#you are the light of universe

[victormalonso]

tú eres la luz del universo | you are the light of universe | víctor m. alonso

[badolmen]

People against piracy fail to realize that no, I can’t just ‘buy it.’ They stopped making DVDs and Blu-Rays. They’re barely offering digital copies for download. I am not spending money I could use for food or bills to pay for a subscription service just so I can always have access to a beloved piece of media. Especially not when the service will remove media on a whim without concern for how the loss of access to that piece will make its artistic conservation nigh impossible.

For example, I recently learned that Disney+ had an original film called Crater. It’s scifi, family friendly, and seems cool - I would love to buy it as a holiday gift for my little brother! But: it’s exclusive to D+ and THEY REMOVED IT LITERALLY MONTHS AFTER ITS RELEASE.

The ONLY way I can directly access this film is through piracy. The ONLY available ‘copies’ of this film are hosted on piracy websites. Disney will NEVER release it in theaters, or as something to buy, and it may NEVER return to the streaming service. It will be LOST because we aren’t allowed to purchase it for personal viewing. If I can’t pay to own it, I won’t pay for the privilege of losing it when corporate decides to put it in a vault.

So yes, I’m going to pirate and support piracy.

Edit: if you are able, use $5 you would otherwise use for a streaming subscription to donate to a GazaFunds campaign.

[coddda]

I wish we could have met in some other way.

Lawlight Week Day 2: Soulmates

If you saw me repost and re-edit this several times uh No you didn't </3

Still frames/Individual gifs:

If you know what every frame is from you get a free cookie. by the way

[aquaticmercy]

Breaking Point

Summary : You and Bucky had always hated each other. When Bucky gets injured during a mission, you start wondering if the hatred was just masking something else.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x avenger!reader (she/her) 

Warnings/tags : Enemies to Lovers and Confessions! Fluff. Hurt/comfort. Past trauma. Cursing. Violence. Injury. A bit of Jealous!Bucky.

Requested by : @beansprout713

Word count : 4.8k

Note : Enemies to Lovers will always be so good to write about. Thank you for requesting this! Enjoy!

Requests are open!

You adjusted your coat, clutching your purse as you strolled back toward the Avengers compound after your date. Your head hung low from the frankly underwhelming night you shared with Ryan, a guy you’d met through a mutual friend. 

Ryan was a librarian. He was perfectly fine, perfectly handsome, perfectly polite. But you weren’t looking for perfect. You sighed. 

He talked about his job, about how a group of school kids making noise had been annoying him. When he asked about yours, you shifted in your seat with unease. You can’t really tell the whole truth. What would that even sound like?

Oh, I went on a mission last week and shot a guy. Don't worry, he was a bad guy.

You would’ve sounded ridiculous.

In the end, Ryan was just another normal person. He couldn’t keep up with you, with your life, being an avenger. With this line of work, you wondered if you’d ever find love. 

You were halfway up the steps to the entrance when you saw him.

Bucky Barnes stood by the doors, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His blue eyes locked on you as soon as you came into his view. The outdoor light cast long shadows across his face, strengthening the sharpness of his features.

Bucky watched you walked up the steps. He clenched his jaw, forcing down the aching swirl inside him. It was easier to push you away, to let the sharp edges of his words do the damage before you could get any closer, even if he could not deny how beautiful you were underneath the dark glow of the night sky. His gut twisted, knowing you put in all this effort for some half-decent guy who could never give you enough, not that you needed to put any effort at all. He shook his thoughts away, eyes narrowing. 

Great, you thought. The last thing you needed tonight was to deal with his brooding attitude. You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for whatever sharp remark he was about to throw your way.

Bucky stepped closer, his chest only inches from yours now, and the proximity sent a jolt of heat through you. His gaze flickered down to your lips for the briefest second before he met your eyes again.

"Out late, aren’t we?" His voice was low.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him as you opened the door to the compound. "It's called having a life, Barnes. You should try it sometime."

He followed you inside, his boots heavy against the floor. "A life, huh?" He scoffed, his tone harsher than usual. “That’s what you call having dinner with some guy who won’t last longer than a week?" His voice was low, almost a growl, but there was something else behind it—something you couldn't quite identify. His eyes didn’t leave yours, and the air between you crackled with a tension you had always felt with him. 

You swallowed hard. "Why do you care who I spend my nights with?" you replied, your voice shakier than you intended. 

His jaw clenched. "Maybe I care because none of those guys know what you really need." His voice was gravelly, and the implication in his words made your stomach flip. For a second, you couldn’t breathe.

You quickly brushed his words. "And you think you do?" you shot back, but your voice faltered. 

Bucky left the question open, not knowing how to respond. Instead, he did what he always does best. He deflected. "You can’t keep a boyfriend because you’re too brash. Too loud."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You swallowed hard, the pain twisting in your chest as his words echoed in your mind. He always had a way of cutting deep, but this was different. Calling out your coping mechanisms seemed too low, even for Bucky.

"Wow." Your voice wavered slightly, but you quickly steadied it, refusing to let him see just how much he affected you. "You really know how to hit where it hurts, don’t you?"

Bucky didn’t respond. For a second, you thought you saw something flicker in his eyes—regret, maybe. But he didn’t apologise. Instead, he turned away, his metal arm flexing at his side.

"Just go to bed," he muttered, almost condescending except for the hint of softness in his voice. "I need you well rested for the mission tomorrow."

As much as you and Bucky outwardly despised each other, the two of you were surprisingly effective partners in the field. Again and again, you found yourselves paired together. You never complained, though. There was an undeniable intimacy in your partnership that you craved, even if Bucky hated your guts.

"Is this really about the mission?” Your anger bubbled to the surface. 

His hand shot out suddenly, gripping your wrist—not hard, but firm enough to stop you from moving too far past him. His metal fingers were cool against your skin, his blue eyes alight with frustration. "It’s about you not taking things seriously.” He said, almost sneering. “Instead of preparing your gear, you're off with some random guy. Do you even care?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Not in front of him. 

"I care more than you think, Bucky," you said quietly, pulling your arm away from his grip.  "But you don’t get to talk to me like that. You don’t know why I am the way I am."

Bucky’s expression softened slightly. He opened his mouth to say something, but then quickly snapped it shut, as if he didn’t trust himself to speak. The truth was, he’d been watching you for months. Not just on missions, but in moments like these, when you thought you were alone. You wore your confidence like armour, but sometimes, when you let it slip, he caught glimpses of something deeper. Something that made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way he did, whatever that feeling was. Whatever the racing heart in his chest meant. Whatever the butterflies in his stomach meant. 

But he couldn’t let himself go there. 

The silence between you was unbearable, and finally, you turned away.

"Let’s just get through tomorrow without killing each other, okay?" you muttered. Without waiting for his response, you walked away, leaving him standing alone..

Why did he always do this? 

He didn’t know half of what you carried. Didn’t know what it was like to lose—to build your walls higher every time someone left, because that was the only way to survive.

Or maybe he knew too much of what it was like.

You spent your life keeping people at arm's length. Dates were fine. Fun. Superficial. They didn't ask for more than you were willing to give. You could smile, laugh, let your guard down just enough to feel normal, but never enough to let anyone in. 

Bucky—he was too close. He saw too much. He could cut through the walls with one sentence, and it scared you.

As you made your way back to your bedroom, part of you wondered—what would happen if you let him in?

What a stupid thought. 

—

The next morning, the air between you and Bucky was still cold, your argument from the night before hanging in the air like a hurricane. You were briefed on the mission, but you barely paid attention. Your mind was still reeling from the sting of Bucky’s words. And you hated that he had the power to make you feel this way.

In the quinjet, silence filled the space between you, making the air feel too thick and heavy to breathe. Bucky sat across from you, his gaze fixed on the floor, his hands resting on his knees. You stole a glance at him, noting the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched tight, and for a second, something flickered in his eyes as he glanced at you. Regret, maybe?

“Look," you muttered, breaking the silence. "About last night—"

“Don’t," he cut in, his voice low but firm. "Let’s focus on the mission."

You swallowed, biting back whatever words had been forming. He didn’t want to talk about it. Fine.

The knot in your chest tightened. You wanted to tell him—wanted to say something to bridge the gap between you, but the walls were still there, and neither of you was ready to break them down.

—

The mission was supposed to be simple. You and Bucky had done this a hundred times—get in, gather intel, get out. He was the shadow, slipping in unnoticed, while you were the distraction, loud and violent, drawing the guards’ fire away. 

You took point, leading the guards away with your usual brashness. Something that Bucky criticized you for.

You could feel Bucky’s eyes on you, tracking your every movement. Most of the time, his gaze felt like scrutiny, like he was waiting for you to mess up. But today there was something else. Protectiveness, perhaps?

As you manoeuvred through the base, you split up. You were supposed to patrol the halls, distract any guards, draw fire from Bucky to you. Bucky was supposed to secure the intel. You stopped in the centre, where you were supposed to wait for communications right about now. 

Where is he? you thought, scanning for Bucky, but he was nowhere to be seen. He was supposed to signal once he’d reached the server room. But the silence on the comms was making you nervous.

Your instincts kicked in, as you heard more guards coming from your left. 

You cursed, ready for confrontation.

You felt exposed, vulnerable. Normally, you could feel his presence. But now, something was different. The usual synchrony between you two felt… off.

Suddenly, the footsteps halted as gunfire erupted in the distance, shattering the uneasy quiet. Your heart raced. That wasn’t part of the plan. Bucky wasn’t supposed to engage until he had the data. The sound of gunshots rang in your ears, echoing in the corridors of the enemy base.

“Barnes, what the hell’s going on?” you hissed into the comms, trying to keep your voice steady. No response.

Your breath hitched. Something was wrong. Your steps quickened, your pulse pounding in your ears. The sound of shouting and footsteps grew closer. Where the hell is he?

You ran towards where Bucky was supposed to be. Rounding a corner, suddenly a gunshot rang out—close. Too close.

A sharp pain seared across your side as you dove for cover behind a stack of crates. You cursed under your breath, pressing your hand to the wound. Blood oozed through your fingers. The bullet had grazed you, which was survivable, but the sting was enough to remind you just how dangerous this was becoming. 

You shot your attacker with your last bullet, bullseye on the center of their forehead. The body went stiff, still on the ground. Brutal. Clean. Necessary.

“Where are you, Barnes?” you muttered, your breath coming in ragged bursts, but you were only met with static from the other line. You were supposed to be the distraction, but without his backup, you felt vulnerable in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

Damn it, this isn’t working. You threw away the comms and crushed it beneath your heel.

You heard the commotion getting closer and closer, and then suddenly the gunfire stopped. Maybe Bucky had been able to disarm the enemy and was making a run for it. 

You glanced over the edge of a crate. Your eyes widened, spotting the sniper hidden on the corner, by an air vent, aiming on your head. Your heart pounded, knowing you don’t have the energy to dodge another shot. 

You took a deep breath, readying for impact.

Then, there was a flash of movement—Bucky!

He appeared out of nowhere, barreling toward you just as the sniper lined up his next shot.

“Move!” he shouted, his voice brimming with panic. 

Before you could react, his body slammed into yours, tackling you to the ground. The breath was knocked from your lungs as you hit the ground hard, his weight pinning you down. 

Bucky’s chest pressed against your back, his breath heavy in your ear as he shielded you from the line of fire. His metal arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and despite the chaos, you couldn’t ignore the heat of his body, the way it made your skin tingle. But the relief was short-lived.

The next sound you heard was a grunt of pain.

You twisted beneath him just in time to see Bucky stumble, his hand clutching his side. Blood. Too much blood. It soaked through his tactical suit, spreading rapidly as he slumped back, his face pale with pain.

“No!” The word tore from your throat as you scrambled to your feet, gently laying him on the ground before he could fall. You grabbed his arm, trying to keep him upright, but he was heavy, his body sagging against yours.

“I’m fine,” he grunted, his voice strained, but the way he leaned on you told a different story.

You felt the adrenaline surge through your body, giving you the last boost of energy you needed. You grabbed Bucky’s rifle, blindly shooting at the direction of the sniper. 

You weren’t shooting clean shots anymore. You didn’t care. You didn’t stop until you saw the body fall on the floor. 

You scrambled back to Bucky. 

“This wasn’t part of the plan,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and fear as you pressed your hand to the wound in his side, trying to stop the bleeding. “Why didn’t you stay in position? You weren’t supposed to—”

“To what?” he rasped, wincing as he tried to move. “Let you die?”

“I had it under control!” you shot back, hough you knew it was a lie. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, but the closeness only fueled your anger. “If you had just stayed where you were—”

“You were in the open. I had to—” Bucky interrupted, his voice sharper than before, his eyes dark with frustration. His hands tapped his pocket, making sure he had the intel you came here for.

“I was doing my job, Bucky!” you shouted, your grip tightening on his arm. The fear bubbling up in your chest was quickly being overtaken by anger, the unresolved tension from last night’s fight bleeding into the moment. “But you—damn it, why do you always have to make everything harder than it is?!”

His eyes met yours, blazing with frustration. “I’m the one keeping you alive!” he growled, stepping closer despite the pain radiating from his wound. “You never listen—”

“You don’t trust me!” you accused him, your voice shaking when you noticed the bleeding wasn’t slowing. Did it hit an artery? “and now you’re hurt because you had to play the hero!”

His jaw clenched, his hand gripping your arm tightly as he struggled to stay upright. “I don’t—” He stopped, his voice catching as the weight of your words sank in. His eyes flickered with something that made your heart twist. “I don’t want to lose you.”

The confession was so quiet, so raw, that it hit you harder than any bullet could have. 

Your anger faltered, the heat of the moment cooling as you stared at him, your breath catching in your throat. “Bucky…” you started, but the words died on your lips.

Soon, you heard hostile footsteps growing louder in the distance. You didn’t have time for this. Not now.

You tore your gaze from his, focusing on the immediate task at hand—getting him out of here. 

You supported Bucky as best you could, half-dragging him through the enemy base toward the extraction point. His body was heavy against yours, his breaths shallow, but he still had enough strength to keep his arm around you, guiding you through the chaos.

“Stay with me, Barnes,” you muttered, your voice tight with worry as you half-ran, half-stumbled through the corridors.

Bucky groaned in response, his grip on you tightening, his weight sagging against your side. “Are you even… strong enough to carry me?” he gritted out, his voice laced with pain. There was a flicker of his usual sarcasm there, a sign he was still fighting.

You shot him a glare, even as panic clawed at your chest. There was a hint of charm in his voice this time, and you couldn’t help but smile a little. “Don’t make me regret saving your ass.”

His weight pressed heavily on your shoulders, and his blood soaked into your gear, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t stop. Every time his breathing hitched, you pushed yourself harder, refusing to let the fear of losing him take over.

—

By the time you got him back to the quinjet, Bucky was barely conscious. You worked frantically to stabilise him, your hands shaking as you hooked him up to an IV and bandaged the wound as best as you could with the limited supplies on hand.

When you finally returned to the Avengers compound, they wheeled him away to the med bay, and despite the doctors’ reassurances that he’d pull through, you refused to leave his side. 

For the rest of the night, you stayed by his bedside. 

Sam dropped by a couple of times, bringing you water and food you couldn’t bring yourself to touch. On his third visit, he lingered, watching you with a knowing expression. Bucky was still unconscious, the steady rhythm of the EKG was the only sound in the room as you stared at him. Your hands clutched the arms of your chair as if holding onto something solid would stop your thoughts from spiraling.

“You’ve been here a while,” Sam said softly, not wanting to disturb the stillness in the room. “You should eat something.”

He pointed at the bottle and sandwich he had brought a couple of hours ago. You nodded faintly, but your eyes didn’t leave Bucky. “I’m not hungry.”

Sam sat in the chair next to you, his gaze flicking between you and Bucky. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"So..." he started, drawing out the word like he was testing the waters, "you finally decide to stop dancing around each other or what?"

You shot him a glare, but it lacked the amusement you usually reserved for his teasing. "Sam, not now."

"Hey, I'm just saying," Sam replied, holding his hands up in defence. "It's been months of this weird tension, and now you're sitting here like you're at the end of some romantic drama. It's about time you said something."

“Can we not do this now?" You repeated, snapping this time, though you did not mean to. 

“He’s gonna be fine,” Sam reassured you quietly, now aware of your agitation, “You don’t need to sit here all night worrying.”

“I’m not…” you trailed off, realising how defensive you were being. With a sigh, you slumped back on your chair. “I… I should’ve seen the sniper sooner.”

Sam chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You know Bucky. He wasn’t about to let you take that hit, no matter what.”

You glanced at Bucky, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. You lowered your voice, scared that he would somehow hear you. “I don’t understand why he’s always like this. One minute he’s insulting me, and the next, he’s throwing himself in front of bullets for me.”

Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair. “You matter more to him than you think.”

You scoffed quietly, not quite believing him. “He sure has a funny way of showing it.”

“Listen,” Sam said, his tone soft but firm. “Bucky… he’s complicated. He doesn’t exactly wear his heart on his sleeve. But the fact that you’re sitting here, all torn up over him? Makes me think his feelings aren’t one-sided.”

You looked over at Sam with visceral scepticism in your eyes. 

Sam leaned forward again, his expression serious now. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one’s watching. Hell, he gets jealous of the guys you go out with.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of Sam’s words sink in. The argument with Bucky from the previous night echoed in your mind—his harsh words, the way he’d cut into you so deeply, as if trying to push you away. Was that really how his jealousy manifested? 

Then there was today, how he’d risked his life without hesitation to save you.

“He nearly died today,” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat. “Because of me.”

“He didn’t do it because he had to.” Sam shook his head. “He did it because it was you.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of Sam’s words settling in your chest. You had always felt the tension between you and Bucky, the unspoken something that simmered beneath the surface, but you had never let yourself fully confront it. Maybe because it was too scary to admit. Maybe because you feared that caring about someone like Bucky Barnes carried more risk than you were willing to take.

You blinked back the tears that pricked at the corners of your eyes. “I don’t know what to do...” with all this information you had just dumped on me. 

Sam smiled faintly, standing up and resting a hand on your shoulder. “Just be here when he wakes up.”

You watched as Sam walked out, leaving you alone with Bucky again. You let your eyes fall back to his sleeping form, his face still pale but peaceful. You reached out, hesitating for just a moment, before gently brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead.

—

Hours had passed before Bucky finally stirred. The room was heavy with the weight of everything that had happened, thick with the scent of blood and sweat. You sat beside him, your body drained, shoulders hunched over. Your mind stayed alert—unable to tear your focus from him for even a second. 

“Bucky?” Your voice was hoarse, cracking under the pressure of everything you had witnessed, everything you had felt. 

His eyelids fluttered as if fighting to lift a weight the weight of the world. For a long, quiet moment, he just stared at you, eyes cloudy and disoriented. “You’re still here,” he mumbled, his voice fragile.

“Of course, I’m still here,” you shot back, the sharpness in your tone betraying the tenderness that hid behind it. Your emotions simmered beneath the surface, threatening to overflow. His muscles tensed as he attempted to sit up, but a grimace of pain shot across his face, stopping him short. “You should’ve let me handle it,” he muttered through clenched teeth, frustration leaking into his voice. Not because he had been shot, but because it broke his heart seeing you here. You looked so weak and sleep deprived. You looked so tired, your wounds untended.

The anger that had been quietly burning inside you flared. You rose to your feet, the chair scraping the floor in the silence. Your conversation with Sam swam in the back of your mind, but old habits die hard. “Handle what, Bucky? Getting shot?” 

His gaze snapped to yours, the weariness in his eyes replaced with a flash of cold steel. “Why does it matter to you if I live or die?” His voice cut through the room, louder now, tinged with a bitterness. 

The question hit you like a blow, freezing you in place. Your heart pounded violently against your ribs, the truth clawing at your throat. Every wall you’d carefully constructed around yourself, every defence you had in place, crumbled in an instant. Before you could stop yourself, the words you had fought so hard to keep buried tore free.

“Because I fucking care about you!” you shouted, your voice breaking. “I care about you so much that I have to pretend I don’t just to keep myself sane! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

The air between you felt electric. Bucky’s eyes widened, the force of your confession hanging in the space between you, churning like a wave ready to break. He didn’t move, didn’t speak at first, just stared at you as if seeing something he couldn’t comprehend.

Then, after a beat that seemed to stretch into eternity, his voice came, a low, gravelly whisper that was almost lost in the silence. “You think I don’t feel the same?” His words trembled with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before.

Your breath caught, and your body stilled. Maybe Sam was right, the realisation dawned on you.

His voice was cracking under the strain of emotions he’d long suppressed, grunting as he sat up. “I push you away because it’s easier than admitting how much I—” His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists as he struggled to say what he’d buried for so long. “If I let myself feel it... if I let myself get close to you... I’ll lose you. And I can’t—” His voice faltered, breaking. “I can’t lose you.”

Your heart wrenched at his words, at the fear so raw in his voice. Slowly, you took a step toward him, your legs trembling beneath you. The distance between the two of you had never felt so vast, even though it was only a few feet. “Bucky…” The anger, the frustration—it had drained away. Your voice was softer now than it has ever been with him, gentle. You sat on the edge of the bed, facing him.

He looked up at you, and in his eyes, you saw everything you had ever felt mirrored back at you—the fear, the longing, the unspoken love that had always been there but never acknowledged. 

Your breath hitched in your throat as you finally let the walls fall completely. 

“It’s easier than admitting how much I—” Bucky tried again, but couldn’t finish. The words weren’t enough. 

You closed the distance between you in a heartbeat, your hands reaching for him, pulling him into you, and your lips crashed against his with a force that felt like it could shatter the walls around you. 

The kiss was desperate, letting go of everything you had kept at bay for so long. It was raw, unfiltered. It was an outpouring of all the feelings you had tried so hard to ignore. There was nothing but you and him, the world outside of this fading away into nothingness.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathless, chests rising and falling in sync, your foreheads pressed together as if you were trying to ground yourselves. The gravity of what had been revealed was too much for you to process.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was thick, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

"What is this?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. “What are we?”

Bucky's breath was shaky, his forehead still resting against yours as he struggled to find the right words. His hands hovered at your waist, as if he wasn’t sure whether to hold you tighter or let you go. The vulnerability in his eyes, raw and unguarded, mirrored yours.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, his voice rough and hoarse, barely audible. “But I can’t keep pretending like this doesn’t mean something.” His eyes flicked up to meet yours, searching your face as if trying to decipher your feelings, afraid of what he might find there. “You… you matter to me. More than anything or anyone.”

The honesty in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing in your ribcage. You didn’t know how to respond—your thoughts in a tangled mess. 

“Bucky…” You started, unsure of where to begin, but the words just didn’t come. You reached up, cupping his face gently with your hand, brushing your thumb across the stubble on his cheek. His eyes fluttered closed at your touch, a shaky exhale escaping his lips.

“I don’t want to mess this up,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if admitting it out loud made it more real. “I’ve lost so much. I’m scared—” He broke off.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you whispered, the words firm, even though fear still lingered in the back of your mind. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as the weight of your words settled. Bucky stared at you, pressing his forehead against yours once more, the tension in his body easing ever so slightly.

“Together,” he repeated softly.

The room was quiet again, the steady beep of the heart monitor the only sound that broke the silence. You sat there, holding each other in the stillness.

And maybe, someday soon, you’d have the courage to say what you both had wanted to say:

I love you.

-end

[imreallyonthishellsite]

this not who is the best lawyer, just a who do you want in court with you and just know you'll still probably go to jail despite your efforts, have fun☺️

[that-g3-artist]

happy mermay! have some fish boys

(Buy me a coffee? Requests are open!)

[canisalbus]

Real fan art is coming one day, but for now I really wanted to see if it was feasible to simplify their gradients into something that would fit a simple style like Bluey’s 😅

.

[urdepressedslut]

You’re Mine, Sunshine

♡ Pairing: Grumpy!Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Fem!Reader

♡ Summary: Bucky gets picked by a very rich and respected man to be his daughter’s personal bodyguard. The Father warns him that it won’t be an easy job, that she is a brat and difficult to deal with. But what happens when Bucky meets you and you’re the complete opposite?

♡ Warnings: mentions of amputation, light angst, hints to violence, mentions of death, bucky being a grumpy man

Part 2

Trope ⇢ Grumpy x Sunshine | Mob!AU Bodyguard!AU

“Mr. Barnes, your résumé so far is quite impressive.” Pierce acknowledged with a slow nod.

Bucky of course had a trained eye, but the glares that were not so subtly sent his way by the big boss— were intimidating. He wasn’t scared, no. He simply respected this man’s power. Bucky knew better than to get on the bad side of someone like Pierce.

“Says here you’re an amputee?” Pierce asked so bluntly, and he noticed Bucky’s eyes squint slightly. “Sorry, if I’m overstepping but nothing will be overlooked.”

“It’s not a problem, sir.” Bucky assured him. “Yes, I lost my left arm during a mission way back.”

Pierce furrowed his brows.

“Mission? I take it you used to be an agent of some sort.” He assumed.

Bucky nodded.

“Hm, very good. Continue.” He waved him on.

“I had some surgical procedures— and now I have a prosthetic.”

Bucky lifted his left arm, rolling his sleeve slightly up to expose the metal to the boss. Pierce hummed impressively, taking in the intricate designs on the metal.

“I can assure you that me having a prosthetic will not be an issue— my arm is made out of only the strongest metal. Bullet proof, in fact.” He added, hoping it would further impress the boss, proving just how perfect for the job he was.

It wasn’t his dream to be a bodyguard, actually it was quite a low in his career— if you asked him. He had fallen out of his previous steady job, due to some complications. He had the experience of being a bodyguard— just not for only one person. It would be a weird change for him, but he was willing to take on the challenge. Also, the pay was nice.

Pierce hummed again, the information that his prosthetic arm was bullet proof— only satisfying him more.

“Like I said, impressive Mr. Barnes. But this is an extremely important task. My only daughter, who must be protected at all costs.” Pierce trailed off, expression growing serious. “It’s been a hard adjustment since the passing of my wife, my daughter is all I have left.”

Bucky nodded in understanding, knowing what it was like to lose loved ones. In fact, that wound was still fresh on him.

“If I allow you to take on this role, you are to swear to yourself that you will do whatever it takes to keep her alive— no matter what.” Pierce spoke loudly, his voice orotund.

Bucky in the back of his mind thought about his choice of words. ‘If I allow you.’ Bucky respected this man, but he had to hold back the scoff that threatened to escape his lips at his statement.

“Do you think you’re ready for that?” Pierce challenged, and suddenly it wasn’t about his daughter at all. It was a man challenging another man, a task that he deemed impossible.

His metal hand behind his back whirred in annoyance. After all that fluffing his head up, complimenting his training. It was clear Pierce thought so little of him, and at that— it made Bucky wanna take the job even more. Just to prove him wrong.

“Yes sir.” Bucky promised, shaking Pierces hand in a firm— slightly aggressive shake.

Pierce smiled, dropping Bucky’s résumé on his desk. Getting himself comfortable, he sat on the edge of the front of the desk, crossing his arms.

“Now, let’s go through what is to be expected.” He started, Bucky nodded for him to continue. “You are to be with her at all times, except for when you sleep. You do sleep right?”

Bucky let the scoff escape this time, but it wasn’t as aggressive as he wanted it to be.

“I’ve got a metal arm, but I’m still human sir.”

Pierce chuckled to himself, and Bucky wanted to roll his eyes. This man thinks he’s so funny.

“Right. You must never let her leave your sight, if she wants to see her friends— you’ll be seeing them with her. Not that it’s going to be an issue, I don’t think she has many friends… or any.” The boss shrugged, seemingly unconcerned about his daughter.

Bucky nodded, taking everything in.

“You are going to be staying with her in the safe house… well— she thinks it’s just a house but the area is guarded with my men.” He shrugged again. “I’m a successful man and with that comes enemies, people who look for my weaknesses. You know that.”

Bucky gave a tight lipped smile, Pierce so far sounding like a father of the year.

“Now, about my daughter. Her name is (Y/n) (Y/L/n), and she is a handful.” Pierce stated frustratedly. “She’s rude, ungrateful, nasty— and just overall extremely difficult.”

Bucky furrowed his brows, rethinking his decision to be a bodyguard for this girl. Fucking lovely.

“You can now understand why I’m paying you the offered amount. It’s only fair to you, Mr. Barnes. Truthfully, I can’t deal with her anymore. I love her, and she’s my daughter but… It just doesn’t work out with me. I’m a busy man— I don’t have time for brats.” Pierce spat, straightening up and heading back around his desk.

Bucky had already been creating this mental image of you, so far you sounded like a witch. He was not at all ready to be dealing with you 24/7.

“Doesn’t sound like a problem boss, I’m happy to be protecting your daughter. Nobody will lay a hair on her head, I swear on my life.” Bucky promised again, bowing his head slightly.

“Oh I know. If anything happens to her and I find out you were slacking even by an inch… well you’re a smart man, I’m sure you can figure it out.” Pierce warned, and Bucky swallowed at the mere intimidation that laced his voice.

But he would not back down to this challenge, which is how he saw this— not a job.

“That will be all Mr. Barnes, (Y/n) is around here somewhere. Find her and take her home.” He told Bucky, putting on his glasses— focusing on his paperwork.

“Yes sir.”

Bucky nodded and turned to exit the room. He was so confused with the interaction. You’d think someone who hires a bodyguard for their daughter would know where their daughter is. The way he spoke about you was off putting. Bucky didn’t even know you, but it felt wrong to hear someone talk so little about you. What did he know anyway— apparently you were a monster.

He made his way through the building with a swift walk, needing to fulfill his duties and find you quickly. He was on the third floor, about to hit the button to the elevator when he saw a young lady. Despite him wanting to find you all on his own, he got her attention.

“Excuse me,” He waved to her with a fake smile, “Do you know where I can find (Y/n) (Y/L/n)?”

The lady smiled and took Bucky by surprise by laughing. His fake smile vanished immediately, his eyes squinting in a annoyed expression.

“That would be me!” You exclaimed with a warm smile.

Bucky’s eyes widened and he thought for a second he was being fucked with, but after you stayed smiling at him, being as patient as ever— he knew you weren’t joking.

“Uh right… Your dad is Pierce?” He asked hesitantly, keeping his guard up. Still thinking someone was messing with him— testing him.

You nodded slowly, giving him a curious expression. Your smile never wavering.

“Yes, and you are?” You asked so politely.

Bucky shouldn’t of been as shocked as he was but truthfully, he was expecting a demon spawn of a person. Red eyes, withered flowers left in your path, a literal storm cloud floating over you— but you looked so normal. So sweet and pretty. Your hair smelled so strongly of strawberry shampoo, he could catch the scent from his spot. Your voice was like honey, the sound soothing.

He was confused as to why your father thought so wrongly of you. He had too many questions.

He cleared his throat, straightening himself now that he believed you were who he was looking for.

“(Y/n), my name is Mr. Barnes— I’ve been hired as your personal bodyguard.” He informed you, watching the corners of your mouth falter slightly.

“Oh, did my Father hire you?” You asked politely.

“Yes ma’am.”

You nodded your head, attempting to keep a smile on your face. But you couldn’t help the distaste for being given a bodyguard. You knew it was only for the sole purpose, that your Father didn’t want to care for you anymore. He wanted nothing to do with you. That fact was enough to make your nose start to burn, but you held yourself together— not wanting to break down in front of this new guy.

Bucky watched you take in the information, the way you took a deep breath, almost controlling yourself before you spoke again.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Barnes. I’m sure we’re going to be great friends.” You told him.

Bucky shook his head, an annoyed expression etching his face.

“Ma’am, I think we should keep things professional. I have been hired as your bodyguard. Let me do my job, and you can continue with your day as usual. You won’t even know I’m here half the time.” He explained rather harshly.

You seemed taken aback, his words hurting you more than they should’ve. You were lonely, and you thought you’d be able to get a friend out of this situation. Even if he was being hired to hang around you. Luck didn’t seem to be on your side as he told you off. The burning felt stronger in your nose, and you took another deep breath.

Bucky only felt bad for a second, but he was quickly snapping back to reality. It was his life on the line to protect you, and if Bucky was anything— it was that he was good at doing his job. This was business, not playtime.

“I’m here to take you home. Are you ready?” He asked you.

You relaxed your quick beating heart, not even having time to speak with your Father. Not that he’d want to anyway. So much had changed since your Mother passed, you had yet to heal those wounds.

You nodded with a weaker smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. If Bucky had noticed your sudden mood change, he didn’t mention it— instead guiding you outside.

He opened the door to the car that was waiting outside for you, climbing in himself after you were settled.

He started driving to your place, with the help of the car telling him directions.

Meanwhile you gazed out the window, watching the buildings pass by. You forced yourself to keep a small smile on your face, hoping you’d convince yourself that the gesture was genuine if you did it long enough.

Bucky glanced back at you through the rear view mirror from time to time, watching you look out the window. He was still trying to come to terms with how polite you were, how completely opposite you were to your Fathers description.

On one hand it was a relief that he didn’t have to deal with the devil. On the other hand… he was anxious to see where this job would lead him.

A/N: I don’t know what is wrong with me, but suddenly I had this urge to write a bodyguard!bucky fic. let’s be honest, we are all slut’s for bodyguard!bucky 😭 I’m also a whore for the trope grumpy x sunshine 🥰🥴 let me know what you think— this is all word vomit.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

Small Cuts

Jason Todd x Reader

wc: 1.7 K summary: Red Hood saves you from the chaos, being scared shitless warnings: standard Gotham violence, description of minor injuries, (panic attack), slight angst/comfort, established relationship a/n: for my loyal Red Hood fans (you know who you are), here's a special drabble I came up with while looking through my notes. have fun (divider)

Jason quickly dodges another punch, putting a bullet between the muggers eyes. Yes, Bruce said no guns and killing, but he isn‘t Bruce. He doesn‘t care, these shits need to go down, they did that themselves by doing wrongs. It seems that Dick managed to escort as many civilians as possible from the mall, getting back to his brother to fight by his side. He knows Bane is a powerful guy, but his small army seems to be quite strong too. It‘s annoying him, he probably has a broken rib by now, and the cuts along his body sting, it getting more difficult to fight against the remaining soldiers.

A scarily familiar, shrill scream sounds amidst the chaos, his breath hitching under his mask. He really hopes it‘s not the person he thinks it is. With a quick punch to the other‘s head, he can search for who screamed, already cursing Dick for not clearing the floor properly. It seems like he is on autopilot, remembering you telling him about going on a quick shop to the mall, see if there is anything new. That same mall he is fighting criminals in right now.

He finally spots you, trapped between the wall and a huge shelf that crashed against it, you being in between it. There is just enough space for you to fit in, but not enough to crawl out of it on your own. Besides, you‘ve never looked so terrified before, not even able to breath properly in your panicked state.

Without sharing another glance, he runs up to you and pushes the shelf away from the wall, grunting at how heavy it is. Now that the huge weight is off, you intake a deep breath, close to hyperventilating again. You can‘t even register who is in front of you or that you are free again.

Jason really wants to just let the medics from outside take care of you, but he can‘t. He carefully scoops you up, holding your head close against him, as he hurries away from the fighting scene, patting your back softly with his other hand. Meanwhile, you can barely register that you aren‘t crushed between the wall anymore, but in someone‘s arms, taking you away.

»S- Lady, you‘re alright! I‘m bringing you to safety, you‘re gonna be okay.«

The slightly distorted voice attempts to calm you down, doing little to actually make you stop from panicking. Jason cursed himself inwardly as he almost slipped, having to keep his secret identity from you while still outside, being close to giving up and patching you up right here; call you his favourite nicknames and petnames. It‘s not like he doesn‘t trust you, no, he would do anything for you because you‘d do anything for him. He still sometimes cries himself to sleep, thinking he doesn‘t deserve you. Now, he is close to crying again, but not because of that. His world is injured, because he wasn‘t careful enough. He should‘ve been the one escorting civilians, maybe he would have spotted you sooner.

With quick strides, Jason finally sets you down onto his couch. These are the rare moments he is glad he lives close to the mall, being still dead-concerned about you.

Your knee is badly scraped, a couple of dark bruises littering on your exposed skin, small cuts across your face.Oh, your pretty face. It‘s all his fault.

As if on instinct, he gets his med kit and kneels down in front of the couch, craddling your face in his hands. Now safe in his apartment, he doesn‘t care about his secret identity being revealed to you, he just wants to make this better.

»Darling, I‘m here, don‘t you worry, okay? It‘s me, Jason. Jay-jay.«

Before you can respond, he takes off his helmet and discards it to the floor, cleaning your small scrapes around his face carefully. His fingers barely touch your skin, the wet rug gently cleaning the little blood off of your forehead and cheeks, his own face looking way worse than yours.

Gasping, you finally take in his face and feel a rush of worry again. Leaning up, you cup his cheek, seeing his black eye and cut across his chin. He looks absolutely done, yet he is still on his knees, cleaning at your own wounds.

He is immediately alerted, searching your face for any sign of pain or discomfort. He doesn‘t seem to realise he is injured as well.

»W-what is it? Did I hurt you?« What is that question? Of course he hurt you, he should‘ve been there way sooner.

Taking a deep breath, you try to use your voice; being still shaken up and weak.

»Your fucking eye...« Jason frowns even more at your weak voice, huffing out and leaning you back down on your back. He bites down on his inner cheek harshly, trying to focus and work on your injuries as best as possible. Your eyes stay on his face, silently observing him as you finally start to breath more normally.

Your light scrapes sting as he cleans them up, putting small bandages over them.

»Don‘t they need you?« You croak out quietly again, whincing lightly as he cleans your scraped knee, the wet cloth becoming bloody.

»They can handle it. I need you to be safe first.« Jason mutters back, feeling guilty and bad for causing you more pain while patching you up. It hurts more but you bear through, leaning up on your elbows to see how bad your knee is. You grimace lightly, hissing at the familiar sting while he cleans your wound.

Jason doesn‘t glance to your face anymore, completely focussed on taking care of you. He carefully wraps a bandage around your knee, lifting it up a little on the couch. His fingertips barely graze your skin, his touch even more gentle than usual. Your body is still trembling from the adrenaline, slumping back on the couch with a heavy sigh. It all comes to your senses.

Jason is Red Hood. He just saved you from that terror attack in the mall. Seems to be in a worse shape than you and still patches you up as gentle as possible. He left his team behind just to take you to safety.

»Take off your shirt, need to see the bruises.«

His voice snaps you out of your slow procession of events, humming lightly in thought before carefully pulling off your shirt. It hurts to move your arms up, feeling a painful stretch around your right side. He helps you take it off, eyes quickly scanning over your big bruise around your ribs. It looks even worse now, a darker bruise evident against your right side. He wants to punch himself, he never meant to hurt you.

It‘s not even his fault. He was just fighting, not having been in charge for escorting civilians. Maybe he shouldn‘t feel guilty, he knows better than blaming himself for something that he didn‘t do. But it‘s just unfair, he could‘ve made it less worse if he only put an eye out and saw you and—

»Jason! Your nose is bleeding.«

You finally managed to pull him out of his thoughts, not knowing what to do. Jason quickly stands up again and gets the bathroom, leaning over the sink to get his nose clean and make it stop bleeding. Rushing over, you limp the way to Jason and get to his side, trying to see in what shape he is right now.

»I‘m fine, why are you standing? Get down- sit down, darling, you don‘t need to do anything.«

»I am not sitting down, you need to sit down, you‘re literally bleeding.« You argue back, trying to lead him to the bedroom.

»I‘m not sitting down, I need to get you safe— «

»I am safe.« You reassure him, seeing his hands tremble, eyes seem unfocused. Nothing really seems to help him calm down, grabbing his shoulders and forcing eye-contact.

After some more attempts of coaxing him into the bedroom, you can finally take care of him. He stands in front of the bed as you sit in front of him, patching up the few gashes along his torso.

Jason watches you the whole time, running his hand through some strands of hair occasionally. Yes, it does hurt as you bandage him up, but all he can focus on is you at the moment. Whole and safe, taking care of him finally.

He doesn‘t deserve you.

But he won‘t ever trade you for anyone else.

You don‘t need to talk once you get him all patched up and clean, both of you acting automatically once everything falls back to normal.

Jason crawls back in bed with you like this morning, carefully wrapping his arms around you, no matter how much it hurts his own body. Both tangled up in each other, comforting the other with sweet and grounding words. You are both safe now.

The small conversation paused, letting a comfortable silence fall over the room. After a few moments you speak up again, atmosphere getting lighter.

»I was dating the Red Hood all the time? For two years?«

He groans lightly, looking down at you in his arms.

»I‘m sorry, I… couldn‘t really tell you. But I wanted to, I really did.«

Jason apologises, his guilty expression pulling at your heart again.

»Wait, no, I‘m not mad. It‘s just… a nice surprise? I don‘t know, but I will buy endless Red Hood merch from now on. If you like it or not.«

You tell him with a small smile, making him pause before rolling his eyes. Of course. There‘s no way you would react badly. Especially after saving you.

a/n: WOW! really hoped you enjoyed it, i'm excited to hear your thoughts about it!!

← MASTERLIST

[ghosthoard]

pwetty? soft? loved?

yes.

The other side of the hug!

[victormalonso]

you are the light of universe | © víctor m. alonso

[you-have-a-metal-arm]

TRUST

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Slight shading of smut, fluff, and spice ✨

Summary: You wanted to play a little instagram trend to Bucky, where you ask to drive his car. And his answer leaves you speechless.

Authors Note: Please do not copy or translate my work. English is not my first language, so please understand grammar or spelling mistakes.

This was in my notes app for a long time, hope you enjoy.

Bucky had been waiting for this night longer than he cared to admit. After weeks away on a mission, all he could think about was you-your laugh, the way you looked at him like he was your whole world, and the way you fit perfectly into his arms. When he finally pulled up to your place in his brand-new Porsche Carrera 119, everything felt right again.

The sleek black car gleamed under the streetlights, purring softly as Bucky brought it to a stop. He watched as you stepped out of your apartment, looking like something out of his dreams, and his breath caught in his throat. No matter how many times he saw you, you always managed to take his breath away. With a wide grin, he hopped out of the car, quickly making his way around to open the door for you.

"Hey, gorgeous," he murmured, his voice deep and full of warmth as he took your hand, helping you into the car.

You flashed him that smile that made his world light up, and Bucky felt a surge of warmth in his chest. He might have been an old soul, but the way you made him feel was entirely new-like he was falling in love for the first time all over again.

The night was perfect. Dinner at a cozy little restaurant where the two of you could just be yourselves, followed by a slow walk along the waterfront. The city was alive around you, but all Bucky cared about was the sound of your voice and the feel of your hand in his. After weeks of missions, close calls, and constant vigilance, this was what he needed—a night where he could just be with you.

As the evening wound down, Bucky led you back to the Porsche, his hand resting comfortably on the small of your back. He moved to open the passenger door for you, but before you could get in, a playful thought crossed your mind. You'd seen a trend on Instagram-a silly challenge where you ask your partner to let you drive their car, just to see if they trust you. You knew Bucky loved this car, and you were certain he'd laugh it off, maybe tease you a little before getting behind the wheel himself.

But as you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, you couldn't resist asking.

"Hey, Bucky," you began, biting your lip. "Mind if I drive?"

You expected him to hesitate, to make a joke about how much he loved the car, but instead, Bucky just raised an eyebrow and handed you the keys without a second thought, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Sure, doll," he said smoothly, his voice low and confident. "It's all yours."

You blinked, surprised, the keys now in your hand.

You thought he might change his mind, but instead, Bucky just walked around to the passenger side, sliding in with that easy confidence that always made your heart skip a beat.

With a mix of excitement and nerves, you settled into the driver's seat, adjusting the mirrors and taking a deep breath. You could feel Bucky's eyes on you, watching with that familiar intensity that always made you feel like the most important person in the world. His hand found its way to your thigh, fingers gently squeezing, sending a rush of warmth through you.

"Just don't wreck it, sweetheart," he teased, though his tone was more playful than serious.

You laughed, easing the car onto the road, the engine responding smoothly to your touch. But even as you drove, Bucky's hand remained on your thigh, his fingers slowly, deliberately tracing patterns on your skin. The touch was light, teasing, but enough to send shivers up your spine.

"You're doing great," Bucky murmured, his voice lower now, edged with something that made your pulse quicken. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I love watching you take control."

His words sent a thrill through you, but it was his hand, sliding just a little higher up your thigh, that made you suck in a sharp breath. The road was suddenly harder to focus on with the way he was touching you, the heat of his hand seeping through your clothes, igniting a fire low in your belly.

"Bucky," you breathed, trying to sound composed, but the way he was looking at you-like he was ready to devour you-made it difficult to concentrate.

"Yeah?" he responded, his thumb brushing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, his touch both possessive and teasing. "Something distracting you?"

You shot him a quick glance, catching the smirk on his lips, the way his eyes had darkened with that familiar heat that made your stomach flutter. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was enjoying every second of it.

"Nothing I can't handle," you managed to say, though your voice wavered, betraying the effect he was having on you.

He chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "That's my girl."

The drive felt like it stretched on forever, Bucky's hand never leaving your thigh, his fingers exploring, teasing, driving you to distraction. The hum of the engine, the cool night air, the city lights—all of it blurred together as you focused on the heat of his touch, the way it was making your pulse race, your skin tingle with anticipation.

By the time you pulled up to the Avengers HQ, your heart was pounding, your body humming with the tension he'd so expertly built. You put the car in park, taking a moment to catch your breath before turning to face him.

Bucky was already watching you, his eyes dark and full of something that made your breath catch.

Without a word, he reached out, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin, sending another jolt of electricity through you.

"You did amazing, doll," he said softly, his voice rich with affection, but there was an edge to it now-a hunger that made your pulse quicken.

Before you could respond, Bucky leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. His lips moved against yours with a possessive hunger, one hand sliding into your hair, the other tightening its grip on your thigh. The kiss was deep, demanding, leaving you breathless as his tongue teased yours, pulling you into a rhythm that made your head spin.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were still brushing against yours, his breath hot against your skin. "I trust you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice rough, laced with a promise that made your heart race. "More than anything."

The sincerity in his words made your chest tighten, but there was no time to dwell on it as he leaned in again, his mouth finding yours with a fervor that left you dizzy. His hand slid higher, fingers digging into your thigh, making you gasp into his mouth as he deepened the kiss.

There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed you-like he was trying to pour every ounce of emotion he had into it, his lips, his touch, telling you everything words couldn't. When he finally pulled away, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest as he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes closed, his breathing ragged.

"I trust you with everything, doll," he murmured, his voice soft but full of emotion. "And I'm never letting you go."

You smiled, feeling your heart swell with affection and something deeper, something that felt like it had been there all along, just waiting to be

acknowledged. As you sat there in the dim light of the HQ's parking lot, his hand still resting on your thigh, you knew that this was just the beginning of many more moments like this-each one filled with love, passion, and a trust that would only grow stronger with time.

And with Bucky by your side, you knew you were ready for whatever came next.

[kikker-oma]

Art for Chapter 1 of "Travel Through the Darkness" by @mariasparrow ! (Also happy late birthday🎉)

Hope you like it❤️

[aquaticmercy]

All These Things That I've Done

Summary : In which Bucky leaves behind a loving note every time he goes on a mission. But what happens when you stumble on a letter not meant to be found… yet?

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x Reader (she/her) 

Warnings : cursing, mentions of death

Requested by : myself haha

Word count : 2.7k

Note : This is just angsty fluff with a happy ending, really. It was inspired by a song by the Killers of the same title. Enjoy!

Requests are open!

You woke up in the early hours of dawn, the sunlight filtering softly through the sheer curtains, blanketing warmth over the room. You rolled over, expecting to find Bucky beside you, but your hand touched only a tangle of sheets. 

Shit. What day was it? You glanced toward the calendar on the wall, and your stomach dropped. Of course. He was supposed to leave for some sort of extraction mission today.

You couldn’t deny the worry rising in your throat. You knew deep down, James Buchanan Barnes was one of the most skilled fighters on the planet. Sam always reminded you of that the last time you saw him, as if he knew how much you worried. He’d battled alien armies and come out with only a few scratches. A mission like this? It ought to be a piece of cake. You pushed anxiety back down your stomach.

The room was eerily quiet, almost haunting. You heard a soft thud from the hallway, followed by Bucky’s muttering to himself from the other side of the slightly open bedroom door. “Where did I leave my gloves?”

You smiled at his gruff frustration and shouted out just loud enough for him to hear, “Did you check the dryer?”

There was silence before you heard a cluster of steps, and then his voice echoed back through from the washing room, “Got it!”

His footsteps made their way back to you as Bucky appeared in the doorway, fully suited up in his gear. He was strapping the glove onto his human hand, his vibranium arm reflecting in the morning light. You couldn’t help but admire him, eyeing him from top to bottom, your breath hitching at how effortlessly handsome he looked in his tactical suit.

“Morning, doll,” he said with that half-smile that always made your heart flutter like a million little butterflies simultaneously beating their wings.

You sat up, rubbing your eyes as he walked over. He reached the edge of the bed, sitting down next to you. He leaned down to brush a strand of hair away from your face and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, making your chest warm with joy. “I didn't mean to wake you up.” He apologised. 

“You didn’t,” you mumbled, still groggy from a dreamless sleep. With a tired smile, you asked, “Did you hide the note yet?”

It was a tradition the two of you had started long ago: before every mission, Bucky would leave you a little note, something for you to find while he was away. A scavenger hunt, if you will, to keep you occupied, to remind you he was always thinking of you. Sometimes the notes were practical—like ‘Don’t forget to drink water while I’m gone.’ Other times, they were a bit longer and heartfelt, and it made you feel closer to him even when he was far—even when you couldn’t feel the warmth of his touch and feel the joy in his kiss.

“Of course,” he replied, chuckling. “First thing I did this morning.”

You reached for his hand, your fingers tracing the edges of his gloved palm, craving the feeling of his bare skin. “Be careful out there, okay?”

He leaned down again, this time pressing a kiss to your forehead. His lips lingered a little longer than usual. “Always am,” he murmured, but you could hear the slight uncertainty in his voice, one that you noticed only because you knew him inside out. You could detect the slightest change of inflection, of intention, in his voice. He’d been like this for the last few missions, and you’d be lying if it hadn’t made you a bit more weary. A bit more on edge.

—

Later that evening, after a long day at work, you found the note.

You had been looking around your shared home, sighing at how empty it felt. How it didn’t feel like home without the love of your life echoing the walls with his laughter, filling the air with his scent. You had missed him so much already.

When you found the note, you had been checking for loose change in your jacket pockets. It was tucked neatly into one of them, and you couldn’t help but smile as you pulled it out, unfolding the familiar handwriting. You always wore this jacket in a specific weather—when the sun was shining and it was windy enough. When you were certain it would not rain. You smiled, knowing Bucky would have had to check the forecast to make sure he put it in the right jacket for you.

The stress of the day melted away in that moment, replaced by a gentle warmth that spread through your chest. His notes always had a way of making everything better.

 This one was short but sweet:

‘Don’t miss me too much. I’ll be home before you know it.’

You smiled, your fingers brushing over the soft texture of paper. Lately, he had been cutting the edges to soften the paper after you told him you got paper cut from one of them.

How had you not noticed it in your pocket all day? Perhaps you had just been distracted. Still, the idea that his words had been with you the whole time made you feel like he’d been by your side, even though he was probably on a different continent by now. You took a deep breath, walking up to your bedroom. You folded it neatly before tucking the note into the small box on your nightstand—the box where you kept all of his letters. By now, there were dozens of small reminders of his love for you.

 You sat on the edge of the bed and opened the box, pulling out a few more letters. You took your time to read through them.

‘Don’t forget to take care of yourself. I know you get so wrapped up in work that you forget. I’ll bring you back something special.’

‘You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you for being patient with me.’

‘When I get back, can we try the new coffee shop down the street? Don’t go without me.’

You chuckled softly at one of the more recent ones. 

‘I may be a super soldier, but I still can’t fold a fitted sheet for shit. You’ll have to show me again when I get home.’

Oh, what a wonderful boyfriend you had.

 —

Two days later, the ache in your chest had only grown. You missed Bucky so dearly, and you were starting to struggle to keep yourself busy from the overwhelming emotions. 

But your worries weren’t yours alone. In the past few weeks, you have noticed subtle changes in Bucky. He was quieter than usual, his smiles a little less frequent. There were moments when he seemed far away, lost in thoughts he didn’t share. You’d catch him staring out the window or slipping away into the early morning hours, as if trying to outrun something you couldn’t see. You didn’t want to press him, not when it was clear he was trying to handle it on his own. But now, in the silence of the empty house, the signs of his unease gnawed at you. 

Cleaning the apartment helped, at least for a little while. But as you organised his things, you found another note. 

It was not hidden in the usual places, not anywhere you would even think to look, therefore not one he expected you to find. 

You wondered why the note was tucked deep into the back of one of his drawers, behind all his mission files that he’d stay up late to read up on. The edges were rounded, so you knew that this would have been somewhat recent.

There was something different about it. Folded smaller than usual, like it wasn’t meant to be found just yet. Or maybe ever.

 Your heart raced as you unfolded it, curiosity getting the best of you. It was a note, right? If it was meant for you, why did you feel so guilty opening it?

But nothing could have prepared you for the words written inside.

‘If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it back.

I’m sorry. I tried to be careful. I always try to come home to you every time. But I knew there’d be a day when I wouldn’t make it. 

Maybe this is for the best. You deserve so much better than what I can give you. You deserve better than someone with blood on his hands. You deserve someone who isn’t always living with one foot in the grave.

Please don’t waste your time mourning me. Move on. Be happy. Go get yourself someone who can give you the life you deserve. Anyone would be lucky to be loved by you.

I love you more than anything in the world.’

Your hands trembled as the letter fell from your fingers, tears already welling up in your eyes. 

The words on the note blurred as your tears fell. You tried to convince yourself that it was just Bucky’s fear talking, not a premonition. But a voice in the back of your mind whispered, What if he’s right? What if one day he doesn't come back?

What if he’s not coming back?

You’d always been confident about Bucky's ability to survive on his missions. Sure, you’d worry about the odd wound or if he’d get a scar that needed constant medical attention, but death was, more often than not, off the cards. Now that you knew he thought of it, that’s all you could think about. 

Bucky had always been so good at hiding this fear. You knew something was off, but you always thought that he was just a bit nervous, that’s all. 

But here, it was laid bare in his own handwriting. 

It broke your heart that he had already resigned himself to the idea that one day he wouldn’t come home. That his death was inevitable. And worse, that he believed it would be better off that way. 

—

The days dragged on painfully long after you found the note. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart raced uncontrollably. You were expecting news—good or bad—but it was always something else. Work. Or people checking up on you. 

So you used them as a distraction. You threw yourself to work, met with friends, and did anything to stop your worries, but nothing worked. 

Each night, the bed felt colder and lonelier, the house quieter than you would have preferred. Anxiety has already started eating you up and swallowing you whole.

To your relief, Bucky returned a few days later, safe but exhausted. You heard the door click open, and before he could say anything, you rushed to his side, wrapping your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest, taking in his scent. As he shut the door and dropped his bag, your fingers fluttered on his back, making sure he was real. Then you sunk your palm into him as if he might slip away, as if his life depended on it.

He held you tight, rubbing slow circles on your back, his voice soft in your ear, taken aback by your reaction. You usually cracked a joke or two, or excitedly kissed him on his arrival. “Hey, I’m here. I’m okay.”

Your body was tense—almost skeletal—against his. After a moment, he pulled back slightly, his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding, then quietly said, “I found it. The note.”

His face froze. He knew which one, but he had to ask. “Which one?”

“The one I shouldn’t be reading,” you paused hesitantly, “…yet.”

 Bucky’s expression fell into oblivion, looking pale and empty. He looked away. “I didn’t want you to find that,” he murmured.

Tears stung your eyes as you gripped his jacket tighter. “How long have you been carrying this stupid fucking idea that every mission is your last?”

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, struggling to find the right words to communicate how he felt. “A couple of months. It’s just how I think now,” he admitted, his voice heavy, raspy. “Every mission feels like it could be the one. And if it is... ” He trailed off, his emotions hanging in the air like a death sentence waiting to be dealt. “Maybe it’s better that way. You deserve someone who can give you a normal life.”

You reached for his hand, stifling quiet sobs, squeezing it tight. “How could you possibly say that? Do you have any idea what it feels like to know you’ve already accepted that you might not come back?”

“There've been a couple of close calls,” he admitted with a heavy heart, and this was the first time you’ve heard of this. You could tell he was just blurting out words, trying to string together an explanation as best he could. “What I’m saying is, If I were out of the picture, you wouldn’t have to worry about these things.”

You sighed, trying to steady your voice but not succeeding. “I don’t want that. I want you, James.” His first name sounded gentle in your tongue. It sounded like a longing, like a cry.

His gaze dropped to the floor, tears brimming in his eyes. “You deserve better.”

He whispered it again, your name escaping his lips like a prayer. Your heart ached. This man, who had fought battles no one could imagine, who had survived horrors and rebuilt himself piece by piece, still didn’t believe he was worth loving.

You took a steadying breath and shook your head, cupping his face gently. “You don’t get to decide what’s better,” you whispered firmly. “Do not tell me what I do or don’t deserve.”

His hands slipped from your waist, almost helpless. You were not letting him lock himself out again, not when you had the chance to pull him out for good.

“Look at me,” you said, a little sharper now, forcing him to meet your gaze, looking into his stormy eyes that once looked as blue as clear skies. “You’ve spent years carrying the weight of everything you’ve done. You’re not that man anymore, Bucky. Deep down, you must know that too.”

He shook his head, his voice hoarse. “I’m always going to be that man. I can’t just erase that.” 

“No,” you agreed, and your hand slipped down to rest against his chest, right over his heart. “But you’re also this man—the man who leaves me little notes before every mission. The man who gets frustrated when he can’t find his gloves. The man who cannot fold a fitted sheet to save his life.” You let a chuckle escape your tight chest, and it coaxed a little, hopeful smile from him, too.

“And I love all of you,” you continued. “The parts you think are broken—I love them all. So stop trying to push me away like you’re some kind of lost cause, because you’re not.”

You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, your lips lingering there before pulling back just enough to meet his eyes again. “Talk to me. Let me help. You don’t have to carry this alone, Bucky. But this note—this can’t be the way I find out about these things.” 

His lips quivered, and you could feel the cracks in his fortress gate starting to open. 

His arms wrapped around you in a desperate embrace.

After what felt like silent eternity, Bucky finally spoke, his voice rough with traces of a fragile kind of hope. “I don’t know if I can believe it all right now. But,” he gulped down a sob, “I’ll try. For you.”

“No,” you insisted, an encouraging smile on your lips that made his heart stutter, “for yourself.”

He nodded weakly, and that was enough. 

For a moment, you stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside could be burning down, and you wouldn’t care as long as he was safe.

Eventually, Bucky loosened his grip just enough to look down at you, his fingers brushing softly against your cheek. “You sure you want to put up with all this?” He just had to ask. “No take-backs.”

You laughed softly—a cathartic release, the sound filling the quiet room. You nodded, “I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me.”

For now, it didn’t matter that he didn’t truly think he was worthy of love yet.

For now, you could believe for the both of you.

And one day, maybe he’d believe it too.

-end

[obstinateson]

and tell them i was loved

that you always loved me

i know you didn't

but spare them the vision

[guardian-angle22]

911: Lone Star | Nancy & Marjan ↳ for @sznofthesticks