Other [ money feelings die ] lou decides to write

[romanoff]

i got inspired by

pasta's thread and being in complete and utter awe and decided to write my own one shot thread. most of these concern either my oc's, marvel ships, or unnamed charas. enjoy.

 

[romanoff]

alright everybody. marvel meta. i love bucky barnes so freaking much, guys.

​

The memories would come back to him as blood splatters against the white walls of his mind that he tried so desperately to keep clean. He didn’t know what was true, or what was planted into his mind as a way to keep him under Hydra’s control.

He remembered the Widow. Her graceful moves that could immediately turn deadly. He remembered the Captain, the most vivid memory being of one chilly winter night and trying so desperately to keep each other warm. He didn’t know where his softness came from.

His time spent in Bucharest had only been one of convenience, where he felt that he could go about doing normal human things like a normal human should and not be terrified that someone would possibly look at him twice. He felt that he had the ability to go to a farmer’s market and be able to... live, without the feeling he was being watched, his every move cataloged and categorized.

He was slowly learning who he was, before. Bucky Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes. He didn’t know if any of those names felt like him anymore.

The days would come and go and he (he wasn’t sure how to refer to himself. The Asset would bring blood and death and cold. Bucky didn’t feel human.) would try and make sure that he was gaining some sort of his humanity back. That he felt he didn’t have to wait for orders to be able to even bathe or pick out his outfits.

(He only wore dark colors. He knew nothing else.)

The nights were always the worst to him. His dreams would be full of memories that would start out hopeful and then the blood would seep in and he would wake up screaming-

He heard the rip of fabric and startled, looked down. The pillow he gripped in his metal hand was half ripped, feathers slowly floating down to his feet as he watched them.

He didn’t remember what he was dreaming about.

 

[dazzling]

alright everybody. marvel meta. i love bucky barnes so freaking much, guys.

​

The memories would come back to him as blood splatters against the white walls of his mind that he tried so desperately to keep clean. He didn’t know what was true, or what was planted into his mind as a way to keep him under Hydra’s control.

He remembered the Widow. Her graceful moves that could immediately turn deadly. He remembered the Captain, the most vivid memory being of one chilly winter night and trying so desperately to keep each other warm. He didn’t know where his softness came from.

His time spent in Bucharest had only been one of convenience, where he felt that he could go about doing normal human things like a normal human should and not be terrified that someone would possibly look at him twice. He felt that he had the ability to go to a farmer’s market and be able to... live, without the feeling he was being watched, his every move cataloged and categorized.

He was slowly learning who he was, before. Bucky Barnes. James Buchanan Barnes. He didn’t know if any of those names felt like him anymore.

The days would come and go and he (he wasn’t sure how to refer to himself. The Asset would bring blood and death and cold. Bucky didn’t feel human.) would try and make sure that he was gaining some sort of his humanity back. That he felt he didn’t have to wait for orders to be able to even bathe or pick out his outfits.

(He only wore dark colors. He knew nothing else.)

The nights were always the worst to him. His dreams would be full of memories that would start out hopeful and then the blood would seep in and he would wake up screaming-

He heard the rip of fabric and startled, looked down. The pillow he gripped in his metal hand was half ripped, feathers slowly floating down to his feet as he watched them.

He didn’t remember what he was dreaming about.

spoo k

good job. 10/10 are spooked

 

[romanoff]

wowie it has been.... a hot minute since i've written on this thread. this is gonna suck, just a little bit. my apologies.

marvel, again. my favorite rarepair: buckythor. don't ask. college au. non-binary bucky barnes.

​

“Sam- Sam, I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me that if Thor stood in front of you, with those sultry bedroom eyes of his, and his- his shirt off, that you would absolutely not climb that man like a freaking tree.”

Okay. So maybe Bucky was a little tipsy. As they tilted their head back to take another shot, that went from “a little” to “a lottle.”

Bucky giggled at their own joke. They thought they were so funny. Sam, who sat next to them, sighed heavily, shaking his head. “Man, the jokes I’m gonna have about this tomorrow. I think you need to cool it on the shots, Bucky.”

“No- I don’t! I am, perfectly functional-” Bucky slurred, before leaning over to poke at Sam’s cheek. “Sammy- Sammy, you’re pretty- oh my God is that Thor-”

“Thanks, buddy, and yeah- that’s Thor, who you are absolutely not going to go harass because you do not need- Bucky, no-”

Honestly, it was as if Sam had to corral an angry cat, which is exactly what Bucky looked like at the moment.

“Listen, Bucky- you can tell Thor he’s pretty later, but please don’t do it now. Please do not do it now. You will not remember it tomorrow morning and Steve is gonna have a heart attack, and please remind me why I thought it would be a good idea to take your nineteen year old, pasty white boy ass out to a bar.” Sam said with a heavy sigh, before turning to Bucky.

“Because you loooooove me, that’s why.” Bucky said with a giggle, before straightening themselves out. “I’m gonna go tell Thor he’s pretty.”

Sam closed his eyes for a second, heaved a great sigh, cursed whichever God that decided to put him through this, before opening them again, opening his mouth to tell Bucky no for the tenth time, before realizing that they were gone.

Oh, God.


-----------------------------------------


Bucky 100 percent knew what they were doing. They were great at flirting. They could totally walk over to Thor and his gaggle of friends, tap Thor on the shoulder, and tell him that he was pretty. Piece of cake.

They made their quick escape from Sam, tilting to the side a little bit as they made their way to where Thor was sitting. They took a deep breath, tapped him on the shoulder, and crossed their arms as they waited for him to turn around.

And when he did, Bucky immediately lost all grasp of the English language.

“Wow… you’re pretty.” They blurted out, before feeling their face redden (was that from the alcohol or from the fact that Thor looked exactly like the sun?) before clearing their throat, making sure they didn’t look as drunk as they actually were.

“Sorry about that. Could you give me a piggyback ride back to my dorm? I think my friend Sam abandoned me.” They said with a pout, listing to the side and almost falling over. They were immediately caught, though, by Thor, and Bucky literally felt like they were gonna die. Thor, on the other hand, was smiling as if this was the best thing to ever happen to him.

Thor’s friends, who Bucky couldn’t really remember the names of at the moment, were snickering to themselves either into their drinks or hidden behind their hands. “Please?” Bucky said, before Thor nodded.

“Why of course, my friend. What dorm do you live in?” Thor said, and immediately unfolded out of the booth in all his six foot three godly glory. Bucky absolutely did not drool a little bit.

“Uhh, I live in Honors. Lincoln?” They said, definitely looking like a fool at this point but no longer caring. Across the bar, Sam had his phone out and was detailing every single event in a long text to Steve, and also included the warning that Bucky was currently being carried home by the Jolly Giant.

Bucky hopped onto Thor’s back with no problem, gave a salute to Sam as the two of them left the bar, and told Thor what their dorm number was before immediately falling asleep on his back.

They vaguely remembered a knock on the door, being gently set into something that felt like a life size marshmallow, and tucked into bed. A note was left on their nightstand that they found the next morning, with a phone number and a little note that read “wow… you’re pretty too. - to”

“Steve? Do you ever… just want to die?”