#p: steve rogers (shieldworn)

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@shieldworn​ || inbox temporarily closed || catch up!

[check up] your muse checks up on my muse to make sure they're okay

Fingertips scratch at the hair on the back of his head. It’s damp from the bathwater he’s been sitting in so long he’s had to refill it to get rid of the cold. (To this day he can’t stand being in cold water. Or cold in general. It bothers him enough that it feels like the cold’s reaching his bones but he tries to pass it off like it’s nothing.) The battle is over. It’s been won and those that turned to ash are back in the flesh. He among them.

It didn’t take them long to leave once the dust was settled and they made sure the others were okay. Well. As okay as anyone can be after that. The hollow space in their chests of watching him fall’s settled in for the long haul. A wet palm strokes over his face when the image of Tony passes through his memory. Bucky burrows his brows and tucks his chin down. Wet hair falls to frame his face. 

Mixed emotions flood in constantly. They have since he let them rush in. No time on the field of battle to feel what he’s feeling now. No time spent in Steve’s arms the second the door to the small house in the middle of nowhere shut and they practically fell into one another. Five years will do that to you. Five years where one remembers and the other doesn’t. It’s their modus operandi. Has been for decades. No matter how fucking UNFAIR any of the bullshit is.

The door opens, he doesn’t move. There’s a dry hand on his back and he deflates with the gentle, loving touch of the one gazing down at him with such a look of love and concern written on his features. Blue eyes reflect nothing but worry as he meets them. He knows his are red-brimmed and on the verge of tears. Bucky shrugs. The gesture more of an answer than words can say. His throat’s too tight to get any out. Without hesitation, he leans in and rests his head against the outside of Steve’s thigh resting on the edge of the tub.

“Yeah,” his voice cracks, “M’okay..”

#chapter two: til the end of the line (shieldworn) #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn #ouchies okay hi ily

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@shieldworn​ || a meme from here! || accepting!

28. for sex against the wall

They were the first ones to bow out of the meeting, leaving the rest of their friends and allies behind, and head back towards the room they were sharing. Only they didn’t make it that far. Barely past a closet on the opposite side of the meeting room wall, Bucky felt Steve’s hand curl around his wrist. Flesh met flesh and blue eyes squinted curiously. He went as he was pulled. Into the closet where the door was nudged shut by Steve’s shoe and Bucky’s back was against the wall in a matter of seconds.

Steve’s mouth claimed his before a single question could be asked. Hungry enough it was like they’d gone months without touching one another. Let alone a few hours. Whatever he’d done to deserve this? To rile him up? (There were touches underneath the table. Always right before Steve was about to speak. Always just to watch knowing he was struggling and why.) He’d make a mental note just how well it worked later. 

Because right now, his brain was short circuiting as his belt was tugged loose. His pants damn near lost their button from being opened so quickly and his zipper was down before he could part his lips for a gasp. And, god, did he when fingers slinked between the two layers of fabric separating Steve’s hand from his skin and wrapped around him stroking bold and brazen.

Fingers clenched at the wall behind them at first. Unable to do much but sink in the moment where Steve’s resolve broke in the best sort of ways, Bucky groaned as the hand upon him picked up pace and he heard Steve’s belt jingle against itself as he unfastened it and went to work on his own pants. One handed. Because the noise that left Bucky’s mouth came muffled against the inside of a palm carefully covering it. Fuck. Brows pinch together and he lets out the heavy noise he’d been holding in against hot skin.

They weren’t going to make it out of this room.

#chapter two: til the end of the line (shieldworn) #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn #oooooooooh sexy #:D #tw ooh la la

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@shieldworn​ || a meme from here but it’s hot and i’m lazy || accepting!

07 .   a  kiss  to  say  what  you  can’t  say  aloud .

There’s quiet moments where everything seems to make sense. Like all the terrible things that life’s thrown at you are, somehow, worthwhile because they’ve all lead you to this point. They can be plenty at one time. Scarce at others. And the latter leaves you lonely and empty in between having that peacefulness and not.

The day keeps creeping closer where he knows he’s going to have to tell Steve he’s been told to be on alert. That there’s gonna be a letter in the mail sooner rather than later. Both of them know that it’s bound to happen. When men who didn’t volunteer for service like he did and Steve wishes he could are being pulled into war? Those who haven’t left that are ready and waiting? Or so they say waiting. No one’s waiting to go to war. Except, maybe, Steve Rogers. Anyway--the day is coming where he’s gonna get pulled across the ocean to walk and fight in the same bloodied bootsteps as the men who’ve already gone, fought, died, or worse in some cases.

And, yet, today is one of those days. Where everything is perfect and the sun is glistening off Steve’s blond hair like a halo and be damned if he’s not the only human on the planet that Bucky can think deserves one. An arm slings around slender shoulders. Pulls Steve in and as they sit on the edge of the dock alone cause all the ships have yet to start piling in? I love you and I don’t want to go is on the tip of his tongue. He can’t say it.

But it’s THERE.

Instead, he quickly smiles. Steals a glance to the left, right. No one in sight. And lips brush against the top of Steve’s head. (He wishes it was somewhere else. His jaw. His neck. Lips.) Cause anywhere else would say too much. His nose lingers in those soft, sun-kissed strands of hair for a moment though. The gesture saying buckets. Cause what kinda friends do that?

“Thanks for comin’ with me to watch the sun come up. Coulda told me to go to hell since I woke ya up. I’m glad ya didn’t..”

#chapter two: til the end of the line (shieldworn) #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn #oh look i made it angsty. #oh BAD ME BAD #:P

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@shieldworn​ || a meme from here || not accepting memes atm! catch up!

25 .   a  kiss  on  the  fingertips .

They fall against his knees gently. Barely a touch that lures him to look up and meet the shadowed blue eyes staring into his with such concern written across their vibrant, even in the dark, shades. Steve’s fingers graze over his kneecaps and he leans in to rest his forehead against Bucky’s. No matter how sweaty it is. 

And right now..there’s a thin sheen of wet covering the entire thing. Enough that bits of his bangs were stuck to it before some of Steve’s, undoubtedly, are now. That covering doesn’t stop there, though. It’s on his shoulders. Neck. Down his back and over his chest. That just moments ago was panting heavily and has only just begun to slow.

Steve found him on the floor again...

The love of his life knows why, too. They’ve talked about this. Discussed it with the therapist that’s assigned to him. Same one that the couple swears was secretly assigned to Steve, too. Since he’s encouraged to go to as many sessions with Bucky as he can. Which is all of them. Or Bucky would only be showing up because it’s court mandated and all he wants to do is leave.

Always. Waking up like this, being found like he is. Always happens the day before and, sometimes, they day after an appointment. Bucky’s not convinced they’re necessarily a good thing if they leave him like this. But he’s been told to hang in there. To work through the thoughts bringing the nightmares out of him. Maybe it’s a good idea to listen. But he hates this and, God, he trusts him to his bones but---please don’t let it get to be too much.

That’s when he senses his arm being lifted. Lips begin to press themselves against cold metal and Bucky’s wind’s kicked out of him in a good way. Simply seeing Steve kissing fingers capable of so much destruction (and rebuilding, he’s gotta remember that...and REBUILDING) turns his insides warm and softens his gaze..

“...Do you know how much I love you,” he asks with a hushed whisper, “Before you answer? You’re wrong. It’s more than that.”

#chapter three: after the smoke clears we all got battle scars (aftermath) #boyo #i love them. #do u know this? #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn

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@shieldworn​ || a meme from here || accepting!

missing piece. falling asleep somewhere that isn’t their bed. +  armor. falling in and out of a restless sleep. feeling safe when a loved one presses a kiss to their forehead and strokes their hair. (i see smth in my head that both inspired!)

There’s nothing that can wipe the sensation of a life slipping away underneath the grip of your hand. Flesh or metal. There’s no difference. Only the feeling of muscles straining. Of gasps for air that just won’t come that make those muscles constrict and expand frantically. Like a fish laying on a dock trying, for all it’s misplaced might, to live one more second. Instinct takes over. The body does what it tells itself it needs to in order to live. To survive losing air, losing light, losing everything as it drains slowly into...

..nothing.

The heaviness of a body falling against the floor. Crumpled and broken. Abandoned and DEAD. He touches a shoulder with the tip of a muddied boot. Never once did he truly notice the face. There’s a string of corpses in his wake. A wave of death created in front of him leaves a flood of bodies behind. Broad shoulders budge, the body rolls onto it’s back..

Steve. Panic rises up in his chest. Fingers begin to twitch and claw at his thighs. What has he done? What did he do? He turns away, looks behind himself. Anywhere but the dead blue eyes staring up into nothing, unseeing and dull. Every. Single. Body. He’s left behind is Steve. Steve. STEVE. Steve with bullet wounds. Steve with his neck twisted in inhuman positions. Steve broken apart with his limbs like matchsticks. Steve bleeding out the last drops he’s been left with. It’s all STEVE.

Bucky chokes on the scream that, finally, bursts free in his and Steve’s room. He’s on the floor and there are fingers in his hair seconds later. Lips on his forehead and then arms coiling around his torso lifting him up until his feet leave the ground and the bed practically swallows him whole. 

“I’m sorry..,” he apologizes with a voice so tattered--he must have been swallowing yelps and howls for a while now, “I’m.. Sorry...”

#chapter two: til the end of the line (shieldworn) #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn #i'm not OKAAAAAAAAAAAAY #fatws spoilers #kinda

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@shieldworn​ || birthday shenanigans for steve! || continuation

As he’s pulled in and snuggled up to, Bucky manages to tangle their legs together and bring Steve in even tighter. There’s no getting away now. (Not that there would’ve been an attempt. By the looks of it? Steve is quite content where he is.) Nuzzling up into the kiss and nudging the tip of his nose against Steve’s jawline, he can’t stop himself from smiling. Contentment warm in his chest. They deserve every second of moments like this.

Every. Damn. Second.

Fingers drift lazily up the length of Steve’s chest to curl against the hairline along the back of his neck. Feathery blond at his disposal to play and fidget with. Blue eyes squint towards the man he’s sworn his life to. Deeper than that really. But his life’s a good start. “Me too,” he hums in agreement, “Breakfast can wait, though. I don’t want to move.”

Unless it’s to press his lips against the point in Steve’s neck where his Adam’s apple is. Then ghost them along the dip just near his clavicle. He stays there, grinning against his skin before lips begin to drift lower and legs hold a little less tight. Another peck and this nose nudge against the center of his chest’s got enough pressure to gesture for Steve to roll onto his back.

“Okay. Mighta lied a little on the moving thing..”

#chapter two: til the end of the line (shieldworn) #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn #he's a mess but he loves you steve. #happy bday.

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@shieldworn​ || random inbox pain || even before i finished one cup of coffee!

this time has felt different, and even as the last waves of pleasure curl through his spine, he's wrapping fingers in bucky's hair, eyes wrenching closed and emotion pouring through him so hot and hard and fast he can't rein it in. It punches the air from his lungs, makes him gasp ragged with the heat of it. " I watched you die, " he says, and it's so —— sudden. " I watched you die and I couldn't do anything about it. "

Bucky moves with him, head back against the pillow and spine curved as he, too, rides out the last of his high. One leg draped across Steve’s back while the other has a set of toes curled into the mattress. He holds onto the others shoulder while the other hand made of metal grips the headboard. He sees nothing but stars until he falls flat onto the sheets, lungs heaving for each breath he can get, and turns his attention up to Steve.

What he sees has his stomach bottoming out..

That emotion in his eyes before fingers are buried into his hair and those same eyes squeeze shut. “Steve,” he asks and his voice is a raw and ragged whisper from the sounds he’d been just making to now a wary concern that makes him wonder what happened?

What he hears kicks him square in the stomach. His arm slinks around broad shoulders to pull Steve down on top of him immediately, arm bent between his shoulder blades the second he lands. “I’m sorry. Steve.” It’s not fair. How they were torn apart the way they were. So soon after finding one another. And it’s a sickening pattern he swears to GOD he’ll do anything to never let happen again. No matter what. His eyes burn and fill with tears. “I’m so sorry.”

#chapter two: til the end of the line (shieldworn) #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn #i thought you liked me

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@shieldworn​ || oh them naughty memes || selectively accepting!

“i want you to touch yourself for me.”

There’s a benefit to a night off. Where an inn was close enough by that they could steal away there for the night. Under the excuse that they didn’t feel like wandering back to barracks hellishly drunk and looking at the same mugs on their one day off. No one thought anything of it. Or. If they did (which both of them had suspicions those closest to them had an idea but kept it quiet) they said nothing and simply let them BE.

They haven’t left the room since an hour past dinner. Splurging on a bottle of scotch to make it look like they were intent upon getting drunk in quiet company, they’d gone upstairs to their room. Locked the door. And left most of the lights off. Except a couple oil lamps that are lighting the room in a flickering orange that makes Steve’s skin glow like he’s not made of this Earth. Then again? He isn’t anymore, is he? He’s made of it and so much more. Kinda always has been in Bucky’s book, though.

There’s a sheen of sweat on his bare chest. A few dark marks where Bucky’s mouth latched on and refused to let go until he received a pitch of a moan he was desperate to hear. There’d be private, offtime showers when Steve could squeeze them in for a few days. That’s for damn sure. Not that Steve seems to mind. There’s a hungry look in his eyes as he pulls up from Bucky’s body. Skin sliding against skin until there’s cool air ghosting over the heat radiating from them both. It sends goosebumps up Bucky’s parted calves, his sides--across his belly. He squirms with the sensation. But, also, in protest of the sudden absence of Steve on top of him.

Rather--he’s standing at the foot of the bed. Hard and wanting with darkened blue eyes and a slowly spreading smirk on his mouth. Bucky’s brows shove together. Confusion. Curiosity. All thee above. When he hears it, he feels like the wind’s been kicked out of him in the best sorta way possible. ‘I want you to touch yourself for me.’ Steve’s voice and the request only add to the shivers. A stark contrast to the heat the pools in his belly underneath that observant stare.

He nods against the pillow, his length responding to the words with a twitch as inner thigh muscles clench. Lips part--but the words he had on the tip of his tongue are lost as his fingers ghost down over the plane of his belly. There’s a flush of heat over the bridge of his nose that bleeds into his cheeks as fingers wrap around the stiff length of him. His neck cranes against the pillow, eyes rolling back as a gasp of a moan snaps his jaw open. “Steve,” it dissolves into a whine of pleasure as he begins to stroke. Careful and slow at first as his shoulders fall back to the bed and he looks up into Steve’s eyes from beneath burrowed brows fist beginning to move more as his body demands it to the second the eye contact is made.

#chapter two: til the end of the line (shieldworn) #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn #tw ooh la la #a lot

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@shieldworn​ || there’s a meme in this but chromebook || accepting!

“I thought maybe we would kiss tonight.” / he says, a little smug and a lot playful

They’re back in the little library that Bucky found. Their hideaway from everyone else. Surprisingly, they’ve been in the same spot for more than a couple weeks now. And he’s taken advantage of every second of downtime to steal Steve away from the crowd. Gets hard sometimes. There’s always someone that wants to talk to him. Needs to give him some sort of briefing. Whatever. He’d be lying if he said he hasn’t wished they’d just BACK OFF him a little bit, but that’s simply time that they spent apart.

..and the fact there were so many moments back there where he thought he’d never get to see him again. That he’d break his promise and not make it home. God, no one can blame him for wanting Steve to himself now that he’s got him. Not after that. Not after what he went through. 

That he still hasn’t talked completely about..

Steve pulls a grin from him as he steps in close. Both sets of fingers loop through Steve’s belt and tug him the rest of the way in. Both their eyes are sparking up. Moments like this? Whatever he’s been through from Point A to Point B doesn’t matter as much. Doesn’t feel like it might swallow him up. Cause Steve’s teasing him and there’s a smug familiarity to the way he taunts at him they barely have gotten a chance to fully explore yet. All Bucky knows is he likes it.

“Oh yeah,” he plays back, “You did? Guess you’re gonna have to show me then.” And up creeps a brow. Yeah, Steve. Show me.

#chapter two: til the end of the line (shieldworn) #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn #nerds #also new icons! #had to tweak the coloring a bit!

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@shieldworn​ || plotted starter || christmas time!

The first Christmas they’ve both managed not to have anywhere to be. Thanks to the snow pouring down in loads outside the windows. A deep freeze brought a truckload of the puffy white stuff and blistering cold. They’d have each other for Christmas this year. Having spent the night before with Steve’s mom and him, Bucky invited the other back to his apartment and they made the trek scoffing at the idea that the weather the next day was going to be that bad. Turns out? It was. 

And now? With warm hot cocoa and the dishes from a makeshift Christmas dinner stacked in the sink, Bucky pulls back the blanket hanging in front of a pesky window with a sliver of the wood missing from it’s corner. Little bit of newspaper stuffed in and the temperamental frame was handled by covering it up to ward off the cold from coming inside. The heater clicks in the background in protest. Doesn’t matter. It’s a sight to see. The streets are damn near close to empty. Lights twinkle in the dark. A layer of white makes everything seem so serene. Quiet. 

“C’mere..”

A small smile over his shoulder to the guy on the couch. Blue gaze flicks back and forth over Steve’s features. He gestures towards the scene with a click of his tongue against the back of his teeth and a slow, easy going back and forth shake of his head. “Looks cold as hell out there. But, wow, what a sight. Don’t want you missin’ out.”

#chapter two: til the end of the line (shieldworn) #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn #C H R I S T M A S

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Quiet night.

All he can hear is the wind blowing across the metal roof of the cabin that he and Thor had been staying with Steve. The thunderer had been drawn off. Attention needed for the kingdom that relied on him regardless of his station. He’d return soon enough. Until then? It was the two of them and this early fall storm that rolled over them in a downpour of rain and wind. Bucky closed his eyes and listened to the first pick up of drizzle plinking down against the tin above their heads.

Steve’s head was in his lap. He’s not sure when it got there. A part of who they were from years and years ago that made the action as natural as breathing. His sketch pad was in his hands and the light scratch of pencil against paper came like an echo to the sounds the soldier felt himself drifting away on. And he let it. 

Fingers made of flesh and bone feathered through the softness of Steve’s hair while his own head rested back against the sofa. Positioned just right that the loose bun at the back of his head wasn’t uncomfortable. The scratching stopped. He didn’t bother lifting his head or opening his eyes yet. Steve paused in what he was doing and it made Bucky curious.

Dark brows burrowed in wonder. “Why’d you stop?” Blue gaze finally greets the ceiling before peeking down at Steve. One remains cocked up questioningly when their eyes meet. His toying pauses, embedded in the cool to the touch strands of Steve’s hair. “Everything alright?”

@shieldworn​ || plotted starter -- oh boy. here we goooo!

#verse pending: shieldworn and thunderbringer #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn

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“Look, I know we can’t keep it.” It’s swirling snow outside, though, and the little lanky puppy is shivering even inside his jacket. “But I wasn’t going to leave it on the street. Just for a couple nights?”

@shieldworn || random inbox CUTE! || always accepting!

Must. Resist. 

Both Steve and the puppy he has snuggled up inside his threadbare, too big jacket. New York City is freezing. Has been for days. But tonight? It has to be the worst. And, as much as his belly squeezes in his effort to resist? The gnawing guilt that that small thing would be out in the cold sleeping next to a dumpster to keep warm? Has all his resolve melting away..

..Not to mention, the dog would be out in the cold, too. 

(Cause, face it, Steve wouldn’t let that thing freeze to death. He’d find a way to spend a night under an overhang if he had to.)

With a long, caving in sigh? His chin ducks down and one hand lifts to scratch the back of his head. Resignation. Big time. Especially with four round eyes staring up at him. Shit. He never had a chance. “I guess I can cook a little more for supper. I’m sure we can find a way--you know. For a COUPLE nights.”

#chapter two: til the end of the line (shieldworn) #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn #oh. my. god.

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@shieldworn​ || an ohh la la meme! ||  22. for sex after a near death experience

There’s no hesitation this time. No healing that needs to happen before he can open himself up to this possibility. No mind spinning with so many thoughts that he disconnects from everything and every one for days. No strings of days to work through the mess that’d been made of them again. Not now. Not after the battle where they’d lost so many of their numbers. A price, it seemed, they had to pay for so many of them that came back.

They’ve barely made it off the battlefield and managed to clean up. Only Steve has. In their small room inside a ship that was nursing the wounded and preparing to take them back to wherever home was going to be. But? There’s been smaller places they’ve done this. Reconnected in a way that is only for them. Least this one has four walls and a bed that’s comfortable. One they haven’t made it to..

..Yet.

Trembling fingers grip Steve’s shirt and pull it up over broad shoulders. One stays, resting carefully on light skin. A hand crafted of the flesh he was born with rather than given via metal quickly cups a bearded cheek and pulls Steve in. How their mouths meet says it all. Eagerness boiled over from an I lost you for so long relief soothes aching hearts and has Bucky’s knees damn near close to liquid as he parts Steve’s lips with his tongue and dips it inside the warmth of his mouth for a taste he needs.

Soon as it fills his mouth, he’s groaning against Steve’s tongue. Both hands fall then. Popping a pants button and unzipping a zipper is done blindly. Bucky breaks the kiss but keeps their mouths touching so Steve can feel him breathe the words, “I need to taste you. Feel you. I need to.” And it’s polished off with an aching, heady moan once he’s freed him from his pants and those fingers wrap themselves around his thick length.

“God. Steve,” he can feel him hardening as he strokes. Once. Twice. His heartbeat is hammering against his chest. Thundering in his ears. Fire bleeds through his veins and he doesn’t hesitate to fall to his knees glancing from how his hand has begun slow, teasing strokes and back up the tall length of Steve’s frame to the eyes he knows will be waiting for him. The tip of his tongue peeks out between his lips, flicking against Steve’s curved tip. The burrow of his brows says it all. Give it to me.

#chapter two: til the end of the line (shieldworn) #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #w e L P! #tw ooh la la #lots and bunches #bless

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combs fingers through bucky's hair idly, then curls his fingers and leans in and kisses his throat with a pleased little hum.

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Bucky’s head tilts back, lips parted as a quiet--almost muted--groan chases after Steve’s hum. Chills rattle their way down his spine before bursting into a warm rush that floods his veins. Steve knows perfectly well what he is doing. And the fluttering of long eyelashes before Bucky’s brows shove together is yet another sign that it is working.

Very much..

Can’t blame him for reaching up and doing the same, though. Fingers tether into dirty blond strands and give a tug. If for no other reason than to press Steve’s mouth back against that spot on his throat again. Why? 

Cause he’s not done yet.

#you are guilty of being a shit steve #but a good shit #xoxo #p: steve rogers (shieldworn) #shieldworn