#what if steve rogers wore cable knit?

[eva-knits12]

Christmas with CE Characters

Steve Rogers:

Steve and you have a tradition.

You set up the tree on Black Friday with Christmas music playing in the background.

The next day, you both will start Christmas shopping.

Your two year old son James also "helps" decorating the tree.

It's mostly James taking an ornament, putting it on the tree, then taking the ornament off, and then handing it back to you or Steve.

You give James an envelope, and you give Steve an envelope.

Steve opens it, and Steve sees the ultrasound, and you give him the small package that has the positive test in it.

James looks confused, and gives you back the envelope.

You and Steve help James open it.

"Merry Christmas, James. From, your baby brother or baby sister."

James keeps looking for his new sibling, but you explain that his new sibling needs to grow in your tummy, just like James grew in your tummy.

On Christmas Eve, Steve goes to church, while you're busy keeping James entertained.

You start to watch A Christmas Story, but James falls asleep ten minutes into the movie.

You fall asleep, too, and Steve carries you both to bed.

The next morning, you, James and Steve wake up.

Steve dresses up as Santa.

James gets tons of toys.

You guys have a low key Christmas, and sit in your PJ's and have breakfast, then lunch, then a frozen pizza for dinner while watching A Christmas Story.

You all fall asleep in front of the TV, with James sleeping on the floor.

The next day, you all go out for pancakes.

Ransom Drysdale:

You and Ransom wake up on the Saturday after Thanksgiving , with the twins sitting on Ransom's chest.

Harlan, Katherine, Ransom, and you have a tradition on that day.

You start your Christmas shopping.

The twins see Santa and get their pics taken with Santa every year.

You also buy a few gifts for Toys for Tots.

The twins go see Santa on the first Saturday in December.

Ransom, you and Harlan and Katherine come home, and it's a good thing that Ransom and the twins decorated the tree while you were sleeping that morning.

You come home, and they surprise you with the tree.

Christmas comes, and the twins get toys, and you made them matching cable knit sweaters. You made one for Ransom, and you made one for yourself.

You take a family photo in front of the tree.

When Harlan and Katherine become teens, they can't picture Christmas without the tradition of a hand knit sweater and posing in front of the tree.

It's everyone's favorite tradition that you created.

Ransom fixes the meals.

You all watch A Christmas Story all day.

The twins fall asleep later on, along with you and Ransom.

Ransom carries you, and then the twins to bed.

The next day, you guys watch movies.

Ransom wouldn't trade this for the world.

Colin Shea

Christmas with Colin is lowkey.

You've already done your shopping for each other.

You two exchange your gifts on Christmas morning.

Harper and Robbie love this because they can finally get you and Colin to themselves.

Christmas Eve was spent with Colin's family, and that wore you both out.

You wake at seven, and Colin and you shower, and get dressed in sweats.

Harper and Robbie are in their Christmas themed sweatsuits.

The tree looks amazing.

You all sip on hot cocoa throughout the day.

The snow falling in the background looks pretty, and adds to the mood.

You all are snuggling watching A Christmas Story.

You all fall asleep, and wake up the next day.

You couldn't imagine Christmas without Colin, Harper and Robbie, and your in-laws.

This is what Christmas is all about.

Jake Jensen

Jake is dressed up.

The twins are in pretty dresses, and you're wearing a skirt with a cable knit sweater.

A photo is taken.

The twins are only a few weeks old, and they sleep the entire time.

Right now, you and Jake are constantly tired.

Newborns require a lot of attention and a lot of energy.

Jake's mom and sister and niece insisted on decorating the tree.

Christmas day, your brother comes to cook breakfast and lunch and dinner for everyone.

You and Jake sleep in between taking care of the twins, and watching A Christmas Story and Home Alone.

Next year, the Anna and Elsa will be one.

Christmas is lowkey.

You both nap while the meals are being prepared.

The day after, you and Jake just watch movies and sleep for most of the day.

The twins are in matching sleepers.

Between the feedings, the diaper changes, and the sleepless nights, you and Jake love each other even more.

Andy Barber

The tree is already decorated.

The gifts have already been bought.

The gifts are under the tree.

Andy, Joy, and Penelope surprise you with breakfast in bed.

"You do so much for the girls, sweetheart. I'll take care of things, okay."

"Merry Christmas, Sweetheart."

"Merry Christmas, mommy."

You eat the breakfast, and then come down after you've showered and brushed your teeth.

Andy insists you put on your PJ's and you all open the presents.

Joy gets a ton of toys.

Penelope gets toys, and some baby clothes.

You already took a picture for your brother and your parents.

Laurie never celebrated Christmas because she was Jewish, and Jacob didn't care at all.

Andy dresses up as Santa when he gives out the gifts.

Penelope tugs at the fake beard, and Joy is excited.

Andy gets a hand knit cardigan, along with a really nice watch, some really nice cufflinks, and some fancy coffees.

You get some spa stuff, a nice necklace, a ring with each of the girl's birthstones and names on it, some slippers, and some cozy PJ's. You also get some pretty diamond earrings and some pretty cultured pearl earrings.

Andy, Joy, Penelope and you all watch A Christmas Story.

For lunch, Andy makes grilled cheese and tomato soup.

Dinner is a homemade pizza with some salad on the side.

You all watch some more Christmas movies.

Christmas was amazing and stress free.

Frank Adler

You and Frank have been dating for a while.

Christmas is lowkey and Mary gets to join in on the festivities.

Frank has sole custody of Mary.

He has gone no contact with his mother.

You and Frank have just moved in together, but you two are making this situation work.

You, Frank, and Mary picked out the tree, and then decorated it.

The gifts are bought, and are placed in stockings and the tree.

Home Alone is playing in the background.

The gifts are open.

Mary got some books, and she gets a gold necklace, along with some Lego's and some other toys.

Frank got a gold watch, and a nice watch that has a leather strap, and some nice shirts, and a nice sweater.

You got a nice sweater, a nice pair of PJ's, and you even got a nice spa set with some lovely smelling bubble bath and body wash.

You open up a small box, and Frank proposes.

You say yes!

You got an engagement ring.

Next year, you will be celebrating Christmas as husband and wife.

Johnny Storm

It's your first Christmas with Jake.

Jake got some really neat baby toys.

His aunt Susan got him some stacking rings and some really cool blocks.

You knit Jake a sweater with some matching booties.

Jake is only a few months old.

You and Johnny pose with Jake in front of the tree.

You get Johnny a nice watch, a nice dress shirt, and you give him a hand knit sweater.

You also get him a gold chain.

Johnny gets you a necklace that has Jake's birthstone, along with a pair of white gold hoops and white gold diamond studs.

Johnny also gets you some nice yarn you've had you're eye on, and you cast on a sweater.

You also get a nice massage and spa day from Johnny and Jake.

Breakfast is eaten, and lunch is eaten, and so is dinner.

You end the day watching A Charlie Brown Christmas.

Next year, you and Johnny celebrate your first Christmas as a married couple.

[the-shared-brain-in-retrograde]

Knives Out

(Or What If…? Steve Rogers Wore Cable Knit)

A joint review...

Firstly, aren't you glad to have us back? We know you missed us, deep down, very deep down. So you're welcome.

Secondly the tag line for this What If?... was a bit of a debacle. Cass suddenly lost her mind about spoilers, so where as What if Steve Rogers did crime? would have made possibly more sense, she insisted we didn't reveal who the villain was on the poster. The cable knits though are honestly a very big part of the film for some of us, who lost their minds in other ways.

This takes us to our third point, which is that the notes made for this review varied wildly between the Shared Brain. Cass made proper film notes, and Becks thirsted. In Becks' defence, when discussing it after she was a bit more articulate about the storytelling, the sets and the all that film stuff. But those jumpers are really good.

Enough of the introduction and on to the film...

This film hits the ground running. We both commented on the excellent dramatic music, and the fact that the house is just dreamy. It’s like, yes the film has started, pay attention and come take it all in. Becks has just had an explosion of words and waving arms, declaring this film to be the most perfect film that has ever been made.

The introduction to all of the characters is just so clever. We go into the most perfect library for interrogation that has ever existed, which is also perfect as it is in this library that the most perfect interrogations occur. And the lies begin here as the audience is told story upon story, mixing and replaying shots as the Thrombeys' show us just what sort of family they are...awful.

As well as the suspects we are also introduced to the world's best detective team, a man who has had enough of all their shit, another man who is just so excited to be a part of it, and James Bond trying out a new accent. Jokes aside Daniel Craig in this film is excellent. It’s easy to forget what a great actor he is, when all you can bring to mind is James Bond. Cass has just told Becks that he revolutionised the role of Bond, but Becks won't hear a good world said about that franchise - so we are at an impasse.

Anyway, we love Benoit’s introduction. Becks’ notes said, ah James Bond being a tit in the background, whilst Cass lost her mind and started gushing about ‘the presence that man has!’

Needless to say the way the full story is introduced is brilliant. Such great storytelling. The way the same scene is edited and cut slightly differently each time, showing the audience the curated and untrustworthy points of view of each character. The switches and the camera angles telling us as much about the characters as the words they use to tell their own story. It’s just the peak of what good cinema should be. Perfectly encapsulated we think, in this bit of dialogue about Walt’s creep of a son:

Walt: He’s very politically active

Richard: The boy is literally a Nazi

Meg: Alt-right troll dipshit

Walt: Kids these days, the internet

It is also here that Becks begins demanding to see her favourite snuggly murder boy. Cass admits that her interest is peaked when he is introduced as the black sheep of the family, got to have a type, I suppose. The slight difference here is that one of us has kept a grip on their finances for once, and one of us has not.

Quick question, is the vomiting after lying a real life issue? Answers on a stamped address envelope please, because we posed the question and haven’t bothered to investigate further.

We love Marta and Harlen's relationship, the only two half sane people in that god forsake house. Marta is obviously a godsend, a proper caring friend to Harlen. Imagine caring about someone so much that you would protect them even in death? It’s the only bit of true warmth and love felt between two characters in this film, and really sets them apart from the rest of the assholes on the floors below.

Again we want to show appreciation to the house, a character in its own right. Full to the brim with beautiful tat, and secrets that we just adore. We want a secret trick window, long corridors, rooms full to bursting. We want a home that is just stuffed full of every little thing that makes up us.

Cass would also like to take a moment to sympathise with Linda. She too knows the struggles of people clomping about upstairs while she is trying to sleep, but unlike Linda she knows exactly who it is. 🙄

Also we really enjoy Toni Collette playing the shit out of Gwyneth Paltrow. 10/10

Also, is there anything more relatable than storming out in a fit of rage after being told to get a job? Poor Ransom. Becks has suggested she would be his sugar mummy, but Cass has helpfully pointed out Becks couldn’t be as she has no money to keep this man child in cars and knitwear. Spoil sport.

The film at its core is a traditional country house murder mystery, that has been brought shining into the twenty first century. We are still given the joy of watching the sleuths try and pick their way through clues and motives, but with the addition of Marta evading them just a moment before. We love them roaming the grounds, with her managing to cover her tracks just before they get there. Although there is ever the glimpse of bright blue eyes constantly watching in the background, as Benoit Blanc quietly takes in more than he lets on.

The dogs' barking signal the arrival of hotness.

The will reading scene is end to end fantastic. Biscoff, delicious biscoff. The audacity of the entire family to hide their own failings and to unite as one in a vicious little coup. The slap fight. Ransom's face. Eat shit, eat shit, eat shit, definitely eat shit. I'm not eating one iota of shit! The panic and disorientation the audience feels as Marta tries to leave the house, the noise the crowding. Fleeing into the open door of Ransom's Beemer. And finally the darkness creeping in as the family begin to plot. We love that Alan is so desperate to go home that he is happy to be called useless.

Becks would love nothing more than to jump into a sports car and then be menaced in a country pub. So rustic. Cass might be on board too, depending on who's driving the sporty number.

The pub scene shows us Ransom in his full glory. We get fed on cable knit, intelligence, menace, plotting, lying, sleeves over his long fingers caressing his fucking mouth. Cass wishes she could take the keyboard off Becks, taking it up to a third intervention of the week. [I don't think we're laughing about that yet, but at least we're not crying any more. The low blood sugar is making it impossible to pump out any more tears I think. What a fucking mess.] Trying to bring it back a little, it's just another really good bit of storytelling as both the characters and the audience is manipulated down another web of lies.

Another bit of sinister action that we enjoyed is Walt Thrombey visiting Marta's house. The sinister thump of the cane as it impacts the ground, moving ever closer, demanding to overpower the woman in front of him. And we love how she turns it around on him, changes the dynamic so perfectly, leaving him small and bitter and alone.

Then we are treated most wonderfully to the car chase. What a time, it was both ridiculous and thrilling. Ransom calling Marta 'baby driver' nearly had Becks done for but she kept it together, out of professionalism and that... Oh we do love a good car chase, it’s fun and it builds the tension perfectly.

Now, does it seem a sensible thing to blackmail a murderer? We would say no, and are also proven correct. The repeated scene of Fran in the abandoned dry cleaners is great. The first time we see it with Marta and the body it's creepy, dark and so unsettling. The second time with Ransom, the power shifts and we feel it as he takes her life and light out of the room, just to get hold of that report.

It also gives us the little treat of Blanc happily singing to himself in the car. What a fucking delight this man is.

It then leads us on to the finale, the big reveal, better than anything Poirot has ever done. Never has Agatha Christy treated us to lines such as, 'What were the words overheard by the Nazi child masturbating in the bathroom?'.

Not to be a broken record, but honestly the whole ending was just perfect. B Blanc finally telling the tale how it truthfully happened, joining all of the little dots and crumbs we had been fed throughout the film, finally filling the donut hole. The whole donut analogy makes Cass feel hysterical, wave upon wave of joy and shrieks that’s she tries to hold in as it goes on and on. She has likened it to Becks' reaction to Ransom, but we have discussed the subtle differences in that.

The ending also gives Ransom his perfect villain ending. That monologue. We shouldn't use the word perfect anymore in this cursed review but that's what it is, and Becks will fight anyone who says differently.

RANSOM: I want to say this just to you, not to a courtroom of cameras, just to you because you know it's the truth: we allowed you into our home. We allowed you to take care of granddad, to be part of our family and now you think you can steal it from us? You think I'm not going to fight for our birthright, our home, our ancestral family home?

BLANC: *laughing hard* Harlan bought this house in the eighties. From a Pakistani real estate baron.

RANSOM: Oh shut up Blanc, shut up! Shut up with that Kentucky fried fog horn rag-horn drawl. Yeah I killed Fran but I guess I didn't, so what do you have on me. Nothing. What, attempted murder? I get arson for the building, maybe a few other charges, with a good lawyer, which I have, I'll be out in no time. And then you'll see just how much hell I can wreak on your life, you vicious little bitch.

And then he takes the vomit like a real champ. Marta goes off like that little frilly dinosaur in Jurassic Park, and we love to see it.

We then get what our old film-tutors oft referred to as a trippy Jaws shot, and then so much slo-mo drama with that incredible chair in the background. It just looks amazing, as we follow everyone's terrified faces as the knife cuts through the air and down into Marta's chest. And then bounces a few times.

We should also discuss how Becks' notes just end with the line, 'I wish he'd stab me.'

@becksxoxo: I stand by it. He's so angry, with his face, and then he flies through the air and is just there, on her, plunging the blade in, and then back out, and in again, and out and...

@cassandrafey: Oh for god's sake. Do you think you're clever?

@becksxoxo: Alright Cass, no need to be such a vicious little bitch about it.

In conclusion, crime bad, but if done in a nice sweater, crime good.

We've had a lovely time. It’s such a comfort movie (weird considering it’s very murder based but we won't delve any deeper into that, we’re weird women, fuck you), something so brilliantly written, designed and acted, and just a joy to watch.

Bet you’re excited to see what our next convoluted What If…? tagline will be next week ey folks? Stay tuned for more shared brain action!

Love Becks and Cass xoxo

[falcqns]

you're not beating him up

pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: sometimes you have to threaten violence to cheer a certain super soldier up.

warnings: angst, fluff, crying Bucky, Steve Rogers slander (I hate that mf).

a/n: hope you enjoy! this is apart of my shifting series that can be found on my master list!

you knew something was up when you walked in the apartment and it was dead silent.

living with Bucky was never silent. not that he was loud, but always needed to have some sort of sound happening, other wise his mind would wander.

you looked through the rooms for him, and eventually found him in the bedroom, holding a maroon cable knit sweater, that didn't belong to either you or Bucky, tears rolling down his cheeks.

you sat down next to him, and ran your hand up and down his back to soothe him.

"what's going on?" you asked gently, and Bucky sniffled.

"I was cleaning out the closet because I knew you were going with Fury to help Wanda today and I knew you wanted to do it, and I found this." he said, handing you the sweater. "it's Steves. I bought it for him while I was living in Wakanda, and he said he wore it all the time during the blip." he explained as you took the fabric from his shaking hands.

"I thought he'd take it with him, but I guess not."

"Bucky, I-" you began before he cut you off.

"guess he didn't care about me the way that I thought."

you sighed, and dropped the material onto the floor before encasing him in your arms.

"baby, he did care about you. we've been over this. he made a decision, and it was the wrong one. he left his best friend for a girl. that the most childish thing he's ever done, but it wasn't because he didn't care for you." you explained. "he loved you. you know what my theory about his crash is?"

Bucky shook his head.

"I think that when he had the option of crashing the Valkyrie and dying, or jumping out and living, he realized that a life without you was a life not worth living. he would have had Peggy, yes, but he wouldn't have the one man who was always on his side no matter what, and to him, that wasn't a life he wanted." you said, and Bucky sobbed harder.

"then why'd he leave?"

you shook your head.

"I don't know. I really don't."

you don't know how long you sat on the closet floor rocking him back and forth, but eventually he calmed and nuzzled into your neck.

you sighed and unraveled from him to stand up. "where're you going?" Bucky asked.

"I'm going to see Bruce for a little," you explained trying not to arouse suspicion about what you were actually planning on.

Bucky groaned and fell back against the carpet.

"you are not traveling back to 1945 so you can punch scrawny Steve in the face." he said, and you scoffed.

"that's not what I was going to do!" you insisted and Bucky laughed. he reached a hand out to you and pulled you back to the floor.

"sure you weren't. just stay and cuddle." he insisted.

[fic-for-fic-sake]

First Date?

A/N: Okay so I wrote this in March during the beginning part of quarantine so keep that in mind while you read. I hope you enjoy it and as always; likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

“Natasha you cannot be serious.” You deadpanned, making a face at her over facetime. 

“I am! I read it in a Buzzfeed article, tinder is letting you swipe all over the globe to find a quarantine buddy. It’s a thing.” She pouted from her end of the line, cutting up vegetables for her lunch. 

“I mean that’s ridiculous, are people really dating over facetime? Is this what the world has come to?” You asked, flopping down on your bed. 

“I mean, life goes on, even if you can’t go outside. Besides, I think it would be good for you, you’ve been in quarantine for more than a week now and you can’t keep facetiming me. Find yourself a new buddy, it could be fun.” She retorted, popping a piece of chopped zucchini into her mouth before throwing the rest in the pan on the stove.  

“What are you making anyway? It sounds loud.” You responded, ignoring her observation. 

“Stir fry, want some?” She teased, letting you see the pan with everything in it that made your mouth water. Red pepper and zucchini along with broccoli, chicken, and beautiful white rice. 

“I wish we were together so you could cook for me.” You moped, feeling your stomach growl with the thought of food. When was the last time you ate again? It was hard to keep track when you couldn’t leave your apartment. 

“It’s not my fault you moved to Spain.” 

“It’s only for a year! And how was I supposed to know this would happen!” You yelled at her through the phone, you doubted it had the same impact because you were staring at her kitchen ceiling as she tended to her lunch. 

“Just think about what I said, I gotta go! I’ll call you back later.” She said, as she blew you a kiss and then hung up, leaving you to look at your own tattered reflection in your black phone screen. 

You sighed as you padded to your kitchen in sweatpants to grab a pint of ice cream you had been working on. You popped a spoon in your mouth and scrolled through your phone, looking for the article Natasha was talking about. Sure enough after opening the Buzzfeed app, you saw that people were indeed doing first dates over facetime. It didn’t sound like a terrible idea, you only really had to look presentable from the waist up and you did kind of miss dressing in normal people clothes. 

Spooning ice cream into your mouth you redownloaded the tinder app and started swiping through. People from all over the globe popped up on your phone. New York, London, San Francisco, Berlin, Seoul, and New Delhi. You swiped for longer than anticipated and got a few matches but none of them really panned out until you found one profile in particular. 

Steve Rogers, an artist from Brooklyn who worked at a law firm, interesting combination. His very first picture drew you in, dark blond almost brunet locks swept to the side, a full beard, and a killer smile. Okay, you were interested. You scrolled through his pictures to find one of him in a suit, presumably at work, another of him in a cream colored cable knit sweater looking out into the middle distance, and the last one was him standing shirtless on a beach, hair slightly shaggier and coffee mug in hand. Holy shit. He was gorgeous. You swiped right and nearly dropped your phone out of shock when it said that it was a match. 

No way. No way would this literal Adonis of a human being swipe right on you, but who were you to argue with the tinder algorithm. You got up to put your ice cream back in the freezer when your phone made a pinging sound. A message from Mr. Handsome himself. 

Steve: Hey

You: Hi

Steve: Madrid huh? What time is it there? 

You: A little after 9pm

Steve: What are you up to? 

You: Oh you know, the usual, staring at a wall because I can’t leave the apartment

Steve: Wow, it’s like I’m there with you. 

You chucked at his dry humor. You and Steve talked for pretty much the rest of the night before you told him you were going to fall asleep on him if you stayed up any longer. Before he let you log out for the night, he asked you on a date, over facetime. You smiled so hard you swore you tore a muscle in your face. You accepted his proposal and agreed to facetime tomorrow evening for you and tomorrow afternoon for him, so you could cook together. 

The next day you were freaking out, deciding what to wear. What does one wear to a facetime first date? This was uncharted territory for all parties involved and the internet, where you would usually go for advice, was no help either. Natasha advised just wearing casual clothing, and she was right. You didn’t want to look formal just sitting around your apartment, that would be weird. You decided on a pair of light wash jeans and a baby pink sweatshirt hoodie from Calvin Klein. You kept your hair down, a simple style. You decided against makeup because after the call ended you were just going to take it off anyway. Perfect, you looked good and casual, not like you hadn’t left your house in four days. 

You made sure you had all the ingredients in front of you for a simple dijon sauce and chicken. You were debating whether or not you should wear an apron when your phone rang, it was Steve. You propped your phone up against the wall before you answered. 

“Hi!” You exclaimed, adjusting the phone before you stepped back into the frame. 

“Hey.” Steve’s voice rang out through your empty kitchen. You took a minute to admire what he was wearing. A plain gray long sleeve shirt hugged his arm muscles and black jeans were on his legs. His hair was swept to the side and his beard was neatly trimmed, truly the picture of perfection. 

“Are you ready to cook?” You questioned, pointing your wisk at the camera which garnered a chuckle from him. 

“What are you making?” He questioned, as he opened the door to his fridge and began to root around for ingredients, giving you a perfect view of his lower half. You tried not to stare at the image of his perfect ass on the frame, instead focusing on lighting the stove and beginning to chop up some garlic. 

“Chicken with a dijon sauce.” You replied, brows knitted in concentration. “What about you?” 

“Funny, I’m making chicken noodle soup.” He replied, laying out his celery on the cutting board and also beginning to chop. 

“God this is strange.” You commented as you turned on your stove and put some olive oil in the pan. 

“Strange good, or strange bad?” Steve implored, putting the chopped celery aside and now moving on to the carrots. 

“Yeah, I haven’t decided yet.” You chuckled a bit as you threw your chicken breasts into the pan. “How many times have you made chicken noodle soup?” You wondered. 

“I’ve been making it for years, it’s my mom’s recipe.” He explained, a smile on his face as the memory. “It’s kind of a comfort thing and these days I’ll take comfort wherever I can get it.” 

“You and me both Steve.” You replied automatically, flipping the chicken in the pan. He laughed and the two of you made polite conversation as you continued cooking your respective meals. 

“Okay, you ready to eat?” He asked, ladling his soup into a cream colored deep ceramic bowl. 

“My mouth is already watering.” You jested as you plated up your chicken and broccoli and drizzled a healthy amount of sauce over the top of everything. You both went to each of your fridges and grabbed the same bottle of chilled white wine. You had both decided on Verdejo white wine on your suggestion that it was amazing. He said he trusted your recommendation. 

You sat at your plain kitchen table in your small apartment, looking into the phone and seeing he lived in less humble dwellings. You could see a beautiful large window with what you assumed showed a spectacular view of the city. He poured his wine into an intricate stemmed glass while you poured yours into a glass cup. You laughed. 

“What is it?” He questioned, a small smile playing on his lips. Oh how that smile took your breath away. 

“I just think it’s funny that I have a washing machine in my kitchen, my walls are yellowing, and I’m drinking wine out of a cup.” You said, gesturing to your surroundings. “While you are living in a beautiful apartment and have the perfect drinking vessel for your wine.” 

“Yeah but you’re only in Spain for a year right? Work with whatcha got.” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, “I went to Romania with a friend of mine and we stayed in this little rundown shack with newspapers on the window and we didn’t have electricity.” 

“Wow Romania, what brought you there?” 

“I was commissioned to do a painting of the Romanian Athenaeum in Bucharest.” 

“Steve that’s amazing!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up in the air, “you must be a really talented artist, why’d you switch jobs? 

“I didn’t so much as switch but take a backseat in art. I loved it but it didn’t pay the bills. When I first got to New York I was living on my friend Bucky’s couch, and months later he was kind enough to offer me a position at his law firm.” Steve explained, stopping intermittently to take spoonfuls of soup. 

“That’s incredible. I wish I could paint.” You added, putting a forkful of dijon chicken into your mouth. “But art was never my strong suit.” 

Before he could provide a response, he brought the wine glass up to his lips and your movements halted as he swallowed a few sips of wine. You wondered what he would think of your recommendation. After a beat he wore the biggest smile on his face. 

“Doll, this wine is amazing! How did you know about this?” He asked incredulously. 

You could feel yourself blush at the pet name but recovered quickly, “When I studied abroad in Barcelona I went to a few wine tastings and they always had Verdejo and it was always my favorite, hands down.” 

You and Steve seemed to have no problem coming up with things to talk about. Your dinner time had long since passed and now you were yawning every few sentences and you could feel your eyes drooping. 

“Looks like someone’s tired.” Steve teased, a soft smile playing on those petal pink lips of his. No matter how tired you were you could still feel the need to press your lips against his. After a few more yawns Steve insisted that you hang up and go to sleep which you did begrudgingly. Ten minutes later you sent him a picture of you in your pajamas and tucked under the covers of your small bed. To which he responded with a picture of his own, thumbs up and face beaming. 

You had to remind yourself to thank  Natasha for forcing you to do this tinder business in the first place.

[samingtonwilson]

Relationship Tutor: (14) Communication Certification

relationship tutor masterlist

Summary: College AU. Bucky, a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: language

A/N: i don’t have anything to say before this chapter except for good luck, friends! it’s one of my favs and yes i am recycling the gif that was once on the series masterlist 

Bucky had long ago memorized the route to your apartment. He knew every small business he would pass, every chain fast food restaurant, every grocery store along the way. He remembered to change his lane to miss the pothole in the road right after the second stoplight and remembered to slow to twenty-five miles per hour in the construction zone that hadn’t come any closer to completion in the past year.

As he parked in your usual space, he mentally talked himself up. He reiterated lines of encouragement, lines of importance, and when he pushed the door open only to have doubt hit him particularly hard, he just remembered it was you in question. Someone he found peace in, someone he loved so much that it practically hurt— someone he wouldn’t lose, someone he couldn’t lose.

After all, you’d been there for him as much as he had for you, if not more. You always brought him his favorite soup when he was sick, wearing a dramatic surgical mask as a partial-joke, partial-precautionary-tool. You always stayed with him in the library long after your shift had ended to make sure he stayed awake, hydrated, and sane during finals. You always did all you could to keep him above water when his mental health began to slip again and did it all with that small smile you seemed to wish you could quash in favor of that spiky, cool exterior.

He took the stairs two at a time, attempting to control his breathing as he did so. He stared at your door for a long while once on your floor and followed the chipped paint and wood grain until he could will himself to knock. He shook his head and knocked before he could talk himself out of it, rapping heavy knuckles against weak wood incessantly until the door was pulled open.

Though part of him was expecting it, he was rendered speechless as he met Tony’s brown-eyed gaze. His mouth remained hanging open, eyes widening ever so slightly.

“Sweet cheeks!” Tony called, looking confusedly back at Bucky as the latter’s eyebrows came together in visible frustration— maybe in reaction to Tony’s mussed raven hair and lack of shirt. “It’s the scruffy kid again.”

“The what?”

Bucky heard a door click open and your light steps across the hardwood floors before he could see you over Tony’s shoulder. His stomach sunk and his chest felt heavy as he took in the oversized button-up you wore with bare legs save for dark grey cable knit socks pulled as high as they could go.

Your head tilted and messy hair fell into otherwise clear eyes. You had yet to clean the makeup from your skin, eyeliner still just as smudged and swollen lips just as stained. “Bucky? Is everything okay?”

He wasn’t sure how he should reply and had a fleeting thought that if he made any attempts at vocalization, he’d tell you how he felt right there in your doorway with Tony fucking Stark as his witness.

He cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, yes. Everything’s fine. Sam just— Sam was worried when you didn’t text any of us after getting home.”

Your eyes narrowed in skepticism and you motioned for Tony to move out of the way so Bucky could enter. You looked away when Bucky shut the door behind him, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment.

“So you two again, huh?” Bucky asked before he could stop himself, hands shoved into his pockets to hide tight fists that turned the skin of his knuckles practically translucent. He nodded to you and Tony when you raised a questioning eyebrow. “Hookin’ up? Doin’ it?”

Tony snorted and offered you a look that had Bucky’s jaw clenching. “Seriously, who is this kid?”

“You were at my place earlier, Stark,” he bit out, ignoring the glare you sent his way.

Tony frowned in consideration, then looked at you once again. “Thought that was Rogers’ place.”

You nodded and averted your gaze the moment Bucky’s eyes found yours. “They’re roommates.”

“No way!” Tony practically hollered, voice echoing through the apartment. He finally looked away from you but Bucky’s relief was short-lived as those deep browns were narrowed in his direction now. “So you’re the bedside angel? The crutch to young Rogers’ perpetually broken leg? The bodyguard to his stupidity? His other half?”

“I wouldn’t call myself—”

“What’s your name again? Benji? Boris? Berkeley?”

“Bucky,” he replied, working his level hardest to keep his volume and tone calm. “Y/N just said it.”

“Right. I think I had a horse with that name growing up.”

Bucky glanced at you as a brief smile pulled at your lips, your fingers lifted to cover it and the chuckled laugh that left your nose. He couldn’t help but smile a little himself. “Yeah, someone once told me I have the name of a horse.”

“Wise person,” you quipped despite yourself, dropping your gaze to your feet as you smiled. When you looked back up, your smile was small and almost comforting to the scalding heat in Bucky’s cheeks and the anger gritting his teeth.

He nodded at you, mirroring your smile with one of his own. “Yeah, they’re really something.”

Tony cleared his throat pointedly a few beats of silence later. Dark eyebrows raised as he blinked at you, he ran his fingers over the right side of his beard. “Sweet cheeks.”

You were nearly jolted out of the warmth you and Bucky had created, wetting your lips with a nod and sheepish smile. “Right, I’m sorry. We were in the middle of something.”

Bucky could never freely admit that he was jealous— not historically, not recently. It was a ridiculous, childish emotion only justified in terms of possessions. And as he’d heard from you, every woman ever in his life, Steve, and his own common sense, people weren’t possessions.

Moreover, he had no right to feel anything of the sort towards you. He slept around all he wanted, with anyone he wanted, as many times as he wanted— he’d even asked for your help in fostering a romantic relationship. It would be beyond hypocritical, beyond immoral to be frustrated at you for having sex, for letting yourself come undone beneath someone other than him.

But there was a reason Sam told him to drive over— there had to be a reason Sam basically shoved him into a situation that broke his heart even more.

Bucky contemplated screaming out right then and there how much he loved you. He contemplated interrupting this whole thing you had going even more by telling you that kiss was all he could think about, you were all he could think about.

But that was more of the same, wasn’t it? That was making feelings he should have had control over— feelings you should have never felt any pain from— your problem.

So he resolved to let the statement stand. He’d come over because Sam was worried, because he was worried. And it wasn’t a total lie.

As he took a step back towards the door, you tilted your head questioningly again. “You can stay.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “What?”

“Yeah, I mean, it’s super late and I’m sure you’re sleepy— s’not like you’ve been well-rested lately. You shouldn’t drive like that.”

“But what about—”

“Tony,” you interrupted after a scowl and a shake of your head at Bucky. “The machine’s probably got a half-hour left. I can give you one of Sam’s shirts to go home in.”

“He won’t mind?” Tony asked, following you down the hall presumably to Sam’s bedroom.

Bucky narrowed his eyes and looked around himself in confusion. A blue spray bottle with a yellow label emblazoned with the OxiClean logo sat atop your kitchen counter alongside a small scrubbing brush and an open bottle of club soda.

His mouth was open so his tongue peeked out from between his lips, eyes narrowed to slits. “Wait—”

His mouth snapped shut the instant he heard Tony’s voice, taking his jacket off and tossing it onto the table. His fingers combed through his hair and he pulled on the ends, watching as you did the same with your hair.

“I’ll drop off your shirt tomorrow or something.”

Tony nodded, adjusting the full sleeves of Sam’s plain t-shirt and patting the pockets on his black jeans to presumably check for his phone and keys. “Thank you, darling. I’ll be sure to pass the stain removal tips along to Clint.”

“Pass common courtesy tips along to him before anything else. What kind of man just shrugs and walks away after spilling wine all over someone?”

“Same kind of man that’s drinking his girlfriend’s wine and eating Chinese takeout at four fucking A.M.,” Tony laughed, shaking his head as he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. “A hammered man.”

“Yeah, yeah. Tell Pepper I say hi.”

“Will do right after I apologize for another late night.”

You opened the door for him, sparing a glance at Bucky who just stood silently. “Keep it up and she’ll leave your sorry ass for good— won’t ever even contemplate getting back with you again.”

“Might give me another excuse to take a pass at you.”

You snorted. “Yeah, keep making jokes like that, Tony. S’a real good idea.”

He chuckled as he walked into the hall. “‘Night, sweet cheeks. ‘Night, Berkeley.”

“It’s Buc—” Bucky shook his head. “Goodnight, Stark.”

You shut and locked the door, leaning and slumping against it with a loud sigh. “It’s the middle of the night and I’m playing laundry woman to a man that has his underwear ironed by a butler.”

“He has a butler?”

“He has several butlers,” you replied with a hint of a smile. You stood up straight then. “I’m hungry. D’you want something to eat?”

“Doubt something’s open at this hour.”

“You’re right,” you frowned. “I can make something.”

“Yeah?” he scoffed, following you into the kitchen. “What can you make?”

You pulled the refrigerator open. “I can make Sam’s leftovers warm.”

“Look at you being all Gordon Ramsay.”

You popped the transparent red lid off a tupperware container of pasta and stuck it in the microwave, leaning against the stove with your arms crossed over your chest as the sound of ventilation filled the small area. “Oh, stop. I try to stay humble but it’s so difficult with my insane level of culinary talent.”

He snorted and shook his head.

“You know,” you began after a few moments of comfortable silence. “I texted Sam right after I left. Also texted him when I got into the car with Tony and when I made it home. It’s our routine when I leave somewhere at night without him, or go on a date, or something.”

A brief, mirthless laugh left your lips and you shook your head. “I’m a woman and the world is the way it is— all the excess notifications that I’m safe come with the territory.”

He nodded as you opened the fridge once again, this time to retrieve a bottle of deep red juice.

You shook the bottle and cracked it open. Your eyes were inquisitively narrowed. “So why’d you really come here?”

He cleared his throat for what felt like the millionth time and watched as you drank down a quarter of the pressed juice he always made fun of you for, your lips stained with the liquid when you set the bottle down. “Why did you leave like that?”

You licked your lips and took a deep breath, shrugging. “Felt like it.”

“Y/N.”

“What? I was tired, your place smelled like booze.”

“My room didn’t.”

“Good for your room.”

“You know as well as I do that you would’ve slept in there.”

You offered him a dry look. “Why would I sleep in your room, Bucky?”

“S’not like you haven’t done it before.”

“I have done it before, but things were different. You didn’t have to answer to someone else or have a responsibility to someone else.”

“I still don’t have to. Nat and I—”

“Nat and I,” you repeated almost too quietly for him to hear. You shook your head and laughed a bit— the irony of the sound made his stomach flip. “I was supposed to tutor you through this, through your relationship with her. How could I just jeopardize that exact relationship by sleeping in your bed?”

“You slept in my room yesterday.”

“And I’ve felt guilty about it ever since.”

“I could have taken the couch.” His voice sounded pleading even to himself, but he continued. “I could’ve slept on the floor, in Steve’s room, in a fucking chair— you didn’t have to leave.”

“Why is it such a big deal?” the pitch of your voice grew just as the anger in your eyes did. “So I left, I have work in a few hours and—”

He sighed loudly. “Why did you pick that time to leave? Why did you decide to leave only after I mentioned Nat?”

You looked at him incredulously. “What?”

“Why did you decide to leave only after I talked about Natasha?”

A scoff of offense left your lips before you asked, “What, do coincidences not exist anymore? I have to watch everything I say and do just to make sure you don’t read too much into it now?”

“So it’s a coincidence?” he returned, tilting his head. He knew his tone implied that he was aware of whatever feelings Sam had implied but he knew even more that it was a shield— a necessary shield to keep his insecurities from blistering more. “It’s just always a coincidence that you react this way whenever I talk about Natasha?”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s not?”

“No, it’s not. Buck, if I reacted that way every time you spoke about Natasha, there would be no you and Natasha, and I wouldn’t be so—” you shook your head and clenched your jaw, turning around to press the “Clear” button on the microwave in order to stop its beeping.

“You wouldn’t be so what?”

“Nothing.”

His nostrils flared in frustration. “You can’t—”

He pushed himself off the counter he’d been leaning against before taking steps in your direction. Though the steps were taken in anger, he found calm in the smell of your hair, in the warmth rolling off of you.

He took a breath and waited until infuriated wet eyes found his to say in a withering voice, “Please just tell me.”

“I shouldn’t have agreed to help you with Nat.”

Bucky couldn’t recall you ever sounding so small, so shaky. “Why not?”

“Does it matter? You’re with her now. The lessons worked.” The smile you offered him didn’t reach your eyes. “You turned new leaves, you developed as a person, you got over whoever it was and that was all just in addition to whatever you have with Nat. My part in this is done, there’s no point dwelling on it.”

“I’m not with Nat anymore.”

You eyebrows came together. “What?”

“Yeah, she dumped me in the middle of Aladdin.”

Nimble, trembling fingers pushed at his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He dreaded the distance you created as you brushed past him. “What would I tell you, Y/N?”

“Well, for one, you wouldn’t lie to me.”

“I didn’t lie to you.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “Right, you just hid it from me. Much better.”

“What could I have told you?” he repeated.

“That you ended, that you weren’t dating anymore.”

“What would I have told you when you asked why?” he returned as he crossed his arms over his chest. “The answer to that would’ve been a lie.”

“Why? Did you sleep with someone else, or something?”

He was almost offended. Almost. “No. No, fuck no.”

“Then what, Bucky? Why did you two end?”

He frowned in consideration and shrugged one shoulder. Honesty. “You. We ended because of you.”

Staring at him silently for moments that felt far too long, your voice was soft as you asked, “Excuse me?”

“I’m in love with you.”

The silence that followed fostered an ache behind his ribs, your slightly widened eyes and furrowed brow doing nothing to alleviate impossibly increasing insecurity.

Your breathing grew shallow, voice tight as you asked, “You’re what?”

He crossed the space between the two of you and, once he was only inches away, he lifted his hand with the intention to brush stunned tears from your cheeks, the intention to attempt conveying through touch just how much of him belonged to you.

His hand stayed suspended, however, mere millimeters from making contact. “I’m in love with you. I think I have been since the night we met.”

“Do you mean that?” you were whispering now, voice almost inaudible.

He finally touched his skin to yours, thumb wiping tear tracks as he leant his forehead on yours. Finding it difficult to hold them open, he allowed his eyelids to slide shut. “I mean it.”

He could feel your lips near his with each passing heartbeat until you pushed away from him, shaking his hands off you and taking rapid steps away from him.

There was no mistaking the freezing in his chest.

“You asked me to help you with someone else. You, you slept with her in my apartment. You kissed her, like, half a minute after kissing me.” You wet your lips and wiped harshly under your eyes. “Was that just some convoluted way of making me jealous?”

Panic and bile rose in his throat. “No, no. Never. I told you I wouldn’t do anything with her unless I was sure. Y/N, I thought I didn’t have a chance with you— hell, I was trying to get over you.”

“By using someone else?”

“No! Getting over you would just be an added bonus, you knew that.”

“I didn’t know I was the one in question!”

“How could you not?” There was a resignation in his voice, an exhaustion almost. “Everyone else saw it— Natasha dumped me because she saw it. I thought you were sparing my feelings by acting oblivious.”

You were silent for some time, eyes darting all over the kitchen and focusing on nothing in particular. Your voice cracked when you finally spoke, “Do you still think that?”

He scoffed quietly. “Now I think you’re just rejecting me and never want to see me again. Which I can’t— I can’t blame you for.”

“You can’t?”

Shaking his head, he dropped his gaze to his hands. “My feelings, my problem.”

“Bucky,” you sighed as you reached for him, grabbing a fistful of his sweater and pulling him against your body.

You searched wide eyes that attempted to read yours and, with one last tug, his lips met yours. Stunned and immobile until the surprise wore off, Bucky sunk into the kiss as his arms wound around you tightly. You tipped your head back and parted your lips at his silent request and he pulled you impossibly closer, letting the urgency of his every movement express each ounce of desperation he’d held in for so long.

As the need to breathe became too much and you broke away, Bucky was not at all deterred. His lips slid to your neck, under your jaw, against your pulse point until you set a finger under his chin and brought his gaze back to yours.

You watched as slate blue irises became nothing but thin rings around dilated pupils, your chest pressed to his. “I love you, too.”

He gaped, openly and silently.

His eyebrows knit together.

He thought he might have misheard you.

But he didn’t, did he?

He needed some time. He needed some way to collect himself. He needed to assure himself, to absorb, to fall back to Earth.

Instead, you repeated yourself. “I love you, Bucky.”

He didn’t care to hide the ruin in his voice as he asked, “You do?”

You nodded and he nearly growled as his lips met yours again, smiling as he felt you grin against him.

Though it began as a sweet, playful kiss, the moment Bucky’s hands slid down to your hips and gripped you with a bruising strength, there was a tangible shift. Your fingers were now in his hair, his teeth now lightly grazing over your bottom lip. There was a certain heat that almost burnt both of you, a heat that had lied dormant for so long and was suddenly given room to flourish.

Moments later, he let his hands slide a bit lower, stopping at the backs of your thighs so he could part your legs and lift you easily. You crossed your ankles behind his back and gasped at his tightening grip, whimpering at the almost agonizing way he ground into you.

Something about the soft sound shot through him and he broke apart to take a jagged breath, a breath taken in an attempt to calm himself. But as he looked at you, your lips swollen and your eyes filled with every emotion he’d longed to see, it proved futile.

He ducked his head to press his lips everywhere he could— your neck, your jaw, your collarbones— and hummed questioningly as you said his name.

“That jealous rage you stormed in here with was very cute.”

He smiled against your skin, your fingernails lightly scraping his scalp so he had to work hard to keep from practically purring. “Not cuter than that jealous rage you stormed out of my place with.”

PART 15: PHYSICAL COSMOLOGY

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[ugh-supersoldiers]

Something Tells Me

NOT MY GIF (but I sure do wish it was because look at that jawline oooo baby) 

MASTERLIST

Summary: Soulmates are supposed to be a beautiful gift, created so that no one every goes through life without love. Born with an invisible matching marking, a tattoo to signify their bond, that only reveals itself after the two souls touch for the first time. After escaping Hydra, Bucky hopes more than anything that his soulmate died a long time ago, but little does he know you’re right around the corner.

Characters: Bucky x reader, Steve Rogers

Warnings: Soulmate!au, cozy!bucky (this is the single best warning ever), sorta angst but sorta fluff, swearing

Words: 2178

A/N: So this is my first fic that I’m posting, but they’ll be tons more to come if you guys like this one. I’m super new to tumblr but figured this would be a good platform for me so strap in kids.

Bucky didn’t want a soulmate. He’d never met his own, he refused to let himself even picture what they looked like, he didn’t even know their name, but he knew - knew - he didn’t want them. It was sad really, and he knew it, rejecting a soulmate without having even laid eyes on them. And it was for this reason that he forced himself to believe his soulmate was dead.

It only made sense to believe it, after all most soulmates were born within a few years of one another, so how in the world could Bucky ever expect that his own soulmate would even be alive right now if he’d just turned a century old himself? For a long time he didn’t expect this at all, but there was this nagging feeling he had, a tingling right under his skin that made the hair on the back of his neck stick up pin straight whenever he thought about his soulmate - whoever they were. Perhaps this was the universe telling him to smarten up, reminding him that it’s the universe and it knows literally everything that has happened, is happening, and is going to happen, so it most definitely could accommodate for him. But he shrugged it off, refusing to believe that he was that special.

He walked by the Avengers tower, coming back from his stroll around town. It had started to rain about halfway through, and Bucky being, well, Bucky, had forgotten an umbrella. He didn’t mind though, not really at least. He’d always liked rain, it made him feel calm, and as an added bonus, it made the streets quiet. He liked quiet, too.

He walked back in through the revolving doors of the tower and made his way into the elevator, hopping out once it reached the penthouse and making his way to his room. He kicked open the door and let out a relieved sigh.

Home. 

He’d become a major homebody as a result of the last 70 years of his life, taking comfort in staying in instead of going out and being rowdy like he might have when he was younger. But like his youth, his adventurous side faded with time, and now he found more enjoyment in reading and drinking a cup of tea than going on dates and partying.

Dating was most certainly the last thing on his mind. He’d been around the block so many times in desperate search for his soulmate back in the day, that the mere idea of trying to find them again exhausted him.

He shrugged his leather jacket off and tossed it over the desk chair to dry. Stripping out of his other clothing, he threw on some sweats and a maroon cable knit sweater that Steve had bought him last Christmas. Steve had done a lot more for him that just provide cozy lounge wear, Steve had given Bucky his life back, a chance to start over. At first, Bucky thought he didn’t want it, he thought he didn’t deserve it, but one look at the pleading eyes of his best friend and Bucky knew he at least owed Steve a try. 

He pulled the soft blankets of his bed down and got under the covers, snagging the well loved copy of Steven King on Writing from the shelf above his bed, and opening it to the dogeared page which he’d bookmarked this morning. It was his absolute favourite book, and anyone who saw the beat up copy in his hands would be able to tell after just one glance. 

After a chapter or two, he felt his eyes grow heavy, every blink slower than the last. He soon fell asleep listening to the rain tapping against his window.

His was awoken by the sound of a quiet knock on his door. Bucky had become a rather light sleeper, so he nearly shot out of bed when he heard it, his book clattering to the floor at the movement.

“Buck? It’s (Y/N), you usually come down to make a cup of tea around this time, but I’d already made a whole pot so I figured I’d save you the trouble and bring it up to you.”

(Y/N) 

He smiled at your thoughtfulness, like he always did. You’d joined the team a few months ago, and for whatever reason you’d taken a liking to Bucky right away. He didn’t understand why, he was sort of reserved after all, and it took him a long time to feel like he deserved the kind gestures you’d extend to him. A smile here, a casual conversation there, and a cup of tea every once in a while felt like more kindness than he should have. After you’d gotten more comfortable, you started talking to him more about yourself. You began opening up to him, and that’s when your relationship changed. 

You told him about your powers, how you got them, who you’d hurt with them. And in time, he began to open up to you as well.

The entire arrangement of “friends” that the two of you had going was very new, but Bucky loved it because Bucky loved spending time with you.

He walked over to the door with a sleepy grin on his face as he pictured you in his mind, holding a mug out for him. And when he opened the door, he discovered that even his own imagination couldn’t do you justice. You leaned against the doorway with a smile on your face, your hair brush to the side, natural face shining through without a drop of makeup. You wore a light blue sweater and a pair of leggings. You looked so comfortable and cute that Bucky almost forgot why you were there until you held out the tea for him.

“Just with milk,” You said with a shrug, “I know how you like it.” 

He reached out with his metal hand and took the cup from you.

“Thank you.” He said and watched you walk down the hallway back to your own room. He was so focused on you that he barely noticed Steve leaning in the doorway of his room right across from Bucky’s. He must’ve seen the entire exchange.

With a smirk at Bucky’s hopeless face, Steve asked, “You ever touched her hand before?”

This snapped Bucky right back into reality in an instant.

“W-what? Yeah ‘course I have. She just handed me a mug.” He stared down at the hot tea in his hands, watching the wisps of steam rise up and tickle his face.

“That was with your left, Buck,” Steve said, rolling up the sleeves of his cardigan to reveal a black tattoo on his forearm, one he’d gotten years and years ago, “Have you two ever touched before?”

Bucky’s heart began to race at the realization that neither one of you had ever actually touched the other. Bucky wasn’t one for physical contact, a takeaway from his time as the Winter Soldier, and it wasn’t like you two were close enough to really touch anyways.

“My soulmate is dead, Steve.” Bucky said.

“Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself, not me, pal.” Steve shrugged, “Touch her arm next time you see her, and you’ll get your answer.” 

Steve retreated into his room without another word, and left Bucky standing in his own doorway with a cup of tea in his hand and his mouth hung wide open.

It made so much sense. Why else would Bucky feel so connected to you? Why else would you feel like you could confide in him? Why else could the two of you spend hours talking to one another without ever getting bored?

Bucky set his mug down on the counter and raced to your room, the fear of having a soulmate completely washed out of his system. You were here, you were made for him, and that compelled him to be in your life and to love you and care for you like he knew he could. Because even if he didn’t believe that he deserved a soulmate, if there was one thing Bucky was certain of, it’s that you above anyone else deserved one. And if it was indeed him, he was going to make sure that he gave his everything to you.

He knocked on your door frantically, running a hand through his hair anxiously as he heard your footsteps approach your door. It swung open and his heart stopped when he looked at you. 

“Oh! Hey, Buck. What’s wrong? The tea not good or something?” You asked, taking a swig of your own tea in your hand.

Bucky couldn’t speak, he couldn’t think. He stood there looking like an absolute idiot as you stared at him, concerned.

“You alright?” You asked as he remained silent.

He opened his mouth to try and say something, to try and explain himself, but what the hell was he going to say? “Steve has lead me to believe that we’re in fact soul mates and I’m just crazy enough to believe him!” He knew that wouldn’t work.

So instead, he reached forward without thinking and wrapped his flesh had around your exposed arm. 

A searing pain formed under his palm, but he’d felt so much worse before that he barely flinched. You on the other hand, dropped your mug and let out a yelp at the sensation as the mug smashed on the floor.

Bucky pulled his hand away as the blinding light that had enveloped you began to fade. He looked down at his palm and gasped. A small medallion shaped tattoo had inked into his skin covering most of the sensitive part of his palm. The then looked at your arm, which you yourself were now examining, to see the very same tattoo - his tattoo - on the exact place where he had touched you.

You gasped, tears prickling your eyes from the pain you’d experienced as well as the sheer overwhelming love you felt in your heart.

“It’s you.” You said, stepping closer to him, over the shards of mug with wide eyes.

Bucky felt like his mouth was full of cotton, he just stared at you, he stared into the eyes of his soulmate as the world around them began to fade away into nothing. He felt you pin your forehead to his and he sucked in a breath. You were close, so close to him that he felt drunk from exposure.

You reached out for his hand, turning over his palm to look at the marking that has situated itself on his skin, and before Bucky could do anything, you tilted your head up to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He could’ve sworn he’d never felt his heart hammer in his chest as hard as it had then. 

He’d heard so many stories about what it was like finding your soulmate but none of them even came close to what he felt now. He was kissing you - kissing the person the universe had saved especially for him throughout decades. Bucky Barnes had never felt more alive in his whole existence. 

You were connected at the mouth, but you were even more connected at heart, your hands pressed firmly to his chest as you deepened the kiss, so caught up in Bucky that you didn’t even notice Steve until he cleared his throat from behind him. 

Your face blushed a shade of red when you looked at him over Bucky’s shoulder, a smirk wide on his lips.

“Heard something smash,” He nodded at the broken tea cup, “But now that I know everything’s okay, an ‘I told you so’ is definitely needed.” He said, staring at the back of Bucky’s head before turning on his heel and heading back in the direction of his room.

You heaved out a sigh, pressing your forehead into Bucky’s chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, resting his chin on your head.

“It’s you.” You repeated, this time much quieter; more of a confirmation than a discovery.

“It’s me.” He whispered into your hair.

“I used to dream about this moment right here.” Your voice was even gentler than before, so gentle that it made Bucky’s heart flutter at the sound.

“I did too.” He confessed, “I’ve waited for you for so long.” 

You looked up at him, with a few tears falling down your cheeks. Tears of joy, this was by far the happiest you’d ever been. Never would you have imagined that you would find your soulmate in a 100 year old ex assassin, but you sure as hell were glad it was him.

“Hopefully I was worth the wait.” You laughed.

“Something tells me you were, doll.” His flesh hand moved to touch your cheek gently and you felt the medallion tattoo tingle against your face.

You already knew that Bucky Barnes was everything you needed, you could feel it on the surface of your forearm where the fresh tattoo still stung. You weren’t bothered by the dull ache of it anymore, you actually found it comforting, as if the sensation made you feel whole.

He kissed your forehead, and you closed your eyes, breathing in the scent of him that you knew you’d grow to know better than anything else. He was yours, and you were his, and nothing brought you more comfort than knowing that you had the rest of your lives to make up for every second of each others lives that you’d missed.

It marked the beginning of your life with Bucky, who most definitely wanted you in his life. It marked the start of your journey with your soulmate, and you couldn’t wait to see what else was in store.

[the-shared-brain-in-retrograde]

The Shared Brain Presents What If...? Season One

What if Steve Rogers wore cable knit? Knives Out

What if Tony Stark was a con artist? Kiss Kiss Bang Bang

What if Natasha Romanoff was a mermaid? Hail, Caesar!

What if Clint Barton had magical diabetes? Hansel and Gretal Witch Hunters

What if Bruce Banner gave up all that science and got really into puzzles? Zodiac

What if Thor wasn't a god? The Cabin in the Woods

[Non-canon]

What if Steve Rogers had even more train trauma? Snowpiercer

[the-shared-brain-in-retrograde]

WHAT?!

That's right, the idiots are back and ready to take on the big 6 in our own little What If series.

First on the list (sozzard @cassandrafey) is What If Steve Rogers wore cable knit...? A question some of us ask more than others.

I'll give you a heads up now, we will be discussing our very different reaction to Chris Evans, and I think dear viewers it will shock you.

It's been a hell of a week, so this is either going to make it or break it (lol @becksxoxo is broken already).

Stay tuned to hear our ramblings on Saturday.

And finally, we would like to wish all of you a very merry Large Boulder the size of a Small Boulder day to you all. 😘😘😘😘

love cass and becks