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rqgnarok · 9 months

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catalogue - sam wilson

fandom: marvel, the falcon & the winter soldier

wc: 4,368

warnings: implied smut, mentions of injuries and scars, blood and bruises. neutral pronouns, no use of (y/n).

summary: you and sam don’t get to see each other often, but when you do, there’s a ritual you insist on going through to deal with your time apart.

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

You’re a sight for Sam’s sore eyes.

He hasn’t seen you in over six months. It’s an occupational hazard, he knows, but it’s the worst. Being the Falcon made his personal life take a step back in his list of priorities, and becoming Captain America meant setting the list on fire and declaring Sam Wilson’s downtime practically nonexistent. As far as he’s aware, Sarah and the boys are the only exceptions to the rule.

It’s not all on him. You’re an Avenger, too, even if you’re semi-retired. Semi, because the new kids still look for guidance as much as they can and you still keep a room at the Avengers compound because of it, even if scarcely decorated.

You make your entrance by scaring the shit out of him because of course, you have to.

“Is this what you call watching your six?”

Sam puffs out a sound between a scoff and a laugh. It’s always an interesting mix of emotions with you, Sam has never felt so safe and yet unbalanced than when he’s in your presence. It creates a sort of vacuum in his belly that has him feeling like a kid with a crush, but he’ll die before he ever admits that to anyone. Especially you.

“You know you don’t have to sneak up on me every time.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you quip, raising your brows and extending a hand that Sam takes to haul himself back on his feet. You click your tongue. “Gotta say, though, it’s a little less charming now that you’re Captain America. Where does that leave national security?”

Sam rolls his eyes so hard he’s about to give himself a headache, dusting off his ass and giving you a quick once-over, taking advantage of your sudden closeness to do so freely. “Thank Jesus the world still has you, then.”

“Only half time,” you shrug, unaware that Sam knows you’ve spent more time at the Avengers compound than your own apartment lately. If he has a few eyes that check up on you when you’re there, well. It’s only cause he worries. “You and Barnes playing in the Big Leagues leaves a lot of unfinished business for little guys like us.”

“Says the little guy who’s been to space,” Sam uses the same argument he always does when you try to downplay your importance in the job you do. It’s like a script, these meetings of yours, always under the excuse of responsibility until it’s not– until the conversation flows into what Sam has been aching for since the last time he saw you.

You roll your eyes like he knew you would. You’ve been an Avenger since before they had the name for it, so if anyone deserves the semi-retirement, Sam concedes, it’s gotta be you. He won’t pretend it won’t be a big hit when you choose to walk away completely, though. Whether that’s to the business or Sam’s life, well. That’s another conversation.

He misses you. It’s hardly a crime.

“And they’ve still got us doing intel like we’re rookies,” you shrug, lessening your significance anyway. As if you weren’t up there in the cosmos chasing after freaking Thanos, but Sam won’t argue with you about this. You already spend so little time together to waste it building conflicts between you.

“Please,” Sam’s a professional, so he doesn’t make a bitchface and say girl with disbelief coating his tone, but judging from the amusement that glints in your eyes, you read through the lines with ease. “Like we’d let the children anywhere near this.”

“Okay, Dad,” you snort. “How are Torres and Barnes anyway?”

“The kid and his grandpa are fine,” he goes for annoyed but his grin is boyish and unrestrained. “Jealous they weren’t authorized to drop by. This is practically a vacation, you know.”

You shake your head, but all in good fun. “If your bosses have you thinking that then you desperately need some real downtime.”

“This is as close as it gets, these days.”

Torres had flown him all the way to Switzerland just so Sam could go and spend a few weeks in a rustic, semi-abandoned town on the outskirts of the city where an old SHIELD safehouse still stood against all odds.

Why he had to go to the other side of the world for some intel, he asked and got no answer. Now it comes to mind how he has no idea where you– his contact– have been stationed lately nor what kind of work you’ve been pulling for whoever it is you answer to these days.

You don’t tell him about it, and he’s quit on trying to ask. Whether it’s because you don’t think he’ll approve of what you’re doing or because it’s strictly classified, Sam doesn’t know.

“Blink twice if they’re holding you hostage,” you say in all seriousness, and he peels his eyes at you without blinking, getting close to your face. You laugh, pushing him away. “Alright, alright, I get it. You’re one with the nation. Let me show you these files and see what Mr. America makes of ‘em.”

The physical files you actually bring with you are minimal, and most of the data you’ve been ordered to skim through is kept in a USB you hand to Sam as soon as the coffee has kicked in. Neither of you are exactly sure what it is you’re looking for so you’re stuck in the studio of the tiny, look-at-me-wrong-and-I’ll-crumble safe house for over three whole days before you finally start gathering some worthy intel.

“I was told we’d known when we found it,” you shrug, not visibly bothered by the fact that you’ve most likely been sent on a wild goose chase. “Or if we didn’t. We might go back empty-handed after all.”

It’s not encouraging but it’s what you’ve got, even if Sam isn’t sure he’s able to be out of commission for that long. He’s realized people get antsy when Captain America isn’t seen somewhere in the world after a few days, but despite how hard he tries he’s not able to be in two places at once.

“Yet,” he tells you when you take a food break and you allow him to rant about these troubles. “Haven’t figured it out yet, but Steve kind of managed it after a few years, right?”

“Steve was superhuman,” you remind him helpfully behind your coffee cup. You’d found some old whiskey at the back of a cabinet and doused your drink with it, so you make a face when it goes down.

“You don’t think I’m super?”

“I think you’re something, alright.”

“Aw. That was almost a compliment.”

“Can’t let it get to your head, hotshot. Ego’s already too big for your body.”

It’s so fucking domestic Sam feels the ache of it in his teeth. You, sitting at the table in your tiny kitchen while he sits on the counter, each drinking your coffee how you like it as the sun sets through the window above the sink. Talking for hours until you realize you’re practically sitting in the dark as the afternoon flew by while you were taken with each other’s company.

But then you go back to looking at intel until your eyes are burning and you excuse yourself to pass out on the couch. You do it almost half an hour to the dot before Sam gives up himself, and he’s pretty sure you know enough of his tells to know when he’s getting tired and make an early escape so he doesn’t take the couch himself.

“You take the bed,” he’d offered the first night, having a little trouble not making it sound like an order. By how you’d raised your eyebrow, he’d failed by a mile. “God knows where you’re sleeping these days. It’s the least I can do after dragging you all the way out here.”

“You’re the one who keeps saying he’s on vacation,” you take your bags from his hands and drop them unceremoniously on the coffee table, marking the living room territory as yours. “And I’m sure the US government will kill me if I bring you back with a fucked up back.”

He almost suggested you could share. You have before, both out of necessity and leisure, but Sam’s sure that topic’s on the list of Things Not To Talk To You About. It might be the first one up there, in all caps and underlined with bright red.

Sam has both held you down to fuck your brains out and held your bleeding body in his hands, pressing against a gunshot wound to keep blood flow to a minimum. It’s a fucked up type of intimacy he doesn’t share with anyone else, but he’s still hesitant to bring it up. Somehow both events keep happening whether he intends for them or not.

It’s like he’s waiting for the shoe to drop, and it finally does on the fifth day of your assignment.

You ultimately get a lead from the USB. It guides you to search for a random code you insist it’s on a file you’d read through already. You make a noise of victory under your breath when you spot it across the table and when you shift to reach for it, your breath hitches.

It’s a quiet thing Sam wouldn’t be able to acknowledge if he weren’t good at his job, but he is.

“What is it?” he asks, suddenly alert, fingers twitching with the urge to hover over you worriedly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head. Whatever shadow of hesitance had fallen over you is pulled back into place, tucked away for Sam to blissfully ignore.

You both know that shit won’t fly, but Sam thinks it’s cute you try anyway.

He stares at you and you avoid his eye long enough, face buried in the file, to know you know he’s noticed. It’s a silent request to let it pass.

Tough fucking luck. Sam calls your name, admonishing.

“Sam,” you say right back at him in the same tone, still not looking at him. Sam grinds his teeth in annoyance, jaw tight.

“Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine. You know how it is.”

It’s not a no.

“I do know,” Sam agrees, but his mood’s a short fuse. “Are you grounded? Is that why you’re here? Because you’re hurt?”

Fucking jackpot. You exhale through your nose and tighten your jaw at the question but refuse to answer. You’re a couple of feet apart, divided by the desk filled with files and information, but somehow this is the closest he’s felt to you since you got here.

You’d been hiding something since the beginning; taking the couch when you could’ve been sharing the bed from the start, touching him less than usual so things wouldn’t go further, and moving around the house with rigid, calculated movements.

“Manning the desk,” he says with a little too much bite, and he can physically watch your hackles rise; the annoyance in your eyes when they finally meet his, the biting of your cheek to stop yourself from rising to his sudden passive-aggressive hostility. “Handing me files, giving me intel. You’re flying halfway across the world to keep yourself out of the field.”

“Sam,” you say through gritted teeth.

“You’re hurt,” he replies, not a question, nodding at your torso. It’s all suddenly painstakingly clear, the past week flashing through his mind like a movie from a different point of view. “And you’re hiding it from me, for some reason.”

“Is that all, Captain?” you ask, creating distance with the use of his new title in a way he despises and you know he does. You’re good at that, finding where it hurts and pressing methodically until the skin gives. Sam’s just not used to the trick being used on him. “Or is there something else about my person that you’ve figured out and have yet to enlighten me about?”

“Let me see,” he ignores you. It's easier than trying to match your level of cruel cleverness. He stands to cross over to your side of the desk, staring down at you expectantly with arms crossed. “Come on, show me.”

“No,” you deadpan, but the way you wrap your arms carefully around yourself shows the defensiveness underneath your nonchalance. “Sam, come on, what the hell are you doing?”

“If you’re not hurt, then show me,” he insists but doesn’t reach to touch you without your permission. It’s a line he won’t cross.

“Is that an order, sir?” you snap.

“I’m not your superior,” he replies, even though he is, technically, but not when you’re alone. Not when you’re hurt. “I’m your friend. And right now my friend is in pain, I’d like to be able to do something about it.”

“Like what?” you ask, and it’s as exhausted as it is conflictive. Thunder rumbles outside the house and inside Sam’s chest, two storms coming in. “Huh, Sam? What are you gonna do? It’s part of the damned job. Don’t tell me you’re injury-free right now.”

Sam isn’t. Both old and newer scars put a heaviness on his body he’s not supposed to carry, but he’s not the one hiding right now.

“I can hold you,” he offers and watches the way you look away, imagining the sting in your eyes as they glisten with sudden tears. You very visibly refuse to shed them, tightening your jaw and passing saliva like it’s gravel. “If you’d let me. Let’s not pretend we haven’t done it before.”

“It’s different now.”

“Why?” he wonders, brow furrowing. He does his best to relax his stance and reaches to touch your tight fists where they lay on your lap. With his fingertips barely there on your skin, the tension bleeds out of them like magic almost against your will. “Because I’m Captain America? Because you won’t tell me where you’re stationed half the time?”

“It’s–”

“Classified,” he finishes for you, unmoved. “But you’re still you, and I’m still me. As far as I’m aware, that doesn’t change a damned thing.”

You close your eyes like the words pain you, resolve crumbling right before Sam’s eyes. “I don’t wanna fight with you.”

“Then don’t,” from Sam’s perspective, it’s as simple as that. “Let me see. Let me be with you, please. The last week has been torture.”

You let out a breath of a laugh that’s a little too miserable. “You’re telling me,” you say, and the slope of your shoulders falls from its tense, defensive curve. Sam takes it as the green light it is.

You stand straighter as he kneels in front of you, his hands hovering over the hem of your shirt. He looks to you for permission and you give him a tight nod, staring at the wall instead of him, gulping down your anxieties.

Sam’s breath catches when he lifts your shirt and sees your torso, skin showered in black, blue, purple, and green bruises. “Jesus.”

“It’s worse than it looks,” you say automatically. Sam can’t see how that’s true. It looks like it hurts to even breathe, it’s unbelievable how you were able to hide it from him for so long. “Nothing’s broken, I swear.”

“What the hell happened?” he asks even if he knows you can’t– or won’t– answer. You sigh, and he watches blemished skin shake with the effort it takes.

“I’m alright,” you say instead of the answer he wants, but your voice has softened and lost all fight response. It’s the most vulnerable you’ve been with him since you arrived and it has nothing to do with showing your skin. “Hey, I’m okay. That assignment’s over for good. I’m not going back there, I promise.”

The sigh of relief Sam lets out is shaky and doesn’t relinquish all the tension he’s been carrying. The possibilities of what must’ve happened are gonna haunt him long after this mission’s over.

“I hate it,” he says, and he knows you know what he means. Not knowing where you are, spending more than half the year apart with zero contact, this unease between you that doesn’t let you be honest.

You say, tired. “I know. Sam–”

Sam isn’t touching you– not yet. He’s careful so there’s no skin-to-skin contact, and you look at him with guarded eyes when he lowers your shirt back into place, standing up and towering over you.

“What?”

You breathe air out of your nose, frustrated. “You know.”

A beat. “You sure?” he says, as plainly as he can with the tension that’s grown between you pulling him forward.

“Yes.”

He hums.

“Oh. You gonna let me touch you now, then?” he asks, still under the excuse of medical purposes only. But Sam can’t help the way his voice deepens, molten like honey. His eyes trail over skin that isn’t blemished: the curve of your neck, the lines of your arms, the slope of your fingers.

You shiver under the attention, helpless to hide such a reaction to his voice. “Mmm? Honey?”

“Fuck you,” you say automatically, already opening your legs slightly for Sam to slip in between them, reaching for your jaw. You close your eyes at the touch, sighing away whatever tension remained in you.

You’re too fucking easy, despite the fight you insisted on going through before letting yourself be touched, and something in Sam’s belly tightens at the idea of it being just for him.

Sam’s hands remain on your jaw and throat as he tilts your head up for a kiss, slow and deep, lingering. It’s not long before you open up for him, his tongue sliding into your mouth like it was always meant to be there, coaxing a whine from you while you search for steadiness and settle your hands on his belt. Not pulling, not searching for more– not yet– but keeping him close.

The storm comes and goes and the files in the studio remain forgotten. Sam finally gets you on the bed and, better yet, with him in it.

He’s a little too careful, hands cupping your ribs with extreme caution after finally getting rid of your shirt for good and laying you down against the sheets. You roll your eyes fondly and grab onto his wrists to direct him where you want him.

He doesn’t complain as he takes your directions. The man will greedily take anything you give him in calloused, expert hands as he does his best to pull sounds out of you that are music to his ears.

After it’s over, you both lay in bed, naked and breathless. You find a new scar on him and trace the ragged line of skin gently with your fingertip, touch featherlight, almost nonexistent. It’s been over half a year since you last did this, but only a couple of months since he got himself injured and stitched up by Bucky in the Brazilian jungle. “This one’s new.”

It had been a quick job, good enough considering the circumstances, which is to say Sam now has an ugly, uneven scar a couple of inches above his hipbone that saved him from bleeding out on his partner.

The memory holds no gentleness, but your fingers do. The haze of his previous orgasm leaves Sam pliant under your touch, melted against the sheets and uncaring of your scrutiny. “Barnes?”

Sam makes an affirmative noise, a valid enough question since sometimes he’s admitted to doing patchwork on himself for the sake of the mission, uncaring of how bad it hurts as long as it’s quick and efficient.

“Did it hurt?”

“Like hell,” he admits, feeling safe enough to do so in the cocoon you’ve built for yourselves. Sam runs a hand up and down your naked back as if trying to soothe the brunt of the memory. “Did the job, though. Got us out alive.”

At that, you lean to kiss the skin, only slipping a bit of tongue into it. Sam sighs, ignoring the prick of discomfort that’s trying to crawl up his spine and leaning towards the softer, more tender sentiment that takes over him whenever you get like this. It’s not easy for him to accept such gentleness, to let himself be cared for and lay there, unable to give something back.

He will, in a minute. But he knows you like him like this, and that alone pins him down in his place to let you work. It’d be hypocritical of him, he thinks as his hips twitch with renowned interest, to not let you fret after him when his own worry is what got you here in the first place.

After you’re satisfied, you trail the path Sam’s grown accustomed to, the very same you follow every time you sleep together after a terribly long amount of time:

The knife scar under his pec from when they were chasing after Bucky, still the Winter Solider, superficial enough not to have caused concern at the time. The mark from when he got his appendix out, thinking nothing of the stabbing aches to his belly until he was doubling over in his bed and waking up half his platoon as he retched in the bathroom.

The dot on his finger where Riley accidentally stabbed him with a pencil once, sleep deprived and with two shots of whiskey on him. The wound had healed with ease but the mark made a permanent home on his skin, barely visible unless you leaned in close enough to look for it.

The scab on his knee from falling off his bike when he was six. Sarah had screeched bloody murder until their parents came out of the house to see what all the fuss was about. The scar left behind by a bullet on his right shoulder during his second tour in Afghanistan.

The cut on his lip he got shaving for the first time is always last on your list. Sam has long stopped calling you out on it, how convenient it was that the cataloging of his scars always ended with a thorough, slow kiss to his mouth that usually bloomed into a second round.

He found that you got skittish when he did so, pulling back into yourself and laying tensely in bed for a couple more minutes before you started looking around for your clothes, called out.

Now Sam only cups your jaw, tugs a little so it opens your mouth and he can slip in his tongue and steal a taste of your sigh. He wants you like this for as long as possible; vulnerable, unguarded, desperate to touch him and be touched back. Safe enough to know that you never have to ask for something he wants to give you so willingly.

You always forget. The second you meet again, you have to start the whole dance over. Fish for excuses to meet each other in the middle, hoping for new scars to lengthen your time together.

Sam isn’t a masochist by any means, and he’s not an adrenaline junkie asshat who chases the danger just to have proof on his skin that he can take all the grievances life throws at him.

But. But–

“We’re alright,” you say against his mouth, body warm and seeking on top of his. He’s mindful of your injuries but can’t help himself, the urge to touch you overrules any other instinct he owns. It makes him weak, on the field, but happy off of it. “Aren’t we? We’re gonna be alright.”

“‘Course we are, honey,” his southern charm pops out and you’re both parts equally pleased and unamused, a funny expression on your face that has him laughing as he cups the back of your neck to bring you in for another kiss. “What? What’s with the face?”

“Nothin’, pumpkin,” you imitate his accent and Sam focuses his ministrations on your jaw and neck, trying to get you to break character. “We’re gonna be just fine, sugar plum. You’re sure lookin’ very pretty tonight, peach fuzz.”

Sam splutters out a laugh. “Peach fuzz?”

“That’s what you sound like!”

“See if I ever call you something nice ever again.”

“You can’t resist me,” you say seriously, though a smile keeps trying to break your facade. “You literally lasted five days before taking me to bed. That’s on being weak, Wilson.”

“Some might say it’s a world record for me, baby,” he says, poking at your face until you show teeth, happy and at ease in his arms. “The six months before that were a little bit of a stretch, too.”

Your mood dampens a little but Sam won’t let it, nudging his nose against yours to catch your attention again. “Hey. What did I just say? We’re gonna be alright. Five days, six months, five years, it’s nothing. They mean shit when I get to see you again.”

The mention of the Snap unguards you further. He’d been gone while you tried to keep your life together, ignoring the Sam-shaped void in your surroundings. The first time you got together after he came back had been tainted by the grief of losing three of the best people you’d ever known, and he’d done his own reconnaissance of your skin as he took in new scars, new hurts that had happened and healed while he was gone.

You smile again, but it’s softer, fonder, a tender tilt of the lips for the man you managed to find in this chaotic line of work that became your whole life.

In another five days, you’ll once more be on opposite ends of the world without any idea of when you’ll see each other again or what new marks you’ll have on your skin that describe your time apart. You haven’t even put a name to this– this relationship that both of you are still too hesitant to define as such, but that’s okay.

It’s okay. It’s more than enough. The path of scars will be there to take when you meet again, permanent proof that you’ve survived to find the way to each other over and over and over again. The map that leads to you, every goddamn time.

___

hi!!!

hope you like this one! i’ve been putting this fic on the back burner for almost a month now, but i’m so glad to finally have finished it! i hope to put out the tommy miller sequel for dial drunk next week before school starts :)

thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, commenting, etc.!

#sam wilson x reader #sam wilson #anthony mackie #marvel fanfic #reader insert #captain america x reader #captain america and the winter soldier #catws #bucky barnes #sebastian stan #joaquin torres #danny ramirez #falcon x reader #leo writes #sarah wilson #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

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kanellebullar · 1 year

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Did you missed them ?

#art #kanellebullar #sam wilson #bucky barnes #sambucky #winterfalcon #buckysam #sam wilson x bucky barnes #bucky barnes x sam wilson #captain america #sam wilson captain america #joaquin torres #falcon #fatws #falcon and the winter soldier #sam and bucky are his dads #boogie woogie woogie

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stcverogers · 2 years

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JULY FIC RECS!

what i’ve been reading and obsessing with over the month of july

this is extremely important and i take this very seriously out of respect for the community. please do remember to read the rules for the respective blogs before interacting with or reading them.

F: fluff A: angst S: smut

𖥻 - series

masterlist

CHRIS EVANS + CHARACTERS

F: the cool kid table by @sarahwroteathing daycare isn't for the cool kids

F: the lonely tree by @sarahwroteathing 𖥻 you are the muse in the back of steve's mind

F + A: lucky charms: hockey au by @drabblewithfrannybarnes 𖥻 a hockey au featuring various chris evans characters

F + A: the watermelon song by @the-bau-quinjet steve doesn't think he's young enough for you

F + A: to live, breathe, fight, and survive by @shmaptainhotchner in the middle of a war, you find out you're pregnant

F: with this ring by @touchstarvedirl babygirl thinks her dad doesn't love her

F: plum cobbler by @the-bau-quinjet 𖥻 steve rogers investigates the strange girl who keeps showing up at the tower with plum cobbler

F + A: sweet home georgia peach by @marvelcriminalhoe 𖥻 you and steve have been seperated for a while, you make the drive back to your hometown to finalise the divorce.

F + A: downshift by @navybrat817 ari levinson thinks you're way too good for his neighbour

F: actors on actors by @astranva you and chris are invited to the variety set for 'actors on actors'

F + A: i trust(ed) you by @likeahorribledream 𖥻 who would have thought yours and ransom's relationship was built upon a lie

F + A: no matter where i lay my head by @rodrikstark screw steve rogers and his friends

F + A: tomorrow by @just-dreaming-marvel 𖥻 you are steve’s greatest strength and greatest weakness.

F + A: on the run by @writing-for-marvel 𖥻 when you let steve and the team seek refuge in your home, the last thing you expected was to go on the run with him

F + A: everything and beyond by @rodrikstark 𖥻 the one where you like steve and steve likes you

F + S: what a world by @onsunnyside 𖥻 steven rogers was raised by the jungle, away from modern society. what happens then when you and a team from stark industries introduce yourself to him?

F: with you, i'm home by @sweetascanbee stuck in your local ikea after a snowstorm, steve rogers becomes your temporary husband

F: moving on by @intrepidacious steve rogers isn't one to speak with his words. instead, he draws.

F: the domestication of steven grant rogers - a study in red, white, and blue by @pedrito-friskito steve rogers is a man out of time, that was till he met a pretty dame in yellow

F: colour my heart by @marvelettesassemblenow the art supplies can't be the only reason why steve rogers keeps visiting the art shop round the corner

SEBASTIAN STAN + CHARACTERS

F + A: nostalgia for the new by @real-jane 𖥻 the first time you meet bucky barnes is when you find him laying in the corridor outside your door

F + A: bad reputation by @likeahorribledream 𖥻 you get a new job at natasha's autoshop and bucky is determined he's going to be the one to marry you

F + A: just one kiss by @sarahwroteathing 𖥻 ever since he was 10, all bucky ever wanted was just one kiss

F + A: mess is mine by @scrumptious-delusion 𖥻 bucky broke your heart five years ago. now that he's a professional boxer and you're happy with where you are in life, a date night out changes that...for the better?

F + A: a world of our own by @shreddedparchment 𖥻 you and the winter soldier are stranded on a deserted island. how will you survive?

F + A: a touch of ink by @deamstellarus 𖥻 you move to a new town hoping to start anew. not only did you fall in love with the place, two brunette boys wormed their way into your heart.

F + A: i'm with you by @wkemeup 𖥻 you cross paths with bucky during a flight delay

S + F: beach bum by @lanadelreyscokewhor3 plums on the beach

F: harmless by @shurisneakers 𖥻 bucky barnes does not get paid enough for this shit

F: drive? by @softlybarnes god damn it, bucky just wants to make out like teenagers

F: little lily by @raysheart bucky barnes does have a soft side afterall

F: well oiled machine by @vxntagedior you get into a car crash and his car is the last thing on his mind

F + A: neighbours by @melwilson bucky's on a mission and he sends you into a flurry of worry

F + A: sunrise by @wkemeup 𖥻 bucky's a retired army vet and finally takes the big step in visiting the local VA centre

F + A: sky full of song by @wkemeup 𖥻 a tale of two pirates

F + A: to build a home by @ussgallifrey 𖥻 bucky barnes and the family he has built with you

A: we deserved an ending by @buckystarlight a letter you wrote to bucky after he fell off the train

F + A: for the love of the game by @pellucid-constellations 𖥻 bucky barnes is a baseball jock, a grade a asshole, and you definitely do not put up with his shit.

F + A: the right for you-niverse by @real-jane 𖥻 when steve leaves you behind for the life he never got to have with peggy, bucky picks up the pieces of your broken heart

F + A: every dream gone by @intrepidacious bucky finally remembers you

TOMMY SHELBY

F + A: i meant no harm by @runnning-outof-time forced into an unhappy marriage, you find solace in little charlie

F + A: is love enough? by @retromafia you refuse to come second for the rest of your life

JOAQUÍN TORRES + MICKEY GARCIA

F + A: el tiempo nos alejó by @rodrikstark even after breaking up, joaquín is still the one person you can always rely on

F: call sign: fanboy by @buckyr00s how mickey got his call sign

F: his secret by @writingdumpster sam and bucky find out about joaquín's secret girlfriend

F: facts by @asgardwinter lines that should have never been crossed, were crossed

MISCELLANEOUS

A: like us by @spookydrreid (spencer reid) spencer finally introduces you to the bau and you don't recieve the reception you though you would

F + A: cursed by @shmaptainhotchner (baron zemo) zemo seeks your home for refuge

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan x reader #chris evans x reader #steve rogers x reader #spencer reid x reader #zemo x reader #tommy shelby x reader #joaquin torres x reader #claire’s fic recs

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buckyismybicycle · 1 year

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Part 3 (FINAL) of Spoil Me, Ruin Me, Keep Me

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Joaquín Torres Rating: Explicit Tags: Age Difference, Silver Fox Bucky Barnes, Daddy Kink, Top/Dom Bucky Barnes, Pining, Pet Names, Jealousy, Requited Unrequited Love, Love Confessions, Slight Angst with a very Happy Ending, Collars, Joaquin’s Slutty Internal Thoughts, Baby Falcon is actually Baby Slut, Summary: Joaquín hates how good they look together. Next to him, she’s so small and demure, looking like someone he could and would dominate. Their kids would have the bluest fucking eyes on the planet.He flies away before he has to hear any more of it or think about any further scenarios.

This is a last instalment of this series! Thank you to everyone for their kind feedback, support and sludging in this rarepair with me 💕

>>READ ON AO3<<

For @badthingshappenbingo I2: “Insecurity”

#buckquin #bucky barnes x joaquin torres #bucky x joaquin #bucky barnes fanfiction #jealousy #insecurity #idiots in love

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t-nd-rfoot · 1 year

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October & November // t-nd-rfoot fic recs

In the two months that I've been on this site, I've read so many amazing fics that I love to this day so I'm starting a monthly list of my fic recs! ✨

Also I want to be able to find these easier than scrolling through my blog

Please let me know if your titles need editing or if you prefer to not be tagged!

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

Prompts "that sounds like you and me right there." by @bucky-barnes-diaries

Drabbles imagine bucky needing cuddles by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord

One Shots Easy by @jadedvibes saturday. by @creativebeang

Series for the love of the game by @pellucid-constellations

Joaquin Torres

One Shots el tiemp nos alejó by @rodrikstark

Rhett Abbott

One Shots rumor by @bonitanightmxres sleep without you by @bonitanightmxres

Top Gun: Maverick

Robert "Bob" Floyd

Drabbles bob handing out candy by @rosesvioletshardy "what's your favorite type of rock?" by @aestheticpearl

One Shots bird strike by @writingdumpster Don't Touch My Boots by @thebirdandthebee drunk by @lorecraft pumpkin carving by @siempre-bucky return to me by @lt-bradshaw Scrapbook by @siempre-bucky The Six Times You Met Bob Floyd in School and The One Time You Didn't by @lt-natrace turducken, a fall story by @demxters

Series fall by @demxters (completed)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin

One Shots Birdstrike by @an-unknown-writers-world Come Hell or High Water by @awaywith-thefaeries Even Though I'm Leaving by @wombtotombx In Sickness and In Health by @fandomxpreferences Nothing to Lose by @topgun-imagines take the day by @siempre-bucky The Best Thing That's Ever Been mine by @sweetlittlegingy worth it by @hangmanbrainrot

Series baby, i'm high octane by @laracrofted (ongoing)

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia

Headcanons Decorating for Christmas HCs by @fanboygarcia Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia dating single mom pilot!reader HCs by @fanboygarcia

Henry Cavill and Characters

Henry Cavill

Drabbles smitten by @hencav

One Shots cute distractions by @hencav

Captain Syverson

One Shots I Told You by @cinebration

August Walker

Drabbles my girls by @keanureevesisbae

One Shots Softy on the inside by @iamemy4

Formula 1

Mick Schumacher

One Shots staying away by @micks-afterglow

Daniel Ricciardo

Series waiting game by @sparkle-d (ongoing)

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cristinatheloser · 1 year

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One thing about me is I’m reading a fic whether or not I’ve watched the show/movie that the certain character has been in! Am I confused half of the time? Yes, but is the character and plot line immaculate?Yes

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madlittlecriminal · 10 months

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Request Rules

THE TOP OF THIS POST IS A WALKING TRIGGER WARNING!

if you would like to read the positive, scroll down until it's green. this is also a rewrite of my old rules since im trying to reorganize my blog

if you go on anonymous, please put an emoji or a letter as your signature :) i don’t care if you make a bunch of requests at a time, i lowkey just wanna put a name on my anons! however, don’t abuse this power or i will have no choice but to remove it whether you make requests on anonymous or not. emojis & letters that have been used: 🦈, 🦔, 💙, 😈, 🐍, 🐉, 🌺, 🐇, 🐰, 🦜, 🌈, 🪐, 🦩, 🤖, 👻, 🦋, ⚡️, ⭐️, 🍊, 🤍, 😎, K, 🎃, H, 🦑, 🪬, 💌, 🩷, 🌸, 🃏, 🧚🏼, 🦆

I only write x reader fics.

these rules involve things i don't write for. if you have questions, feel free to ask! :)

ABORTION: the request i got that featured this topic back in 2020 will forever trigger me.

ABUSE: if it's the character inflicting pain on the reader, no. talking about it for closure or for a better understanding of the person is okay. (mental, physical or emotional)

CHEATING: character doing it to reader or reader doing it to character is a no.

CONSENSUAL NON CONSENSUAL: i know it helps people with their trauma, but it doesn't help me. im sorry

DARK FICS/YANDERE: it makes me uncomfortable

HYBRID: I don’t know, man. i just can’t do it.

INCEST: nothing against people who write it, it just makes me uncomfortable

OMEGAVERSE: i don’t understand it to write about it.

RAPE/SEXUAL ASSAULT: mentions are fine, but description? no.

SOMEONE HAVING CANCER: lost my grandmother to cancer in October 2022 and it still hurts.

WHAT I DO WRITE FOR:

now, i started with triggers first because people apparently ignored them & still requested things that were a big no, but here's what i do write!

ALTERNATE UNIVERSE (AU)/FORBIDDEN RELATIOSHIPS: soulmates, professor/student, any idea that comes to mind, send them in :)

ANY GENDER/SEXUAL ORIENTATION: feel free to send requests with readers that are not strictly female :)

BODY MARKS: stretch marks, moles, freckles, beauty marks, birthmarks!

FAKE RELATIONSHIP: im a sucker for this trope

GLASSES: i feel like there isn't enough fics for us who wear them. reader does NOT have to be a nerd. im not a nerd, but i need them.

HEADCANON: they honestly get my gears grinding for writing

READER BEING A POC: yes please! :)

IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS, FEEL FREE TO ASK! :D

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tom-holland-parker · 2 years

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Heat on High - Cookies

Summary: Deciding to thank Bucky for putting out the fire leads to him asking you out

Pairing: Firefighter!Bucky x Single Mom!reader

Word Count: 853

Masterlist /Series Masterlist/ Previous Part

Two days passed before you had the chance to see bucky. He’d been busy with work so you decided to properly thank him for putting out the fire by delivering homemade cookies. The garage doors to the fire station were open but you hesitated to enter, unsure if you were allowed.

“Can I help you?” You turned toward the unfamiliar voice, the man was tall and stared at you with a smile. Your eyes glanced at his shirt, noticing the firehouse logo on it, “I’m looking for Bucky Barnes”

A look of realization spread across his face as his smile widened, “Are you Y/N?”

You nodded which only made him happier, “My name is Sam. It’s great finally meet you, Barnes will not shut up about you”

You chuckled, “Well I hope he’s only told you good things”

He shrugged, “He should be inside, Follow me”

You trailed behind him not wanting to get lost. Sam kept small talk with you, telling you about the different rooms that you passed and asking you about your day. “There he is” He pointed to where Bucky sat playing cards with the others, “Barnes you’ve got a visitor”

Bucky looked confused but when he saw you his eyes softened, “Y/N is everything okay?” He stood up for his seat, throwing his cards on the table before walking towards you, “what are you doing here?”

“Um” You handed him the container in your hands, “I thought I should properly thank you for putting out that fire so I made you cookies” You watched as the men behind him looked at you then at each other, all trying to hide the smirk on their face, “I would’ve waited until you got home it’s just you’ve been so busy and I’ve been running around with lily and-”

“Thank you” Bucky smiled, setting the cookies on the table. It took all but three seconds for the other firefighters to starting grabbing them and eating, “while you’re here I actually have something for you”

He grabbed your hand, gently leading you further into the building, “We usually give these to the kids but I think you’ll find them useful too” He stopped just outside the office door with the name plate, Lieutenant Barnes. You tried to hide a smile, “this better not be what I think it is”

Bucky laughed as he opened the door. The office was small, a simple desk in the corner and a bed on the opposite side with two duffle bags with clothes folded neatly on it. There were few pictures on the walls but for the most part it was neat and plain. He quickly grabs paper off his desk and hands it to you, “It’s a fire safety pamphlet”

“I’m never making you cookies again” You smiled, nudging his shoulder, “in fact I should take back those cookies”

“Good luck with that, Im sure Sam and Torres have eaten them all”

You grinned and glanced at the clock, “Shit I have to go pick up lily”

Bucky’s smile dropped, sad to see you leaving even though he knows he’ll see you at home, “Let me walk you out” The walk back to the exit was quick, you smiled and waved goodbye to Sam before turning to Bucky, “Well I guess I’ll see you at home”

“My shift doesn’t end till 3am but I’m sure I’ll see you when you leave in the morning” He wanted to kick himself. Why couldn’t he just ask you out like a normal person?

“Okay then” You smiled and started to walk away. Bucky sighed silently screaming at himself to chase after you.

“Are you serious? You’ve been talking our ears off about this girl for weeks and you didn’t even ask her out.” Sam slapped Bucky’s back, “She obviously likes you and if you don’t do it I will”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Shut up Sam, I’m working on it”

“Ya know you could invite her to the opening of the new firefighter museum” Torres spoke, chewing down on another cookie, “We have to go anyway might as well make it a date”

Sam smiled, grabbing Bucky’s phone, “that’s a perfect idea”

“Sam stop it” Bucky moved to take the phone back but it was too late he had already called your number. “Hello? Bucky?” You voice came through the speaker, he could hear Lily giggling in the background

“Hey Doll” Bucky said, trying not to sound awkward, “I’m I was just thinking maybe if you weren’t busy next weekend you’d want to maybe”

“Just do it” Sam whispered giving him a thumbs up

“Be my date to a museum opening” Bucky wanted to slap himself in the face, this was going terrible

You smiled, “Yeah I’d love to, just send me information”

Bucky let out a breath of relief, “Great, it’s a date then, see ya soon”

He hung up quickly, looking over at Sam and Torres who stared at him with stupid smiles. Bucky rolled his eyes as he grabbed the container of cookies “wipe the smirks off your faces and get back to work”

TAGLIST:

@wildxwidow @nelly-belly @marvelgurl @inas-thing @hehehehannahthings @prancerrparkerr @abiseifried @randomwriter1021 @hunnybunimdun @raajali3 @liltimmyst @marvel-ous-miss-maisie @enchantedbarnes

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