oh my GOD girl. Spoilers for the newest episode of The Falcon and the Winter Soldier/gif request! Could I pleeeeease get some gifs of Sam from the fight with him and Bucky against John Walker? I've got two specific moments I'm hoping you can get: the first is 5:55-5:57?ish Sam just goes right at John with his wings open. Then the second is 6:00-6:02. It's when he uses his wings to spin on the floor or some shit. It was amazing. Also, please, that moment when Bucky basically uses John as a hammer against the shield? That whole fight was so good. Thank you, I love your gifs so much.
Hi Love! Thank you so much for the request, here are the gifs in order of your requests. :)
Summary: It’s Christmastime in 1942 and your sweetheart Bucky is talking of making promises you’re afraid he can’t keep.
Word Count: 3,500
Warnings: Angst. Like, a bunch. Major Character Death. 1940′s Bucky. Yes, that’s a warning itself because we’ve all seen that lopsided grin of his with him in uniform.
A/N: oooooh boy. This is my first fic in a long time and I’m excited and nervous since it’s also the first time writing for Bucky. Please be kind. Gif not mine. I own nothing except my brain that thinks up these awful things.
The smooth scratch of metal blades digging into the ice filled the silence that stretched between you and the young man who held your hand, his steady presence and warm grip keeping you from falling face first onto the rink. All around, other couples and friends did the same, everyone making laps on the skating rink, passing by the modest trio of trees, each one decorated in the colors of the flag, wooden stars and glass baubles in bright red, white, and blue. Despite the crowd that had turned out for an evening of fun, the mood held a more somber tone. Ever since President Roosevelt asked Congress for it’s Declaration of War last year, brave young men had been signing up left and right to head overseas in directions to both Europe and the Pacific. People were worried about their husbands, their sons, their brothers going off to fight and not making it back home.
That included the young man who was holding you close as the pair of you glided along at a more sedate pace than everyone else around you. Your Bucky. His right hand at your mid back was warm, even through the thick layer of your coat, his left clasped tight around yours as he provided the gentle pressure that led you both forward in the slow loop around and around Rockefeller Center’s ice rink.
“So, what do you want for Christmas this year, sweetheart?” His voice was honey thick at your temple, the mist of his own breath fanning out in front of you before dissipating into the evening air. It made you smile even as a shiver wormed its way down your spine to warm you up even more than his nearness.
“You don’t have to get me anything, Bucky.” After a moment of thought, the protest left your lips as a way to hopefully drop the subject. There was only one thing you wanted, and you were pretty sure Santa couldn’t deliver it.
“Uh, uh, uh.” He tutted in response. “There’s gotta be somethin’ you want, doll-face.” Extra pressure at your back prompted you to look into those steel blue eyes of which you were so fond.
“I dunno, I’m not really sure. There’s some really nice new handkerchiefs at Macy’s…” You floundered, tone unconvincing even to your own ears. The corner of your mouth twisted at how you sounded and you knew the jig was up when Bucky held your hand tighter and led you both off to one side, out of the way of the crowd still circling the ice. Leaning against the railing, those blue eyes focused only on you, taking both of your chilled hands between his, rubbing life back into them before he spoke.
“Come on, that’s the kinda present I’d give my Ma or Rebecca.” His expression was one of skepticism, but it morphed into that cheeky, lopsided smile as he reached to tip you chip up, keeping your gaze steady.
“Y/n. I know you don’t want me to make a big deal outta this, but I want this Christmas to be special for you. For us.”
The reasoning of why he wanted it to be special wasn’t lost on either of you. Your eyes drifted down to the three bars that had recently been added to his dress jacket. James Buchanan Barnes had made the rank of Sergeant. He had more responsibility now in his unit. You also knew that more and more divisions were being sent out to Europe.
“Don’t say it like that. Not like that.” You weren’t sure if you were pleading with him or angry at him when you bit the words out. “Like it’s going to be the-”
“-Like it’s going to be our last one together?” He interrupted what was sure to be a tirade if he let you pick up any verbal steam. “Doll, that’s not what I meant by that at all.” One side of his mouth turned up in that half smile that you could never stay upset at. You found yourself tilting your head, eyebrows lifting in an expectant expression: Please explain yourself.
The cloud of breath he expelled in a chuckle drifted up between you as Bucky shook his head a little, rubbing your hands between his again, only to reach up and brush his thumb across the apple of your cheek, cool to the touch from the time spent outside. When he spoke again, it was quiet, meant only for you to hear as his forehead came to touch yours.
“I want this Christmas to be special because I want it to be the first of many we spend together.”
The sounds of the other skaters faded to nothing more than white noise when your brain finally caught up to your ears. Was he saying what you thought he was- proposing?
“Bucky, I-” Your train of thought was derailed when a pair of kids raced by you and your sergeant, nearly knocking into him in their haste. They called back apologies which you ignored. The moment, however, was broken, and Bucky gathered you close.
“Come on, I think we’re better off talking some place we won’t get knocked down.” His grip shifted to your elbow to guide the both of you off the ice and to a bench so that you could change out of your skates. Not a word was spoken as he slipped his hand into yours, walking away from the crowd and up the stairs to the gardens that overlooked Rockefeller Plaza.
As you walked, snow had begun to fall. Soft, fat flakes that floated down in silence to catch in your hair and on your coats. It joined the layer of white already coating every available surface, muting the sounds of the city traffic surrounding the buildings that loomed above, imposing structures of steel and brick that were feats of architectural brilliance. But the gentle quiet that had settled around you and Bucky couldn’t calm the racing thoughts in your head, nor the tripping rhythm your heart had picked up as he led you along to a bench, brushing the snow off before folding himself down onto the seat, a soft tug of your hand an invitation to join him.
“Bucky, were you trying to say back there what I think you were trying to say? Because as much as I care for you, I don’t think that I could be like the other girls in the office. Getting married before you get shipped out, only to wait to hear if you’re going to return to me or leave me a-” The words wouldn’t keep coming, your throat closing on them like a door being shut against the cold.
“No, no! God, sweetheart, that’s not what I meant at all.” Reaching out, his fingers wrapped around yours. “I wouldn’t ask that of you.I wouldn’t dare ask you to wait for me like that.” The shake of his head caused a lock of hair to fall across his forehead. “Plus I’m sure that both your Ma and my sister would kill us if we eloped in some afternoon courthouse ceremony where we’d just be a number in a line of people doing the exact same thing.”
“They’d never let us hear the end of it.” Your chuckle was thick, the emotions still at the surface, lacing your words like the snow dusting the ground. “Steve would probably be upset he wasn’t invited too.” You added, tucking your hands into the pockets of your coat to retrieve your mittens, no longer able to take the biting evening air.
“Who do you think I’d ask to be a witness?” Bucky quipped. Those eyes you loved so much twinkled with amusement.
But the words he said gave you pause. He’d actually thought about it? You turned wide eyes back to him as you tugged the second mitten up onto your wrist, the question clear in your gaze.
“Yeah.. Yeah I’ve thought about it, Doll-face.”
“But-” Bucky could tell what you were thinking so often that is answers like that never surprised you anymore. “You-”
“I what? I said that I wouldn’t make you wait for me, and I meant that, Y/n. I’m not going to marry you then leave you for however long it takes for this war to end. There are going to be far too many young widows who will never get to have a life with the man they call their husband after a trip to the county clerk’s office, Doll. I would never ask that kinda sacrifice from you.”
His words did something to your heart and your head. There was so much truth in what Bucky was saying, that it made you forget about the surprise and nervousness when you realized he’d thought about asking you to marry him. For a moment anyway. In an attempt to distract yourself, you brought your covered hands up and rubbed them together as you took in your surroundings, the people leaving the ice rink, some carrying their skates over their shoulders.Some people carrying packages from shopping. How many of the men you saw walking by would be gone overseas this time next year? And how many of them would not make it home to their loved ones? You didn’t want to consider what it would be like if the man sitting next to you didn’t make it home. It made your chest ache as if a weight had been pressed there, making the breath you pulled into your lungs burn in the most awful way.
“I think we’d best be getting back to Brooklyn.” Your tone made Bucky frown and he reached out, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, urging you to look at him.
“I didn’t mean to upset you sweetheart. I’m sorry. But I meant it when I said I wanted this Christmas to be the first of a lot of holidays together for the two of us.” His thumb brushed your cheek, the ache in your chest easing off just enough to sigh. Before you could say anything else though, Bucky had scooted closer, invading your space to press a kiss to your forehead. It made you smile.
“You’re shivering, Y/n. Let’s go get some coffee or somethin’ before I take you home.” Knowing that it would only upset you further to keep discussing it, Bucky decided to take you back home. Helping you to your feet, he slid one arm around your shoulders to try and warm you up as the snow continued to fall around you.
“But you still didn’t tell me what you want for Christmas.”
Christmas Day 1942
The sound of someone knocking at the door had you setting down your cup of coffee. When you opened it, Bucky stood on the other side, brushing snow off of his coat and out of his hair. His smile was bright enough to light up all of the Empire State Building, and it was contagious.
“Merry Christmas Doll!” He had a couple of small packages under one arm, readjusting his grip on them as you stepped back to allow him into your small but warm apartment. He looked around as you shut the door, then pivoted to face you.
“Where’s you mom? I’ve got a present for her too.”
“She’s down the hall with Mrs. O’Connell, helping them get their dinner ready. Mrs. O’Connell slipped on the ice coming home from midnight mass and sprained her ankle.”
“Oh…” He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “That’s nice of her.” Then he was stepping into your space, the fingers of his free hand curling around your waist the same time that his lips slanted over yours in a sweet and slightly prolonged kiss. When you broke the kiss, you tried your best to look reprimanding. The fact that your heart was beating wildly inside your chest made your expression a little more dreamy and a lot less stern. Your grip on his shoulders shifted, fingers toying with the short locks of dark hair at the nape of his neck not hidden by his collar.
“Bucky! My mom could walk through that door any minute!” You didn’t even sound convincing to yourself.
“What?” There was that cheeky half smile you loved so much again. “I thought I saw mistletoe hanging above the door. Isn’t that the tradition? Kissing the person next to you when one of you steps under the mistletoe?”
You huffed and smacked his shoulder in a playful manner, then stepped out of his reach, crossing the living space to pull another cup and saucer down from a kitchen cabinet. “You are positively incorrigible, James Barnes. What am I going to do with you?” Holding up the cup in a silent question, he shook his head and finally moved to set the packages under his arm on the table.
“I can’t stay too long, Steve’s sick again but insisted that I bring your gifts over before you and your mom went to church tonight.”
“Oh. I hope he’s not too bad again. You could have waited until tomorrow to bring those by, Bucky if Steve needs you to look after him.” Steve didn’t really have anyone else but Bucky in this world, and you by association.
“No, he kept saying that if I didn’t bring them over he was going to get out of bed and bring them himself. And since the punk can’t even get up without falling face first into the rug, I gave into his demands.” Bucky laid a hand on the rectangular package that was fairly thin. “This is from him to you. And the other box is something that I thought your mom might enjoy.”
“But before you open Steve’s gift, I want you to open mine first.” From the inside pocket of his coat, Bucky removed a small square box wrapped in a blue ribbon tied into a messy bow. It made you chuckle when you saw it.
“Yeah, I know I’m not one for wrappin’ boxes up to make them pretty. I’m better at making a bed look up to regulation.” He joked, holding it out to deposit in your palm.
Pulling at one end of the ribbon, it unwound and you let it fall to the kitchen table while you lifted the lid. A gasp left you when you saw the ring. The band was simple, and the stone was a deep green, cut into a trillian style. On either side, four small diamonds flanked the emerald in a four leaf clover setting. Tilting it one way, the light caught inside the stone and sparkled beautifully. You put one hand up to your mouth, shaking your head.
“You didn’t- there’s- Bucky it’s so…” A dozen different thoughts ran through your head. How could he have afforded this? It was beautiful, but you couldn’t accept it and you told him as much.
“Y/n, sweetheart, it’s not what you think. And I didn’t have to pay a dime for the ring.” Reaching into the box, he lifted out a thin chain that you hadn’t noticed at first, the ring looped into it. “It’s a promise ring. It was. It belonged to my Ma. One of the few nice things she ever had in this world and Becca has kept it for a while now. But she knows just how much you mean to me. And I want you to know that I promise I’m gonna come back to you. This ring is a physical token of the promise that once this war is over, I’m gonna come back and do things right with you, Y/n.” As he talked, Bucky undid the clasp, standing up and stepping behind you. You swept your hair aside so that he could fix it around your neck. It was perfect.
“I don’t know what to say. I want to tell you that I can’t accept this because it belonged to your mom, Bucky. But if Rebecca let you have it, I know better than to argue with her.” Your fingertips rubbed over the stone gently.
“I love it.” Getting to your feet, you threw your arms around him, not caring if your mother might actually walk in to see you being so affectionate with James.
“But you’d better keep your promise, Sergeant.” You mumbled into the lapel of his coat while he held you close and pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“I will, Y/n. I will come back to you.”
January 1945
You sighed as you wiped your forehead with the back of one hand, loose strands of hair falling back into your face as you scrubbed at the pot in the sink before rinsing it clean and setting it aside to drip dry. Another week gone by without a letter. The sporadic contact that had come from both Bucky and Steve was wearing down both your morale and your heart even though you knew you were lucky to hear anything at all from anyone. Sporadic letters were better than the telegrams or official letters delivered by a priest in a military uniform. Your neighborhood had seen too many of both of those over the last three years and everyone prayed for this war to end.
Reaching for the coffee pot, you began to fill it with water. As it did, your mind wandered back to your sergeant. You hoped that he was okay. That he and his regiment of misfits that he’d written you about, along with Steve were okay. So consumed by your thoughts, you missed that the pot was now overflowing. Cursing to yourself, you reached out to shut off the tap. As you leaned forward to empty out some of the water, there was a metallic clatter, the feeling of something falling over your blouse. Bucky’s promise ring rattled in the sink and you tried to grab it...only to miss as if fell into the drain.
“Oh no. No no no!” The pot was set aside as you felt the chain around your neck. It had broken. And your promise ring was gone. “Oh no. No please!”
Kneeling down, you pushed aside the curtain that hid the plumbing from view. A feeling of panic bubbled up, expressing itself in a sob as you twisted fruitlessly at the pipe under the sink. It couldn’t be gone. What would Bucky say?? Would he be upset that you’ve lost his mother’s ring? Of course he would! Your fingers hurt from trying to loosen the U-shaped pipe, then you gave it a few smacks with the heel of your hand, thinking that might knock it loose enough to do some good. You had to get it back. Maybe the landlord downstairs had some tools that he could use to retrieve it. Letting go of the pipe, you swiped at the tears now slipping down your cheeks in an attempt to calm yourself. You would go downstairs, beg Mr. Gordon to come up and get the ring out of the sink and it would be okay. Bucky wouldn’t even have to know what happened when he came back.
Just as you pushed yourself to your feet, the telephone receiver rang on the table down the hall. “Oh not now.” But your answered it anyway, worried it could be your mother.
“Hello?” Any other time, the voice on the other end of the phone would be a welcome distraction. You loved hearing from Bucky’s sister, but right now she was the last person you wanted to talk to, and you really didn’t want to explain why.
“Rebecca! Oh, I’m sorry to ask this of you, but I can’t talk right now, I’ve got to get the landlord for a problem with the sink, could I please call you back? It’s a last minute problem, but it’s really important.” The words rushed out as you tugged the now useless chain off your neck and tucked it into the pocket of your blouse. You hoped she’d say yes because if you continued to talk, you would definitely tell her what had just happened and that was the last thing you wanted. From the other end of the line, however, Bucky’s sister started speaking quickly. Your fingertips that were anxiously toying with the cord stopped moving, nails digging into the thick black rubber coil.
“I’m s-sorry I-” You hadn’t heard her correctly through her own sniffling and tears. “What’s… What’s wrong? Is-”
“It’s Bucky, Y/n. He’s gone. He didn’t make it, Y/n.”
The world shifted and swayed as something inside your chest cracked, the pieces of your heart splintering into shards as your worst nightmare was now made into your reality. The receiver dropped from your hand, clattering on the hall table as you tried to steady yourself by grabbing the wall.
Some time later, your mother found you on your knees crying, the phone still off the hook, your Bucky’s ring still out of reach.
1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?
1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?
coffee mugs! i have a collection and i believe i have somewhere around fifteen now?? i have more at home, but my roommates forbade me from getting more.
but i’m probably gonna get more cause there were a bunch of cute ones at target the other day.
psa: if you ever need to gift shop for me, just get me a coffee mug or coffee. i’m an addict.
😘 I absolutely love to bake! For special occasions and no reason at all. Tom Hiddleston (smut is welcome)
Imagine baking a cake for Tom’s birthday. He comes into the kitchen and sticks his finger right into the batter, insisting on stealing a taste. You pinch his behind and tell him to scram - you’ve got a cake to bake!
Unfortunately for him, the batter never makes it to the oven; he lifts you up onto the counter, bringing his face within an inch of yours, and asks what makes you think you can talk to him like that. Before you can answer, he nibbles on your bottom lip, pulling your mouth open before sneaking his tongue inside. Your hands find their way to his hair, gently tugging on his curls. With a deep, carnal groan, he says, “You’re a naughty little girl today, aren’t you?”
Mimiiii *waves* I would like to sign up for your writing challenge! I wanna write a Sam story using number 37 if it's not taken! and if it is, my alternate is 44.
I've never read a Christmas Eve/Day fic as lovely as that. Seriously. That was really beautiful Moz. Like- ugh, so wonderful. And Michael Buble's voice is so perfect that any song sung by him just makes a setting more romantic. But whyyyyyyyy? why couldn't he say it?? She SHOULD have let him say iiiiiiit... This next part is going to kill me. I feel it. *goes to get tissues in preparation*
Okay...this is as far as you got, which I must say. This was a solid place to end. You have to be emotionally prepared for the last part. This all being said! You kill me! I’m so beyond flattered! I loved writing this part, I loved all the sweet Christmas activities and the joy and just...yes! I love it.
