A/n: This is my entry for @flashfictionfridayofficial weekly entry. This week the prompt is Say My Name. Divider by @firefly-graphics . I took a break from my fluffy Bucky series I'm writing to hurt him a little 😥
Warnings: Descriptions of nightmares and subsequently PTSD, death mentioned, general angst, tiniest bit of fluff if you squint really hard, like one bad word.
Bucky wasn't a stranger to violence, it had been woven into his DNA; the parts of him deactivated mocked by that which would never leave.
During the day he could manage, mostly, Steve giving him a true north to point his compass. Nighttime was different, sleep a magnetic pole force that sent him spinning through the depths of himself.
The streetlights teased him, casting warm shadows in a way that seemed to allude to what lay before him. Sleep meant a journey, to the innermost corners of his mind, monsters locked up in the daylight set free to roam places so dark even shadows refused to show themselves.
He called it Karma, to himself mostly. He told Steve once, a heavily redacted version of the truth. Steve, in an attempt to reassure him, promised it wasn’t his fault, just residual trauma. But Bucky knew this wasn’t something that could be fixed, something that had blame placed elsewhere. It was his, personally curated over the course of decades. One doesn’t get to just hang it up and walk away.
He tries his best not to sleep, refuses to if Steve isn’t home. Once, he went eight days without sleep when a mission went bad and Steve got stuck in Europe. One day longer and he was going to catch a flight, the ticket window opened on his phone when Steve called and said he was coming home.
They were never the same when they called, the nightmares. For you see that would create routine, routine allowing preparation. He had the pleasure of being dropped, unannounced, into the very depths of hell without so much as a hint.
They were always bad.
Tonight was worse.
Cold. Snow crunching on his boots as he steadies himself, attempts to stand. It’s loud, echoing in his ears against the otherworldly silence.
He attempts to gain his bearings, the only light is in the distance, something smouldering, embers scattered across what seems to be a clearing.
Was he in the forest?
There were no trees he could see, only black above him, white below, the red embers snaking their way across what he assumes is the horizon.
Were they moving?
A blink, another, and it confirms that the embers were indeed moving, racing in fact towards him with a supernatural speed. The snow remains untouched in their wake, unexplainably virgin white.
He moves to run, but finds himself stuck, unable to as much as turn to look behind him.
There’s no need, too focused on what lies ahead. He stills, a low hum now seems to accompany the glow.
It grows upon approach, still at a good distance, but he gets chills at the recognition, understanding filling him with white hot dread.
It wasn’t a hum.
It’s screams.
Another attempt to flee does nothing, condemned yet again to await his fate.
The embers have turned to flames now, blue violet in intensity, lapping at the ground, racing towards him with a hunger like they hadn’t been fed in ages.
Heat licks at his neck, the screams growing with the flames, deafening him as they approach.
Instinctively he moves to cover his ears, but they're glued to his sides.
His ability to blink goes next, and he’s left to face the full version of fury.
Finally encompassed, the flames refuse to take him, set him free to what awaits, instead holding him there for their next play of hand.
The once constant drone of scream becomes distinguishable, transgression laid out one by one.
He recognizes every single voice.
“Please, I have a daughter!”
“He killed my family!”
“He’s not worth saving.”
“I don’t want to die.”
It’s hours, or years, seconds or decades, but Bucky’s voice is hoarse, raspy and broken from repenting.
The fire still refuses to burn, penance denied.
“I’m sorry it wasn’t me, I never had a choice! It wasn’t me… It wasn’t meeeee”
Release.
A gasp, a swing, two arms holding him against a warm chest.
“It wasn't me…” he murmurs still, unwilling to open his eyes, afraid it’s a cruel trick.
“Baby, you’re safe, you’re in bed, I’m here.”
“I… it, fire, fuck.”
Steve runs his hands through damp hair before placing a gentle kiss on the top of his head.
“You’re home now, look at me, come back to me.”
A shake comes, face still buried, afraid to tempt the fates.
“It’s ok, I’ve got you. Where are you?
“Home.” It’s weak, a tremble threatens to end him.
“That’s right, and who am I?”
Bucky shifts, just enough to look up and meet the familiar eyes awaiting him.
“Say my name.”
“Steve.”
It’s said like a man who’s drowning, the name a lifeline, a rescue. He manages to sit up, a weak smile on his face at the worried look Steve wears.
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Summary: It's your last night in town and the worst habit you have is waiting in the shadows for you.
Pairing: Bucky x reader
WC: 1351
Warnings: Smoking Bucky (he haunted me all day, it's a fair warning), alcohol, language, implied adult activities but no description, poor decision making lol
A/n: This idea literally haunted me all day so I typed it out in an hour so I could actually get dinner cooked and adult stuff done. It goes without sayiing that while I reread it several times, there wasn't a beta reader and all mistakes are mine! This is an entry for @juniebjonesin Picnic Blanket Prompts and Star Spangled Summer. My prompts were GOLDEN HOUR / SUNGLASSES /WOODEN FENCE /CHERRIES. Thank you for hosting!!
☀️
It was your last night in town, your time at home coming to a close with summer. It was bittersweet, the curtains closing on another season, memories packed away like the clothes in the backseat of your rental car. It had taken a well executed guilt trip to get you to agree to go with your childhood friend to the party, a friend of a friend hosting it at their home. You had an early flight, and to be honest a stranger’s party never held priority over sleep.
It had been a routine you established in college, coming back for the summer. Yet life had played its cards, and each year the time was forcibly shortened bit by bit. This summer was the shortest yet, just a little over a week to catch up with your family and the few friends that still lived in town. A longing for the days gone past stirs inside you, waking up sadness and leaving you even more on edge.
Golden hour hits as you arrive, the sun sinking in on itself with a warm embrace. It illuminates in the well manicured backyard in honeyed tones as you follow your friend through the fence. You feel him without laying eyes on him, a gravitational pull all his own.
It must be palpable, because your friend swears she didn’t know he was even in town, much less coming tonight. Her remorse is short lived as she’s called over to the table where everyone is making drinks. You follow her, not yet daring to seek him out. A variety of clear, dark, and colorful options lay in front of you, tempting you to try. This required a very specific amount of alcohol. Too little and you’d get mad and leave, too much and you’d wake up with another regret to box up alongside the others.
Two shots later and a summery mixed drink in hand you turn, scanning the shadows. They stretch, gray fingers crawling across the green grass, swallowing up the space left by the setting sun. He’s watching you, leaning against the wooden fence alone except for the shadows. He’s cloaked in gradients of gray, adorned like the king of shadows himself. He’s always on the fringe, making his home in the darkness. Cold to most, distant to all.
Except you.
You find him with a smile, a wicked one, reserved just for you, for times like this. It serves him well, having yet to fail him.
Not tonight, Barnes.
But you’re moving towards him, the warm feeling crawling up your body plotting against you.
The shadows seem alive now, swallowing him as you cross the yard. The cigarette he’s smoking casts soft shadows in the dark, just enough light that you can see his face shift as you approach. It looks deceivingly soft, pleasant even, lazy smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. You’ve been reading him for years now, enough to know when he’s trying to disarm his prey. You’re playing with fire, and you’ve got the scars to prove it.
The thing you won’t admit, not even to yourself, is that you like it, crave it even. Nearly a decade of this, whatever this was. A game of cat and mouse that was more like tiger and lion, neither of you really escaping a victor, both left to lick your wounds on your own. It was predictable- ugly, vile, and quick. Well, not all parts were quick you think, and it brings a smile to your face.
“See you’re still drinking that same cherry shit you did in college, you ever plannin’ on growing up?”
And so he’s off, let the game begin.
“Can you still do that tongue thing with the cherry?” He adds, a smile filled with a memory skirts across his face briefly, cigarette bouncing between his lips as he speaks.
“And I see you’re still making bad decisions in the shadows. You look like you belong in an alley.”
It earns you a laugh, admission granted into the exchange. “Don’t recall you ever complaining about what I do in the shadows.
“That’s because I did all the work.”
It's a real laugh this time, and he turns to face you. He offers you his cigarette and you oblige, a smoky acceptance that you’re willing to play the game.
It burns, and leaves you coughing, much to his pleasure. The only time you smoke is with him, another part of you that is uniquely his. He pushes his sunglasses up, soft hair framing his face. He’s playing his next move as he looks you over. He seems to take you apart with his gaze, eyes tracing you so intensely you can almost feel his touch grazing your skin. He knows this game, his moves both calculated and rotely familiar.
“You look good.”
His words are calculated but effective. That’s because compliments were given sparingly between you two- used for their disarming sincerity, prize pieces in a game of destruction.
It seems you miscalculated your alcoholic need, because you soften, your lips moving on their own. “Thanks, you too.”
His mouth shifts ever so slightly, less than a whisper of a smile but you know what to look for, and it’s in his eyes. Now you’re down a point and he’s in the lead.
“Still dating that try hard in accounting?”
You could almost miss it if you were a novice, but there in between layers of pride and something even you weren’t permitted to know, was a true desire for information. Hope that you would say no.”
“We’re actually married… last month.”
You raise your left hand, thankful for the beautiful gemstone ring you had bought at the art show earlier in the week.
You had taken the lead from him.
He whips to face you again, rattled. The slightest hint of uncertainty in his voice as he speaks. “Bullshit.”
You allow the silence to fall between you as you finish the cigarette, flicking the butt nonchalantly over his shoulder.
“Does it matter? If I said let’s go to my hotel and start making regrets right now would you say no, regardless?”
“Is that what you’re saying?” The space between you lessens as he steps closer, words almost hopeful.
“Is that what you want?”
It takes a second but it clicks that he’s been outplayed this round. His eyes darken, and you’ll pay for it later, but you never mind. You reach in his shirt pocket for the cigarettes, lighting one while you wait for him to decide his next move.
No means you leave.
Yes means you win.
Either choice means he loses, only one means you stay.
“I don’t care if you’re married or not.” He offers, snatching the cigarette from your mouth.
How you love it when he’s outplayed and pouty.
“Be a good boy and play by the rules, answer the last question. Or I’ll make your decision for you and fuck off. Now, do you wanna go or not?”
“Fine.” He offers, sullenly.
“Fine.” You mock, crossing your arms to copy his stance. “If I miss my flight you will pay me back.”
“Get fucked.” Is all he offers, blowing smoke directly into your face.
“Yeah, that’s kinda the whole point, asshole. You gotta car or do I have to uber myself to my regrettable decisions?”
He snubs the halfsmoked cigarette on the bottom of his boot and drops it in his shirt pocket. “Yes I have a fuckin’ car.” A bit too defensively, and you can’t help but seal your victory with an unquestionable lead.
“Just wanted to check, that summer a couple years back I’m pretty sure you rode a Razr scooter to my hotel.”
“I did NOT!”
“And for the record, no, I’m no longer dating Rick.”
“Ah yeah, that’s his name… Rick, Rick, has no -”
“Bucky.”
“Ok, Ok, damn. You’re so uptight sometimes.”
A beat of silence passes as you head for the gate.
“I missed you.” It’s offered for free, a show of sportsmanship after his loss.
A/n: So I have a laptop now, woot! This is for @witchywithwhiskey Steve Roger's Birthday Across the Multiverse! This is an AU where there was no WWII and Steve, Bucky, and everyone else was safe, healthy, and happy at home. That's it, that's the whole thing.
Warnings: Fluff, mention of pregnancy
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader
WC: 1137
The heat is sweltering, even for a late July afternoon, coating everything it touches in a sense of damp exhaustion. The apartment itself seems to be alive, struggling to catch its breath as the stagnant air from the opened fire escape window meets with the oven’s heat. Steve had repeatedly assured you that he didn’t need a cake, he was 22 now, a married man, and not a child in need of validation. Yet, deep down you both knew he loved a celebration, regardless of the reason, and he may not know it yet, but there was much more to celebrate today than just his birthday.
The two of you had been married just over a year now, and it had been a wonderful whirlwind of a year. Your ceremony had been threatened by the possibility of the outbreak of war, however, in a rare show of humanity the crisis had been averted and peace was shakily accepted. You both knew what had been avoided, and it cast an air of thankfulness over an already reverent ceremony as you two exchanged your vows.
Instead of kissing your husband goodbye at the train platform you were kissing him awake each morning before work. Instead of waiting on a sword’s edge at your parents you were here, in your homey albeit small apartment, living your life with a sense of fulfillment. It was a simple life, Steve working as an aspiring illustrator, you at the bakery part time. Yet, at night, when the city cooled and you sat together on the fire escape together watching the city shake off its daytime responsibilities, there was only one thing that seemed to be missing.
“Where are you, my love?” His lips pressing against your damp neck pulls you from your reverie, the skirt you had been mindlessly ironing discarded as you turn.
“ Didn’t hear you come in, was just thinking.” Your voice is still thick with daydreaming as you meet his lips with yours. “Did you get the film?”
“I did, and I got you some new candy, they’re called Mike and Ike.” He passes you the bag wearing a proud, if not mischievous, smile. “ There’s something else in there too.”
“What on earth is a Mike and Ike?” Curiosity gets the best of you as you rummage inside the bag.
“ I dunno, Buck said they were new, good and chewy, just like you’ve been craving.”
You sort through the bag’s contents, taking out the film, assorted candies, and then something white and fluffy catches your eye at the bottom. It’s a small white bear with blue eyes and a green ribbon. “ What’s this?” You ask as your brain simultaneously registers what it is. “A stuffed bear? You got me a present on your birthday?”
For a minute you think he knows, Steve has a way of knowing things no one has told him, much to others, especially Bucky’s chagrin. Usually to you it’s endearing, but it catches you off guard today. “ Did you see Bucky today, what did he say? I'm gonna kill Rebecca if she told him.”
He’s confused at your response, and it confirms the news is still yours to share. “ Bucky? No, should I have? I thought we were meeting him at 7 at the World’s Fair? We’re still going aren’t we?” His confusion melting into concern.
“Yes, yes of course baby, but what made you get the bear?”
His smile seems shy now, and he takes the bear from your hands, thumbing the soft fur as he contemplates his words. “I dunno really,” his voice is soft, barely above a whisper “Just making a birthday wish, I guess.”
“Why don’t we go sit on the fire escape?”
Your response shakes him, and he looks up, concerned. “Everything ok, love?”
“Yes, I just want to talk to you before we go meet everyone.” You pull him by the hand, crawling out the window to sit side by side in the narrow space.
The metal is hot as you sit, burning your calves through the thin cotton of your dress. Your shoes press against the railing in front of you, making the rusted metal squeak under the pressure. The warm bricks scrape against your back, shoulders touching as Steve settles awkwardly beside you. You register it all, using the sensations to ground yourself in the moment you want to remember. How many versions of you have already sat here, how many more are yet to come.
When you turn to him he’s still holding the bear, running his fingers over the fur in a poor attempt to soothe himself.
He’s worried.
“Don’t be worried.” you chuckle, your touch on his leg causing him to jump. “ So for over a year now we’ve sat here almost every night and watched the city. We’ve dreamed, planned, cried, and wished.”
“Mhm” His smile is shrouded in memory, as he thinks back over the time.
“Well, when we sat here and talked, cried, dreamed, planned, wished, what was that thing we were missing?”
The silence falls heavy with the weight of the topic and you allow it, giving him the time he needs to answer.
“A baby.” He finally musters, barely audible.
“A baby.” You confirm, but he’s still lost in thought, still soothing himself with the fur of the bear. You take it from him gingerly, sitting it between you. With a gentle touch you lift his chin to meet your eyes. The sadness in his eyes almost engulfs you, but you offer a smile instead.
“ Steve, we have our wish, we’re gonna have a baby. The doctor confirmed it.”
His face runs the gamut of emotions as he processes the news. “A BABY!” He yells when it clicks, and he jumps up, knocking his head on the fire escape landing above him. It barely phases him as he leans over to pull you up, meeting you with a kiss. “A baby?” He asks through met lips, confirming this time, tears welling in his eyes.
“A baby.” you nod as you lean back to survey him, your own tears running down your cheeks. “You didn’t know, honest?”
“No I didn’t, swear.” He helps you through the window, the apartment filing with smoke and the promise of a burnt cake. “ Just thought you really had a thing for chewy candies.”
“Damnit, I ruined the cake. I’m sorry, I’ll make a new one, I promise.” You fuss, but it’s to yourself, because Steve is already in the chair, ringing Bucky.
“Buck, hello, Buck, I’m gonna be a daddy, and you’re gonna be an uncle! It is! It’s the best birthday yet!”
And so that day, July 4, 1940, burnt cake and all, became Steve’s favorite birthday ever. The one his child, and their children’s children would hear about every chance it presented itself.
A/n: I finally got a laptop coming my way! Woot! Soon my works will be longer and more cohesive. Just a little fluff for my anxious mind. Mentions of anxiety.
Side note: if you have bad anxiety and seasonal allergies you might benefit from Zyrtec/Pepcid together- pulled me out of a week long anxiety spiral.💓 Also good for PMDD if that plagues you.
Stucky x reader
If you want more of Stevie and the goose lore search the full length story on my page🤣
🦢🦢🦢
Anxiety wasn’t a stranger in your household. It was ever present, an old friend whose welcome had long worn thin, yet lingered unwelcome at your door. It stalked the boys at night, wrapping it sweat soaked fingers around their dreams, claiming even their sleep as its own.
It sought you out during the light of day, wrestling for a place in the forefront of your mind, keeping you on constant edge. Most days you could fight, push through with gritted teeth and survive. Other days, when you were safe at home, your guard failed. Today was one of those days.
”Tell me a memory Bucky, it’s bad.” Your request is met with a smile as you nuzzle into his side. He lays down his book and happily agrees. This was a normal part of coping for the three of you, sharing silly stories from your childhood, and it seemed to help all three of you.
“How about Stevie and the Goose?” A mischievous grin spreads across Bucky’s face.
“ Oh god, again?” Steve whines from the foot of the bed where he’s folding laundry. But in the next breath the laundry is abandoned and Steve has taken his place next to you.
“ So it’s freezing, and Steve just had to draw Central Park, no ifs, ands, or buts.” Bucky starts, a fond smile and far off look in his eye that he gets when he talks about before.
“ It was the first snow, Buck, it was important.” Steve adds with a huff.
“Well, it was freezing, and after two hours and a frozen golden hour, we were both on our way to pneumonia. I had finally bribed him with favors and dinner, and we were on our way home.”
“ Make sure you tell the next part accurately.” Steve says with a raised brow.
“Stevie here, saw a lone goose and immediately took offense.”
“ Eighty years and you still leave out details!” Steve pouts “ that goose started it!”
“ Damned thing did charge him,” Bucky adds, lost in a memory before he continues.
And then suddenly, lost in a memory with your loves, the world feels a little softer.
From the starters you posted "Do you think we can throw her out the window?"
I’m gonna say Marvel, whatever character it strikes for you 💖
You’re sure this is the only place to find what we need?” He whines, but it’s just for you, his scowl causing the lady trying to push past to give a wide berth.
Did you really have to bring him along on your last minute errand, a trip to the store on the night before Thanksgiving? No. Was he incredibly cute when he was grumpy? Yes.
“It’s the only place that’s showing they have a turkey, apparently everyone else waited til the last minute too.”
“All the apps and internets and door dashes of the 21st century and I’m somehow reliving November 193-” he’s cut off as another customer bumps into him, her cart looking a little worse for wear as she scurries off. “ I’m gonna leave this place with some regrets.”
“Come on love, we’re almost to the meats.” You reply, doing your best to hide your smile.
“I don’t care, I’ll be vegetarian, let’s just go home. Let’s forget about the holidays and just order pizza. I will literally do anything you want just to leave right now.”
Before you get a chance to respond a kid runs by and sneezes on Bucky in passing.
“ I’m gonna throw someone out a window, I feel it. I can do a lot, but snot is a no go.” He dramatically wipes his hands on his pants as you near the freezer.
“ Come on you big baby, look there’s two turkeys left. No violence is needed...yet.” You can’t help but giggle at his frown as you hand him some hand sanitizer.
Just as you go to grab a turkey a lady snatches them both up and takes off.
He’s already waiting with a smirk when you meet his eyes. “Do you think we can throw her out the window?”
I feel his pain I would be as irritated and wanting to throw somebody out a window as well. Stuck in a grocery store the day before Thanksgiving, absolutely not! 🤣
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A/n: Please excuse all errors I currently do not have a laptop and am writing on a VERY old ipad💓 it also won’t let me do a page break. hopefully I will be able to get a laptop soon and everything will be more polished and edited. All feedback is loved and appreciated! Also peep the Ted Lasso quote🤣
☕️☕️☕️
Once in awhile, when even the fates feel for him, Bucky Barnes is granted a reprieve. He awakes with a glimmer of hope that reminds him of childhood; a gentle wind blowing after a cleansing rain. His body and his mind release their shares of pain and his smile reaches towards his eyes like a long lost friend.
These are the days him and Sam do not need to be together.
These are the days they’re pulled towards each other with with a near palpable force.
They crave mischief.
Today is one of those days, and Sam was knocking on your door before Bucky even finished braiding your hair.
“ Just a minute! I’m com-”
“ Don’ t worry about it!” Comes his muffled reply, accompanying a jiggle of a key.
“ Since when does he have a key?” You ask, craning your head back to meet Bucky cheeky grin. He offers only a shrug and a gentle tug of your braid to refocus you so he can tie the end up.
Sam enters with a determined look, barely acknowledging you as he goes to stand next to Bucky. “ Nice man, I see you’ve been practicing. That’s a decent part. Glad to see no additional bald spots.”
“ Wish I could say the same for you, man.” Bucky rebuts , and the room is filled with laughter peppered with vulgarity.
An hour and one broken lamp later the plans had finally settled on starting with coffee, and if you couldn’t keep up, a nap. There was no way they were getting out of your sight today though.
The coffee shop smelled rich and warm, with hints of mischievousness seeping off your cohorts. The teenage worker didn’t stand a chance once you saw the twinkle in their eyes as they made a silent exchange, a nod, unspoken agreement made.
“ Can I help you?” He asks, not bothering to look up from his phone.
“ I don’t know, Caleb, can you, a novice in life, help this man? So many have tried and failed, burdened by the defeat.” Sam delivers, unfaltering.
Caleb looks up, confused, but not enough to engage. “ What do you want today, sir?”
“What does anyone want really, how do you quantify the desires intrinsic to humanity?” Bucky delivers it perfectly, almost breaking Sam, but he covers it with a cough.
“ Would you like your philosophical debate decaf, sir?” Chad asks with a sigh that conveys his patience are waning and mischief isn’t a rarity today.
“ Existence is depleting enough, at least a man should be energized to face his lot.” Bucky adds, unmoved.
“Ma’am?” Caleb looks past Bucky to you for help now, his eyes almost pitying you as he waits.
“ Oh! I don’t actually know them, but sometimes people his age can’t hear well... SIR DO YOU WANT COFFE?” You say loudly in his ear.
He jumps, spinning to look at you with a smirk, Caleb looking on with what seems to be concern.
“ Oh sorry, I forgot how skittish older people were because of the war.” You quip, sending Sam into a wheeze as Caleb nods empatheticly. “ I’ll do my civil duty and get three mochas for me and the colonels, honor your elders and such.”
“ Great, name?” Caleb adds, as he punches in the order.
“I think you know who I am,” Bucky adds, refusing to give in just yet.
“ Sir, please, I’m under a time limit, my manager is a bitch and I can’t afford another strike. Your name?” He tries Sam this time, hopeful.
“Names are their attempts to capture that which cannot be captured.” Sam offers.
“ THATS IT, I DONT MAKE ENOUGH YO PUT UP WITH THIS SHIT. EVERYDAY, EVERY DAMN DAY GETTIN ASKED THE QUESTIONS OF LIFE LIKE IM FUCKIN GHANDI! I MAKE 9 FUCKIN 50 AN HOUR!” Caleb throws his apron on the counter and stomps off in a huff.
Sam and Bucky turn, accomplished at their mischief, simultaneously saying The name of the coffee shop two blocks over.
You’re going home for a nap, good luck New York.
The End☕️
Tag list is open! Just let me know if you would like on. Meanwhile I’m gonna tag a few I remember.
A/n: I’m not sure I even remember how to do this😂 just a Drabble that materialized from @the-wayward-robot and I trying to protect Bucky from whatever fresh hell The Russo Brothers(😒) have planned for him in Doomsday. I don’t have a laptop so this was written on an iPad that is halfway to legal voting age. Forgive me of any mistakes 💓
Pairing: Bucky x reader
Warnings: language and fluff
It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, Bucky cooking breakfast on a random Saturday, lost in thought, sneaking bacon when he thinks you’re not looking. It’s all routine, safe and predictable, so much so that he’s barely registering your giggles as you FaceTime your best friend. His concern lies more so with his newfound hatred towards this new quiche recipe.
“What the fuck!” A hiss escapes him as his pointer slips between his lips. His frown deepens when he finds it still jiggling under his scrutiny despite having cooked well past the time given on the recipe card he snuck in his back pocket last week at the supermarket.
“I’m too old for this shit...” he turns, seeking a distraction for the gelatinous disaster and finds himself right in another line of fire.
You greet his approach with a quick smile and go back to the topic at hand. “Yeah, I’ll fight for him! Bet your ass I will.”
It piques his interest, and he leans over the island, seeking admission to the conversation, a curious smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
“Yeah, fight like a feral chihuahua.” Your friend’s rebuttal leaves him stifling a chuckle while silently nodding in agreement.
He watches you feign shock, the animated moves warming something inside of him. “Bitch are you making fun of my height? Not everyone on Earth is over six feet!”
A disembodied laugh comes from the screened conversation he still wasn’t allowed to join. “Not this time, just your intensity to protect very capable, some may even say lethal, involved parties.”
He watches your face become fairly serious, and it makes him await something profound or sweet, maybe both.
“Well, he’s just a baby, He needs my help!” You look up, making eye contact with a beautifully confused and scrunched face.
“I-“ he pauses, head shaking a bit in confusion as he works through this scenario again “ you do know I’m perfectly capable of protecting myself...right. It’s important you acknowledge that for me right now. You know you’re still on probation for last time.”
“ It wasn’t her fault!”
“ It wasn’t my fault!”
He sighs, fingers pressed against his eyes at the succinct cries of innocence.
“Ladies the judge didn’t buy it and I was there so I know what went down. I really loved that restaurant, and now our picture is on another no entry list.” The attempt at stern failed him though as he grins at the memory.
His eyes open to you shrugging, unmoved, and very unrepentant “ Yeah well apparently Miss New York’s special talent isn’t quite a real world applicable as mine.”
“Love, you took karate when you were six, twice... and promptly broke your foot. How about we find some peace karate kid?”
You still don’t relent and honestly it’s one of his favorite things about you. “I told her to run,it’s not my fault she didn’t utilize a gracefully extended head start!”
“She didn’t even threaten me, or touch me! I wasn’t even in danger.” His rebuttal was weak though, because he knew what was coming next, and aside from Steve he’d never had someone defend his character so fiercely.
Venom seeps from your words. “ I heard what she said, I heard her say those vile things about you, how you didn’t deserve to see daylight. Peace was never an option Bucky.”
Another sigh escapes him, but he’s grinning. “Oh my god you’ve been spending too much time with Steve...I can’t emotionally support you both. I may be a super soldier but my blood pressure has to have limits.”
“ No, you’re good. We read the files, studies, scientists’ cliff notes, all of it. We’re very thorough, very considerate. You should, however, watch your oxalates, a man your age is very prone to kidney stones. Probably some calcium for your bones,”
“ Concerned for my bones, are ya? “ and suddenly his smile is dark. “ Run.”
And so, never one to snub a graciously given head start you scramble down from the barstool and take off.
“ You guys sicken me.”
The call disconnects to the sound of the smoke alarm and running feet.
The end🖤
I don’t know who to tag after so long away, but if you like this check out my page for more💕
It’s been a long… Time lol! Hey! So this has been sitting in my drafts for a very long time. Thanks to my amazing friend @whimsicalrogers, I am going to start writing again!!
Thank you, @whimsicalrogers, for my divider and icon!
This is part two, so if you haven’t read part one, check it out here:
Part 1: Swap Our Places
Warnings: None right now
Ships: Bucky X no one right now
Bucky Barnes Masterlist
Bucky blinks and looks around
“Buck, you okay?” He looks at Steve and nods, where was he? Bucky looks around, he was…
“We lost you for a moment there you okay?” Bucky nods as he goes back to discussing the upcoming mission with The Commandos. Bucky looks over the maps and nods that everything looked good on his end.
A pair of brown eyes and a smile flashed in his head. He stops. Where was that coming from? Her smile was beautiful; she wasn’t any dame he’d ever seen. His eyes take in her beauty. Those big brown eyes. Bucky was lost by them.
“Buck, did you hear me? We are going to zipline down to the train.”
Bucky nods,s still seeing that smile and those big brown eyes.
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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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