first of congratulations on the 3.2k followers 🥳 could i request a drabble with "Stop pretending you’re fine. You’re bleeding." where reader takes care of a bleeding and wounded bucky. i need this man to be taken care of
3,2K followers celebration: request your prompt here
thank you so much for sending in this request! (and yes, i actually managed to find your ask after tumblr made it magically disappear for a few days!!!)
i hope you like this, i too desperately want and need bucky to be taken care of 😭
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In Sickness and In Health
Pairing: Avenger!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Word count: 988
Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries (not too detailed); hurt/comfort; angst (if you squint) with soft ending; bucky & reader are married; stubborn bucky barnes; not proofread
You’re in the bathroom, fingers combing through your hair as you prepare for another sleepless night (always like this whenever Bucky is away on a mission) when you hear the front door slam shut. The sound jolts you from your spot; you might not be an Avenger, but you learn to have quick reactions when you decide to marry one.
“Bucky?”
There’s no answer. As you leave the bathroom, all you hear is the heavy drag of boots across hardwood floor, and a loud exhale. You pad down the hall until you finally find Bucky, hunched agains tthe kitchen counter, shoulders rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon.
You’ve seen Bucky come back from missions enough times to have trained eyes; you notice immediately the torn sleeve, a dark stain spreading across his ribs, the bruises blooming under his jaw, across his neck.
“Jesus, Bucky-”, you start, but already you’re interrupted by his rough voice.
“I’m fine.” He straightens up, tugs at his jacket as if doing that will somehow erase all the damage.
You narrow his eyes at him, but say nothing. Maybe he thinks that’s a challenge, a dare. “Stop looking at me like that. It’s nothing. I’ve had worse.”
That’s when the right (or the wrong) words get ripped out of you, definitely sharper than intended. “Stop pretending you’re fine. You’re bleeding.”
Something cracks in Bucky, then. He finally looks at you, really looks, and his shoulders slump forward. For a moment, there’s no Sergeant, no Winter Soldier - just Bucky Barnes. Tired. Yours. Without waiting for another word, or for permission, you cross the remaining space between you and ease the jacket off his shoulders. Bucky doesn’t fight this time, only winces as the fabric pulls at the gash in his side.
“Sit,” you order, pointing to the kitchen chair. To your surprise, he obeys.
You grab the first aid kit from under the sink, hands steady despite the storm brewing in your chest. No matter the amount of times you watch Bucky leave and come back, it never gets easier to see him hurt. Always a reminder that you’re that close to losing him. When you kneel in front of him, Bucky attempts a smirk - weak, fleeting. “Missed you.”
“Don’t deflect,” you mutter, but your lips twitch up nonetheless. Careful fingers move his shirt up before pressing a clean gauze to his side, firm enough to stop the bleeding, gentle enough to not make it worse. He hisses through his teeth, and you bite down on your lip in concentration.
“Sorry,” you whisper.
Bucky shakes his head. “Don’t be. You’re better at this than most guys at the tower.”
“Not exactly a comforting standard,” you say, pulling the gauze away to inspect the wound. It doesn’t look deep enough for stitches (thank God, because you really hate needles), but bad enough to be very uncomfortable for the next few days. You reach for antiseptic. and Bucky winces again when you press it to the open wound.
His metal fingers catch your wrist, grip feather-light despite the strength you know he has. “You know you don’t have to do this.”
“You know I want to,” you reply, eyes flicking up to meet his, holding. “Let me take care of you, Buck.”
He doesn’t answer; instead, you just catch a flicker of something in his gaze, something too close to vulnerability. Something even you, his wife, don’t find in him every day. Finally, he lets go of your wrist, letting you work.
You clean the cut in heavy silence, the steady rhythm of your hands ground both of you. His breathing slowed, shoulders easing from rigid to something closer to comfortable. But he never fully relaxes. Not tonight.
“You always do this,” you whisper, taping fresh gauze over the wound.
“Do what?”
You blink at him, a silent ‘are you serious’ etched into your face before you reply. “Come back broken and tell me you’re fine. Like I can’t see the bruises. Like I can’t smell the blood.” You swallow hard. “You don’t have to carry it all alone, you know.”
Bucky’s metal hand twitches on the table. He looks up at the ceiling, then at the way his fingers flex against the wood, then at the sink - anywhere but at you. “It’s easier to do it alone.”
“That’s a lie, and you know it.” You tie a bandage around his torso and finish it off before sitting back on your heels, one hand tugging at his chin to make him face you. “Bucky. I’m serious. We took vows when we got married. In sickness and in health. I meant that.”
Bucky just stares at you before his flesh hand reaches down, gently pushing your head until your noses nearly brushed together.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers and then he presses his lips to yours.
The kiss isn’t demanding, isn’t hungry. There’s no sexual tension in it, no desire - just love, like that kiss is doing a better job of healing his injuries than an any medicine could ever. He sighs against your lips, as if breaking away to breathe is a personal offense.
For a moment, neither of you move. Then Bucky exhales, the tension bleeding out of him as surely as the wound you’ve just dressed. He tugs you closer until you are perched on his lap, your head against his chest, his arms locking around you with quiet desperation. “I don’t want to worry you every time I come home like this.”
You lean into him, your voice steady even as your heart thunders. “That’s not your call to make. I’ll worry about you until my last breath, James Barnes.”
Bucky doesn’t have any fight left in him. Not today. He buries his face in the space between your neck and your shoulder, and lets himself have one good thing in his life. You. Always you.
Okay i gotta know, i've seen you post a lot about Taako, Minerva? and others and they all look and sound fabulous. Where are these beauties from? i gotta know.
Oh hell yeah!
First, you're absolutely right about them being and looking fabulous - they are both from a dnd actual play podcast by the brothers mcelroy and their father, called The Adventure Zone, from the balance and amnesty arcs respectively.
Give the first episode of TAZ: Balance a listen, and if you like that kind of humour and want to see these doofuses grow attached to their characters and weave a beautiful story that made me cry multiple times in the end (yes I know it sounds weird when you've just listened to the first ep, but just trust me), stick with it. There are 69 (nice) one hour long episodes, and I'm currently on a relisten.
Oh kann i a ne postgschichte einbringen. Mein vater hat schuhe bestellt die habn ned passt und er wollt die wieder zurückschicken. wir wohnen in wien und das paket musste nach linz. Er bekommt das geld dann zrück wenn die schuhe in linz bei der firma angekommen sind. soweit so gut. Das paket is von wien (postverteilungsstelle) nach linz (postverteilungsstelle), nach wien, nach linz, nach wien, und dann verschwunden. Die post hat ihm dann das geld für die schuh überwiesen.
"Quiet Me" maybe with Rey comforting and calming down Kylo from all the stuff he has to do as a supreme leader?
“Don’t go.”
Rey’s eyes widen at the tone of his voice – pleading, and broken in a way that tugs uncomfortably at her heart.
She’s only heard him like this, seen him like this, once before. In the throne room, months ago, after Snoke and the guards but before everything else went to hell. The look he gives her now is like the one he gave her then, all hooded eyes and desperation, his bottom lip trembling, belying his vulnerability.
Tonight their bond has not shown her Kylo Ren, the fearless and feared Supreme Leader of the galaxy. It has shown her only the terrified boy who wears his clothes.
She can’t give him what he really wants from her. Absolution. Forgiveness. Someone to stand by his side as he smashes his angry fist through the stars and forces the galaxy to bend to his will.
But he just looks so frightened right now. So broken. Dark circles ring his bloodshot eyes, and his hair is utterly wrecked, like he’s spent hours running his hands through it in nervous agitation.
Before she can talk herself out of doing it she takes a tentative step towards him. Then another, and another, until she’s standing just a few inches from where he sits, elbows resting on his knees, in his straight-backed chair.
She reaches out, tentatively, with her hand. He stiffens at first, and then all the tension seems to go out of him at once as she curves the palm of her hand, gently, around his cheek.
His eyes flutter closed and a shuddering sigh escapes him.
“Don’t go,” he says again, leaning into her touch. Begging her now. “Please.”
But she can’t stay. Not like this, not the way he wants her to. He knows it as well as she does.
She presses a lingering kiss to his forehead and bumps his nose with hers.
“Just for a bit,” she concedes, nodding, murmuring the words against his cheek. That much she can do. Stay with him for a while. Comfort him as best she can, if her presence helps calm the demons that plague him.
His breath hitches at her words, and he pulls her closer.
Ship Asks: what is your absolute favorite ship? is there a ship that you used to ship, but don’t anymore?
thanks buddy 💖
what is your absolute favorite ship?
this will come as a surprise to no one but it’s a toss up between pynch (adam/ronan) from trc and jack/bitty from omgcp
is there a ship that you used to ship, but don’t anymore?
there are several ships I used to care about but became kind of indifferent to after leaving the fandom, but the only two ships I can think of that I actively stopped shipping are cl*rke/b*llamy from th*100 and t*nks/remus from hp
