[insp.]

10 Things Sebastian Stan Can't Live Without | 10 Essentials

Captain America by Jahnoy Lindsay

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier incorrect 9

I THOUGHT THIS WAS ACTUAL DIALOGUE

source

idk if a gif like this has been made but HERE YOU GO!!

bucky you're not subtle, my man

marvel text posts 12/?

featuring real messages from theunsentproject.com

MCU Capfam + phones (inspo)

THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER that lives in my head → 26/? (insp. x x)

🧢🌉🐈 Cool Brooklyn Night. Good thing Alpine has somewhere warm to stow away.

Rules: Share a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on, and then tag 5 people.

I was tagged by @abarbaricyalp today. Thank you!

Tell the nurse he’s awake,” Sam heard Bucky croak, and he sounded like hell. The room was only lit by the television and the faint glow from the adjoining bathroom. It hurt to move his head, which felt like it was stuffed full of rocks, but Sam still turned toward the sound of Bucky’s voice.

“Buck…”

“Lie still. Don’t tear your stitches, Sammy. You’re not due for more pain meds for another hour, at least.”

“Thirsty,” Sam rasped. His throat felt like sandpaper. <i>Anesthesia,</i> his brain supplied. The IV in his right arm burned like a bitch and the tape holding it in place itched.

“You’re in luck. Doc cleared you for sips with meds and ice chips. Once you can tolerate that, they might feed you something in the morning. In the meantime, though, they’re giving you the good stuff in your IV.”

“Feels like I got hit by a truck.”

“Nope. They had to do a pretty big debridement of that wound in your shoulder, but you lost a lot of blood and you went into shock. The ortho surgeon wasn’t worried about your rotator cuff, thankfully, but the vascular surgeon took a lot longer to stabilize you.”

“How long did they have me in OR?”

“Six fucking hours.”

“Jesus… <i>Bucky</i>. Go home. Get some rest. They’re already taking care of me-”

“Fuck that shit,” Bucky told him cheerfully. Sam heard the faint rattle of ice chips in a plastic cup, and he opened his mouth gratefully when Bucky fed him a couple of cool chunks that melted on his tongue. Sam groaned in relief and his eyes fluttered shut. “There’s nowhere else I need to be right now, and it ain’t like you can get up and give me the bum’s rush outta here, Wilson. I mean, I’d like to see you <i>try</i>.”

Sam huffed, and he attempted a chuckle that hurt more than it helped.

“Punk,” Bucky muttered. “Rest up. Have some more ice and quit trying to kick me outta here.”

“At least it’s the good ice,” Sam mused. He let Bucky feed him another chunk that he crunched between his teeth. Then Sam laid back and let his eyes drift to the television.

@glittercake @drgrlfriend @helmistress @claraxbarton @betrayedbycinnamon

Thanks for tagging me back @abarbaricyalp ❤️

A no pressure ask game to make the tags less depressing lol.

Rules: Share a snippet from whatever you’re currently working on, and then tag 5 people.

Tagging: @chkemo @glittercake @jbarneswilson @runzu @siancore

Regardless of what department a Sales Associate was working in, or what they happened to be doing, if they were within earshot of a customer, it was the associate’s responsibility to greet that customer. Usually Bucky didn’t mind all that much, but it had been a long shift, and he was ready to go. To be even more candid, Bucky hadn’t been doing anything except counting down the minutes until his shift ended since about five seconds after it began.

The only thing Bucky hated more than working the closing shift, was working the closing shift in a department that wasn’t even his. Ever since school had started back up though, and he’d given his store manager his new availability, he’d had to take whatever shifts he could get. So when they asked him to cover Accessories at the last minute, when Yelena called out sick for what must have been the fifth time that month, he’d had no choice but to agree, especially since they told him he could come in what he’d worn to class instead of going home first to change into all black, the relatively new and extremely unnecessary dress code for all Macy’s Sales Associates.

Bucky’s day hadn’t actually been that bad, just long. Accessories was always pretty slow, so he’d spent most of his evening alternating between playing on his phone and making sure the shelves were straightened up, so he wouldn’t have to spend a lot of time snapping back the area after the store closed. But, of course, leave it to the end of his shift for a customer to come sprinting in fifteen minutes before close. Bucky had half a mind to ignore the guy, or at least wait until he approached him and asked for help, but when he heard the security camera above his register turn and looked up to see it pointed directly at him, Bucky knew he better just go ahead and suck it up and go over and ask the guy if he needed anything.

Brock was on duty in Loss Prevention that night, and ever since a few months earlier when he had accused some teenager, who was browsing Bucky’s regular department, of shoplifting and Bucky hadn’t backed him up when the cops were called and then they’d predictably found nothing, Brock had had it out for Bucky. Bucky didn’t care if the guy didn’t like him anymore though. Brock was a douche on a good day, and since Bucky remembered pretty well what it felt like being a teenager himself and going into stores and getting a funny look from the people who were there because of his long hair, long face, and leather jacket, he wasn’t about to continue the cycle of harassing kids for simply existing and being kids.

Being a bully seemed to be Brock’s favorite pastime though, especially when it came to anyone more vulnerable than him, and since Bucky was diametrically opposed to that type of bullshit, he’d earned a permanent spot on Brock’s shit list from that point on. Brock was always snitching on Bucky for one thing or another, trying to get him in trouble with supervisors and the manager. And while his attempts to get Bucky fired had yet to work, getting caught on film pretending not to see a customer was definitely one way to guarantee that he at least got written up.

So, Bucky resisted the urge to heave a sigh and dragged himself over to the handbags instead.

And almost immediately stopped short when he entered the area and caught a good look at the customer. Shit. He was handsome, like handsome handsome. The kind of handsome where if Bucky wasn’t at work, and the guy wasn’t obviously there to get a last minute gift for his wife or partner or girlfriend, Bucky wouldn’t have hesitated to shoot his shoot.

But, clearly, the guy was there picking up something for a significant other. Why else would he have been in the store at that time of night? When women came in to shop right before closing, they came in to shop. They shopped like it was ten in the morning or two in the afternoon; they took their sweet time. But when his last minute customers were men, they were almost always there for just one thing. Usually because they’d just remembered an anniversary or birthday or some other occasion and needed a present, or they were in town on vacation and had just realized they hadn’t packed a necessity. So that had to be what this was.

It was a shame really, because the guy was fine.

He was dressed like something straight out of some of Bucky’s best undergrad memories: gray sweats, black t-shirt, a simple gold cross on a thin chain laying around his neck, and a logo-less baseball cap pulled low enough that it almost hid his impossibly long eyelashes, but they were just so long that it couldn’t. The clothes were all semi loose, but not near baggy enough to hide the fact that he was built like he spent a good chunk of his free time in the gym. His arms alone. Jesus Christ. Bucky didn’t go full wide eyes / tongue out the mouth cartoon wolf when the guy picked up a purse and the muscles in his right arm flexed ridiculously in the process, but it was close.

But his arms weren’t even the best part. No the best part, the best part, was his face. Handsome had been Bucky’s initial thought, but it maybe hadn’t been the right word. Dude was pretty. Like legitimately pretty. It was almost startling. Bucky had always kind of wondered what exactly people meant by “pretty boy,” but this guy had to be it. Except there was absolutely nothing “boy” about him. This was a pretty man, and Bucky couldn’t even approach him like that, because, again, work, and probably girlfriend too. Damn.

Well, there wasn’t anything to be done about that, but Bucky figured maybe he could at least get the guy out the store before nine.

So he squared his shoulders, marched over, and finally closed the distance between them.

“Excuse me,” Bucky said, in as chipper a voice as he could manage, which was admittedly more chipper than even he would’ve guessed it could be before it came out, but he figured that was mostly due to how ridiculously attractive the guy was.

Too bad Sam wasn’t feeling chipper. In fact, he had damn near wanted to start pouting when he heard those two words. He managed to put on a smile though; one of his regular ones: his I’m About to Have to Make Small Talk with a Fan smile, and braced himself. Sure, he wanted to engage in some impromptu conversation about as much as he’d wanted to carry out this unexpected errand in the first place, but apparently it just wasn’t Sam’s night.

Truthfully, he didn’t usually mind being recognized, kind of enjoyed it even, but he just wasn’t up for it that night. Still, it wasn’t in Sam to be rude to fans, or anyone really, so he sucked it up and lifted his gaze from the display case he’d been examining.

“Yeah?”

And, oh. Once the hot guy was staring at him, actually smiling at him expectantly, Bucky’s brain sort of short circuited for a minute.

Well, maybe not a whole minute, but long enough that Sam could feel his smile begin to turn upside down, as his eyebrows raised in question.

Lord don’t let it be one of the crazy ones.

Sam didn’t have many, well, he hadn’t met many, but sometimes he’d come across a baseball fan that wasn’t particularly a fan of him, or maybe even was too much of a fan, and things would get… weird.

“Can I help you?” Sam finally said, when the guy never said anything else. Sam had learned over the years that it was always better to move these encounters — positive or not — along, as quickly and smoothly as possible.

“Actually, I uh think that’s my line,” Bucky said, blushing. He gave a short laugh that could only be classified as self-deprecating and rubbed the back of his neck. “Can I help you… with anything?”

Forget raised, Sam’s eyebrows were just about at his hairline at that point. He didn’t know if this was a weird fan or a come on or what, but he probably had like ten minutes before some employee walked up and tried to usher him out the store, so whatever was happening, with this, admittedly extremely good looking, but clearly on one stranger, Sam didn’t have time for it.

“No. Thank you,” Sam added, belatedly. But he still added it, because nutty stranger or not, his mama had raised him right. “I—

“Let me try this again,” Bucky rushed to cut him off. He knew he was coming off badly, what with the heart-eyed staring and awkward pauses and all, add that to the fact that it took him to remember he wasn’t wearing what the rest of the employees wore, and his nametag was lying on his dresser at home, and he could see why his potential customer looked like he was planning his escape.

“Welcome to Macy’s. My name is James. Is there anything I can help you find this evening?” He asked, figuring it was probably better for everyone involved if he just stuck to the script.

Sam’s eyes narrowed. James, if that was even his name, didn’t look like a department store employee —- he looked like he was about to go lean against a brick wall and smoke a cigarette, but moodily… or go film an artsy cologne commercial. Then again, Sam was basically in his pajamas, and he was there to shop, so really, who was he to judge… or assume. Besides, the guy had been flat out staring at him for a hot minute, and Sam had yet to see the unguarded excitement he did from fans, or even a blink of recognition, so he assumed his earlier assumptions had been wrong. And if he didn’t recognize Sam, then Sam doubted he’d go through the trouble of pretending to work there just to get the chance to awkwardly speak with him, so Sam started to believe he was on the up and up.

“Actually,” Sam shook his head, gave a so, I guess this is happening laugh, and asked for the thing that had brought him out that night, “I’m looking for a black Coach crossbody purse. I see black Coach purses, and other brands of crossbody purses in black, but nothing that’s… both,” he explained, gesturing towards the displays. “You wouldn’t happen to have any in the back… would you?”

Umm no, Bucky didn’t know if they had any in the back. Hell, Bucky didn’t exactly know what a crossbody purse was, though he could hazard a guess. And, if it hadn’t been for this part time job, he sure as hell wouldn’t have known what Coach was.