the look on his face is priceless
"I was screaming?" 😂
But can we talk about how this is dad!Bucky? How proud he is that he still makes you scream? But he rushes to his baby girl when he hears her crying. He took care of you and now he needs to take care of her. It breaks his heart when either of his girls cry.
When she tells him why she's crying, of course he has to get you because it's equal parts hilarious and endearing.
"Yeah, so, I think you should go talk to her. If you can still walk." 😏
You manage.
There's still a proud smile on his face as you comfort your daughter and explain to her that you're okay. And the nod of approval when she mentions pizza. A satisfied wife, a sweet daughter, and pizza. What more could he want?
Love and thanks! ❤️
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This is How I Say Goodbye | stucky au
summary: modern stucky au where bucky and steve is a married couple. steve is an art lecturer who travels regularly for work, and this is like bucky's sweet yet bitter farewell for steve in the airport. it’s written in bucky’s pov:)
warnings: nothing, just fluff and romance
author’s note: idk how fic on tumblr works, but this is my first writing of stucky, so pardon all the imperfections🤧
THE night before your flight to Boston, I pack some of your clothes because I see how you're already fast asleep and haven't emptied your suitcase from your last trip. I wake you up at the crack of dawn by softly nudging your arm under the blanket and kissing your cheek. When you take a hot bath, I put my hand on the other side of the bed, and feel the warmth your body has left. By the time you finish bathing, I already prepare your favourite breakfast and put it on the dining table with a hot tea ready on the side. We sit across each other, and I listen to you talking about your research, classes, issues from your respective department, and plans for our trip.
"How about we go to Musee d’Orsay next month?" You say. "Where is it?" I say. "Paris," you replied. "Oh, I've never been to Paris." My eyes widen. "But... that's so far. You think you have time for that?" I look into his blue eyes. "Don't worry, I've scheduled most of my lectures on Friday. So, I'm all yours next month." He reaches my hand to hold it. A small relief in my chest. "It’s a beautiful art museum. I think you would love Monet and Renoir." He smiles. I smile back and nod in approval. I have never heard of Monet and Renoir. And truthfully, I don't even understand art – though I wish I do. I just love absorbing the beauty in your voice. How it speaks to me about shades, shapes, lines, tints, colors, brush strokes, hues, and shadows of a painting. Those deeper meanings which my eyes can't see, but only yours can.
The next thing I know is, we sit side by side on the backseat of a yellow cab. It is raining in Brooklyn – the car horns around us are blaring madly, and still, after 20 minutes later, the traffic doesn't move. I watch you slowly closing your eyes, taking a short nap on my shoulder, and relaxing your muscles. I fix my gaze upon your face, too busy adoring the shape of your nose, lips, jawline, and cheekbones. I want to slow things down, if I could, and feel the gentle weight of your upper body leaning onto me for the next morning. But I know it's impossible.
Upon our arrival, we order two cups of coffee, walk towards the terminal, and sit with our legs tangled on your big suitcase.
Often, in the airports, I used to look at people passing me by and think, it must be such a lonely and melancholic job: to cast farewell upon others and to separate their hearts by a distance. I can’t imagine, what if I were the one who had to do such thing every single day? Or every week, or every month? That must be pretty awful. But isn’t it funny how life teasing you in a humorous way, leading you to a certain person, and surprising you in ways that you've never expected? Because right here, and right now, I am one of those people in the airports after marrying you.
Finally, when your boarding anouncement comes up, I notice that guilt look on your face – the one that I've familiarized myself with everytime we have to separate our ways. I squeeze your hand and smile to assure you that I will be alright. I know you will always send me gifts, letters or postcards from faraway places when you travel; foreign cities that I've never stepped myself into – from Taipei, Munich, Tokyo, Kyiv, Jakarta, you name it. Sometimes they will reach me in a week or two. Other times, in random timings and intervals; i have no idea which delivery service provider you are using. But I love them so much, and I store them safely in a box like a family trinket, or a rare, shiny jewelry from a vintage shop. I know it's not so much to fill in your absence at home, but it makes me feel as if you're near with me.
"I'll miss you," you say, as you kiss my forehead and hug me tight. Somehow, that makes my lips curve in a small smile. Even though I've heard those words like a million times, I know I'll never get tired of hearing it from you. Just because it sounds right. Because it means you'll keep me in your thoughts. Because we both know that each word carries the same weight, meaning, and importance for both of us.
"Listen, I put an extra pair of socks in your case. The black ones. And um, what's that thing for your asthma? Nebu... Nebulizer. The Pulse Ox is in your medication kit. I also put your umbrella in your carry-on, since you know, you always forget to bring your umbrella. And-"
"Buck."
"I think your inhaler is in, uh..." I close my eyes to think.
"James Buchanan Barnes."
"Yeah? Sorry. Come again?"
We stood in silence for a moment, before a small laugh tumbles out of you. I tilt my head in confusion, but you just start brushing my cheek and smile warmly at me.
"Thank you for packing them, sweetheart. But aren't you supposed to say 'I'll miss you too, Steve’?”
I look at him and feel my cheeks growing hot, then suddenly, we found ourselves giggling at each other.
"I gotta go, Bucky."
"Mhmm, I know. Please be careful."
You kiss my forehead again, and slowly, I watch your broad back turning and walking away from me. My heart begins to ache as your figure is getting smaller, and smaller before completely turning into a chaotic blur. I can feel the emptiness enveloped me from all corners of the airport room. I know this day will always come - you, hopping to another airplane, meanwhile I, having to ditch my sadness as I slip to another day. So here, I promise myself that everything is going to be okay. It has to be.
On my way back home, sitting in a cab alone, I was looking at the skyscrapers and tiny rain droplets on the window, when suddenly, I receive a text from you.
Steve: Hey, just want to let you know that I miss you already! And the next rainy season, when I'm in Brooklyn, I'll make sure to kiss you upside-down. Spiderman-style :)
I chuckled to that and feel something inside me softening. A happy tear escapes from the corner of my eye, rolling down on my cheek. I realize that even though the downpour hasn't stopped, and the gray clouds are floating freely above me, I can feel the world is showering me with glittering pixie dust.
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