and He's gonna bring me back to you." "I don't need God," you told him, fresh tears brimming over your eyes. "I just need you."

warnings: 18+, mdni, brief descriptions on an injury/blood, reader momentarily gets depressed, reincarnation trope, language, mentions of financial instability/being hungry, memories are written with italicizes, no use of y/n, angst, yearning, longing, everyone's alive no one is dead because i said so, alternating pov's

word count: 5.7k

a/n: idk why this chapter was kinda difficult for me to write... i know how i want the story to end and its already written out and ready but idk whats going on the middle of this story is irking me

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Unknown [10:14am]: What does Traumatic Memory Rehabilitation Science actually entail? I tried Googling it, but I didn't find anything on the subject.

You stared at your phone for a few moments, hiding the device behind your laptop screen. You were in the middle of a lecture, and your professor would definitely call you out if he saw you right now. Of course, it didn’t matter to him that he was going on and on about how his wife was somehow related to this neuroscience class and there must be something wrong with her pathways in her mind for her to leave him. Sometimes you think this class was just an easy way for your professor to be able to rant to people that had no choice but to listen.

You put your phone face down, and pulled up the messages on your laptop. At the very least, you could look like you were taking notes. 

Me [10:17am]: science that focuses on how trauma affects the structure and function of memory, and how the patient’s memories could be stabilized, restored, or rewritten in ethical ways. could be natural trauma or artificial trauma given by outside means

Unknown [10:19am]: Artificial trauma?

Me [10:21am]: wasn’t a huge part of why america didn’t want to give you that pardon bc of what that organization did to you? and your lawyers argued that it wasn’t your mind there?

Unknown [10:22am]: Ah. I see.

Unknown [10:23am]: I didn’t know you kept up with the case.

Me [10:26am]: my grandpa was still around when you were going through it. he would talk my ear off on the phone about how you were being treated awfully by the country and was part of the support groups outside the courtroom demanding a fairer sentence for you.

Me [10:27am]: and it was pretty big news, sergeant. 

Bucky doesn’t respond, and you think you may have scared him off. After saving his phone number officially in your contacts as Sergeant Barnes, you close the messaging app. You go through the rest of your class, finishing off with another surprise quiz that you thankfully knew all the answers to, and head off to grab something to eat before going to the library to study. 

You should apologize to him, you think. It may have been a lot to say all of that, all of a sudden. It could still be a sensitive topic for him, and you may have brought up a bunch of memories for him that you didn’t mean to. You want to hit yourself over the head. Your field of study is meant to help people like him, and yet you just caused issues for him. 

You really could use a shot. Tequila. Vodka. Something strong. But it’s barely noon, and you still have the rest of your day ahead of you. 

You push open the door to the Campus Grounds, and stop in your tracks. 

You didn’t scare him off. 

Your eyes fall on his figure almost instantly. Buckty’s wearing that same leather jacket that he always seems to wear. He looks a little cleaner today, beard a little shorter than the last time you saw him. The dark circles under his eyes are lighter, an indication of more sleep. His shoulders aren’t wound up too tight either.

And he turns to you, as if he’s been waiting for you this entire time. Your heart flutters as caterpillars hatch from their cocoons and turn into butterflies in your stomach.

“Doll,” he greeted. The nickname still makes your mind run circles, but you force yourself back into reality as you focus on his next words. “Fancy seeing you here. Didn’t know you came here, too.”

“At my university’s cafe?” you asked, tilting your head. “The university where I attend school? Spend a majority of my day at?”

Bucky cleared his throat, obviously caught. “Stark told me that the food here was good. I’m expanding my palate…” The man before you pauses, eyebrows furrowing at the menu. “What the hell is a matcha?”

“Depends. Do you want it iced or hot?” you chuckled, stepping into the line.

“How do you take it?”

“Iced, with oat milk, and a pump of vanilla,” you answered. 

Bucky looked a bit helpless at your words, so you repeated the order back at the barista, including two ham and cheese croissant sandwiches to be warmed up as well before giving her your phone number to use your meal points. 

When the drinks come out, you watch as Bucky takes an experimental sip before looking a little confused at the flavors on his tongue before seemingly accepting whatever was going on. You let out a small laugh.

“Not bad?” you guess.

“Not bad,” he agreed, following you as you make your way out towards the door. You hand him his croissant. “What’s your plans today?”

“Studying. We’re towards the end of the semester, and I have finals coming up in a few weeks. I’ll graduate in the winter once I’m done with the upcoming term.”

“Impressive,” Bucky hummed beside you, taking a bite of his croissant. 

“Any Avengers need a therapist?” you asked, glancing at him. Thankfully, he doesn’t look too bothered by your text conversation from earlier this morning. If he was, you were sure that he wouldn’t even be here, still walking beside you right now.

The man chuckled beside you, smiling. “None of them wants to admit that right now.”

“Pity,” you said sarcastically. After a beat, you added, “Sorry. If my message to you earlier was a bit heavy.”

“Not at all,” he shook his head, “I just started driving, so I couldn’t reply.”

“Ah.” So you were overthinking it. Makes sense. 

“It would’ve been nice,” he cleared his throat before continuing, “If your field of study was finalized and completed when I was first put back out in the world. I think it would’ve been helpful for me to be regulated back into society.”

You give him a small smile. “Sorry about that. Took me a bit to decide what I wanted to study. Took a few years of a gap year before I went back to school.”

Bucky chuckled, and took another sip of his matcha latte. It looked like it was growing on him. Either that, or he just wasn’t picky about food. 

“You’ll have plenty of opportunities to help people other than me,” he told you. 

“I hope so. Otherwise all this student debt will be for fucking nothing,” you grunt. Another smaller laugh escapes his lips, and you find that the noise awakens a small flutter in your chest that will keep you feeling warm and fuzzy. 

Your feet come to a slow as you stop at the library commons, and you turn to look at Bucky. He looks back at the building briefly before turning to you, giving you a small smile and nod.

“Well. Happy studying,” he said, albeit a little awkwardly.

“Is that all? You just came here to get some matcha and walk me to my university’s library?”

“I just wanted to see your face today,” he admitted. 

You really didn’t expect him to be so upfront with his words. You couldn’t help the smile that came to your face. You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent your lips from curling even wider than they already were.

“I would say I would FaceTime you later so you can see my face again, but I noticed that the message bubbles I sent you weren’t blue. What do you have? Android?”

“Uh. Flip phone.”

You stared at him for a brief second, searching his face for the joke. 

There was none.

“I’ll call you later,” you settled on.

“I’ll wait for it,” he replied, letting out a breath of relief.

Adding calling Bucky to the list of things to do every night was as easy as adding something to your nighttime skincare routine. First step: remove makeup with micellar water. Follow up with a makeup balm. Wash your face with a cleanser. Pat dry with a towel. Use a toner. Moisturize. Call Bucky.

The first night had your heart racing on whether or not you should even call him, too. You were pacing around in your apartment. You stared at your phone on your bed as if it was a bomb that you had to defuse within the next few moments. You told him that you would call, but it was past midnight and you just got off your shift. You had no idea what the bedtime schedule was like for an Avenger, but you told him that you would call. Eventually, you decided that you would at least try to call. If he didn’t answer, then you would send a follow up text for an apology.

Bucky answered right away.

“Thought you weren’t gonna call,” is what he said as soon as the line connected.

“Wasn’t sure if you were still going to be awake,” you replied softly.

“You said you were gonna call. I waited.”

You aren’t sure why your chest squeezed at those words. You swallowed thickly, and took in a shaky breath as you clutched the phone tighter in your hands, trying to formulate another sentence to force out past your lips.

“You know I only work night shifts at the diner, right? I always close,” you told him.

“I know.”

“Then you don’t have to stay awake because I say stuff like that. What if I didn’t call you? Would you stay awake all night next to your phone until I called?” you asked. You weren’t scolding him, you weren’t badgering him– you were just a little stressed. A little worried. 

“I knew you would,” he replied. There was so much certainty in his voice. The steadiness. 

“How are you so sure?”

“I just knew you would.” Again, there was nothing in his words that wavered. 

You paused, letting it sink in for a few moments as your heart thumped in your chest. You dug your nails into your palm, allowing the bite against your skin remind you that this was reality, and you were alive at this very moment.

“Do you want me to keep calling you?” you asked in a whisper.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” he said. A pause. “I like hearing your voice, too.”

From that point forth, Bucky continued to answer every single call without fail. Most of the time, each call was answered within the first ring. Sometimes the call went to the second, but never the third. Your calls had never gone to voicemail once. It was almost as if he anticipated your calls every single night.

You began to look forward to every single one of your calls. It became the highlight of your day, the thing that you looked forward to most after the long and stressful day.

By the second week of your nightly calls, you were really appreciating it. He helped you study. You would have your phone on speaker, on your desk beside your textbooks as you pulled out concepts and verbiage from your brain as if you were teaching a lesson to him, and ask him if he understood a single thing that you just told him. Sometimes you would text him your study guides and he would test you, then let you know what you needed to improve on. You were certain that he heard you slam your forehead on your desk several times over the past fourteen days.

Moreover, Bucky was not much of a talker, which meant that he was a great listener. When you were done studying, your phone would be resting beside your pillow as you laid down. The lights would be turned off and you would close your eyes as you talked to him.

It was as if he knew you were drifting off to sleep. His voice would be softer during these moments. Lower, slightly gravely. Sometimes, both of you would get a little bit more vulnerable in your sleepier states. 

“You should really sleep earlier,” he would tell you. “Your health might take a hit if you keep this habit up.”

“I don’t particularly enjoy sleeping,” you confessed to him.

“It’s good for you. Especially with the amount of studying that you do.”

You sigh deeply, pulling your blankets higher up your body. “I know, I know. I just… I don’t sleep well. I wake up and I’m sad. I wake up and I wish I never woke up. And I don’t mean that in a… sad, depressed way– even though it sounds like it. I just want to stay in my dreams.”

Bucky was quiet for a few moments. “You mean the dreams about the soldier?”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “Does that sound pathetic?”

“No,” he answered without skipping a beat. “It means you’re happy there.”

“Then doesn’t that mean I’m sad out here?” you ask with a soft laugh.

“You tell me. Are you?”

It’s your turn to fall silent. You don’t know how much or how little time has passed in your sleepy state before you finally answer, “I think I’m not as sad since I met you.”

“That’s good. I think I enjoy life a little more, too.”

“Even though all I talk to you about is the ethics and neuroscience of trauma?” you joke.

“I have a lot of trauma myself, so it’s interesting to know how the trauma affects the neural pathways of my brain and the rest of my body,” he responds with a soft chuckle.

“Mm… Just wait until I get to the section on how your muscles hold all that trauma. It’s not just your brain, Sergeant,” you murmur, shifting deeper into your pillow. 

“I have seventy years of muscular and mental trauma. How long do you think that will take to undo?” 

“You can’t undo trauma, Bucky,” you hum. “I can teach you how to live with it, to learn how to regain yourself from the experiences that you’ve been through– but you can’t undo what ultimately has brought you here. Your trauma isn’t you. But what you do with the trauma is what’s important. Do you carry it and let it weigh you down? Do you let it fuel you and all your rage? Or do you let it be the reason to be a better person?”

“I wish you were my therapist when I had to have one,” he tells you after a few moments, his voice soft. 

Bucky doesn’t choose to elaborate on the topic of trauma any further, or tell you more about his past. You already have a decent understanding of what the Winter Soldier is and what he did based on what was leaked to the public years ago. You don’t push him when he decides to brush it off.

You let out a small laugh, smiling into your sheets. “Don’t forget to tell your Avenger friends about me.”

“I think I might keep you all to myself, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think I mind that, either.”

Sometimes, Peter disappears without a trace and MJ gets irritable. However, she knows what she signed up for when she became Spider-Man’s girlfriend. She knows that she can’t be too upset with him, though Peter really does try to let her know whenever he leaves. Peter just has a one track mind. He hyper focuses on one thing and forgets everything else. 

Bucky doesn’t do that with you. You got a message from him a few days ago letting you know that he will be busy. You expected it to come sooner or later. You were surprised that it wasn’t sooner. Bucky has a job– a very demanding job. One that you can’t ever imagine yourself being in that world or in that kind of life. However, he still communicates with you, which is more than you can say Peter does with MJ. 

Sergeant Barnes [7:27am]: I will not be able to make our meetings for the next few days. I will let you know when I am back in the city. Will be in Malaysia. My phone will be off. 

Me [7:30am]: stay safe bucky

Sergeant Barnes [7:31am]: Always.

The fact that he calls your nightly calls a meeting makes you smile at your phone. You think he’s cute. His age is also showing from the way that he texts you, but you decide to let it slide. If you think about it realistically, the man is only in his early to mid thirties if you’re doing the math right. You’re well aware he was born in 1917, but with the amount of time that he had lost in between with everything that went on with his life— that is an age gap that you can get behind.

“What are you smiling so wide about right now?” MJ grunted, hitting your hip with hers as she walked by. “Table seven needs refills.”

“I was already on my way,” you shoot back, picking up the water pitcher as you fix your grin. 

You’re overthinking, you’re pretty certain. He’s a friend. There’s nothing more to the calls that have been going on every night since you said you would call him. You don’t hang on to every single word he says like it’s a prayer, and you certainly don’t find yourself lulling yourself to bed to his soft whispers every single night like it’s a lullaby. Your mood hasn’t improved the past few weeks, and you’re not smiling more often. You’re definitely not more energized even though you’re losing more sleep by staying up an extra hour later to talk to him longer on the phone, and lying to him by saying that you truly do sleep that late anyways.

You’re a goner and you know it– and you’ve only seen the man in person a handful of times. You were more than certain that he was haunting your mind more than you were haunting his. 

“You look like shit,” you told MJ once the night was over. “Tonight wasn’t even all that bad.”

MJ glared at you as she clocked out on the computer, and waited for you to do the same so you two could walk out together. Your routes home were the same part of the way until they diverged. 

“Peter’s still gone. Still have no idea where he is or when he’s coming back,” she muttered, shoving her arms through the sleeves of her jacket haphazardly. You think she’s crazy for even wearing a jacket in the middle of summer, but you don’t mention it with her current mood. “So yes, I am a little pissed off.”

“Did he leave in the middle of the night again?” you asked, closing down the computer.

“No, he woke me up this time,” she sighed. You two walked out the back, locking the door behind you. “Still, it was really early in the morning and he didn’t explain much before he left. Though, he really can’t ever explain much.”

“I’m sorry, MJ,” you said, a small cringe running through your body. You really can’t imagine what she’s going through.

Though, then again, you’re not even sure why Bucky felt the need to tell you that he was going off the grid for a few days. Or even why he told you where he was going for the mission, either. You were certain that was some kind of classified information if even MJ couldn’t know– if Peter wouldn’t tell her before he left. 

Was it a mistake? Did he mean to tell you all of that information? Or was something going on through his mind that made him accidentally send that to you when he didn’t mean to. Either way, you had more information than MJ, and you weren’t even sure if you were allowed to tell her. You weren’t totally sure what telling her would even do. There would be no purpose in giving her the location. Malaysia was a large place– the Avengers could be everywhere and anywhere. Besides that, maybe Bucky and Peter weren’t even in the same area doing the same mission.

You decided to keep your mouth shut, even though you didn’t feel particularly good about it. Then again, you’ve held enough secrets of your own from your friends over the years. You have a lot of your own issues that they don’t know, and you’re more than certain they will never find out.

Maybe that’s why you feel a certain attachment to Bucky. He knows about your dream soldier boy, and never judged you for it. He brought him up once or twice, too. Bucky knows more about you in the past few weeks that you’ve known him versus the past few years that you have known your friends.

It makes you feel guilty, in a way. Peter has shared his own secrets with you– something that he had no obligation to share with you. It was something that was originally held between the three of them, but he felt that you were important enough to know about it. MJ has some familial issues and has problems letting people close to her, but she still finds herself opening up to you and starting conversations with you more than you start them with her. You’re not super close with Ned, but you know the guy is more than happy to talk to you about any kind of project that he’s working on at the moment. Both him and Peter enjoy spilling whatever information they can spare on whatever work they’re doing.

And yet, you’ve never told them the real reason why you’re studying what you study.

You wish MJ a good night, and tell her to get some rest as your paths split and she heads down her road to her place that she shares with Peter. You make your way down to your own.

New York’s summer nights are muggy. Slightly humid, but better than when the sun is out and beating down on your skin like it’s trying to wear you down. It’s not bad at all, seeing as you’ve lived here for the majority of your life, but you can still see yourself moving out of this busy city and somewhere quieter. 

Away from this nonsense and drama. Maybe you’d be able to run away from your own head if you tried hard enough.

You push the thought away as you push your apartment door open. It’s creaky, and you know you need to spray drown the hinges with WD-40 again.

You toe your sneakers off and hang your purse on the hooks that you nailed to the wall when you first moved in— holes that you would have to fill later on when you eventually move out if you want your security deposit back. Your feet ache against the creaking floorboards that are only slightly dampened by the carpet runner that you put in the entranceway of your apartment. 

You hate this place, as much as you try to deny it. 

You despise the overhead lighting that you never flicker on because it’s too bright, but you also never turn on the various amounts of mood lighting that you thrifted from corner stores because you simply can’t be bothered. You can’t stand the way your landlord sometimes forgets to pay the building’s AC bill, even though you slave away every single day to pay your rent and utilities. You shouldn’t have to suffer for some fucking comfort in your own home. 

You hate the cheap mattress that you barely could afford, that you cried when you bought— not out of happiness, but because you knew you wouldn’t be able to eat real meals for the next week until your next paycheck hit. 

This entire place was a death sentence in your mind. It wasn’t home. It was simply a place to rest when you weren’t running around outside, trying to pretend that your mind was right and your life was stable, and the diagnoses the doctors gave you years ago weren’t looming over your head. 

Your stomach growls, and you know you don’t have substantial ingredients in your kitchen to satiate you. You should’ve eaten more on campus earlier today, and you want to kick yourself for your lack of insight. 

You still drag your tired body to the kitchen to find what you can, ripping open the old fridge. What stares back at you is empty shelves and a half drunk water bottle along with some celery.

You settle for the celery, grumbling to yourself. 

“Maybe I’ll use the ten thousand for groceries,” you mutter, leaning against the counter. 

“Gave it to you so you could use it, not save it.”

Your heart leaps out of your body, and you drop the celery in your hand as you shriek. You turn quickly, looking over the kitchen peninsula towards your living room— in the darkness of your apartment, lit only by the streetlights pouring from your windows, you see a figure. 

He’s sitting on the couch, draped over the armrest. His head is resting against the wall— his chest falling and rising in uneven motions. He looks to be wearing gear. He looks like a shadow. 

“Bucky?” you breathe, your heart still stuttering in your chest wildly. “What the fuck?”

“Hey,” he greets with a grunt, but he doesn’t move from his place on the couch. “Sorry. Needed a place to just.. Lay low.”

“Okay,” you said slowly, moving slowly. 

You go to the windows, closing the blinds and drawing the curtains shut before turning on the lamp. Lay low— you assume no one knows he’s here. You want to interrogate him on why and how he’s in your apartment, but with proper light illuminating him, you find the question long gone and missing from your lips.

He’s injured. Badly.

His vest is ripped at his side, and he’s pressing his flesh hand to it, though you can still see his skin stained with his own blood. His forehead also seems to be gashed, and there’s a deep bruise blossoming on his cheekbone, and his lip is split. You’re not sure of what other injuries he could be hiding under the layers of gear he’s wearing, too. 

“What…” you whispered.

“The drawings are nice,” he said, clearing his throat. You follow his eyes to your coffee table, where your sketches of the soldier man from your dream are haphazardly strewn about. You were going to scan them and post them in the morning. “You’re talented.”

“Wait— no,” you denied. You’re not letting him breeze past the clear issue at hand here. “I need— Fucking. Washcloth?” 

Your mind is short circuiting as you quickly rush through your apartment, turning lights on as you go. You bring your CVS bought first aid kit along with a small bowl filled with water and several other washcloths to the living room, pushing your sketches and other art supplies to the floor to make space. 

You’re on your knees in front of him, gently peeling his hand away from his side to inspect the gash on his side. You’re glad you’re not squeamish from the years you’ve spent in the city, but the wound is deep and angry and red— and you are not qualified for such an injury.

“I am not medically trained. At all,” you tell him, panic flashing through your face. Then you demand, “Why did you come here?”

“You’re safe.”

Your breath stops, just for a moment. Bucky isn’t saying that your apartment is safe. That this area in New York is safe— you are someone safe. In just two words, he’s telling you everything. 

You clench your jaw and dip your washcloth into the bowl of water and bring it to the gash on his side. Your eyes flicker to his face. He never flinches. His muscles don’t ripple in pain. His body doesn’t betray him in a way that yours does when you poke at a bruise that you know you shouldn’t be touching. 

It breaks your heart and soul all the same. 

It’s quiet between you two as you go through three more washcloths to remove the dried blood from his body. Then you open up the first aid kit. You’ve never had to use it before other than for some bandaids. 

You don’t even realize your hands are trembling until his metal hand rests on yours. You lift your head to lock eyes with his. His face is gentle, despite the amount of pain that you’re sure is racing through his body at this moment.

“There should be a pair of gloves,” he said, his voice even. You blink for a moment before realizing that he’s directing you on what needs to be done. You quickly move. 

You slide the gloves, eyes darting all over the first aid kit you bought. You were paranoid when you bought it– this expensive thing. You weren’t even sure why you got it, when all you used it for was a few bandaids here and there every once in a while. You praised your past self for this very moment now.

“Saline, antiseptic, and ointment,” he continued, and you pull out each corresponding item from the kit. “Help me clean the wound. Use the gauze. After that, try to find something called a butterfly bandage, if you know what that is.”

You don’t fucking know what that is, but you’re not going to voice that out to him right now. 

Instead, you force your muscles to move past the fear in your body. Bucky is still directing you through the entire thing like you are the one that’s injured here– like you’re the one that’s a few seconds from passing out from pain. You want to scream at your own uselessness, but you know that it isn’t true. Bucky wouldn’t have come here if he thought you were useless.

As the bandage goes on, and you tighten his wound shut, he finally lets out a breath and relaxes against your couch cushions.

“Is that it?” you whispered, eyes flitting across his face.

“That’s the worst of it, yes,” he nodded, closing his eyes.

“There’s more?” you demanded, horrified. 

Bucky lets out a chuckle, as if this situation is funny to him. Maybe it is. To him, probably it is. This is just another regular Thursday to him. For you– this is the first time that you’re ever coming close to a situation like this. 

“I heal faster than the average human. I’ll be okay. This one is just pretty bad, I promise.”

You don’t believe him, not fully. You clench your jaw as you clean up the bloodied gauze and washcloths– tossing them into your garbage bin before going into your freezer to grab a few ice cubes to throw into a ziplock bag for the bruise on his face. He takes it without complaint.

Questions are spinning through your head, nagging at you deeply. The words are threatening to spill out of your mouth, and you’re not sure that you can stop it. 

“Is… Is Steve okay? Peter?” you asked. 

Bucky’s eyes flicker to you, eyebrows furrowing at you briefly. “I understand you asking about Steve. But Peter?”

“Spider-Man,” you whispered in correction, swallowing thickly. Recognition dawns on his face as you reveal that you know. Bucky lets out a small breath, a silence settling over the two of you. He doesn’t press for any other details.

“Mine was a solo mission. Everyone’s out doing their own thing right now. Most of them are in teams. Haven’t heard any of the others being injured or hurt.”

Relief fills your body. Your shoulders sag briefly as you move to sit on the opposite end of the couch from him.

“New York is pretty far from Malaysia, Buck… How the hell did you drag your battered body all the way to my apartment?” The question came from your lips before you could think that he may not even be able to answer you. 

“Tracked down the target from Malaysia to the outskirts of New York,” he answered without hesitation. “Didn’t wanna head back into the base looking like this.”

“So you thought that waiting in my apartment like this for me to come home was any better?” you asked, eyes wide.

“Well, I had a feeling that you would just take care of me rather than demand to know the details of the mission first,” he replied, shaking his head. There was the faintest of smiles on his face that you could see in the dim lighting of your apartment.

“Is it okay for me… to know all of this?” you asked wearily.

“You won’t become a target, if that’s what you’re worried about,” he quickly answered you, his voice serious. 

You shook your head immediately. “No– no. That’s not what I meant. Won’t you get in trouble? With… whoever your bosses are?”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em,” Bucky said with a shrug. Then, he looked at you, eyes catching yours. You couldn’t look away, caught in the stormy blue of his face. “You’re not scared?”

“I don’t think you would do anything that could ever get me hurt,” you murmured honestly. You pause. “You’re not afraid that I won’t leak your location to the world?”

The smile came back on his face. “Like I said, doll– you’re safe. I don’t worry about much when you’re around.”

You don’t know how long you spend staring at him, your heart thumping erratically in your chest again. It’s not from the fear of being shocked by a man in your apartment, or the panic that the man is Bucky injured in your apartment. It’s that stupid nickname that your soldier calls you, it’s the way the word falls from Bucky’s lips so casually and easily. It’s as if this was right, for him to always call you this. 

Your apartment suddenly feels whole. Warm. The space that felt empty a few moments ago is taken over with enough joy that you’re certain that you could spend the rest of your days here as long as Bucky continues to look at you the way that he’s looking at you right now.

With trust. You don’t even know why he trusts you. Why he’s so unwavering in his faith in you.

It’s terrifying all the same. You don't think you deserve it.

“There’s this Chinese place that’s 24/7,” you whispered, breaking the silence. “Do you want take out?”

Bucky’s smile grows a bit wider and he nods at you. “That sounds great.”

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[bonesnglittr]

First mass shooting of august 2025

On the 1st of august 2025 at around 10.30 am a shooting accrued at a local bar in Anaconda, Montana. 4 of the staff members were shot, all passing away. The motive of the attack is unknown.

The suspect, 45-year-old Michael Paul Brown is currently on the run.

Brown served in the U.S. Army as an armor crewman from 2001 to 2005 and deployed to Iraq from early 2004 until March 2005, according to Lt. Col. Ruth Castro, an Army spokesperson. Brown was in the Montana National Guard from 2006 to March 2009, Castro said. He left military service in the rank of sergeant.

He was familiar with the bar and staff, living next door to it and visiting frequently.

As reports of the shooting spread through town, business owners locked their doors and sheltered inside with customers. At Caterpillars to Butterflies Childcare, a nursery a few blocks from the shooting scene, owner Sage Huot said she'd kept the children inside all day after someone called to let her know about the violence.

"We're constantly doing practice drills, fire drills and active shooter drills, so we locked down the facility, locked the doors, and we have a quiet spot where we play activities away from all of our windows and doors," Huot said.

The bartender and three patrons were killed, said Gwerder, who was not there at the time. He believed the four victims were the only ones present during the shooting, and was not aware of any prior conflicts between them and Brown.

"He knew everybody that was in that bar. I guarantee you that," Gwerder said. "He didn't have any running dispute with any of them. I just think he snapped."

source: ABC7 San Francisco

[firelilyfox]

🦾BUCKY BARNES MASTERLIST

Welcome to my Bucky corner :) Here you find all of my fan fictions about our favorite blue-eyed Sergeant. The list will get updated every time I post something new. All interactions are highly appreciated!

SMUT ❤️‍🔥 / FLUFF 💌 / ANGST ⚡️

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In your skin ⚡️💌

After a mission the two of you have to share a room & at first Bucky gets really mad about it but ... he means well.

Cooldown 💌 :

You are having a migraine and Bucky is happy his bionic arm can do something good.

Raw and Deep ❤️‍🔥 :

Bucky comes home from a mission and missed you a lot..

Clueless at 3 a.m. 💌 :

The Internet has been a weird place for Bucky and his friends having a blast making fun of him.

One phone-call away (technically) 💌 :

Bucky gets a call from his scared girlfriend

I will always rescue you ⚡️💌 :

While being in a fight, Bucky looses sight of his girl. When he finds her being hurt he won't hold back to save her.

Summer Love 💌 :

You and Bucky got invited to stay for a weekend with Sam and his family. When the two of you get some alone time on the boat, the summer heat brings out some confessions and butterflies.

This doesn’t define you ⚡️:

The cryo sleep left Buckys body damaged and sometimes he feels like freezing all of the sudden. When his girlfriend find him in the shower, trying to warm up again, he can't keep this a secret anymore.

Equally stubborn ⚡️💌 :

You and Bucky had a fight. And after a successful mission you two get some time to work this shit out.

Cut the past away⚡️:

This takes place after Endgame and before FATWS. Bucky struggles with self worth and with memories that haunting his thoughts. When he almost kills someone because the girl he loves gets hurt, he knows something has to change.

Flirty Soldier 💌 :

You are a dancer at the Captain America Tour. Bucky admires you from afar until one night the finally invites you to a date.

Being close to you⚡️💌 :

Bucky gets back from his first mission after he joined the Avengers. He struggles to let go of his past and he struggles to be touched. But the only thing he really wants, is to be close to you.

Your laughter is my favorite sound 💌 :

Bucky got accepted into the army. Now he has to train to become a soldier. When the daughter of his General stumbles into the camp, he can't really think about something else.

Come home to me 💌 :

You fell asleep on the couch and Bucky comes home to shower you with his love.

Not your personal assistant 💌 :

Having a secret relationship with Bucky, but not all secrets meant to last.

Happy To Help 💌

You join the Avengers and have been invited to live with them. Your neighbor Bucky makes it easy to get used to the new home ... and makes your heart beat a little faster than it should.

Forgiveness Denied ⚡️

Right after the funeral, Bucky disappears without a word. You set everything to find him, clueless why he left.

a promise from the past ⚡️

He saw you sacrificing yourself to safe his life. Now Bucky has to live with the guilt of loosing you - the love of his life. He is convinced that without you, life is not worth living anymore.

falling for you was the easy part ⚡️

Bucky has to watch you get tortured. He blames himself for the pain you’ve been through, but you won’t let him punish himself for it.

dog tags 💌

Bucky comes back from a long day at work and find you welcoming him home. He can't believe how lucky he is to have you.

are you flirting or starting a fight? 💌

You and Bucky are always arguing about the smallest things. But everyone knows that fighting is just another word for foreplay.

don’t ever hide your pain from me ⚡️

You got injured during a unauthorised solo mission. Bucky senses that something is wrong even if you try to hide it from him.

lessons in dodging 💌⚡️

Bucky gets very protective when he sees you with a bruise. Even if he isn’t your boyfriend… yet.

damsel in not so much distress ❤️‍🔥💌

You call him for help but Bucky won’t leave again without a reward.

give me a sign 💌

You went through something traumatic and won’t speak to anyone. But Bucky has an idea how to comfort you without words.

awfully sweet 💌

Alpine is sick and Bucky has no idea what’s wrong with her. So he desperately needs your help.

language of a heart 💌

After a traumatic experience you stopped talking to everyone. Except Bucky. He gets you in a way like nobody else does.

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