#nonbinary Steve Rogers

[kat-writes]

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Peter Parker/Steve Rogers Characters: Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Peter Parker Additional Tags: No Underage Sex, NO UNDERAGE CHARACTERS, Dom Bucky Barnes, Sub Steve Rogers, Switch Bucky Barnes, Switch Steve Rogers, Sub Bucky Barnes, Dom Steve Rogers, Bottom Peter Parker, Nonbinary Steve Rogers, Mob Boss Bucky Barnes, Alternate Universe - Mob, Omegaverse, Omega Steve Rogers, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Omega Peter Parker, Queer Themes, Queer Exploration, Gender Identity, Porn With Plot, ooh first time using that tag Summary:

Steve worked as a prostitute for years before James Barnes picked him up to be the kingpin's personal bedwarmer. But Barnes isn't exactly a typical Alpha, and when he goes down on Steve, causing a little slip of the Omega's tongue, Steve finds himself in the middle of an exploration of his gender that he never thought possible. Thankfully, it doesn't stop his horny Alpha from finding him very attractive, or finding ways to make their bedroom experience more pleasurable and exciting for his partner.

#novelette #from ao3 #fanfiction #steverogers #buckybarnes #peterparker #stevebucky #omegaverse #lgbtq+ #nonbinary #nonbinary steve rogers

[a-strange-echo]

Flufftober day 7: "Porch swing"

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: Just a nice evening with your husband Steve Rogers and his best friend.

Word count: 612

Warning: Bucky's cooking skills (he was distracted by the sight of his best friend ('s romantic moment)), none just fluff

Author's note: This one is very late I am sorry, i really haven't been feeling like writing for a while but it's coming back so i will post every day I missed soon. Also, day 6 migt come very late, I can't find the motivation to write this one, I don't know why. English is not my first langage and it's still not beta read, sorry for any mistake, please notify me if there is any.

Author's feelings: I really like this one, I hope you do too.

Everything was fine now. The war against Thanos ended. Steve volunteered to bring the stones back in their timelines and although you and Bucky were a little scared Steve would stay with Peggy in 1939, he came back. With Natasha. Everything was nice, Tony is alive (thanks to a last utilization of the stones), Natasha came back when Steve brought the Soul Stone back on Vormir, and Steve had his dance with Peggy, like they promised each other back in the days. And the first thing he did after bequeathing his shield to Sam was to finally marry you and buy this house on the countryside he had always wanted. It was a pretty big house, a cottage not far away from the city but far enough he didn’t feel as if he would have to jump into battle at any given moment. The stone walls of the house were perfect to isolate from the cold of the winter but kept the inside fresh in summer. It also had a big backyard to plant some flowers and other plants. But what Steve preferred about the house was its wooden front porch with the swing he hung there. He liked to sit here during cool evenings, watching the stars or just enjoying the calm of his new life.

Tonight was especially perfect. Bucky was visiting and you were more than happy to have him over for a few days. He was helping you cook dinner in the kitchen when you saw Steve sitting on the porch swing. You asked Bucky if he would be alright finishing to cut the vegetables on his own. At first he was confused by the sudden question, cooking together had always been your thing, but when he saw you glance at Steve outside, he smiled and shooed you away. You took a plaid that was laying on the couch after washing your hands of the remaining tomato juice and smell and joined Steve outside.

You tried to sneak up on him even if you knew he had heard you as soon as you opened the door. You were only a few feet away from him when you saw his tender smiled and soft eyes. You decided against your original plan to dump the blanket on his head and instead walked around the swing and sat beside him, draping the plaid over your legs. Steve smiled and took you hand in his. Even after years of being together, it still made your heart flutter when this big, strong man was being so soft with you.

“-You look like an old man, sitting on the porch swing and watching the sunset.” You teased softly, bumping his shoulder with yours.

“-That’s because I am an old man.” he laughed.

“-True.”

You both giggled at that, stuck in your bubble, your own little world. After calming down, you leaned closer to him and put your head on his shoulder, squeezing his hand that was still holding yours. You watched as the sky shifted from blue to orange and from orange to pink. It was so pretty but if you asked Steve, he would respond that nothing was more beautiful than you. And you would disagree, and he would insist that it’s true and you would have a small, funny argument over it. But that didn’t happen today, he just placed a soft kiss to your temple and you knew what it meant: a silent ‘I love you’.

Everything was fine on the porch swing, just two lovers sharing a tender, romantic moment and the husband’s best friend behind them, not daring to interrupt their moment to tell them he burned the food.

#flufftober #flufftober2023 #fluff #steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #non binary character #nonbinary #fic #fanfiction #bucky barnes

[gay-jewish-bucky]

random question! but what’s your opinion of the Ftm!Steve and NB!Bucky headcannons? i personally love them

I enjoy them and strongly support them! I often use Bucky as a vehicle to explore my own complex relationship with gender lmaooo.

#marvel #mcu #steve rogers #bucky barnes #ftm steve rogers #nonbinary bucky barnes

[kaylakenobi]

I'm trans and that means I get to decide that my favorite characters are trans too so stfu as I list my favorite trans headcanons that I will not be giving any explanations for:

Anakin skywalker

Luke Skywalker

Peter Parker

Miles Morales

Nico Di Angelo

Percy Jackson

Steve Rogers

Newt Scamander

Steve Harrington

Thankyou for coming to my Ted talk

#trans #transgender #headcanon #anakin skywalker #luke skywalker #steve rogers #percy jackson #nico di angelo #peter parker #nonbinary

[we1rd-dan1]

marvel lgbtq+ headcanons

-spiderman/peter parker is transmasc and bisexual

-deadpool is pansexual

-captain america/steve rogers is biexual and is dating iron man/tony stark (tony give me bi vibes too)

-loki is non binary and/or genderfluid and also aroace

-thor is the protector of lesbians

-hulk/bruce banner is aroace

and that’s all , this are just my headcanons

#marvel universe #spiderman #peter parker #transmasc #bisexual #deadpool #pansexual #captain america #steve rogers #iron man #tony stark #biseuxal #loki #nonbinary #genderfluid #aroace #thor #protector of lesbians #lesbian #hulk #bruce banner

[arsenal-irl]

some of y'all weren't fundamentally changed by the super soldier serum scene in tfa and it shows.

#10 year old me learned something about themselves that day #marvel #captain america #the first avenger #captain america the first avenger #trans #transgender #nonbinary #steve rogers

[metalphoenix]

Queer Marvel Head canons

In celebration of Pride Month these are all the marvel characters I head canon as queer! 

Steve Rogers: Gay

Thor: Bi (this mans sexuality is scientist) 

Bruce Banner: Gay trans man

Natasha Romanoff: bi-demiromantic asexual 

Clint Barton: aroace trans man (marvel missed an amazing pun by not making him aroace) 

Peter Parker: Panromantic asexual trans man

Carol Danvers: Lesbian

MJ: Bi

Loki: Pan genderfluid (the Russos robbed us!) 

Bucky Barnes: Gay

Shuri: Lesbian

Valkyrie: bi

Peggy Carter: Bi

Matt Murdock: Bi

Foggy Nelson: Bi nonbinary (seriously what cis person names themself Foggy)

Karen Page: bi transwoman 

These are just a few. Honestly I have decided that every marvel character (with the exception of like 2) are queer because I can. These are just my personal head canons if you don’t agree thats fine. 

#pride month #lesbian #gay #bisexual #transgender #bisexaul #pansexual #gender fluid #asexual #aromantic #nonbinary #demiromantic #steve rogers #thor #bruce banner #natasha romanov #clint barton #peter parker #carol danvers #mj #loki odinson #bucky barnes #shuri #valkryie #peggy carter #matt murdock #foggy nelson #karen page #marvel #queer

[rome-theeempire]

Character a.i is on crack

I'm "talking" to Steve Rogers and he walks up to me, it says "he towers over you" so I responded with: "You're taller in real life"

that a.i said "Well I take super serum drugs"

WHAT😭

#lgbtq #queer pride #black queerness #genderqueer #nonbinary #transgender #black lgbtq #trans pride #transmasc #trans boy #character ai #the avengers #marvel #steve rogers #captain america #ai generated #lgbtq community #trans community #trans blog

[chernozemm]

a bit belated TDOV post but i woke up to @mrghostrat's lovely one so i guess we are being trans and visible on this fine april 1st (this is not a prank and there are no jumpscares under the cut. you are safe on my blog):

i think this year might be the 10th since i realised im trans. it didn't happen overnight, but it did start with me foraying into drawing steve rogers trans, all the way back on tumblr. its easier to offload your own feelings and ive always been exceptionally adept at sublimating my needs into art.

after a five year hiatus, the good omens got the special chernozemm treatment of me transing everyone's gender. and by god, its so fun and i get to pour all my love into my art. it has always been a love letter to the human body. but, as my lovely therapist pointed out, its kind of time to start bridging the fantasy world with the real one and apply some of that love to my very real, very mine body. its all fun to experience my gender through crowley's shenanigans, but the level of disconnect i feel when i look in the mirror cannot be healthy in the long run.

always getting ahead of myself, aren't i. i'm nonbinary/genderfluid in the way a trickster god is genderfluid. whatever is the funniest at the moment. i haven't transitioned, neither physically nor socially, mostly because my gender fluctuates way too much. but tbh, the first five years i had no access to the resources or the safety, and in the last five ive had to mostly think how to pay my next rent and tick off the super easy task of finding a good reason to want to live. (disclaimer, it actually had very little to do with dysphoria. i just got hit hardcore with the gifted kid to "failure" pipeline)

im luckily in a much better place now, and i must thank @t-he-art-of-beauty for the talk on what options i might have available. the current plan is to get on T for 1-2 years and once i get the changes i want, wean off it. but let's see what the future holds for me.

for now, im focusing on Hitting The Gym to get that soft-strong aesthetic i favour so much in my art, and mostly, just treat my body with love. i am no trickster god, i am no shapeshifter, i am but a girl (gn) who is loved and is lucky enough to have cultivated a supportive and loving online community <3 you breathe life into me.

special shout out to my delightful gf who has been my support and partner in crime for 6 lovely years and who loves me double on days i dont love myself.

#trans day of visibility #tdov #myart

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Only One I See

Sequel to One is the Loneliest Number, One on One, One Little Thing

Warnings: none, Professor Steve (that’s a warning in itself)

Dunno if I’ll be doing an exhaustive drabble series but there’s at least this. Let me know if you’re enjoying it or not and any thoughts you have. Love you!

“Nothing going on,” Inez nudges you as she stands with her copy of Wuthering Heights, “you’re a terrible liar. And so is the professor.”

“What are you talking about?” You keep your voice low as you shove your book in your bag, “I wish you’d stop.”

“Oh, come on,” she looks around at the dozen other members who showed up that week. You felt a sense of relief at seeing so many, a feeling that mirrored Steve’s, no, Professor’s expression, “we’re sitting here arguing over sexy ghost man and he’s zooot!” She makes a pinch motion with all her fingers, “pinpointed, right on you.”

“N-no,” you sniff, “I didn’t… I didn’t even say much–”

“Exactly,” she hikes her messenger bag onto her shoulder as you zip your pink polka dot backpack, “you don’t have to say anything, little miss brownie.”

“Ew, no, no, he’s…” you glance over at Rogers, another student, Lulu, stands in front of him with her copy of Bronte open. His eyes meet yours and he smiles, tweaking a brow at you, “he’s our professor. He’s…” you step closer to her and hide your whisper behind your hand, “old.”

“Not that old,” she chirps, “come on. He’s what forty? Maybe a few years over, and he’s constantly surrounded by young girls– case and point.”

She tosses another look in his direction and you see how Ainsley leans on him and giggles. He seems slightly bothered as he lets out a deep breath and pats her hand as he coaxes her away, all the while he continues to make his point. You catch a few words, something about Catherine. 

“Look around you, sunshine, do you see a single male specimen here?”

“Well,” you pull the straps of your bags up your arms, “Dani is nonbinary so–”

“Yeah but they still like dick,” she giggles.

“Oh, god, why do you have to be so gross?”

“Please tell me you weren’t that one in high school? The prude? You’re cute, I’m sure at least one guy–”

“This is college,” you insist, trying to restrain your embarrassment, “I told you, and I don’t want to keep saying it, but I’m not interested in Professor Rogers.”

“Alright, alright,” she raises her hands defensively, “so how about–”

“Excuse me,” the deep tone undercuts her detour and you pout helplessly as you turn reluctantly to the professor. You hope he didn’t hear any of that, “before you go, I found this good app for these sort of things. Helps track your reading,” he explains as he holds out a clipboard, “I’m just getting phone numbers to add everyone to the group.”

“Oh, BookSnoop, yeah I’ve heard of that,” Inez says cheerily and sends you a guilty look, “uh, here, let me give you my number.”

She takes the clipboard first and scribbles down her number then hands it to you. You do the same and give it back, the brush of fingertips with the professor making you wince, “thanks, professor.”

“Of course, and… I had an idea. I was talking to management at Marge’s, I might be able to host one of these things there.”

“Oh, that’s so cool,” you say, “I might get a bit distracted by the sweets though.”

“Count us in,” Inez grumbles, “I hate these old classrooms. They smell like khaki.”

“Mmm, yeah,” Rogers appears slightly perplexed by her comment, “well, thanks for signing up,” he hugs the clipboard against one side of his chest, “and don’t forget about your book review next class.”

“Uh, how could we forget?” Inez chuckles nervously and grabs your elbow, “excuse us, professor, we’re late for, uh… a party.”

“Okay, er, um, be safe,” he backs away awkwardly, “see you in class.”

“Buh bye,” Inez toss over her shoulder as she urges you to the door and you barely squeeze through the door ahead of her, nearly crushing against her in the tight frame.

“What’s going on? A party?” You sputter as you plant your feet.

“Look, I totally forgot about the uh, book review, so how do you feel about an all-nighter?”

“In,” you exclaim, “are you kidding me?”

“Come on, I need you to keep me awake,” she whines, “pweez, pwetty pweez, I wuv you, you know that right?”

“Don’t do that,” you sneer, “fine, I’ll help you but I swear, next time, you’re on your own. You know, I have other classes. History papers I don’t want to write.”

“Well that’s convenient, because I haven’t done Laufeyson’s paper either,” she cackles, “it’s fate.”

📃

You rub your eyes and yawn over your cold coffee cup. Inez is barely awake, her head in her hand as she scrolls on her laptop. You feel like you’re looking in a mirror, so tired your head feels like a boulder.

You scratch out notes about the Communist Revolution in your notebook, trying to make sense of it all in your fatigue fuzzed mind. As you put your pen down to stretch your cramped fingers, the subtle clack of Inez’ keyboard tapping in the silent library, your phone buzzes. The noise is loud, jarring in the lull.

She’s unbothered as her lips move with the words she types. You wonder if she’s even typing words. You have class at noon so you might get a few hours before you have to weave your way back onto campus. You snatch up your phone and unlock it, leaning back dangerously in the heavily wooden chair.

‘Hope you got home safe’ the text reads, the number unfamiliar. 

You put the phone down, assuming it’s a wrong number. You trail your fingers over your brow as Inez chews her thumb.

“What another way to say therefore, I think I’ve typed that a thousand times,” she murmurs.

“Thus, and so, consequently…” you say as you phone vibes again.

‘You didn’t drink too much, did you?’

You scowl at the screen and thumb in your response lazily, ‘I think you have the wrong number’.

Three dots appear almost as soon as you hit send. ‘It’s Steve. Checking in. Making sure you’re okay. That’s all.’

For a moment, you’re confused. Then you remember jotting down your number on the board. 

You peek up at Inez, she’s swaying before her laptop. Should you tell her? No, she’d just tease you again. He’s just nice. Maybe a bit too concerned.

‘I’m fine, professor. Just going to sleep. Good night’. There, that’ll put an end to it.

‘Sweet dreams’ he replies. You don’t answer but another message comes in. A pink heart. 

You lock the phone and sigh. You’re too tired. Besides, you know how older people are with emojis. Your mother kept sending the cry laugh emoji in very serious conversations.

“Inez,” you say gruffly, “let’s go. I need sleep.”

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #drabble #dark drabble #dark!drabble #series #professor!steve #marvel #mcu #au #avenger #captain america #drabble series

[grownfairytale]

Mend My Shattered Existence

Theme(s): Bucky Barnes (Memories, "But I knew him...") mixed with On Your Left (The Smithsonian, PTSD) and To the End of the Line (1940s, Reunion) for @catws-anniversary

Rating: M (Just to be safe)

Word Count: 8,329

Summary: Following pulling Captain America from the Potomac River, the asset - freed from HYDRA's grasp - decides to find out the truth of who he once was. Takes place between the end of Captain America: The Winter Soldier up until Bucky and Steve reunite in Captain America: Civil War

Notes: Thank you to @gay-jewish-bucky for the verbalization/contextualization of the mikvah energy. Bucky is nonbinary and uses (currently) he/him pronouns. Italicized scenes are full on memories (as opposed to descriptions of memories/fragments of memories). A couple of Steve/Bucky scenes come from an RP with a friend. Also available on AO3

AO3 Tags: Bucky Barnes, Introspection, Character study, Nonbinary/Genderqueer Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Implied sex, Implied/Referenced sexual activity, Violence, Referenced experimentation, Antisemitism, Nazis

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Barukh atah Adonai, eloheinu melekh ha-olam, asher kid-shanu b'mitz'votav, v'tzi-vanu al ha-t'vilah.

The first time the asset came up for air after plunging into the water from the helicarrier, the only thing on his mind was survival. It was only for a brief moment before the pull of the current dragged him into the water once more.

Baruch atah adonay, eloheinu, melech haolam, shehechiyanu, v’ kiyimanu, v’ higianu, lazman hazeh.

The second time he came up for air, there was struggle. Grasping. A feeling that something was off, wrong. He shouldn’t care that he was the only one who had come up and yet… A decision was made and it was into the water one more time. 

Compassionate God,

Healer of my body,

Healer of my soul,

Heal me.

Strengthen my ailing body;

Soothe my aching heart;

Mend my shattered existence.

Make me whole.

The third time the asset came up, he had made a choice for himself, against his programming. A choice to save instead of destroy. A choice that felt right and not like it went against something deep within. It didn’t make sense but it was instinct and right. In his hand was Captain America, the man he didn’t know (couldn’t know because to know was to bring pain, the scrambling of his mind to nothing but orders). His idealism would end him, but not today. Leaving the man on the bank of the Potomac River as his friends would find him, the asset disappeared in the shadows, a new mission in mind. 

As night came, the asset found himself at the Ideal Federal Savings Bank and two of the scientists who had turned him into this, a weapon, were there. The ones who made him do the things he had, the terrible things, the things Captain America didn’t know, the reason he could see him as someone he wasn't. And there was fear in their eyes.

“M…mission report…” 

“It’s done. Captain America is dead.”

Their relief was temporary, as that was when the asset struck, his true mission in motion. Revenge for the terrible things that they had done. It would be so easy. One hand pulled back, the other grasping the younger scientist’s neck and then words spoken years ago were repeated.

“I beg you. I have a daughter. P…please…” 

Whether it was a veil raising or the fog clearing just a bit more…. The asset couldn’t say. All he knew was that he didn’t want any more blood on his hands. What was there to gain? These men would scurry back to their homes, praying that their own identities would be saved from the release of information. What was there to say or do but disappear into the shadows, to become the ghost story he was in the intelligence community. Money. 

Clothes.

Washington D.C. was surveilled but a place of transients coming in and out for work, for travel. Safe houses would be burned, but that didn’t mean ingrained training disappeared. A cheap apartment to rent weekly to lay low in. An indent on the doorframe where…something familiar once had been. 

It would be a lie to say the nights were worse, or trying to sleep was when it was worse. After all, the images, the flashes, what he had done… The face in the mirror was wrong. The body, there was too much bulk. The weapon he had been forced to become. And always the pleading that never went away until the silence after the gunshot. A name had been chosen on the off chance one had to be given as it wasn’t like he knew who he was (Captain America called him Bucky, but there was no weight to that name. Nothing that tethered him to it). 

Jonathan. 

It was only at one place, Loeb’s Deli, where it seemed the asset had made the mistake to go frequently, but again, there was something familiar. And so he needed a name. Different languages spoken all around, words picked up and sentences. Not just about what had happened at the Triskelion, but the information dump, the Senate hearings, what was to come next. Then there were the conversations about the day to day going ons, travel plans. An exhibit at the Smithsonian about Captain America. The former mission.  The man he knew but didn’t know. The link to his past. 

Did he want to know, should he? Would it matter? It wouldn’t erase the blood or pain, the memories imprinted on his body even as his mind was shattered from decades of being scrambled, erased, all for the mission. Yet there was that tug, and so a week after making that fateful decision to pull Captain America from the water, that instinct to save his life despite the mission, the asset made his way to the Smithsonian, ball cap in place to avoid being caught on camera. 

Each wing seemed focused on a different part of Captain America’s life. Some of it was the sort of thing one would expect to read in a museum, yet the asset couldn’t shake the feeling that there were things missing. That feeling was pushed aside though. It was in the wing for the Howling Commandos that things changed. He saw his face there. A panel dedicated to a man he saw glimpses of himself in, James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky…

Who the hell is Bucky?

The asset turned the name over in his mind. James felt wrong in the way Jonathan was  wrong, a mask of what was seen, expected. It was something that didn’t make sense, where there weren’t words for. Bucky felt like it had to be earned. Yet it still felt more right than the other two names if only to have something to hold onto other than the asset.

The history of this James Buchanan Barnes was written there, the only Howling Commando to give his life in the line of duty. The words he read flashed images in his mind, but in that moment, the emotional tethers of those images still did not exist. Even so, it was a lead. Information, images, to chase, to see if remembering would wash over the memories that haunted him, chased him no matter the time of day.

With the week lease up, the asset, James, Bucky, made his way to the nearest train yard to sneak onto freight train headed to New York City, a city of cameras and people, a city that memorial said he had grown up, where perhaps the memories would come back, this time perhaps with those emotional connections that would tether the images to something more concrete. Something he could hold onto. 

Closing his eyes, the asset let his mind wander to what he had read and seen in the exhibit. But there were other images as well. Enemies closing in. Being separated from the others. Strapped to a table. The pain. That was something he could remember, the fire in his blood. The certainty of death. The words intermixed with his name, rank and serial number. The words he had to say when it seemed clear he would die. 

Sh’ma yisrael

Adonai eloheinu

Adonai echad…

The words were mouthed even as the images flashed again, Captain America, Steve Rogers, stood over him, relieved to a pub with the men from the exhibit to a room where Steve Rogers stood before him before his lips were on his own. At least until the formerly captured soldier stepped back warily because these were boundaries that couldn’t be crossed with his best friend. And he didn’t even know if this was real, or pity because hadn’t he just been flirting with someone else hours before? So why the change?

“I…I’m sorry, I thought that you…that I…” 

“You don’t need to pity me, I’m fine.” The voice that came out was hard, a way to guard himself. But the shock on Steve’s face made it clear that perhaps Bucky had been misreading the situation, so sure of everything and how it had been before. 

“I would never mock you, Buck. I was heartbroken when Phillips said you were most likely dead and I realized that my life wasn’t worth living if I can’t share it with you.” 

Those were words Bucky had never expected to hear, let alone from the man in front of him. 

“Never say your life is not worth living.” And with that, Bucky kissed Steve, which somehow turned to the two of them on the bed, having to remember to keep quiet as clothing was lost and limbs were entangled. Where breath became a symphony as they found a new dynamic that was always there, simmering beneath the surface, never breached and always just out of reach until now. 

And that was enough remembering, Bucky’s eyes snapping open, the images slowly fading away. There should be more emotional weight to what he had seen, what had not been in the Smithsonian exhibit. Perhaps with time but his body remembered, could feel the truth. Now though, he had to get off the train. 

New York City would have the answers. 

Arriving in Brooklyn, the borough was familiar and unfamiliar. But Bucky was used to readjusting and navigating a new location. The training to gather information, only the information being sought was information on who he had been before. Before the experiments. Before the pain. Before the orders. Before the mindless haze of what was expected by various handlers over the decades, his body not his own but the property of others. No choice. Any sign of remembering, of being Bucky, violently erased time and time again. The training did come in use though. The ability to disappear into the shadows, into the crowds of people without being noticed, without being caught on the many CCTVs the city had. 

The paths were familiar. But everything was so much more. It was something Bucky couldn’t explain. Like his feet knew where to go, like he knew that there were more people than there should be, more lights, more sounds. These were things that Bucky pushed down and instead the once Winter Soldier (no, that was all he would ever be to anyone, no matter what he did now) found another rent by the week apartment, only this one had the an empty case where the previous one only had an indent where a case once had been. Instinct and muscle memory were powerful things as Bucky raised his fingers to his lips and pressed it to the empty case, as if it meant something even knowing there should be something of importance and meaning, a promise and reminder, in the case. 

Apartment procured, the next thing to do was get enough to survive. Bucky wasn’t sure how long he would be there. What answers he would get, if any, but that would be figured out later. Right now it was getting the necessities, ensuring a go bag was ready for the second he had to up and leave. He was a blank slate, the shadows of memory reaching for him, the most foundational there already. 

The mouthed words.

The muscle memory. 

What felt familiar even when most of the images and names still were more like a flickering picture reel than anything that felt solid. 

The first night out exploring, Bucky just walked wherever his feet took him, familiar paths down unfamiliar streets. Buildings had changed and buildings also seemed the same, or some did. It was hard to say what was real and what wasn’t. The faint outline of people milling about. At least until he stopped in front of one building. The facade was different but the feeling was…. 

The exhaustion of wearing a mask. As if this was a place to go when the mask was too much. The anxiety of being spotted. More flashes of images and fragments of feelings or thoughts to make some sense of them. Men with towels around their waists or nothing at all, steam. The exploration and expression of needs and desires or just to be, the release from expectations and knowing it was only inside that building, or what had once been that building and others like it, with people like him, where the mask could be dropped. 

Another night and it was another flash of memory, two flesh hands instead of one working on a costume, no, not a costume, but something that he could never be caught wearing normally… Something that felt more true than the way everyone saw him. More secrecy. More worry of being caught. But that one night of freedom with others like him to be as he felt the most comfortable in his own skin in a world that had enough issues with him already. 

Those images and accompanying thoughts and feelings had been interesting and enough to lead Bucky to the library to do reading and research. With these flashes of images and his own history supposedly stopping in 1945, there were now seventy years of history to look up. Of progress. Of words that maybe could fill in the blanks where words hadn’t even existed before. 

The language that was used was different now… it seemed the bathhouses still existed - not like Bucky had much interest in that. And the history book mentioned the other flashes of memories seemed to line up with something known as drag balls or fairy balls, most popular during the Pansy Craze that had died out when he would have been 18, yet some had still gone on for a bit later. But more than that, there was language for that fleeting feeling he had felt.

The feeling that he had just brushed aside as being because he had no identity beyond what was given to him as the asset, before he now was searching for who he had been and who he could be. 

This feeling of being in his skin, his body. How he approached and felt about the way society saw him and he saw himself. Mouthing the terms genderqueer and nonbinary to himself, Bucky filed the information away. There was more reading to be done but the library was closing and there were candles to light as it was Friday night.  What that meant, Bucky couldn’t quite say, but he knew that it meant something and that something was going to be a lifeline. 

Nights remained the hardest though. Because at night on the floor, the images had more weight to them. 

The orders that came from his handlers. 

The pleading.

The violence that followed him wherever he went

The blood that never washed away.

Then there were the other nights.

The scientists that hovered over him.

The feeling of his blood on fire. 

Being strapped onto board. Trapped.

Exposed. 

He couldn’t breathe.

He would never be free.

Was it a wonder he barely slept? When those were the flashes that had the most emotional weight? That felt the most real? And it wasn’t as if the nightmares, the memories, were just from his time as the asset. The Winter Soldier. No. These came from before, during the war. Fighting to protect those in his unit, dragged to where no one came back from… The knowing look that his dog tags were a lie… 

Even so, every day, Bucky would wander and get more flashes. A scrawny kid getting beat up and stepping in and forever being by that kid’s side.

That had to be Steve. The museum exhibit had said that they had been inseparable both on the schoolyard and the battlefield since childhood. 

Images of three sisters, a family, dinner with candles, traditions that he felt in his bones. The familiar recitations, movements, the scents. The people were still faint but those, those were more familiar, more grounding. Those memories became part of Bucky’s weekly routine. He had found a building he wanted to go into, but it was too much of a risk and so he didn’t. But he could feel it in his bones… 

And he knew that the memorial lied about his history. Was it the dog tags he knew had lies on them in his dreams? The knowing look, the spike of anxiety from deep within that went beyond just being strapped and at the mercy of HYDRA? 

It was something more to look into. 

Because if the memorial lied, or had gotten that part wrong, what else had it gotten wrong? As the Winter Soldier, he had helped  to topple governments, he may have been nothing more than a weapon, but he knew how propaganda worked. What was the point? The things that wouldn’t be known? Sure, but that integral part of himself that he had never been able to hide, and hadn’t until the war, why hide it?

There were other flashes and memories as well, the ones that showed a side of America that it seemed history was all too keen to forget about. Questions about having horns or a tail by some kid at a funeral for…. Was that Steve’s mother? It would make sense. Snide comments. Listening to the radio and suddenly he was hearing someone else, a Father Charles Coughlin and seeing his Social Justice magazine printed with all sorts of antisemitism including claims of how America should just wait until Hitler came over to America and sending Jews away. Nazis at Madison Square Gardens. The America First Committee and German American Bund, watching the growing concerns in his family. Whispers of if it would be wise to leave. But where would be safe? 

These images painted a fuller picture, the love and joy, the friendship, but the harsh reality, yet still, the realest thing remained the Friday night candles. The blessing over wine and spices and the braided candle on Saturday. 

Bucky spent three and a half months in New York City, going to places that were familiar - Yonah Schimmel’s Knish Bakery had an oddly familiar sense to it, somewhere he had gone before. It was comforting. Bucky had found a lot of places like that in the neighborhood he had found for his weekly rental. The mix of images, good and bad, from a time long forgotten, glorified and polished with a veneer of respectability with none of those pesky things that people would have to take a closer look at, to deconstruct and grapple with. It was the past after all and look at this bright and shiny future. And in the midst of that, he had done more reading. On what he had missed in general. And more of who he might be. So when the parade came, it was… Bucky didn’t quite have the words. To see something that was now more embraced, accepted that once had been hidden for fear, that he never would have been able to voice, that he kept locked away (the museum said he had been a lady’s man….he might not have a solid grasp on his memories but what those images like a picture film showed? Definitely contradicted that particular statement). It should be overwhelming. And it was in its own way even as he observed from the shadows. So many people embracing who they were, open and proud. It was… beautiful. 

And there was a twinge that Bucky couldn’t quite place. 

The following day had started like any other, Bucky had awoken in a cold sweat, not certain where he was or who he was at first before awareness slowly settled in, then getting something warm into him before going to wander. But across the way at midday was him. Captain America. Steve Rogers. And the truth he had been avoiding came crashing down. He couldn’t stay in New York. Not only were there world governments after him, especially thanks to the dump of information, but the Avengers were based in New York City and it was only a matter of time before he risked running into the man who seemingly knew him - certainly better than he currently knew himself. Let alone in a city with so much surveillance, no matter his skill at avoiding detection. 

No. It was dangerous to chase after information on who he had once been. That didn’t mean not being prepared though. Besides, it wasn’t like he could trust himself not to be a risk and threat to the man who had once been something to him, even if that something remained undefined and unspoken in the shadows of memory that faded from his grasp. 

Which was how Bucky found himself in Bucharest, in another small apartment with papered over windows. But it was fine, he didn’t need much anyway. His go bag was in the floorboards, ready to leave at a moment’s notice, exit strategy scoped out.  Bucharest was also where some semblance of a life began for Bucky.

The country was more conservative than New York had been and in that sense, it was more familiar to a past still mostly forgotten. Despite advances in LGBTQ rights (if only for political reasons to be able to join the European Union based on reading Bucky had done), the only place he would be able to explore gender expression would be his apartment. And it wasn’t like he had any real desire to seek out sex or a relationship. He couldn’t let anyone close and there just wasn’t that interest and as he mostly stuck to himself, there was less of a mask to be worn that required that release of tension. 

The only community Bucky did seek out was the Jewish community. He hadn’t been able to seek it out in New York. While much larger than the Jewish community in Romania, the need to remain hidden had been worse in New York and here? Here Bucky, or Ion as he was known, was easier. It was grounding. The traditions that he had picked up and done, Shabbat, remained, but now he went to shul, he made sure to know what holiday fell when. 

It was the first day of Rosh Hashanah and honestly, the idea of tashlich, of casting away of his sins seemed suspect at best. Oh, Bucky went to the Dambovita River and cast sticks into the water, though how could one cast away sins where there were holes in his memory? And the actions of the Winter Soldier were far too great… It made him dread Yom Kippur. How do you make amends to those who are dead? When families could be dead at this point? When you’re in hiding? All Bucky could do was not be that person anymore, to run from the trigger words inside of him, knowing he was still a risk, a danger. So when he cast away his sins, he also focused on what he wanted for this new year. A better grasp on who he was. 

Once home, Bucky had changed into a long skirt and blouse, covering his hair with a tichel. It was something for him, no one else. He was used to hiding himself already, but no one would be coming by. It was a regular routine by that point, grounding. He didn’t have any friends, nor could he. Even at the synagogue he had found, he kept mostly to himself. It was too dangerous. But he did make sure to take care of the stray cats in the neighborhood, one he had dubbed Kochava even tended to come inside more often than not. It wasn’t like most nights though, as there were candles to be lit. 

The difference though, was that some of the images from that would flicker in and out of his mind at random seemed to be longer, the picture film images were longer. The film not so filled with holes. 

The first one involved the woman Bucky recognized as his sister, Rebecca, sitting at a table with a heavy air over them, draft notice in Bucky’s hand. 

“What if you get captured? Don’t come home?”

It was a question that had been on Bucky’s mind as well. Going into war, to fight in Europe at that, well…there were going to be added risks for him. 

“The Army’s made it so, if we want, Jews can have a P put on our dog tags to mark as Protestant instead of the H…Better than trying to obscure it and drawing attention that way.” It left a foul taste in Bucky’s mouth, to deny such an integral part of who he was, but if it meant being able to have some form of protection, he should take it, right? 

“So that’s that then.” “What would you have me do, Becca?” Looking at his sister, he could tell she was just as at much of a loss as he was. Everything was so complicated. All there was to do was take this one step at a time, even if it left a pit in his stomach to do so.

Then he had to figure out how to tell Steve. Steve, who was always so willing to jump into a fight. Steve, who was desperate to join the Army, who refused to acknowledge there were other ways to help the war effort besides throwing his life away on the front in a desperate attempt to emulate his father because he had a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. Bucky could see what was hidden within the skinny, sick frame of his best friend, the person he couldn’t bear to lose. So how to tell him that he’d been drafted, that he hadn’t chosen this at all? 

As the memory faded, the impression remained and Bucky just blinked. Usually whatever emotional weight or impression would be gone as well but this time, this time it remained. Lingered in his mind, in his soul and consciousness. Huffing out a breath, all Bucky could do was watch as the flames of the candles, wondering if this was a fluke, or if there had been a shift and there would be more memories that would linger, if the emotional weight would remain. And then the more terrifying question.

If he did remain, what did that mean?

It soon became clear that it wasn’t a fluke. There was never telling when a memory would strike, good or bad. But the more Bucky became grounded in himself through tradition - be it Shabbat or just recreating recipes from the past, and reconnecting with that part of who he were, as well as exploring what felt comfortable to dress in when there was no one around, free to be true to himself, the more the memories would come. 

They weren’t all new memories. A lot of holes from previous ones seemed to be filling in. The emotional ties that had been missing regarding his family. Regarding Steve. 

Steve who he had taken upon himself to protect from that first fight on the play yard.

Steve who terrified him whenever he got sick and nearly died.

Steve who was stubborn as a mule and made Bucky want to bang his head on a wall sometimes. 

Steve who was the best person he knew and he never wanted to let down and so Bucky had sworn never to let him know about the part of himself he couldn’t reveal to anyone outside of specific safe walls. Because he would either reject him because that was society and he was Irish Catholic so it would just be a bridge too far for him (unlikely) or he would start picking even more fights because of things said and that was the last thing Bucky needed (likely). 

Steve, who was the most important person to Bucky outside of family, who was family really and Bucky loved. But only as a brother because that was all it ever could be because Steve was Irish Catholic and as far he could tell? Very much straight. And so to avoid losing his best friend by crossing boundaries, Bucky ensured a mental barrier was in place so his feelings would never go beyond that. He couldn’t lose Steve. 

Yet the other flashes of memories seemed to tell a different story. The ones in the lead up to the war? Sure. They tell that story, but the ones from after… Stolen moments where it is clear that Steven Grant Rogers is definitely not straight. There were still holes in Bucky’s memories, memories that came out of order, but that was something that was becoming more clear. 

And as the months went on, the memories that came happened even when Bucky wasn’t doing something rooted in the foundation he had created for himself. Though often they came while in the apartment where there was nothing that really made it a home as the former Winter Soldier in search of who he had once been knew that nothing was ever going to be permanent. After all, there was nothing in Bucharest to trigger the memories. Not like in New York. 

Bucky didn’t know how long it had been since Steve had come to his room, how long they had been lost in one another, learning new things about one another… just that his curls were sticking to his forehead and he were curled up against the super soldier, his arm holding him protectively as he traced designs on his chest, his arm, his abdomen, in the silent moments of calm. But there was still that lingering question… so even as he was still catching his breath, now seemed as good a time as any (and really, who knew when another time would come up), Bucky decided to ask even as he kept his focus on the absent minded design tracing he were doing, “So… going to tell me how this happened?” 

He could feel Steve shift some, as if he knew the question was coming, and really…how could it not?

“A doctor working with the Army and Strategic Scientific Reserve thought I was the perfect candidate for his serum he wanted to try out. To create a super soldier to help turn the tide of the war. It worked but… Dr. Erskine was shot and killed by a HYDRA assassin right after I became this. Phillips wanted to stick me in a lab, but Senator Brant got me to be a seller of war bonds.” 

Bucky listened intently as Steve explained what had happened. It had to have been at the Stark Expo, the fight from before he shipped out. And yet? He looked up at the man he was curled up against through his curls, quirking a brow, “So… you let a Jewish scientist run an experiment on you in order to create a super soldier to fight the Nazis, who are killing the Jewish people… Meaning you became a golem. Do I have that right?” Noticing the blush Steve had, Bucky waited until he got his answer. 

“Pretty much. Think I prefer that to being the performing monkey Brant made me.”

“A golem is much preferable to a performing monkey.”

Steve began to stroke Bucky’s hair as he continued to speak, Bucky leaning into his touch, “Dr. Erskine said a guy like me who’d never known power would respect it when they have it…. I made a promise to him to stay a good man…” 

Seeing the way that Steve was staring at the hand he was holding up by that point, Bucky shifted and kissed the spot over his heart, reaching up to take the raised hand and interlace their fingers, “I know you will.”  

The news coming out of Sokovia was….well, it was one of the things he had worried about. There was always going to be another threat. And this time? It wasn’t all glowing headlines about them saving the day, or taking down another HYDRA base. No. Like in D.C., like in Lagos, people had died. And people were angry. The question was what would come after this. Would any action be done or would people move on? Only time would tell it seemed. 

If Bucky could stay with those memories, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But he couldn’t. Because at night, especially when Kochava hadn’t decided to follow him into the apartment and sleep right against him, the nightmares remained. Waking up unable to breathe, heart rate erratic and covered in a cold sweat. Sometimes it was the orders from his handlers that whispered in the silence. Sometimes the words of Zola, his scientists. 

Bucky fucking hated scientists these days. 

The unit that had been captured behind enemy lines, and Bucky, along with Dum Dum Dugan and Gabe Jones were forced to the weapons factory along with others who had been captured. The thing Becca had been most worried about, he had been most worried about… Bucky did his best to keep track of where he was going, the path, anything, but his head was swimming. 

At some point, they arrived, and they were shoved into a cold room, each captured soldier to be examined and processed. When it was his turn, Bucky was unceremoniously pushed into the center of the room, stripped for the scientists to examine, to determine who was to go work and who was to go behind the closed doors, never to be seen again. 

It was the chuckle that sent the shiver down his spine as opposed to the coldness of the room. 

“How interesting… What have we here, Juden? You played a gamble, proved as sneaky as the rest of your kind and now you are my rat.”

Eyes blazing, Bucky growled and lunged forward only to be beaten down with what felt like an electrified baton by someone he would later learn was named Lohmer. 

“Yes, yes. Let me see your hatred. That fire. You think you are strong…” Struggling for breath, Bucky could only glare up through the pain as the scientist who was speaking came over to him, spitting at him, only to feel the electric current once more run through his body, “Oh, you will be fun to break, to become my lab rat. Make no mistake, you won’t survive this, but your contribution to the great cause will be appreciated.” Pulled up, Bucky was allowed to redress and join the others in a cell until they were all put to work. But it was clear as the days went on that he, along with certain others, were targeted by the guards for punishment. Food that wasn’t quite right. More demanding positions. Beatings. Bucky did what he could to keep track of everything, as if he might get out. But it was clear that those who were sent behind the doors, the doors the scientist promised he’d be behind, never came out. 

The worse it got, the more he struggled. The beatings were worse, he grew weaker. The others in the cell would fight, but they also bonded. Time lost meaning. So when Bucky was finally brought back and strapped to the table, he fought as best he could even as he’d been weakened by whatever food he’d been given and the constant cold and the beatings. 

“We meet again… let’s begin, shall we?”If Bucky thought it was bad before, it had just gotten so much worse. 

It was bad enough to have his mind and identity wiped, to be so scrambled he didn’t know who he was. To lose that foundational core of who he was. But to become a weapon for the group who sought to destroy his people like so many before, to kill them and erase them…. It made Bucky’s blood boil. And the anger that almost never went away with that. Kochava would jump on his lap whenever the anger was at a danger point, calm him but it was so much. It hurt so much. And there was never going to be anything he could do to atone. It wasn’t him but did that matter?

Every time a part of him came through, he was strapped down again, scrambled, so there was nothing left. They tracked him. His vitals. How many times now had Bucky tried to scratch and dig those out? Each time he thought he had gotten the last of them, of the tracking devices, the paranoid part of his brain said there was more. But no one had used them to search for him, so they had to be out… right?

It was only a few weeks after the events in Sokovia when Bucharest had its own Pride Parade. Nothing like that in New York, but apparently it had gotten over double the people this year than the previous year (over 1,000 people as opposed to 400). Bucky of course wasn’t going to go. He kept a low profile. But it was nice to see all the same. 

At the same time, while it didn’t trigger a memory per se, it did make something fall into place. Again, one of those things where he didn’t have the words necessarily back in the 30s and 40s that he had now (even as he was still wrapping his mind around it all and figuring out what worked best for him). Admittedly, he hadn’t really looked into sexuality while in New York and he likely wouldn’t while here as it didn’t seem pertinent when one was in hiding. But it was still a realization all the same. 

He had always known that having sex with a woman was not something that had any interest for him. Flirting and charming was just an act and what was expected to keep suspicion off of him. So he’d gone to the gay bathhouses whenever that mask of masculinity had been overbearing. The exploration and experimentation, learning what he liked and didn’t. Even in the heat and steam of the bathhouses, Bucky on his knees for someone, or using his hands on someone, he responded to the physical stimuli and enjoyed it, but just seeing someone? It never did anything.

Until Steve showed up in the pub in that damn suit, when Bucky’s mind was still out of sorts and all attempts to keep the barrier in place that he could only love him as a friend or brother were well and truly shattered. Because there was that connection and deep bond the two had always had. And dammit if Bucky hadn’t wanted that man to jump him there and then, despite the law. Wanted to be with him and screw what society said. No one had ever made Bucky feel the way Steve did. 

Steve eventually had said that he had never really thought about his own sexuality. Women never did anything for him, and who would want some scrawny guy anyway? He had just been waiting for the right person. Then things had clicked that night in the pub as well for him and that was all there was to it. There were appearances to be had, of course, but the two knew the truth and wasn’t that the important thing?

Steve had made his pitch for the Howling Commandos, and of course, despite it all, Bucky had agreed. Where Steve went, Bucky followed. It had always been that way, from the very beginning. It might not have seemed that way but that didn’t change the fact that it always had been. Someone had to have his back. And because Bucky had had way too many drinks by that point, trying to drown the crushing realization that he could never walk back from, he had let slip just a bit of his thoughts. His feelings. As if that declaration to follow Steve hadn’t been a declaration in and of itself. So leaning forward so only the super soldier could hear, Bucky spoke almost conspiratorially, flirting, charming. 

“You’re keeping the outfit, right?” And then leaned back with a quick once over of his best friend, because that had been smooth. No it hadn’t. Bucky, for all the suave bravado he was putting on, was still a mess from what HYDRA had done to him at Azzano. And if Steve clearly thought he was messing with him, thinking he meant the Captain America one and not what he was wearing at the moment.

“You know what, it’s kind of growing on me.”

Then a hush seemed to come over the pub as the agent walked in, so of course both stood up as she walked to where they had been sitting.

“Captain.”“Agent Carter.”

Bucky had to give her taste in the dress she wore. It was very eye-catching and he wouldn’t mind wearing something similar.

“Ma’am.” He received the briefest of acknowledgement before she turned her attention back to Steve. Yeah. That was clearly a thing.

“Howard has some equipment he would like for you to try. Tomorrow morning?” 

“Sounds good.”

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty.” With the tension between the two (how else was there to read it?) Bucky just put on the charm, the facade, that was always there, that was expected of him. 

“You don’t like music?” 

“I do, actually. I might, even, when this is all over, go dancing.” And yet she kept her attention on Steve, not even paying attention to him. Which fine. Not like he could blame her, she was seeing him the way Bucky always had. Okay, time to try harder. If only to prove to himself that he wasn't broken like Zola had promised to do to him. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” 

“The right partner. Nine sharp, Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.” 

Watching as Peggy walked away, there was only one thing that came to mind, one dangerous thing clawing at his mind that he had always avoided being. 

“I’m invisible,” To be invisible made it easier to be disappeared by people who wanted you gone. So Bucky had always been the top of his class, best at athletics, the charmer even when he never actually did anything, it was a well honed mask to protect him and it was shattered, “I’m turning into you.” Not the nicest thing to say but he was supposed to be messing with Steve, the same back and forth they always had and he couldn’t let him see the truth, “This is a horrible dream.” 

“Don’t take it so hard. Maybe she has a friend.” As Steve patted his shoulder, it was clear he had seemed to buy it. At least in that moment, which was what Bucky had wanted. Yet it still stung, so he just shook his head.

“I’m heading up for the night. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”

Leaving the pub, Bucky headed up to where the group had been put up for their leave, showering to get a hold of himself. He knew this was how it was going to be, so he just had to pull himself together. This was why that barrier had existed in the first place. It was while he’d been toweling off after putting pajama pants on that he heard the knock at his door. And who was there but Steve. “Everything okay?” “Yeah… Can I come in?” As if Bucky would turn Steve away, he just stepped aside to let his now taller best friend in (would that ever stop being weird?). He looked… well he didn’t look drunk but like he’d been thinking over things. 

“I just want you to know, you aren’t invisible, and that I see you. The real you.” Just what was Steve on? The whole point was for him to think that he had been messing around with him like he always did. He hadn’t needed to read anything more into that. It was dangerous for him to do that.

“O…kay….” But suddenly the blond man was in his space and kissing him and he was kissing him back and nothing was making sense but everything was falling into place the way it always should have been. 

Spring turned into summer and summer turned into fall and once again it was Rosh Hashanah and once again the idea of casting tashlich seemed pointless. Because even as his memories were coming more and more, the missions, who he had been, there was still no way to make amends, there was still no way to make it right. He couldn’t even trust his own mind after all. He had found more of himself, not so much a complete balance - that could never come - but he knew who he was. Had his foundation, for there were days when he forgot all over again but the traditions remained and the memories came back. He could be more true to himself in the safety of the apartment for as long as he remained hidden. 

Bucky was eating an apple when he noticed his reflection, he had tried some makeup this time along with the skirt and blouse, hair styled, which just led to his mind drifting.

It was another stolen moment in the midst of war, doing what they could to be together and just being the same as they always had. It turned out, nothing had really changed in that regard and why should it? 

“You know, get me into a USO outfit, some Victory Red lipstick, then if someone asks you, you can just say you lost your virginity during the USO tour.” “Oh yeah?” There’s amusement in Steve’s eyes at that and Bucky is keeping the tone light even though there’s a part of him that wishes Steve knew that he wasn't actually joking. Maybe about the specific outfit, but the idea in general? To let him see that part of him?

“Yeah. I bet my legs would look amazing.” “You know? I can see it.” There’s laughter in Steve’s voice but just for a moment, Bucky lets himself imagine a time and place where he can show that part of himself to him. After the war. Where it isn’t him just joking around. Or Steve joking and Bucky hiding the truth behind a joke.

Well, Steve was never going to get to see that part of him. Like the rest of the world, he saw him as the Winter Soldier. Bucky had known from the beginning that was who he would always be now. No matter what he did, even if there were some way to atone, in the end, he had killed too many, done too much…. Steve was hunting down the Winter Soldier, so even if Bucky could trust his mind to be around Steve without the risk of hurting him again - god how could he have hurt Steve? - It was too late for them. 

The memories continued to flesh out. To become etched in Bucky’s soul over the foundation of his culture, his traditions, that grounding force that had brought him out of the Potomac River. There were memories he couldn’t tell if they were real or not, and there was no one there to tell him one way or the other. There was no way to tell, really, how long he had been out of hibernation for HYDRA either. If he weren’t on a mission, he’d been put into hibernation. 

So Bucky continued the tenuous life he had made for himself in Bucharest, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had left New York because it had been dangerous looking for answers, yet the memories had come anyway. He had known that he would always need to be ready for the worst to come and it was coming on to two years of being in the same location. Tensions hadn’t eased since the previous year and Sokovia either. No. Bucky followed the news. The fact that so many world governments were on the same page, meeting together. 

It was a recipe for disaster. 

Which was why it came as no surprise when Bucky was out getting food for the week when he felt eyes on him then that someone disappeared. Going to the newstand, he saw the news from Austria. He had apparently attacked the signing of the Sokovia Accords, killing people.

Except…. He hadn’t done that. Even with waking up at times not knowing who or where he was, he hadn’t blacked out long enough for that to be possible. Which meant it was time to leave. So much for getting the rest of his food. Bucky quickly headed to his apartment, mind going over what was needed. Well, nothing. He kept almost nothing there, just the necessities, he had his go bag still ready to go, and  he could only hope someone else would take up the cause of the stray cats abandoned to the streets. 

What he wasn't expecting (but probably should have) was to see Captain America standing in his apartment. And if he was there, others would be there soon as well. 

You’re. My. Mission.

Then finish it, cuz I’m with you to the end of the line. 

He hadn’t heard him come in yet, too engrossed in what he was reading. Which meant he had found his journal of important dates, of memories that he was trying to keep track of given there was no linear fashion to how they happened or way to tell at times. 

Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own. 

The thing is, you don’t have to. I’m with you to the end of the line, pal. 

“Understood.”

Captain America was talking to someone but finally seemed to realize he wasn’t alone in the apartment, and just as Bucky assumed, one of his journals of memories was in his hand as he turned to face him. 

“You know me?”

You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?Hell, no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight? I’m following him.

“You’re Steve.”

#catws10 #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve x bucky #stucky #jewish bucky barnes

[mieczyhale]

#re doing this poll bc i hadnt tagged everything the first time and that doesn't feel fair #not all the hc ones are mine. some are just popular #klaus hargreeves #camilo madrigal #lafontaine #dax #theo putnam #tony sawicki #desire #eddie munson #steve rogers #viktor hargreeves #the umbrella academy #encanto #carmilla #star trek ds9 #chilling adventures of sabrina #orphan black #sandman #stranger things #captain america #maison speaks

[a-strange-echo]

Flufftober day4: "Cinderella moment"

Pairing: Pre-serum!Steve Rogers x gn! Reader

Summary: When working on fixing a boat on a hot day, Steve can't help but compare himself to Bucky again. Luckily, Y/N is there to remind him what really matters.

Word count: 555

Warnings: self-estime issues, self-worth, other than that, none, pure fluff

Author's note: finally up to date! WOO!

Author's feelings: wasn't too sure about it at first (at think you can tell by reading it) but I'm really glad with the end and the way it turned out!

Y/N, Steve and Bucky had been friends since childhood, there wasn’t a moment when one wasn’t with the other. Even when they would fight (which was rare) it wouldn’t last long. They were best friends and will always be, no matter what happens. Bucky knew of Steve’s feelings for Y/N and would often tease him about it, although never in front of them. Bucky felt something changed in the group dynamic when they were around 19 but he was fine with it, he could manage Steve constantly gushing over Y/N when in private. He would much rather deal with a head over heels Steve that with a crying, heartbroken Steve.

“-Are you sure you guys don’t want to take a break?” Y/N asked from their sitting spot on the dock.

“-Yes, we will be over soon.” Bucky yelled from the other side of the boat.

Both he and Steve got hired by a nice old man from the dock who asked for help to fix his boat. The boys and Y/N agreed, but it was very hot today and Y/N opted to take a break and drink a nice chill glass of water while the men continued to work but with now their shirt off. Sometimes, a few young ladies and gentlemen walking by would stop to admire and talk with Bucky but it wasn’t who Y/N got their eyes on.

“-Oi, stop mashing! Poor Stevie is doing all the work!” Y/N called for Bucky. “Although I’m not complaining for I have a very good view…” they said having, indeed, a nice view of Steve’s frail back and butt. “He looks like he could use some help.”

Nobody could see it but Steve blushed like crazy from the comment. What Y/N saw however was the nasty look one of the men sent their way after assessing Steve. Their only response to that was to glare harder and appear meaner to scare the guy and to show Steve was well protected.

“-Then why don’t you help him?” Bucky asked, not really annoyed by the interruption.

“-I’m not strong enough.”

“-Y/N, I don’t need help.” Steve intervened.

“-Stevie, not to offense you, but you look like you are going to pass out. Take a break.” their voice was immediately softer when addressing to him.

Steve sighed but complied, putting the tools down and walking toward the dock, starting to feel dizzy. Y/N patted the empty spot next to them for him to sit and he did. He grabbed a coke that the old man gave them from the cooler next to him, trying to cool down. The two watched the scenery. It wasn’t the prettiest by all means but in this instant, they were the only existing on this dock. The sun was soon going to set and the distant chatting of Bucky and other passers-by were a nice change in pace compared to the buzzing of the city.

“-Do you think I could be like him one day?” Steve asked and Y/N didn’t have to look at him to know he was referring to Bucky.

“-Why should you be like him when you are already so much more?” They asked back. When he didn’t respond and only looked down, blushing, Y/N put their head on his bony shoulder. “Besides, I’ve always preferred smaller men.”

#skinny!Steve Rogers x reader #pre serum steve x reader #pre-serum steve #nonbinary #non binary character #flufftober2023 #fluff #flufftober #queer Steve Rogers #bisexual #bisexual steve rogers #pansexual bucky barnes #pansexual #lgbt writers #lgbt #lgbtq

[dreamlandcreations]

Thank you for the tag @kayhi808

Rules: reveal the titles of the documents in your WIP folder and tag as many people as there are documents. Let others ask questions about the ones that interest them and post snippets or explain the contents as you see fit!

I'm starting a new post bc I have too many WIPs (and these are just the ones in my drafts) 🙈

tag as many people as there are documents... but but but there are more than a hundred drafts 😭 anyway

tagging: @zablife @raincoffeeandfandoms @cinebration @marvelmusing @massivecolorspygiant @celestialspecial @stardustmorozov @startrekkingaroundasgard @oneeyedvisenya @happilyhertale @drabbles-mc @withmyteeth @runnning-outof-time @storiesbyrhi @nickfowlerrr

Little Miller - Benny Miller x Reader

Not tonight - Boba Fett x assassin!Reader (x Fennec Shand)

Speak freely - Boba Fett x half alien!Reader (platonic)

Games - Boba Fett x Mandalorian!Reader

Just a simple man - Jango Fett x half alien!Reader

Happily ever after - Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Hey, Kid - Poe Dameron x Skywalker!Reader

First - Poe Dameron x Skywalker!Reader

The King - Tattooed Biker!Boba Fett x Reader

A deal is a deal - Raymond Smith x half Asian!Reader

Day and Night - Brother Day x Reader

Second Chances - Boba Fett x force sensitive!Reader

One King - Bishop x vampire!Reader (Night Teeth!au)

Reality - Boba Fett x force sensitive!Reader

I know what day it is - Bishop x Reader

Slave to Sensation - changeling!Billy Russo x psy!Reader

Angel's crush - Bishop x tattoo artist!reader

What you need - Billy Russo x autistic!Reader

What you want - Billy Russo x autistic!Reader

What you have - Billy Russo x autistic!Reader

Tangled, twisted or maybe something right - Billy Russo x Stark!Reader

Best friend - Bucky Barnes x Wilson!Reader

Stranger - Billy Russo x Reader

Apprentice - Doctor Strange x sorceress!Reader

Misery loves company - Venom x Reader x Eddie

We broke up - Eddie x Reader x Venom

Once upon a time - King Arthur x royal!Reader

Wicked - shifter!Santi x witch!Reader

Desert Flower - shifter!Benny x (non)human!Reader

Reaper - Venom x Reader x Eddie

The proposal (Would you like to series) Tommy x Reader x Alfie

Kissing Alfie Solomons - Alfie x Reader

Lighten up - Darkling x Fjerdan!Reader

Faeted hearts - fae king!Alfie x half-fae!Reader

Castaway AU - Billy Russo x Reader

Grimm AU - blutbad!Alfie x grimm!Reader

Fearless - Alfie Solomons x Shelby!Reader

I'm here for you - Billy Russo x Reader

Scheming, games and secrets - Alfie x Reader + Tommy

Fortune Favours the Brave - Eddie Munson x cheerleader!Reader

What women want - Billy Russo x genderfluid/nonbinary(afab)!Reader

Slayer - dragon shifter!Alfie Solomons x warrior princess!Reader

See you at the office - Alfie Solomons x ex-assistant!Reader

Weave it into words - (clan leader) king!Alfie Solomons x Shelby princess!Reader (Brave AU)

Crave the love - prince!Billy Russo x princess!Reader

Jeweller - Alfie Solomons x Tatiana's cousin!Reader

What's underneath? - Alfie x Reader

You only need to ask - Raymond Smith x aristocrat!Reader

What about dessert? - chef!Alfie x manager!Reader (modern!au)

The bright side - FO!Poe Dameron x Jedi!Reader

More than seeking comfort - Eddie Brock x Reader

Bait - Derek Hale x hunter!Reader

Cosy on the throne - Tattooed Biker!Boba Fett x Reader

This is not your color - Eddie Munson x Reader

Distraction - Max x Reader (Mad Max: Fury Road)

Three is still a company - Billy Russo x Reader x Frank Castle

You missed a spot - Brother Day x Reader

Behind closed doors - Darkling x Sun Summoner!Reader

Don't mind me - Alfie Solomons x Reader (x Tommy Shelby)

Feeling adventurous? - Eddie Munson x Reader

I can wait - Alina x Reader (Darkling x Alina x Mal)

Why the f*ck not? - Alfie Solomons x Reader x May Carleton x Tommy Shelby

Solace - Boba Fett x Reader

First time - Billy Russo x Reader

I'm all yours - Billy Russo x Reader

Patience - Billy Russo x Reader

The Happiest Day of Our Lives - Darkling x Sun Summoner!Reader

Mirror, mirror - Aleksander Morozova x Reader (xAlina)

Perfect - Darkling x Reader

Necessary evil - Darkling x Inferni!Reader

King of the Seven Seas - Atlantean king!Alfie x Reader

Don't you f*cking dare - chef!Alfie Solomons x manager!Reader

Do you doubt me? - James Delaney x Strange!Reader

Remedy - James Delaney x Reader

Unexpected - Matt Murdock x Reader x Elektra

Sweet torment - Alfie Solomons x Reader

Mr CEO - Billy Russo x Reader

Complications - Darkling x reader

Preying on you tonight - werewolf!Billy Russo x Reader

Sweet victory - Jake Seresin x Reader

The fun kind - Jake Seresin x Reader

Catch me if you can - Jake Seresin x Reader

Black and White - Darkling x Fjerdan princess!Reader

Stay Forever - Jake Seresin x BFF!Reader

In my corner - Billy Russo x Reader

Heartbeat - Milo/Lucien Crown x Reader

Just friends - modern!Alfie Solomons x Reader

That's the rule - Jake Seresin x Reader

Fire and Blood - Daemon x daughter!Reader (platonic)

The Bronze Witch - Aemond Targaryen x Daemon's daughter!Reader

Unity - Darkling x Fjerdan!Reader x Nikolai Lantsov

Risk and reward - Jake Seresin x Reader

Late night visit - Aemond x Reader

Peace offering - Aemond x Reader

The first warning - Darkling x Grisha!Reader

Stay with me - Darkling x Grisha!Reader

Like calls to like - Darkling x Grisha!Reader

Darkest hearts - Darkling x Nikolai's twin!Reader

Nothing - Darkling x Grisha!Reader

Heartbreak - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader

The eternity of this day - Darkling x Sun Summoner!Reader

A dream come true - Eames x Reader

A debt to be paid - Aemond x Reader

Honourable Quest - Xenk Yendar x Reader

Honouring a Debt - Xenk Yendar x Reader

Sacrifice of Honour - Xenk Yendar x Reader

My Queen - Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Naru - Sesshōmaru x modern!Reader

Fire and Blood, Ashes and Dust - Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

Give him to me - Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

The Taming of the Dragon - Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

The day you died - supervillain!Darkling x superhero!Reader

#wip tag game #i'm the worst #🙈

[theyraylovehate]

Wheel of Fan Fiction Masterlist

Smut 🔥

Fluff 🌸

Angst 💧

*This is like brand new so most of the characters won't have anything just yet*

•Stranger things

-Billy Hargrove

-Steve Harrington

-Eddie Munson

-Robin Buckley (Fem/NB only)

-Argyle

-Johnathan Byers

-Nancy Wheeler

-Jim Hopper

-Joyce Byers

-001/Henry

-Will Byers (No smut)

-Mike Wheeler (No smut)

-Max Mayfield (No smut)

Hateful Cuddling - Female reader 🌸

-Dustin Henderson (No smut)

-Lucas Sinclair (No smut)

-Eleven (Jane) Hopper (No smut)

•Marvel

-Iron Man/Tony Stark

-Captian America/Steve Rogers

-Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff

-Hawkeye/Clint Barton

-Hulk/Bruce Banner

-Thor

-Loki

-Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes

-Black Panther/T'challa

-Doctor Strange/Steven Strange

-Scarlet Witch/Wanda Maximoff

-Quicksilver/Pietro Maximoff

-Starlord/Peter Quill

-Gamora

-Spiderman/Peter Parker

-Falcon/Sam Wilson

-War Machine/James Rhodes

-Valkyrie (Fem/NB only)

•X-Men

-Professor X/Charles Xavier

-Magneto/Erik Lensherr

-Wolverine/James Howlett

-Quicksilver/Peter Maximoff

-Rogue

-Jean Grey

-Storm/Ororo Munroe

-Cyclops/Scott Summers

-Mystique/Raven

-Beast/Henry "Hank" McCoy

-Nightcrawler/Kurt Wagner

-Havok/Alexander Summers

•DC/Young Justice

-Batman/Bruce Wayne

-Superman/Clark Kent

-The Flash/Barry Allen

-Aquaman/Authur Curry

-Cyborg/Victor Stone

-Joker/Jack Oswald White

-Harley Quinn/Harleen Quinzel

-Wonder Woman/Diana Prince

-DeadShot/Floyd Lawton

-Kid Flash/Wally West

-Nightwing (Robin #1)/ Dick Grayson

-Red Hood (Robin #2)/ Jason Todd

-Robin (#3)/ Tim Drake

-Beast Boy/Garfield Logan

-Superboy/Johnathan "Jon" Kent

-Artemis/Artemis Crock

-Red Arrow/Roy Harper

-Green Arrow/Oliver Queen

-Black Canary/Dinah Lance

-Miss Martian/Megan Morse

-Aqualad/Kaldur'ahm

•Umbrella Academy

-Luther Hargreeves (#1)

-Diego Hargreeves (#2)

-Allison Hargreeves (#3)

-Klaus Hargreeves (#4)

-Five Hargreeves (#5)

-Ben Hargreeves (#6)

-Viktor Hargreeves (#7)

-Marcus Hargreeves (#1)

-Fei Hargreeves (#3)

-Alphonso Hargreeves (#4)

-Sloan Hargreeves (#5)

-Jayme Hargreeves (#6)

-Lila Aryu

-The Handler

•Harry Potter

-Harry Potter

-Ron Weasley

-Hermione Granger

-Fred Weasley

-George Weasley

-Ginny Weasley

-Draco Malfoy

-Sirius Black (Older)

-Cedric Diggory

-Oliver Wood

-Neville Longbottom

-Luna Lovegood

-Remus Lupin (Older)

-Nymphadora Tonks

-Lucious Malfoy (Older)

-Narcissa Malfoy (Older)

-Severus Snape (Older)

-Bill Weasley

-Charlie Weasley

•Marauders

-James Potter

Friendly Love - Male reader 🌸

-Lily Evans

-Sirius Black

-Remus Lupin

-Severus Snape

-Regulus Black

-Lusious Malfoy

-Narcissa Black

-Peter Pettigrew

•Greek Mythology

-Zeus

-Hades

-Posideon

-Apollo

-Hera

-Persephone

-Ares

-Athena

-Demeter

-Aphrodite

-Artemis

-Dionysus

-Hermes

•Divergent

-Beatrice "Tris" Prior

-Caleb Prior

-Eric

-Peter

-Christina

-Will

-Tobias "Four"

-Zeke

Zip line of Love - Nonbinary Reader (Requested) 🌸

-Uriah

•Star Wars

-Anakin Skywalker

-Luke Skywalker

-Leia Organa

-Han Solo

-Obi-Wan Kenobi

-Kylo Ren

•Supernatural

-Dean Winchester

-Sam Winchester

-Castiel

-Crowley

-Lucifer

-Rowena MacLeod

-Gabriel

-Charlie Bradbury (Fem/NB only)

-Chuck Shurley

-Jody Mills

-Ellen Harvelle

-Kevin Tran

•The Walking Dead

-Rick Grimes

-Daryl Dixon

-Glenn Rhee

-Carl Grimes

-Maggie Greene

-Negan

-Michonne

-Shane Walsh

-Rosita Espinosa

-Carol Peletier

-Paul "Jesus" Monroe

-Abraham Ford

‐Tara Chambler (Fem/NB only)

-Enid

-Ezekiel

-Aaron (Masc/NB only)

•The Walking Dead Game

-Clementine

-Lee

-Kenny

-Luke

-Javier

-Gabriel

-Kate

-Louis

-Omar

-Ruby

-Mitch

-Marlon

-Violet (Fem/NB only)

IT (2017)

-Richie Tozier

-Beverly Marsh

-Eddie Kaspbrak

-Bill Denbrough

-Stanley Uris

-Ben Hanscom

-Henry Bowers

-Mike Hanlon

-Patrick Hockstetter

-Victor Criss

-Belch Huggins

•Desendants

-Mal

-Evie

-Ben

-Jay

-Jane

-Chad

-Doug

-Lonnie

-Carlos

-Uma

-Harry Hook

-Gil

•Maze Runner

-Newt

-Minho

-Gally

-Teresa

-Alby

-Chuck

-Brenda

-Aris

-Thomas

-Frypan

-Jorge

[workingdownthewordmine]

Love Thy Neighbour - Chapter 3 Unbidden Guest

Bucky's uninvited housemate makes themself known.

Read this chapter on AO3 here.

Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe Characters: James "Bucky" Barnes, Nonbinary OC, Steve Rogers Rating: T CW: Violence, choking, threatening with a gun, bleeding, hearing voices, hearing the voice of an abuser, references to murder, torture, suicide, violence, sexual assault Prompts filled: Fandom Free Bingo Frosty Edition: Stay a while @fandom-free-bingo Fluffbruary: Day 26: Care package, Day 28: Shelter @fluffbruary Winter Wonderland: Covering the other with a blanket @seasonaldelightsbingo Any Fandom Angst: Held at gunpoint @anyfandomangstbingo LGBTQ+: Non-binary!Character @lgbtqbingo

Dividers by @unfortunate-beetle-and-friends

“Don’t ask the name of anyone that asks you for shelter.” Victor Hugo

It had been some time since Bucky had wished so fiercely that he could just stop waking up, stop coming back to a reality that became more of a nightmare each time. Before he opened his eyes he pleaded with the darkness to tighten again, to choke him back out of the world. A little longer, even if it couldn’t be forever, even if it could only be moments more before he had to open his eyes to-

A wet cloth on his skin, stroked down his cheek. For a handful of heartbeats, misery gave way to something almost like contentment. Complacency. Deadly. The horror burst through and propelled him into a rush of movement. He couldn’t go back. They wouldn’t take him back.

The body crouched over him was only a dark blur, hurled across the room and into a wall. It crumpled and he was upon it. His charge was clumsy but he didn’t need precision. His hand was around a throat. He’d need hardly a flick of a Vibranium wrist to snap their neck. The figure was smaller than him, pinned in his shadow, starting to tremble with the need for air. He had secured their arms beneath his knees without thinking about it, his shin across their legs to prevent them from kicking him. He was doing better. All that was left was the kill… It would be instant, almost entirely painless. He would not fail this time.

He froze. They weren’t struggling. They weren’t fighting him at all. There had been no raised alarm. No other movement in the room except the two of them. Bucky struggled to focus through blinding panic and burning eyes. He loosened his grip just enough to allow them a breath, and pushed the muzzle of his pistol beneath their chin. “Why shouldn’t I kill you right now?”

They looked up at him without terror, as though the ease with which he could end their life concerned them little. “Look at your hand.” Reluctantly, he allowed his eyes to flicker downwards – perhaps because the words had been more of a plea than a demand or a threat, or perhaps because defying the voice telling him to do what he was made for and kill was taking too much of his concentration. Even in the gloom, he could see the wet shine, and the scent of blood rose thickly from it. He’d felt no pain at all. “There’s no wound. It’ll stop in a few seconds. I – I could have put the bleed in your neck, or your brain. I didn’t. Please. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want to hurt you.” He stiffened. Their eyes widened and they spoke more quickly. “If I’d meant you any harm, I could have done something about it either of the times I’ve found you unconscious today. Right? I have no reason to hurt y-“ His hand pressed down again, choking off their words.

“Reckon I can squeeze a trigger faster than you can do your little magic trick.”

“Maybe.” They could do little more than shape the words but just enough of a hiss escaped for him to follow. “Don’t want to bet my life on it. Seen-” They shuddered, desperately sucking in a scrap of air. “Seen how fast you are.”

He growled and shook them by the throat. They pinched their eyes shut as if they expected death to follow. If they’d also started his brain bleeding, he couldn’t tell. “You’ve been spying on me. Sneaking round in my building. Now you’re fucking with me in my apartment. Why?” He shook them again. Their skull thudded heavily on the floor, long black hair escaping their ponytail. “Why? Tell me why I shouldn’t fucking kill you? You don’t want to hurt me? Then what do you want?”

They tried to reply but could only gurgle. He eased off their throat. “Help. Need help.” His hand lifted a little more, answering a deeper impulse than thought. With an effort, he overpowered the voice in his mind long enough to listen. Their eyes searched his as though watching the struggle. His hand tensed on their neck.

“Talk. Fast.”

They swallowed. He felt the fragile movement through his palm. “Shelter. Please. I don’t want to kill you. And,” Their dark eyes tracked his face again. “I may not be an expert on trained assassins but I don’t think you want to kill me either.” Had he imagined the emphasis? Had it been unintentional? Their voice was trembling. Short on breath, laden with pain. He couldn’t be sure.

“Someone wants you dead though. And personally, right? In more than the ‘all mutants are dangerous monsters’ way.”

“A lot of people. That’s why I need somewhere safe. I thought – I mean, you seemed like someone who’d be sympathetic.”

His lip pulled back in a snarl. “Because I’m a dangerous monster too?”

They didn’t flinch as they met his eyes. “Pretty much. You know what it’s like. Not to want to be someone else’s weapon. To not trust the good guys much more than the bad guys. Right?”

The adrenaline was wearing off. His head was starting to swim again. He should finish them fast, then he could sleep. Alone and safe. “So which do you think you are? A good guy or a bad guy?”

“Just a guy. I’m not much of a team player.” He felt a tremor as though they had tried to laugh. They swallowed again. He knew his face hadn’t given anything away, so they must have realised for themselves that apparent amusement was doing them no favours. “Look, there’s no one outside this room who has my back, or who I report to, or – I hope – who has any idea where I am. I just need somewhere to stay, where I can keep my head down.”

It was a terrible decision, really, not to kill them. He would be safer with them gone. He’d have his solitude back. This was his home. Perhaps he could have handled sharing it with Steve if he’d wanted to leave the compound, but not any random stranger who fancied moving in – especially not here, in his apartment.

“What were you doing in here?” The pistol pressed harder under their chin, forcing their head back a little more.

“I was worried about you. I heard you screaming earlier, and I found you in the basement all bashed up. I wanted to bring you back up here but I could only manage one flight of stairs. Vibranium’s heavy, I guess. Didn’t really know how I’d get you past the traps either – I unfastened some of trip wires but it seemed pretty obvious there’d be more inside. Didn't fancy killing either of us. I came to check on you later and you weren’t where I’d left you – figured you’d got back up here by yourself. I was going to just leave you to it but when I passed by the door there were weird noises. I knocked. You didn’t answer and the noises got weirder so I looked for another way in that you hadn’t rigged to blow up or eviscerate visitors.” Their eyes flicked towards the open closet, the one he’d been trying to block back up. “You were passed out again. You were breathing like shit and your skin and eyes were all red. I was worried.”

They tried to shrug. Their own breathing wasn’t so hot either. He eased off their throat just a little more. Their words had brought his discomfort into much clearer focus. Now he couldn’t help but notice how his breath was whistling and every inch of exposed flesh felt like it had been splashed with acid.

“You got down to the basement through there, right?” Another glance at the closet. “Not surprised you feel like shit. Insulation’s made of fibreglass. Not stuff you want to handle, much less breathe.” They frowned up at him. He could almost have believed they actually were as concerned for his welfare as for the ease with which he could end their life right now. Probably an ability to make someone bleed into their own brain with a thought was quite a confidence boost. If they could really do any such thing. What evidence did he have? His hand? Could have cut it on something and just not noticed. A quick enough thinker could take advantage of that, sure. After being thrown half way across the room and slammed into the floor. With a gun pressed to their head. Probably. And he had to concede that anyone who could do shit like that would definitely be a sought-after commodity for the worst people. Someone like that was definitely not the kind of unknown factor he wanted hanging around, right?

When was the last time anyone had sought him out to ask for help?

“Sit up. Slowly.” He released them and shifted away, gun still readied.

They waited until he’d made some space between them before awkwardly levering themselves upright and raising both hands level with their shoulders in surrender. “I, uh, I’m not armed. I mean, not in any way you can confiscate without decapitating me, which I’d really rather you didn’t. But I guess, if searching me makes you feel any better about letting me stick around, you can…”

Bucky looked them over. The baggy hoodie, the same that had been used for a pillow earlier, and cargoes could have hidden any number of weapons, but they’d made a decent point – if they’d been planning to kill him it was a risk and a waste of time waiting until now. He shook his head. “Just don’t make me regret my trusting and forgiving nature.” They offered a casual salute and even a small grin. “What time is it?”

A shrug. “Don’t know, but probably after ten. Here. Drink. Pretty sure your throat’s still full of glass fibres.” They reached into a cardboard box beside them surrounded by a few scraps of rope and tossed a bottle over to him, then rolled their eyes dramatically when he didn’t reach for it. “Not that convinced I’m not trying to kill you, then? Here.” They grabbed another bottle, cracked the top, and took a long swig. He watched their throat working and found himself recalling that movement under his hand. They recapped the bottle and offered it to him. “Monkey see, monkey do.”

The smirk was infuriating but he found his lip curling in return as he took the bottle. “Don’t push it.” He drank, and kept drinking. The cool water was unbelievably soothing to his sore throat. He drained the bottle and grabbed the first one, downing half of it before freezing with it still at his lips.

“Relax, okay?” His eyes darted to their face, startled to find a sympathetic frown. “I promise, it’s as wholesome as water stolen from struggling communities by billionaires can be.” His narrowed eyes received a shrug. “What? Wouldn’t be fair to lie to you.” He grunted and finished the bottle.

“You’re really weird, you know that?”

“Mutants tend to be.”

Bucky sat and watched, rolling the empty bottle between his palms, while his… intruder? Visitor? Neighbour? Pulled over the box and rummaged inside it, ignoring or not seeing the way he tensed.

“What’s that?”

“Huh?” They glanced up, blinking. Was it possible that they’d actually forgotten he was there in the last twenty seconds? It sure seemed like it. He nodded at the box. “Oh, just kind of a care package I put together. Meant to leave it outside your door but then you sounded like you were dying so I figured a get well card and a blanket might not do the trick. ‘S not much. Food, meds such as I could find, blanket – but you’ve got that already. Getting it down that climb with my face covered to keep the fibres out was hard enough without packing it any heavier, but there’s some more stuff over in the other apartment.”

He looked over at where he’d been lying, and stared in surprise. They were still in his hallway where he had passed out. He remembered dimly the pounding at the door, amplified by fear and disorientation, which must have been their knocking. His sleeping bag hadn’t been here then. Nor had his pillow or the unfamiliar sleeping bag stacked underneath his own. And there was the blanket, lying where he must have thrown it off when he woke up… and attacked them, he reminded himself with an internal wince.

“You did all that?”

“Yeah. Would have put you in your bedroom, but ran into that whole ‘Vibranium is heavy’ issue again so I made you a bed out here instead. Won’t be offended if you want to move back. You can borrow my sleeping bag. Oh, and I redid the bandage on your arm but the bleeding had stopped already, even where you scratched it up. You knocked a few chunks out of yourself. I cleaned the wounds and tied them up. Some of them looked like they could use stitches but I’m thinking you don’t really bother with those and I don’t know how to do them. I could probably figure it out with a video tutorial though if, y’know, you want me to try.” They kept talking as they looked through the box, peering at things as though it had been so long since they’d seen them that they were almost unrecognisable. It was a curious sight. “Wasn’t sure if you’d be able to cook in here so most of this is about as edible cold…” They were chattering away as if he hadn’t been holding a gun to their head a minute earlier. The effect was almost soothing. Where was that accent from? Not pure American as far as he could tell. Maybe British with some American or Canadian layered on top? There was something else too – something that spoke to his memories of warmth and spiced air. He was only half taking in the words and it was his turn to realise late that he’d been spoken to.

“Uh… huh?”

They grinned. “Sandwiches. Just cheese. Nothing fancy. I don’t do cooking. Probably a good idea to eat something. Might cushion the little spiky glass bits.” They shrugged. “My mother always freaked out about me going anywhere near our fibreglass insulation. I always figured she was overreacting but you look like shit so maybe not.”

“You go all out with the compliments, don’t you?” He bit into a cheese sandwich. They were right – it was nothing fancy, but it was food and it started to help with his painful, feverish exhaustion at once.

“Pretty much,” they admitted with a shrug.

Bucky was about to reply when a fresh storm of coughs overtook him, filling the air with crumbs. They leant back out of the way, lowering their own sandwich, apparently no longer so keen on it.

“That’ll probably happen for a while. You got a pretty good lungful, I guess.”

“’M not supposed to get sick,” he growled.

“You’re not technically-”

“Or injured.”

“Unless whatever they did to you gave you lungs that can dissolve glass, I doubt being a super soldier’s gonna help much with this. Might even be worse. If you can’t get sick, I’m thinking it’s because your body attacks anything that invades it particularly quickly and effectively, so it’s probably throwing a fit about a billion little fibres getting where they shouldn’t and I’m probably not really helping, am I?”

“Your bedside manner really sucks,” he grumbled. The complaint was half-hearted, though. Something had happened to their expression while they were spinning their theory. The gentle coffee-dark eyes had sharpened. The detached enthusiasm had become… uncomfortable. He’d seen too many expressions like that before, usually smiling above him while he was strapped to a table, full of glee over their latest pages of results. His fist curled and he touched his pistol. The movement attracted no attention at all. They’d found a scrap of ancient wallpaper –but still not ancient enough for him to remember it – and started picking at it as though its presence offended them, nails digging fretfully under its edges.

“Planning on building a nest with that?”

They froze and looked vacant for a second. He got the impression they were replaying the last few seconds to work out what he was talking about. In spite of the way his previous observation had jacked up his heart rate, it was a challenge to be afraid of someone who seemed to have so much difficulty just keeping track of existence from one minute to the next. And they’d brought him food and a blanket, he reminded himself. His lips softened into a small smile.

“Uh, sorry, hope that wasn’t sentimental.” They licked a fingertip and attempted to damp the paper back down. “There was a texture.” The explanation ended there.

“A… texture?”

Their eyebrows rose as though his puzzlement was incomprehensible. “Things that should be smooth shouldn’t have textures.” They said it the way someone else might say “tumours”. They gave a little shrug and didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s harder to ignore – tolerate – them when I’m nervous. Really weird, like you said.” He thought he saw a tiny wince. “Sorry, I’ll go back to the other apartment. You should be resting, not suffering through a lecture on the ways my brain is wrong.”

They started to dust themself off and get up. This time the wince was unmistakable. They tried to disguise the awkward movement with a stretch but his eyes tracked the tenderness in their shoulder with ease. He recalled the sound of them colliding with the wall when he’d thrown them off and his stomach churned with a momentary surge of guilt.

“There are painkillers in the box. Oh, and antihistamine cream. If your skin’s too uncomfortable to sleep, it might… And try to rinse your skin again in the morning. Just keep washing the fibres off. Not sure what to do for the lungs but hopefully that’ll be better tomorrow too. If you need anything, I’ll be across the hall.” They offered an awkward smile and took a step towards the door.

“Wait.” He was surprised to hear the word come from his mouth. “Not sure I want you getting up to fuck knows what out of sight over there.” His grin turned out as awkward as their exit. “You can stay. Here.” He cut off their attempted protest. “I’d like you to stay. Y’know, tonight, at least.”

He started to set his gun down, then went to the window to scan the street. The streetlights were on now. The only passers-by seemed natural and uninterested enough. “Just how sure are you that no one’s going to come looking for you here?” He put his back to the window and tried to resist the urge to look again.

“Well, I guess I can’t be a hundred percent certain but I think if they had any idea where I am they’d have come for me before now.” They curled tighter into the corner and Bucky almost laughed when he saw them shoot the window a glance almost identical to his own.

In the moment of strange kinship, he was moved to voice something he’d been wondering about. “You know who I am. You didn’t just stumble onto a guy with a potential safe house.”

They paused, and shrugged. “Well, no, I was looking for you. Got pretty lucky finding you though. Not a lot of guys with metal arms around but there are a lot of people in this city. Then I found you and had to watch for a while to make sure my instincts were right about you. That you’d understand why I needed somewhere to go. That makes me sound like a total stalker… It’s not a weird creepy obsession or anything. I just… heard about you, y’know, and-”

“So you know who I am, the things I’ve done, and you still decided to throw yourself on my mercy?”

He’d expected them to fidget uncomfortably, maybe refuse to meet his eyes. In fact, their gaze locked onto his like a magnet.

“Someone who looked a lot like you did those things. Not you.”

He stiffened. “It was me. A… part of me.” He’d never admitted that, even to Stevie. Why was he doing it now? He wished he could bite the words back, but they seemed unfazed by his confession or his regret.

“Was that part of you given a choice?”

The words stuck on his tongue, tangled in themselves. “We… I could have died myself. Rather than hurt anyone else. Most people would say I should have done.”

Their snort chilled him and he narrowed his eyes. They were just as unmoved by the increased hostility. “Most people don’t choose to die. Not when they’re actually confronted with the choice. So “most people” can take a running jump with their opinions about what any of you should have done. They don’t know what they’re fucking talking about.” He spotted that their hand was knotted into their hoodie so tight that their knuckles showed up pale in the dim light. “And for my part, I doubt it was even an option. Unless you can honestly tell me Hydra didn’t make really damn sure they fucked up your head before they gave you the kind of freedom it takes to kill yourself.”

Bucky could only stare as the words went through him like a laser, leaving a searing path behind them. Something was ready to take advantage of the quiet. It crawled into the ringing silence in his head.

You’d just love to believe that, wouldn’t you, little boy? “Boohoo, poor me. The mean nasty men hurt my feelings and that’s why I tortured and raped and murdered all those people.” It’s a fairy tale, little boy. A pretty lie to manipulate you into letting them stay. We chose you for a reason, asset. We saw the monster in you and leashed it. We didn’t make the monster.

“James?” The name came as such a surprise that it momentarily shocked him out of the guilty hell he’d been descending into. “James… you okay?”

“Don’t.” He gradually got his words back under control and the hysterical note out of his voice. “I – don’t. Don’t call me that.” He forced something like a smile. “I only get ‘James’ when I’m in trouble. I guess you can call me Bucky.”

They nodded, their own smile much more genuine than he had managed. “Bucky, then.” He was fascinated by their ability to look at him so calmly, with no detectable fear or contempt, yet he found himself still wanting to escape their gaze. He felt too seen by those eyes. Like they understood even more than they’d described with such stark and cutting accuracy. He backed up and turned away from them, crouching to straighten his bedding.

“Guess we do have some stuff in common, after all… You know, don’t you?”

“I don’t. Not what they did to you. But I know something about the lengths people like that will go to, to design the sort of operatives they need. And after they put in all that time and effort, they don’t get careless enough to let valuable assets kill themselves.”

The word caused bile to rise in his throat and he whipped around. Could they know? Could they hear? But they’d turned back to their corner, rearranging their blanket and trying to make themself comfortable.

“You can take your sleeping bag back. I’ll be fine with my own.” They waved him off.

“Hang onto it tonight. It’ll help with my guilt. It’s my fault you got all paranoid and trap-happy.” He watched them lean their head on the wall.

He wanted to tell them to at least take the pillow or something, but he had a premonition of how much good that would do. He stood, thinking, for a moment. Then he scooped up the blanket and threw it over them. He crouched to tuck it in, meeting their look of protest with immovable steadiness. And somehow he found himself looking into soft brown eyes a little too long.

“Night,” he muttered, retreating.

No, the voice growled as he contemplated the stacked sleeping bags. Soft. Weak. He glanced back into the corner. Their eyes were closed but they had no talent for faking the rhythmic breath of true sleep. He toed off his boots and climbed into his bag. It was difficult to see them through the shadows but he heard their breathing resume a more natural tempo. When had he last shared his sleeping space voluntarily? He was tempted to think it had been more than eighty years ago, before he’d shipped out. Back when he’d imagined he’d have some control over the course of his life.

And what would you have made of your life on your own? Another groupie for the star-spangled government lapdog? I made you so much more. And this is how you show your gratitude.

The yawning darkness at Bucky’s back reached out for him. Its fingers caressed his spine. He felt himself shaking, his throat closing…

“Hey, Bucky?” The invisible fingers retracted a little way into the dark.

“What?”

“Thanks. For letting me stay.”

How sweet that your new little friend thinks they’re any safer in a room with you than literally anywhere else. Even after your opening pleasantries featured you practically crushing their throat. You must have seen the bruises. I can hear them struggling to breathe from here.

“Y’welcome.” It wasn’t much but for just a moment it interrupted the voice; he searched for more words, desperate to keep it at bay, and to stop himself straining at the quiet to measure their breathing. His eyes locked onto the vague shape on the other side of the hall. “I never asked your name.”

A moment’s thoughtful quiet then a shuffling of blanket. He caught a glint of streetlight reflected in their eyes as they turned their face towards him. “Hive. Call me Hive.”

Note: Our Hive has nothing to do with the Hive who appears in Agents of SHIELD, just a coincidence that they ended up with the same name.

Thanks for reading! Every like and reblog is appreciated and treasured. Feed my need for external validation!

#written by Bug #actual writing #fanfiction #fandom: Marvel #Bucky Barnes #Rating: T #fandomfreebingo #choking #voice of an abuser #hearing voices #gun threat #blood #violence #whump #comfort #caretaker #winterwonderlandbingo #seasonaldelightsbingo #afangstbingo #anyfandomangstbingo #fluffbruary 2024 #fluffbruary