#[ or a personal sense of responsibility in the same way that bucky does ]

[anecdotist]

if you've followed me for any amount of time you know i love winter soldier (2018) run, but let me just write an essay to convince you to read it.

ya’ll. seriously. it’s so, so, so important to bucky as a person. it’s, honestly, the biggest character development for him. because it’s one of those rare times where he does something, and it’s not about steve, or nat, or captain america.

like please, don’t get me wrong. i love steve and nat. bucky loves steve and nat. they’re both so incredibly vital to his character, and in completely different ways! bucky practically idolizes steve–he’s like an older brother, and they’ve got a friendship that is so central to both of them. they text, they drop everything for each other, they’d do whatever it took to save or help the other–but that’s kinda the issue, too. because steve does a lot more of the asking than bucky does. and it’s always well-intentioned, but it’s not always the best for bucky. bucky makes the choice on his own to try not to kill people anymore. but steve asks for him to be sniper backup and bucky’s right back at it again, pulling the trigger for steve when he can’t. and that’s the thing, is that there’s always going to be that power dynamic in that relationship where he’s willing to do anything for steve, because that’s what he’s always done. it’s what they’ve always done.

and with nat it’s kind of a same song different verse, in a lot of ways. they’d do anything for each other, they have each other’s backs–nat was pretty much glued to his side when he was captain america, and even after, when they worked on eradicating threats for shield. bucky loves and admires nat, both as a friend and a lover, and he wants nothing more than to protect and help her. but i think, in a lot of ways, the power in the relationship lies with nat–she’s the cool-headed one, the logical thinker, and bucky, bless his dumb little heart, throws all logic and thinking out the window whenever his heart gets involved. he’s emotional, and vulnerable, and it puts him in a… reactive? submissive? role in their relationship. for as much as bucky may call the shots at times, he only does it because he knows he has nat’s trust. but more often than not, nat’s the one pointing out things to bucky–she’s the better spy, the better manipulator, the one who’s memories, while compromised, are clearer because she’s lived more life than he has. and i think he really just… grows in fits and starts around her. because i think bucky wants to be a man nat admires and thinks of him as, but i don’t… i don’t think that’s what bucky always wants? i think bucky and nat have very different goals and feelings, and while there’s always this bond of understanding and shared experience it’s just… not where bucky needs to be to grow for himself, as himself

because let’s face it, he hasn’t been given the option as to what he wanted to do with his life since he was a kid, basically. when his dad died, he essentially dropped out of school and joined the army. and then at 16, was chosen to be captain america’s sidekick. he hasn’t been his own man, making his own choices, standing on his own outside of everyone’s shadows–for good or bad–since he was 16! and what does he choose to do? he wants to help people find redemption and start over. you know, like he did, like what he’s always working towards.

and i think it’s incredibly fascinating that the two people shown helping him are sharon and tony. two of the people he befriended, who only know him from this time. and one of which, he tried to kill when he first met (which is a whole other thing in and of itself). but both sharon and tony get this… new mission, new goal, new bucky, in a way that i don’t know nat or steve would. not as intimately. because, i think in a lot of ways, steve will always see 40′s bucky, and nat will always see red room bucky, but sharon and tony only know the winter soldier turned captain america who let himself be put on trial, who let himself be put into a russian gulag, and who died trying to live up to being captain america at a time when the world was dissolving in fear. they know the current bucky who did all those things–and yeah, both sharon and tony probably read files on what bucky did in the past. but that’s just it–it’s the past for them. information on paper. it’s not what they’ve seen him do and seen him work for. they’ve watched him work to redeem himself. and they’re here for him now because they’re friends, yes, but because they also believe that people deserve second chances–and they, more than most, know what it’s like to need that redemption.

and that’s honestly what the entire run is about. it’s about how no one’s too far gone to not deserve a second chance. that sometimes, what someone needs is the opportunity to do some good. and that the difference between saving someone and helping someone save themselves is all about giving people the chance and freedom to make their own choices, for good or bad, and simply doing your best to support and love them.

[thewinterdrafts]

Flesh and Metal | The White Wolf

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (1st Person)

Word Count: 6,062

Summary: Bucky Barnes is everything you ever wanted—soft, thoughtful, devoted. He loves you with a quiet intensity that should make you feel like the luckiest person alive. But after so many months of being together, he still hasn’t touched you. Not like that. When you finally confront him, you realize the truth is so much deeper. He does want you. He just doesn’t know how to ask. And tonight, for the first time—he’s finally ready to give in.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW, Sub!Bucky (lots of begging you guys), Angst, Swearing, Dominance & submission dynamics, Self-doubt & insecurity, Trauma responses & PTSD, Fear of abandonment & rejection, BDSM themes (light control, praise, permission-based dynamics), Overstimulation & begging, Implied past abuse

A/N: hey guys! this is my first ever story here, and i've worked so hard on it, my brain might dissolve through my ears tonight. i hope you'll like it, happy reading 🤍

📍Masterlist

It has been four months. Four months and one day, to be exact, since Bucky Barnes became mine. I’ve never heard so many people congratulate me and warn me in the same breath, but I never cared. Not when he’s been so precious, so thoughtful, so achingly romantic. Not when he’s spent every single day making me feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

I love him more than life itself. And with him—life and death feel closer than they should.

So why does it feel like I’m still not enough?

Four months, and he hasn't touched me. Not once. Not like that. 

Every time I try, every time I lean in, every time I press just a little too close, he pulls away. Sometimes subtly, sometimes not. Sometimes it’s a hesitant step back, sometimes it’s a firm grip on my wrist, pushing me away just enough to make it clear.

I tried everything. Cute lingerie. Whispered invitations. I even got my hair done for our anniversary last night. Nothing helped, I couldn't shake his composed demeanor, no matter what I did.

Maybe, he doesn’t want me at all. Why would he?

The Bucky Barnes could have anyone. Someone like Natasha—gorgeous, cool, effortlessly magnetic. The kind of woman who could hold her own against a super soldier, the kind who wouldn’t hesitate. The kind who makes sense with him.

Me on the other hand? What was I thinking, believing I would be enough? Just a simple girl, coming from a boring family, with no interesting backstory, nothing to show, nothing to–

"Baby?" Bucky put his face an inch from mine, which immediately snapped me out of my spiralling thoughts. "You okay? Is your stomach upset?" He pointed to the remaining of mac and cheese he cooked. 

He grew to be extremely good at reading my expressions over the past few months. He usually doesn't need to ask; he just knows what's wrong, and eliminates the problem without a word. This time, though, he didn't know. How could he?

"No," I say flatly.

"Sure? Because–"

"I am fine," I snap, louder than anticipated. 

I immediately regret my tone when I see Bucky stiffen, the sound of his metal arm clenching into an unbreakable fist. He takes exactly three steps back from me; measured and calculated. His eyes terrified; I can almost see how he is searching for the possible threats or punishments he would receive, now that he senses the change in the mood. He's still as a sculpture, except for the arms; they are shaking from how strongly he is sqeezing his fist.

Oh, I fucked up.

"I'm sorry. It's just been a really hard week on me, I-"

"You're hurt." 

It's not a question, it's a fact.

"I'm not hurt–"

"I hurt you."

It's not a fact, it's a crime. At least that's how he says it.

I look down to the tiled floor where I can still spot the signs of Bucky's cooking. I cannot look at him. I would need to lie to his face and that is one thing I was never able to do. Not after what he's been through. 

I notice a small movement from him as he takes another step; farther. Way farther away from me. I take a deep breath and force myself to look at him, wishing I didn't as the sight instantly breaks my heart; his eyes are filled with tears, and he's so confused. Scared. Terrified of what is coming. He's gripping onto the side of his shirt, like he always does when he feels unsafe. A lump forms in my throat as I try to open my mouth to speak. I've ruined him. 

"I– uh." The sound I made was barely a whisper, but it made him visibly flinch. "Do you... Do you not... want me?"

Bucky's terrified gaze turns into utter confusion in a matter of seconds. He blinks – for the first time in maybe minutes – as he's struggling to understand my question. I collect all my leftover courage and hope to keep talking. 

"You push me away," I say, trying to be as soft as possible. "We've been together for months, but never... together."

I feel so stupid for not being able to just straight out say it. I'm hoping he somehow understands what I mean, but judging by his scrunched eyebrows, I'm gonna have to be more specific.

 I let out a big sigh and close my eyes to make the embarrassment less painful. "Bucky, we never had sex." 

As soon as the words leave my mouth, his face drops. I lose him again somewhere very far away from me, and he keeps looking at me like I am about to destroy him completely. 

"If you don't want me, that's okay," I assure him, ignoring the bitter taste in my mouth. "I know I'm not the prettiest girl, and you've probably seen better—"

"No!" he snaps, so I lift my head up. He looks horrified, like I've just said something unspeakable. I wait for him to continue, but instead, he keeps staring at me, as if his eyes could tell everything he is unable to.

"No?" I echo. "Then why do you run every time I try to touch you like that?"

He breaks the eye contact by strictly looking at the kitchen counter right in front of him; or at anything that is not me. From all the months I've spent in his presence, I recognize this look too well. He's ashamed. 

"Bucky..."

Silence. He grips the fabric of his shirt, twisting it in his hands. A nervous tick, but to him, a grounding mechanism. He's really trying not to lose himself.

"I—, I don't—," he stutters. "I don't know how."

"What?" I blink. “Bucky, you’ve—” I hesitate. “You’ve been with other women before.”

His head jerks up with a flicker of panic and frustration.

 “That’s not—that’s different.”

“Different how?”

Bucky is refusing to look at me, so I stand up from my seat to make way towards him. He takes a sharp breath when I'm within his reach, but doesn't move. That's a good sign. 

"Look at me, baby," I ask, softly. His eyes snap up instantly, and I see it all there. The fear, the desperation, the battlefield in his head. "Tell me what's wrong."

He tries to do so; he opens his mouth, swallows, exhales, shakes his head, tries again, but he fails, no matter how hard he tries.

"Do you want me?" I ask bluntly.

He nods, still staring at the marble countertop. Okay.

"Are you scared to ask for what you want?"

Another nod. 

"Do you trust me?"

This one is instant.

"Yes."

"Then tell me."

He lets out a shaky breath before he swallows. He turns his head to me, face flustered, his chest moving up and down as he tries to regulate himself.

"Please, can you—," his voice dies before he can finish. He clearly is struggling, like he doesn't know how to want things and the fact breaks a small part of my heart permanently.

"Go on, Bucky. What do you need?" I encourage him.

"I—," he stutters, and then shakes his head hard, like the words are physically hurting him inside his head.

 His body, however, tells the truth on behalf of him. The way his hands tremble and his chest heaves with each exhale, the way his metal fingers twitch against his thigh—he is fighting himself.

I let the silence stretch, waiting, watching the way his face twists with frustration, with hesitation. With want.

“Baby,” I say softly.

His eyes cracks open, blue burning with something raw, something pleading. He sucks in a breath, and for a moment, I think he finally gives in, but then he shakes his head again, hard, turning his face away.

I click my tongue, grabbing his chin, forcing him to meet my gaze. “You want something. I can see it. I can feel it.”

His chest rises sharply, lips parting, but still, he doesn't speak. I lean in, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. 

“Do you need me to guide you?”

His entire body jerks, a sharp inhale ripping from his throat. His fingers are clenching into fists, the tremor rolling through his shoulders like a quake. But he still doesn't answer me.

My grip tightens slightly, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Bucky, if you don’t tell me what you need, I can’t give it to you.”

He exhales shakily, a frustrated, broken sound. His brows knit together, his hands lifting before falling back to his thighs, his whole frame trembling.

“Please,” he whispers.

My heart clenches. “Yes?”

His head dropped forward, breath ragged. “Please… please tell me what to do.”

Oh. 

Oh, fuck.

I smile, slow and knowing, letting the moment stretch, letting him feel the weight of what he's just asked for.

“I’ll show you.” I say, and I find my voice firm. Commanding.

His breath stutters, his entire body tensing, every muscle coiled tight with restraint, with hesitation. He’s fighting it, clinging to the instinct to resist—until I lean in, my mouth brushing over the shell of his ear.

 “If you'll be a good boy for me.”

The sound he makes—soft, broken, fucking relieved—rips through me like a shockwave. My core tightens, ignites, burns, a volcano threatening to erupt at the sheer power of it. 

Bucky Barnes is submissive. For me. 

"Follow me," I say, and as if I freed him from an invisible curse, he makes his way after me.

All at once, every doubt I ever had—about myself, about us—disintegrates. How did I not see this before? How could I have been so blind? He doesn’t need distance. He doesn’t need time. He just needs me. Me in control. Me guiding him. Me telling him exactly what to do.

And fuck, if that isn’t the most intoxicating realization of all, I don't know what is.

I may not be the most experienced woman alive, but that doesn’t matter right now. What matters is that he needs me to be present. He needs me to take this. Own this. There’s no room for doubt, no room to shy away, when he trusts me to take care of him.

I release him just to check his expression, searching for even the slightest hint of hesitation, but to my surprise, I find none. Not a single trace. His eyes track my every movement, locked onto me like a soldier awaiting an order.

And it shouldn't turn me on the way it does.

"Do you want me right now?" My voice is steady, even as I close the space between us, just by one step. 

His gaze sweeps over me, dragging from my lips, to my throat, to my body before he gives a sharp, assured nod.

 "Then take off my dress." 

He moves instantly, without hesitation—like he’s been waiting for this since the moment he met me. His fingers find the hem of my dress; his touch cautious, reverent, like he’s afraid I might pull away at any second. Like he can’t quite believe this is happening.

The contrast of his warm, flesh hand on one thigh, and his ice-cold vibranium fingers on the other, sends a shiver tearing down my spine. Slowly, deliberately, he lifts the fabric over my head, the brush of his knuckles against my skin leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

Once I’m bare before him, he takes a small step back—just to look. His lips part slightly, his breathing uneven, chest rising and falling faster, deeper. His eyes—piercing, devastating—roam every inch of me, burning me from the inside out.

And then, he moves.

He throws the dress across the room without looking, never once taking his eyes off of me. His entire body is vibrating, like he’s barely holding himself together, barely restraining the need thrumming beneath his skin.

The sight of him is stealing every breath I have left.

“Can I take your shirt off?” I break the silence, my own voice softer now.

“Please,” he begs.

I waste no time. I step in, close enough for his ragged breath to ghost over my skin, and strip him bare. It’s a summer night, so he’s only wearing a thin, black V-neck, already clinging to the sweat on his chest–or at least, he was. With one fluid motion, I pull it over his head and let it drop to the floor.

I take a moment, just a few seconds, to admire him.

His body is all strength, broad shoulders and sculpted muscle carved by battle and time. Scars litter his skin, testaments to wars fought and survived, and yet, under the soft glow of the moonlight, he looks like something untouchable. Ethereal. Unreal.

I swallow hard, licking my lips as my gaze travels downward, over his defined abs, the way they tense under my attention, down to the dark trail of hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his boxers. I feel it then—the heat pooling low, the unbearable pulse between my thighs. And he’s just standing there, watching me, eyes so dark they’re nearly black.

I’m already so wet for him, it’s almost embarrassing.

"Undress me," I whisper. 

His breath catches, eyes flash with hunger, the way they always do when he wants but won’t take. But this time, he moves.

With careful fingers, he reaches behind me for the clasp of my bra, hesitant yet desperate. This is as far as we’ve ever gone. Four months of waiting, of skirting the edge, of Bucky refusing to let himself see me without clothes. Back then, I thought it was because he didn’t want me, because I wasn’t enough.

But now? Now I know the truth. He wouldn’t have known what to do. He was afraid to ruin this. Afraid to ruin me.

I snap out of my thoughts as I feel the cold air of the AC dance on my bare torso. My nipples instantly harden as a result, and Bucky notices it just as quickly. His lips are apart, and he's staring at them like an animal on his prey. The way he wants me fills me with every ounce of confidence I’ve ever needed.

"You can touch them," I whisper, not sure he even heard me, but then he takes two steps towards, putting his flesh hand on my waist.

I gasp, the breath catching in my throat as his warm, steady touch trails up my skin. His movements are slow—painfully, torturously slow—like he’s memorizing me with his hands, drinking me in through touch alone. He reaches my left breast and he cups it, his thumb immediately finding my hard nipple. His breath shudders, sharp and heavy, his chest rising with a strained inhale as he circles my achingly hard peak with his thumb, teasing, testing, learning me.

I struggle to hold in my moan, my teeth sinking into my lip as he pinches it, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure straight between my legs. And fuck, he’s watching. His vibranium arm remains stiff at his side, fingers curled into a tight, trembling fist, his jaw slightly slack, his lips parted as he watches himself touch me.

He’s fascinated. Hypnotized. Like this is the first time he’s ever allowed himself to truly want something.

"Both hands, please." My voice is barely a whisper, barely a sound, just a needy, broken plea. His head snaps up, and for the first time in what feels like forever, his eyes meet mine.

His metal hand, still clenched in restraint, relaxes. With slow, careful hesitation, he brings it up, inch by inch, his fingertips skimming my ribs before finally—finally—he touches me. A shiver rips through me, my body instinctively arching into the icy contrast of metal against my heated skin. I don’t pull away; if anything, I lean into him, chasing the sensation, craving more.

"You're being so good for me," I praise, my voice low.

Bucky fucking breaks.

His entire body stutters, trembles; his breath hitching, his knees nearly buckling beneath him as a wrecked, desperate whimper falls from his lips.

Fuck. That has to be the sexiest sound in the world.

“Can I—” His voice cracks, his fingers flexing against my skin. “Can I please kiss you?”

He is pleading, over and over, his voice shaky, utterly undone.

“Please, I need it. Please.”

His words shoot straight to my core, the need in his voice a direct pulse between my legs. I want him so much, I might sublime from the heat he ignites inside me.

I don’t hesitate. I grab his arm, pulling him against me, forcing his bare chest to crash into mine. He melts against me, his body burning, muscles taut, already trembling with restraint. And then, I kiss him. Or maybe he kisses me. Either way, the moment our lips meet, Bucky loses himself.

He kisses me like he’s starving, like he’s drowning and I’m his only air. His mouth is hungry, relentless, desperate, lips crashing into mine as he’s trying to devour me whole.

And fuck, his hands.

They roam everywhere, one gripping the small of my back, the other skimming just beneath my panties, teasing, taunting me, and just when I think it couldn't get any better, his metal hand clamps around my ass, gripping tight, keeping me steady. Feeling the cool vibranium pressing into my heated skin, I moan straight into his mouth, my body shuddering in his hold.

“Put me on the bed. Now.”

The words leave me in a command, and Bucky moves before I can even take another breath. With one arm, just one, he lifts me with ease, like I weigh nothing to him. He lays me down, gentle but firm, already moving to cover me with his body—but I stop him.

“Not yet.”

I shake my head, and he immediately halts, his breathing labored, controlled. He looks wrecked, like he's using every bit of self control to keep himself away from me. Still kneeling between my legs, still so fucking obedient, and yet—his eyes. His fucking eyes, they’re eating me alive.

“Take it off,” I order, nodding toward his jeans.

Bucky keeps his eyes locked on mine, hands trailing down, slow and deliberate as he reaches for the button of his jeans. With a quick flick of his fingers, they’re undone. His piercing gaze never leaves me, his eyes dragging over every inch of my body, devouring, worshipping.

I don't have much time before he stands up and slowly pushes his jeans down. I gasp when I see the thin, black material of his boxers that do nothing to hide him. The thick, heavy outline of him, pressing against the fabric, takes my breath away.

I’ve never seen him like this before. Not even close. I’ve felt him—hard, pressing against me on nights where he’d let himself have just a little. But then he would stop and shut it down. I couldn't understand why, not until now, and I don't have one second to think about it, because he pushes his boxers down. His cock is finally bared to me in full, and Jesus fucking Christ.

He is huge. How is that gonna fit?

“Please,” I hear a small plea towards him, and I shot my eyes back to his face. 

His breath is wild, erratic, chest heaving like he can’t get enough air, like he’s on the edge of breaking. His flesh hand is poised, ready to touch himself, to relieve even an ounce of the pressure, but he doesn't. Not without my word. I bite my lip, reveling in the power of it, in the way his entire body trembles under restraint.

“Take this off, too,” I instruct, gesturing to the lace panties that I’d bought months ago—back when I thought he’d see them then.  Back when I thought we’d be here so much sooner. 

But I don’t have a single complaint left in my body, because when Bucky finally moves—he rips them off. The thin fabric tears from me in one sharp pull, and for a split second, I wonder if he just ripped them in half.

His eyes drag over me, drinking in every inch of bare skin, mapping the places he’s never let himself truly look at before. I feel just how wet I am, now that there’s nothing to soak up the slick. I can feel it all pooling between my thighs, proof of just how badly I want him.

A flicker of  shyness grips me—how did I get this lucky? How did I end up with him, undone and starving, in front of me? But I don’t let myself hide; instead, I sit up slowly, deliberately, my movements calculated, letting myself kneel on the soft mattress.

I look up at him, like I could devour him with a single breath. The six-foot-tall ex-assassin is towering over me, radiating pure heat, his entire body coiled tight like a predator barely holding back.

And then, soft as a prayer, I say, “I want you.”

As if I’ve broken a curse, Bucky snaps. His fingers clamp around my throat, his mouth slamming into mine, the sheer force of it knocking me back onto the bed. He pins me down, all of his weight pressing into me, heavy, suffocating, absolutely fucking perfect. The way he kisses me makes me crazy; he's hungry, possessive, and so filthy, I can only moan as a response.

His cock, thick and heavy, sliding between my soaking slit, his length gliding right over my clit with each slow, torturous grind.

“Fuck—” I moan straight into his mouth, my hips instinctively tilting up, chasing every ounce of friction he gives me.

I lose every bit of control I had left. Overcome with greed, I grab at him, pull at him, take as much as I can. My fingers tangle in his long hair, keeping him locked to me, refusing to let him break the kiss for even a second. 

I let my other hand wander; I trace the sharp lines of his back, trailing lower, until my palm finds his ass. I squeeze, hard, forcing him to rock against me even harder, dragging his cock rougher, deeper through my slick folds. My breathing is a wreck, my body moving instinctively, clinging to him, needing more, more, more.

I want him. All over me. Inside me. Taking me apart.

“Can I—” His voice shatters, breathless. He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, his eyes wrecked with need.

“Can I please put it in?”

And fuck, he looks at me like a puppy, wide-eyed, begging.

“Please, I’ll make you feel so good,” he purrs against my neck, teeth grazing my skin, lips pressing open-mouthed kisses.

“God, yes,” I groan.

Bucky grabs himself, his fingers shaking with need as he positions his cock right at my entrance. He could thrust in immediately, take what we both want without hesitation, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pauses; his eyes flick back up to mine, searching, waiting, needing something more.

And I know exactly what he wants.

“Be a good boy and fuck me, Bucky.”

I'm way past hesitation or shame. All I want is him taking over me, claiming me, pressing me into himself. The words shatter something inside him; his mouth parts, his pupils blown wide, and then—without ever breaking eye contact—he slides inside.

A broken moan leaves my lips as my spine arches, my body opening for him, stretching around him, and fuck, he fills me.

Completely. Entirely. Devastatingly.

I’ve been aching for this moment for months. I’ve fantasized about him taking me, and now he’s finally inside me. A deep pressure builds low in my belly, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as he pushes deeper and deeper, until I feel the blunt tip of his cock press against my cervix.

He’s so fucking hard. I can feel him throbbing inside me, feel the pulse of his cock against my walls, and it drives me insane. I wait for him to finally move, but after a few seconds of stillness, I open my eyes.

Bucky is watching me so carefully, his eyes flicking over my face, searching for even the slightest sign of discomfort. His arms shake violently, his knuckles white from gripping the sheets beside my head. He’s breathing fast, erratic, his small, shaky breaths cold against my ear. And he’s moving too slowly, like he’s terrified of losing control.

“Relax, baby. You can let go.”

I lift my hand, gently stroking his beautiful face, my voice barely a whisper. His eyes soften, then immediately darken.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasps, his voice hoarse, ruined.

“You can’t,” I assure him. “I can take it. I want to take it.”

The sound that escapes him—a helpless whimper, like he’s been waiting his entire life to hear those words. His body trembles, his control hanging by a thread, his cock twitching inside me at the sheer relief of it.

He might be above me, but he is completely at my mercy.

“You’re doing so good,” I murmur, just inches from his lips, my breath fanning over his skin. “Don’t stop.”

The second I say it, he melts.

Raw, desperate need unleashes from him so suddenly, it knocks the breath from my lungs. I wheeze in surprise, barely able to keep up before he grabs the bedframe above my head with his vibranium arm and picks up the pace—hard. The deep, wrecked moan that rips from his throat sets me on fire; a wildfire raging low and uncontrollable, consuming every last of my coherent thoughts. All I know is him—the way he moves, the way he fills me, the way every precise thrust hits where I need him most.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, and he collapses into me, his mouth claiming mine in a sloppy, desperate kiss. His thrusts are relentless, shaking the entire goddamn bed, and I have to grip his vibranium arm for dear life just to keep myself in place.

Somewhere in his haze, even now, he thinks to protect me—his flesh hand cradling the top of my head, shielding me from the bedframe. My chest tightens at the gesture, and I let my lips trail down his sweat-slicked neck in silent gratitude, my teeth grazing over his skin.

Something inside me snaps as I feel his salty skin on my tounge. My nails rake down his back, digging into the hard muscle, desperate to leave my mark. My teeth sink into his shoulder, biting, scratching, taking him. We’re sliding against each other, slick with sweat, the heat of the summer night making everything feel even filthier, more raw, more real.

And Bucky is falling apart.

He’s moaning, breaking, unraveling against me, the sounds deep and ragged, each one rougher than the last. If I didn’t know better—if I didn’t know how utterly overwhelmed with pleasure he is—I’d think he was in pure agony from the helpless little cries slipping from his lips.

“Tell me I’m good for you,” he whispers, almost afraid to ask, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Bucky.” 

The words fall from my lips like a promise, and fuck, the sharp, broken gasp he lets out shreds me to pieces. It’s high and desperate, so fucking needy, and it goes straight to my core.

He kisses me, hard and possessive.

“I’ve been waiting…” His voice is unraveling, barely understandable.

”… for so fucking long.”

Then suddenly—

Thrust.

“And you—”

Thrust.

“Feel—”

Thrust.

“So—”

Thrust.

“Good.”

His voice rasps in pure, guttural pleasure. I’m nothing but a puddle beneath him, completely ruined, and somehow, he’s not finished.

His rhythm snaps, his thrusts turning harder, rougher, deeper, more possessive.

“Mine,” he snarls, his voice low, primal. He slams into me, hard, forcing me to take it.

“Mine, you understand?”

I can’t speak. Can’t think. There’s no rational thought left, no words, just pure, consuming pleasure. So instead, I match his pace, my hips rolling up to meet every devastating thrust. The way his words set me on fire, I let the flames consume me. My orgasm builds dangerously fast, and I’m hanging by a fucking thread, barely holding on under the brutal precision of his movements.

“Bucky—God—”

His name falls from my lips like a prayer, breathless and desperate.

“I’m—”

Judging by his increased pace, he knows exactly what I'm trying to say. He lifts himself, just enough to look me in the eyes, and I’m trying so hard not to let my eyes roll back, not to completely lose myself in him.

“Please.”

His voice shatters, breaking apart in my ear, pleading.

“Please cum on my cock. Please, baby, please—”

This is all I need to spiral. The coil inside me snaps violently, my entire body arching, shattering as a scream tears from my throat. I crash into pleasure, drowning in it, my walls clenching tight around him, milking him, pulling him deeper.

“Oh, fuck—” Bucky’s voice breaks, his hips stuttering, his rhythm completely unraveling as he feels me fall apart around him.

“That’s it—fuck—that’s my girl.”

His praise sends a violent aftershock through me, my body trembling, shaking, completely spent. I gasp for air, trying to regulate myself after the most devastating orgasm of my life, but I don't stand a chance. Bucky's not finished, not yet.

“I—I can’t—”

Bucky’s voice isn’t even human anymore. It’s a shattered, breathless little whimper, choked between desperate gasps, his body trembling like he’s about to break. His hips falter, his cock twitching so agressively inside me I swear I can feel it in my throat.

But he won’t let go. Not yet.

Not without permission.

“Please—”

The word falls apart in his throat, barely even understandable.

“Please, baby, please—please let me cum, I need it, I need you, I can’t hold it, I can’t—”

He’s whining, his breath is gone, his voice is gone, his body is gone; he is completely, utterly mine.

“Release it, baby.” My fingers tighten in his hair, dragging him deeper inside me. “Be a good boy and give it to me.”

And that’s it; he doesn’t just fall apart—he disintegrates.

His hips slam forward, burying himself so fucking deep inside me, holding us together, his muscles locking up, convulsing. And if this wasn't enough, he whimpers.

“Ohhh—fuck, fuck, fuck—”

His cock twitches and throbs uncontrollably, and I feel everything. The first violent, overwhelming pulse. The hot, thick flood of him spilling deep inside me. His hips keep jerking, his muscles keep locking up, his whimpers keep breaking apart into desperate, breathless sobs.

“Baby, baby—please, please, oh my God, I—I can’t—”

His hands claw at my waist, face burrowed into my neck, his breath a gasping mess. His voice cracks, completely breaking apart, and then a single, desperate sob escapes from him.

He cries. Bucky Barnes cries when he cums.

His body shakes uncontrollably, his hips rocking forward on their own, like he’s trying to push it even deeper, like he’s chasing something he’ll never be able to reach.

“Baby, baby—please hold me, please—fuck, I love you, I love you so much—”

His voice is cracking, completely gone, and I gasp as I feel another orgasm building inside me. Another slow, rolling wave, ignited by his moans, his desperate little whimpers, the way he’s still trembling inside me.

“Bucky—oh, fuck—”

The second he realizes what’s happening, it destroys him all over again.

“Baby, you’re gonna— Fuck, fuck, fuck—please, baby, please—”

His hips snap forward as a last burst of desperate energy, his hands gripping my waist so tightly I feel the bruises forming.

“Oh, baby—please, please cum on my cock again, I wanna feel it—please, baby, please, please—”

The filth of it, the raw need in his voice immedately shatters me. I scream his name, my body convulsing around him, my walls tightening, pulsing, taking him deeper, squeezing him so hard he sobs.

“Oh—oh fuck, baby, I’m still cumming—”

His cock throbs again, another weak, helpless little spill, and he whimpers so high and wrecked he sounds like he’s dying.

“I can’t stop—baby, I can’t stop, I can’t stop—”

His breath is gone, tears spilling onto my skin, his voice a trembling, begging mess, pleading for the final release. Not a moment later, he collapses.

His body slumps into mine; arms useless, his breathing erratic and broken. His tears still fall, his entire body shivering, overstimulated, still whimpering, still sobbing.

He’s still inside me, throbbing. Utterly gone from this world.

His hands stay locked firmly around me, fingers clutching, shaking, gripping, like he’ll die if I let go. And on top of that, he just won't stop crying. Soft, helpless little sobs hide into my skin, as he's holding onto me for dear life.

“Baby,” he whispers, his voice so broken and small.

“Baby, please don’t let go—please don’t go.”

My heart shatters to a million pieces in a matter of seconds. It becomes evidently clear that he's not here right now. He’s somewhere else, somewhere dark, somewhere cold, somewhere where he had nothing and no one. I feel it in the way he clings to me and his hands shake as they grip my waist. The way his face tucks into my throat, burrowing, searching, nuzzling like he’s trying to disappear into me; like he’s afraid this isn’t real.

"Shhh, Bucky,” I murmur, kissing his damp temple. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even though I wanted my words to soothe him, he breaks even more instead. His breath catches on a sob, his entire body curling into me, fingers fisting in the sheets, in my hair, in anything he can hold onto. 

“You’re so good to me,” he gasps, his voice shaking. “So perfect, so soft, I—fuck, I don’t deserve this—”

His lips quiver against my skin, hands tightening around me, pulling me closer. The realization that he’s not just crying from overstimulation, hits me like a brick. He’s crying because he’s never felt this before.

Never felt this safe. Never felt this loved. Never felt this cherished, taken care of. 

“Bucky,” I whisper, cupping his tear-streaked face, making him look at me.

His blue eyes are glassy and vulnerable, still wet with tears. God, he looks so much younger like this. Like a little boy, back in the ‘40s, nineteen years old, held too many responsibilities, never got held in return.

I immediately want to fix every bad thing that's ever happened to him.

“You deserve all of this, my sweet boy,” I whisper, pressing my lips to his forehead. “You deserve every single second of love. You deserve to be taken care of.”

He lets out a tiny little sob that slits my heart in half, like a butcher knife.

“But I—” His voice cracks, his fingers digging into my waist. “I don’t—I don’t know how to do this. I don’t—”

His breath hitches, his chest rising, falling too fast. I know him enough to realize he’s panicking, his brain is fighting him, pushing against the comfort, trying to tell him he doesn’t deserve this.

I also know how to shut it down. I pull him into me, wrap my arms so tightly around him that he has no choice but to believe that this is real. I'm real.

“It’s okay, baby,” I say gently, stroking his hair, feeling his body relax against mine. “You don’t have to know how. Just let me love you.”

He immediately eases into me, his breath slowing, his shaking finally dying down. He doesn't know, but he's holding my own broken pieces together too, since I've never felt a love so consuming before. 

“If I fall asleep,” he whispers, as if he is about to say something unthinkable, “will you be here when I wake up?”

My dear God. 

"Of course, Bucky. I'll be right here, always," I promise, my voice firm, not leaving any space for doubts in his broken mind.

He buries his face into my neck as an answer, and with that, Bucky Barnes is fast asleep in my arms.

[katatonicimpression]

It's the middle of the afternoon on New Year's Eve and I have fuck all to do so let's watch the Sam episode of What If?

DISCLAIMER: This is the first, and so far only, full episode of this show that I have ever watched. It did not inspire me to watch more. So, that's my bias I guess.

Background

There was some controversy about all of this. Sam appeared briefly in the zombies episode in the first season of this show. He's already a zombie and is quickly killed (re-killed?) by bucky, who makes a quip about it.

The line feels kinda off, like they're trying to recreate the banter between the characters in the live action (finding each other annoying etc) but it falls flat. There's no love there. In civil war (which takes place before the canon divergence in the show), their banter still has a level of camaraderie to it. They're riffing off each other, and fighting together and saving each other. It's weird to have bucky quip at the prospect of sam's death in a scene that takes place after those scenes.

It feels like reading one of the thousands of "incorrect quotes" posts on this app that write Bucky being horrible to Sam for no reason. It's the exact same emotional experience. Put a pin in that.

There was another controversy related to this, which is that in the same episode, Sharon also dies. Allegedly, one of the main writers (matthew chauncey) said that they should give her a particularly violent death because "no one likes her... he belongs with peggy". This is an open expression of violent misogyny so yeah that's fun. What a piece of shit... allegedly.

Sam does not appear in any other episode of what if s1. When s2 came out, his absence felt conspicuous, and many people commented on it. In particular, there's an episode of s2 that is vaguely medieval/robin-hood vibes, and Sam is noticeably absent from Steve's band of merry men. Steve's best friend, closest partner of over 50 years of comics isn't there. The falconry themed superhero is not in the medieval episode. People rightfully called bs.

The show felt similar to reading posts and fics in the fandom, and the way that people will minimise Sam's existence in Canon. Put a pin in that.

One person involved in making it (I think a writer but I can't remember and I searched for like ten minutes it's NYE gimme a break) responded publically to these complaints. They cited a supposed uncertainty over sam's future in the mcu (specifically whether he was cap or falcon) as a reason for not including him.

This was very funny, because 1) There was no ambiguity over whether Sam would be cap - it was a dead cert since Endgame what are you on? and 2) no one would've been mad if Sam had appeared as Falcon.

This response had the same vibes as when random fans say weird and ignorant things in Sam's tag and, when confronted, will offer weird excuses that don't make any sense. Pin it.

The other bit of context here is the (admittedly heavy) discussion of how What If launched Captain Carter, a decision that had to have been made around the same time that they decided to do samcap. I've talked before about this; it's complicated and the discourse is annoying. But ultimately, it comes across very badly for the mcu that they created a white female british captain america (not captain britain from Excalibur, but specifically a captain america character) specifically to launch near simultaneously with a Black captain america. It looks bad and I don't like it.

Anyway, so after this person who's name i can't find put their foot in their mouth, Marvel released a few stills from s3, revealing that Sam would be in one episode. People were happy to see him, and (aside from the VERY VALID CRITIQUE that WhatIf!Sam doesn't have the eyelashes he so clearly ought to) people were mostly placated.

The Episode

I love mark ruffalo but his voice performance in the opening scene is not it. Also the narration is mixed a lot louder than the dialogue... which is a jarringly amateur mistake. Ok whatever i'm gonna try to keep my salty complaining sam-focused

So, the show opens with a version of the opening samsteve meetcute from CATWS. But this time, without a mutual exchange of vulnerability. This time Sam is just offering Bruce comfort.

Then he literally gives him therapy.

Then he takes him to Louisiana to the boat, a redo of the sambucky scenes in tfatws. I'm not the first person to point this out, but there's a big difference here. Bucky came to louisiana uninvited with a (technically unwanted, but still very impressive) gift for Sam and then spent the day working on the boat as a gesture of friendship. He was performing acts of service (or however you express it) because he wanted to preserve and nurture this relationship. He knew he'd treated Sam badly and wanted to make it up to him.

Then, Sam invited him to stay the night (or, rather, accepts bucky's self-invitation to sleep in his house), because he's nice and welcoming and generous yes sure. But also because he likes Bucky back, despite everything. They both want to be friends and partners.

That's not happening here. It's just Sam offering Bruce his home because he is apparently motivated by a desire to help random white men he meets.

It reminds me of the countless fics and hcs that write Sam exclusively as a caretaker and therapist for bucky or other white characters. It reminds me of the takes that rewrite canon to make him be the one to pursue bucky with a desire to help and nurture him - a thing that has never happened in canon. Urgh. Pin that thought up with the others.

Oh and of course, we can't have a story about samcap without paying tribute to our holy special boy steve for a bit. Whatever it was just a few overly long shots.. still annoyed me though. Wow I really am a hater.

Oh and Bruce is the one with the arc? He's the one the episode is about? But his change of heart happens entirely off screen and with no implicit turning point? Lol. Lmao even.

And "friends who accept us for who we really are." I want to take this entire writers room aside because no. You can't end with a thesis statement that wasn't the theme of the story. Go back to school.

Am I Nothing but Negativity?

It was nice to see sarah again! Shame all she got to do was scream then get violently shoved to the floor.

Ok but in general, once the episode gets started in earnest, it's fine.

I did genuinely like seeing Sam again. I like him in the lead, even if the episode was about Bruce, Sam was still the main character and that was fun to see.

Mackie's voice performance is strong.

I enjoyed the 0.0003 seconds of sambucky. I liked seeing Sam and Monica together.

"The man wants to have tea with Lenin." This line is so bad it's good again. Yeah he probably would. And he'd be fine. Vlad would love the guy, everyone does.

I like the visual of Sam facing down a giant kaiju and just chatting to it. That's very sam coded. That and Sam with the shot of the monsters walking past him and him standing strong.

What is the Point of this Show?

There's nothing spectacular in this episode. The dialogue is astoundingly predictable, the jokes fail to be funny.

At times, the animation style (much like TDP which recently finished) feels like it's holding them back. A lot of the quieter, less actiony, shots are ugly frames with people walking less naturally than sims do. And they do have some more expressive stuff in the busier scenes, so it's not artistically empty, but it's not doing a lot for me either.

Maybe it's an interesting technique for those who know more about these things, but honestly regular 2d animation would've been (i assume) cheaper and potentially better. Then again, if it wasn't visually distinctive, what else would it have going for it?

Conceptually, a mcu what if show is an amazing idea, but in practice IN MY VERY BIASED OPINION, it's done very little with that potential. The comics offer such a rich trough of ideas that could be spun into very entertaining short episodes with versions of the characters that would otherwise not be able to encounter those story beats. Hell, Sam in particular has an entire massive part of his character cut from the mcu (his powers) that they could explore... and that would be really well suited to animation!

But they've stuck to the comparatively shallow mcu lore for most of it.

I've seen people express disappointment that it's ending after only 3 short seasons and I see why. This is obviously the sort of thing that you could do so much more with. But I also feel that the writing is uninspired and betrays a real lack of interest in the worlds of most of these characters.

I Hate its Vibes

So let's take a look at those pins, shall we?

We have:

Ignoring Sam most of the time

Mischaracterising his relationship with Bucky

Writing him as a caregiver, a nurturing therapist only

A lack of an internal world and motivations beyond his desire to help others

Ignorance over his character's history including his powers and the depth and longevity of his relationship with steve

Nonsensical excuses when faced with criticism, unintentionally displaying even more ignorance and incuriosity over the character

I mentioned that writers comment about sharon earlier for a reason. The vibes are not good. They are rancid. They are reminding me of every dumb post I've ever read on this site. Every weird jab at the character for stupid, racist reasons. Every fic with the "magical negro" trope. Every moron i can think of tbh.

Yeah, so maybe I'm not being fair to this show. The episode was uninspired, but not bad. I liked seeing sam do things. If people gif him looking cool in it, I'll reblog it I guess. But I'm not gonna watch the rest of the show, and I won't mourn the fact that it's ending.

I guess my conclusion is that it's very funny that Marvel placated disgruntled sam fans with a still from this episode, and then when it finally comes out, it's everything we've ever complained about.

[luna-rainbow]

I've been reading through the posts and anons regarding Bucky's characterisation in FATWS and I couldn't agree more with your responses.

I think the deep dives and theories from some of the anons on how the writing for Bucky could be spun if we really wanted to are interesting and well intentioned but when I look at what was actually presented, I finished FATWS feeling like I was supposed to view Bucky as a reformed villain who was looking for redemption and that I was supposed to root for him now that he was on the right path and making choices to atone for his sins and make right for his life of crime ---and, considering Bucky was a victim, that did not sit right with me at all. I find it hard to believe that someone could have watched Bucky's story from the beginning and not rooted for him the whole way through.

I actually found the attempts to villainise him a disgusting narrative choice.

This was not an arc about a victim healing, it was an arc about an assassin looking for redemption.

So I think that even if the attempt was to show the shadiness of the government or to portray it as Bucky's misplaced guilt being the driving force, it ultimately doesn't matter because that's not how the narrative presented it. Bucky makes a lot of statements that signify his own feelings of guilt and low sense of self worth 'the power I gave her' 'I know crazy because I am crazy' the conversation he has with Sam about why he has to be the one to talk to Zemo--and none of these statements are shot down, not even by Sam who is supposed to be our hero and experienced PTSD therapist. In fact, Sam even encourages Bucky's negative self image at points with lines like 'even him, and he's killed everyone he's ever met' (which is why I'll also argue that Sam is mischaracterised in this show too)

That's because the narrative wants us to take Bucky's guilt at face value, they want us to see this as a matter fact and something that Bucky has to redeem himself from in order to reach his goal of feeling worthy and human again. They want Bucky's guilt to be a point both he and the audience agree on.

While the narrative leaves space for us to counter its perception of Bucky and his level (or lack) of responsibility for things that The Winter Soldier did--it does nothing to counter its own assumption that Bucky should be considered complicit in the things he was forced to do by Hydra.

We are told some form of this by everyone from Zemo to Sharon to Karli to Raynor to Isaiah to even Sam.

Even when Bucky finally breaks and openly admits that he's beginning to question Steve's faith in him, there is no response to counter his lack of self belief. Neither Sam nor Raynor argue the matter.

During the one moment that the writing could have explicitly made it clear that the narrative viewed Bucky as a victim of Hydra instead of the villian he believes himself to be, we got blank space instead. They could have expanded on the scene between him and Yori and used the father of one of The Winter Soldier's targets to make the point that Bucky was a victim too but instead, we got the implication that Yori was yet another person seeing him as the same monster that Bucky believes himself to be.

So when we take the writing as it actually is, we are left with Bucky believing he is responsible for the crimes that Hydra committed using The Winter Soldier. We are left with no one countering his belief, we are in fact left with both our protagonists and antagonists equally reinforcing Bucky's guilt and self-portrayal as a reforming villain and we are left with Bucky learning that he has to pay for what 'he' did by living in service of those 'he' hurt.

That is what the narrative tells us about Bucky Barnes in FATWS. That is what the character of Bucky Barnes tells us in FATWS, that is what the other characters tell us about Bucky Barnes in FATWS--and we have nothing within the narrative of FATWS that leads us to believe otherwise.

Hello lovely! I'm not sure how I missed this post although I did have a lot of personal stuff going on a few months ago and maybe I shelved it for a time I could reply properly, so apologies for the delay!

All excellent points up there.

Back during the height of the TFATWS discourse (mostly stemming from the fact that several of us were trying to write fix-its and just couldn't make the canon make sense), one of the key points of contention was between fans who felt the narrative fell short in addressing Bucky's lack of agency and therefore lack of liability for the Winter Soldier's crimes, vs other fans who felt Steve's one line in CACW "it wasn't your fault" was enough and hence his lack of agency did not need to be raised again in TFATWS.

But you are absolutely right. The narrative frames Bucky as guilty and volatile, and it does nothing to dispose the viewers otherwise. None of the characters treat him in a way that suggests any empathy for his status as a prisoner of war, only something bordering on derision that he's been spared punishment.

Which, I think, accurately reflects how most of the MCU writers have spoken of him.

[thebestofoneshots]

firstly, I absolutely adore your blog!! <3 ur so cool

secondly im curious to know- what marvel superhero would you assign to each of the marauders? I personally think sirius would love ironman, he’s so tony stark coded

AH, you're combining some of my favourite fandoms, babe! Which is why I might end up writing a way deeper analysis than I need to lol. But let's go through it one by one.

My darling James, the golden boy of his era, he is 100% Captain America. He is hell-bent on protecting those he loves, and he would do anything for them. Also, he's been in love with one girl for all of his life. It's just so fitting for him, I feel?

But also, I feel like James could also be a great Spiderman (and that is probably his favourite superhero), especially younger James, with his charm and charisma and how he is loved and cherished by his people. Also, he is totally in love with a redhead.

Remus Lupin is a complicated one. You know, I feel like Hulk is quite fitting, since you know he gets angry and turns into a green monster, which kind of relates to Rem in a deeper level. Having said that, I think his superhero would be Moon Knight and I'm ready to diе on this grave.

Hear me out, it's about the deep-held emotional trauma and the way Steven and Jake came into existence to protect Mark, he would absolutely love, love Moon Knight, especially the Disney+ version of him. There's also the lack of control the multiple personalities entail (which is very much like Remus' turning into Moony) and the moon theme. Besides, Rem would totally have a mini crush on Oscar Isaac.

And for Sirius, I agree, he is definitely Iron Man coded and would love Tony, I mean it's in the daddy issues they share with each other, the family background, the rich kid persona and all that. But I also think Sirius would love, and I mean LOVE Peter Quill (StarLord).

StarLord also has family issues, but he grew to become an absolutely charming character, sharing his love for beings with Sirius (aka they're both a little bit of heartbreakers) and he is super funny, which I feel Sirius would love. They both love music, and Sirius would praise Starlord's taste every single day of the week. Something else Siri would love about StarLord is his found family. He met the Guardians of the Galaxy and they all adopted each other, in the same way, Sirius adopted and was adopted by James and Remus.

Reggie is Bucky Barnes (and this is one of my favourite Marvel characters). Bucky was brainwashed and tortured by Hydra, in pretty much the same way Reggie was by his family. He shared that traumatic past and his absolute desire to be better, and to improve, he doesn't want to be a deatheater anymore and he fights for what's good. Also, if he is Bucky and James is Cap, we can have a bit of Starchaser hehe.

Lily loves Spiderman, and not because James does, nah, Lily has been a fan since she was a kid, she loves his sense of justice and how he fights for what's good. Spiderman's motto "With great power, comes great responsibility" is literally Lily's bible.

Marlene is into Black Window, and not only bc she has a massive crush on her, but because she thinks she is the most badass character in the entire fucking Marvel universe, no joke. She can stand against beasts three times her size, and fight alongside the most powerful superheroes on earth by being just a human woman? She is INCREDIBLE!

Mary gives me Vision vibes, I'm not sure why, but I totally see her reading Vision fanfiction and writing some too.

Barty is a Loki kid, you cannot change my mind. I mean, forgotten and neglected child who has to be exceptionally good at everything to get the attention from his dad? He becomes evil bc he thinks it's the only way he'll get Odin to see him? This to me screams Barty, and he would love Loki.

And lastly, I think Evan likes Quick Silver. Firstly, he thinks he's super hot, but he also loved his relationship with his sister, and he loves Pietro's charm. There's just something about him that he can't stop thinking about. I also feel he would like Mystique, but that's due to her complicated past, and her ability to become anything anyone she wants. He feels it would be so freeing to do that.

PS. Didn't I say I'd go crazy with this analysis? Aaaah I'm such a nerd...

[therealslimshakespeare]

hey so me again cause it's still lam, with more 2 cents so i guess it's 4 now? i don't fully know how the tumblr algorithm works so if my messages aren't back to back then that didn't make sense so just ignore it

anyways with the new chapter out i just had more to say about another very beloved character; ida brady

so i did reread several chapters and came across this

It's better than that whole 'major' business; getting called Major as if that meant shit anymore.

and honestly i don't know if it's meant in the way that bucky just feels like in a place where everything has gone to shit, rank doesn't feel all that important anymore, atleast to him, but i for one interpret as that, so correct me if i'm wrong

but that's just the point, to *him* it feels like that

wether that's just him as a person, or far more interesting: his perspective as a man

it's briefly hinted, even if so in a slightly different context (being a red blooded American male, he regretted that dismal change.) that the different perspective does change a lot, well of course it does cause these women went through hell and back, not just because they were women, but because they were female officers at that

and that brings me to ida, cause i believe if you were to ask her, her rank, at least in the stalag, even if it was mocked and disregarded, was as holy to her as those wing patches

she worked for that rank, for the respect that came with it

and then being exposed to the dehumanisation that came with it too when she was downed

and now to the new chapter (her finally telling, or more showing rosie what was done to her broke and healed me at the same time

i think the whole chapter shows again that people as a whole aren't evil, how could they be? we're humans after all and that is something she seeks out to prove in the memory of her lost daughter

and it's different cause she was actively fighting in a war that took so many people, so many civilians who had little to no part in anything at all, much less even knowledge about the horrors that perspired

it's like the conversation rosie has with crosby, it's hard to feel like you're not becoming a monster when fighting against one

and now ida is dealing with that right in the middle of it, dealing with seeking the worst in people all day when she actually is looking for the good, the human

but that chapter was a change of perspective, not just for her, going from bombing the very city she now resides in but a change of perspective for me, as someone who is german and lives here too

and growing up here we learn, we learn to take responsibility in a way that doesn't give several generations the fault for something that they weren't even alive for when it happened but the knowledge to prevent it from happening again and dealing with the guilt that in so many i think still lingers, it certainly lingers in me

i like how you portray all of it, because i think a lot of people like to overlook it: after ww2, germany was absolutely destroyed to the very bone in many parts of the country

i mean my grandma told me stories about bombers flying over her head when she walked home from school and how the soldiers who came through the country after the war acted just like you portrayed it with the neighbours wife and the russians

okay at the end i rambled a bit about personal stuff, or no not personal experience but stories from my own family

and i'm not fully sure if you're interested in insights like that but oh well, thought i'd type out my thoughts

Middle of the night love notes just hit different,🥰and I appreciate you so much for sending in your thoughts and feelings on the last segment, thank you so so so much! I’m immensely invested in all personal stories and I’ve had such a broad range of readers take interest in this story, I will always treasure your insights! Thank you for sharing!!

Xx

[wnterslder]

💗 + frenchie keeps thinking about the way that people are made up of other people and wants to know if one or two bad people make up a person if that means they are only bad.

what does it mean to be human ? what types of behaviors and actions lead someone to becoming a good or bad person ? it's a life-long question , and she ponders quietly to herself over a steaming kettle. preparation of coffee — freshly ground , of the same one frenchie may have seen in bucky's apartment — spares the old woman a few more moments to formulate a response , however vague :

“ only if they allow it , “ she won't assume the connection whether or not frenchie is meaning to talk about himself or another person , or is simply asking out of curiosity. she pushes the fragrant cup towards the opposite end of the round table , along with the small glass container of sugar and a carton of milk. all laid askew for the other to take or not. it's a homely array , casual even , to indicate some expectancy of respect in a woman's humble home. “ what someone chooses to do with the bad experiences , and bad people ... i think it's what happens after is what makes them good or bad , don't you think ? i'd like to surround myself with good people , and even still ... i am not defined by just them. “

now , with gaze upon the other , she shifts the conversation over to him. “ i sense you are a good man , frenchie. you decide what you take from these experiences. “ a beat. “ if you must think , then at least stay for dinner. i would like your help. “

hear from mama sonia !

[legalandnotease]

You CANNOT pretend you're defending Sam Wilson while also pretending that he did anything hurtful to Bucky. He DIDN'T. Bucky's hurt has many sources, and Sam wasn't responsible for a single one of them.

So basically, Sam can do no wrong ever.

Literally, you say you want people to treat Sam was a well-rounded human but here's the thing: if you're not prepared to allow Sam any flaws then--- he's not a well rounded human.

He's a Mary Sue. He's perfect: and nobody is perfect.

You cannot have it both ways. Sam cannot be both complex, realistic, and infallible or incapable of wrongdoing at the same time.

Like I'm always saying to Tony fans: for fuck's sake, let him have flaws. Let him be wrong. Let him fuck up. Let him admit he's fucked up. Let him learn from it.

Don't act like he's your singular precious angel and cry about any criticism of Sam whilst still insisting he's a complex character.

He DIDN'T. Bucky's hurt has many sources, and Sam wasn't responsible for a single one of them.

Now. we're being and candid here. Sam is responsible for a least some Bucky's hurt. He wanted him dead in Winter Soldier and wouldn't have much cared if it happened in Civil War.

Steve bears responsibility as well, since he abandoned him: but unlike Sam Bucky (allegedly) isn't entitled to his feelings of grief and loneliness. Let alone allowed to express them. He's not allowed any feelings in fact, but I digress.

Sam spends the entirety of Falcon and the Winter Soldier being a bitch to Bucky. Taunting him, mocking him, dismissing his feelings.

Like the famous attempt to "reach out" to Bucky that Sam fans are so fond of mentioning? Anthony Mackie said those texts were asking Bucky who he'd killed today. They weren't reaching out. They were *taunting* him. They may have been Sam's idea of a joke, but he recipient didn't find them funny.

Unlike Bucky, Sam has a support network and friends. Sam is the only person Bucky knows, and he's only reaching out from a sense of obligation. Not friendship. Sam by turns gaslights and him and victim-blames Bucky. He even mocks him on the basis of the brain damage that HYDRA inflicted and calls him a "freak" on the basis of what his abusers did, which is utterly vile.

The only reason Bucky is made to apologize is because the writers, like fans, can't allow Sam to admit he's wrong. They can't have him apologizing because its seen as demeaning.

So we're expected to either ignore Sam's behavior or condone and excuse it because "he's having a hard time". The very thing which they say is no excuse for Bucky's behavior. Yet it suddenly becomes one for Sam in a ludicrous double standard.

Rather like how "brainwashing isn't an excuse" until Tony Stark does something bad, or mental health isn't an excuse until Stark builds a murderbot.

Media literacy is dead bcs people can somehow justify all the ways Bucky is hurting in that therapist scene but not Sam's

They can point out all the things Sam did that hurt Bucky but not how Bucky was to Sam.

They were both being shit to each other to a certain extent, grieving and trying to move on, but all they see is how the white attractive boy is hurting and not Samuel.

Sam also lost Steve, a partner, someone he trusted for years. His relationship with Steve runs as deep as Steve with Bucky.

[bucky-bucket-barnes]

bucky bitchass barnes to the rescue

Summary: In an attempt to escape from hectic life as an Avenger, you decided to go out on a date. Unfortunately, you got stood up. While Bucky hates you, he hates seeing you embarrassed more and decides to fill in for your M.I.A. date.

Pairing: enemies to lovers bucky barnes x avenger!reader

Warnings: embarrassed reader, swearing, arguments, fluff

Word Count: 2.7k words

~

“Sam, you have to tell him he can’t go.”

“I can’t control where that man decides to eat.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Won’t. It’s a whole restaurant, trust me, he won’t bother you and your little boyfriend.”

Out of all the restaurants in the world and all the days to go, Bucky Bitchass Barnes just had to be going to the same one as you and your date. It didn’t matter that he wouldn’t bother you, just his very presence existing in the same space as you was enough to strike a nerve.

You had been an Avenger for the past five years, only knowing Barnes for the past couple of months. Dating hasn't ever really been a priority in your life. Well, not since you discovered your powers six years ago. Getting into a heated argument would cause a tornado until you calmed down. Being too happy caused flowers to bloom up around you, forcing themselves everywhere, whether dirt or concrete. Even just watching a sad movie caused any sunny day to immediately transform into hours of downpour. You had learned to control your abilities in a fight, but you still lacked a grasp on them when you were emotional.

Dating seemed nice, but the issue with relationships is that they stirred up a lot of, well, emotions. They’ve always seemed risky, but you felt like this time you were really ready. His name was Justin. He was a quirky little intern that worked for Tony. He took an immediate fascination towards you and your abilities. He was a charmer for sure and asked you out on a date after your third conversation. I deserve this, you encouraged yourself after you said yes.

The day was here and you were going to enjoy this date damnit. You deserved a normal life too. But hell was it hard to ignore the fact that Bucky was going to be there.

“Hey, have a good time for me then. And if he tries to pull anything, tell Justin that whatever he does to you, I’m doing to him,” Sam teases. You let out a comical huff in response. Sam always knew what to say.

You went to finish getting ready and on your way to your room, you bumped into Bucky. Rather, you were minding your business and the super-soldier shouldered you as you walked down the hall.

“Watch it,” you mumbled.

“Or what? Your boyfriend’s gonna give me a stern talking to?” he mocked, turning around to face you.

You sighed, turning to face Bucky as well. “Listen, I know we don’t get along, which is perfectly fine with me, but this date means a lot to me and I am going to ask that you let me enjoy this.” You hated the feeling of asking Bucky to be nice to you. It felt beneath you to ask for a man’s kindness.

“You won’t even know I’m there,” he promised.

“Good.”

“Good.”

You began to advance towards your room again. You were abruptly stopped by a cool metal hand lightly holding onto your wrist. With a sense of confusion, you turned to the large man behind you.

“I hope you have a good time. . .I mean it. You look wonderful by the way,” he offers, with a look of sincerity. Glancing down at his hand on your wrist, he pulls it away awkwardly.

“Thank you,” you replied, suspicious of the man’s intentions. There didn’t appear to be a trace of mockery in his tone or a mark of jest anywhere on his face. That’s odd.

You arrived at the grand restaurant and took your seat. The walls were lined with a velvet red color, embellished with gold patterns all over. It was a new place, but there were many faces already crowding around in the large room. The food around you smelled irresistible and you couldn’t help but sigh with content. You peered out by the window beside you, admiring the dusk’s gentle weather. Eyes scanning the restaurant, you only saw one person sitting alone at the bar. Of course Bucky would make plans to go to a fancy restaurant to just sit at the bar. That’s stupid, he can’t even get drunk.

Fifteen minutes had slowly crept by. Unconsciously, you checked at your phone, hoping for a text from Justin. At the twenty-minute mark, you texted him politely asking him where he was. The waiter had circled around twice asking for your order, each time you declined saying your date would be here soon. Once the thirty-five-minute mark hit, you could feel eyes driving into the back of your head. In an attempt to salvage some of your dignity, you avoided them, keeping your focus locked onto the glass of water in front of you. You had texted Justin three more times asking if everything was alright. He’d never gotten back. At that point, you weren’t sure if it was better to just get up and leave, or enjoy dinner by yourself. A few people had started taking pictures by now. Not only were you being stood up, but now every tabloid would be talking about it. Great.

In spite of yourself, you look over to see if Bucky was still sitting at the bar. He was and was looking right back at you. Even though sunglasses covered his eyes, you knew he was giving you a look of pity. What asshole wears glasses inside. It made your stomach flip. Today had been a long day and the last thing you wanted was sympathy from him. You looked back down at your table’s untouched breadbasket in shame. Out of your peripheral, you could see his figure let out a sigh and move from the bar to outside the restaurant.

In a strange way, you were kind of sad to see him leave. You hadn’t wanted him there at first, but once you realized your date wasn’t coming, you took an off comfort in his presence. It wasn’t until he left that you began to feel really isolated. As your sadness progressed, fog began to settle outside. It was becoming difficult to make out the bright pastels that painted the sky. Damnit. At least it’s not raining.

Due to your loss of appetite, you decided it would be best to go home. As you quietly began to collect your belongings, from behind you a voice apologized loudly, “Sorry I’m late, you won’t believe what a bitch traffic is this time of night.”

That voice was unmistakable. To your surprise, you looked up to see Bucky taking a seat across from you, offering you an apologetic smile. You didn’t need to look to see that people were staring. Bucky had ditched his glasses, hat, and leather jacket before he had decided to come over. He had scrapped his weak attempt to conceal his identity while out. That metal arm was unmistakable. People would know you were on a date with Bucky.

“Oh, that’s alright. I got here early to make sure we got a seat,” you answered, matching his volume. As eyes began to turn away from the two of you and back to their own tables you aggressively whispered, “What the hell are you doing, James?”

“Being a good person,” he whispered in reply, giving a fake smile before looking at his menu.

“I don’t need your pity. I can handle this, go home.”

Ignoring you, he asked, “What are you gonna order?”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I can order for you-”

“Why do you give a shit about me all of a sudden?” you snapped, still keeping your voice quiet as not to draw attention. There had to be an ulterior motive, there had to be an end goal here. You refused to accept that he came over out of the kindness of his heart.

“What’s your problem with me?” he retorted, placing his menu down with a loud thud. People began to look again. Quickly, you took one of Bucky’s hands in your own, giving a fake laugh.

“Buck, you’re so funny.” He immediately caught on and answered with a fake chuckle in return. You two never got along, but to the public’s knowledge, all was fine between you. You intended on keeping that facade up as long as you could, it just made life easier.

When the wandering eyes diverted their attention and finished snapping a few photos, Bucky returned to his previous point. “No, let’s talk about this. What’s your problem with me?”

“I’m not the one with the problem,” you snapped. Dark clouds began to form outside, the wind gradually beginning to bend the trees. You were beginning to become frustrated. The last thing you wanted to do was hash it out with Bucky in the middle of a crowded public area.

“Then what’s my problem?” he questions, confusion and hurt on his face.

Without thinking you sneer, “You know what the problem is? Steve was my friend. After I discovered my powers, nobody wanted me around. I can’t turn them off like the rest of you can. They follow me everywhere, they affect everything I do. If I don’t remain neutral at all times, shit hits the fan. I scared everyone by just having feelings. I was originally supposed to just stay-” you swallowed, forcing back tears. “I was just supposed to stay sedated. Drugged up forever. I can’t accidentally cause a tsunami if I can’t feel anything,” you laughed in spite of yourself. “Steve fought for me, though. He was the only one who fought for me. He didn’t even know me and he still fought for me. I didn’t feel like I deserved his kindness. We became close. He was my best friend.”

Bucky listened intently, his eyebrows forming into a sorrowful expression. His face softened, he didn’t seem angry anymore. He knew what it was like to only have Steve in your corner.

“Then, you came along. He spent all his time on you.” The wind was now howling outside, bolts of lighting pounding the earth, echoing your pain. “Then he left. He went back and didn’t bother saying goodbye to me. He was just gone. I didn’t even get to spend his last few months with him. Bucky, I was a placeholder for you. Steve died thinking I was second best to you.” Your voice trembled as you finished in anguish.

It had started pouring outside, rain violently crashing into the window next to you. You could feel your face grow hot as you went on. You expected Bucky to yell at you, snap back. Honestly, it felt warranted at that point. You hadn’t meant to come off as so biting. Months of holding this all back had come rushing out your mouth all in one night and you couldn’t help but feel guilty. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He needed the help, you knew he did, but you needed Steve too.

“Steve didn’t think you were second best to me,” he spoke, breaking the silence that hung over you two. “He really loved you, Y/N. He talked about you a lot. If it’s any solace, he cared a lot about you. He thought you had grown out of needing his help. You seemed to have it all together.”

“I guess he was wrong,” you sniffled, wiping away the tears that formed in your eyes. “Ja- Bucky. I’m sorry. I’ve been an ass. He was your friend too. I guess I just didn’t want to share.”

“I’m sorry for being an ass too. Steve would have wanted us to get along.” You hadn’t even noticed that he had taken your hand into his, slowly rubbing his thumb along your fingers. It was a very comforting feeling.

“If you’re up for it, we can order dinner and maybe watch a movie? I know this isn’t the date you pictured, but-”

“I’d love to,” you responded. The clouds parted like a curtain, revealing a night sky of dazzling stars. The wind calmed itself into a gentle breeze.

This was by no means the night you had expected, but you were excited nonetheless. You and Bucky had ordered and began bantering back and forth. Talking to Bucky made you realize you had much more in common than you had imagined. All went unexpectedly well until someone interrupted you.

“Y/N, that was incredible!” Justin applauded, walking up to your table. You met his excitement with a bewildered look. You had almost forgotten you had been stood up earlier that night. Almost

“Is this Justin?” Bucky huffed, jaw locking in anger.

Taking out a business card, he handed it to Bucky (who promptly threw it behind him) and explained, “Oh, I was Y/N’s date. I’m sure you’re more than aware of her power to control the elements not only aids in battle, but seeps into her personal life. I had heard your emotional state affected the weather near you, but what just happened was astonishing. Just by being late to a date, I caused you to create a store that spanned a twenty-mile radius. That is just absolutely-”

Before Justin could finish gushing over his little experiment, Bucky stood up and threatened in a low voice, “I suggest you leave her alone before I make you. Y/N’s not your little experiment. Pull this shit with her again, and you’re going to watch as I rip you limb from limb. You’re gonna wish you had gotten caught in that storm. Got it?”

The awkward intern was dwindled by Bucky’s mere presence. He looked quite pathetic next to the blue-eyed man, almost like a child who had just been scolded. Without a word, he turned around and left, face white with fear.

“You didn’t have to do that, Bucky,” you said, unable to hold back the smile on your face. It felt good to see that jerk get the crap scared out of him.

Sipping his water, he coolly answered, “I wanted to.”

Lifting up your water glass, you offered, “To a new friendship?”

Bucky clinked your glass to his repeating, “To a new friendship.”

Setting his glass down, he leaned in and flirted, “But how about next time I treat you to a real date, gorgeous.”

Red fills up your cheeks. You bite your lip mindlessly and nod in agreement. The date carried on and Bucky and you went back and forth for hours. You giggled, you teased, and you both enjoyed yourselves. Part of you had wished you had given the handsome Avenger a chance earlier when you had met, he was enjoyable company to keep. The bond you made was instantaneous, it felt like you had been close for ages.

By the time you two returned to the Compound, you tiptoed to Bucky’s room, giggling at your little secret. His hand in yours you decided to take the stairs to draw less attention. You made a quick pit stop to the kitchen, grabbing snacks from the cabinets. As you two argued whether to bring raw cookie dough or actual cookies to the room, a sleepy Sam walked in.

Rubbing his eyes in deep confusion he murmured, “Has hell frozen over yet, or am I still dreaming?”

Without missing a beat, Bucky’s face turned very solemn and he responded, “This is a dream, Sam. Also, you owe Bucky twenty dollars. Go back to your bed now.”

You place your hand over your mouth in a weak attempt to stop yourself from bursting out laughing. Sam shrugs and walks back to his room as Bucky and you run to his room, hands filled with all sorts of junk food to watch a movie.

You two cuddled up on his bed as he turned on the movie, you leaning softly into his chest, feeling it rise and fall as he breathed in and out. He dotingly cooed into your hair, “You should get stood up on dates more often.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

Nuzzling deeper into his chest and wrapping his arm around yourself, you respond “Yeah, maybe I should.”

You both had fallen asleep before the movie was halfway over, basking in the warmth the other had provided. For the first time in a long time, you began to have this bubbly feeling that you weren’t alone anymore. As Bucky held you in your sleep, a new sense of peace washed over him. This was his happy place.

~

A/N : I was in an enemy to lovers mood, but I always feel like the Bucky is too aggressive in these fics, so here's my take! All constructive criticism is really appreciated and I am open to requests. Thank you for reading :)

My masterlist

[parkersbliss]

My Girl | B. Barnes

pairing: (tfatws) bucky barnes x female!reader, slight SLIGHT john walker x reader

warnings: no-no words, john walker, tfatws spoilers?

wc; 800ish

synopsis: first he takes the shield, and then tries to take you? not on bucky’s watch

a/n: oh man have I missed writing for bucky

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

—

“John!” You exclaim, hopping into the vehicle and giving him a brief hug. “Wow, look at you!”

He laughs, stepping back, showing off his new uniform. “It’s different, isn’t it?”

You nod, mouth open. “Yeah, really.”

“You guys know each other?” Bucky asked, taking a hesitant seat.

“Yeah, we went to high school together. We went to prom together one year.”

Walker chuckles, “Yeah, it was a fun time.”

You force a laugh. “Maybe for you, I remember that night very differently.”

Walker shrugs, and Bucky doesn’t read the slight tension between you. He’s too busy keeping himself in check, his jaw tightening at your friendly interaction. This was the guy replacing Steve.

How could you like him?

He was never going to amount to the kind of person Steve was, not even half.

But here you were treating him like he was.

“(L/N), you went to prom with this guy?” Sam asked, the same disproving expression on his face.

You give a tight-lipped smile, “Yeah, high school prom. Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?” He said, giving you a cheeky smile.

You roll your eyes at the two boys, sitting back next to Bucky and across from Walker.

You were well aware of the strong distaste towards Walker, and honestly, you don’t blame them. Even you were still slightly bitter about it.

But Walker had been your friend, Sam and Bucky would give him enough shit anyway, might as well be the nice guy.

Though, if you had the chance, you would gladly snatch the shield from his hands. Walker was a good person, as far as you could remember. But the only person worthy of that shield was Steve. You knew that.

But until Walker does something unworthy of it, the shield belongs to him.

“How’d you end up here?” Walker asked, gesturing between you and the boys. Clearly, he’s only talking to you.

“What do you mean?”

“How’d you end up working with them? I mean, don’t get me wrong. Mad respect for you both, but I just think you’d be more helpful with me. Clearly, we won’t be working together.”

Your lips part unsure if that was an insult directed at Bucky and Sam, and if you should give some sort of snarky response.

“My first priority is them, John.”

The said boy holds his hand up in defense. He can sense the accusatory tone in your voice. He really doesn’t want to piss you off of all people. He needs you on his side, not theirs. “Right, sorry, (N/N). I should’ve known.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow at the use of the nickname. His hands are clenched together as he resists the urge to slap the smirk off of Walker’s face. Bucky could care less about your past with him. If given the chance, he would gladly shove that shield down his throat.

Walker was the enemy, no questions about it.

“You look great by the way,” Walker smiled. “I don’t think I said that earlier. Just as beautiful as prom day.”

Before you get a chance to reply (not that you had one, you were debating between telling him to be professional or a simple thank you), Bucky grabs your arm.

“That’s it, we’re leaving,” He said as the driver stops the vehicle so the heroes can jump out.

“It was just a compliment!” Walker called out, laughing to himself. “I’ll see you around!”

Bucky shakes his head, sending Walker a death glare. “No, you won’t.”

Walker quirks an eyebrow at the ex-assassin, but then the vehicle starts up again, and he’s gone.

As soon as he is, you shake yourself from Bucky’s grip, eyeing him up and down. “What the hell was that?”

Sam stays silent, trying to hide the grin on his face as he knows what’s about to come.

“That was fucking Walker flirting with you!”

“Bucky-”

“No, okay, listen to me, he doesn’t get to prance in here all Captain America thinking he can save the day and take my girl.”

Sam chokes, coughing loudly to cover it up. He repeatedly hits his chest, looking away.

Once he’s done, you look to Bucky, eyebrows raised. “My girl?”

Bucky smacks his lips together, rubbing his chin. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant,” He sighs, “I don’t know. Walker just gets on my nerves. If you like him, that’s fine, and it’s not my place to intervene.”

You scoff, a smile spreading across your lips. “I don’t give a damn about Walker. There’s only one person that has my heart anyway.”

Bucky’s lips quirk up into a smile. The action is so minimal you almost miss it. “You’re talking about me, right?”

You shrug, “I only see one jealous super soldier boyfriend.”

“I wasn't jealous!” Bucky huffs.

“Right,” You said, rolling your eyes before smirking. “You’re not denying the second part.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” Bucky whispers, the air around you growing thicker as he takes a small, tentative step towards you.

“Oh my god!” Sam shouts, throwing his hands up in the air. “Just kiss already and agree to a date. Some of us have a life to get to.”

Bucky chuckles at Sam, but he listens and grabs your face between his hands before kissing you softly.

You smile into the kiss, grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck and pulling him closer.

“For the record,” You said when he pulled away. “The night ended horribly with Walker because he tried to kiss me.”

“That asshole-”

— END —

tagged: @yodaboo​

[shurisneakers]

harmless (i)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, nonsense writing

Word count: 1.5k 

A/N: listen i just needed something to keep my mind busy and a perry the platypus!bucky and dr. doofenshmirtz!reader was the only thing i could think of. dont have any high expectations from this series, you will be sorely disappointed.

If you have any ideas for this series, lemme know!! it’d be cute to write!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Series Masterlist

Bucky Barnes, for all intents and purposes, is edgy. 

His SHIELD salary is definitely enough to afford him a simple beanie, gloves even if he’s that eager. His long hair, though a spectacle in itself, isn’t as good at keeping away the cold as he claims it to be. 

It’s a personal choice, a fashion statement even, to be roaming the streets in a long flimsy t-shirt that does nothing to accentuate his broad shoulders, and tactical pants that look a little too comfortable. 

It’s cold. He says he likes it, to appease his blond haired best friend who insisted that he wear a cardigan at least. He won’t like it in a while, but he would never admit it.

The bike ride to the other side of town for a minor mission takes longer than he expected. The wind rushing by gets his adrenaline racing. 

Official missions are long and gruelling, and oftentimes not fun. But it gives him a purpose.

It’s easy, therefore, to find him brooding when he’s not on one. 

No one wants their room to be on the receiving end of Bucky’s stress-cleaning sessions. His baking is more appreciated.

So when there’s news of a small time villain creating havoc again, it made sense that he volunteered to go sort it out. No one else wanted the job. They’d all been at it before. 

SHIELD didn’t seem particularly bothered either. 

“It’s not that serious, Barnes.”

“I’m going.”

“Just stop her from doing whatever dumb plan she has today. She seems to have a new one every week.”

“Can I-”

“This is not an assassination mission.”

“Fine. Can I-”

“No.”

“Fine.”

He didn’t know what to expect. He had an idea of how they should be. Smaller villains tended to be more aggressive, vicious to prove their point. They were here to stay.

He wears his regular gear. Enough knives to make a butcher look away in shame, and guns including, but not limited to, his biceps.

He finally pulls the bike to a stop a few metres away, leaving it out of reach in case things got too out of hand. He didn’t want to have to walk back to the Tower, and his friends, as much as they loved him, would never go out of their way to pick him up. Little shits. 

The address is a dingy, plain concrete house near an old construction site. It was flat and felt more like an afterthought than an actual building. It looked more like an abandoned Walmart than an actual villain lair. 

The only entrance is the door in the front. He counts to three, lifting his leg to kick it down.

It falls down ungracefully, loud and creaky like it was bound to the doorframe by rust. 

The only light source inside is a green light. All the way at the other end on an elevated platform is a desk and a chair facing away from him. He can’t see much other than that.

Someone’s laughter comes back loud and booming. He raises his gun, feet apart in a defensive stance. 

“I’ve been expecti-” the voice pauses mid-sentence- “Did you just kick down my door?”

He looks behind him to where the wooden piece is on the floor. He certainly did.

He can finally see you as you stand up, green light illuminating your face. You reach over to the side, pressing a few switches. 

He squints when all the lights turn on, pulling the both of you from darkness. 

“Dude!” you cry out, face twisting into what only could be described as a mix of horror and disdain. “What’d you do that for?”

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t lower his gun either.

“You’re an Avenger, just fuckin’ pick the lock or something. This is expensive!” 

He only watches as you whine, looking beyond him at your now demolished entrance. You take a few steps closer, jumping down from the elevated platform.

“Insurance isn’t going to cover this.” You drag your palm across your fist before extending it towards him. “Pay up.”

He wasn’t sure if he heard you right.

“What?” he finally asked, voice gruff.

“All you superheroes go around, destroying walls and cars in the name of world peace like you own the damn thing. Not today, bitch boy. Pay up.”

He doesn’t have his wallet with him. He didn’t expect to need it.

“I’m supposed to be stopping you.” 

“You can do that once you pay for my door.” 

You sound resolute, unshaken. A little annoyed. There’s what appears to be a gun in your hand, although it’s unlike any weapon he’s seen before.

“What’s your plan?” Bucky looks at your hand. Your stare follows his. You lift the thing up and he tenses.

“I was going to freeze some jerk but now my plan is to get you cancelled on Twitter.” 

“Why?” his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Local superhero destroys property of tax paying citizen for no good reason.”

“I mean-” he shakes his head, discarding what you’re saying, “-why were you going to freeze someone?”

“Because I wanted to. But you’ve ruined the mood now, so that won’t happen.”

He blinks, lowering his weapon when he realises you weren’t making any attempt to move. “What’s your ulterior motive?”

“Nothing! I just wanted to mildly inconvenience that stupid fuck for being such a prick.”

He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Is that the freeze ray?” Bucky asks instead, raising his gun when he realises there’s a very real chance he could end up like his best friend. 

“You got a problem with it?” You hold it up carelessly. 

“I can’t let you use that.”

“That’s all you’re going to do?” you huff, “Is this what you call an intervention? This is so boring.”

“Give me the freeze ray and no one has to get hurt.” 

“No one was going to get hurt in the first place, genius. All this does is slow him down for 5 minutes so he misses the subway.”

There’s nothing technically that evil about what you’re doing. He doesn’t even know how you ended up on SHIELD’s radar. He gets why no one was particularly driven to take this seriously.

“And for fuck’s sake put that gun away. You’re not scaring me.” 

He doesn’t oblige, even though something tugs at him, telling him that you’re speaking the truth. 

“Here, take the stupid thing.” You don’t bother waiting for his response, bending over and sliding the gun towards his feet. “I’ll find another way to get back at that dickhead.”

It hits his boot with a small thud. He looks down. Its design is ridiculously comical, like you ripped it straight out of a kid’s TV show. 

“Next time, bring some drama. Wear a cape or something.” You wave him off. “Now get out of my lair. I need to fix the door.”

“You don’t have another one of these lying around, do you?”

“Why, do your friends want one too?” The glare you give him is dangerous. He doesn’t react to it. “No, it’s limited edition. I don’t build the same thing twice.”

“You have others?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” A smile grows on your face, dropping as quickly as it arrives. “SHIELD will tell you if I do. Now leave.”

Bucky looks at the freeze ray in his hand. He supposes his job is done. He was told to stop you, but you didn’t seem to have any inclination to go on with your plan.

“You can ask them if you want, they know about me.” You roll your eyes. “Go ahead, call them.”

He doesn’t want to take a chance. As odd as the situation is, it’s still novel and he isn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

He tucks your weapon under his arm, pressing his phone to his ear.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” Maria’s voice is crisp as ever.

“I confiscated a... freeze ray.” He feels ridiculous even saying it. “But I’m going to bring her in to SHIELD headquarter-”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“But we can’t trust-”

“We’ve been keeping tabs on her for a while. She’s more or less harmless. You can take the rest of the night off, Sergeant.”

He cuts the call, not entirely at ease with the smug, expectant look on your face. 

Still, he couldn’t disobey direct orders.

“I’m gonna... go.” He mentions towards the gaping hole in the wall.

“That would be ideal, yes.” You nod, crossing your arm over your chest.

“Okay.” He hesitates, but finally takes a step backwards. He peeks over his shoulder as he leaves, but finds you swivelled away from him again. 

He steps back outside. The cold greets him again like an old friend. The weight of his weapons feels stupidly embarrassing now. 

It’s a long drive back to the Tower. He keeps replaying the entire story in his mind. He’s unsure of whether he made the right call, but no one else really seemed to care. 

He had seen weirder things. It came with the gig.

He leaves it at that.

“How’d it go?” Steve asks him when he walks into the living room.

“T’was fine,” he answers, toying with the stupid device he took from you. Maybe he would test it on Clint. He had been getting annoying lately. Breathing too much in Bucky’s general direction.

A part of him feels guilty for his carelessness towards your building. The other part is just bewildered. 

That night he looks up the cost it takes to replace a door, making a mental note to draw some money from the ATM soon.

Next part

[youngbugandtonystank]

I don't really try to over think things in the MCU because it is fictional but, it did not really made sense when everyone in the world turned on Peter when he was accused of killing mysterio and being spider man. But when Wanda mind controlled an entire town nobody did a thing. And it is highly unlikely that no one from Westview did anything about it. I don't know what they could have done but there must be some people who wanted justice I guess.

It just does not seem fair that Peter suffered while Wanda got off without consequences.

Btw I love your blog!

And you know it's about to get worse in MoM. I just knooow they will try to justify her actions there too lmao and I kinda know (or have the feeling) how they'll do it, this could go two ways: 1. they're going to say it is her destiny as the Scarlet Witch to get corrupted and mind-controlled by the multiverse darkness and that's why she did the things she did: ‘It's your destiny to destroy the world!’ 

And then the 'Poor Wanda, brainwashed like Bucky all of her life, now Tonky stans need to shut up' hahahahahah 

But, I'll argue that every single thing she did was by her own volition and she actively participated in those decisions without taking full responsibility for them. In fact, Wanda believes everyone gets away with stuff and instead of thinking along the lines of a good person with moral psychology, she firmly thinks she should be able to do it too and not get repercussions for it ‘you break the rules and become a hero, I do it and I become the enemy’. The amount of cringe I’ve gotten from some of yall claiming this equals to Taylor Swift’s quote of ‘A man does something, it's strategic, a woman does the same, it's calculated. A man is allowed to react, a woman can only over-react’ YALL TAYLOR NEVER ENSLAVED AN ENTIRE TOWN, NEVER KILLED ANYONE OR COMMITTED SERIOUS CRIMES this why her quote works, because she’s an actual good person hahahaahahhasdfgh tf is wrong with yall

Monica tells Wanda that the people she mentally tortured and enslaved for months will never know what she (wanda) sacrificed for them and Wanda actually NODS at this LMAOOOO the writers were on crack in this part. This means she believes she didn't do anything wrong. Just because someone else did it doesn't give you the right to do it too, if you're a good person (given this is how they want to portray Wanda, as this poor innocent girl) then you'll learn from their mistakes (Tony, Strange, Natasha, etc) and become a better version yourself.

Wanda is a mythical being with very unstable magic that runs on the oldest electromagnetic radiation in the universe. Her powers are influenced by her emotions and almost all of her decisions were driven by them. Even if the Darkhold manages to corrupt Wanda, it was her decision to take the book and study it without consulting with someone like Strange first; someone she said knew was coming to talk to her. Apparently in the MCU, therapists never came back from the snap or something, and sure, a therapist could not help Wanda’s control over her magic but they could help her control her emotions, which is essentially the mechanism of her magic. 

When she mentioned the 'endless nothingness' she said she felt in WV, I just kneeeew they were going to do this (justify her actions by giving the responsibility to outside forces) because that's exactly what Hell (dark dimension ruled by Dormammu) in the MCU is; a realm of never-ending darkness. This is exactly why I think they're going to blame all of her actions on her being corrupted by some dark force. Basically, mentally, Wanda is in Hell. This is why I told yall that her supposed mentors; Steve and Clint failed her. Instead of getting her the help she needed, they pushed her to fight and not accept basic responsibilities/boundaries or get mental help, but what else can you expect from Steve (thought going back in time was better than therapy) or Clint (decided it was a good time to kill people instead of helping the world in better ways while his fam was dead)?

And the other thing that could happen is what Kate Herron; Loki's director, said about He Who Remains' involvement in the Infinity Saga. She believes the Kang variant did script everything in the MCU up until the last movie: "I suppose well, by our show's logic, yes, because he says like, ‘I paved the road, you just walked down it.’ I guess in theory, yeah, he would’ve scripted that because by our show that’s what we’re saying. Everything has been predetermined by this one character, even if up to this point we’ve believed the characters have had free will." In others words, the Kang variant did script the entire Infinity Saga, meaning Tony Stark was destined to die and he used Peter Parker to lure Tony into his death. Meaning Wanda was meant to do all those things to open a door to the multiverse and let the monsters in. 

Could be either of those. (thank you!)

[luna-rainbow]

So I was thinking about the super-soldier serum and the corrupting influence in relation to Bucky. The narrative of TFaTWS (is that the right abbreviation?) wants us to think Steve was the only person who was never corrupted by the serum.

It really annoys me because to me, its obvious that Bucky was never corrupted either and I think a large reason for that was because he never asked for it anyway. I mean yeah its theoretically possible for unasked for power to go to someone's head and for them to abuse it, but everything that happened to Bucky happened because other people were exploiting and using him for their own ends

I kept wanting to kind of yell every time someone rubbed the fact Bucky was a super-soldier in his face, John Walker, Zemo, even Sam at times because they all acted like he loved it or always wanted it or something.

If he had a choice, I dunno I think he just wanted to survive the war and go back home to live a normal life. If anything the serum was like a curse instead of a blessing for him and not something he derived a net benefit from overall.

What do you think?

I'll have no hope of finding my old post on this but yeah, lots of Bucky fans were pretty annoyed with that particular part of the storyline. It wasn't just Zemo saying "there's never been another Steve Rogers", it started with Walker saying "super soldiers don't exactly have a great track record no offence" along with Zemo talking about the Flagsmashers being supremacists (??) It's one of many examples where what is spoken doesn't match how they act, because a "one world one people" slogan is certainly not about any form of supremacy.

Erskine: The serum amplifies what is inside. Good becomes great. Bad becomes worse.

There were two ways of interpreting this: physical, and metaphorical. If the serum enhances everything physical, including the brain and its emotional centers, then yeah maybe it makes someone who is reckless more impulsive, someone who is prone to anger more aggressive, someone who is brave more fearless. I personally don't like this explanation because it seems...rather eugenics or essentialist to me, and the creation of Steve Rogers as Captain America was supposed to be a middle finger to the eugenics movement driven by the Nazis in the 1930s. It's like saying that what determines your actions and your personality is already embedded into your biology, so when your biology is enhanced, so are the good and bad traits in your personality. It doesn't seem to allow scope for personal choice as the main driver of people's actions.

The second option is a more metaphorical interpretation. The serum enhances physical strength and power (and presumably attractiveness), which tends to move people up the social ladder (regardless of whether this is the intention). And it falls back on the same motto that drives Peter Parker -- with great power comes great responsibility. When power falls into the hands of someone unscrupulous, it will tend to bring out their worst traits because the extra strength lowers their inhibitions. When power falls into the hands of someone idealistic and kind, one hopes they will take it upon themselves to use it responsibly and use it for good deeds.

So I agree, I think at some level, the intention behind becoming a super soldier does matter, because we've seen it impact on how people behave after they get their extra strength. The five Siberian super soldiers - their goal was to become better fighters and better spies, and they did, but they were so vicious they couldn't be contained. The Flagsmashers - I mean I'm not happy with their overall consistency, but you could argue their immaturity added a sense of vengefulness and anger to their purpose, which pushed them slowly onto the path of killing indiscriminately.

And Bucky? We have no indication he wanted to be any part of it. He didn't show jealousy at Steve's new bod, for one thing, just a concerned, "Did it hurt?" When Walker said, "This must be so easy for you, with all that serum in your veins." It was hard not to dislike him, because Bucky didn't choose to have the serum, and his protectiveness (in this case of Sam) predates the serum.

It wasn't the serum that turned Bucky into the Winter Soldier, as the series seem to imply at turns, although it seems to recognise at other times that it was the mind-control (and it never for a second even showed the torture Bucky went through). And aside from the Winter Soldier era, Bucky really doesn't have anything else to answer for...so yeah, I agree, I've always had issue with the way the series seem to emphasise that Steve was the only "good" super soldier.

If Bucky was "bad" simply through the serum, they wouldn't have needed to torture him to turn him into the Winter Soldier.

[gagmebucky]

your last post... can we see it 👉👈

Tonight, you’re on cleaning duty.

The chores are split up weekly. You and your roommate alternate between cleaning and cooking; it’s a perfect arrangement. Neither of you are the messy type, and you have similar taste palates, plus you enjoy each other’s company.

You’ve had a number of roommates, and he easily blows them out of the water. Hands down the perfect living companion, your living preferences are the same and synchronized immediately after you moved in. Rather than just being two people who room together, you’ve become good friends.

So you don't mind either chore. In fact, there’s a sense of pride in it. At six o’clock in the evening, you’ve swept, dusted and washed everywhere. It’s not a hard job, and you’re finished quickly. But not quite, not quite, because you like going the extra mile when it comes to the kitchen.

The dishes are done and dried, groceries stowed away in the fridge and cupboards, and counters wiped down. The checkered floors are what you’re working on, once again not expected but you’re thorough and there’s reminiscents of your last cooking endeavor which ended with food flying everywhere.

On all fours, your hair is collected low down your back while your knees dig into cushioned microfiber towels and you scrub the tiles bright white and opaque black. You’ve cleared row after row, and you’re hoping to be finished before he arrives.

But the front door opens, and you hear his combat boot-clad footsteps pad in behind you. Bucky doesn’t walk all the way in, and you don’t need to look back to know he’s leaning against the archway, head tilted while he watches you work, unusually silent but characterically observant of you.

For some reason, you’re flustered. Although you’ve been in revealing clothing before, worse than this, you get a little flustered. The oversized tee does little to hide your ass or your workout shorts, a black pair that hovers at the crease of your cheeks.

Then you remind yourself who it is, your roommate-slash-best friend, a wholesome man who opens doors for you, never forgetting please and thank you. That relaxes you; although he’s a man, certainly not one affected by your swaying hips on every circular swipe.

“Hey,” you speak first, a little breathless, not bothering to look up at him. “I’ll be finished in a sec, if you wanted to w. . .”

Your words trail off when his shadow casts over you—you didn’t even hear him approach—and he’s a breadth away. You don’t have time to look up before his hand twists in your hair, tightens and roughly wrenches your head back. A sharp pain in your neck and a delicious sting in your scalp as your roommate forces you to look at him and only him.

Cerulean blue sparkles with your gasp, blatantly hungry gaze running down your bared throat and cleavage in a loose tee. His mouth quirks to one side, pink tongue swiping over his lower lip, expression otherwise mild mannered like this is casual.

Hair pulled, your body has the instinctive reaction to submit, wide-eyed and at the mercy of the person above you. The shock still seizes you but it’s in the backseat while heat pulses in your center. You’re half-kneeling, careening backward into his unspoken will.

He cranes down, all handsome and wicked a few centimeters away. “You know,” he says like a realization, letting the mint-toned words fan over your lips, “this the perfect position for you to suck my cock. I mean, I could just unbutton my jeans…” His other hand is underneath your chin, thumb gently prying your lips open and rubbing over your tongue. “…and slide right over your soft lil’ tongue ‘til it's my cum you’re cleaning up. That’d be fun, wouldn’t it?”

Your heart drums a beat to disbelief and arousal. How are you supposed to react to that? There’s the appropriate response to jerk away, and there’s the bodily reaction where

Your heart hammers, and you don’t realize you’re holding in a breath. What are you supposed to say—how do you react to that? You don’t know but disbelief at his gall and arousal at his actions wrap around you hotly. All you can do is stare up at him like a deer in headlights, his tangled fingers easing your face closer so his lips can kiss the button of your nose.

Then he lets go.

With a soft chuckle, he releases you and turns toward the refrigerator like nothing happened. “So, I’m thinking orange chicken,” he suggests, glancing over the contents of frozen foods, cool as a cucumber while you’re caught between admonishing him for such a display and begging him to soothe the ache pulsing in your center. “I wanted to make your favorite.”

Did he just—yes, he did—what are you gonna d—I don’t know, your thoughts are running ragged, it turned you on—shut up!—but—

You shake off your thoughts and try to consider the question. “Um…” you say dumbly. It’s such a mundane question. If it wasn’t for the slickness gathered in your center and your desperately clenched thighs, you might think the whole thing was imagined.

“Thanks for cleaning, by the way,” he adds with a boyish beam. “I know we’re supposed to, or whatever, but I still appreciate it. You really make the place feel like a home rather than just somewhere you live. So thank you.”

There’s no mistaking the honesty in his words, and it’s such a juxtaposition to what just happened that you decide that it’s a one time thing, firmly—weakly. Or maybe it was a fevered daydream, something built up when bunking with someone so attractive physically and mentally. Surely, he wasn’t hinting at facefucking you in the middle of the kitchen and cumming down your throat so much it dribbles out of your mouth.

You swallow and clear your throat, nodding but it’s a little frantic. Now, he’s looked back, lifting a brow like he doesn’t know why you’re flustered. There’s a twinkle, though, amused and maybe a little satisfied. He’s still awaiting your response and rather than raise any objections, you answer, “Y - yeah. That sounds good.”

[therealslimshakespeare]

i’m the anon who mentioned the fear thing, just wanted to say that you’re amazing for turning that into a blurb and i greatly appreciate it!!

i agree with you on bucky’s main fear being losing gale. i mean, what else could it be?

i also feel that, within bucky as well, he has a personal fear of being alone; being the only one left with a whole lot of mess and sadness and emotions to deal with. bucky seems to be the type of person that deals with emotions with people, rather than alone. (does that make sense???)

as for crosby, i think it’s pretty obvious that he hates letting people down. look at the way he stressed himself when he was one of the only originals left at base!! (bucky and crosby interlink!)

rosie is dutiful, which is why he feels he must carry the world on his shoulders. he did his 25 missions and could have gone home, but went back for MORE?!! i think he’d be terrified of letting people down too, but not in the same way as it is for croz: rosie feels an innate responsibility over people, to guide them and be almost like a big brother to every person he comes across. not in an overbearing way, though!

buck is naturally more secretive when it comes to his fears. perhaps he has very few, or very many. either way, he’s good at hiding them.

aside from losing bucky, gale’s own fear may be to make a mistake that would result in something catastrophic. sure, he’s confident in his flying skills, but that doesn’t exclude him from the wrath of external forces! i can imagine him up at night mulling over every detail of that day’s mission, wondering how it could have gone even better. or worse.

brady is a lot like buck in the sense that he is very secretive about his fears. but overall, i think john’s biggest fear would be that all of this would amount to nothing. that gnawing feeling that they may lose the war, and all of this loss and pain would be pointless is what keeps him up at night.

overall, i think all of the men share some aspect of each other’s fears, naturally, and it would be hard to distinguish exactly which one is just that much more harsh than the rest.

thank you again for your amazing writing!

Oh my gosh this is everything I could have wanted and more. This is so well thought out because as you said -so many of their fears would overlap but gosh this feels so genuine to each of their specific core fears. Wow. Thank you for sharing, my love.

[buckyodinson]

Warmth (Part 5)

Helmut Zemo x F!Reader

Summary: After you and Zemo are caught together, how do the boys react to Zemo (basically the events of Chapter 4 but from Zemo’s perspective this time)

Word Count: 900~

Warnings: angst, swearing

A/N: sorry this took so long!! I’ve had a looong week, and I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going with the story.

Find previous parts here!

Zemo stepped out of the bedroom, looking warily at Sam and Bucky.

Sam was pissed, staring with his arms crossed against his chest, but Bucky was seething. He looked seconds away from exploding.

Zemo opened his mouth but not even a syllable escaped before Bucky shouted, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

“I’m sorry you had to see that-” Zemo begins.

“You shouldn’t be sorry we saw it, asshole. You should be sorry it even happened! Sorry you even entertained the idea!” Bucky snapped and started to walk towards Zemo.

Mere inches from Zemo, Bucky continued, “If I find out you hurt her in any way, I won’t hesitate to kill you.” Fear flashed briefly over Zemo’s features. He was being deadly serious, and Zemo could tell.

Sam puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky stares for a few seconds more before backing off, and going to pour himself a drink.

Zemo goes to talk again, but a pointed look from Sam has him shut up once more.

“I know Y/N said that she wanted it. But did she actually want it? Or was she just scared to say no, because it’s you?” Sam had a serious expression, and Zemo could tell he cared a lot about you.

Zemo speaks softly, “To the best of my knowledge, she wanted it as much as me. She was the one who initiated the kiss while we were on the jet. As we were about to... I asked again, and she said yes.” Sam looks both relieved and worried at that answer, and Zemo continues, “You may consider me to be the bad guy, but I would never take advantage of a woman like that. You must believe me.”

Sam nods curtly in response but Bucky doesn’t look convinced. There is a brief silence between the men before Sam speaks up again.

“Do you have feelings for her? Or was it just sex?” Sam’s bluntness shocks him and Zemo feels a blush creep up his cheeks, stammering a little.

“I-I... I think I love her...” he admits quietly, and Bucky scoffs from across the room.

“What would you know about love?”

“I had a wife and son, you know that... And since their deaths, I’ve never felt happiness or peace like I’ve known the last few days with Y/N.” He admits it easily and Sam raises his eyebrows at the admission. Bucky still looks skeptical as he downs his drink.

Bucky speaks this time, “What do you expect to come from this, realistically? You’re only here as a necessity. I helped you get out because we needed your help, and once we’re done with you, you’re going back to prison. We’re not gonna let you run off into the sunset with Y/N.”

“I don’t know. I guess I just wanted to make the most of her presence while I had it.” Zemo shrugs and looks genuinely helpless, and Sam almost feels bad for him.

“You really do love her, don’t you.” Sam sighs, scratching at his jaw.

“I do.” He takes a seat on the sofa, looking up worriedly at the other men.

“Does she love you?” Bucky grunts.

“I don’t know. We haven’t spoken about any of this.” He sinks further into the sofa.

“And if she does love you, what then? Bucky’s right, you can’t just run off together. We have to take you back. And this time, they’ll probably put you somewhere more secure, where nobody can even visit you.”

Zemo just sighs in response, and Sam walks towards the bedroom, “I’m gonna check on her.”

Zemo hears Sam knock and ask if you’re decent, before hearing your sad reply and then the door closing again.

“I’m truly sorry for what I’ve caused, James.” Zemo 

“I don’t want to hear it.” he glares at Zemo and both men fall into silence until the bedroom door opens again and they both look to Sam, who looks over to Zemo.

“Not that it’s necessarily my place to say it, but I think she feels the same too.” Zemo’s eyes widen and Bucky hangs his head, sighing.

“Well, what did you say to her?” Bucky asks.

“I told her that it wasn’t my call what happens next, and that she needs to decide what makes the most sense to her.”

“What’d you tell her that for?” Bucky snaps.

“She’s an adult, Buck. She has to make this decision for herself.”

“One of our friends just fucked the guy who tore the Avengers apart, and who put me through personal Hell again, no less. And we’re just gonna move past it like nothing insane has just happened?! And we’re gonna encourage them to accept their feelings? This is bullshit! And I’m the crazy one!? ” Bucky moves to storm out when they all hear the click of the bedroom door.

You emerge from the bedroom, eyes bloodshot from crying and with your backpack in hand, freezing as three sets of eyes land on you. You take a deep breath and straighten yourself out, putting on as confident of a voice as you can muster, “I think I should leave.”

Before any of them can reply, you carry on, “I’m only going to get in the way. You three all bring something important to this fight... I was just here as an extra pair of fists. And now... I’ve thrown a huge spanner in the works. And if we stand any chance of beating these guys, the spanner needs to be removed.”

The air in the room is thick, and none of them speak at first, so you walk towards the door. You hear them all call your name but you don’t stop until you feel a hand on your wrist.

~

Zemo taglist 1/2 (please comment/message/ask if you want to be added/removed):

@noavengers @let-me-read-fanfiction-in-peace @zemodaddy @lulu-yuming @ichigomiluku @multiyfandomgirl40 @gwenebear @aisling1985 @booklover2929 @myeternalsin @moongirl1313 @angiekurosaki @lieutenantn @hibiscusgardenia @plantpottt @whatiswrongwithpeople @writeroutoftime @maldita-insonia @fandomxreaders @loudbluepancake @montypythonsholysnail @bel-13 @ayuoudro @leblubbles @marvelsvision @there-will-be-p-e-a-c-e @and-claudia @multifandombtch @sinister-sleep @moonstuffsteve @endorpuff @thanoshadtosnaptwiceforyou @cryinggarbagebag @eristudytime @grifffins @reichelhache @whoreforsamwilson @booksarekindaneat @ajeff855 @sapphiredreamer26 @marvel-trash-bin @tendertales73 @nocturnal-world @buckys-sugardoll @galaxypox @valeskasgf @mochminnie @cheekybluefox @ashamed23 @lonely-ghost-daddy @miranda-paige  @itslilithsstuff @incansas

(tumblr won’t let me tag some of you for some reason, maybe check your visibility settings - I’ll keep trying!!)