scribbbbbles

[scribbbbbles]

They mischaracterised me in an x reader

[scribbbbbles]

.

.

.

It's like a reward ☕︎

[scribbbbbles]

do you ever look at a man and think i need you in the most disgusting, vile, pathetic, animalistic, disturbing, vulgar and morally questionable way possible

[scribbbbbles]

hiii i feel like i haven't heard from you in forever

how's life

pookie I’m ngl you picked the FUNNIEST time to send this ask bc I just opened this hellsite for the first time in MONTHS today LMFAO

I’ve been good!!!!!! so so so so SO stupidly busy being employed sigh (I got a summer internship and I love it but god am I tired)

I need to sit down and upload all my dumps here bc so many ficlets are dying in my notes :(((

I MISSED YOU HOW ARE YOU I HOPE YOURE DOING GOOD <333333

[scribbbbbles]

the thing about captain america the first avenger is that it tries really hard to sell the idea of Bucky being a macho womanizer. Too bad they cast Sebastian Stan, the master of sad longing gazes you'd normally only ever see in eastern european gay porn.

[scribbbbbles]

he makes my stomach jump to my throat and my ribs ache in the same way your teeth do after biting into too-sweet frosting.

he smells like summer rain, and he feels solid and warm like the old wood of a dock that’s soaked in sun.

I could breathe him in for days. his skin tastes like nothing else.

he kisses me like I’m the last thing on earth and he’s starving, but with the care you’d give your favorite paperback.

he makes me smile so much my cheeks burn, and now I throw my head back when I laugh.

he squeezes my hand three times when he holds it and either I’m overthinking or he thinks I don’t know what that means.

I can’t tell him I love him because it’s too soon but when I catch my hair tie resting on his wrist and he lifts me up to kiss me goodbye I have no other words to describe it.

-cq

[scribbbbbles]

Thinking about the trope of the good person manipulated into doing a bad thing by the villain using threats of violence against them. 

I realise that Bucky is so good that this trope doesn’t apply to him, because Hydra tried violent punishments and threats of more against him, and it didn’t work. 

They had to add brain damage, drugs, and amnesia on top of that. 

And, they still had to try and trick drugged brain-damaged amnesiac Bucky into obeying willingly (eg. telling him that what they were making him do was good, protecting people, bringing peace, etc.)

And even then, brain-damaged, drugged, and with no memory of who he was to contradict their ideals, Bucky wouldn’d do as he was told; he hesitated, he questioned. He had to be given mind-control trigger words on top. 

In the MCU, Bucky’s goodness is so intrinsic a part of him that total amnesia wasn’t enough on its own to make him do bad. 

[scribbbbbles]

soft stucky thoughts

bucky calling steve "ducky" because of how his blond hair sticks up like a duckling's

the two of them having comfort books that are very special to them

reading each other to sleep after one has a nightmare

forehead kisses

wedding rings engraved with till the end of the line

wearing the other's dog tags

having after-mission routines to help them unwind, like washing each other's hair or spooning

having each other's picture in their wallet

shared memories of how brooklyn used to look: the diners, the greengrocer's, the stray cat that hung around their alleyway

linked pinky fingers

holding hands wherever they go

steve playing with bucky's hair

bucky massaging steve's shoulders after a long day

just them being in love forever <3

[scribbbbbles]

[scribbbbbles]

bucky bought a ring.

there’s no way he didn’t. he kept it hidden, in a small navy box tucked away behind letters from his sisters. he bought it somewhere in london — some pawn shop he didn’t remember the name of. he knew steve would say yes, even if no one else would ever know he did. in fact, he’d probably be mad bucky hadn’t got the guts to ask sooner. but bucky wanted away from all this — the blood matted into their hair, the gunpowder on their faces, the dirt in their fingernails, their ever-wet socks.

the last thing he thought of as he lay in the cold and unforgiving austrian snow, was that shiny silver band tucked away in the back of his bag back at base.

now imagine steve.

it’s 2011. everyone you’ve ever loved is dead or geriatric. you’re a national icon.

so you go to see your exhibit in the smithsonian because someone deemed a suicidal gay man dressed in stars and stripes worthy of an exhibit. you see your best friend the love of your life has his own part of it. he should be the whole damn exhibit.

then an automated voice directs you to a small glass display case in the corner. the last of sergeant barnes’ personal belongings, collected from his tent at base camp. february, 1944.

there’s a navy box with a plain, silver band to the very far left.

the notecard says something about the possibly barnes got married before he shipped out, but there was no record of it. maybe it wasn’t official.

but steve knew.

and his heart shatters.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

[scribbbbbles]

when they were just boys, he’d cracked his chest open, bones aching and groaning as he pulled out his heart and placed it into steve’s hands. it was a squishy, malleable thing, warm and pulsing. his lifeblood.

steve had no idea, but the gentle way he cradled bucky’s face after his first fight with patrick brown in third grade sure made it seem like he did. like he was made of something special. one narrow, boney finger tracing the blossoms of purplish blues and the new crook in his already too-big nose like bucky was one of those ancient greek statues, like he was achilles. the gap in his front two teeth showed when steve sucked in a quick breath before running off to get miss sarah. bucky felt the very last bit of him slither into that space.

not much had changed by the night before he shipped out. drunk off a heady whiskey from the shit bar down the bend, flushed and sore from head to toe after one last night dancing with rebecca and the twins, steve a mere few inches from his twitching fingers in the bed. he took everything in him, reaching deep down in his being despite the creaking protesting hums of his bones, and poured it out onto steve’s skin as he slept. the slightly hardened and shapely organ rolling easily into his palm, warm and wet. he tucked it under steve’s arms for safe keeping. there was no room for it where he was headed. he briefly wondered if those bible stories steve was always telling him had any actual weight, because if he was made of anything true it was the bone of steve’s rib.

it was common, a daily ritual at this point. after all, bucky barnes started and ended with steve rogers. spindly artist’s fingers locked around thick callused knuckles, deep ocean blue meeting crystalline gray, two twin broken noses, crumpled newspapers in the toes of boots matching folded sketches in the pocket of an old jacket, the dandelion blonde against mahogany brunette. flimsy wings made for boyish love melting in the heat as he yearned to be filled again with the light of his own personal sun.

bucky often wished he could draw like steve, capture some of that wretched goodness on a page for safe keeping. he didn’t know whether it was good or bad that steve slept through the ghostly press of his lips over his mouth.

when bucky walked up the wooden plank to that army boat the next morning before the pink of the dawn, he swore he felt a singular thin finger trace down his nose; as his heart beat a few miles away clutched tight in red covered sticky arms, in a rundown apartment with a leaky window and a sunshine boy.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

[scribbbbbles]

Are they lovers? Worse. They never got to be.

[scribbbbbles]

was is casual when you stood against 117 countries and became a fugitive for me?

[scribbbbbles]

[scribbbbbles]

[scribbbbbles]

~ Let's go home ~

Another piece from my patreon

[scribbbbbles]