Mar 29, 2021
Ship indeed happens.
seen from United States
seen from Italy
seen from United States
seen from Romania
seen from China
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from South Africa
seen from India
seen from Malaysia
seen from China
seen from China
seen from Lithuania
seen from United States
seen from Indonesia
Ship indeed happens.
"admit it. you had FUN today!" + Sam/Sharon 💕 love you
Love youuuuuuu
💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕
----
The peroxide stings deeply as it bubbles frothy white over the wound. Sam sucks a sharp inhale through his clenched teeth and tries his best not to let it sound like a hiss. Sharon’s dark blonde hair falls into her eyes when she looks up from screwing the cap back on the bottle. She offers him a brief, sympathetic grimace. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” he says, waiting until she turns gets up and turns away from him to let out the breath he’s holding. It’s not the sting of the peroxide so much as the knife wound itself. Deep and clean across his chest. He turns over his shoulder as well as he can to spy the drink cart.
“Don’t get up,” Sharon commands from the kitchen. When he looks back, she hasn’t turned around. “If you want a drink, I’ll get it.”
He sits back in the chair and tries to rest his upper body in a way that doesn’t shoot another stripe of pain across his chest. From the table, he sees his phone light up and he groans. “Can you grab that for me, too?” he asks while she moves across the loft. After a second, he hears ice cubes clinking in a glass.
She sets the whiskey on the wide arm of the chair and peers down at the screen on the coffee table. “It’s just Bucky,” she says, watching as he sips at the glass. Her brow lifts and she pauses, her hand hovers on the way to the phone. “You still want it?”
He considers telling her to leave it, but his guilt wins out and he beckons her to pass it to him. Bucky and Torres had splintered from them in the fight. Joaquin had already texted him to let him know they were okay. Bucky’s text, as he’d suspected, was confirmation of the same and that they were heading back. He taps the screen to acknowledge that he’s seen it and take another sip. The whiskey stings too, but it’s better than the peroxide. He looks up and starts at what Sharon’s got in her hands when she returns a second time from the kitchen. “Oh, hell no.”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s too deep for just a bandage,” she says plainly and sets down the plate she’d been assembling. Hemostat, forceps, sutures, scissors and two kinds of needles. A stack of gauze and medical tape. “You need stitches.”
“And what?” he asks in disbelief. “I’m just supposed to let you do it?”
“I’ve done it before,” she scoffs. “And like this is the first time you’ve had to be stitched up by someone with less than a medical degree.” She pulls up the ottoman she’d been using before and sits down before her expression changes. “Oh, I get it,” she says with a smug smile pulling at her lips. “You don’t trust me.”
“I never said that,” he says immediately, shaking his head. “You’ve saved my ass plenty of times.”
“Then stop whining and let me do it again,” she says succinctly reaches for the sutures.
They’re quiet at first while Sam does as she requests, and Sharon gets to work. Her hair falls into her eyes only one more time before she sits back and pulls it up with a black elastic band he hadn’t noticed around her wrist. He pretends he doesn’t care one way or the other, but Sam wishes she hadn’t pulled it back. He likes the way it shimmers in the lamp light. The feather-soft touch of the golden edges against his arm.
“Stop moving,” she snaps, when the needle is poised to slide into his skin again.
“I’m not,” he says right away.
“Then stop breathing,” she clarifies, not looking up as she continues stitching.
He glares at her honey blonde ponytail. “I can hold my breath for four minutes, I’m not—”
“Then stop flexing your tits in my face and let me stitch!” she says finally and hooks him with a glare to rival his own.
He waits until she goes back to her suturing before he narrows his eyes at her and as slowly and subtly as he can, relaxes his chest. He tells himself he wasn’t flexing on purpose.
He is, of course, lying.
They fall quiet again until Sharon has sewn him back together. She has quick, steady hands, and he’s surprised by how fast she’s finished. “So are you going to admit it?” she asks as she navigates the surgical thread into a knot.”
“Admit what?”
She’s smiling when she reaches for a bandage. “Admit that you had fun today?”
Sam blinks. “Uh, I did not have fun today. I got stabbed today.”
“Meh,” she moves her shoulder and squints as she peels open the paper. “Not so much stabbed as just…” she shrugs. “Sliced.”
He chokes out a laugh. “Sliced, stabbed, regardless,” he says. “Any day I’m in a knife fight isn’t really a great day for ol’ Sam.” He watches as she carefully places the bandage over his sutures. He tells himself he’s imagining that it seems like she’s taking extra care in smoothing down the adhesive edges. “And unlike you, I don’t like pretending to be a bad guy.”
“Oh, c’mon,” she cajoles, pressing her fingers along the edges one more time before she looks up. “What’s not to love? Undercover work is the best. You get to wear great clothes, there’s intrigue, adventure, excitement—”
“Deep knife wounds that require stitches,” he interrupts her, shaking his head. But he can’t help his smile when she finally stops her fussing and looks up at him. “Why don’t you and I ever get to spend a normal day together?”
“Normal?” she scoffs as she sits all the way up. “This was a pretty normal day as far as you and I go.”
She could push back the ottoman and give them both a little breathing room, he thinks. But she doesn’t.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” he says, keeping his tone light. “Every time I see you shit’s blowin’ up, buildings are fallin’ down, guys are throwin’ shit at other guys—”
She laughs softly and glances down again. “What would we even do?” she asks after a second. “On this normal day?”
Sam feels something stammer in his chest. “I don’t know,” he admits, pretending like he hasn’t thought about it. “We could do something normal…no treason, no shootouts, no end-of-the-world bullshit—”
“Mm,” she’s nodding now. That small smile pressing a dimple into her left cheek. It’d be the perfect place for a kiss to land, he thinks. “What’s left if you take away all the fun stuff?”
“Maybe eat a meal that doesn’t involve illegally traded exotic animals or…” he gulps at the memory, “snake babies or whatever weird shit I had in Madripoor—”
She coughs and laughs again. “Sounds like a tall order.”
“Tall?” he repeats, raising an eyebrow. He’s telling himself he’s not getting his hopes up.
He’s lying again.
“Tall,” she echoes. “But not impossible.”
“If I said you could stab me afterwards if you get too bored,” he suggests, grateful when she snorts and claps a hand over her mouth and nose. Her cheeks turn pink as he continues. “Does that sound any more appealing?”
When she pulls her hand away, she treats him to a full smile, and he feels that stutter in his chest again. “I’ve had worse offers,” she admits.
He doesn’t think he’s imagining the fact that she’s closer than she was a minute ago. In fact, he’s certain she’s closer because when a lock of her hair dislodges from her messy ponytail, it brushes his cheek on the way down and smells like flowers. He leans forward just slightly and—
“Hey, we’re back!” Torres’ voice rings through the room and hits them both like a bucket of ice water.
Sharon is up in an instant, busying herself with cleaning up the suture tray and is turned around by the time Bucky and Joaquin have made their way into the living room of her apartment.
“Oh shit,” Torres exclaims. “You got stabbed?”
“Sliced,” Sharon calls over her shoulder on the way to the kitchen. “He’ll live.”
Sam rolls his eyes but can’t help his smile. “Just another super fun day with Agent Thirteen.”
@grimeysociety Sending Birthday wishes to one of the best writers and a wonderful human being.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Summary:
During Pepper's bachelorette party in Vegas, Darcy sends Steve a video, a drunken love confession.
@grimeysociety, here are your photosets for Needed Me, and Fuck It I Love You for the Promptkin Spice event. Hope you like them! :D
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DEATH OF A MARRIAGE | @grimeysociety
“Bucky Barnes is tired of being typecast. He's lost, career-wise and life-wise, and taking a gamble on an art house flick is meant to rekindle his passion for the craft. Bucky finds himself falling for his co-star, Darcy Lewis, the indie darling who plays his wife.” [complete] (X)
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Captain America (Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Darcy Lewis, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel) Additional Tags: Slice of Life, Waking Up Married, Established Relationship, Eloping, Bucky Barnes Feels, WinterShock - Freeform, Car Sex, Fluff and Smut Summary:
He knew if Bucky was with Darcy and not in the Tower, they wouldn’t have lingered in Manhattan. He had some theories, and he figured Bucky would tell him what happened sometime after he got back, but he was pretty tight-lipped about that girl.