““I think you realize how much you need to have people that you love. It’s not as much about them loving you - it’s about you needing to love people.””
I don’t want to be divisive but I just need to say it: if you’re not black, I don’t think you can truly understand what this feels like.
You can empathize, and god I thank all of you for doing so, but you don’t feel it.
Not in the way every little black kid’s eyes lit up when they realized people who looked like them had a story to show about bordeline ethereal lands that showed them they came from somewhere beautiful, not just from a fucking boat.
Not in the way so many boys and even grown men felt pride swell in their chest at seeing themselves on screen as a powerful king, as a superhero.
Not in the way black girls and women everywhere felt encouraged to wear their hair out the way it grows from their scalp or shaved or threaded or any way they want to— and boys too!
Not in the way every single product of the diaspora, not just in the United States, saw themselves as something better, bigger, than what we’ve been reduced to over the course of history.
Black Panther came when we needed it the most, and Chadwick Boseman did so fucking much in the times before, during, and after the movie came out. He didn’t get dismiss it as “another superhero movie”. He didn’t “put up” with kids wanting to meet their hero, or older people wanting to express their gratitude because “when I was younger, I never thought I’d see someone that looks like me doing that”. He was key in us being able to feel good about ourselves across the board.
Chadick Boseman isn’t a character, and it would be horrendous to reduce him to such, but we can’t ignore the impact of his presence.
I’ve been crying since I woke up at 3AM to 24 texts telling me about the news in some way or another. I went to bed at 9PM last night, an hour before the news broke. I haven’t slept since then, and I don’t think I’ll be able to at any point today, because, y’all. I just can’t stop feeling.
in the wake of yet another black person being murdered by police, here’s a list of relevant fundraisers and organizations that could use your support right now.
this is specifically a call to action for fellow white people. if you’re white and you’re in any way able to, donate.
George Floyd’s memorial fund
Minnesota Freedom Fund: “We value a society that values its people, their freedom and recognizes their contribution to the greater good. A society that does not condition pretrial freedom on class or identity, that has ended mass incarceration, and that invests in restorative and transformative justice.”
Black Visions Collective, an org that strives to “shape a political home for Black people across Minnesota. We aim to center our work in healing and transformative justice principles, intentionally develop our organizations core DNA to ensure sustainability, and develop Minnesota’s emerging Black leadership to lead powerful campaigns.”
Reclaim the Block, which “organizes Minneapolis community and city council members to move money from the police department into other areas of the city’s budget that truly promote community health and safety. We believe health, safety and resiliency exist without police of any kind. We organize around policies that strengthen community-led safety initiatives and reduce reliance on police departments.”
ways to help protestors if you are unable to protest
everybody has to do their part. as a reference, this was posted on 1 june 2020. if any links are broken or direct to a place they should not, please feel free to add on with corrections. if there is new information with better knowledge, please feel free to share. thank you.
1. donate
do not donate to shaun king. he has repeatedly collected money to “support” black people, but no one knows where the money is.
BAIL FUNDS (ALPHABETICAL ORDER; NOT A COMPREHENSIVE LIST)
note: washington dc and new jersey have cashless bail systems.
bail fund google doc (also includes lawyers for protestors)
national bail fund network (directory of community bail funds)
community bail funds masterpost by @keplercryptids
resistance funds (google sheets; lists bail funds around the country)
nationwide bail funds (split a donation to the bail funds listed on the linked page with a single transaction)
atlanta bail fund
brooklyn bail fund
colorado freedom fund
columbus freedom fund
houston chapter of black lives matter
liberty fund (nyc based; focuses services on people from low-income communities)
los angeles freedom fund
louisville community fund
massachusetts bail fund
minnesota freedom fund (as of may 30, 2020, they are encouraging people to donate elsewhere since they have raised enough money; as of may 29, 2020, they do not have a venmo, as some fraudulent accounts have been claiming, source)
philadelphia bail out fund
richmond bail fund
MORE PLACES TO DONATE
note: more links are listed in the masterposts below.
northstar health collective (healthcare and medical aid for people on the front lines)
reclaim the block (aims to redistribute police funding to help the minneapolis community)
twin cities dsa (provides fresh groceries and hot meals to people in minneapolis)
2. educate yourself
it isn’t enough to sign petitions and reblog/retweet/etc. nonblack people, including people of color, owe it to black people to educate themselves and correct themselves and the people around them on anti-blackness.
note: more links are in the masterposts linked below.
resources and tools regarding racism and anti-blackness (google sheets compilation)
readings on society, racism, the prison system, etc. (twitter thread)
“where do we go after ferguson?” by michael eric dyson
official black lives matter website
3. give out supplies to protestors
people need supplies to protest safely, and even if they bring supplies with them, they can often run out. if you’re able, stock up and hand them out to people protesting. for more supplies to donate, see the “george floyd action” google docs link in section 5.
water bottles (dehydration and heatstroke are not things people should have to deal with alongside bastard cops. if the police in your area are particularly violent or known to use tear gas, get the ones with the sports cap/suction-thing/etc so people can use them as emergency eye-flushes.)
snacks (make sure to take into account that people have allergies of all sorts. foods will have a little label that says “may contain” and then list any potential allergens. write the allergens on the ziploc (or any container you use) in permanent marker, or better yet, write the snacks included in the pack.)
masks (don’t forget there’s still a pandemic going on. also it will aid in deterring facial recognition when the police try to track down protestors, also part two, if the cops use tear gas, wearing a mask (with the combination of a scarf or bandana) will lessen the adverse effects. lessen, not stop.)
bandanas, scarves, etc. and goggles (ski goggles, swimming goggles, etc.) (see above for explanation on the scarves. same goes for the goggles. anti–tear gas and anti–facial recognition.)
clean shirts (for people who are heavily gassed. also helps deter recognition through clothing.)
wound care supplies (band-aids, packets of neosporin packets or a similar antibiotic, alcohol wipes, etc.; if you can, decant bactine into those little travel bottles.)
a sharpie or another type of marker (for writing bail numbers or emergency contacts on arms, hands, etc. it’s not enough to have your city’s bail fund number stored on your phone; the police won’t give it to you to look it up. give people a marker so they can write it down, preferably not washable so it isn’t easily removed.)
IMPORTANT: KNOWING FIRST AID
tear gas: if you’re hit, get out as fast and as soon as you can. take anyone you can with you. the longer you’re in the gas, the harder it will be for you to see, and it can irritate your airways, making it hard to breathe. if you’re hit, don’t run; it’ll only make things worse on your lungs. when you leave the area, take a cold shower. don’t use hot water (it will only reactivate the agent); don’t bathe (it will only spread the CS around). (source 1) (source 2) (cdc fact sheet on tear gas)
move them to a clean and ventilated area where it’s as safe as possible.
ask them if they’re wearing contact lenses. have them remove it. if they’re wearing glasses, rinse it with water.
solution of half liquid antacid, half water. spray from the inside going out, with the head tilted back and slightly towards the side being rinsed. if they say it’s okay, open the eye slightly while doing this. (source)
bullet wounds: the most important thing is to stop the bleeding. be sure to check for an exit wound and cover that as well. treat both wounds, but treat the worse one first.
stop the bleed (youtube video by uc san diego health)
first aid in active shooting scenarios
making a tourniquet (a commercial tourniquet is best, but improvised ones can work as well if done properly; the most important things to remember is that tourniquets are for limb injuries and are not meant for the head or torso and that they have to be very tightly wound on the injury.)
how to apply pressure dressings
miscellaneous
adult cpr tutorial (youtube video by cincinnati children’s; think of “staying alive” by the beegees or “uptown funk”)
4. be a source of information
be responsible with this. people’s lives are at stake. that being said, the media is a fucking joke and the best way to get accurate information in a grassroots rebellion is amongst ourselves. record everything, but if you are going to share any information at all, be sure to blur people’s faces.
signal (encrypted messenger app; messages delete after x amount of time): app store | google play
tool for scrubbing metadata from images and selectively blurring identifiable features
tech tips to protect yourself while protesting (by rey.nbows on tiktok, via vicent_efl on twitter)
cop spotting 101 (google docs)
know your rights (by personachuu on twitter)
NUMBERS TO CALL FOR ARRESTED PROTESTORS (ALPHABETICAL ORDER; SOURCES LINKED TO THE NUMBER)
remember to keep phones OFF unless absolutely necessary. cell phone towers, stingrays, location notifs can all be used to track you and other protestors. don’t fuck around. if your phone must be on, keep it on airplane mode as often as possible and only communicate using encrypted methods. no, snapchat doesn’t count. (a twitter thread on stingrays, for those interested)
lawyers assisting protestors pro-bono (by riyakatariax on twitter)
atlanta: 404-689-1519
chicago: 773-309-1198
minneapolis: 612-444-2654
5. miscellaneous links and links for protestors
masterpost of petitions to sign, numbers to call, places to donate, and more (carrd by dehyedration on twitter)
#blacklivesmatter (google docs by ambivaIcnt on twitter; includes information on relevant events, other masterposts, lists of petitions and donation links, how to protest safely and protests to go to, and more)
george floyd action (google docs; includes information on apps to download, supplies to buy and donate, places to donate to, protest safety, resources on unlearning racial bias, and more)
how to get out of ziptie “handcuffs” (by finnianj on tiktok, via katzerax on twitter)
how can i help? by @abbiheartstaylor
how to make a signal-blocking cell phone pouch
tips for protestors by @aurora00boredealis
twitter thread for protestors (by vantaemuseum on twitter)
also, if you’re protesting, change your passcode. make it at least 11 characters long and don’t use facial/thumb recognition.
fun fact a few months ago I showed this video to my 4 y/o brother and to this day he asks me to play the song (glitter and gold) because he is convinced it is “The Avengers Song™”
Warnings: Like, a handful of swear words, SO MUCH FLUFF AND SO MANY FEELINGS
A/N: I’ve been on quarantine for the last week and I was in a 1940s Bucky mood 🤷♀️ This and this inspired me.
As always, feedback is a very much appreciated and welcomed!!! 💘💘💘
Tick… Tock… Tick… Tok…
The wooden clock, the last thing you had of your granddad’s, sat nestled atop the pink crocheted doily Becca made for you four years ago. She claimed crocheting took her mind off of “it”.
You wrote to him when Becca gave it to you, telling him all about how talented his sister was and how he needed to hurry home so he could boast her up, too.
That’s how you were in the early letters; lighthearted. Blithe. Unfettered that Bucky was thousands of miles away, acting as though he was still at camp in Indiana. Steadfast on the notion that he would be home soon, and you could have your fella back.
Bucky read that particular letter for a few weeks while he was stuck in a trench. Some soldiers ribbed him about the “lovesick look” he gave the pieces of paper. Others shared an understanding pat on his back, as they themselves had memorized every word their sweethearts back home had wrote for them.
He tried writing back to you a few times, tried coming up with something smart to say that he knew would make you laugh… but he couldn’t. He was tired. And scared. And wanted to be home more than he could truthfully tell you.
I’m sorry it’s takin’ me so long, honey. I keep tryin’ to tell ya about what’s going on here, but I can only tell you so much… and none of it is anything you’d want to hear, anyways.
I just miss you, sweetheart.
More than you know.
All my love,
Bucky
Sgt. James Buchanan Barnes, 107th
Two weeks later he was captured.
You stirred beside him, pulling Bucky from long ago memories and into the present. He rolled to his side, gazing at you, memorizing the curve of your exposed back in the early morning light. You clutched the pillow under your arms, a soft hum coming from you.
You took a deep breath, stretching toes as you turned your head away from the window, not ready for the day to begin. Your face scrunched as you dared to open one eye, only to be met with a steely gaze and deep circles, and a warm smile that tried convincing you everything was perfect. You slid your hand across the bed until you met the warmth of his calloused hand and squeezed halfheartedly.
“Why’re you awake?” His smile deepened as he rubbed his thumb over your smooth skin.
“How can I sleep when there’s an angel next to me? If I sleep, I’ll miss it.” A sleepy grin spread on your face, and you huffed a laugh through your nose.
“You’re a real charmer, Barnes.”
“Only for you, sugar.” Bucky felt your hand tighten in his, and he moved your hands towards his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of your finger. You sighed contently and closed your eyes, sleep still fresh in your mind.
“What time is it?” You asked, your face half smushed against the pale blue linen. His other hand brushed the loose curls from your face, the tips of his fingers following the smoothness of your skin down your back.
“Almost six.” You hummed, in acknowledgement or pleasure, he wasn’t sure.
“Can we stay in bed forever?” He grinned and leaned over to kiss your shoulder.
“As long as you don’t hog the covers.” He laid on his back as he watched another lazy grin spread on your face.
“No promises.” Down below, the city was starting to stir, meaning the illusion of peace would be coming to an end for the time being. You groaned and pulled yourself closer to Bucky, seeking his warmth. “We hafta get up soon, don’t we?” Bucky chortled as you squinted up at him.
“’Fraid so, sweetheart.” You groaned softly and dropped your head onto the plains of his chest. He chuckled and rubbed his palm down the back of your head, smoothing your hair. You tilted your head and looked up at him, a tired pout on your face.
“Can you promise me now that we won’t make any plans for the weekend? I need 48 continuous hours with my husband.” An effortless chuckle vibrated in his chest and he stared at you with hearts in his eyes.
“Yes, ma’am.” Happy with his answer, you pushed yourself up, your lips landing on his, quieting the storm that lingered in Bucky’s thoughts. You started to pull away, but Bucky pulled you back in, cupping your face and kissing you like it was the first time. One hand stayed on the bed to keep your balance and the other laid on top of his hand, your fingers going over the metal band on his finger. You pulled back with a gasp, air filling your lungs.
You gazed at each other as you both worked to control your breathing, both forgetting that you needed to start getting ready for the day.
“If you keep kissin’ me like that, we’ll be late and—” Bucky pulled you back, swallowing your words before they had a chance to pass your lips. You moved so he could hover over you and he settled between your legs, rolling his hips.
The day could wait a little while longer.
“Buck?” Bucky blinked, subconsciously shaking his head as he turned to look at Steve.
“Yeah?” Steve studied the man beside him, fear visibly seeping through Bucky’s pores.
Silent fear.
Fear that would never be spoken about to anyone, not even Steve.
Bucky adjusted the hat on his lap and cleared his throat, hoping that distracting himself would make the situation easier.
Steve let out a tired sigh and settled in the spot beside his friend.
“Think your mom made her apple pie for us?” Bucky huffed a laugh, an easy grin spreading across his face.
“Hell… I don’t even remember what it tastes like anymore. Hope she made two, ‘cause I’m not sharing any with you.” They both laughed, loud and freely.
Steve continued before he could stop himself. “Do you think Y/N’s gonna be able to leave the hospital?” Bucky’s laughter quieted, his grin fading away into the frown he’d had the entirety of the boat ride home.
“Yeah. Her last letter said she would.” Bucky had written a letter to his mom, telling her to let you know you didn’t have to be there when they docked, that he’d understand if you were too busy. He shouldn’t have been surprised when just two and a half weeks later, he found a letter from you sitting on his bed.
Foolish.
Utterly stupid.
Completely moronic.
Those were just some of the things you called him in your seven page letter. And Bucky knew it. A part of him knew you’d show, and you had probably talked with the other nurses as soon as you heard his return date so that they’d help cover for you so that you’d be able to be there.
He knew that.
But the other, louder part of him feared that you wouldn’t be there. That, at some point in the years since you had last seen each other, you fell in love with someone new and just couldn’t tell him over writing.
You can’t break up with someone in writing, Bucky, you had told him his last night home, so if you wanna break up, you have to do it now. But save your breath because I won’t accept it anyways.
Or, maybe what he feared most would be how you looked at him. Would you still see him as the same kid he was when he left, or would you only see the shell of who was left?
Someone shouted about seeing the Statue of Liberty and the ship broke out in cheers.
They were home.
Cloudy, warm water sat in the basin as Bucky took long, steady strokes down his face. He hadn’t shaved in almost a week, much to his mother’s dismay. When she dropped off a casserole earlier in the week, she, in that way that mothers do, stared in quiet disappointment at his jaw, never saying a word, but getting her point across perfectly.
Bucky finished shaving and wiped his face with a fresh towel and stared at himself in the mirror, resting his hands on the cool porcelain, his fingers curling over the edge. The circles under his eyes seemed darker and more noticeable with no beard to take all the attention.
“Honey?” You knocked on the door twice as a courtesy, and pushed the bathroom door open, “I finished ironing your shirt.” You smiled and brought in a cup of coffee just how he liked it. “It’s hanging up on the door.” You hummed in subdued surprise and stepped into the small yellow bathroom and smiled at Bucky in the mirror, your free hand running across his lower back as you stood beside him. “You look nice.”
Bucky grinned as he took the mug from your hand and took a drink, the hot beverage instantly soothing his mind.
“Thanks, baby.” He set the coffee down on the shelf under the mirror and took the drain out of the sink, setting the stopper up to dry. Your fingers ghosted over his left shoulder and he tensed, inhaling sharply. His head turned quickly and he stared at you, an apologetic grimace on your face.
“Sorry… Are they botherin’ you?” You stared closely at the angry scars that littered his arm, looking for any sign of irritation that might be causing his discomfort.
He knew what you meant. Wanted to know if they were hurting him in any way, not just tangibly. After Switzerland, doctor’s had been able to save his arm, but the scars and pain that it left him made him wonder if it was worth it. They told him he suffered damage to his nerves, so he’d never be able to use his left arm the same way.
But when his arm started to heal a few weeks after his surgery, the doctors were bewildered.
Amazing, they’d told him.
It wasn’t. Not really. It was just another reminder of what he went through when he was captured.
“No… they’re fine.” Your eyes flashed to his, giving him chance to change his answer. “I’m just anxious about my interview.”
“Oh, Buck, you’re gonna knock it outta the park! I guarantee they don’t let you leave without hiring you on the spot!” You turned to face each, taking his hands in yours. He squeezed your hands and watched his thumb rub over your knuckles.
“What do I tell ‘em? ‘My wife thinks I’m great, so you hafta hire me?’” You chuckled and shook your head.
“No, just tell ‘em I make the best chocolate cake, so they be glad they hired you come the holidays.” Bucky chortled, skimming his thumb over the gold band on your finger. “Tell them you’re the best mechanic they’re ever going to find, and not hiring you would be the dumbest thing they could do,” you pulsed your hands, “I can go to lunch early if you want me to walk with you to the interview?” Bucky let out a long sigh and finally met your gaze.
“That’s okay, sweetheart. I wouldn’t want you to be late gettin’ back to the hospital.”
“’S not that big o’ deal. I’ll have one of the girls cover for me if I’m not back.” He gave you that soft smile, that smile that told you he wanted to tell you no, but didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You took a deep breath and studied him, reaching up to wipe the small bit of shaving cream that lingered by his ear. “Fine… I’ll stop, I’ll stop.”
“Thanks, Y/N,” a gentle kiss to your forehead and you separated, Bucky taking his coffee and going to the bedroom to get dressed. You stared at yourself in the mirror, wondering if you were simply making up the annoyance Bucky held for you, or if it was factual, and now he was stuck with someone who pestered him.
He’ll talk to you if he wants to, Y/N, your friends affirmed, don’t take it personally. My Johnny does the same thing. They all do it.
Not Bucky.
Your Bucky shared his soul with you years ago, and now he was hiding it from you, and nothing hurt you more.
Bucky left the apartment at the same time as you, not needing to, but not knowing what else to do with his time if he stayed at the apartment.
He showed up at the auto repair shop two hours early and settled on the bench just outside the front door, attempting to read the newspaper he bought on the way there.
It was going terribly.
He wasn’t able to get past the first paragraph without getting caught up in his thoughts and losing focus. He tried reading about the new player the Dodgers just bought thirty times before he gave up and watched the birds up in the trees.
The bell chimed above the door and an older man in grease covered denim coveralls, wiping his hands with a rag, stood in the doorway looking Bucky up and down.
“You here for the interview?” Bucky stood up quickly, smoothing out his brown suit and taking off his hat, holding it to his stomach.
“Yes, sir.” He raised a brow.
“You’ve been sittin’ out here for nearly an hour. Don’t have anything better to do?”
“My wife told me if I break her radio again, she’ll put me out on the street.” The man chuckled, still wiping grease and grime from his hands. He stuffed the rag into his back pocket and extended his right hand to Bucky.
“I’m Walter, but everyone calls me Walt.”
“James, but friends call me Bucky.”
“Ya got a strong grip. Well, Bucky, come with me, we’ll go to my office.” Bucky grabbed the newspaper and folded it quickly, following Walt through the front door. They took a short walk through the garage and went into Walt’s office that sat in the back corner of the shop, giving him the best view of everything in the garage. Walt motioned for Bucky to sit in one of the worn wooden chairs in his office and shut the door behind them.
“I didn’t mean to make ya change your schedule for me. I woulda waited until it was time.” Walt chuckled gruffly, waving Bucky off as he sat in his swivel chair, the wood creaking as he settled.
“I felt sorry for ya. Guys were makin’ bets on how long it’d take ya to come inside.” Bucky chuckled, shrugging off his embarrassment.
“Who won?”
“Me. They’re out gettin’ me a Coke as we speak!” Bucky laughed and relaxed in his chair, his nerves not consuming him for the moment. “So, tell me about yourself, Bucky.” Bucky rattled off facts about himself: where he served, what he did overseas, how long he was overseas, and where he got his training when he got back home. Walt raised his hand, cutting Bucky off. Bucky stopped talking and Walt lowered his hand, resting it on the arm of his chair. “You said you had a wife?”
“Yeah. Her name’s Y/N.”
“How long you been married?”
“Got married last May when I got back from vocational school.”
“Any kids?” Bucky shook his head.
“Not yet.”
“Did you meet her when you got home?” An easy grin made its way to Bucky’s face and shook his head.
“No, I’ve known her since we were kids.” Walt’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
“She must really like you if she let you make her wait that long.” Bucky chuckled.
“I’ll tell ya Walt, I’ve had pretty stubborn women around me all my life, but she takes the cake.” Walt laughed, the deep sound echoing in the small office. “I lost count how many times I asked her to marry me, and I almost had her convinced, but then the war happened,” he shrugged his hands, “and then there were other things to do. She told me we could get married when I got home. Said it’d give me somethin’ to look forward to.” Bucky huffed, “She still made me wait until after I was done with training.”
“She work?”
“She’s a nurse at Kings County up on Clarkson.” Walt hummed. “You married?”
Walt took a deep breath, holding the edge of his desk as though he was steadying himself. “Lucy and I have been married for about twenty five years. We have ten kids, six sons, four girls.” Bucky couldn’t stop his eyes from going wide.
“Doesn’t sound very quiet at your house.” Walt chuckled and leaned back in his chair, resting his ankle on his knee.
“Some days are better than others… I still wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world, though.” Bucky grinned, heartened by the sentiment. Walt let out a sigh, “Well, Bucky… you’ve got the training I’m lookin’ for, so, tell me, why should I hire you?” Bucky took a deep breath.
Tell them you’re the best mechanic they’re ever going to find, and not hiring you would be the dumbest thing they could do.
“Truthfully, you’re not gonna find a better mechanic.” Walt raised his brows. “I’m hardworking and someone you can count on to show up and get the job done. I’m the best there is.” Walt blinked.
“So…” Walt started, “let me get this right…. You’re tellin’ me, that you’re a better mechanic than myself, someone who’s been a mechanic for over twenty years?” White, hot fear started coursing through Bucky’s body.
He swallowed thickly, his stomach dropping, “Uh… yes, sir?”
The men continued to stare at one another, Bucky preparing himself to be thrown out on his face, if he wasn’t pummeled first.
Could Walt see the sweat on his lip?
What were you going to say when he came home with a broken nose and no job?
Would you finally regret marrying him?
You were nervous.
You had expected that Bucky would call the hospital after his interview and tell you how it went, good or bad. You knew what time his interview was, and the more and more time that passed without hearing anything from him was starting to worry you. You finished up your charts for the night nurse and as soon as the last ‘i’ was dotted and ‘t’ crossed, you grabbed your bag and said your goodbyes for the weekend.
You walked down the stairwell and out of the staff exit, coming to a halt as soon as you stepped onto the sidewalk, the door shutting behind you. There was Bucky, still in his brown suit, leaning against the wall with that boyish smile you’d fallen in love with.
“Hi, sweetheart.” He stepped closer, pulling a bouquet of red roses from behind his back. You gasped softly and took the flowers as he handed them to you. “How are you?” He kissed your cheek and you stared at him, trying to decipher his mood.
“Hi, honey,” he held his arm out for you and your suspicions quieted, a bashful grin forming on your face. You took his arm and you both fell into a leisurely pace as you walked home. “This is a nice surprise.” You smiled at him, adjusting the grip on the bouquet. Bucky, without being asked, reached for the flowers and held them in his left hand, freeing your hand.
“I just missed you,” he turned his head and grinned, “and I realized it’s been a while since I walked you home from work.” Your hold tightened around his arm and you could feel the hearts grow in your eyes.
“It’s not my birthday, is it? Our anniversary maybe?” Bucky smirked at you out of the corner of his eye, knowing what you were hinting at.
“No, ma’am. It’s just an ordinary Friday.” You hummed, forcing your eyes ahead.
“Strange.” He hummed in agreement and you shook your head good naturedly and walked in silence with all of the city noise. You came to a stop after a few minutes, waiting for traffic to pass. You looked at him, “I’m gonna hafta ask, aren’t I?” Bucky looked at you nonchalantly.
“Ask about what?” You gave him an exacerbated look, a laugh escaping his mouth.
You laughed with him, “Tell me! The suspense has been getting’ to me all day!” Bucky laughed more, the creases by his eyes deepening.
“We’ll hafta stop at the grocery store before we go home.” He led you across the street, ignoring your expectant glances.
“James Buchanan Barnes, if you don’t tell me—”
“Ask me what we needta get at the store.” He raised his brows at you keenly. You stared back at him, blinking a few times before you sighed and gave in.
“What do we need to buy at the store, honey?”
“Flour. We’re almost out.” Your face twisted, visibly confused by what Bucky was talking about.
“We don’t needta get flour? I’m not makin’ anything.”
“Well, I kinda already told the guys at the shop you make the best chocolate cake, so I really don’t wanna show up empty handed on Monday morning.” You came to a standstill just in front of the grocery store, pulling Bucky to a stop as well. You stared at him with big eyes.
“You got the job?” Your voice was soft, barely audible over the commotion of rush hour. Bucky simply smiled, and you knew. You squealed and threw your arms around his neck, the shock of which made Bucky drop the flowers on the ground so he could catch you. His arms wrapped around your waist, holding you tight, unaffected by the stares of everyone around them.
How could he be bothered with you in his arms?
As soon as you were home from the store, and everything had been put away and the roses put into a vase, you and Bucky sat at the kitchen table and he recounted his day. You listened attentively, a permanent grin fixed on your face. When he was done, you stood leaning over to kiss his lips.
“I’m so happy for you, baby.” Bucky smiled and gingerly pulled your hand until you settled on his lap. You sat contently with your legs crossed, and combed back his hair with your nails adoringly.
“Thanks, sweetheart.” You continued to scratch his scalp tenderly as he rubbed his hand over your lower back. He chuckled to himself, “Ya know, I was half worried you’d leave if I didn’t get the job.” Bucky watched the smile on your face slowly fall, his own grin disappearing at the loss of yours. You stopped pushing your fingers through his hair and sat back so as to see him clearer.
“What?” Bucky started to stammer.
“Well, I-I just mean that, ya know… I’m your husband. I’m supposed to take care of you, a-and I can’t treat ya how I’m supposed to when the jobs I find barely pay enough to put food on the table or a roof over your head.” When Bucky got home from overseas, he was less than willing to take any stipends the government was giving to veterans. Every dime Bucky received went directly into savings, even when everyone tried convincing him he should use it. He wasn’t going to use that money unless he absolutely had to.
I’m not gonna need it, he’d told everyone, I’ll just go back to the factory and pick up my old job.
When he’d gone to the factory, he realized that wasn’t the only guy in Brooklyn looking for work. Steve and the other Commandoes tried helping him, telling Bucky to stay with the S.S.R like them, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t when he finally had you back. He couldn’t risk it, even if the pay would have been able to give you the life you deserved.
After he finished training, he started calling every auto repair shop in the phone book, asking if they needed a new mechanic. After eleven phone calls that ended in rejection, Bucky was defeated. Slowly, when the small jobs he found on construction yards weren’t enough, the savings started to go, and you subtly started working a few more hours every week.
Bucky was beginning to wonder if the crease between your eyes was going to be permanent.
“Honey?” You blinked and took a long, steadying breath.
“Have I ever told you that I don’t feel like you treat me right, or that you don’t take care of me?”
“Well, I—” You gave him a firm look and he stopped himself.
“Yes or no.” Bucky let out a deep sigh.
“No, ma’am.”
You nodded your head. “No, I haven’t, you’re right. Because I have never once thought that about you, Bucky. Not once. And I think you know full well that I would have told if I had.” Bucky stared glumly at the ground, taking the reprimand in silence.
“I just wanna be able to buy you new dresses if you want them, or finally get you a real ring. I’m gonna be able to do that now with what they’ll pay me at the shop.”
“Bucky, I know you think I’m embarrassed to ask my friends for hand-me-downs, or that I’m upset that I never got a flashy engagement ring like my friends or the other nurses… but I’m not. I’ve been wearing hand-me-downs since I was ten years old, Buck. Why on earth would I start getting embarrassed now? And, as far as I’m concerned, the ring on my hand is just right, because you gave it to me, and that’s all I wanted.” You cupped his jaw tenderly, lifting it until he was looking at you. “You will always be what I want, James.”
You felt Bucky melt in your hand, and he sighed, resting his head on your chest. He breathed you in, and you continued to sit in each other’s quiet embrace, the sounds of your heart beat steady and strong in his ear.
His hands on the train, his body language, he looks so alone and lost. These scenes never should have been cut. This is the first we’re really seeing him out of the ice; they’re necessary to his character development. It also serves as a far better introduction to Steve Rogers than just the punching bag scene since much of the audience hadn’t seen CA: TFA.
A/N: The end is finally here!! I’ve loved this story and I love that others have loved it just as much!!! IT MAKES ME SO 😭🥺😭 Feedback is always loved and appreciated 💘
2087
kianamaiart
prguitarman
gummygunk
