vvolfstare - Tumblr blog

[vvolfstare]

Bucky knew what he was risking, letting Tyler into his head. He didn't trust anyone in there after what Hydra had put him through, but this wasn't just anyone. He was his partner, his boyfriend, the love of his life. If he couldn't trust Tyler, he couldn't trust anyone. He'd never invaded his mind without permission, and he had faith he wouldn't take advantage of it now that Bucky was inviting him in.

He could tell when he calmed a little, forehead resting against his, fingers running through his hair. "See? It's okay. Let's get you to Erik. We'll fix this." He didn't let go of him, just shifted slightly to flag down a cab. "Stay with me, baby. Focus on my thoughts." He mind had wandered back to the letter Tyler had written him at the start of their relationship. Bucky had memorized every word of it, still had it tucked away in a desk drawer. He remembered sitting at the breakfast counter while he read it, all those feelings for him allowed to surface for the first time.

Bucky dug his wallet out of his pocket and threw down a couple bills to pay their tab before he threaded his way through the crowd after Tyler. It wasn't hard to figure out where he went. He just had to follow the destruction. He narrowly avoided being hit by a car himself as he dashed across the street to catch up with him. "Ty, stop!" At this rate, the city wasn't going to survive him walking home. If he was even headed home. It was hard to tell if he knew where he was going or not.

He caught his elbow, pulling him to a halt and turning him to face him. Tyler had always been respectful of Bucky's desire to have nobody else poking around inside his head, ever, but this wasn't exactly a typical circumstance. He drew a breath, steeling himself. "Look at me. It's okay. You can-- you can read my thoughts. Just focus on me, okay?" He made his breath even, conjuring up every soft memory he could think of when it was just them. Picnic dates in the park or at the beach, cozy mornings in bed, quiet nights cooking together in the kitchen, curled up together on the couch watching Bucky's favorite old sci-fi movies.

[vvolfstare]

If you dance, I'll dance I'll put my red black dress on, get it on And if you fight, I'll fight It doesn't matter now, it's all gone

I had drawn this as an air bag for the today's potential dissaster.

LOVE TO SEE HOW THE TABLES HAVE TURNED >: D

Pls let them be happy and make it permanent for God's sake 😭

[vvolfstare]

His brow furrowed slightly in concern, but he didn’t say anything. It wasn’t that Steve never got down about anything. Despite the very high pedestal Bucky put him on, he recognized that he was still human. It was just unusual to hear him get down on himself. Bad enough the guy in the park had punched him and wrecked his drawings. If he’d broken Steve’s spirit, Bucky might have to hunt him down and pound some manners into him. (Probably not. But it was an entertaining image.)

"Hey, the gin was your idea." He grinned a toothy smile. He enjoyed tipsy Steve, but to be fair, there weren't a lot of versions of his best friend he didn't enjoy. "I'm sorry too, but only 'cause I don't like seeing you get the shit kicked outta you." He was concentrating on cleaning up his face while causing him the minimal amount of pain, his movements careful but purposeful. Bucky had never had the talent for drawing that Steve did. He could sketch out a motor easy, but his own skill was far more technical than artistic. There were moments like this he could see where the impulse came from though. Steve was lovely from this range, even with his face all bruised. The temptation to close that small distance and capture his lips in a kiss was so vivid, he almost forgot what he was doing for a moment. 

He took a breath, coming back to himself, and gently ruffled a hand through his hair before he pulled away. "Should be all good." He set the cloth aside, taking the bottle for another sip when he was through. The worried frown was back between his brows. He thought he knew Steve Rogers better than anyone, but he hadn’t known until just that moment how sad he was. He knew he'd been devastated by Sarah's loss. Bucky was too; he'd adored her. But he hadn't realized how much he was still suffering.

His hand settled at his knee, squeezing gently. "Sure it will, pal. It's been a rough year, but it's only up from here. You were made for great things Stevie, I know it." To anyone else, that would have been pure Barnes charm, otherwise known as bullshit, but he was all sincerity when he said it to Steve. He was the best person Bucky had ever known. Someday, the rest of the world was going to catch on to that.

"Don’t forget brains and talent." He elbowed him gently, never one to let Steve sell himself short. It constantly baffled Bucky that people didn’t see what he saw in Steve. It wasn’t just that he was a good person, funny and talented and too damn clever for his own good. He was handsome too, maybe not in a flashy way, but there was hardly a thing Bucky didn’t love about him. Pretty eyes, sweet smile, beautiful artist's hands, soft blonde hair he'd dreamed about running his fingers through.

Christy almighty, Barnes, give it a rest. He did his best to shake off those thoughts as he grabbed the gin and a damp cloth for the blood and met him in the living room. She had been pretty. Bucky had never had any trouble reeling in the pretty girls. A part of him enjoyed it: the drinking, the charming, the dancing. He wouldn't do it if he didn't. But there was nothing real in it, and he knew that. He didn't want there to be. Someday, some doll was going to see what a catch Steve was and snap him up, and Bucky supposed he'd have to find a girl of his own then to keep himself from going mad with jealousy. But until then, he'd rather spend his free time with his best friend. Truth be told, he couldn't even remember what color her eyes were with Steve gazing at him like that.

"S'alright. You know me. Lotta pretty girls in Brooklyn. Wouldn't wanna be tied down to just one of 'em." He sat beside him on the floor, taking a little nip of the gin as he edged closer, offering Steve the bottle with a crooked smile. "For courage before we clean you up?" He was teasing. Steve never needed liquid courage. He already had more packed into that small body than anyone three times his size. Bucky sometimes thought maybe if he had a little less, he wouldn't get the shit kicked out of him so much, but goddamn-- there was nothing in the world he'd change about Steve Rogers.

[vvolfstare]

“Got a hug for your cousin?”

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

[vvolfstare]

“Bucky, I think we should stay inside today…”

"What the fuck!? There's no way that's the same bear." Bucky gaped at the window, their very large, very toothy visitor pressed against the glass. He was still smarting from the bear he'd literally wrestled to a standstill yesterday. It had been an utter shock to step outside and see it there right by the cabin, within mauling distance of his very human boyfriend. He hadn't killed it--though he probably could have with the metal arm if he'd been a shade more ruthless--but after they'd hurt each other, they both seemed content enough to go their separate ways and lick their respective wounds.

"What do we do?" His gaze shifted to Clint. After the hell he'd given him about it, he didn't thinking fighting a bear empty-handed was the usual response. And, frankly, Bucky wasn't sure he was up to a second round, at least not without better weapons. He had a feeling bullets were only going to irritate something of that size. Were they supposed to, like, spray for it or something? Was it like roaches? Bucky had survived off the grid before, but he'd never had to deal with the wildlife.

[vvolfstare]

enemies to partners to friends to lovers

[vvolfstare]

Dean had tried. Damn had he tried. He'd done all he could to keep Bucky away from the life. The closer they got though, the harder it was to turn him down when he offered his help. He found himself thinking of the other often, and he truly hated to be alone no matter what bravado he put on.

They'd just gotten back from a fairly routine salt and burn, both falling into their beds in the motel room, though Dean wished he'd gone for a king, when his phone rang.

For a moment he'd thought about just ignoring it, letting it ring. What if it was another job? Enough people had died on his watch, his family included.

A tired, reluctant sigh left his lips as he answered. It was his personal cell after all. Even so, it was a number he didn't recognize.

"Hello?" He breathed, voice barely betraying the way sleep pulled at him.

"Hey Dean..."

The voice on the other end instantly pulled him back from the encroaching darkness of rest into full blown clarity, his eyes open wide as he sat up straight.

"Sammy?" He breathed, his heart suddenly hammering hard in his chest. He glanced over to Bucky, putting his phone on speaker just so he could hear it. He felt like he was spiraling. His brother was dead.

"Hey. I know it's late, but.... I'm..." Sam's voice broke on the other line like he was trying to hold himself together.

"I need help. I don't know what's happening. I don't remember anything....where are you?"

Shit.

Ice cold fear ran down Dean's spine. This wasn't normal. He knew from his own experience that when things died, and came back, they never came back the same. Something was bound to be wrong.

"It's okay Sam. Just...find somewhere to lay low and send me an address, I'm on my way," he swore.

Most of Bucky's life was being pulled into fights he didn't want. At least this one he'd walked into with open eyes and clear motives. Of course he cared about saving lives, but that wasn't the reason he'd gone on that first hunt with Dean, or any one after. He was there to watch his six, the way he'd always done for Steve. Nobody should have to fight alone, and he could tell Dean needed someone after he'd lost his brother, even if he'd never say so.

He'd always been able to fall asleep anywhere, but staying asleep could be a challenge. Hunting ghosts and demons had added a few new nightmares to his roster. He was instantly alert at the sound of a phone ringing. His hearing was good enough to catch both sides of the conversation even without speaker, and he sat up more slowly, instantly wary. He'd never known Sam to recognize his voice, but he knew the name and Dean's reaction to it.

He'd have liked to preach caution, to ask Dean for some time to look into this and make sure it was really his brother. He was a world class spy, after all, and now he had the benefit of being a hunter too. There weren't a lot of secrets he couldn't unravel eventually. But he knew he wouldn't have been able to hear it if it were Steve on the other end of that phone. He'd have dropped everything to go get him, no questions asked. Except Steve didn't need him anymore.

He didn't speak until he'd hung up, and then it was just a simple question, the same one he'd been asking since this started. "You want company?" He'd prefer to go. He'd always prefer to go, to protect Dean or at least offer some moral support, but this was different. It was personal. If he needed to be alone, he wouldn't fight him on it.

[vvolfstare]

The fire was a wall of heat against his back, forcing him to step off the porch with her hauled against him. It probably wasn't far enough away from the blaze to be safe, but he didn't want to risk going near the trees with their shadows.

He grunted at the yanks to his hair, but she'd have to seriously hurt him to make him let go. The soldier lived with pain every moment he was awake. Most barely even registered to him. "Cannot." There was a flicker of something in it-- regret, maybe. But the pressure around her neck didn't waver.

@ghostofwinter

The mission had been going on for months, long enough for the headaches to set in, his sleep plagued by dreams so vivid they almost seemed like memories. It could be difficult to tell what was real or not at the best of times, the soldier's entire existence caught in some borderline nightmare state of following orders and punishment when he failed, with not a lot of continuity outside of those lessons.

He wouldn't fail to bring the other asset home. She'd escaped for a time, but nothing every truly left Hydra. It would never tire of hunting her, and he was still on her trail no matter how many times she'd slipped by him. Her shadows gave her an edge, one he'd underestimated before, but he wouldn't make that mistake again.

It was the middle of the day, a Molotov cocktail tossed through each window to drive her out into the daylight. It wasn't how they operated, out in the open like that, but he needed to even the playing field. He'd trained her until she was as deadly as he was. If there was more than that, a fondness, a protectiveness, it had been wiped from his memory.

[vvolfstare]

It was the only way the soldier could find to express that something was wrong with him. Whatever it was, it wasn't as obvious as whatever was wrong with the car. It was in his head. He'd been out of cryo for a while, would have been due for a wipe had they returned on schedule. Instead, they'd been stranded out here while the snarl of his mind got ever more tangled, a headache like an ice pick stabbing through his temple. He was used to functioning under a lot of pain, the only sign of it a slight furrow to his brow while he watched him work.

He moved forward obediently, the unquestioning trust in his handlers long since trained into him. He didn't, in fact, understand what he was saying. Like so many things with the soldier, he knew all the words, but the meaning was lost. He shook his head as he walked away, knowing without knowing how he knew that he hadn't fixed the car. He waited until he'd stopped trying to start it to lift the hood again. His head throbbed even doing that much without permission, but he'd done this before… somewhere. There was no memory, but the knowledge of how to fix it was still there. A few deft movements, and he pulled his hands back. "Try now."

❛ fix me. ❜ (Bucky @vvolfstare)

"Sure kid, lemme get my toolbox from the shed and I'll get to ya' too in a sec." Brock grunted sarcastically and with a sigh took his head out from under the hood and seeing the soldier's face, big blue eyes and a lost expression on his face, Brock immediately felt the sing of guilt. He sighed in frustration. Stranded in the middle of nowhere because the damn car broke down and he was left with the soldier while the other guys were searching the area.

"C'mere", he gestured with a hand, "if I fix you, we're both dead" he looked around at the merciless landscape around them "it'll be you 'n me against the fuckin world." the frustration in him spoke without him he was cold and the damn car wouldn't strat and this fuckin winter seemed to last forever.

He slammed the hood of the car down and walked by the soldier mumbling "You pra'lly don't even know what the fuck I'm saying." he brushed passed him as he attempted to start the car and see if whatever he did was of any use.

@vvolfstare

[vvolfstare]

He nodded, not surprised. HYDRA had similar tactics for making him compliant. Even as the Soldier, Bucky wouldn't cooperate unless they convinced him he was doing the right thing. "That's what they do. They twist the truth around to make themselves the heroes, to make you loyal. HYDRA did it to me too. I can't promise you SHIELD is always above board. It's a spy organization. But I can promise you that you won't be punished for looking for information and drawing your own conclusions about it. Nobody here is going to force their way of thinking on you." It wasn't perfect. Bucky acknowledged that. But at least they got to make their own choices here. That was a lot more freedom than they would have with HYDRA or the FOUNDATION.

"I do," he said softly, pressing his hand to the force field over Ty's. He couldn't touch him, but for a moment it gave him the illusion that he could. "You weren't always a weapon. You're Tyler Hale. You were a doctor. I worked the docks to put myself through school. We lived in Brooklyn together before World War II, and the draft took me to Europe." The most basic of those details could be verified when Tyler was free. Some of their letters and photographs had been displayed in the Smithsonian (without Bucky's prior knowledge or permission, obviously). The records of his birth and M.I.A. would be available.

He let his forehead rest against the invisible wall, eyes closing. He hadn't known if it was a good idea to get into the details of their relationship, but he wasn't going to lie to him. "I would have married you, if it had been legal. I loved you more than anything. But I …died. In 1943. That's what everyone thought. I looked for records of you when I got free, but they said you'd gone missing in action. I thought you were gone." Even if Tyler had survived the war, which seemed unlikely, he would have been old and possibly dead by now anyway, like all of Bucky's family.

Bucky had been there before, this exact place. He'd stood on a bridge and stared back at a man calling him by a name that even Bucky hadn't remembered, swearing that he was a stranger. But he knew those eyes, blue as the sky in springtime. Steve had broken through decades of brainwashing in moments, but that was just the beginning. It had been a long, hard road to recovery after that, Steve helping him claw his way back to his right mind and remember who he was. He swore to himself that he would help Tyler do the same, no matter how long it took.

But damn, it was hard to watch him like this, so scared and confused. He had a new appreciation for what it had been like for Steve to watch him struggle, but his best friend had never once wavered. Bucky wouldn't either. "My name is James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky to my friends. Former U.S. Army Sergeant of the 107th, Howling Commando, and Winter Soldier." There was a slight pause before he added the last one, but if he'd heard of FOUNDATION, Tyler might have heard of HYDRA. He didn't want to lie to him about anything. "Now that I'm free of HYDRA's influence, I'm working for SHIELD. I won't lie to you. SHIELD has done some shady shit. They're far from perfect. But I'm here of my own free will, and if I don't agree with a mission, I can turn it down or leave any time." He couldn't lie and say SHIELD didn't think of him as a weapon. That was one of the areas where Bucky was constantly butting heads with them. But he was a person too. His choices mattered.

"You're here so we can help you, that's all. I know you don't remember everything. I didn't either, at first. But I swear I'll find a way to help you, Ty. We knew each other once, a long time ago. You were the most important person in the world to me."

[vvolfstare]

"And you don't find it the least bit ironic that the ones funding your paycheck are the same people putting me on trial?" He paced the small area of Steve's apartment, his frustration building. He'd already been forced to crash there lacking any better options after the Blip. Another five years of his life gone in the snap of fingers. He hated taking advantage of Steve; letting him pay for a lawyer was just more salt in the wound.

"It's charity when I can't pay you back, Steve," he sighed. He didn't dare touch the accounts he'd drained from Hydra just now, with every eye in the world on him. "I found a lawyer. He's from Hell's Kitchen. He'll work on contingency."

Steve starter for @vvolfstare @grimmusings

"Hey, come on....just listen a minute, Buck," Steve sighed, shaking his head. He felt like he was digging himself into a hole. He'd said the wrong thing. He was sure of that.

"I didn't mean it like it came out. You didn't do anything wrong. I wanna help you through this trial. I'm just saying that finding a good lawyer is more likely to help us in the long run. Make people listen to the facts we already know. I'm not just donating money to you like some charity case. I get paid well by both the government and SHIELD. Let me help you. Please..."

[vvolfstare]

It had been almost a year of running and hiding, never staying in one place for too long, his survival instincts protecting him even on the days he couldn't remember his own name. There were a lot of those at first. Reading about himself in the Smithsonian was like reading about a stranger, but gradually the memories were coming back.

He could hear the staggering footsteps and smell the blood before he ever reached the door. The soldier had half a mind to go out the opposite window, but it didn't sound like his usual pursuers. They sounded hurt. He had a gun in his hand when he cracked open the door, but he almost dropped it at the sight of him. "Ghost," he breathed. Bucky hadn't been positive he hadn't just made him up, another asset to comfort him in his darkest Hydra days. His gaze traveled down to the wound, and he shoved the door wider to let him in.

Just a memory- closed

Vincent was starting to question things. Whether it was because of the bullet hole in his ribs, or the blood loss, or some deep seated programing he still hadn't beaten yet, he couldn't tell. But all he could do was keep going. Even when his metal leg started to become heavier and heavier. Even when he felt like the metal arm in his left shoulder would rip out of it's socket.

He was running on fumes. He didn't know what part of his mind were even his own. The only thing he could see clearly was a face. Crystal blue eyes. He was just hoping that the man he'd tracked down was the one he remembered. Or thought he did. Still holding the gunshot wound with his flesh hand, he 'knocked' on the door. Well more banged his fist on it. But he couldn't really control it at this rate. @vvolfstare

[vvolfstare]

"I know." There was only the slightest hesitation before he said it. He was grateful to Steve for triggering his escape, but he hadn't been able to face him since. The more he remembered, the more he longed to lean on him, to ask him which of the memories were true, to let someone help him as he knew, somehow, that Steve would. But he couldn't bring himself to drag him into this world.

He'd retrieved the backpack he'd hidden outside, slinging it over one shoulder. "I've got a car farther up that way." They could ditch it when they were far enough away, make them harder to trace.

Open rp - Broken tin soldiers

Sasha couldn't move, if she moved she was afraid she would do something terrible. The days had been blurring together since her escape from Hydra. One day bleeding into another. She stared at the figure before her. Eyes filled with tears, and terror.

She didn't know what she would do it she dared to even take a step. But she leaned into the barrel of the pistol pressed against her chest. Unable to drop the blade in her hand, even if she tried.

"You have to kill me...." The words left her lips with a wavering in her voice. "Kill me,.... before I kill you...... please...."

[vvolfstare]

"Don't you dare move." He hummed happily in agreement, arm tightening around his waist, the hand stroking through his hair. "I'm just some guy. But I love you more than anything, Steve."

A soft huff of breath as Steve's weight settled over him, fingers sliding through soft blonde hair. Bucky would love nothing more than to be slightly crushed by his best guy for the rest of his life. "I miss you too, Stevie. Hate being away from you for so long."

[vvolfstare]

"Sounds about right," he laughed softly. Their neighbor might even be more stubborn than Bucky was. He believed that she'd left Tyler no other options. Anyway, it would have been rude to refuse. People liked to be able to pull their own weight. "We could try to make a pie tomorrow, if you want. I have Mrs. Rogers' recipe." Bucky had never attempted much baking, but Steve's mom had made the best apple pie he'd ever tasted. He missed her still, knew he always would. She'd been almost like a second mother to him too.

Leaning into Tyler, he let himself relax for the first time that day. In his arms was the safest place he'd ever known. Even when things were difficult, he knew they could lean on each other. "Too hard," he agreed with a small smile, lingering on those soft kisses. He let his head rest against his shoulder with a soft groan at the idea of his hands on him. "I can't promise it won't either," he admitted with a chuckle, kissing his jaw and pulling away halfway to stir the soup. "This'll be done whenever you're ready. There's fresh bread too."

"Glad he's feeling better. Those from Ellen?" His gaze flicked to the apples on the counter as Tyler moved to wash his hands. Fresh fruit could be hard to find, but Bucky knew he wouldn't have accepted them if she'd given him any other choice. It was a nice gesture. He'd have felt the same way in her shoes, like he needed to repay the kindness somehow, and most of the building did the best they could to help each other out. Bucky's medical knowledge didn't extend past basic first aid (all those years of patching Steve up after a fight), but he was a good person to call on if something needed fixing.

He set down the spoon he'd been using to stir the soup, trying to stretch their last bit of meat into two more meals. His arms went around Tyler's waist as he leaned into the kiss, body pressed along the line of his. "Hi," he said softly against his lips. "Missed you today." He missed him every day, but it seemed like the long hours for both of them were taking a toll this week. His body ached from his shift at the docks, and all he really wanted was to curl up on the couch with him and a book or the record player on low for the rest of the evening.

[vvolfstare]

He couldn't very well reassure her that the Red Room wouldn't do that. It was well within the realm of possibility. "More likely, they'd just make us forget," he said quietly. "It's too hard to erase those bonds." It was what they'd done to him and Natasha, separating them and wiping his memory. He couldn't be controlled if his loyalty was to his family rather than Hydra.

"That'll never happen. The Red Room is gone. Hydra is hiding out with the cockroaches. They can't get at any of us anymore."

"Da... can I sit up with you?"

There were nights Bucky knew better than to risk sleep, bad brain days where the past felt close and he knew it would only bring nightmares. He was a sniper; he could sit still and silent for days if he had to, but it felt too much like a mission, so there were pieces of weapons laid out in front of him. It soothed that shapeless anxiety to keep his hands busy, and guns would always need cleaning.

It wouldn't surprise him if Aleksandra shared some of those qualities, and his attention shifted at the sound of her footsteps. "Hey. 'Course you can, kid. Something on your mind?"

[vvolfstare]

"I know. You're a good reader." He went to tug at one of her pigtails and then thought better of it. There was brownie goop on his hands, his shirt, the counter, everywhere. It could have been in her hair too for all he knew, but why add to it.

"Well, that's because you made them." He copied her duh tone, sticking his tongue out at her. Oh. Money where your mouth is, Barnes. He swiped a bit of the batter off the whisk with a finger and licked it, a slight furrow between his brows. "That's… interesting." It wasn't as bad as he'd been expecting, nor did it taste exactly good. Then again, he'd never been much for sweets. He wasn't entirely positive what brownie batter was supposed to taste like. "You try it," he teased, swiping a bit more batter off the whisk and dabbing a bit of it on her nose.

🥧 - bake something together

@kobikate

Bucky was good in the kitchen when the mood struck him, and he enjoyed the simple processes of putting together a dinner. He'd even branched out a little, watched some YouTube videos, learned a couple new things, and it felt good to be able to do that much for himself and the little soldier. Baking was a bit beyond his capabilities, but how hard could it be to follow a recipe, really?

Harder than he'd thought. Something about the goopy mess in the bowl looked wrong, although he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was. "You sure we got everything, kid?" He frowned over her head at the list of ingredients, one hand braced against the counter. To be fair, he hadn't been closely watching what she was doing. There could be a puppy hidden in that bowl for all he knew.