#i’ll show up when he and Sam get therapy together:)

[buthearmeouttho]

If I was part of the mcu (pt. 40)

Bucky, as he gets arrested for skipping therapy: *on the police ride* … wait a goddamn-

Bucky: *can’t remember where I am* oh my god

person driving: what?

Bucky: oh my god I left Cat at Isaiah’s house.

person driving: ..?

*meanwhile*

me: *pokes head through doorway* :{

Isaiah: who are you?

me: :{

me: *quiet hug*

me: I’m sorry:((

Isaiah:

Isaiah: *holding back tears* for what-

[jamie-leah]

Lifeline Pt 3

Bucky x Reader

Series

Summary: You have a past that you're running from and maybe Bucky can be the lifeline you had no idea you were searching for.

Word Count: 2,037

Warnings: Descriptions of domestic abuse, mentions of death and suicide

A/N: Sorry I missed last weekend, I had a funeral to attend but here is a slightly longer part for you. I'm keeping a tag list so let me know if you want in. Requests are also open if you would like to send one in. Enjoy!

<-Previous Part Next Part->

Masterlist of Masterlists

After that day, Bucky spends more time at your apartment. In fact, he spends more time with you in general. He comes to the diner more often and any day you both have free you spend it together. You’ve kicked his ass at all the video games you have, he’s shown you all his favourite spots in New York, including a hole in the wall book shop that you stayed at for hours.  

You were at this very book shop with Bucky when he says, “so, every month at the tower we all try to stick to this family dinner thing.”  

This piques your interest. Bucky doesn’t talk about the others very often. Almost like he doesn’t want to mix you up with his drama. Like he wants to keep you away from the danger of his work. You’ve never pushed him, even though you love the stories he tells of him and Steve back in the 40s. Or the pranks he and Sam play on each other every so often.  

You never push him to talk about things he doesn’t want to because you know you have so much you can’t talk about either.  

You nod to Bucky to show that you’re listening to him, “well, there’s a family dinner tomorrow night and my therapist thinks it would be a good idea to invite you...not that I don’t want you to be there or didn’t want to ask you myself. I want you with me all the time, but I didn’t want to subject you to the chaos of everyone or Tony Stark or Natasha or Sam. Actually, you know what? Forget I said anything, this was stupid-”  

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of your throat, “Bucky, I’d love to go with you.”  

Bucky spins around fast, dropping the book he was holding, “you would?”  

You chuckle, picking up the book and handing it back to the idiot in front of you, “they’re your family. Plus, it would be nice to have dinner at yours for a change.”  

Bucky breaks out into a grin, grabbing you in a bear hug and twirling you around. When he sets you down, he says, “look, I have to go but I’ll pick you up around 7?”  

You nod as he races out the door to get to his therapy appointment on time, laughing as he practically skips out the door like a little kid.  

Tomorrow comes around faster than you would have liked. You feel like you’ve had no time to prepare for this dinner. You’re meeting Bucky’s family; it feels so important, and you don’t want to mess anything up.  

You still haven’t heard anything from Andrew which is a miracle and if it keeps going like this you might get to build a life here. A life that you hope involves Bucky for a long time to come. But it won’t if you mess this up tonight.  

Staring into the mirror you can see the bags under your eyes from another sleepless night. The nightmares now involving Bucky and being ripped away from this life that you’re starting to love. It always wakes you up feeling breathless and hopeless because there’s a part of you that knows Andrew will come one day and you’ll just have to leave.  

Are you being cruel? To you and to Bucky? Making you both feel so deeply for each other when you know at any moment it could fall like a house of cards? And what exactly do you feel for the man? You swore to yourself that would never get involved romantically again but with Bucky do you have a choice? Can you just be friends with someone that feels like your other half?  

Just then you hear a knock at the door, distracting you from your thoughts. You rush to the door thinking it’s Bucky coming to pick you up but when you open up your smile fades.  

A delivery man is holding a bunch of red roses, thrusting them into your hand as soon as he sees you. Your blood runs cold. You stand, staring at the flowers like they may bite you at any moment.  

When you tear your gaze away from them the delivery man is nearly at the elevator already, “hey! Wait, I didn’t see a card with them?”  

He always leaves a card. This can’t be him because he always leaves a card. The delivery man shrugs, “the guy didn’t want a card.”  

You hear the elevator ding like background noise. Your whole world comes back to the roses in your hand. Andrew picks a different flower every time so there’s no way to know and the delivery man said it was a guy that ordered the flowers. He knows. Andrew knows.  

You drop the flowers like they burn you and race into the apartment. Fight or flight kicks in and you know the dance by now. Heading straight to your room at the back of the closet is your go back. Savings you’ve put away from your job, a couple of old family photos and a passport.  

You promised yourself that if New York did not work, you would try a different country altogether, hoping he would never go that far just to teach you a lesson.  

You reach the open plan kitchen just as Bucky runs through the door looking frantic. His eyes land on you but you don’t have time to stop as you throw more supplies into your go bag.  

Bucky says, “I saw the door open and the flowers on the floor, I thought...I thought-Are you leaving?” 

You turn to look at him when you sense the feeling of betrayal behind his words. Words get caught in your throat, so you don’t say anything. You were barely holding it together before Bucky got here, but now it seems almost impossible to go with him watching. Almost.  

“I know you may not like the flowers, but this is a little extreme, right?” He goes for humour but even you can tell its strained.  

And then his meaning penetrates the fog in your brain, “you? You got the flowers?”  

Bucky shrugs, “they were supposed to arrive yesterday after you said you’d come to family dinner, but I ordered them too late, so I was hoping to beat them here and give them to you myself but well...” 

He trails off and your shoulders sag. Bucky got the flowers. The flowers were from Bucky. The go bag slips from your grip, hitting the floor with a thud, drawing Bucky’s attention once again.  

“Why? Who did you think they were from?”  

You don’t answer. How can you? The answer is so much more complicated than just a name and yet at the same time it isn’t.  

A lump forms in your throat. You want to tell him. You want so much to let someone else carry this burden with you but every time you told someone your story, they either sided with the monster or ended up dead because of him. Because of you. And you would walk away before you saw anything happen to the man standing in front of you.  

Bucky shakes his head. Walking over to pick up the flowers, he lays them on the kitchen table, “I can’t do this. I can’t be here if it means that you might leave at any moment. I’ve been left behind before and I barely made it out alive. I can’t go through that again.”  

And your heart aches. It aches so much that you don’t know how you remain standing as you watch the only person that’s ever made you feel safe start to walk out the door.  

If you were less selfish, you would let Bucky walk out that door and never come back. You would leave him behind and leave New York. You would be miserable just to keep him safe. But you can’t. And you don’t.  

“The first time he hit me, it was our honeymoon.”  

Bucky stops dead. He doesn’t turn around, but you take it as your cue to keep talking, “this guy at a bar flirted with me. He gave me his best pick up line, I laughed and told him I was flattered but I was married, and the guy left me alone. Andrew, my husband, saw and challenged me on it in our hotel room. 

I laughed and told him to stop being silly and that I had seen him flirt with other women before too. It was the first and last time he hit me with an open palm. I made excuses for him. I didn’t want to admit that I cut all my friends and family off for a monster. He was all I had left. But after a few years, when he was dishonourably discharged from the Army, I spoke to his closest friend, Tommy. Tommy was a good man. I showed him the bruises and he believed me. After all these years, he was the only person to believe me.  

Tommy had sensed a change in Andrew, he became less bothered about hiding his temper when the Army chewed him up and spat him out. Tommy confronted him. A week later, Tommy went missing. Three months after that his body was found in the woods. Suicide they said.”  

Bucky finally turns to face you, his eyes swimming with anger and pain so much like your own that you have to look away. You stare at your hands instead, “after Tommy was gone, Andrew got worse. I was going to the hospital at least once a month and everyone believed all the lies. It got so bad that I once went to the police. They called Andrew and he told them that I wasn’t doing very well, and they believed him. After that incident I ended up in the hospital for six weeks. He told them I fell from the roof.”  

Bucky lets out a string of curse words that have you smiling despite the circumstances, “How did you get away?” 

“I got a job. In secret of course. I arranged it so I would only work when he did, and I worked in the next town over. I saved and saved and saved. And then one night I put sleeping pills in with his food. Once I was sure he was asleep, I took the car and left in the middle of the night. I ditched it the next morning and walked to a bus station.”  

“But he still finds you?” Bucky asks.  

You nod, “I haven’t been able to stay in a place longer than two months before he sends flowers and a card to wherever I’m staying at the time. It’s almost like he’s enjoying playing cat and mouse. He’s letting the game go on because I know the moment he catches me this time, I’ll be dead.”  

Bucky takes a step towards you, “no. I’m not going to let that happen.”  

“Tommy said the same thing.”  

“Yeah, well, Tommy wasn’t a super soldier.”  

“But he was a soldier.”  

Bucky shakes his head, “it's been longer than two months. Maybe he’s given up. Found someone else or got what’s coming to him from someone else.”  

“Maybe”, you whisper.  

Bucky closes the distance between you, pulling you into the warmth of his body, holding you like it's a miracle you’re still standing, “you can’t keep running. I won’t let you. Why should you have to run because that waste of oxygen can’t keep his hands to himself?”  

You don’t have an answer, so you just cling to him tighter. Bucky pulls back to look down at you, “promise me, you’ll come to me first. Come to me before you run.”  

You shake your head, “that’s just your way of asking me to stay.”  

“So, what if it is? I deal with bad people and monsters all the time. Let me help you with yours? Come to me first, please?”  

And despite your better judgement, despite all the promises you made to yourself, you tell Bucky yes. You tell him that you’ll stay. You just hope you’re not sealing both of your fates because of it.  

Tags: @ordelixx @cjand10 @identity2212 @sukaibg

[questionableratatouille00]

𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓞𝓷 10

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wanda and Y/n talk about their love lives as they get closer. Now, Y/n is sure that she’s getting better. Everyone in the group is. But there’s still work to be done. And not just for Y/n. Is it possible that even Sam Wilson needs help?

Warnings (Entire Series): This series deals with mature topics, including, but not limited to: death, mental health issues, physical, emotional, and sexual abuse, grief, trauma, general unwellness, illness (both mental and physical), and a most likely inaccurate portrayal of group therapy (though it’s much better than whatever was going on in TFATWS.) Please mind the warnings below.

Warnings: talks of death, dead romantic partners, nudity, let me know anything else that should be tagged.

🌻Series Masterlist 🌻

𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

You wake up the next morning, Wanda still tucked into your chest, breathing deeply.

You slowly toss your head back, staring at the headboard.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, readjusting her fingers on your chest.

“Morning.” You looked down at her. God, she was beautiful.

You stared at each other for a moment, gentle and pure adoration in both of your eyes.

“I should uhm, I should get up. I’ll make you breakfast.” She offered. She pulled away, getting up and out of bed. She covered her chest, before realizing that there wasn’t much of a point. She gave an awkward smile before walking into her walk-in closet.

She left the door open, and you watched as she slipped a shirt over her head. It was quite long, and went down to her mid-thighs. When she turned around, you could see what the shirt was. A Dick van Dyke show t-shirt.

“Can I use your shower?” You asked as you sat up.

“‘Course, go right ahead.” She hummed.

She left the room, and you got out of bed. You collected your discarded clothes off of her bedroom floor, walking into her master bathroom, which was connected to her room.

You turned on the shower, setting your clothes on the empty space between the two sinks. One for her and one for her dead husband.

Jesus Christ, that was dark.

Her dead husband probably slept in the bed you fucked his wife in, your brain added. You groaned internally as you turned on the shower.

After staring at yourself in the mirror, you stepped into the shower, standing under the hot water. It felt nice.

You stood there for a few moments, your eyes closed, listening to your breathing.

And then you heard a knock at the bathroom door.

“Can I come in?” Her voice called gently from the other side.

“I won’t stop you,” you said back, your voice slightly echoing from the bathroom interior.

She opened the door, pulling off the oversized t-shirt. “Mind if I join you?”

“I don’t mind one bit.” You hummed. She stepped into the shower, and you moved to let her into the water spray.

“Sam called.” She murmured. “Something about a boat. It’s from Louisiana, but he got it down here in New York.”

When she saw your confused expression, she chuckled and shook her head.

“Yeah, I don’t know. But he needs help fixing it or something. He mentioned his sister trying to sell it. I can’t tell if he’s fixing it up to sell it or if he’s fixing it up to convince her not to, but he needs help fixing it.” She explained.

“Oh. I’ll go help him out. S’anyone else going?”

“I told him I’d be there. Pretty sure everybody else will come down too.” She had a gold necklace on, a small heart.

You helped each other wash your hair. It was more loving than sexy, something that felt special to just the two of you.

With Nat, showering together usually meant something more steamy. And it was never nonconsensual or anything like that, and sometimes you’d just shower together because you felt like it, but even then it was nothing like this.

Wanda revealed that she had made muffins. You ate them together before you left to go home.

Once you got back to your apartment, you changed clothes and told Sam you’d be there. He’d sent a text to the group chat when you were in the shower.

And you were there. You and Wanda drove separately, not really wanting to make it clear what you’d been doing the night before.

You were positive someone had put it together already, but you were begging the universe to at least give you some time to come to terms with it.

You were currently working on cleaning the windows of the cabin, wiping them down until they looked nice.

Wanda called for you from outside the cabin. “Yeah?” You responded as you went outside to see her.

“Can you grab that? I can’t get it.” She pointed to a pack of hardware nails.

“Yeah, sure.” You reached for it. And reached for it. Your fingers touched it once, you swear.

But even you couldn’t reach it, and you wanted lightning to strike you down right then and there.

“Here you go.” Thor grabbed the nails and handed them to you. He smiled warmly, as if proud of what he’d done.

“Thanks, Thor.” You said kindly, but tiredly.

He grinned before walking away.

You handed Wanda the nails without looking at her.

“Thank—“ She began to tease, but you cut her off.

“Don’t even say it.” You grumbled, and she chuckled before walking off with the nails and a hammer.

You began to clean the outside of the windows.

“How long has that been going on?” Steve said suddenly from beside you. You gasped, he had scared you.

“Sorry.” He murmured.

“It’s fine.” You hummed. “And I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You and Wanda.” He nodded. “It’s cute. You should see the way she looks at you.”

You felt your face get hot. “There’s—it’s not like—nothing is going on.”

“B-S!” Bucky said in a sing-song voice as he walked over. “Bullshit.”

“Fuck off.” You groaned. “It—it’s complicated.”

“She really does like you, though.” Steve said.

“And it looks like you like her too.” Bucky teased.

“Shut up.” You groaned as you tried to focus on the windows. Bucky and Steve chuckled, walking off to do something hopefully productive.

You heard footsteps coming from behind you. “Whoever you are, please for the love of God do not lecture me on my potential romantic relationships.”

“I never said I was gonna.” Sam chuckled, walking up beside you.

“Good.” You went back to cleaning the windows.

“Thanks for coming out. To help.” He smiles, the gap in his teeth warming your heart slightly.

“Oh. I thought you were thanking me for being gay.”

He snorts, shaking his head. “You know, she really does look a lot happier when she’s with you.”

You couldn’t help but feel a bit lighter at that. “..You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

“That must mean it’s extra true.”

“I guess so.” You reached higher as you wiped at the top of the windows.

“You still think about Natasha?” He tilted his head as he helped with the window next to the one you were working on.

“All the time.” You answered earnestly. “I’ve been trying to ‘get better’—whatever the fuck that means. Sometimes I don’t get why I can’t just get over it.” You rambled. “Sorry. That was a lot.”

“No, I get it. Riley..he was my Natasha.”

“Oh.” You blinked. “Guess we’re a lot similar than I thought. How..how do you cope?”

He nodded, before speaking again. “I guess I realized that you don’t have to move on. Grief is a hell of a lot like love; always there, even if you don’t feel it at times. It comes in waves. Some days it’s gonna be a tsunami, other days, it’ll be a tiny little ripple in the water that laps at your shoe.”

You nodded slowly. “Thank you. That..actually helps.”

He smiles softly. “I didn’t become a counselor for nothin’.”

You rest your head on Wanda’s chest as she rubs circles into your back.

You liked her bed; liked her choice in sheets. White duvet, with tiny sunflowers over it. Yellow and white pillows, gentle yellow sheets.

“I still think about Vision sometimes,” she murmured into your hair.

“I think about Natasha. I’m pretty sure that’s normal.” You told her.

She nodded. “Sometimes, it’s like this wave washing over me, and nobody how many times I stand up..it just comes back to knock me down again. But I guess it just means that the love was real.”

“You sound a lot like Sam.” You chuckled.

She smiled, her nose crinkling as always. “Maybe that means we’re both right.”

“Maybe.” You looked up at her.

“Vis had this thing he used to say. It was uhm..” she paused as she tried to remember it. “What is grief, if not love persevering?”

“That’s a sick ass quote, but I’m pretty sure it’s from a movie or a book or something. That’s hella poetic.”

“Nope. It’s all his.” She replied.

“Damn. He was smart as fuck.” You laughed a little.

“Yeah. Sometimes annoyingly so.” She giggled with you.

“I’m glad I get to be here with you.”

“I’m glad too.” She grinned, before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

And then one to your lips.

a/n: SHES HERE and it’s been a long time coming. Love the dialogue for this one.

[einloukrativesangebot]

February 2024 Destiel Fic Recs

Fics that were written in february of 2024, that I really loved.

Bad Day at the Office by nephiliminality

Castiel has successfully retrieved Dean Winchester from Hell, and now all he has to do is resurrect him, introduce himself and persuade him to serve Heaven. Should be an easy job, right?

Unfortunately, keeping this particular human alive is a lot harder than he expected. If Gabriel would stop laughing, that would really help.

(Lazarus Rising meets Mystery Spot. That's it, that's the fic)

This was is so good, awesome doesn't even begin to cover it.

Piece of Mind by golbygloom

Castiel has only been human for a few weeks when he experiences his first 'headache,' as Dean calls it. At first, he thinks it's nothing, as Sam and Dean said, but as they begin happening more and more frequently, he becomes convinced that this is Naomi's doing as she tries to rip him away from everything he's worked so hard to get. Why else would his head be aching almost constantly, with the pain originating so close to his eyes?

This fic is very angsty, but who doesn't love angst?

room for one more troubled soul by an_ardent_rain

“I’m here looking for Sam Winchester.”

“Yeah,” he says. “That’s me. What can I do for you?”

“I’m… sorry for bothering you,” Castiel says. He clears his throat, and then takes a deep breath, pulling himself together. “I need your help. It’s about your brother.”

Sam’s eyebrows raise in surprise, though he keeps his expression mostly blank. Castiel licks dry lips. “Dean went on a hunting trip,” he says. “And he hasn’t checked in in a few days.”

The concept is so intriguing and the writing is amazing.

dawn breaks overhead by dykeydean

So he finds himself standing in the middle of a run-down motel, letting himself be dressed by a human.

He doesn’t quite remember getting from there to here, but it doesn’t matter. This human’s soul is good, and so he trusts. There is nothing else to do.

“I only got one bed, but, uh, we can share,” the human says. He radiates nervous energy, and Castiel supposes that a bloody angel- fallen angel- showing up on your doorstep would be quite disorienting. Then again, humans used to worship angels almost to the level that they worshiped God. Perhaps times have not changed, and the human is simply awe-struck.

“I don’t sleep,” Castiel says, and then he blacks out.

Again, amazing concept and the writing is superb.

spanner in the works by casdoms (moffwithhishead)

 “You have to choose, Castiel. Us, or them.”

Them. It was always going to be them.

Definitely worth the read, especially for Cas-fans.

Candy-crushing the angel way by FreyaBlackthorn

Dean is a bit uncomfortable with Cas staring at him during the night; he convinces the angel to download Candy Crush.

Because Dean is a candy and Cas is crushing, right? (I'm sorry).

This one is hilarious.

Steady As The Night Goes by Angel_With_A_Shotgun (CalmWaters)

“Yeah. Here,” Dean lifted one of the blankets from the stack beside the bed, “you kept kicking them off earlier.” Cas took it quickly. Wrapped himself up in it. Wide, blue, fevered eyes stared into Dean’s. More alarm bells rang inside of Dean’s head.

Or, a newly human Cas struggles with a fever, while Dean struggles with his feelings.

It's just very sweet and very in character for Dean.

True Blue by adeptune

Based loosely off of this tweet:

"Anyone down to take couples counseling and see at what point the therapist realizes we don't even know each other ?"

Or Sam bets Dean a thousand dollars that he and Cas can't go to couple's therapy for a week without the therapist noticing they aren't a couple...

These guys really do need therapy...

feather and nest by orphan_account

Early November comes and goes. Dean tries to hold on through the winter.

Starts angsty, but the ending is really cute.

Cowboy Blues by tollie

“I’ll take this,” Dean dropped a beaded bolo tie on the counter, “and he’ll wear the hat.” “I will?” Cas said, but Dean appeared not to hear as he swiped the Charlie card and pocketed the receipt.

Episode coda for 13x06 "Tombstone" in which Dean buys Cas that absurd hat and Cas wonders what the real cause is for Dean's good mood.

This is very fluffy and such a nice fanfic gap-fic.

Kitchen Table Conversations by Owco

“So let me summarize,” Sam began, still somewhat hoping he’d wake up and this would be a bizarre dream he’d never tell anyone about, “Dean was asking for it so hard it turned into a prayer, causing you to accidentally jump into his body. You were so cozy next to his soul that you left your vessel dead on the bed for over ten minutes. Have I got that right?”

This one's very funny.

Here are the January Recs

[ejzah]

The Other Shoe, Part 16

***

“Now what do we think we’re doing here?” Deeks asked the bean plant he was trying to untangle from an over enthusiastic cucumber vine. “Come on, that’s just not polite.”

“Should I be worried that you’re talking to the produce?”

Deeks looked over his shoulder, smiling as Sam approached. It reminded him of not so long ago when Sam had come, with his lifesaving offer.

“Only if they start talking back,” Deeks replied. He tossed his gardening gloves to the side. “Can I interest you in a cheeky cucumber or some slightly mature wax beans?”

“Maybe later,” Sam said wryly. “Looks like everything’s flourishing.”

“Yeah, it got a little out of hand while I was convalescing.” He gave Sam a once over. They’d gotten together a few times since Deeks’ release from the hospital, but they’d both been surprisingly between follow up appointments, therapy (for Deeks), and catching up on everything that went to the wayside in the last month. “You look good, man.”

“You too.” Holding out an arm, Sam tugged Deeks in for a firm hug. E squeezed Deeks extra hard once, then stepped back with an approving nod. “Good to see you with some meat back on your bones and some color in your skin. You been back out on the water yet?”

“Just to wade. I got a couple more weeks before I can fully submerge this thing.” Deeks pointed towards his scar and shrugged regretfully. “I can’t wait.”

“You’ll get there,” Sam assured him. “Though if you get eaten by a shark and waste my good kidney, I will kill you.”

“I’ll be careful. What about you? Did you have a good trip with Kam and Aiden?”

“I did. Though Kam spent the entire time worrying over me. Wouldn’t let me cook or clean a thing.”

“Sounds familiar,” Deeks said with a soft grin, gesturing for Sam to follow him into the house. “They’re just glad we’re ok.”

“I know. And I’m grateful, but in terms of recoveries, this one is way down on the list. I didn’t nearly bleed out, wasn’t poisoned or shot,” Sam made a face as he listed off previous injuries.

“You didn’t tell Kam that, did you?” Deeks imagined the youngest Hanna would show just how terrifying she could be if pushed.

“Oh hell no. She’d never let me out of her sight again.”

“Sounds about right. So, when do you go back to the office?” Deeks asked. He grabbed a couple glasses and filled them with iced tea from the fridge, handing one to Sam.

“A couple more weeks. Kilbride is making me take the full medical leave before he’ll discuss anything with me,” Sam explained. “I’ve had some offers from other agencies. I’m gonna see what all my options are before I make any decisions.”

A frisson of guilt ran through Deeks at the reminder that Sam had essentially given up his career for him. He pushed it down, knowing that Sam had know interest in apologies or pity.

“I think I’d like to do something involving teaching. Maybe I’ll look into becoming an adjunct law professor. Or maybe they’ll let me back into FLETC,” Deeks said.

“Either one would be lucky to have you,” Sam told him, then offered a teasing smirk. “Though I’m not sure some of us are brave enough to take on any recruits you’d train. The legal debates alone would be ridiculous.”

“Oh, for sure. It would be a requirement.” Chuckling along with Sam, Deeks traced a bead of condensation sliding down the side of his glass. . “I know you keep saying it’s not necessary, but I appreciate everything you’ve given up for me,” he said. “You’ve literally given me a second change at life.”

Sam accepted the words with a nod and a gentle smile.

“That’s what brothers do for each other.”

“To brothers,” Deeks echoed, holding up his half-empty glass. Sam clinked their glasses together.

[spectrestardust]

So, 2022 was the year I finally watched Ted Lasso. And I have a lot of feelings and nowhere to put them, so I’ll just leave them here.

There were 3 shows this year that made me cry like never before. Two of them were comedies, and one of them was Ted Lasso. Honestly, I don’t know why it took me so long to watch it. Besides the love I have for Jason Sudeikis, football has always been (and I think it will always be) a big part of my life. As a kid, my favourite cartoons were about football. I spent hours playing alone against the wall. In school, I played in every free period I had. Even though I wasn’t very good, it made me truly happy, made me feel a part of something. And all the love I had for the game was because of my dad. Watching matches together was the way we bonded. Some of my fondest childhood memories are us sitting in front of the tv, cheering for our favorite team. As the years went by, some of the interest faded, but I still follow the games and the teams with some enthusiasm.

In November of last year, I thought to myself I wanna see what the fuss is all about.

I was not expecting being so blown away by how good the show is. The writing is truly incredible and smart. I had high hopes for it because, after all, it was a Emmy winning show. But it surpassed all of my expectations. Every character arc is so well thought out. Every episode has little details and quips that, on a rewatch, make you go like uh (like Roy knowing the words to “Let it Go”). And the amazing chemistry between the actors pays off in all the character dynamics of the show: Keeley and Rebecca, Keeley and Roy, Rebecca and Higgings, The Diamond Dogs, Roy and Jamie, Ted and Beard, Ted and EVERYONE … even Roy and Beard have their I’m glad we don’t have to talk thing.

Entering spoiler territory (sorry), I have to highlight the moments that made me FEEL:

Ted’s therapy sessions with Dr. Sharon, especially the one he talks about his father, intercut with Rebecca talking about hers.

When Roy marches over to Jamie and hugs him, while Beware of the Darkness by George Harrison plays (some very ugly crying happened after that one, still can’t watch it without tearing up)

When Rebecca sings at her father’s funeral

Roy running to the Richmond match

Nate’s ultimate betrayal and confronting Ted

Roy to Phoebe: “I’ve been infecting you with the worst parts of me”

Jamie supporting Sam, covering up the dubai air logo

Roy headbutting Jamie and then hugging him to celebrate the team’s promotion

And honestly, I could go on and on. That’s how good this show is. It made me feel the same things I felt when played as a kid, or when I watch a very good match. Seeing Richmond win reminded me of the joy that is to share a victory with friends or family. Seeing them support each other gave me the same goosebumps I get when I see players of different teams help each other.

But it also taught so much more. It taught me that the sadness that comes with losing is never final, not as long as you have someone to share it with. It reminded me that, sometimes, no matter how much you try, things still don’t go your way. And that’s okay. But you have to keep going. Either you try again, or you try something new. But you keep going. And you ask for help. And maybe the ones you least expected are going to be there, helping you to keep going.

I talked about this show with my dad. Since he was the one who got me into football, it was only fair I introduced him to Ted Lasso. So we watched it together at dinner time during the holidays. Most days, he was the one asking about it. And I caught him almost crying during some of the scenes I listed above. I found us bonding over Ted Lasso like we used to bond over football. I felt I was a kid again, sitting in front of the tv on a saturday afternoon, watching my favourite team.

I know it’s a long post, and I had so much more to say, but I just truly and wholeheartedly love this show. Can’t wait for season 3.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 255

We Happy Few/The Zygon Inversion

“We Happy Few”

Plot Description: god reveals to Lucifer why he was chosen to bear the Mark. The Winchesters team up with angels, demons, and witches in an attempt to seal away Amara

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: No one died

I can’t blame Lucifer for acting similarly to an angst teen and telling everyone in this room “screw you.” Omg literally though!!! “If dad has something to say to me, I’ll hear it from him. Til then I’ll be in my room”

Crowley’s having a hard time rallying the troops after the character assassination he’s undergone in the last few seasons

of COURSE god won’t just apologize to Lucifer 🙄

Who are the Winchesters to facilitate this family therapy session??

*crying in why couldn’t horikoshi have given me a scene like this???*

No. Dean. That’s TERRIBLE advice “and the thing about apologies is you don’t have to mean them. I tell Sam I’m sorry all the time when I’m not…..sorry. Eh? See?”

I’m so team lucifer here. (No but if LITERAL GOD can give a sincere and specific apology to his son who HE favored and then abandoned, WHY CAN’T ENDEAVOR?)

This “getting the team together to defeat Amara” scene is a little hokey but I guess you gotta do it

…if Lucifer accepts god’s apology and they’re square, what are we gonna do for FOUR MORE SEASONS?!

You have god on your side, but do you have ANIME? Because I think you need both

Ah, RIP, Donatello

Why is god flirting with Rowena?! Lmao

Man…truly the way women get treated in this show is atrocious. None of the guys have any scratches but the women

Oh good. A little tit for tat. Amara may have just killed god. So I guess that might be part of my answer to “what do we do for four more seasons?” The Winchesters got tossed around, and it looks like Lucifer got banished out of Cas

Ok…so he’s not dead YET but only because Amara wants to let him watch her destroy all of creation first

“The Zygon Inversion”

Plot Description: with UNIT incapacitated, only the Doctor stands in the way of the Zygons

Day 8 of asking for one self-contained story. I know I won’t get it today, but maybe tomorrow…

Why is this some…alternate universe Clara being called upon??

Oh…she’s doing they from within the pod the Zygons have her in

Osgood telling the Doctor how she’d kill him if she were Zygon Clara BECAUSE she’s such a big fan of his is very funny

Yeah…there’s no way Clara knows what the Osgood Box is. So not only will Zygon Clara have a hard time finding anything in Clara’s mind, given everything in her past, she’ll HAVE to keep Clara alive

Truly feel like this could have been one episode…there’s so much dumb extra stuff

It seems so obvious now that there would be two Osgood boxes…and actually there are two buttons in each box, so you can understand how frustrated Zygon Clara is

Twelve has some really good speeches, and this one trying to stop the war between humans and zygons is no different

Surprise surprise, they stopped the war

[dycefic]

Have An Evil Day

No prompt this time, just a sequel to ‘Welcome To Evil-Mart’

Working at Evil-Mart is usually… well, it’s retail. It’s physically exhausting, you have to deal with a lot of idiots without being overtly rude, and your feet hurt. Even though the hours and pay are very good, the benefits are great, and our bosses treat us well compared to most retail employees, it’s still not what I’d call a fun job.

But it’s not what I’d call dull, either. Especially not on days like today.

I was promoted to supervisor after the Food Poisoning Incident, so I have a little more authority and a little less obligation to be pleasant and I got issued a weighted cosh because sometimes Evil-Mart customers get… feisty. I’d never had to use it, though, because those who hadn’t seen what I did to Majority Rules, either in person or on one of the cell-phone videos that circulated afterwards, had at least heard about it.  They didn’t give me any trouble.

I was halfway through my shift, and the worst things that’d happened had been running out of croissants and a machine oil spill in Aisle Seven, when our greeter pressed the alarm button, which sent an alert to my handset. As front-end supervisor, that meant me, so I went over. Sam, who is unusual in the henching community for having actually aged out rather than ‘being retired’ jerked his chin in the direction of a tall, swaggering figure. “He just came in,” he whispered.

I did a full double-take before I took it in. Superdyne. Fucking Superdyne.

We’d all heard about his dramatic heel-turn a couple of months ago. The whole world had heard about it. Superdyne, who’d skated closer and closer to the line for years, had decided to cross it in a blaze of bloodshed. He was a villain now, he said. There’d been a whole speech about how ingratitude had driven him to it blah blah blah.

I work at Evil-Mart. I’m from a hench family. If someone becomes a supervillain because they hate Mondays or want to turn us all into dinosaurs or whatever, I don’t judge. I will sell depth-charges and laser guns to anyone who can prove they’re over eighteen without hesitation. But even we get kind of grossed out by the ‘I am forced to turn evil because I haven’t been given enough love’ thing. People who are actually so fucked up by emotional abuse or neglect or some superhero killing their family, we’re fine with them. But they don’t say that’s why they do it, and most of them need a lot of therapy to even realize it. People who actually say that’s why are entitled dickwads.

And now the dickwad had walked into Evil-Mart like he was entitled. Like he thought he was one of us.

“Lockdown protocols,” I told Sam quietly. “On my authorisation.” That takes a minute or two, though, so I went over to talk to Superdyne. “Sir, I have to ask how you even knew where to find this place.”

He smirked at me. “I have my ways,” he said smugly. He’d either bribed or beaten someone, that was my guess. “So this is where the villains shop? We all thought you went to Wal-Mart.” He laughed, like he thought it was clever.

“Yes, so you all say,” I said dryly. I didn’t feel like pretending he was the first person to make the bad joke. “My next question, sir, is what made you think it was a good idea to come in here.”

He spread his hands. “I’m one of you now!” he said happily. “I’m a bad guy! So now I guess I shop where the bad guys shop!” He looked around, frowning a little. “Although I was expecting more weapons and explosives. A… more villainous atmosphere. I didn’t know Evil-Mart had fresh produce.”

“I don’t advise buying herbs here unless you’re a magical practitioner. Some of them have… unusual effects.” A lot of our produce is normal stuff, but some of it not only isn’t legal, it doesn’t exist anywhere else.

“Oh. Well, that makes sense. But the bright lights and the bakery?”

“We have excellent gluten-free breads. In many ways, Superdyne, this is just another store. We have sales, we mark down the breads in the afternoon, we even have a PA system.” I pulled out my handset, and thumbed the button that tied it to the PA. “Attention, shoppers,” I said in my most soothing Customer Service voice, which made him grin. “Evil-Mart wishes to inform you – “ The countdown on my handset reached zero, and I turned to look at the entrance as a huge blast door thudded down. That was the last part of the sequence – staff outside the area were already in lockdown and security were on their way. I smiled, and continued almost without a pause. “- That we are in lockdown at this time, due to the presence of Superdyne in the store. Please remain calm, and be advised that security are on their way to deal with the problem. If you have a personal grudge that you wish to address with Superdyne at this time, he is standing near Register Six with a stupid expression on his face.”

He was staring at me, stunned. “But… but…” he stammered, and damned if he didn’t look puzzled. “But I’m one of you now!”

“No,” I said flatly. “You were always evil, that’s true, but you’ll never be one of us. And for the record, I’m one of the people with a personal grudge. All those henchmen you’ve killed and maimed had families, asshole… and they all shop here.”

He swung at me, then, but I spent years in hench training. Even someone super-strong can be dodged, and once I slammed my cosh into his groin a few times his punches got a lot more aimless. Around then, Tiger Ty came over the register, claws out and snarling, and I figured I should stand out of the way.

About ten minutes later, I turned on the PA again. “Clean-up to Register Six,” I called, in the same special voice. “Category 7, class three. Shoppers, please be advised that lockdown is now lifted but Register Six will be closed until clean-up is completed.”

Hunter, who’d been working Register Six, came out from underneath it. He looked a little green. Well, he was still in his teens, this was probably his first fatal mobbing. “What’s Category 7?” he asked in a shaky voice. “I haven’t heard that before.”

“Biohazard.”

“Oh. Class three?”

“Send three people. He was a juicy one.” I stepped away from a spreading puddle of blood. “Run and get a couple of caution signs we can put around this mess.” I eyed it measuringly. “And one of those fifteen-gallon plastic tubs with a lid, I’ll damage it out.”

He eyed the mess. “Are you sure that’s big enough?”

“Yeah, the average human is only about seventeen gallons by volume, and I’m not going to put all the blood and mush in there, just the big pieces.”

He gulped. “Ah. Yes, ma’am.”

I called after him when he ran off. “One of the black tubs, not a clear one!” Which honestly should only be common sense, but you can’t count on a flustered teenager to have common sense.

We frown on killing customers at Evil-Mart, up to a point… but when a particularly murderous super-hero walks into our store, well, that’s something else. I’d have to fill out a ton of paperwork, though.

I had to chase off one of Doctor Malign’s minons and two members of the Genetic Reign before the clean-up crew arrived, both of whom urgently wanted samples. In the end I scraped a few pieces of liver and unidentified organ into two of the bags we use for possibly-contaminated money just to make them go away. (They’re good customers, and it was just going to go in the trash anyway.)

By the time the clean-up was done, all the big pieces were boxed up, and I’d finished the paperwork, my shift had been over for twenty minutes, and I’d been asked to come up to the boss’s office.

“Listen, I have no issues with how you handled the situation, I want you to know that.” Mr Trent leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingertips together. “It was quick, it was efficient, and… given your personal history with Superdyne, not to mention mine and that of half of our customer base… richly deserved.”

“Yes, sir,” I said. It came out too meek, and I cleared my throat and straightened up. It’s hard not to be intimidated by Mr Trent, when you’re in the same room with him. It’s not his fault, and he does his best, but even under the strictest control his fear-inducing powers tend to unsettle anyone who gets too close. We all know he’s not doing it on purpose and we try not to show our reactions. “Do you have any orders regarding the remains?”

“Doctor Order wants them.” He rubbed his chin. “Get someone from the pharmacy to prepare samples for him, please, including brain tissue. He’s our primary supplier, and we can’t offend him. As for the rest… as you know, I’m retired, and I don’t usually participate in the Endless War.” One of his hands dropped to his left thigh. His prosthetic leg is some of Doctor Order’s best work, but the injury that led to his retirement had been brutal even by our standards. “But this is different. Superdyne came here. To our place of safety. We need to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

I nodded. “Do you want the remains dumped somewhere public? Some kind of dramatic display?”

“No. Something more direct.” He rubbed his chin again, then tapped the intercom on his desk. “Iris, please send up Miss Fedorova from Marketing and Mr Levy from the warehouse.”

“Yes, sir,” Iris responded, and he clicked off the intercom again.

“The three of you worked together very well, during the food poisoning incident,” he explained. “And I believe they can assist us in a satisfactory conclusion.” He hesitated, then smiled ruefully. “Perhaps you should wait outside until they get here. I can tell I’m unsettling you.”

“Sir, I know you’re not – “

“Not doing it on purpose.” He sighed. “I do appreciate how hard you all work to make me feel… accepted, I really do. But I’m very annoyed right now, which makes control more difficult for me, so I think we’d both be more relaxed if you waited outside while I do my meditation exercises.”

I waited outside. When the three of us went into his office again, the miasma of low-level fear was definitely a bit lighter, and he smiled. “All right. Now, this conversation is going to be very confidential, and I will remind you all of the agreements you signed when you were employed.” We all chorused agreement, and he nodded. “Good. Now, this is very much a secret, even among Evil-Mart staff, but we do have a few online clients who are… ah… on the other side of the fence.”

Ms Fedorova blinked. “What?”

Knuckles sighed. “We ship to a few heroes,” he explained. “The ones who are… less homo than sapiens, if you get my drift.”

I didn’t, and from her expression Ms Fedorova didn’t either. Mr Trent spread his hands, drawing our eyes to his fingers. Which as a rule nobody looks at, because there’s fourteen of them, with four joints in each finger, and we know he’s self-conscious about it. “The less… purely human ones,” he said quietly. “One of the reasons I created Evil-Mart was to give those who can’t pass for human, like me, a place to be… people. To have dignity. So that the obligate carnivores weren’t reduced to living on pet-food or scavenging for scraps, so that those with complex metabolisms could get the supplements they need so that people who are still people, for all their outward differences, could shop in safety. There are a great many more monsters, demigods, abominations of science and other non-standard persons among our set than among the heroes, and I wanted to meet their needs, as well as selling weapons and Lair-away-from-home sets and so on.”

“And there are a few heroes who order from us for that reason,” Knuckles added. “The ones who can’t get medications to suit their metabolism, or need to eat things that you can’t get easily anywhere else.”

I nodded, because that much I understood. We have some very esoteric ‘dietary supplies’ that start with fresh, healthy, well-treated and disease-free prey animals frozen whole (from mouse up to calf and goat kept in stock, larger sizes by pre-order, halal and kosher certified where possible) and end with human blood (rejected blood bank stock mostly, we have an arrangement), and human flesh and organs (sourced from hospitals, morgues and crematoriums, guaranteed no murder, at least not by us). “Well, I suppose that makes sense. I’m surprised we ship to them, though.”

“Oh, they don’t know we know. It’s all assumed names and secret bank accounts.” Knuckles grinned. “But Mr Trent has all our online customers identified before we ship. And for the ones who don’t have any other options, well… we let it slide.”

“I can see why you don’t want that to get out.” Ms Fedorova tapped her chin. “What does this have to do with disposing of the body? I was planning to set up a really ghoulish display in a public place somewhere, I already have some sketches.” Marketing for Evil-Mart is… well, it includes more than designing our sale flyers.

“No. We’re going to deliver them to a hero… one of the ones who owes us… and make it very clear that just because someone decides to admit he’s a villain, that doesn’t make him one of us and it doesn’t entitle him to union services,” Mr Trent said flatly. “I want to make it crystal clear to all of them that a heel turn does not mean their sins are forgiven, or that we will accept them as anything other than a very brief amusement.”

Late that night – we were all on overtime, but it couldn’t be done in daylight – we wheeled a cart down the run-down hallway of a shoddy apartment building. “This is a terrible address for a hero,” Ms Fedorova muttered. “Are we sure he lives here?”

“I deliver here a couple of times a month.” Knuckles was pushing the cart. “I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Ms Fedorova cleared her throat, coughed once or twice, and suddenly her voice was deeper and her very faint Russian accent was as thick as pea soup. “This is intimidation tactic,” she said, grinning toothily. “Do not act surprised.”

I knocked on the door, but let Knuckles do the talking. “Delivery, Mr West,” he called, using the fake name the guy had been giving.

It worked… the door was unlocked and opened almost immediately. “I scheduled the order for next – “ the mark said, and then we were pushing inside, slamming the door behind us.

“Do not be alarmed, Mr… Dinoid, is it?” Ms Fedorova said, folding her arms. “Evil-Mart is knowing all along your real identity. But you are needing to eat, and we are not turning down regular business, so we make no trouble.”

Knuckles rolled his eyes behind her back at how much she was hamming it up, but I waved a hand. Let her have her fun. So Knuckles started unloading the boxes onto the table while she talked. “First, your Budget Bunny Box. Your favourite, da?” The next box, smaller, plunked down. “Two fresh chickens, halal certified, healthy and having lived good life, gift for good customer.” Knuckles dumped the plastic tub on the floor. “And mortal remains of Superdyne, with note.”

Dinoid was staring at us, but that made him shift into a combat stance, his long claws spread. “The… Superdyne’s dead? And in there?”

“Well. Most of him. The big pieces.” Ms Fedorova shrugged an impressively Russian shrug. I hadn’t even known that was a thing, but when she did it, it was obvious. “You must understand, when a mob tears a man apart, it is hard to find every little piece.”

“I’m pretty sure Doctor Malign and the Genetic Reign took off with doggy bags,” I said, as if I hadn’t handed them over myself. “And Doctor Order probably has some of him too, by now. So looking out for clones would be a good idea, I don’t know if that’s in the note.”

Insofar as that reptilian face could show readable expressions, he looked shocked. “Why on earth would… why? He changed sides? And why did you bring him to me?”

“We know your address, we know you don’t want to turn us in because we’re the only ones who can supply your meals, and our boss wanted us to make this very clear.” I indicated the note. Since Ms Fedorova was hamming up her Sexy Russian Supervillain act, and Knuckles was very obvious Muscle, I figured it was on me to be the Reasonable One. “He might have stopped being a hero, but that didn’t make him one of us. That didn’t make him acceptable to us. Our boss wants it made very clear that your failures shouldn’t expect to be accepted by us… or even spared by us.”

He shifted slowly, the tip of his tail twitching. “I… see. I understand why you would reject Superdyne. He was notorious for killing and maiming people on… your side. But I know other defectors have been accepted. Philomel, for example.”

“Philomel was child of villains. She is young, she is rebellious, she sides with heroes for a while.” Ms Fedorova shrugged. “Is understandable, da? The young do foolish things. She comes home, all is forgiven.”

He nodded slowly. “Tenebrous?”

“That story I don’t know.” Ms Fedorova glanced at me.

I nodded. “Tenebrous was just a kid. He was twelve when Varide recruited him. Nineteen when he broke with the guy. Varide put a kid into combat, left him with massive PTSD, then ditched him when he had a breakdown and went too far. Mx Frantique at least made sure he had a safe place to stay and some therapy.”

“It’s happened a few times.” Knuckles rested his elbows on the cart’s handles, his inhumanly big, strong hands dangling. “But there’s a process. A system. If someone’s sponsored by a villain in good standing, like Frantique sponsoring Tenbrous, they can be accepted. Nobody gets to just choose to join. Especially not a smug, entitled prick like Superdyne.”

Ms Fedorova suddenly leaned forward, scowling. “And why are you called Dinoid? You are not dinosaur. You are clearly monitor lizard. Golden monitor, I think.” She reached out and prodded his arm. “And not healthy, either. Look at colouration! You do not keep environment humid enough. Are having trouble with shedding, da?”

Now we were all staring at her. “You’re a lizard expert now?” Knuckles asked.

She shrugged. “What? Is hobby. Mamma’s little Varanus Acanthurus are pride and joy. Sadly, cannot keep larger monitors in city. Is unkind.”

Dinoid ran a hand over his head slowly. “Not many people realize,” he said slowly. “That’s why I order from you guys. I used to get frozen… food… from a pet supplier, but then I got contacted by someone who told me there was another option.”

“Is good thing. Those pet suppliers, they are rogues. They do not keep animals healthy, can get diseases or mites from those things.” Ms Fedorova sniffed. “I would never buy from them. My babies would get sick.”

He actually chuckled, then, seeming to relax a bit. “You’re not wrong. After… this happened… I got really sick a couple of times before I figured out what to eat, and where to get it. And even the reputable suppliers don’t always have the healthiest stock.” He opened his mouth wide, making a gagging noise. “You have no idea how bad that ‘reptile food’ is. Eating whole animals may be a little disgusting, but it’s nothing to some of that stuff.”

“I believe it,” I said emphatically. “There’s a reason Evil-Mart has such an extensive pet-food line. The horror stories we hear from some of our customers… well, you’d believe it, I bet, but most humans just look confused.”

Knuckles nodded, and spread his hands. “People who can’t pass for regular humans… or even for people, the way most normies see it… are a lot more common on our side of the fence than yours. That’s why we delivered to you. We figured you really needed it.”

“Does he order from the pharmacy?” Ms Fedorova was around behind him now, examining his back. “He is having calcium deficiency, am betting. He needs nutritional supplement.”

“I take a nutritional supplement,” he said defensively.

“The one for normal-sized lizards is not enough for man-sized monitor/human hybrid,” she said firmly. “Check pharmacy section next time. We are having excellent selection of supplements for hybrids, and chart to tell you how much to take for body-mass.”

He looked back and forth between the three of us. “You people are… not what I would have expected from an evil supermarket.”

“We may be… morally challenged,” I said, shrugging, “but we’re not heartless.” I looked around his tiny, shabby apartment. “Unlike some of your lot. I thought you were on a team. Why are you living here?”

He ducked his head. “I couldn’t live at the base,” he said, his tail drooping. “My… I made people uncomfortable. And the stipend isn’t much.”

“Isn’t much? With the merchandising deals they have?” Ms Fedorova sounded shocked, and the accent had dropped back a lot. “I know for a fact that if the accountants ever got hold of their books they’d owe more in back taxes than… well, than Evil-Mart would if our illegal product arm ever got discovered. And we pay our taxes on the legitimate stuff scrupulously.”

Dinoid blinked rapidly, though I couldn’t tell whether he was more surprised by her suddenly dropping her act or the idea that Evil-Mart pays taxes. “You do?”

“Of course. Not under that name, of course, there’s a shell company.” She sniffed. “All villains do. Al Capone, you know. We’re not getting caught that way again.”

Knuckles and I both nodded when he looked at us, and he shook his head. “Huh. Makes sense, I guess.”

“It does.” I looked around again. The place really was crappy. “I know it’s a personal question, Mr… West, but under the circumstances I’d like to know… how much is that stipend?”

He looked down at the floor for a while, then cleared his throat. “Uh. $1100 a month.”

We all stared at him. Ms Fedorova’s mouth fell open. Knuckles looked shocked, and I was horrified. “$1100 a month?!” I asked, my voice coming out louder than I’d intended. “For risking your life on a superhero team?! I have teenaged cashiers working part-time who make more than that!”

He looked almost as startled as we did. “For working a cash register?!”

“Evil-Mart pays pretty good.” Knuckles shrugged. “But that stipend is disgusting.”

“You are being exploited,” Ms Fedorova said, sounding really aghast. “That is terrible. Why, baseline henchman pay is twice that, and there are danger bonuses and…” Her voice dropped suddenly. “You don’t have a union, do you?”

“A union? Of course we don’t have a…” He trailed off. “You mean you do?”

“Of course we do. An extremely well-armed one.” Ms Fedorova folded her arms. “Henchmen And Allied Industries has represented us for generations. The last time a supervillain executed a union henchman for failure, he was boiled in oil… literally. On camera. Oh, of course some of the less reputable villains just pick up small-time trash from the streets, untrained rabble from the gangs and so on, so they can treat them as disposable, but we union members are skilled workers, with rights and protections. I bet you don’t even get overtime.”

“Of course not. Crime happens when it happens, and we have to…” He trailed off. “You guys get overtime?”

“We’re getting double time and a half for this conversation. And an extra day off.”

His eyes widened again. “Really? Wow, that’s… even when I was working a regular job, before this, I didn’t get pay like that.” He looked down at his hands and bared his teeth in what looked like an unhappy expression. “And now I can’t work anything but this kind of job. People don’t like having a scary dinosaur in their restaurant.”

There was a long pause.

“You can cook?” Ms Fedorova asked carefully.

“Yeah. I worked in my parents’ restaurant before… this.” He gestured at himself. “They were killed when we were attacked, and I was… changed.”

We all looked at each other. “After you’ve returned Superdyne’s remains to whoever you consider appropriate,” I said, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down my number, “I’d like you to give me a call. Evil-Mart is always hiring in the bakery and deli, and I mean always. Most bad guys aren’t great cooks. We don’t know why, it just seems to be one of those things.”

“You want me to join the bad guys?”

“I want you to work in a bakery. Villains and henchmen need to eat, and so do their families. Nobody’s going to ask you to rip superheroes in half, just maybe make a sandwich that won’t give anyone food poisoning.”

“That’s a regular concern?”

“Six months ago the three of us ran Evil-Mart’s physical store completely unassisted for most of a day because the only people who weren’t down with food poisoning were the ones who’d had the vegetarian and kosher meals.” I shuddered at the recollection. “Trust me. Someone who can cater staff functions without a major disaster would never have to live in an apartment like this working for us.”

“And we get full benefits, including dental.” Knuckles was shaking his head. “I bet you don’t even get hospital.”

“What hospital would take me? I always figured I’d go to the zoo and talk to the vet if – “

Ms Fedorova actually put her arms around him. “You,” she told him firmly, “are going to resign your terrible exploitative job, and then I will personally sponsor you to the union immediately. I have a spare room. You will like it. Humidity and temperature can be set just how you like, and Mamma Yelena will take you to real doctor expert in health of hybrids.”

“Those exist?” he asked, sounding a bit overwhelmed.

“Yeah, the Genetic Reign has like three of them,” I said sympathetically. “Listen, you can take some time to think it over, but you don’t have to put up with this kind of exploitation just because you don’t look human. Nearly a third of Evil-Mart’s staff can’t pass, and they’re treated just like everyone else.”

Superdyne’s dramatic demise got a lot of news coverage. Apparently it came as a real shock to the ‘good guys’ that there were some monsters even the superest villains wouldn’t embrace.

Dinoid no longer exists. Ismail Jameel works at Evil-Mart, and has expanded our fresh food lines a lot already. He’s a nice guy, and after Ms Fedorova told everyone how disgustingly he’d been exploited by those so-called ‘heroes’, he was welcomed with open arms. Literally, in at least one case – he’s dating someone from the warehouse, I’ve heard, though I don’t know who. He says we should rename the store, because we suck at being evil.

But evil is a really relative term. It can mean the blackest depravity, or a moment of viciousness, or even just ‘people on the other side’. Evil-Mart is called that because everyone, at least everyone on our side, is welcome. Plus, we all think it’s funny that the least-evil megacorporation is called ‘Evil-Mart’. What can we say? Bad guys have a sense of humour too.

Have an evil day!

[certifiedskywalker]

Trouble Doubled - Bucky Barnes

Even after everything, you’re still the person who Bucky Barnes runs to when things go bad. Only now, he brings Sam who fails to hide his grin when he sees how James melts under your touch.

WARNINGS: Blood, stitches, and TFATWS possible spoilers (I think I was vague enough)

“Ouch! That’s going to hurt in the morning!”

“Ha, it hurts now, actually,” Sam grumbled. 

You pressed your lips together to stifle the grin that threatened to spill over them. Unable to help yourself, you glanced at Bucky in the hopes he too was biting back a grin. Stood by the door, slightly shrouded in shadow, you could make out the half smile that played on his lips. Though, his expression quickly melted into a grimace as Sam groaned. Reality quickly crashed back down on your shoulders and you turned back to the man laid on the table.

“You’re not going to like this.” Before Sam could ask what ‘this’ was, you began to palpate his wound. He flinched away from your reach at first, but then settled in the discomfort.

“Mm, yeah, no, that doesn’t feel good, Doc.”

“Not a doctor,” you said, still pressing lightly into the bruised flesh. “And I have to make sure you didn’t crack a rib. Otherwise, you’ll need a doctor.”

“Gotta work on your bedside manner,” Sam said as he winced. You pulled your hands away with a sigh and he met your eyes. “Bad?”

“In the grand scheme of things, no. Just try not to throw yourself off a building for the next few days. Think you guys can manage that?”

“Maybe. Harder to fly without jumping first.” Sam groaned once more as he sat up and the pain seemed to convince him to heed your warning. “We’ll try, Doc.”

You rolled your eyes at him before turning to look at Bucky. Still tucked in the darker corner of the room, he seemed small. His brows were knitted tightly together by worry and you imagined that, if he met your gaze, you would see concern in his eyes. Pushed forward by your own worry, you strode over to him. At your growing closeness, Bucky lifted his eyes to yours.

“Your turn.”

“I’m fine, Y/N.”

Despite his protest, Bucky did not lock himself in place. Instead, he gave in and let you lead him by the arm, over to the table. Sam eyed him with a wide grin as Bucky landed in the same spot he had sat in only moments ago. He mouthed something to the century-old soldier that you caught, but could not make out.

“What happened to taking it easy? You told me after, you know, that you would ease into things.” You gestured to the rags you had used to clean Sam’s more minor wounds; the fabric pieces were now dyed a reddish pink from blood. “That doesn’t seem like easing into it.”

“You didn’t see the other guy,” Sam quipped. 

“I like to think you didn’t leave any of him left,” you fired back as you pinched Bucky’s chin between your forefinger and thumb. “Look at me.”

Bucky did as you told him to and met your gaze. You took a sharp breath in at the sight of him, at how his pupils blew out slightly as you studied his reaction. All at once, the air around you grew thick. This close, you could smell the sweat and ash on his skin, along with hints of whatever air freshener he had in his apartment. 

Was it coconut? Sandalwood? You couldn’t parse out which as you found yourself lost in the blues of Bucky’s eyes. The sound of Sam clearing his throat shook you from your haze.

“No signs of a concussion.”

“Really?” Sam asked, grin still plastered on his face. You raised a brow at him in question before you turned back to Bucky. 

“Why? Did you hit your head?”

“No,” he said, clearly tired of Sam’s commentary, “but if I did, it wouldn’t be a big deal.”

“Super soldier or not, a head wound is a head wound. Can you?” You gestured to his jacket and, with a sigh, Bucky pulled it off his shoulders.

“How do you two know each other again?” Sam asked, glancing around the room. “And why are we in an abandoned building.”

“Hard to trace us back here. Didn’t want to lead them to Y/N’s place,” Bucky said, tossing his jacket to the side. He winced as he did, and then you saw the blood.

“Barnes!" 

With reaching hands, you peeled back the crimson-soaked material of his shirt. Your movement revealed a long gash along his side that, with each breath, sent dribbles of blood to his hip. Sam made a sound of surprise and mild disgust at the sight. You were inclined to agree with another shout, but you were too caught up in how to stop the bleeding.

“Lay back,” you ordered, pressing Bucky’s shoulder. He yielded and you pushed his shirt up to expose the entire length of the wound. “Why didn't you show this to me earlier?!”

“It’s not that bad.”

"You're bleeding," you huffed, "which is pretty indicative of bad, if you ask me. Sam?"

"This is not my battle,” he raised his hands and shook his head. “I know better than to intrude on a lover’s quarrel.”

Neither you nor Bucky spoke up to correct him. In your mind, you came up with a quick excuse: Bucky was bleeding and you needed to focus on stopping it. Sam’s comment could be corrected later. Though, when Bucky didn’t speak up, you felt your chest tighten. As you worked on dressing the gash, you glanced up at him and found his blue eyes trained on you. He was dwelling on your silence too.

You pulled yourself out of the whirlpool of his gaze and reached over his body towards your medical supplies. As you stretched, your chest pressed lightly against Bucky’s, but you swallowed hard and refocused.

“Sorry, need to sow you up.”

Bucky didn’t respond, but he did avert his gaze. He found some spot in the ceiling to stare at instead of you. His distraction allowed you to work without the prickling temptation to sneak glances at his features; for the most part. It was only when Sam moved to stand over at your side you did you look up from Bucky’s wound.

“What?”

“Nothing, just wondering how many times you’ve done this before.” 

A bitter laugh slipped past your lips at his reply. “Too many times to count. If it’s not an Avenger, it’s a masked savior from Hell’s Kitchen. Someone always needs stitched up.”

“But James here is your favorite patient?”

“Sam.” 

Bucky’s tone set you on edge. It was warning, cold, and unlike the teasing you had grown fond of. Sam, knowing better than to piss him off, backed away from the table. You looked from him to Bucky and back again. When Bucky did not dare to meet your gaze, you felt a lump form in your throat. Tension weighed down your tongue, stopped you from saying a word or asking a question, despite your want to. 

“Alright, alright. I’ll leave you be, old man. I’ll check with Torres, see if he has anything.”

Bucky’s eyes remained fixed on the ceiling above you. He was quiet, like the first time you met, and distant. His gaze seemed far away, as if he were looking through the ceiling of this hideaway. After you heard the door of the room close behind Sam, you went back to work on Bucky’s side in silence. 

Carefully, you sowed the gash and tried to keep your hands steady. Every other jab with the needle made Bucky wince. You flinched at his sharp intake of breath and mumbled an apology before you went on to the next stitch. Five apologies later, the bleeding slowed and you gently pressed a crisp, white bandage to safeguard your handiwork. 

Immediately after you secured the gauze, Bucky moved to sit up. Before he could, you pressed on his shoulders again and pinned him in place. Though, you knew you couldn’t have pinned him if he hadn’t let you. Your upper body strength was nothing compared to his, you both knew that.

“Don’t move,” you said softly, “you’ll ruin my work.”

“It’s gonna be hard not to.” Bucky met your gaze and, in the dim light of the room, his eyes looked dark, almost sad. Something in his face, perhaps the dull, yet familiar laughter lines around his mouth or the bags under his eyes, alleviated the tension that had silenced before.

“You told me you wouldn’t. That you would take it easy and focus on making amends.”

Bucky closed his eyes at the disappoint that laced your tone. “I tried. I wanted to, Hell, I need to, but I can’t. I never could.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Bucky began to sit up from the table top, “I’m a soldier. I need the fight.”

You watched as he moved, as your hands slipped from his shoulders and fell back to your sides. He pulled his shirt down over his freshly bandaged wound. When he was covered, Bucky looked back up to you, saw your frown and frowned too.

“Soldiers get to come home,” you pointed out, arms crossed over your chest.

“If they’re lucky. I’ve never been lucky.”

You bit the inside of your cheek at that. He was right. Bucky told you his story once before, after a therapy session left him feeling a bit more dry than high. He told you that he couldn’t tell you everything, that he wouldn’t. He didn’t have to, but you still hoped for him.

“Luck can change.”

Bucky scoffed as he pushed himself to his feet. Now, at his full height, he towered slightly over you. Despite his looming figure, Bucky did not scare you. Even when he told you his story, what he had done, Bucky did not scare you. 

“Yeah, well, luck, or fate, or whatever, brought me to you and here we are,” he gestured to the dusty dwelling around you. You looked around with a careful eye before you playfully shrugged. 

“I’ve been in worse dives.” Bucky chuckled, a unforced sound that rose up from his chest against his will. “Really, I have.”

“I don’t doubt it. But we put you in danger, asking for your help here. I put you in danger.”

“Oh, are you serious?” You threw your hands up in the air, “there’s always going to be danger in this world. Aliens, war, bad luck.”

“I wanted to keep you safe,” he pressed, taking a step towards you. 

You could smell the perfume of the air freshener again, how it clung to his clothes. It distracted you, threw you into thoughts of what his apartment looked like, if he would ever share that part of him with you or if he would keep it locked away with his full story. You bit your tongue to keep yourself from asking, from wasting your breath on a question he wouldn’t answer. His words would have to be enough for you and, as if on cue, Bucky echoed his sentiment. 

“I wanted to keep you safe.”

“How noble, wanting to keep me safe, Barnes. Just me?” 

Silence was your immediate answer. Silence and Bucky’s full attention. You didn’t miss how his eyes flickered down from yours to your lips then back again.

“Just you.”

In the quiet that followed Bucky’s statement, you became frighteningly aware of your heartbeat again. It wasn’t pounding like before, but it felt loud, like it was pressing against your ribcage, begging to leap out and into Bucky’s arms. As if propelled by it, you found yourself leaning in towards his warmth just as he seemed to shrink away.

Before he was out of reach, you lifted your hands to his face and cupped his jaw. Stubble prickled your fingers and palm, though you were far too enraptured to care.

“Then stay alive,” you said softly, “change your luck and come home.”

In your mind, you did not picture Bucky’s home as his mystery apartment. Instead, you saw only this moment captured by some invisible third party. You saw home as just the two of you and the image made you heart beat a bit faster. 

“I’ll try.”

“Good.” 

For a moment, the two of you just stared at each other, stewed in the new, easier tension between you. But then your resolve broke and you lips broke into a smile. Bucky mirrored your expression, a lopsided grin resting comfortably along his features. His eyes fell to the floor between you before he looked back into your face.

“Can...can I kiss y-”

“Yes, Barnes, please.”

Without wasting another second, Bucky leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. Your hands slipped from his jaw to the back of his head where your fingers tangled in the soft strands of his brown hair. One of his hands found your waist and pulled you close to him, while the other cupped your jaw. In sync, his mouth moved against yours and everything around you melted away.

No more wonderings or mystery. It was only you and Bucky, come danger, trouble, or bad luck; and Sam who lingered outside the door.

[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

BANG (Steve Rogers X Male!Reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers X Male!reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: PTSD, Mention of shootings and death, mention of major injuries

Request: So umm... Steve rogers x male reader in his like twentys who was in the war and has a little bit of PTSD. Anyway the R is with steve and they see a fight or someone with a gun or something and R has a panic attack and it's all fluffy?

Steve couldn’t exactly remember the last time he’d had a day off work, and had spent it enjoying himself in the company of people he cared about. He’d been to parties, after work drinks, movies nights, but never an actual full day. The last time was probably pre-war, before he was given the serum. For him, this made today extra special. A full day off with someone incredibly special to him. You.

Steve had only met you a few months ago at a group therapy session for veterans that Sam had recommended to him, even going with him for that first session, and it was there where he met you. Steve felt he stood out because- well, he was Captain America. You stood out as well, because you were the youngest person in the room. Everyone else's ages were in the 30’s and above, but you were in your 20’s still. As people started passing around their stories, talking about what led them to being in that room, he learnt your story.

You’d joined the army fresh out of high school to support your family and to make them proud. You’d been in the field, made some good friends, got comfortable, and it all seemed that you had found your calling and you were gonna stay in for as long as possible. However, a normal patrol went all the way south, resulting in your entire squad being shot dead, and you only surviving purely by the luck of none of the bullets hitting you anywhere vital, and managing to hide your pain and playing dead until they left. The damage done to you physically and mentally immediately made you be honourably discharged, and led you where you were now- trying to get your life together, and hoping to find a support system and some friends in this group. And you did, because as soon as the session ended and everyone started to grab their things, Steve walked over to you and asked where abouts you were located, and if you wanted to meet up with him on a later date, which you agreed to. 

You’d had a few small dates together, usually on his breaks or later in the day after work, but today was a full day together, just the two of you, enjoying each other’s company. The day had started out sort of how your dates usually went- meeting at the coffee shop right between both of your places, a good place to meet up and the coffee was decent as well. After that, you went for a walk around the city, visited a park, saw a movie, got dinner, and then decided to go back to yours to watch an older film that you’d been talking about for a while that you wanted to show him, and Steve wanted to get the references finally. 

“Make yourself at home, I’ll get the popcorn in the microwave- do you want a drink?” You asked, dashing off to the kitchen in your little apartment, leaving Steve to look around the room. You had photos of family on the wall between the two windows in your living room, above where your couch was pressed against the wall, facing the television on the same wall as the front door. It was a small space, but since it was only meant to be for you, it made sense, and when you’ve spent time in a cramped barracks with other soldiers, big spaces feel almost dangerous. Steve pulled himself away from his examination to follow you into the tiny kitchen to look at his options for drinks. “Help yourself to anything.” You offered, opening the fridge to him to see in before going into your cupboards to grab a bowl for the popcorn. “How about some other snacks? I have some in that cupboard next to the fridge.” You told him, before going to check the space yourself for anything you wanted yourself.

BANG. 

The sound immediately had Steve’s attention. It sounded distant, outside, maybe 50 feet or so away, but no further, definitely on the street. There was silence for a moment, though Steve’s attention stayed focused outside the kitchen, stood straight and alert. 

BANG

Another one, but this one was quickly followed by several others. Steve lost count, but there was at least 5. It was a distinctive sound that not many things could replicate, and one of the things that could make that exact sound was a gun. Gunfire. 

Steve’s years of training kicked in, and he immediately went to investigate the sounds. He wanted to check out the window first, see if he could get any visuals before even attempting to leave the complex to ensure it’s safe, but he only got to the doorway of the kitchen before another round were unleashed, and he felt hands on his shoulder, pulling him down to the floor, and back into the kitchen. Steve looked back at you, and he was immediately aware of something. While he’d had an immediate response due to his training, you were having an immediate response due to your trauma. You heard gunshots, and your mind was immediately brought back to that patrol that took you out of action and killed your friends. Your eyes were wide, fumbling, trying to pull Steve to the corner of the kitchen to hide, to keep him safe, to keep him alive. However, by simply stabling himself he was able to fight back. “Y/N. Y/N look at me.” He spoke to you, holding onto you to stop you moving. “It’s alright. I’m not gonna go far, I’ll stay away from the windows. Stay here.” He instructed firmly but quietly. 

“No- you- I can’t lose you-”

“Y/N. We’re safe here. The door’s locked, we’re high up, I’ll turn the lights off, they won’t see me. It will be 15 seconds, I promise. Count to 15.” He told you. You seemed to somewhat be able to gather yourself, at least a little bit, as you shut your eyes, and he saw your lips move, starting to count down. Steve removed himself from you, remaining as low as he could as he moved swiftly out of the kitchen, heading over to the light switch, and turned off the lights, before heading towards the window. He glanced outside at an angle, looking for anything, and then there were more bangs. He heard you whimper from the other room, but he also got answers. As he looked at the street below, he saw people. Teenagers. With fireworks, running down the street, shooting them up at the sky and down the street. Stupid kids messing around with things they shouldn’t have, but it was better than active shooters. With that, Steve stood up, and walked back to the kitchen, finding you with your hands over your ears, still counting down, but noticeably more stressed than when he left you as you got closer to zero. Steve knelt down, putting a hand on your shoulder, and you stopped counting down, and looked up at him. “It’s fireworks. Kids with fireworks. It’s safe” 

“Fireworks? Are you sure?” You asked. Steve nodded, taking your hand, leading you out the kitchen in time to see the night sky outside light up with colour as more fireworks went off, and the distant sound of the kids laughing was heard, as well as a car alarm. You took a shaky breath in and out, before deflating. Steve put an arm around you, almost worried you were gonna pass out, yet you somehow managed to stay up. 

“I… I thought I was getting better. I thought I’d be able to tell the difference between a gun and fireworks.” 

“I thought it was a gun as well.” Steve assured you, walking you over to the couch to sit down. “It happens to all of us. It happens to me a lot. You don’t know something’s gonna set you off until it happens sometimes. It’s not your fault.” He reminded you. He knew exactly what you were feeling- of course he did. He also knew the best way to get over these incidents- instead of lingering, it was easier to move onto what you were planning to do. Not to forget it happened and pretend it’s not there, but to not draw more attention to this thing you can’t fix then and there, making it a minor blip rather than a day ruiner. “I’ll go get that popcorn. You get the film ready.” Steve told you, heading back to the kitchen, before pausing and turning and leaning back to see you. “Hey.” He called, and you looked over at him. “What drink do you want?” The question, a mimic of your earlier question, got you to crack a smile, before Steve disappeared into the kitchen.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in! 

*Not my gif

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[bottoms-movie]

SAMBUCKY FIC RECS

so a lot of people seemed interested this so here it is! if ya’ll like this, i can make more parts! this is split into three categories: based on tfatws, canon divergence, and au. all fics are on ao3. all of the fics are complete. some fics do include smut, but i included the ratings, so make sure to check for that based on preferences!

also, feel free to send me asks on your thoughts on any fics or if you’re interested in another sambucky fic rec post!

BASED ON TFATWS

Fill the Hole in my Heart | Not Rated | 4,848 words

Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

Skip, Reverse | Explicit | 7,945 words

Sam stood in the middle of their local Target with a throw pillow in each hand. The one in his left hand was butter-soft and matched the drapes in the living room, but Bucky had walked by five seconds ago and declared the one on the right “absolutely fucking hideous,” and so now Sam kind of wanted it more than he had ever wanted anything.

Sometimes romance is just bickering with your superhero partner/roommate at several different Target locations.

just won’t do right | General | 7,524 words

Sam's eyebrows go up, impressed, and he reaches over to squeeze Torres' shoulder, "This is amazing, kid. Thanks, really."

Bucky sits and watches in utter horror as the pink darkens on Torres' cheeks.

Oh, he realizes. Oh. Fuck.

body language will do the trick | Explicit | 12,598 words

“There’s no way you’re going to win this,” Bucky tells Sam. “I am going to love language the shit out of you.”

Sam gives him a considering look. “You do seem like you’d be really good at that.”

Bucky’s cheeks flush with heat. “Thanks, pal, I—”

Sam smirks, and Bucky’s eyes narrow. He shoves his elbow into Sam’s side and stalks off, leaving Sam cackling behind him.

“Your ass looks great today!” Sam yells.

Bucky reaches up to flip Sam the bird, and he definitely does not feel grateful that he wore his good jeans today. Bucky’s ass looks great every day.

checklist | General | 4,716 words

Bucky Barnes keeps a mental checklist of things he knows to be true at any given moment. Sometimes the checklist changes, because he's learned something else about himself. It changes, for example, when he starts realizing that maybe he would like to kiss Sam Wilson. Maybe.

best laid plans | 3 parts | 26,808 words

part 1: baby you’re the wave and I’m ready for the crash | Explicit | 6,616 words

Nah, my plan’s better,” Sam declares, before clapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, what plan? Was that a plan? It didn’t sound like a plan to me, it sounded like a vague intention,” says Bucky, still scowling, and Sam grins.

“We’re winging it, the plan is a work in progress! Now c’mon, we gotta make some wardrobe adjustments if we’re gonna get into that club.”

Sam and Bucky have some unorthodox methods of going undercover in a club.

He Doesn’t Deserve You! | Teen | 5,154 words

Sam and Bucky have an argument that results in Bucky being left at the bar. A group of drunk strangers assumes Bucky just got dumped and quickly adopt him for the night to make him feel better.

Reconstitution | Not Rated | 10,228 words

“I didn’t back Steve on the Sokovia Accords,” Sam says unprompted one day. They’re so close to apprehending the Flagsmashers and wrapping up this ridiculous saga.

“I don’t follow,” Bucky says.

“I was the one who refused to sign it first. Not Steve.”

Sam says it so softly that Bucky has to strain to hear him. Sam is loud and chatty and half the time he keeps up a constant stream of chatter just to get on Bucky’s nerves, but Bucky’s coming to realize that when he really wants to make himself heard, he’s soft spoken and mild. Bucky doesn’t entirely follow his train of thought, though.

Or: a breaking down, remaking, and coming back stronger than ever before

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) | Explicit | 10,136 words

Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

His Touch | Mature | 1,006 words

When Baron Zemo touched Bucky’s face, Sam Wilson saw red.

Bucky just wants Sam to comfort him.

rusted | Teen | 2,358 words

Bucky doesn’t grace him with a sound of acknowledgement. He’s been quiet, ever since that night with Zemo. Well. Quieter. It’s almost like. Every time he opens his mouth, he’s half-expecting the Winter Soldier to come out.

He hasn’t, yet. Won’t, ever again. Not unbidden. Sam’s sure of that. Bucky, not so much.

‘You busy?’

‘’m scouring the—’

‘Good,’ Sam cuts the idiot off, ‘I need you to help me shave.’

advanced therapy methods for large adult men | 2 parts | 11,717 words

part 1: The Gottman Method for Dealing with Conflict | Mature | 4,187 words

Bucky and Dr. Raynor have a follow-up session and two entirely different conversations about his relationship status.

Or: Let's do more couples therapy, James.

it’s always Bucky’s Fault | 3 parts | 20,089 words

part 1: Did you see it? | Explicit | 3,905 words

In which there's supposedly a viral video of the Winter Soldier on his knees sucking off Captain America.

Everything is, like always, completely Bucky's fault.

CANON DIVERGENCE

Even in the Present (I Am Living in the Past) | Teen | 16,977 words

Sometimes Sam still questions everything about his ability to shoulder the 80-year legacy he now bears. His history, and the history of his loss, sticks with him and even in healing he doubts whether or not he is able to fulfil his purpose, and whether he may find lasting peace and happiness.

Told in fluid-fragments, the story moves between his therapy sessions after his return from active duty and the post-Endgame present.

You never forget your first | Teen | 3,650 words

The story of Bucky and Sam getting together in a series of firsts.

leftovers | Mature | 19,249 words

With the New Avengers up and running, Sam finally has time to start dating again. Unfortunately, it's not going as well as he'd hoped.

Partners | Explicit | 7,235 words

Sam's not sure if he can be Captain America. He's not a supersoldier. He can't throw the shield. He's just a dude.

And Bucky Barnes is just a nuisance, albeit a pretty good-looking one.

I’ll explain everything to the geese | Explicit | 50,949 words

Bucky is so competent that it hurts my feelings is not a rational complaint to have about a person, and yet, after a year of being Captain America and partnering up with Bucky for the new and improved, post-Blip Avengers, that’s kinda how Sam’s feeling.

It’s not great. It maybe leads to Sam making some rash, ill-advised decisions like claiming he has a previously undisclosed superpower, and then getting caught in a web of lies when he ends up actually developing that surprisingly inconvenient superpower. Talking to birds had seemed like a harmless superpower, but it turns out that birds have a lot of opinions, and they don’t hesitate to tell Sam about them, especially when it comes to his supposedly subpar courting skills. Which is ridiculous, because Sam isn’t courting Bucky. Right?

Night Swimming | Teen | 2,056 words

“Come on. The princess has a new arm for you and I gotta see if there’s a barber around here willing to tackle your…” Sam waved a hand at Bucky’s face.

“I don’t want a new arm,” Bucky immediately bit out.

And then -

“I can cut my own damn hair.”

Sam just raised both eyebrows. Crossed his arms over his chest again.

Dared Bucky to prove him wrong.

AU

Cpvert Coffee & Flirtation Specialist | General | 5,542 words

The reporter says "—for Captain America to—"

And Bucky rolls his eyes. "Oh, here we go."

Sam looks at him then tips his head sideways, got a weird grin on his face. "Not a fan?"

"Not that. Just… the guy seems too good to be true, right? Wings and a shield?? Come on."

"Uh, is that why your eyes are like glued to the screen whenever he's on?" Kate says. "Is that why you call him Captain Tight Ass?"

"He's a goddamn show-off, and you know it. Tight ass or not."

Just then Sam snorts, real loud, grabs his coffee and suffers a horribly controlled laugh on his way out the door.

Stolen Moments | Teen | 98,767 words

“No,” Sam said, chuckling. “I don’t cheat,” he swept his gaze up and down James’ body, “even with guys who look like you. But, I’m bored and a little pissed, so if you wanna sit here and shoot the shit ‘til my man shows back up, I’m game.”

Never one to back to back down from a challenge - especially a challenge who looked like Sam Wilson - Bucky took another swig from his bottle and replied, “Sure, doll. I’ve got nothing but time.”

Steve has Sam. Bucky wants Sam. Sam wasn’t expecting any of this.

Such a Whirlwind Since I Saw You | Teen | 10,871 words

The Men of Letters turned Bucky Barnes into a weapon. Hunters Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanov are determined to save him, but they're going to need Sam Wilson's help.

“So you want me to ditch work, drive across America with you until you find your friend, who you thought was dead - all while avoiding some high-tech hunters who are out for blood?” Sam is asking.

Steve shrugs a shoulder, looking a little sheepish. Natasha almost laughs at the dry tone of Sam’s voice, but he's not wrong.

You Got What I Need? | Explicit | 37,588 words

Sam and Bucky are both in a bind, professionally. Nat points out a solution that neither men like. To save their careers they play along or rather, stop playing all together.

[wenellyb]

I don't know how to explain this but TFATWS reads a lot like “yes Sam and Bucky are romantically involved but this is not a romance so we won't delve into their relationship”.

If you think about it, in Marvel movies, the romance is not at the center of the plot. Even in solo movies, there is usually just one kiss, never more. And it the Avengers, there are usually no kissed between the couples. 

I'm trying to stay away my shipper googles but even then, some scenes don't make sense to me. I love watching movies and TV shows and one thing I like is that dialogues are not put there randomly, the script has a meaning, the words have a meaning, and the scenes they decide to keep have a meaning.

And for some of the Sambucky scenes in TFATWS,  I’m struggling to find any other meaning than “Sam and Bucky had feelings for eachother at some point”.

You can argue that jokes about the 2 partners being more than just friends is a recurring joke in a lot of buddy cop movies, but in those movies, it is usually a joke, just for laughs. The only scenes that would fall into that category in the FATWS are the rolling in the flower field scene and the therapy lesson scene where Sam and Bucky get so close that there legs are intertwined. 

All the other scenes are so emotionally heavy it's difficult to categorize them as only fanservice, or two guys being friends. I'm not saying they aren't any emotional scenes in buddy cop movies, but usually the emotional scenes don't go as deep as what we've seen  in the Falcon and the Winter Soldier. 

I tried to look at all their scenes together and split them into different categories, and I stilll end up with some scenes that point to a relationship that goes beyond friendship between Sam and Bucky:

Scenes that fall into the fanservice category and there just for laughs:

The bickering about wizards and sorcerers in episode 2

The rolling in the flower field scene and the beginning of the therapy scene.

Sam asking Bucky to do something when the Dora Milaje are attacking John Walker in episode 4

Scenes that can be seen as purely friendship:

In episode 2:

 Bucky deciding to follow Sam because I quote  "he doesn't trust Redwing". What is that even supposed to mean? ... He probably meant I don't trust Redwing to protect Sam like he would.

Bucky standing up from the stack where he was sitting on, to go sit next to Sam when they were on the flight back from their mission. 

Sam waiting for Bucky in the police station, even though they try to act as if they're not friends

Sam agreeing to go see Zemo with little to no protest

In episode 3:

Sam making sure Bucky is alright and asking him if he's ok

Sam touching Bucky's metal arm when he’s pretending to be the Winter Soldier

In episode 4:

Bucky saying "I'm going with you" when Sam says Karli wants to meet with him alone.

In episode 5:

The shield practice scene when they have a heart-to-heart talk in episode 5 about what the shield meant for Bucky and Bucky finally apologizing for the way he treated Sam and explaining how as a White man he couldn't possibly know what it would mean for Sam to be Captain America

Sam asking if Bucky is ready for some tough love.

Scenes that make no sense if we see their relations as just friendship:

In episode 2: 

The therapist said she heard a lot about Sam, she wants Sam to stay for the therapy for I don't know what reason, she makes them do a couple exercise, and says it explicitly.

Why would the therapist say she heard a lot about about Sam, that she want to do a couples exercise with them? Those scenes alone are alright, but when you take them together it's quite interesting. 

The couples therapy trope has been used in a lot of Buddy cop movies or TV shows, but usually they don't delve into sensitive topics like they did in TFATWS, the scene was so emotional for a few seconds, I forgot it was a Marvel show.

In episode 3:

When Bucky tells Sam he helped Zemo escape, Sam was furious, and couldn't stop yelling at Bucky about how insane his plan was, and Sam was right. But the moment Bucky looks him in the eyes and basically says, "please do it for me", Sam agrees right away... Excuse me what??? How does this make sense?                                                                              

If my friends ask me to work with an international criminal who just escaped from prison, I wouldn't just stop arguing with them just because they looked at me with puppy eyes. I would continue to yell at them until the end of the mission. Sam was like, “ok, ok, I'll do it for you”? I'm sorry but that is not friendship only, it's something else.

In Episode 5:

 Can we talk about Bucky's reaction when Torres arrived in Episode 5?? The annoyed face when Torres walks in and Bucky walking away right after that, without even saying goodbye? Torres is the sweetest soul on earth, how can anybody hate him? Why would Bucky not like him??? This scene make no sense unless they're trying to tell us that Bucky is jealous or something.

Bucky asking a favor to Ayo, when he's not in good terms with the Wakandans. I'm sorry but do you realize how heavy this scene is? Ayo, just told Bucky that he should lay low for a while, and Bucky understands that, but his first thought is "I need to get a gift from Sam" first. Nope nope nope, you can't tell me this is just friendship. Ok, maybe it is, but I don't understand this filming choice. Plotwise, Sam could have asked for a suit or new wings himself.  I'm sure Sam is in very good terms with T'Challa and the Wakandans... What does it mean that Bucky was the one to ask for it as a gift to Sam, when Bucky was in a already in a difficult situation with the Wakandans due to him freeing Zemo.

Bucky touching Sam's waist to ask him to move when he starts helping him with the boat repair. And Bucky coming from behind to do so, giving us a very short but intimate scene.

Their conversation about Bucky staying over for the night: Bucky saying he doesn't want to make things weird with Sam and his family by staying over, and Sam saying how the people in the town are so open-minded. Why would they have that conversation if Sam and Bucky are only friends? Sarah knows about Bucky and his past, she know that he and Sam are friends (sort of), why would a friend staying over make things weird between him and his family? Why would Sam need to say that the people in this town are open-minded?

The video montage of them building the boat the day after. Anyone knows why they would show us that if they were only friends, and with THAT music choice? 

The extra long handshake at the end of their training scene, when they kept holding hands and looking into eachother’s eyes while talking together, and Bucky basically says he'll be there for Sam whenever he needs him.

I’m sorry but it doesn’t seem to me that they are being portrayed as just friends

Usually in buddy cop movies/ TV Shows, there are always joke but in the FATWS, some scenes are so emotional that I feel like I'm missing something. Bucky has this whole passive agressive behavior with Sam and yet he's unable to let Sam go on a mission on his own. One thing I really can't understand is that Bucky always seems know where to find Sam, as if he had been keeping tabs on him. 

So yes, there's definitely chemistry between Sebastian Stan and Anthony Mackie, due to their friendship but it’s not only that. The writers and director have made the choice to keep some scenes and some dialogues ambiguous.

In some of the scenes we can see that there's more to Bucky and Sam's story than we know.

And they're not the first Marvel couple to have a similar treatment: Wanda and Vision's relationships was very subtle at the beginning, same for Natasha and Bruce, we rarely see them together explicitly but we knew they had a relationship.

It's the same for Sam and Bucky, some of the scenes only make sense if there has been a romantic relationship between Sam and Bucky at some point.

To me it's really like Sam and Bucky are set up as a couple or at least two people who have been romantically involved in the past, but the show won't expand on that because this is a superhero show, not a romance.

In an action movie, you would see some couples, or people who are obviously in a relationship or hints that there is something going on between them, but rarely would you see a kiss, that’s what I feel is happening here.

Last point: if Sam and Bucky had kissed in Episode 5 after their talk, it wouldn't have been out of nowhere and it wouldn't have changed anything to the plot. That's how I know my theory isn't that far-fetched.

I would love to hear your thoughts about some or all of these scenes (especially the Torres one, that one is driving me crazy)  and see what you think about it?

If you see their relationship being portrayed as pure friendship, I would like to know why. And would also love to hear how you guys interpret their other scenes together and if you have some different point of views about the scenes in the show.

[bananathebookworm]

TLOVM 10-12 Watch Party Ramblings

- I’m immediately reminded of the old Talks Machina opening bits

- Scanlan Shorthalt “Voice of Sam Riegel”

- Grog Strongjaw “Just here for the ale”

- I still don’t know what’s happening here... clearly the dialogue is being improvised... but the animation? what is happening?

- Good lord... the energy on the couch is already off the rails

- I figured it was probably mocap, but wasn’t sure if it was actually Travis and Sam doing it...

Ep. 10

- “Please pay no attention to the physical manifestation of my issues...” I love you Taliesin

- Mica: “You wanna get a guy talking, ask him what animal he thinks he could fight?” Everyone on the couch: *immediately proves her point by discussing*

- Taliesin messing up the name of his fictional wife and trying to not draw attention to it until Matt calls him out

- “Thanks, Keyleth”

- I love hearing about the different iterations of these scenes

- Someone needs to put Matt in front of a camera and just let him talks for hours about the lore of his world

- “If you don’t have enough trauma in your real life, I’ll give you plenty of it in your fake one.” Good lord, Matt...

- “If you want to parent your kids, put them in acid.” Parenting advice with Critical Role.

- “What is happening tonight?” The most important question of the night...

- Matt did scratch for a Tom Hiddleston role... and they couldn’t tell the difference...

Ep. 11

- Taliesin going on about how terrible Ripley’s designs are is everything

- “Who put this group together?” Mica, any group that involves both Sam and Travis is only going to be chaos filled.

- Matt’s crying... someone give him a hug...

- I also love hearing them talk about the changes they made from campaign to series

- Sam and Travis being in charge of this project was not something I expected when the kickstarter launched three years ago. But I suppose there’s a reason Travis is the CEO of the company and Sam directs on a hundred different projects. As chaotic as their dynamic can be, they can produce some amazing stuff when it matters.

- Hearing how they recorded the fight sounds just goes to show how much they really care about this project

- The Briarwoods are real fucked up...

- The tl;dr of tonight: Cassandra and Percy need therapy...

- “I don’t care about you enough not to like you.” Fucking brutal.

- I love how much they can rib one-another over choices made in game

Ep. 12

-  I really hope that if they do another Talks-style show, Mica is the host. The fact that she’s unfazed by everyone else’s shenanigans is perfect.

- I love Grey

- “Darling, take the mask off.” Once again, thank you Laura and Taliesin for my life.

- “Love all of this so much.” SAME TALIESIN

- Somehow I missed the reference to Titans the first time I watched this. But i love how much they’ve set up already.

- “The whole second half of the season happens in nine hours.” I never thought about that... D&D time is weird...

- Love the analysis of these early designs and what lead them to their final choices

- I really want Briarwood backstory. Whether that’s in season 2, in campaign 3 with Laudna, or with a Origins comic. I just need more of their whole deal.

- Laura and Liam setting the bar for everyone else. Did anyone expect any different?

[blackstarising]

coming back to this post i made again to elaborate - especially as the ted lasso fandom is discussing sam/rebecca and fandom racism in general. there are takes that are important to make that i had failed to previously, but there's also a growing amount of takes that i have to, As A Black Person™, respectfully disagree with.

tl;dr for the essay below sam being infantilized and the sam/rebecca relationship are not the same issue and discussing the former one doesn't mean excusing the latter. and we've reached the glen of the Dark Forest where we sit down and talk about fandom racism.

i should have elaborated this in my last post about sam/rebecca, but i didn't. i'll say it now - i personally don't support sam and rebecca getting together for real. i believe what people are saying is entirely correct, even though sam is an adult legally, he and rebecca are, at the very least, two wildly different stages of life. for americans, he's at the equivalent of being a junior in college. there are things he hasn't gotten the chance to experience and there are areas he needs to grow in. when i was younger, i didn't understand the significance of these age gaps, i just thought it would be fine if it was legal, but as someone who is now a little older than sam in universe, i understand fully. we can't downplay this. whether or not you think sam works for rebecca or not, even despite the gender inversion of the Older Man Younger Woman trope, whether or not he is a legal adult, i don't think at this point in time, their relationship would work. i think it's an interesting narrative device, but i don't want to see it play out in reality.

that being said!

what's worrying me is that two discussions are being conflated here that shouldn't be. sam having agency and being a little more grown™ than he's perceived to be does not suddenly make his relationship with rebecca justified. i had decided to bring it up because sam was being brought into the spotlight again and i was starting to realizing that his infantilization was more common than i felt comfortable with.

sam's infantilization (and i will continue to call it that), is a microaggression. it's is in the range of microaggressions that i would categorize as 'fandom overcompensation'. we have a prominent character of color that exhibits traits that aren't stereotypical, and we don't want to appear racist or stereotypical, so we lean hard in the other direction. they're not aggressive, they're a Sweet Baby, they're not world weary, they're now a little naive. they're not cold and distant, they're so nice and sweet that there's no one that wouldn't want approach them, and yeah, on their face, these new traits are a departure and, on their face, they seem they look really good.

but at a certain point, it reaches an inflection point, and, like the aftertaste of a diet coke, that alleged sweetness veers into something a lot less sweet. it veers into a lack of agency for the character. it veers into an innocence that appears to indicate that the person can't even take care of themselves. it veers into a one-dimensional characterization that doesn't allow for any depth or negative emotion.

it's not kind anymore. it's not a nice departure from negative stereotypes. it's not compensating for anything.

it's patronizing.

it is important that we emphasize that characters of color are more than the toxic stereotypes we lay on them, yes, but we make a mistake in thinking that the solution is overcorrection. for one thing, people of color can usually tell. don't get it twisted, it's actually pretty obvious. for another, it just shifts from one dimension to another. people of color are still supposed to be Only One Character Trait while white people can contain multitudes. ted, who is pretty much as pollyanna as they come, can be at once innocent and naive and deep and troubled and funny and scared. jamie can be a prick and sexy and also lonely and also a victim of abuse. sam, however, even though he was bullied (by jamie, no less), is thousands of miles away from home, and has led a protest on his team, is usually just characterized as human sunshine with much less acknowledgement of any other traits beyond that.

and that's why i cringe when fandom calls sam a Sweet Baby Boy without any sense of irony. is that all we're taking away? after all this time? even for a comedy, sam has received a substantive of screen time over two whole seasons, and we've seen a range of emotions from him. so as a black person it's hurtful that it's boiled down to Sweet Baby Boy.

that's the problem. we need to subvert stereotypes, but more importantly, we need to understand that people of color are not props, or pieces of cardboard for their white counterparts. they are full and actualized and have agency in their own right and they can have other emotions than Angry and Mean or Sweet and Bubbly without any nuance between the two. i think the show actually does a relatively good job of giving sam depth (relatively, always room for improvement, mind you), especially holding it in tension with his youth, but the fandom, i worry, does not.

it's the same reason why finn from star wars started out as the next male protagonist in the sequel trilogy but by the third movie was just running around yelling for REY!! it's the same reason why when people make Phase 4 Is the Phase For Therapy gifsets for the mcu and show wanda maximoff, loki, and bucky barnes crying and being sad but purposefully exclude sam wilson who had an entire show to tell us how difficult his life is, because people find out if pee oh sees are also complex, they'll tell the church.

and the reason why i picked up on this very early on is because i am an organic, certified fresh, 100% homegrown, non-gmo, a little ashy, indigenous sub saharan African black person. the ghanaian tribes i'm descended from have told me so, my black ass parents have told me so, and the nurses at the hospital in [insert asian country here] that started freaking out about how curly my hair was as my mother was mid pushing me out told me so!

and this stuff has real life implications. listen: being patronized as a black person sucks. do you know how many times i was patted on the back for doing quite honestly, the bare minimum in school? do you know how many times i was told how 'well spoken' or 'eloquent' i was because i just happen to have a white accent or use three syllable words? do you know how many times i've been cooed over by white women who couldn't get over how sweet i was just because i wasn't confrontational or rude like they wrongly expected me to be?

that's why they're called microaggressions. it's not a cross on your lawn or having the n-word spat in your face, but it cuts you down little by little until you're completely drained.

so that's the nuance. that's the subversion. the overcompensation is not a good thing. and people of color (and i suspect, even white people) have picked up on, in general, the different ways fandom treats sam and dani and even nate. what all of these discussions are converging on is fandom racism, which is not the diet form of racism, but another place for racism to reveal itself. and yeah, it's uncomfortable. it can seem out of left field. you may want to defend yourself. you may want to explain it away. but let me tap the sign on the proverbial bus:

if you are a white person, or a person of color who is not part of that racial group, even, you do not get to decide what is not racist for someone. full stop. there are no exceptions. there is no exit clause for you. there is no 'but, actually-'. that right wasn't even yours to cede or waive.

(it's also important to note that people of color also have the right to disagree on whether something is racist, but that doesn't necessarily negate the racism - it just means there's more to discuss and they can still leave with different interpretations)

people don't just whip out accusations of racism like a blue eyes white dragon in a yu-gi-oh duel. it's not fun for us. it's not something we like to do to muzzle people we don't want to engage with. and we're not concerned with making someone feel bad or ashamed. we're exposing something painful that we have to live with and, even worse, process literally everything we experience through. we can't turn it off. we can't be 'less sensitive' or 'less nitpicky'. we are literally the primary resources, we are the proverbial wikipedia articles with 3,000 sources when it comes to racism. who else would know more than us?

what 2020 has shown us very clearly is that racism is systemic. it's not always a bunch of Evil White Men rubbing their hands together in a dark room wondering how they're going to use the 'n-word' today. it's systemic. it's the way you call that one neighborhood 'sketchy'. it's how you use 'ratchet' and 'ghetto' when describing something bad. it's how you implicitly the assume the intelligence of your friend of color. it's the way you turned up your nose and your friend's food and bullied them for it in middle school but go to restaurants run by white people who have 'uplifted' it with inauthentic ingredients. it's telling someone how Well Spoken and Eloquent they are even though you've both gone to the same schools and work at the same workplace. it's the way you look down at some people of color for having a different body type than you because they've been redlined to neighborhoods where certain foods and resources are inaccessible, and yet mock up the racial features that appeal to you either through makeup or plastic surgery.

it's how when a person of color behaves badly, they're irredeemable, but a white person performing the same act or something similar is 'having a bad day' or 'isn't normally like this' or 'has room to grow' and we can't 'wait for their redemption arc', and yes, i'm not going to cover it in detail in this post but yes this is very much about nate. other people have also brought up the nuances in his arc and compared them to other white characters so i won't do it here.

these behaviors and reactions aren't planned. they aren't orchestrated. they're quite literally unconscious because they've been lovingly baked into western society for centuries. you can't wake up and be rid of it. whether you intended it or not, it can still be racist.

and it's actually quite hurtful and unfair to imply that concerns about racism in the TL fandom are unfounded or lacking any depth or simply meant to be sensational because you simply don't agree with it. i wish it was different, but it doesn't work that way. i'm not raising this up to 'call out' or shame people, but i'm adding to this discussion because, through how we talk about sam, and even dani and nate, i'm yet again seeing a pattern that has shortchanged people of color and made them feel unwelcome in fandom for far too long.

coach beard said it best: we need to do better.

[lizzybizzyzzz]

some more sam wilson headcanons that I'll take to my grave

he's so flexible and light on his feat despite being such a big guy because he was a dancer. ballet, tap, ballroom, jazz, you name it he knows it.

sam is a good kisser. don't ask me how I know, I just do

sam loves hugs. goodmorning hugs, goodnight hugs, see-you-not-soon-enough hugs, he'll use any excuse to hug once he knows the other person is okay with it

stress baker. he shows up at sarah's doorstep at three in the morning with homemade sourdough french toast sticks and they eat them together in the kitchen and she talks about her day to soothe him

sam takes the kids to buy mother's day presents for sarah every year since her husband has died

loves parties and going clubbing

every year when the anniversary of riley's death comes along he holes himself up in his room and doesn't come out until its over. he doesn't move, doesn't eat, just stares and the wall as the day replays in his mind over and over again (sarah tries to help but he doesn't let her)

his favorite holiday is definitely christmas. the food, the family, the decorations, gift giving

absolutely bathes in sunlight any chance he gets soaks it all up because it feels like the rays of sun are running across his skin, lays right in the grass of on the hard wood of the dock and lets his feet dangle in the water

everytime sam has a nightmare about rhodey hitting the ground he doesn't hesitate to hit the call button because rhodey always answers in that grumpy fatherly whats the matter with you this time but there's no bite and all concern. rhodey talks about his day and his physical therapy until sam is snoring on the line

sam is really good at everything domestic. laundry? perfect. hosting dinner guests? classy. you name it, he's good at it

probably sits on his porch everynight and is the neighbor that's overly friendly, sarah drags him in by the collar with a leave those damn people alone, sam

belts adele songs on his cleaning sprees

doesn't read directions when he puts furniture together

dad jokes that make everyone within a 5 mile radius groan while sam laughs hysterically

loves being kissed on the cheek

sam signed up for the air force the night he got back from his father's funeral. he'd tucked sarah to bed, turned out the lights then enlisted.

sam is very ticklish and his favorite color is probably orange or yellow

a dinosaur nerd if I've ever seen one. naturally excels at science and math. probably watches history documentaries when everyone has fallen asleep and no one can make fun if him for it

he unabashedly loves people. sam is open to sharing kindness but isn't open to accepting it for himself. he bleeds his heart out for the world but can't take a single band aid in return. he is the glass half full that humanity does not deserve, but should strive to be

plays guitar with a little clumsy fingerings but its still soothing nonetheless

[awake-dearheart]

The World That I Wanted [b.b.]

Summary: After Bucky begrudgingly lets you throw him a birthday party, the two of you are ready for bed when your traditionally tight-lipped boyfriend opens up in a way he never has before. 

Word Count: 2024

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: A few mentions of Bucky’s rough past, I think a couple h*ckin words here and there. 99% fluff

A/N: I’ve had this idea for a while and Bucky’s birthday seemed like the perfect time to put it out there. Inspried by the song In Case You Don’t Live Forever by Ben Platt. Happy birthday @jamesbuckybarnes-anon. I love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around. Thank you to @golden-parker and @emmabarnes for beta reading. If you’d like to be added to my taglist just send an ask!

As you stumbled sleepily into the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend and kicked off your heels, you found yourself unable to keep the smile off your face. Bucky followed close behind, his hand resting in its usual spot on the small of your back. Both of you were exhausted, but at the same time felt more at ease than you had in ages.

It had taken you the better part of a month to convince Bucky to let you throw him a birthday party. At first, he wouldn’t tell you why he didn’t want one. All he would say was he didn’t like parties. You could understand that, since crowds had a tendency to trigger his anxiety, but you knew him well enough to know there was more to it than that. Bucky wasn’t much of a talker so it took some prodding but eventually, you got him to admit the truth.

“I don’t like thinkin’ about all the ones I missed,” he had admitted, avoiding your gaze. The pain in his voice coupled with the way he refused to look at you nearly shattered your heart. Bucky didn’t talk much about his time with HYDRA. You assumed he did during his weekly therapy sessions, but he never so much as casually mentioned it to you. Not that you expected him to. The torment he’d endured for so long put a heavy burden on him, and as much as you wanted to shoulder some of it, you knew you couldn’t press him for it. When he was ready to tell you, he would. And this was the closest he’d ever come to telling you anything about it. You held his face gently in your hands and waited until his eyes met yours to speak.

“I know a lot of your memories aren’t great,” you said softly, brushing your thumbs along his cheekbones. “And I know I can't tell you to just leave your past behind you. What I can tell you is right here, right now, you have so many people who love you and want to show you how much we do. If you want me to just shut up and drop it I will, but please at least just think about it.”

After a few days, Bucky agreed to a party but only on the condition it be a small affair. In the end, it was the two of you along with Steve, Sam, Wanda and Pietro, Natasha, and a few other friends Bucky had made through groups and around town. When the party started, he was glued to your side, offering nothing more than polite nods to the guests as his hand gripped yours tightly. As the evening wore on and the drinks flowed, he slowly started to relax. His hand left yours from time to time and he even allowed himself to be plopped behind a cake at the head of the table while everyone sang “Happy Birthday.” He laughed and joked with his friends as you watched with a permanent smile etched on your face. You’d never seen him so at ease or talkative and it made your heart flutter. If anyone in the world deserved peace and a fun, light-hearted birthday party, it was James Buchanan Barnes.

Eventually, the party wound down and the two of you made your way back to your room with your hands locked together and your soft laughter filling the air. Bucky closed the door behind you and yawned softly, shrugging off his sweatshirt.

“I’m gonna go get changed,” you said, offering him a sleepy smile. “I’ll meet you in bed.” He returned your smile and nodded, not saying a word as he walked toward the bed. You chuckled softly to yourself and went to the closet, fishing out a pair of Bucky’s boxers and a t-shirt. When Bucky got tired he was always quieter than usual, so as you changed and crawled into bed with him, you fully expected him to be silent the rest of the night. It didn’t matter though. You could tell by the way he sighed in contentment and wrapped his arms around your waist that he was happy. His silence was his way of telling you everything was good. He pulled you gently back against his chest and you sighed softly, relaxing in his arms and pulling the blankets up to your shoulders. This was the best part of your day. Everything was quiet and calm and the two of you could just be. You loved it and you were pretty sure he did too.

“Goodnight, baby,” you yawned softly. “Happy birthday.” Bucky squeezed you gently and kissed the back of your head.

“Night, baby,” he murmured against your hair. “Thank you.” You smiled as he held you close and your eyes slipped closed, ready to let sleep overtake you.

Try as you might, you couldn’t fall asleep. Normally, you could drift off quickly and you assumed with how tired you were, tonight would be no different. And yet here you lay, eyes closed in your warm bed, with sleep eluding you. It took everything in your power not to groan in frustration. Bucky’s chest rose and fell rhythmically behind you and the last thing you wanted to do was wake him up. Sleep could be tricky for him and once he was awake he could never go back to sleep. You thought if you could just stay still enough for long enough you’d eventually trick your brain to sleep. Just as you finally felt yourself starting to drift off, you heard something that woke you right back up.

“What did I do to deserve you?”

Your brow furrowed at his words and you scooted back into him a bit. You thought maybe he might just be talking in his sleep, but then he hugged you tighter and spoke again.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered sweetly, kissing your head again. You bit your lip gently and stayed still in his arms as he tucked your hair behind your ear. Did he know you were awake?

“I love you so much,” he said, kissing your temple softly. “Sometimes more than I ever thought possible. I never thought I could have a life like this. Never thought I deserved it. Then you came along and knocked me right on my ass, baby girl. You took my hand and led me down this path for myself that I didn’t even see. I was living in a world that I needed but you showed up and gave me the world that I wanted.”

It took every ounce of self-control you possessed to keep yourself from opening your eyes and turning around. Shock ran through every part of you not only at Bucky’s heartfelt words but at how much he was saying. He had never spoken this much at once before and now that he was you never wanted him to stop.

“My therapist has been helping me practice all this,” he whispered, brushing his fingers along your side. “She said I should start by saying it in the mirror, then I could try while you were sleeping until eventually I’m ready to tell you to your face. She says not to rush it. Keeps tellin’ me I don’t have to worry and that we have all the time in the world.” His voice was thick, and you felt him move a hand off of you to dab at his eyes. He took a deep breath, and you felt his chest shake a little as he did. It almost broke you but you stayed still, hoping he would keep talking.

“She doesn’t get it,” he continued, going back to rubbing your side gently. “She thinks we have all this time, but we don’t. I have no idea how many lifetimes I’m gonna be around for. This damn serum could make me live forever. Nobody knows. But I do know that you only have the one and I’m pretty sure it would kill me if you didn’t know that all the best parts of me I got from knowing you. The time I have with you is finite and I’m so grateful for every single day. Every second I spend with you is perfect. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just need to get my shit together and tell you when it counts.” Tears welled behind your closed eyes as your heart swelled in your chest. Bucky had said sweet things to you before, I love you’s and pet names and other endearments, but he’d never told you anything like this. It was better than any poetry or sonnet you’d ever heard. You never knew Bucky had this side to him before. As you were about to say something, he spoke again.

“I know I’m not so good with words sometimes,” he admitted sheepishly, and you could almost feel the heat of his blush against your back. “But I love you more than you’ll ever wrap your head around. I’m everything that I am because of you. You call me your hero all the time, but the truth is you’re mine. You taught me how to love again. How to smile again. How to be the kind of man I’ve always wanted to be. I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to tell you all this to your face, but I promise someday soon I will.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Tears were running down your cheeks and you felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest, so you opened your eyes and turned in his arms. Bucky froze and his eyes widened as yours met his. The color drained from his face as he realized what had happened. He swallowed thickly and took a deep breath before he spoke.

“H-How long have you been awake?” he asked, his voice trembling.

“I never fell asleep,” you answered softly, causing his cheeks to flush so brightly that you could see it even with the lights off. “How long have you been doing that? The talking to me while I’m asleep thing?”

“A-A while,” he said bashfully, looking down. “I’m sorry, baby.” You put your index finger under his chin and lifted it gently, waiting for him to look at you again.

“Sorry for what, sweetheart?” you asked softly. He shrugged gently and played with the hem of your shirt.

“For not being able to say it sooner,” he said. “I should have.” You smiled up at him and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His arms wound around your waist and he pulled you close, pressing his chest to yours.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his lips. “I’m glad I heard you.”

“I love you too,” he replied, returning your kiss. “And I meant every word.”

“I know you did, my love,” you answered. “I want you to know that I don’t care how much time we have together. It could be one year or ten years or a thousand. I want to spend every single one of them with you. As long as I’m here, I’m with you.” Bucky smiled wider than you had ever seen him before and brushed his thumb across your lips.

“Promise?” he asked softly.

“On one condition.” Bucky’s eyebrow quirked at your words and you could feel the small twinge of anxiety that sparked in him as it did.

“Oh?” he asked, trying to hide the fear that tinted his voice.

“You have to keep saying sweet things to me,” you said, matching the smile that split his face.

“I can definitely do that, doll,” he said, leaning in to kiss you again. The pair of you wrapped your arms around each other and held tight, falling asleep with your lips still connected.

From that day on, no matter where in the world he was, Bucky made it a point at least once a day to tell you all the different ways he loved you. And for all the years the two of you were together, you never got tired of hearing it.

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