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Wyatt Russell in behind the scenes of thunderbolts

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this or that (both)

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the difference between their reactions to john falling is killing me 😭😭😭

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Keira Knightley: [Matthew MacFadyen] is just such a nice man. I think that helps [when someone is your love interest]. I think that helps when you meet somebody [who will potentially be your cast mate] and you think, "Well, you're just lovely." And is also such an amazing actor. So, what fun. Rosamund Pike: And when he can completely mask the niceness and put it under the arrogance and standoffish-ness that Darcy appears to have. And then [you] melt. Oh, so good. Pride & Prejudice (2005) Dir. Joe Wright Matthew Macfadyen for CBS Mornings (2024) Keira Knightley and Rosamund Pike for Vanity Fair (2025)

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SEBASTIAN STAN as JAMES BUCHANAN BARNES ↳ CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE FIRST AVENGER (2011), dir. JOE JOHNSTON

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husband.

@buckyblogs

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The Sound of Music (1965) dir. Robert Wise

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THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER 1.04 — The Whole World Is Watching

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Just Bucky and Barky Barnes

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Just Bucky and Barky Barnes

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My man, my man, my man 😍

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SEBASTIAN STAN as BUCKY BARNES THE WINTER SOLDIER CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR (2016) Dir. Anthony & Joe Russo

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begging for some more 40s bucky cuz i need more of that in my life tbh <3

ofc! i love writing for 40's bucky, i wanna write for 40's steve too tbh

ᝰ.ᐟ cold coffee

| 1940s! bucky barnes x reader. ~1k words. fluff.

masterlist. | oneshot masterlist.

The wind in Italy was sharp that day. It was all dry, fast, and biting, like a whisper trying to outrun the echo of artillery. You sat on the edge of the camp’s makeshift medical tent, your boots half unlaced and your sleeves rolled to the elbows, still streaked with someone else's blood. The cup of weak coffee you cradled between your hands steamed, warming your fingers if not your chest, and you stared across the horizon like you were trying to memorize the shapes of clouds before dusk swallowed them whole.

There had been no time to process anything lately. The days bled together, filled with groans and orders barked over too many open wounds, too much red. You barely had time to sleep, let alone think. But in these five stolen minutes between shifts, you let yourself pause, just long enough to feel the exhaustion settle in your bones like wet cement.

“Guess the rumors are true,” came a smooth and familiar voice came from besides you. It was slightly tinged with the kind of charm that always made you brace for a wink or a crooked grin. “They really do let angels into combat zones.”

You didn’t look right away. You were tired, and flattery rolled off your back like so much rain, but your lips did twitch upward, just barely.

“You’re late, Barnes.” You teasingly scolded.

Bucky chuckled, the sound warm and low as he stepped closer. He leaned against the tent post beside you, arms crossed casually, his uniform unbuttoned at the collar and dusted with dirt from the road. His hair was longer than regulation allowed, curling a little at the edges now, like the war had softened him in strange places while hardening others.

“I’m exactly on time,” he said, glancing down at you with a glint in his eye. “They told me to report to the medical tent.. said the best nurse in the division was hoarding all the good painkillers.”

You gave him a sideways glance and looked over him for any cuts, bruises, or ailments. “You’re not even injured.”

“Not physically,” he said with faux seriousness, placing a hand to his chest. “But I’m pretty sure I was emotionally wounded by that insult you just threw at me.”

You snorted and looked away, but your smile lingered longer than you expected. Despite the banter, you could tell that he was tired too. The kind of tired that didn’t go away with a few hours of sleep because it came from watching too many friends fall, too many close calls, and having too much weight pressed onto a single set of shoulders.

“Want some coffee?” you asked, holding out your cup.

Bucky looked surprised, then touched. He took it, careful not to brush your fingers too much. “Sharing rations? That’s love.”

“It’s recycled,” you said dryly.

He made a face after the first sip, but didn’t hand it back. “Figures.”

You both fell into a silence that was heavier than the quiet moments back home, but somehow lighter than everything else around you here. The sun had started to dip lower, staining the sky with strokes of burnt orange and navy blue. Somewhere nearby, an engine sputtered to life, and the faint crackle of a radio drifted on the air... some old swing tune made distant by the static.

“You okay?” he asked after a moment. It wasn't a casual question, not from him at least, he asked like he’d been waiting to ask because he needed to.

It was a soft question, and it came from someplace real. It wasn't from the part of him that flirted like breathing, but, instead, from the part that sat with you during blackouts and brought you a chocolate bar after a bad day.

Regardless, you didn’t answer right away. The day had been long and filled with three surgeries, two lost, and a young private who cried for his mother the entire time you stitched his leg back together. You weren’t sure what “okay” meant anymore. But still, you nodded, just once.

He nudged your knee with his. “Liar.”

You rolled your eyes, but your lips curled faintly at the edges. “You’re not supposed to psychoanalyze me, Sergeant.”

“I’m not psychoanalyzing,” he said, settling beside you, his shoulder brushing yours. “I’m noticing.” Afterwards, he looked at her with a slight smile

You let out a breath, slow and shaky, and shrugged one shoulder. “I’m… here.”

He nodded, like he understood that was the best you could offer. And you knew he actually did understand.

Bucky wasn’t all jokes and charm, not really. He had this depth to him that most people didn’t bother to look for. You, however, you had seen it in the way he carried injured men without complaint, in the letters he wrote for the ones who couldn’t anymore, and in the quiet moments when he didn’t speak at all, just sat nearby to let you know you weren’t alone.

“Ever think about what you’ll do after all this?” you asked suddenly, the words escaping like a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

Bucky didn’t answer right away. He stared out at the horizon, brows drawn.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “Hard to imagine anything that doesn’t smell like gunpowder and blood, but… yeah. I think about it. I think I’d like a little place somewhere, maybe in Brooklyn. Close enough to hear music from the windows, but definitely somewhere I can sleep in without a siren screaming me awake.”

You looked at him then, the gold light caught the angles of his face, and for a moment, you could see it. You saw a version of him untouched by war, younger, freer. You wondered if he’d ever get to be that man again. If any of you would.

“You could have that,” you said, and your voice was steadier than you felt.

He turned toward you, his eyes softening, and for once, there was no joke on his tongue. “Only if you’re in the picture too.”

The breath you took was shallow, and you weren’t sure if it was from the weight of his words or how gently he said them.

Then a shout rang out from the next tent -- your name, followed by an urgent “We need hands!” -- and just like that, the spell was broken.

You stood quickly, boots crunching against the gravel, and handed him the cup. "Don’t let it go cold,” you said, already pulling your sleeves down as you headed back in.

Behind you, Bucky’s voice followed like a promise, “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

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what if i made this a series tbh i love the concept of a field medic reader x bucky bc i love that dynamic literally in everything LMAOO

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"holy shit they finally confessed, what comes next--"

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This isn't right Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes // Thunderbolts* (The New Avengers) (2025)

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I still cannot believe this is an actual, canon shot of Bucky Barnes. Are they insane? Were they trying to kill people?

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A little bit of realistic style practice