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fushic0re · 1 year

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⸺ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄

𝟰𝟬𝘀!𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗩𝗘 𝗥𝗢𝗚𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝘅 𝗙𝗜𝗟𝗜𝗣𝗜𝗡𝗔!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 — thanks to the super soldier serum, steve gets to appreciate your body in a way he never had before.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — 18+ ONLY; MDNI. porn without plot. smut: penetrative sex, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, creampie, copious amounts of cum bc i’m disgusting, pussy drunk steve.

꒰ ͜͡➸ 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘, 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆! 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒❜ 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 & 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑! ♡

PUFFS OF AIR TICKLED your ear as sharp exhales left your lover’s body.

You too felt as if the oxygen had been drawn outside of your tiny little room in your shared Brooklyn apartment. You were lightheaded as Steve vigorously thrusted in and out of your cunt, the newfound heaviness from him and the heat radiating from his body still an unfamiliar furor to you. His hands were significantly bigger and meatier, able to engulf both of your wrists in one and pin them above your head. His chest was broader and fuller, the wall of muscle fiercely protecting the thumping heart that lay beneath it. His legs were longer and robust, never faltering despite the immense pleasure he felt while he was inside of you. And those arms. The arms that held you every night were large and burly. Nonetheless, they were feelings you welcomed with

He was still your Steve.

You knew he was when he removed his dewy face from the crook of your neck and stared right through your soul with those crystalline eyes. He gazed at you like a man seeing the sun for the first time. And perhaps he was. With his newfangled heightened senses, Steve could now view your beauty without interference. You resembled Aphrodite reincarnated as you lay underneath him, features twisted into an expression of pure ecstasy. Your skin glowed in the candle light exquisitely, the tiny beads of sweat resembling tiny crystals shimmering against you. You were something straight out of a renaissance painting. Only no one else would see you like this, needy and wanton. Just him.

Like a shark sniffing out blood in the ocean, all rational parts of his brain shut down as his nose picked up the barest waft of your arousal. His jaw clenched as his pupils dilated. Steve’s clear-water ocean blues now donned a deeper shade, the kind of blue that made you fear what lurked below the undiscovered waters.

“Fuck,” Steve groaned, his eyes involuntarily rolling to the back of his skull as your velvety walls squeezed his member when the tip of it hit a particular spot within you. “Fuck, sweetheart, I can smell you.”

A part of you felt embarrassed for a brief moment, the overly self-conscious part of you snapping you out of your trance. But then you looked up and were met with the sight of the love of your life plowing into you anomalistically, looking the most feral you had ever seen the golden boy look through the entirety of you knowing him. His gilded locks were a mess, pieces sticking to his sweat covered forehead. His head was slightly bowed, shoulders hunched as he slowly began to lose control.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” Steve whispered. “I didn’t think you could even feel any better—”

Releasing your hands from his vice grip, he grabbed hold of your hips for purchase. You could feel your delicate skin bruising under the pads of his fingers. Your Steve was not fully cognizant of his strength quite yet, you knew he could never leave a single mark on your body unless you begged for it. Yet, you cared not. His ferociousness was unleashing something within you. You liked watching him lose control in his new body of his that defied limitations. You were experiencing all of these newfound sensations right alongside him.

Your body jerked violently against the bed from the force behind each impel. With a sharp gasp followed by a string of pornographic, staccato cries, you outstretched your arms to pull him to you. Your vermillion varnished nails sunk into the meat of his back as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Look at me, Stevie,” You begged, swollen lips brushing against his. “Please.”

As if he was under your spell, his eyes snapped open to meet yours. A small whimper escaped his lips, his eyes falling shut for just a split second before he forced them open again, unable to look away from you for the life of him.

“I can see you,” He breathed in awe, eyed widening. “Holy shit, I can really see you.” His gaze trailed your body before finding its way back up to your face. “You’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart. The prettiest thing I have ever seen. Look how well you take me.”

It was your turn to whimper, his honeyed praises and the precision of his thrusts a deadly combination. Steve was right there with you. His nerves felt like they were on fire in the best way possible. Every vein on his cock was hypersensitive, highly receptive to every drag against your walls. He crashed his lips against yours as he lost control, shooting his load inside of you. Your own reverie hit you like a bus the second the first rope of cum painted your cavern. You mewled into his mouth, embracing him tightly as you felt his large body tremble. His moans turned into deep, guttural growls as he fucked his spent into you. Steve’s body fell forward weakly, his muscles turning into jelly as your pussy twitched around him.

With another growl and wave of trembles, he came once more. He sloppily continued to pump himself in and out of you, creating a mess where you were adjoined.

"Stevie,” You murmured, pressing kisses against his shoulders, chest, and neck as he came down from his high.

He went completely lax against you, resting his head on your chest as he wrapped his arms around you. With an ear flushed against your bosom, he listened to the sound of your heart with a clarity he never thought was possible. It was his new favorite song. Once its rampant pounding reached a ritardando, he lifted his head. His own heart swelled as he admired you in your afterglow. You belonged in the Sistine Chapel to be rightfully worshipped. Or perhaps in a Greek mythology book.

And yet, here you remained. With him.

Your eyes met his, and the two of you giggled in shock and disbelief. You nuzzled your nose against his before kissing him sweetly.

“This…This isn’t throwing you off?” Steve asked innocently.

You could not believe he had the sheer audacity to even ask you that after what had just occurred, but he wouldn’t be Steve if he didn’t. That was all the confirmation you needed.

“You’ll always be my Stevie.”

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x woc!reader #steve rogers x filipina!reader #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #40s!steve rogers x reader #40s!steve rogers x you #40s!steve rogers x y/n #40s!steve rogers x woc!reader #40s!steve rogers x filipina!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x woc!reader

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cricket-reader · 10 months

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The Fall

Summary: Bucky remembers the fall.

Warnings: language, Steve’s negative thoughts/guilt, Bucky’s fall, mentions of self-harm, Bucky trying to recover, fluff

Word Count: 635

Prompt: "How long have you been like this?" | Fall | Sleep Deprivation | Blankets

A/N: Day 18 of June of Doom by @juneofdoom

Gif is not mine

When Steve walked into his room, he noticed a pile of blankets. Encased was a large, typically grumpy super soldier. He was just staring at the wall, tears running down his face.

“Buck?” Steve cautiously approached him. He knew that when things got bad he found refuge in his room. He’d always feel bad afterwards no matter how many times Steve told him it was okay. He’d rather Bucky come to him than hurt himself like he used to. He’ll never erase the memory of when he walked into Bucky’s room to see him trying to claw off his new vibranium appendage. It broke his heart, like glass shattering into pieces.

“I remember.” Bucky offers no further context. His voice cracks, his tone laced with raw emotion. Steve just nods, waiting for him to say more—if he even does.

Looking at his best friend, he could see the bags under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

“You tried to grab me…”

Steve furrowed his brows. It wasn’t often that Bucky came to him like that with memories involving Steve. “But… but I… I slipped…”

Steve’s eyes grew wide. The fall. He was talking about the fall. The thing that terrorised him every night was now the thing terrorising Bucky. Tears formed in his eyes remembering the way he failed his best friend.

Would Bucky blame him too? Is Bucky here to ask him why he didn’t do more to save him? How could he have let his best friend down so bad? Or why he didn’t come back for him? Why he left him out there in the cold to be brought into Hydra’s nasty clutches?

He asked himself those questions every night before falling into fitful bouts of sleep. Maybe Bucky would finally realise that Steve was a horrible person, a horrible friend. Would he get rid of him for good?

“I’m sorry.”

Steve blinked owlishly. Sorry? Sorry? What the hell was he sorry for? If anything, Steve should be the one saying that. He knew, however, that Bucky wouldn’t do well with Steve freaking out. He had to go about this as calmly as he possibly could.

“Why? Why are you sorry, Bucky?”

He opened and closed his mouth, before furrowing his brows. Steve knew to be patient. Sometimes words were hard for him. Especially when he’s in a state like this.

Bucky chewed on the bottom of his lip. “I couldn’t hold on. I left you …alone in that train… I couldn’t… I couldn’t…”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Buck, it’s okay. I don’t blame you for it, not at all, okay?”

Bucky was crying again, cowering under the blankets. Steve knew not to touch him. Not when he got like this. That didn’t quell the ache he felt to hold Bucky in his arms, to wrap his body around Bucky’s like that would fix everything. As if it would bring them back to Brooklyn when they were just boys, unmarred by war and pain and misery.

“Steve…”

“I’m right here, Buck, it’s okay. I’m right here.”

“No… need you…”

“I’m here, pal. It’s okay. You’re safe, I’ve got you.”

“Please… need you,” he cried, opening his protective layer of blankets. Steve’s heart stuttered because certainly he was reading this situation wrong. Certainly Bucky wasn’t opening the barrier he created to invite him in. He was just reading the situation wrong. This couldn’t be happening.

His hand reached out for Steve, his eyes begging, pleading for Steve to wrap him in his warm embrace. Bucky needed Steve as much as Steve needed Bucky.

So Steve hesitantly joined Bucky in his mound of blankets, stopping every step or so in case Bucky changed his mind. He didn’t.

They both got some well deserved and needed sleep for their sleep-deprived bodies.

Taglist: @harleycao @hallecarey1

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between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place · 2 years

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Hello there, i cant believe I almost missed this… or that its been a year since THAT FIC. Thank you so much for blessing us all with your presence in this fandom!!!!!!

My flavor: established relationship post blip aka Brooklyn boys.

My lyric: We've come so far, through the darkest days//The long night's over and I'm starting to believe//I'm not as broken as some made me out to be

(I’ve been obsessing over this lyrics from Running For So Long and them since forever!)

T, darling, thank you for being my cheerleader ever since that first fic and for always yelling with me about these dumb, lovely men 🥰🥰🥰

(so, I was truly planning on doing these prompts in the order I got them but then this whole thing basically came to me while I was falling asleep and one thing lead to another and ... yeah)

I bet you can never guess where this prompt took me.

I’m not as broken as some made me out to be, 2,8 k words, rated T

Read it on AO3 (or under the cut)

Nothing, nothing, a pedestrian crossing the street with a stubby-legged dog bouncing behind them, nothing.

He inhales through his nose, keeps his eye fixed to the scope and keeps counting down the minutes in his head.

A brush of static in his ear piece. With the flick of a switch meditative focus shifts to full battle-readiness.

Then at once a stream of garbled fragments come through, “... ambush … conceal … Barnes … left … watch—”

His comms give an eardrum-piercing shriek and go stone dead. It’s like someone stuck his head in a vacuum. For a split-second Bucky thinks he’s the one who’s gone deaf, but then the noises of the outside world come flooding back in—distant traffic from the four-lane highway, drunken voices and music spilling out from the clubs two blocks over, a pair of cats howling in the next alley.

“Fuck.” He rips the useless piece of plastic from his ear and pushes up from his sniper’s perch, one hand finding the sheath on his thigh. The weight of the knife in his hand becomes a new anchor point.

Back pressed to the bolted door to the stairwell, Bucky scans the waves of sloping, red-tiled rooftops around him. He doesn’t catch any movement.

The first warning is the hairs on the back of his neck rising.

A faint crackling buzz fills the air.

He curses soundlessly and wills his sight to penetrate the velvety blackness of the Mediterranean summer night. A bead of sweat stings his eyes. He wets his lips.

The sharp metallic taste that sticks on the back of his tongue does bad things to his brain.

(a flash of electric blue, the sickening smell of burnt flesh, the cloud of vapor where there had just been a person)

He pinches the skin on his wrist with metal fingers. It pulls him back into the moment a little bit. He sticks his free hand in his pocket and closes his fingers around a flat, hard shape the size of a coin. He squeezes it until the edges digging into his palm threaten to break skin.

A soft whoosh and sudden gush of wind from his eight-o-clock signals another presence on the roof. Bucky’s head twists in the direction of the noise.

Four things happen in quick succession:

A familiar voice calls his name.

There’s a flurry of movement on the next rooftop over.

The crackling noise reaches a peak.

A blue-white pulse cuts through the air, lighting the scene like a camera flash.

At the center of it, two shapes stand like cardboard cut-outs against the black sky. One wields a wide-barreled weapon that radiates with that unearthly light; the other holds a metal disk.

Their target raises his alien weapon.

Bucky dives toward the figure in red, white and blue.

The night explodes in a blinding light.

“That’s it Barnes. You’re done. I’m not gonna be the one to call your boyfriend and tell him a magic shotgun blew out your super soldier brain.”

“Fuck off, Wilson. I was saving your ass,” Bucky spits with adrenaline-fueled vitriol.

He’s got a splitting headache and no patience for sanctimonious lessons about sticking to mission protocol instead of protecting careless assholes running around with a shield and a hero complex.

Sam just glares back at him, arms crossed over his chest. The wings still on his back add to the air of dignified authority, only lessened by the tired droop of his shoulders.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky can see Maximoff and Belova, perched cross-legged on the low brick wall, exchanging meaningful looks.

A slight figure in all black breaks away from the group of squabbling agents from at least five separate local and international agencies, and strides toward their little huddle.

“Stand down, boys.” Natasha flashes a semi-threatening smile at them. “We’re not done here yet.”

“What’s going on?” Sam asks, blinking away the signs of fatigue and squaring his shoulders as he turns to face her.

“Just some clean up.” Natasha rolls her eyes. “Seems we got all these idiots rounded up, but a couple of them apparently thought they could make a break for it by dumping the evidence in the harbor. Local law enforcement aren’t thrilled to have potentially radioactive alien tech polluting their waters, so we’ve been volunteered to help out.”

Her announcement is met by a chorus of groans.

Dawn breaks as they file into the quinjet.

Bucky stays back while Wanda maneuvers the vibranium-enforced box containing one of the seized weapons into the cargo hold. A humorless security council official had been called in and begrudgingly authorized them to oversee its transport to S.W.O.R.D:s New York lab.

That a bunch of Thanos-admiring wannabe-nazis managed to dig up buried experimental Hydra weapons of extraterrestrial origin, is in and of itself a non-ideal situation. These particular weapons happening to hit a bit too close to home was only icing on the cake.

Bucky grabs a water bottle from the cooler to rinse the foul, rubbery taste from his mouth. He picks a seat close to the cockpit, straps in, and lets his head drop back against the wall.

His hands have bunched into fists, the plastic bottle crumpling between his fingers. He flattens them on top of his thighs.

The engines roar to life.

He closes his eyes and forces himself to unclench his jaw. The headache settles at the base of his skull.

“A souvenir?”

Bucky lifts his head as Natasha takes the empty seat beside him.

They’re coasting over the Atlantic with Yelena in the pilot’s chair.

He opens his hand and flips the gold-colored medallion between his fingers. He holds the keychain with the ring linked around his ring finger and runs his thumb over the inscribed coordinates for a place where the earth opens at your feet and the sky is tapestry strewn with small lights.

“A promise.”

“Hmm.” Natasha tilts her head like she’s considering his answer. A smile plays at the corner of her mouth. “Not exactly traditional. But at least you didn’t go off and get married in Vegas without inviting any of your friends.”

He doesn’t gape at her or betray his surprise in any other way, but has no doubt she can tell anyway. “Steve told you about … ?”

She raises her eyebrows in a way that says who do you take me for?

“Fair enough.” He clips the keychain back in its place in his pocket. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

Green eyes glitter with barely concealed amusement. “Was it?”

He opts not to answer her.

The glitter hardens to gleaming stones. “Why are you here, James?”

That question catches him off guard more than her knowing about the engagement.

“What do you mean? We had the mission,” he attempts.

She doesn’t bother responding to his deflection.

“Where else would I be?” he asks, a bit more defensively than he means to.

That earns him another raised eyebrow and full, no-holds-barred sarcasm. “Oh, I don’t know—how about Brooklyn? You know, where Steve ‘I have a martyr-complex and can’t let anyone save the world without me’ Rogers is cozying up in your brownstone.”

Bucky sighs. The headache has traveled up to his temples. He pushes the heels of his hands against his eye sockets.

“Your boyfriend put you up to this?”

He takes some satisfaction in noting the way the word boyfriend makes her eyelid twitch ever-so-slightly before he pushes on. “I thought you would get it. This. It’s what we do. Making things right. Protecting people.” He pauses and meets her eyes. “Crossing off names.”

Natasha looks down at her hands. She shakes her head once from side to side.

“I’m done with that. That’s not why I’m here. I figured the whole ‘dying to save the world’ bit was grounds enough for me to get out.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Bucky follows her gaze to the row of seats on the other side of the cabin—where Sam is sleeping, mouth open, with Wanda’s head resting on his shoulder—and watches it soften into something almost unrecognizable.

When she turns back to him her smile is wry, but there’s a raw vulnerability there he can’t remember ever being afforded to see before. “It’s a bitch, loving people.”

She shakes her head again, grimacing like she’s thought of a joke. “You know, the first time Steve stayed back from a mission, I nearly had to chain him to the wall.”

A pain he knows as affection lances through the gaps in his ribs. “Punk,” Bucky mutters.

They sit in silence as the jet hurls them through the mid-Atlantic night; moving forward and back in time.

Natasha leans down and picks up two containers of high-energy, high-protein sludge from the cooler box. She hands him the chocolate flavored one. It tastes like the idea of chocolate and doesn’t really do anything to ease the gnawing hunger that’s starting to make itself known. He downs half of it in one go.

“What—” Bucky cuts himself off, not knowing if the question he’s thinking of is one he should be asking or even wants to know the answer to.

Except, he thinks he needs to know.

“What was he like, during … when we were—” belatedly, Bucky realizes that we includes the man sleeping opposite them, who Natasha Romanoff a moment ago admitted to loving, and wants to bite his tongue off “—gone.”

She doesn’t say anything at first. He stares at an uneven weld in the floor.

“He … he never stopped. Never stopped working, never stopped hoping. Not really. But—” Natasha takes a deep breath, as if asking if he’s sure he wants her to continue.

“But?”

She touches two fingers to the back of his wrist. When he lifts his gaze, she looks him straight in the eyes, face impassive.

“But that’s also what broke him down, I think. Steve was a leader. He would talk to everybody else about moving on, moving forward, but the only thing he could bear to look at was the distant past. I think that hope was the only thing that kept him standing—and if he dared to name it, it too would crumble to dust in his hands. So he kept quiet and held on until his fingers were worn to the bone.

“Sometimes, I got to his place and there was a second before he opened the door when I wondered if—this time—he would be gone.”

The cloyingly sweet chocolate curdles in Bucky’s mouth and he has to will himself not to gag. You wanted to know.

He swallows down the bile and the things that want to claw their way out of his gut. “I didn’t—Was he … I know it was bad. But this, it’s the thing we don’t talk about.” Because he’d been afraid of asking, of knowing. Because he’d selfishly told himself he was sparing Steve the pain of carving up old wounds.

Natasha, because she is Natasha, doesn’t look at him with pity or spare him any blows. “He was always bad, when it came to you.”

That hurts in a different way, the ache of broken bones that never set right.

“I know we, what we are, isn’t exactly normal or …”

She laughs then, even if it’s quiet so as not to disturb the others. “James. Take a look around you. Normal’s not really in the cards for people like us.”

She looks across the cabin again. Her hand is still resting on top of his. He flips his own palm up and she laces their fingers together.

“We do the best with what we got and learn to accept that we can have the things that are given to us.”

It’s still night in Brooklyn.

The door to the apartment locks behind him with a soft click. The place is quiet, but the presence of another person is still palpable.

Bucky stands on their hallway carpet and lets out a long breath. His shoulders slump forward. The sense of relief that hits him is so sudden and powerful he could almost cry.

He unlaces his boots and walks on socked feet through the dark rooms. In the bathroom he discards the pieces of his uniform one by one and piles them on the floor. Then he flicks the lights on and looks into the mirror and waits for the Soldier to stare back at him.

The person in the mirror grimaces. His face is lined and streaked with dirt. His eyes are a dull gray under the harsh fluorescents. Tired—not lifeless like a machine, but the way only someone who’s alive can be tired.

He pulls out the elastic holding up his hair and lets it drape around his face, sweat-damp and limp, and still he sees only himself.

He washes in the sink, with the meticulous care of a ritual. Dirt and grime and blood stains pure-white porcelain and is rinsed away.

In the towel cupboard there’s clean underwear and that ridiculous, fluffy bathrobe he’ll never admit to wearing around the apartment whenever Steve is out.

The kitchen gets light from the street outside. There’s a dish of leftover creamy mac and cheese in the fridge and he devours it leaning against the kitchen counter.

He leaves the dish in the sink, brushes his teeth, hangs up the robe on its peg.

He walks toward the bedroom with slowing steps, like he’s not really sure it’s actually there, that his oasis isn’t just a mirage in the desert.

He slinks in through the door and holds his breath until he sinks down on the edge of the mattress. Nothing stirs. Silvery moonlight pokes in through the slit in the curtains. Bucky sits with his hands on his knees and watches it trip over the cracks in the floorboards.

“Hey.” A scratchy whisper makes him turn around.

“Hey, you. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Even half-asleep, Steve demands to know how the mission went, and scolds himself for his absence.

Standard mission, Bucky tells him. It’s a white lie, he tells himself.

It’s a testament to how tired Steve really is—and to a level of trust Bucky can’t wrap his head around—how quickly he relents once he’s confirmed everyone is all right.

He lies down in their bed and Steve, sleep-drunk and sweet as anything, curls up to him. Without reservation.

Bucky cradles his jaw and traces the shape of him, the softness, the way he yields and melts under a tender touch—melts to fill cracks and smooth out jagged edges.

It’s the most precious thing he’s been given. And no, he doesn’t think that he deserves it, could ever deserve it—but he’s starting to think he could learn to accept it.

To have and to hold.

He thinks Steve’s fallen asleep when he opens his mouth and confesses to the darkness. “I think this was my last one. I think I’m done.”

The arms around him tighten their grip.

“Morning.” He slides out a chair and plants his elbows on the kitchen table.

“Morning, Buck,” Steve greets him over the shoulder from the counter where he’s putting together … something with oatmeal and yogurt and fruits. (Bucky’s the first to admit his own knowledge of 21st century cooking isn’t the most extensive.) "Sleep all right?"

Bucky grunts an affirmative. He could have done with another four hours, but what sleep he did get was calm and undisturbed by replays of yesterday’s mission.

He makes a grateful grab for the mug of steaming coffee Steve puts down in front of him.

Steve lingers by the table, hands hanging by his sides. Bucky sacrifices the feeling in his tongue for a glorious mouthful of coffee and waits for him to speak.

“Did you mean what you said? About quitting,” Steve says quietly. He’s got his eyes cast down, tracing the pattern of the table cloth.

Bucky’s throat closes up unexpectedly. “Yeah,” he croaks out.

When Steve looks up at him, eyes shiny with hope, he wants to bang himself over the head for not getting here sooner.

“Why now?” Steve asks. “What changed?”

“Had a talk with Romanoff. She’s got our number by the way.” He reaches out and touches a fingertip to the dog tags hanging over Steve’s t-shirt; his name resting in the only real home he's known in this lifetime.

Steve smiles. “Figures.”

He folds his fingers around Bucky’s wrist and keeps his hand there, pressed to his chest. “Welcome home, Buck,” he whispers.

The way Bucky’s eyes prick must be a delayed reaction to the coffee scalding his throat.

“Thanks for waiting, sweetheart.”

“Always.”

#em's fic-a-versary #stucky #stucky fic #stevebucky #litanies series #writing things

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acourtofsnakes · 3 years

Text

A Helping Hand - Bucky Barnes x Reader (f)

(Gif: @sebastianruinedme )

Summary: After a stressful week, you try to wind down with some personal time but nothing quite hits that spot. And a certain Super Soldier may just be more than willing to help you.

Warnings: 18+ Smut - Masturbation/toys, Oral (f receiving), fingering, neck play, arm/hand kink, dirty talk, a faint Dom theme if you squint, swearing – honestly, Bucky should just be a kink in himself.

Word count: 5k+ words full of hot playtime.

A/N: This is just filth, to be honest. I was feeling a certain way after watching episode 3 of TFATWS and seeing that scene with Bucky cleaning his hand and… ideas happened, and this was born. There’s not really a plot… simply enjoy.

Smut under the cut!!

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal

Part 2

There was something to be said about the advancement of toys in recent years.

There were hundreds of them. All different types. For all different things.

Rabbits, waterproof vibrators, pulsating and pounding ones, ones that felt like oral, handsfree vibrators, remote control vibrators – the list went on.

You had a lot. Tucked in a drawer of your dresser in a pretty box that just made you go all tingly in the knees every time you saw it.

You were proud of your collection.

And boy, did you love them.

They never let you down, ever.

But unfortunately, tonight was just not one of those nights.

It has been a tough week.

Not only had you taken a beating in training yesterday, but you were also late for an appointment across the city, which resulted in being yelled at by Fury.

You really regretted decided to help him when he needed it.

There wasn’t a lot going on lately, so you offered to help Fury when he needed it.

Usually, you were on his food side.

Yesterday, not so much.

Everything seemed out to get you, and after the shit show of the week, you just wanted to treat yourself. So, you’d holed yourself up in your room on your floor of the compound, had a long, luxurious soak in the bath, and then decided to work out your anxiety and tension with one of your many, many friends.

And for the first time in a while, they just weren’t hitting that spot.

Literally.

You groaned, throwing the third toy - this one a rabbit that was one of your most trusty companions - on the side of your bed.

For the last forty minutes, you’d been dancing between three different toys and your fingers.

You’d tried being on your belly, your side, and your back. You’d even tried a pillow.

But nothing was the right pressure on your clit, no toy or finger felt deep enough inside, and you couldn’t hit that spot inside without getting a wicked cramp in your wrist that forced you to stop.

You sat up, every nerve in your body wound to a knife edge, leaving you frustrated and tempted to throttle someone.

Or get someone to throttle you.

Preferably whilst pinning you to a wall... or a desk.

Or anywhere really.

You just needed something, anything to get out this frustration and give you the release you’d been desperately chasing all night.

It wasn’t even a case of hovering on the edge - you couldn’t even get there. The fire and heat just stayed a kindling ember in your belly, and never reaching that explosive fire.

After getting up and downing a measure of whiskey whilst watching the rain, you decided to try a last-ditch attempt with a different toy.

This one was a curved vibrator, with a thicker rounder head for supposedly perfect pressure on your g-spot.

Simple, straight forward.

Surely, if none of the others had done it, this one finally would.

After settling back on your bed, you took a little more care this time, even going as far to light a few candles to add an ambiance to the room rather than have it pitch black with the sounds of the rain.

You worked yourself up this time, building it slowly, teasing yourself with brushes of your fingertips over your throat and breasts, setting your skin ablaze.

You pushed yourself to the edge a little, and then worked over with your vibrator.

Until ten minutes later, when you literally launched the vibrator across the room and it hit the wall with a resounding thud, that echoed your hiss of frustration. “Fucking hell.”

A shit week, a shit day, and you couldn’t even fuck yourself well enough to be able to wind down and get some sleep.

There was a sudden knock and then Bucky’s voice echoed through your bedroom door. “Darlin’?” There was a slight hint of his Brooklyn accent peeping through at the end, stirring something within you.

You startled, sitting bolt upright and your head snapped to the door, “Bucky?” You had the good sense to lock the door, but still. He was right there.

His shadow moved beneath the door, and you realised he was leaning against it, “Is everything alright? I heard banging.”

Well, no not really. I’ve been trying to get myself off for the last hour and nothing appears to be working and I’m sitting here naked whilst you’re the other side of my door calling me Darling in that ridiculously hot accent that shouldn’t even be that hot. But hey, apart from that, everything’s great.

You slid off the bed, padding across the room after dropping your toys back in their drawer, glaring at it as you passed. You slipped a robe on before making your way across the fluffy rug to the door, “Yeah, I’m okay...” You unlocked the door, tugging it open.

Bucky was leaning against the doorframe, all broad shoulders, long lines and soft smile.

His searing blue eyes were instantly locked onto you, a smirk playing on those gorgeous lips.

He cocked his head, standing there with his arms crossed, and you noticed that for once, he wasn’t wearing any gloves. Just a simple long-sleeved T-shirt, jeans that hung sinfully close to his hips and... no boots. Just socks.

Like he’d taken his shoes off before waking into your apartment.

Ever the gentleman.

His arm was bare, the soft light of the hall bouncing off of the black vibranium and sparking the gold. You’d always loved his arm. The sheer power of it, the way you’d seen it shatter a man’s ribs instantly and tear through a brick wall like it was made of glass. The same hand that tickled behind the ears of a stray kitten in Prospect Park and test the ripeness of plums at the market.

You wanted that hand around your throat.

Eyes the colour of the Arctic sea roamed over your body, from your slightly mussed up hair to the flush along your neck that disappeared in the dip of your dressing gown. “Mm... are you sure about that?” He tilted his coyly, a smirk playing on his lips and you had a feeling this expression had been one of the trademarks since the 40’s.

You narrowed your eyes at him, more than aware that he was seeing far more than you wanted him to, “I’m fine.” You turned from the door, leaving it open for him to come in, “How comes you’re up on my floor, anyway?” You peered over your shoulder at him as you padded across the room to the drinks cart.

Yes, there was a bar on your floor, but why couldn’t you have a cart in your room? Tony hadn’t even needed to ask when designing it.

Bucky walked in, his footfalls silent like a cat, that training never quite leaving him, “I couldn’t sleep. No nightmares, just restless.” He added the last part quickly, in response to the concern that tightened your expression.

It was nothing unusual, Bucky coming up here to your room.

You often found each other after nightmares or rough days, seeking comfort and distraction from the darkness that lingered.

Some days and nights, you went out, needing an outside diversion from the thoughts.

Other times, you stayed in, watching films, talking, training or just... sitting quietly, knowing that the other persons presence was enough protection and reassurance. Words weren’t needed… just company.

You handed him a drink, plopping down on the end of your bed and you watched him sink into the couch opposite, “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Since everything with the War, Bucky was working on fitting back into a routine, into ‘normal’ life - or what could be considered normal for people like yourselves.

He was undergoing his mandatory therapy sessions, and they seemed to be helping him.

He was back in contact with Sam, and the pair even worked a few jobs together now and then, even if they did bicker like an old married couple - it provided great entertainment when you tagged along.

He leant back on the couch, settling his left arm across the back. He always looked at home on your floor, relaxed, like his mind could shut off a little. “Nah, I’m okay... Thank you though.” He shot you an easy smile again, one that he probably hadn’t used in.... decades. “What about you? Why are you up so late?”

Mimicking his shrug, you kept your expression neutral, making sure your eyes didn’t drift to that certain drawer, “Rough week. I was reading to try and drift off.”

“Mmmhm...” Bucky’s hummed response told you instantly that he did not believe you one bit. “What were you reading? Cosmopolitan’s best guide to toys?” That shit eating grin graced his face and he motioned gracefully with his left hand... to the corner of the room.

The vibrator you’d launched was sitting on the floor, nestled in the rug, the soft mint green silicone practically a beacon.

Okay.

Okay…. So. There were two ways you could respond to this.

Either play it off, deny it and change the subject.

Or…

Turning back to him, you shrugged again, “Oh, I’ve read that back to front. And made a few additions myself.” You cocked your head, a faint flutter in your belly as you awaited his response.

The barest flicker of surprise danced across his beautiful, rugged features before dissolving into something confident and smouldering. “Well, it looks to me like their guide isn’t true to review tonight. Something tells me you’re having a little bit of trouble.” His voice had begun to lower into a deeper, the natural roughness of his voice coming out.

It stoked that fire within you, warming your blood and curling low in your belly.

“And if I was? What would you suggest to help?” It was almost impossible to remain sitting still as the atmosphere folded and changed. There was one obvious route to your back and forth… and you wanted it.

Wanted… him.

And if you were honest, you had for a long time now. There was just something about him that you’d always been drawn to, a simmering tension that settled whenever you were together.

Bucky rose from the sofa in a fluid movement, walking toward you slowly, casually, but with the grace and prowl of a wolf eyeing up its next meal – you.

And fuck, you wanted him to devour you.

He slid his hands into his pockets, feet silent on your wooden floor, “Well… I would say that as wonderful as your toys may be… they’re just that. Toys. They can’t… feel what you like.” His eyes burned through you with each of his steps. “They don’t hear the noises you make when they hit the right spot. They don’t get to see the way your body reacts, the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip because it feels overwhelmingly good.”

He was close enough for you to smell his cologne, and that only added to the growing wetness between your thighs as his filthy, beautiful words.

Bucky stopped in front of you, removing his left hand and touching his fingers to your chin to tilt it up to face him, “They can’t know the little things… the deeper angle, that extra finger or sweep of the tongue… they can’t make you so wet that it runs down your thighs and they can’t make you arch off the bed as you shatter into starlight…” He sighed softly, shaking his head in mock disappointment, “I’m afraid they just… can’t make you come the way a real person could.” He applied a little pressure to the underside of your chin, and you rose to your – unsteady - feet instantly, putty in his hands.

Holy fuck, Bucky Barnes had a mouth on him.

Your teeth had indeed sunk into your lower lip, and your breathing had grown shallow. It was an effort to keep your thighs firmly locked together… Because you were just as wet as he had said.

The dark flame in his eyes told you that he knew the reaction you were having to him. He brushed a cool thumb over your lip, then tugged it gently to free it from your teeth and at the same time, he leant his head down to your level, “They can’t make you come like I can, darlin’.” This close, his warm lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice reduced to a husky rasp that only further drew out that Brooklyn accent.

The soft moan that left your lips was almost pitiful, but you didn’t care, “Shit.”

You breathed the word, earning a deep chuckle in your ear before Bucky pulled back, only enough to see your face, “You want me to help you? Give you a helping hand?” His words were low and seductive, but he was looking between your eyes, making no more moves until he knew you wanted this.

If you changed your mind, he would leave right now, and say no more about it.

That very thought pained you.

Something had always hovered between you both… and maybe now was the time to let it out. You shared a few kisses on nights out and he had featured heavily in your fantasies night after night, wishing your fingers were his, the toys were him….

You met his eyes, your own clear and sure and you kept that gaze as you parted your lips. Then swept your tongue along his thumb and tilted your head down just enough to take it between your lips. The vibranium was smooth, cold and it felt oddly delightful on your tongue. “Make me come, Bucky. Prove to me you’re better than the toys.” Your voice was low with need, a soft pleading note for him there as you gazed up through your eyelashes.

The Arctic blue of his eyes deepened to near midnight, his pupils blowing out as he watched you talk around his thumb, your tongue sweeping over the metal and he almost purred, “Oh, baby, you won’t need toys when I’m done.” And then he was on you.

He gently pulled his hand from your face, instead placing it lightly around your neck, the heavy metal settling on your collarbones and that alone drenched you.

He looked between your eyes, checking one final time and then his mouth was lowering onto yours, his lips warm, plush and ever so inviting. Instantly, he licked a teasing line along your lips, which you would have parted for him without the request.

Bucky’s tongue slipped past your lips, sweeping against yours in hot strokes as he explored every corner of your mouth.

He tasted divine, and even more so when his thumb lightly tipped your chin back and he traced the tip of his tongue along the roof of your mouth, licking over the ridges and showing you exactly what that tongue could do.

A groan left your lips, and you slid your hands up his arms to those shoulders, those gorgeous broad shoulders that all you wanted to do was dig your nails into them and use for support as you rode him.

A deep curl of delight and joy was unfurling within the heat in your belly, because you needed this, needed more of him and his hands and his tongue and his words… and you were finally getting it

Hell, he had only just started kissing you and you already could have fallen apart just from that.

“Why have we not been doing this all the time?” Was the only thought that your already fuzzy mind could come up with as he pulled away slowly from your lips, only to begin pressing hot, open kisses against your jaw that were all teeth and tongue. He seared a path to your neck, kissing all over until he found that particular spot that made you whimper and arch into his body.

Bucky laughed low against your neck, the sound vibrating, “Oh, baby, you were struggling, weren’t you? I’ve barely even touched you and you’re already a mess…” He used his hand on your throat to tilt your head to the side, before biting at your skin, sweeping his tongue over the hot and sucking a deep mark there.

A slight whine rippled in your throat, fingers pulling as his shirt and your chest pushed against his, the firm heat of him making your nipples tighten, especially when he pushed into you.

Bucky slipped a hand between your bodies, tugging at the cord of your dressing gown and it slipped from your shoulders, leaving you bare and open to him.

He licked down your neck, his tongue smoothing over the shape of your collarbones and then down your sternum to your breasts. He butterfly kissed the soft flesh, then almost delicately sucked at your rleft nipple, lifting his vibranium hand to squeeze the other, “So beautiful…” He mumbled it half to himself, his dark mussed up curls soft against your skin.

One of your hands trailed up the back of his neck, slightly tangling in the hair at the base of his head and you pushed your chest further into his mouth, “Tease.” The word was a soft gasp, your eyes closing in pleasure and your lips parting.

He chuckled, pulling back to blow a cool breath on the wet skin, watching your nipple harden and then he moved to give the other the same treatment, “Oh, I’m a tease, am I? I can stop if you like.” He grinned around the delicate skin, just slightly grazing his teeth as he tugged your nipple and then he continued his trail of kisses down your body, slowly sinking to his knees. “I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop though, darlin’.” His right hand grasped your ankle, and then he ghosted warm fingertips up your leg, past your knee and then pausing at your inner thigh, at what he felt there, “No. No I don’t think you’ll ask me to stop at all.”

The cocky bastard grinned once more against your stomach, before dipping his tongue inside your belly button.

“Bucky…” You couldn’t hide the whimper in your voice, nor the way your hips rocked forward in a plea. It was almost painful how much you needed him to touch you, needed to feel his lips and his tongue.

“Shhh, baby, I know.” His hands slipped up your waist, as soothing as his gentle coo against your belly button and then he brushed his lips lower and lower… and then finally, he pressed a soft butterfly kiss to your pubic bone.

A low groan tore from his throat, his hands digging into the soft flesh of your hips as he saw you, swollen and positively dripping for him, “Oh, darlin’, look at you…”

The sheer desire and awe in his low voice caused heat to flush along your cheekbones. You weren’t shy by any means, but the almost primal admiration in his voice was something you’d never heard before, the pure want and desire to make you feel good and worship you.

Bucky admired the sight before him for a single moment, before lifting his eyes to yours and then he dove in, immediately devouring you like he was starving. His deft tongue slipped through your slick folds with ease, and he moaned again at your taste, at your smell, everything.

He pressed his tongue flat against you before sucking at your clit, with such an intensity that you almost choked. It was a simple movement, but it shot electricity through your body and made every single nerve stand on end.

He let that coil of energy begin to build, and then he licked back down, his hands sliding down to palm at your ass cheeks before digging his fingers into your skin, pulling you in further so he could bury his nose against your clit and his tongue – fuck, his tongue pushed inside of you, hot and heavy. It just felt so, so good, his nose putting pressure on your bundle of nerves, his tongue pumping inside you.

Your hands flew down to his hair, winding through it to keep him there, keep him doing that, to keep him fucking you with his tongue, “Buck-”. You weren’t sure what you were begging him for, only that you just needed to say his name, needed to do something.

Your hips began to rock in time with his thrusts, and you became aware of it only when Bucky’s muffled moan reverberating through you.

He liked it, no... he loved this, that you were grinding against his face as his tongue worked inside you, tasting parts of you no one else had ever gotten right before.

“Fuck, Bucky, keep doing that – I’m-” You cut off with a high moan, your head tilting back as you rocked into him faster, chasing down that high that was so tantalisingly close. It hadn’t taken long, you were so worked up from your failed attempts that you were already there.

Bucky’s began to lick and suck you with new fervour, his head moving in time with the jerks of his hips, feeling the way your walls were tightening around his tongue. His fingers dug harder into your ass, and you felt the silent command almost, Come.

And you did.

You cried his name out to the sky, every nerve in your body winding to near painful tautness before you shattered on his face, your first orgasm ripping through you.

Bucky didn’t stop, working you through it and drawing it out further and further as he lapped up every single drop you gave him, moaning himself like it was the most tantalising thing he had ever tasted.

He stopped only when your grip released on his hair, the sensitivity of your nerves almost painful, your legs shaking like crazy and he lifted his hand from between your thighs, his lips and chin glistening. He rose from his knees, nudging you back onto the bed and instantly crawling up your body, “You have no idea how good you taste.”

You whimpered slightly, catching your breath as you watched him crawl up you, eyes burning like sapphire fire, his tongue licking slowly over his lips as he savoured you. Words were beyond you, desire still coursing through your veins and you were a little in awe at how quickly – and hard – he had brought you to your first orgasm.

Bucky grinned devilishly, “That won’t be your last.” He lowered his mouth back to yours and as you tasted yourself on him, you grew instantly wet for him again.

His body brushed into yours and you felt how painfully hard he was through his jeans, the sounds and taste of you getting to him of course.

Your fingers had barely brushed against his restrained length when he shook his head, nipping at your lower lip, “Oh no, baby, this is all about you.”

You ignored him, palming him through his jeans and he moaned lowly before his eyes flashed, his hand suddenly back on your throat and he moved his hips away so you couldn’t get to him. “I said no.” It was almost a snarl, “This is about you. Not me.” His hand tightened just slightly around your throat, making it that little bit harder to breathe and your eyes rolled back at how delicious it felt.

It was a huge kink for you, the idea of someone – of Bucky - taking control, being in control of your body even it was just for a little while. You didn’t need to think or do anything. Only feel and be at the mercy of his touch.

You relented, legs falling open for him and you tilted your head back, searching for his lips.

Bucky granted you the kiss, a slow, languid kiss at first that was all simmering passion and tangling tongues, the taste on you still lingering on his lips.

He palmed your breast again, tugging and squeezing the flesh until he scratched his nails lightly down your ribcage and belly.

Yes, yes-

He wasted no time, no more playing and his fingers slipped lower, circling over your clit with a delicious pressure that had you instantly moaning into his mouth.

He toyed with your clit a little more, before gathering your wetness and then sinking two fingers inside you, pushing all the way into his knuckles, then drawing back out slowly.

As he withdrew, you moaned long and slow into his mouth and he began a steady rhythm. Pushing and curling his fingers inside you a few steps, then circling and pulling at your clit, ever so subtly switching it up with each pass so you couldn’t predict what he would do.

It felt amazing, but… there was something still missing. It still wasn’t quite enough to send you over that final edge… it wasn’t what you’d been fantasising about.

No, it was his left hand. That dark, golden vibranium hand that was currently seated around your throat.

The knowledge of what it could do, the sheer power in it that could easily crush your windpipe or shatter your jaw with a single flick of his wrist.

That is what you needed.

Those cool, powerful fingers inside you, working you over – that was the best toy.

It was like he could read your mind somehow, or the way your body sung to his tune. He lifted his head, looking down at you with those searing blues and he cocked his head, a slow grin lighting his gorgeous face, “Oh… This-” he scissored his fingers inside you, stretching your walls and ever so slightly brushing up against that spot, “isn’t quite what you want, is it, darlin’?”

Holy Christ, he was going to destroy you before you even got what you wanted.

You looked up at him, panting, hips rocking to the slower thrust of his fingers and you shook your head.

Bucky swore softly, panting himself and he squeezed your throat once before lifting his fingers, “You want these, don’t you?”

Instead of answering him, you ducked your head, taking his three fingers into your mouth and immediately gliding your tongue around them, up and down in slow, dirty strokes.

The effect was instantaneous. Bucky’s hips jerked slightly against yours, his mouth parting as he watched you suck his vibranium fingers, hollowing your cheeks, eyes rolling back in your head like… like it was something else entirely.

He groaned, swore again and then almost ripped his fingers from your mouth and from between your legs at the same time.

Your entire body mourned the loss, feeling empty, clenching around nothing but mere seconds later, he plunged those three vibranium fingers inside of you, slick with your saliva and how unbelievably wet you were.

It stung a little, but only added to the feeling as your hips rose off the bed, “Shit, shit-”

They felt… like the best toy you could ever imagine. Smooth, cold, and hard enough that you could feel every faint ridge of the joints as he slid them in and out. You reached out, grabbing his arm with one hand and the bed with the other, needing something to hold onto as instinct took over. Your hips rode upwards, back arching as you rocked his fingers in deeper, feeling them in your spine almost. It was better than you could have imagined.

Bucky dropped his head to your chest, spreading his mouth over your breast and his other arm slid over your hips, pinning them to the bed so you were forced to take it. “You wanted this, baby… You take it.” He bit down on the soft flesh of your breast before smoothing his tongue over it again, working an alternative rhythm to his fingers and thumb again, so that your brain couldn’t keep up with which one to follow. It knew only the waves of fire singing through your veins.

Time may have very well dissolved, because you could only feel pleasure, tinged almost with pain.

The thick, hard stroking of fingers as they stretched and wrecked you.

The circling, hard-soft-hard pressure of his thumb on your clit.

The bite of his teeth on your breasts, neck and chest, followed by the wet press of his tongue.

The way he couldn’t help his hips slightly rocking against your leg.

This was almost like a fever dream, expect your brain couldn’t have come up with something this mind melting. Not even if you were really, really worked up.

The noises in the room were absolutely sinful. The unrestrained cries and moans from your lips, Bucky’s groans and his filthy words, the wet pump of his fingers inside you – it was obscene, filthy and completely, painfully mind-blowing.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Bucky, please-” You had no idea what you were begging for, but every single nerve and muscle in your body was coiling tighter and tighter, your hips jerking against his arm as he pinned you down, forcing you to take this, to feel everything he was doing with no relenting. Tears were beginning to blur your eyes and the pleasure he unleashed upon you was almost painful.

Bucky somehow moved his fingers harder, deeper, the ability of the tech in his arm allowing him to do so, “Let go, baby, come on, let it go for me..” He dropped his head, biting down on your neck and he pressed his fingers against that spot inside you, flicking your clit with his thumb and then it all just snapped.

Waves and waves of hot fire flooded your body, dragging you up to the stars, further. It ripped the air from your lungs, made you half scream his name in a never-ending prayer.

It just didn’t stop.

Bucky kept moving inside you, drawing out every single second of your mind-shattering orgasm, letting go of your hips so you could grind them into his hand. “That’s it, baby… Look at you, so beautiful like that…” His praise spurred you on, making you feel almost like a goddess as you flooded his hand.

He stopped only when you slumped back onto the bed, sucking in deep breaths as you tried to piece yourself back together.

Better than toys indeed.

A little while later, you stirred from a light dose to see Bucky lounging on your couch again, cleaning the grooves and metal of his fingers with a soft cloth.

The sight of him concentrating, taking such care and detail with the clean-up, the cleanup from the mess you had made, had you instantly wet again. “Bucky.”

He looked up, hearing the low thrum to your voice and a smirk crossed his lips.

You had a favour to repay for his helping hand, after all.

#well #that happened #i am not sorry #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #arm kink

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melwilson · 3 years

Text

lion boy, broken boy

steve never thought he’d have to face the trauma of his past, but he did. with you right beside him.

steve rogers x f!reader

warnings: mentions of night terrors, anxiety, death

rating: lowkey angsty, but fluff always

dedicated to my lovely friend @honeyhargreeves <3

“golden child, lion boy;

tell me what it’s like to conquer.

fearless child, broken boy;

tell me what it’s like to burn.”

- oh darling, even rome fell (madzie-bane)

the sound was foreign. you almost thought you were making it up, hearing things. but it was most definitely real. the screams of terror could be heard through the thick bedroom walls. except this time it wasn’t from their usual suspect. once or twice a week- things had been getting better- a certain long haired super soldier would be the victim of intrusive thoughts and night terrors. today though, they were coming from next door.

they were coming from steve.

you jumped out of bed and made your way to his room. both sam and bucky stood outside his door - wide awake and protective. they turned to you once they heard your steps, eyes sorrowful. this had never happened before…not to him.

“go back to sleep, guys. i got it.” you sent the pair a small smile. they sent you a look that asked if you were sure and you nodded. “you guys deal with enough. he’ll be fine. i promise.”

sam gave your hand a light squeeze and bucky offered you the smallest of smiles. one that didn’t mask the worry that was laced in his eyes, but one that told you he trusted you. you had been able to coerce him back into a peaceful slumber one too many times. so if you could do it for him, you could do it for steve too.

once you got close to the door, you could make out muffled sniffles and the shifting of sheets.

“steve,” you muttered softly. your voice was just above a whisper as you tried to be mindful of the sleeping avengers. “it’s me. can i come in?”

just as you were going to place a hand on the door knob, the brass turned beneath your finger tips revealing the blonde super soldier. he didn’t say anything as he left the door open and retreated back to the edge of his bed. you quickly stepped inside and shut the door, taking in slow breaths to steady your heart. you had no idea why you were nervous. steve was your best friend. but you had never seen him like this before.

he had his back turned towards you, but by the messy hair, stirred sheets, and his quick and shallow breathing…he wasn’t okay.

he heard a tiny huff fall from your lips and then his ottoman was before his feet, you following. he was glad it was you who came to check on him. he didn’t feel like he was suffocating when you were around. however, he really didn’t want you to see him like this. puffy eyed, red faced, shoulders slumped, shaking, and- and weak.

he was embarrassed. captain america wasn’t weak. he was the living image and embodiment of a perfect soldier. but steve- steve felt like the sixteen year old kid from brooklyn. the one who got beat up in every alley on main street. the kid who always needed saving. steve didn’t want to be saved. he didn’t want people to know the thoughts and nightmares that had been plaguing his mind for months now.

he’s not sure what triggered it, but the nightmares were back. he hadn’t had any since right after he came out of the ice. and they weren’t bad at first-more like vivid memories than nightmares, but now. now was a completely different story.

as soon as his eyes shut, he could see them- his wounded brothers. the ones that had sacrificed their lives for him and for their country because he was america’s pride and joy, a man made for war. and they believed in him, in his leadership, in his strength. but steve didn’t feel strong, because every time he began to fall asleep the gunshots would begin to ring in his ears and the grenades would go off and the screams of his brothers would sound so real. because at one point, it was.

steve was a soldier. he was veteran. it was something that was nearly forgotten and left in history. it was foreign for steve too though. of course, he had his old fashioned tendencies and memories from before the ice, but that part of his life was dead and gone. life after the ice didn’t leave very much room for reminiscing. he was brutally awoken and forced to catch up or be left behind.

but nights like these didn’t let him forget. his life in the forties was permanently etched in his brain like an old tattoo. he had every name of every fallen soldier from his unit written down in a leather bound notebook tucked away in his closet along with the rest of his memories he chose to write down. limp pieces of paper held his old drawings and his old journal entries that he would use to ground him when the chaos of this life got too much- when he started to forget where it all had begun.

he had told you many of times what his life was like before becoming captain america. and in his words you could always hear the longing. the complete and utter desire to relive and go back one more time. to walk the streets of brooklyn listening to bucky ramble on about the pros and cons of going to war, sipping on a soda that was only a nickle. he told you once about how he and bucky snuck into a bar because the brunette had a date, but couldn’t go without his best pal. he had sat in a booth alone watching bucky charm every woman that walked through the doors that night.

the light in his eyes as he told you these stories was priceless. you couldn’t buy the happiness that steve got by being able to escape the burdens of the twenty first century.

steve would often tell you about the war, but most of the time it just revolved about his main men- the howling commandos. they had done just about everything together. their bond was like no other and the things they saw…was like no other too. steve never told you about the bad. about the things he saw and had to do just to survive. or about the people that he lost or the guilt that used to weigh him down because he felt like somehow his men loosing their lives to war was his fault.

you could see it now. all of those emotions hitting him like waves upon the shore. it was present in the distance of his eyes.

world war one had taken steve captive again.

“you know i’m always here for you, right?” your voice was gentle breaking steve’s mindless stare. he nodded, eyes meeting yours. he searched them looking for even the slightest hint of pity. all he could find was that compassionate glint and soft gaze that allowed him to breathe a little deeper. “how long has this been going on?”

the blonde stiffened, his eyes bouncing from your gaze to the wall behind you. a picture of you, nat, sam, and bucky took up the space. he had been on a solo mission when the picture was taken. the four of you had gone down to the lake for a day off. he could almost crack a smile at the picture of his best friends- his family- who were worried about him and rightfully so.

“steve, look at me, please.” he almost missed the demanding tone in your voice as he met your eyes once again. “you don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, okay, but you are not going to push me away, you understand? do not let whatever is rattling around in your head get between you and the people who love you the most.”

love.

a strange word for the soldier. everyone he ever loved had gotten ripped away from him in an instant. first his dad, then his mom. bucky. the commandos. peggy.

he gotten lucky with bucky and with this family the world called the avengers, but he was sure his luck was running out. his past was a looming shadow dying to catch up with him. to remind him what happened when he cared too much.

maybe that’s where his nightmares were stemming from.

thatanophobia. the fear and anxiety of losing whom which you love.

and steve rogers had lost a lot. he had become so accustomed to losing. losing fights, losing people, losing trust.

loss. so much loss.

but captain america didn’t lose…right? no, he couldn’t, because the brave face, hard stare, and square shoulders displayed a confidence that told the world captain america would never lose. to the world, it simply wasn’t possible. but after awhile, the facade would become so unrealistic that reality would hit steve like an eighteen-wheeler knocking him off his pedestal reminding him that he could only be captain america for so long until his baggage and trauma came knocking at his door.

this time, his past was dragging him to the edge with only the ocean below to engulf him in the memories.

“i never want to forget,” steve spoke. his voice was hoarse and deeper than usual. “but sometimes i just want the noise to stop.” the break in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. “it’s so loud, y/n.”

the blonde watched as you got up moving to sit next to him. your hand reached out for his as you intertwined your fingers together. “why didn’t you tell someone, stevie?”

he inhaled deeply. exhaled shakily. “i can usually put it to bed. it’s never been this bad.”

“just because you can handle it yourself doesn’t mean you have to.” this was something it took years for you to learn after living on your own for so long.

“i thought i was stronger than this, y/n.” he sounded so exhausted, you couldn’t help but squeeze his hand a little tighter. to you, he was the strongest man in the world. and man, you admired him so much, but even the strongest had their weaknesses.

“you’re too hard on yourself, old man. come here.” you stood up leading him back to the head of the bed. you urged him to slide under the covers, following behind him. “rest, okay?”

that night, instead of drifting off to the sounds of war, he was drifting off to the thought of you.

steve wasn’t sure what time it was, but you were nowhere to be found when he woke up. all he knew was that he felt…okay. and okay was better.

today he was leaving for a mission. the first full team mission in a few months because of a few lingering injuries. he hadn’t seen you all day, but the blonde was dying to be in your presence. as soon as his feet hit the quinjet, he was searching for you. his eyes landed to where you were standing in the cockpit next to tony. a smile covered your features at something the billionaire had said causing the waves of anxiety to ripple off the blonde.

as soon as you made eye contact, you walked over to him.

“hello, steven.” your tone was playful as you called him by his full name. the blonde only rolled his eyes and took your hand, dragging you over to a pair of seats as the quinjet door shut. “you okay?”

“yeah,” steve said softly, letting his head rest against the wall. “i just…wanted to be near you is all.”

the same thing happened on the way home. steve found you - this time a little banged up and bruised - and cozied up next to you, because right now, you were his lifeline. he’s not sure if he would ever tell you, but the noise seemed to stop when you were around. the brightness of your smile seemed to fracture the war torn void in his mind. you were a breath of fresh air and steve simply couldn’t get enough of you.

the team didn’t notice it at first. you and steve had been attached at the hip since the day you joined the team. so the constant “innocent and platonic” contact went unnoticed. but then bucky caught you two in the kitchen. steve’s front pressed against your back, arms wrapped around your waist as you poured two cups of coffee. the brunette chose not to worry about it, but began to grow suspicious because that same night he caught steve sneaking into your room.

“you noticing it too, huh?” sam said lowly.

bucky turned to him eyes bouncing between the brown skinned man and the pair laughing in the kitchen.

“they’re all couple-y,” bucky replied.

sam scoffed, “like they weren’t before.” he had a point.

“you talked to steve lately?” bucky asked.

sam shook his head. “i figured after what happened last week he needed his space, ya know. don’t be jealous, buck,” sam said squeezing his friends shoulder, “just be glad he didn’t shut all of us out.”

this was the sixth night in a row, not that you minded. steve was perched next to you, the sound of pencil to paper lightly hitting your ears. the blonde didn’t get to pick up his sketchpad very much. you sat with a book in one hand, cup of tea in the other. it was peaceful, almost normal. domestic. you’d never not wanted to be an avenger. you loved your job and all the challenges that came with it. but right now, as you shared the bed with someone you could possibly see a future with, you could picture a little golden retriever and a white picket fence.

“whatcha thinking ‘bout?” steve asked nudging your shoulder gently.

“i was reading,” you replied nudging him back.

the blonde scoffed. “you haven’t turned a page in like five minutes.”

you rolled your eyes shutting your book and placing it, along with your tea, on your bed side table. “have you ever thought about giving this up? maybe settling down?”

steve’s pencil slowed. “not recently. you?”

you shrugged. “i mean, yeah, sometimes. i try to picture what my life would look like if it was normal… normal enough to have kids.”

“they’d be pretty safe,” steve commented making you chuckle.

“i’m serious though,” you sighed. “you’ve never thought about it?”

the blonde sat down his pencil. “of course i have. but the man who really wanted that went into the ice seventy years ago. go ask that steve.”

by his tone, you could tell you had struck a nerve and you shrunk back into the cushioned headrest. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to push you on.”

guilt washed over the blonde. “i didn’t mean to snap. i just…i’m scared of having a family,” steve whispered. “you know i’ve never said that out loud.” a sad chuckle fell from his lips. “i, uh, i lost my entire family. and then i lost bucky. and then i lost the one woman i thought i could have a family with. and then…i think i lost a little part of myself. and the more time passes the more i realize i can’t be captain america and have a family. it’s just sacrifice after sacrifice for me. and i don’t want your pity, i’m just thinking out loud.”

“clint seemed to figure it out,” you muttered as you nudged him gently. “it’s not selfish of you to want what you want, steve. you’ve given and given and given so much. you deserve peace and a sense of normalcy. i can see you settling down with a beautiful wife and a couple superhero kiddos who would be more than lucky to have you. just don’t forget about what you have here. you’ve got a family that would downright die for you, rogers. and i know what you’re saying is different, but if all else fails remember that you’ve got us.”

you were right. steve had a lot of people to be thankful for. especially you. you were always present and available for him. you had his six on the field and off. all of his friends did, but it was different with you. you would always have his six. through thick and thin. and he would have yours. when you knew he hasn’t eaten in awhile, you’d be the first to grab him a few slices of deep dish from his favorite pizza place off of central park. when you noticed his tense muscles you’d offer to give him a massage. and when he would visibly cringe at the radio, you’d toss him your phone and tell him to choose the playlist you curated specifically for his old taste.

he let out a soft sigh as you wrapped your arms around him, fingers running gently through his cropped hair.

“you’re the best, you know that?”

you hummed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “i know, i get that a lot.”

he laughed lightly, peppering kisses to the exposed skin on your shoulder. “for good reason.”

“don’t shut the team out anymore, okay?”

steve nodded.

“promise me.” you stuck out your pinky finger and he clasped his with yours.

he kissed the tip of your finger before settling back in your arms. “promise.”

“do i still taste of war?

can you still feel the battles on my skin stitched across my back?

am i still rebuilding bone by fragile bone?”

- what does forgiveness taste like? (r.n.)

#steve rogers #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #captain america imagine #captain america x reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans #chris evans captain america #marvel imagine

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marvel-fanfic-writer-8675 · 2 years

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The Jungle Unknown Part Five

Pairings: Steve x Bucky x reader

Warnings: fluff,tiny bit of angst, cursing

Summary of the series: You are a close scientist friend of Bruce’s so when the team needs help from someone with her expertise, they call in the best, you! But what happens when you find the 2 people you’ve been looking for your whole life?

the-jungle-unknown-part-four

You all woke up and got straight to training, you had 8 days till the mission, the date you had to go had been moved forward, word came that HYDRA was making a move sooner than expected so you had to move your timeline up. Everyone of course was nervous, but Bucky and Steve were doing great in training and were learning quickly.

~time skip~

4 days till the mission, the past 4 days were filled with training harder and harder as it got closer and closer to the mission date. Today was important. You were going to hold final tests and go buy supplies. You first did the final test which combined everything on a simulated test run, you three did a decent job, you were all feeling a little better about the mission now. You guys ate a quick lunch and went out to buy supplies, things like MRE’s, water bottles, a tent, sleeping bags etc.

Throughout these past days, you had been sleeping in the same bed as the two guys, nothing had happened, just cuddles and kisses but you were all ok with that, taking it slow until after the deadly mission. The next 3 days were spent anxiously working hard, cramming in as much as you could and not being able to sleep well. The day before the mission you guys decided to not train, and instead have a fun day out together, and enjoy each other’s company.

It started off at 6:30am, when you and Steve got up out of habit, Bucky then whined for more sleep and cuddles which you both gladly gave into it. At 7:30 you guys were getting hungry so you all meandered towards the kitchen and cooked a breakfast of eggs, bacon and French toast. You ate, and then got dressed for the day, you put on a nice red sundress, the boys’ jaws went to the floor when you stepped out in that, they had never seen you in a dress, or something other than comfy clothes. They both decided to match you and Bucky put on his red Hently shirt, Steve wore a red flannel over a white tee, both of your soulmates looked smoking hot and you gave them both many compliments on how handsome they looked.

The three of you went down to Bucky’s motorcycle and got ready to go on a picnic over in a flower field in Brooklyn. The men insisted you be in between them on the bike so that they could protect you in case there was an accident or something, you complied, I mean you got to be in a super soldier sandwich, what could be better.

You arrived at the field and laid out the picnic blanket and food, then you guys cuddled together and ate the food you had packed the night before. After eating and relaxing for a while more you started chasing each other around and just rolling in the flowers. Bucky had stolen your phone and you were on Steve’s back chasing Bucky around. You eventually got close enough to him and you jumped from Steve’s back to Bucky’s, Bucky wasn’t expecting that so it ended up being more of a tackle and you two rolled around in the field(like the Bucky/Sam scene in FATWS) you guys couldn’t stop laughing. You took back your phone and headed back to the blanket triumphantly. Then you guys realized it was getting late so you hopped back on the bike, Bucky and Steve then gave you a tour of Brooklyn, pointing out what had changed and what had stayed the same. Nearing dinner time, the guys pointed out a diner that had been around since they were kids. You then made the executive decision that you guys were eating there and you were paying. There were protests about you paying but you shut those down quickly.

You walk into the diner and get seated, there a pictures on the wall of the diner through the years. You and your soulmates are looking at the ones near your table when you notice one has your two guys in it, but before the serum. “Look! There’s you guys!” You say, pointing at the picture, “Yeah,” Bucky laughs, “I remember that day, we came here after I saved Steve from another fight, this time it was over some dude catcalling a group of dames.” “I had em’ on the ropes” Steve grumbles under his breath, where you almost couldn’t hear it. You reach out and grab his hand, “I know you did hon, thanks for protecting the ladies even back then.” Steve beamed at the compliment. The waitress then comes over and takes your orders, and brings you your drinks. Bucky and Steve share more stories of the 40s until your food comes out, then you guys eat, and the food is amazing, one of the best diners you’ve ever eaten at. You three finish eating and you pay the bill, then you guys decide to head back to the tower and head to bed early, you had to get up extra early tomorrow and head out.

You got back to the tower and went to get a shower. Bucky of course made a few flirtatious jokes about saving water but you three knew, and agreed upon, not doing anything of that nature until you all got back safely, insentive, something to look forward to, you guys claimed. In reality it was so that if one of you didn’t make it, you would be less attached. That night you all cuddled together, nervous tension throughout the room, and tried to sleep, but it was few and far between. The next morning, you would all be working together and fighting for your lives…..

AN: Eek! The next chapter is all about the first part of the mission! Will they survive? Will they run into HYDRA? We shall find out!!

#stucky soulmate #stucky x reader #stucky #Steve Rogers #bucky barnes #bucky x steve #steve fluff #steve x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #marvel fanfic #marvel

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comfortbucky · 3 years

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𝗮 𝘁𝗵𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗺 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗯𝘂𝗰𝗸𝘆 ⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚

gif credit: @buckysbarnes

i’m not a writer but this idea just popped into my head bc of a thunderstorm going on rn

pairing: bucky x gender neutral!reader

my masterlist!

right so imagine:

thunderstorms scare u

and so all u want to do is curl up in a ball in a blanket

and u think about calling ur good friend bucky bc ur scared of being alone

but u don’t wanna bother him, u HATE being a burden for anyone

u guys have become good friends since meeting each other through sam

u met sam at one of his group therapy sessions he ran at the VA in d.c.

and ended up befriending him and his cyborg buddy

u ended up moving to brooklyn, new york where a certain super soldier also happens to live

anyways ur terrified right

and bucky knows about this fear u have

and that sweet precious baby boy is just naturally protective of his friends as he was with steve

there might be other motivating factors with him being overprotective of u.,... *cough* like his crush on u *cough*

and bucky is in his own apartment reading the hobbit AGAIN when he hears the first clap of thunder and he already knows

he knows u must be terrified rn but ur too stubborn to reach out and ask for help or comfort

and without a second thought he’s grabbing his jacket and heading out the door to ur apartment

u live a couple blocks away, so bucky decides to make the journey by foot

also so he can buy ur favorite snacks on the way

when u hear a knock at ur door u jump bc ur already on edge with the thunderstorm going on

and at first u think it was just thunder so u ignore it

until u hear bucky’s calm voice

“y/n?” “it’s me bucky”

u freeze for a second bc u were DEFINITELY not expecting ur crush bucky to show up

u open the door to see bucky soaking wet from the rain

“ur soaking wet”

“yeah, so are u gonna invite me in or not?”

as u let him into ur apartment he reveals from under his jacket some of ur favorite snacks

he was shielding them from the rain !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! so they wouldn’t get wet !!!!!!!!!!!!

“brought some of ur favorites”

u are in love with bucky

ur honestly still recovering from the shock that he’s here,,,, in ur apartment !!

so u scramble to find some dry clothes he can change into (clothes ur ex left behind)

ur able to collect urself while bucky goes to change and take a seat on ur couch, blanket wrapped around ur shoulders to protect u from the storm outside

bucky walks into ur living room while drying his hair with a towel

and u realize u could get used to this view

once u guys have settled and found ur spots on opposite ends of ur couch, ur about to break the silence when

BOOM

a huge clap of thunder goes off and u pull ur blanket over ur head

bucky hears ur quick breathing

and suddenly u feel his weight shift closer to u

then the weight of his arm around ur shoulders

bucky is still readjusting to civilian life but something like muscle memory kicks in from the times he would care for steve

“it’s okay y/n, i’m here” “ur not alone”

u pull the blanket back and bucky sees ur watery eyes and tear stains on ur checks

and this old man baby is so god damn in love with u

bc his heart breaks seeing u sad and scared like this

“i’m sorry bucky, i’m fine really!”

“u don’t look fine”

“i can take care of myself”

bucky says the same words he once said to steve

“thing is, u don’t have to”

ur about to defend urself again when another boom of thunder goes off and ur body, almost instinctively, shoves itself into buckys chest

bucky moves his arm around ur shoulder to ur back, rubbing small circles

and he places his other hand on ur head pulling u closer to him, smoothing ur hair back over and over to help calm u

u guys have never been this close before and yet it doesn’t feel close enough for either of u

u can hear his soft hums and him telling u over and over that ur okay bc he’s here for u

eventually the storm settles down but u guys remain cuddled up on the couch

u pull ur head back from bucky’s chest and look up at him

bucky literally almost has the wind knocked out of him bc of how beautiful he thinks u are

“u wanna watch a movie?”

bucky smiles and nods before pulling u close to him again and leaving a gentle kiss on ur forehead, almost like he’s done it a million times before

neither of u expected that to happen and both of ur faces are bright red but luckily neither one of u can tell bc of the dim lighting in ur apartment

“i’m gonna go grab the snacks u brought”

u needed an excuse to leave before he could notice ur blushing

u guys settle in for a movie night, which u’ve had plenty before but never snuggled up like this

ur legs are on bucky’s lap and his left arm is wrapped around ur shoulder while his right arm rests on ur legs

neither of u are paying attention to the movie bc ur both too focused on how the other person’s body feels so close to urs

after debating urself in ur head for 20 minutes u muster up enough courage to grab his hand and hold it in urs

bucky freezes and then turns to look at u

u smile with rosy cheeks back as u look into his steel blue eyes

“thank u for today”

bucky is now beet red (shy baby boy!!!) with a soft smile on his face

“i’ll always be here for u, anything at all”

u give him a soft kiss on the cheek and u pull back only to feel bucky’s metal hand pull u back in

this time for a kith on the lips!!!!!!

it’s a soft, light kiss

when he pulls back he instantly feels like he misread some signal or something (shy bucky🥺) and immediately starts to profusely apologize

“i’m- i’m so sorry was that okay?? i should have asked u first—“

“bucky, BUCKY!”

u take both of ur hands and cup his face

“that was more than okay”

u smile at him and bucky could feel his head spinning bc ur just the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen

and he kisses u again

and suddenly ur not so scared of the storm outside bc u have bucky here with u

#bucky fic #bucky headcanon #bucky barnes headcanon #imagine #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #guys i don’t write but i just wanted to get this off my chest pls b kind #soft!bucky #tfatws!bucky #friends to lovers #shy!bucky #baby boy bucky #bucky x gn!reader #bucky barnes x gn!reader

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avengers-age-of-fanfics · 3 years

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just for you, honeybee (1/?)

pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader, steve rogers x reader (platonic!)

word count: 3,172

warnings: a few curse words, bucky being cute, steve being awkward but also a great friend

authors note: hello! this is my first ever post on this account and the first chapter to a new series! im not sure how many chapters this is going to be as i got inspiration to write it a few days ago but im hoping to keep up with it. also, once TFATWS ends, i intend to do a series based on that as well! anywho, i hope you enjoy this and please leave feedback/lmk what i can do to improve! thank u :)

summary: dating back to 1943, you, james barnes, and steve rogers were best friends, including bucky being your boyfriend. when you get a notice that bucky died in the war, you make it your mission to find closure for yourself and protect steve as he is the only remaining piece of bucky you have left. once you are offered the super soldier serum, you and steve must make your way through world war 2 - and the unknown future hardships to come.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes laid across from you on your bed, eyes softly glancing over your features as your hand grazed over his cheek and jawline. You chuckled to yourself, “looking a bit scruffy, Buck.”

He hummed, eyes now fluttering closed at your touch, “thought you liked it, doll.”

With a quick kiss to his lips, you nodded, “oh I do, don’t worry – no reason not to, really.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh before he ran a hand over your cheek, “I gotta get goin’ soon, doll. ‘Uniforms at Becca’s.”

With a sigh, you rolled onto your back and stretched, “she’s a saint, you know, washing and steaming your uniform for you.”

Bucky nodded in agreement with you, “that I do know, honeybee. I’ll meet you at Stevie’s, yeah?”

As you got out of your shared bed, you looked back at Bucky, “of course! Gotta see you off before you go put your life on the line, no big deal.” Bucky quickly dropped the conversation immediately after, understanding how you're feeling.

You weren’t mad at Bucky for joining the army – you couldn’t be, it wasn’t his fault. He was drafted and you knew that if he could stay, he would; and you knew you were being slightly immature about him leaving. You just wanted more time with him. So many people you knew had received letters that their loved ones hadn’t come back, that they had died in battle. It wasn’t fair, but when was life perfectly balanced?

By the time you got changed and got yourself cleaned up, Bucky was straightening out his shirt before he turned towards you, eyes hesitant. You walked to him, buttoning up his final buttons before you ran your hands over his shirt, “I’ll see you soon, Buck, okay?”

Bucky ran his tongue over his lips, “I know, honeybee. Try to keep Steve out of trouble for the time being, okay?”

You laughed, “I’ll certainly try my best – now get outta here!” With a smack to his ass, Bucky gave you one last kiss before he headed out the door to see his sister, Rebecca. You had asked her to iron Bucky’s uniform before he got sent off to war, wanting him to look his best – but you were sure he would look handsome in anything.

Looking in the mirror, you straightened out your favorite belted Peter Pan collar dress, fit with a pair of white heels; only the best for your Buck. You had begged him multiple times to let you register to become a nurse, in the slight chance of being close to him, but he always responded with the same answer: “I want to make sure I have someone to come home to, doll.”

You’d never tell him, but your heart warmed every time he said that.

Doing one more look-over, you smiled to yourself, grabbing your purse as you headed out the door. Steve’s apartment was only a few blocks away from your own, and honestly, you wanted to spend more time with him before Bucky left. The two were inseparable, and you knew Steve was going to struggle with Bucky being gone – that, and the unknowing if he’ll come back.

With sharp and prideful steps, you made your way across the street, saying hello to familiar faces and grabbing a newspaper from Grover, a vendor along the streets of Brooklyn. He stopped you before you headed off, “heard your boy’s goin’ off to war, y/n. How ya doin’?”

With a soft chuckle, you glanced down at the newspapers in your hands – one for you, Steve, and Bucky while he was on the train. You looked back at Grover, “I could be better, if I’m being honest. But I know he’s doing a good thing, so my silly feelings shouldn’t hold him back, Grove.”

Grover grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “you and your selflessness, just like ya ma. I’m telling yous, y/n, that boy loves you to the moon and back. Ain’t nothing he wouldn’t do for ya; if you asked him to stay, he’d go and fake his death to make sure you two go runnin’ off into the sunset together.”

With a laugh, you pushed the tears back, “and I love him too, Grove – but I can’t ask him to just not go. That just isn’t how it is, you know?”

Grover nodded, “yeah, kid, I know. . .Now get lost, I got customers to deliver these too.”

You glanced down at the stack of newspapers, “I’m headed over to Steve’s, anyone near his you gotta drop them off to?”

The vendor let out a hum and rested his head in his palm, “hmm, I think just Richie and Betty Davis right next to Rogers’ place. They get two, you good carryin’ an extra bundle?”

You gave Grover a look as he held up his hands, “just as fierce as ya mama, too – and being Barnes’ girl, probably the wrong question to ask.”

With a laugh, you held out your stack of papers, “pile them on, Gro. I’ll see you later, alright?” The vendor nodded and shoo’ed you away as you continued your journey to Steve’s apartment. Once you arrived, you left two newspapers on his neighbor’s doorstep, knocking once as you crossed back over to Steve’s.

As the Davis’ door opened, you knocked on Steve’s, already hearing rustling inside. Betty was at her door, “y/n? That you, sweetheart?”

With a turn, you greeted Mrs. Davis with a smile, “hi Mrs. Davis, how are you? How are the kids?”

The woman smiled back, “’mm, they’re good – always askin’ when the next batch of those delicious brownies are coming!”

You laughed and noticed Steve had opened the door, small statute waiting until you were done talking with Betty, “I’ll drop them by the next time I get to bakin’, Mrs. Davis. I’ll see you!” You waved to her, as did Steve, as he stepped aside to let you in.

Steve looked at the newspapers, then back at you, “you look great, y/n. . . Looks like I’ll be tellin’ Buck to shut his mouth when he sees you.”

You chuckled, “’cus he’ll catch flies or the obscenities he’ll be sayin’?”

Steve let out a laugh, “both, definitely both.”

Now that you both were in the safehouse of his apartment, you finally got a good look at your little army-hopper. He spotted a new black eye and a small cut on his cheek, yet he still looked as if he could go again if he wanted to. You nodded towards him, “where’d you get into a scuffle at this time?”

He shifted his feet until he let out a sigh, “behind a theatre. They were showin’ commercials for the army and some guy just started saying stuff.”

With a bite of your cheek, you sat down on one of his chairs, “so you had to fight him?”

“Just gotta be one of the good guys in the neighborhood, y/n.”

“I know, Stevie.”

An hour had passed and, in the meantime, you and Steve enjoyed some tea and tried to complete your own crossword puzzles. A small conversation had taken place between the two of you, talking about plans once Bucky was off fighting the war. You had talked about Steve moving in with you, but he was always so stubborn, wanting to prove that he could live on his own. You never thought that he couldn’t, but it could be a money saver.

One more glance at the clock, you figured it would be almost time for Bucky to show up. And, just like that, a knock was heard from the door and you smiled, getting up to answer it as Steve stayed back, grumbling at the pieces of paper in his hands. Opening the door, you saw your James Buchanan Barnes standing tall and proud in his new uniform.

Bucky whistled, glancing over your outfit as you did the same to him, “you look gorgeous, honeybee – even though I told you to not dress up.”

He stepped inside the apartment as you crossed your arms, “I mean, Steve agrees that this is kind of a big deal, so I think a nice dress will suffice.”

Steve and Bucky clasped hands and Bucky nudged his shoulder, “thought you were supposed to be a good influence on my girl, Steve.”

The smaller man shrugged, “kind of is a big deal.”

Bucky shuffled his feet, “yeah, well, I don’t want it to be. Let’s just go to the future and then see me off, alright?” The three of you stood in silence, light tension hanging in the air. With a sigh, you grabbed your purse, “well, off we go! C’mon now, boys.”

Bucky, you, and Steve headed to New York World’s Fair, hooked arms leading towards Howard Stark’s Expo. With bright lights, fireworks, and amazing technology surrounding you, your eyes failed to see Bucky staring at you with so much adoration. He never wanted to leave you – he’d stay if he could – but he had been drafted. All he wanted to do was stay in Brooklyn with you and Steve, and just never leave your arms. Hell, really, wherever you went, he went.

But that wasn’t the case in this scenario.

With a hand on your waist, Bucky looked up at Stark’s presentation of his repulsor technology with a flying car, head shaking in disbelief. While his car may have only hovered for a few seconds, the idea of not even needing to touch the ground to drive absolutely boggled your mind. During the presentation, Steve glanced up at you two and silently snuck off, hoping you didn’t notice his absence for too long. But he knew you and how observant and protective you were.

However, once you glanced around after a few minutes and found Steve in front of an army poster within the United States Armed Services Recruitment center. Squeezing Bucky’s hand, you slightly pulled him towards where Steve was, trying his best to fit his head within the frame.

With a slight push of his shoulder, Bucky nodded his head towards the Expo, “come on, we’re goin’ dancing – and hopefully find yourself a girl.”

Steve shook his head, “you – uh – you go ahead, I’ll catch up later.” He looked around, trying to divert the conversation between him and his best friend.

“Steve,” you started, “please? Just this one night?”

Bucky held your hand as he looked back at Steve, “you’re really gonna do this again?”

“I just – guys, it’s a fair, I’ll try my luck,” he started, looking between you both.

Beside you, you felt Bucky grow agitated, “that’s who, Steve from Ohio?”

“Bucky,” you said, squeezing his hand once more, “let him try one more, okay? We can go dancing and Steve will catch up later. If he doesn’t, I’ll hang his head on my wall like a prize.”

The boys let out a chuckle as Steve continued, “one last time, alright? I promise I’ll come later on – Mac’s, right?”

You nodded your head as Bucky sighed beside you, “don’t think you got to prove anything, Steve.” A small pause came over the three of you as Bucky continued, “don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

You started to walk back with Bucky, letting go of his hand as he continued his conversation with Steve as he let out a small laugh, “how can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” You held up a finger at Steve, “you better mean that about himself, Rogers.”

Steve held up his hands, “yes ma’am! And Bucky –“

Bucky turned around once more to his best friend, “don’t win the war until I get there.” With a mock salute, Bucky dragged you back towards the Expo as you waved back at Steve, making sure he’d meet you at the bar before your boyfriend was shipped off.

With a sigh, Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he kissed your head, “that punk is gonna get himself in all loads of trouble, honeybee.”

You held his hand that was around your shoulder, “I’ll keep Stevie in his place. Seriously, Buck, try not to worry about him.”

“I just,” Bucky gripped your hand, “I don’t wanna come back to nothing, you know? Steve’s my best friend and if he somehow gets himself killed here or in the war, I don’t know what I’d do.”

You pulled Bucky to a stop, putting your hands on his cheeks, “James, look at me, please.” With soft eyes, Bucky looked into yours, “I promise you, Steve is going to be okay – he won’t do anything stupid, at least without me. We’re going to be okay, and you will, too. . .’cus if you aren’t, I may go and kill Hitler myself.”

Bucky chuckled, “I don’t doubt that for a minute, sweetheart. I love you, you know that, right?”

You leaned up, kissing Bucky softly before pulling back, hands tight on your waist, “I love you too. Now C’mon, I wanna go to Mac’s and celebrate my newfound freedom.”

Bucky groaned and pulled you even closer, “maybe I should tell Steve to keep an eye on you.”

With a mock salute of your own, you giggled at your boyfriend, “aye, sir, my new mission is to protect Steven Grant Rogers from being an idiot!”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, “toughest job in this whole war, honeybee.”

As the night continued on, Steve actually showed up to Mac’s and had a new look in his eyes.

‘Hmm,’ you thought to yourself, ‘looks like I gotta ask him about something later.’

Steve, you, and Bucky didn’t drink, but instead enjoyed each other’s company before Buck was shipped off; this really only included Bucky and Steve making fun of each other and you keeping the boys in line. Laughs and a few smacks on the head filled the atmosphere, but you knew it wouldn't last long.

By the time it was nearing close to Bucky’s train departure, the three of you took to the streets and headed to the train station, silence enveloping you. Bucky’s hand was wrapped tightly around yours as you dreaded this goodbye, even if you had high hopes he’d return to you and Steve.

At the sight of the train and fellow troops heading into their cabins, Bucky turned to Steve, “you take care of yourself, alright punk? I don’t want any letters from my girl telling me that you’ve been actin’ out.”

Steve shoved his shoulder, “you’re acting like I’m 12 years old again. I’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky nodded, but looked to his best friend, “and Steve?”

Steve held his breath but let go, “yeah, Bucky?”

“Please take care of her.”

Steve glanced back at where you stood, picking your nails as your anxiety was pricking at your skin. He nodded, “I will.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief, “thank you, pal. I love her, so make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid either, okay?” Steve nodded in response.

Bucky then headed over to where you were standing, his eyes raking over your beautiful dress, your heels, and most importantly, your face. He did not want to forget a single thing about you or your features – he wanted them committed to memory. With a gentle hand, Bucky tilted your chin up towards him, “you alright, honeybee?”

You nodded, too afraid to use your voice as tears flooded your eyes. Trying to dry them up anyway, you nodded once more, unable to look at Bucky. He sighed, “c’mere, sweet girl, I got you.”

With no hesitation, you fell into Bucky’s arms, tears threatening to fall as you felt his hands rest upon your back and your head. You sniffled, “I’m going – I’m going to miss you so much, Jamie – so, so much.”

Bucky kissed your head, “I’m gonna miss you too, sweetheart. Don’t you dare think that I won’t for a second. You’ll be the first thing on my mind every second of the day.”

You breathed, “can living through this war be the first thing on your mind? And maybe completing a crossword puzzle?"

Bucky let out a small laugh but held you tighter, “just for you, honeybee.” Pulling back, he wiped away stray tears that threatened to fall from your eyes, a soft smile on his face. “You’re gonna be alright, and I’ll be comin’ home to you in no time.”

You nodded, a few tears slipping free from your eyes as you looked up at Bucky, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks and light stubble. You slowly traced over his lips, his nose, and his eyebrows, committing everything about him to memory. With a small smile, you leaned up, catching him in a kiss once more, “stay safe, you hear me? And take this damn thing with you - maybe you'll complete it." With gentle hands, you handed him the newspaper you had gotten today.

He carefully took the newspaper from you, already hoping the crossword puzzle would be easy this time around. Then, Bucky pecked your lips before he headed towards the train, “gotta come back for my best girl. I love you!”

As he stepped onto the train and hung out the window of a cabin, he continued yelling, “I love you, y/n l/n! I love you!”

You cried, a bright smile on his face, “I love you too, James Buchanan Barnes!” Blowing kisses towards him, both you and Steve watched as the train slowly started to pull away, seeing him mindlessly hand his ticket to the worker, not bothering to tear his eyes away from you or his best friend.

“I love you!” he shouted once more, all before his train sped up, leaving you and Steve behind on the platform.

Wiping your eyes and your nose with a cloth, you cleared your throat and turned to Steve, “gah, sorry. Let’s uhm – do you want to head back to my place?”

Steve nodded towards you, “yeah, yeah that sounds good. You alright?” He hooked your arm with his as you headed out of the station, continuing to wipe your eyes. “Yeah,” you started, “I’m okay. I knew this was coming. . . I guess I just hated the whole ‘saying goodbye,’ you know?”

Your best friend rubbed the back of his neck, “I get it, y/n, but he’ll come back – he has a reason to, and that’s you.”

Your heart fluttered, and tears welled up in your eyes once more. With a quick sniffle, you reached into your purse and grabbed your key, unlocking your door to your apartment. Once inside, you quickly got to making tea for you and Steve, something to get your minds off of your missing puzzle piece.

Once tea was made and you both were sitting in your living room, you turned to him, “tell me, Stevie. Please.”

Steve looked at you, a confused look etched upon his face, “tell you what?”

You leaned back into your chair, picking at your nails once more, “what happened at the recruitment office? I’ve known you long enough to see that there’s something you’re not telling me, there’s something in your eyes, Stevie, so please, just tell me.”

Steve seemed shocked that you were able to read him like that, but was defeated. With a sigh, he turned and reached into his handbag, pulling out a file, “there was this Doctor there, Doctor Erskine, who uh – he approved me for the army, y/n. But it’s for an experiment, something they call a super-soldier experiment, I’m not sure. But, I’m going – I leave in a couple days.”

How is your world falling apart this quickly?

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

Steve Rogers, The Man On Fire

Hey y'all, as Pride month draws to a close I would like to post this fic. It's been in my drafts for a month and I finally today found the motivation to finish it. This is special to me for many reasons, one of which being that I'm proudly a part of this community. Some of the anger written in is my own. I think a lot of people will resonate with it. I really hope you all enjoy this and happy Pride Month <3

This was based loosely off a headcannon and once I re-find it I will credit!

Synopsis: Steve is freshly thawed, queer, and pissed | A.k.a. Steve's experience in 21st Century America

Characters: Steve Rogers, Mentions of Bucky Barnes, (loosely a Stucky fic but Steve thinks he's dead here)

Warnings: Angst but not bad, Steve Rogers being volatile and chaotic (we love), poorly written accents (I literally read this with an accent in my head), literally a 2k monologue

Word count: 5.1k

Steve Rogers came out of the ice angry.

No— not angry— Steve Rogers came out of the ice fuckin’ furious.

He came out of the ice with his hands curled into two fists, with his jaw clenched so hard his teeth were liable to snap, and with a bone to pick with every damn reporter and historian and too loud opinion on this side of the Brooklyn Bridge.

He came out simmering— no, erupting— like the serum in his blood couldn’t keep his body from hibernation all those years ago but it sure as hell won’t keep him from setting the entirety of New York on fire now. He’ll burn it all down if he has to and rebuild it the way he remembers it— the way Bucky would have remembered it— and at the end of it all no one— not the bigots or deniers or the homophobes that seem to be the only thing that came with him from the forties— will be able to say that Captain America can’t love whoever he wants.

No one will be able to say that Steve Rogers didn’t love James “Bucky” “the man I’ve loved since twelve years old” Barnes with everything he had and then some.

No one.

So he starts with the museums in Washington— because sure it isn’t New York but where else would a relic like himself belong more?

He still has hope when he enters the building. They didn’t make them like this when he was a kid— they had science fairs in the town hall and culture fairs in the backstreets near the docks but never anything this grand. No tall marble pillars or enough stairs to make him wonder if he would have been able to climb to the top when he was half the size he is now. It’s strange. It’s kind of wonderful. Yeah, the Smithsonian museums make Steve Rogers feel small for the first time in a very long time and that gives him hope.

That hope doesn’t last long, though, because soon he’s wandering through the halls, following the signs that say Captain America: The First Avenger— what the hell is an Avenger? Is that what they’re calling soldiers these days? Now he feels small and old.

Turning the corner is like landing on another planet, one devoted entirely to him. His picture is everywhere he looks, his name is in lights, even his damn uniform has been replicated and presented on a little stage and he hates it. The rage is back, sparking at his fingers— he’s a match and lucky for everyone this building is made of stone because if it wasn’t he’s sure it would be reduced to nothing but ash by now.

It only worsens as he begins reading through the plaques and the paragraphs flashing across screens on the walls— he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that. The more he reads, though, the more he wonders if the stone is really, truly safe from the fire in his blood. He doesn’t think it is.

He surely isn’t at least— he feels like he’s going to explode. This isn’t him— none of this is him. War hero. Martyr. Golden boy. He has to stop reading that plaque— clearly no one did their research. Clearly no one dug up his medical files— or his police records. Brawls at the pub, disorderly conduct behind Mr. De Luca’s sandwich shop, public nudity at the beach that one time— thank you Bucky for the best night of his god damn life. Golden boy— ha.

Golden nobody with the black eye and broken hand is more like it.

For a moment he thinks he’s fine— he thinks it can’t get worse than this. Then he gets to the early life section and for an even longer moment his tongue tastes like gunpowder.

Steven Grant Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his friend James Buchanan Barnes—

He can’t bring himself to finish the sentence— not when they already got the most important part wrong. Friend. Friend? No, no, no. No! There are a million words in the english language that Steve could use to describe Bucky and ‘friend’ will never be the first one.

How about best friend?

How about partner in crime?

How about soulmate who loved Steve so much that every night for the past forty-eight days since he woke up in an era that Bucky doesn’t exist in he’s cried himself to sleep with the same cherry cola taste of his ‘friend’ on his tongue.

It’s the final straw— Steve loses it.

“Anyone got a marker?”

The museum is quiet before he speaks but when his voice— steadily rising and taking on that New York headiness that his troops used to jazz him about— cuts through the exhibit— his fuckin’ exhibit— it’s silent. It’s dead, almost as dead as Buck— Nobody dares move a muscle as he rips his ball cap off his head and throws it at the statue of himself. Everyone knows who he is— everyone is going to know who he is so help him god.

“I said—” he tries again— “does anyone have a marker?”

It takes a moment for the people around him to pick their jaws up off the floor and he allows them that moment with a smug grin starting to tug on the corners of his lips. Finally— they’re starting to get it.

He’s not a hero; he’s a supernova of every scrawny, queer kid who’s ever gotten beaten to a pulp for kissing who they want.

Maybe then it’s fitting that the marker— when it’s finally produced and placed in his waiting palm— comes from a teenage girl with a shaved head and a blue, pink, and purple denim jacket and a busted lip. She doesn’t say much— only a mumbled here you go— but her eyes say everything that her words don’t. Give em’ hell, Cap. For the first time since waking up he flashes a genuine grin back— yeah, this one’s for you kid.

Steve wastes no time uncapping the sharpie— he’ll look that one up later— and scratching out the error. The blasphemy to his unholy name. It takes him a little longer to decide what to write in its place. There are a million words, sure, but somehow none of them feel right at this moment. None of them are enough. That’s something he’ll have to come to terms with later, though— how much nothing feels like enough anymore without Bucky.

Finally Steve settles on a word and he scribbles it as neatly as he can given the fact that he hasn’t had to write anything in eighty years. When he takes a step back, feeling alive for the first time since waking up, he beckons over the girl with the shaved head and points to the place where he’s taken it upon himself to correct history.

“Hey kid, why don’t you go ahead and read that outloud for everyone here.”

He allows another moment— this time because she deserves the time it takes for her eyes to light up and the smile to stretch across her bruised mouth.

Steve laughs— a rusted, croaky laugh; another first in forever— when her head whips around, facing him as she loudly proclaims: “It says boyfriend. Steve Rogers grew up in the streets of Brooklyn alongside his boyfriend Bucky Barnes!”

“Damn right I did—” he mutters to the kid before taking a step towards the crowd of gaping mouths. “Did you all hear that? Don’t worry if ya’ didn’t— I’ll say it one more time. Boyfriend. Bucky was my boyfriend and if he was here today he would be my husband. If any of you have a problem with that then feel free to take it up with me. I took on half of Brooklyn for that man and I’ll do it again.”

When no one says anything Steve nods, turning to hand the girl back her marker and to thank her— he may be angry but he hasn’t lost all his manners— but when he looks at her she doesn’t look back. Instead she takes the same step forward that he had, one of her hands balled into a tiny, shaking fist at her side and the other wrapped around a cell phone that’s pointed towards the crowd. He doesn’t understand the mechanics but he thinks she’s recording.

“You hear that?” She parrots the super soldier with a wavering but fierce voice. “Captain America likes men! And none of you can deny it!”

This time it’s his mouth that drops, watching as she shakily turns the camera off and spins back around. Before Steve can say anything, though, she’s talking again, this time hastier, and he can’t help but think that she sounds so much like him. All flushed and scrawny and pissed.

“I’m sorry, I’ll delete the recording if you want but, I jus’ know these bigots are gonna’ try and cover everything up and that would be a fuckin’ shame. I don’t know if you know how many kids need to hear this. I did— and I think they should too. Only if you want, of course.”

He doesn’t answer right away— he can’t. It’s like looking at himself at fifteen. Suddenly he’s back again, his feet hanging in the water as his boyfriend paces behind him, asking if he’s ready to have him look at his knuckles yet. He didn’t get that many good punches in— the scrapes are mostly from the pavement— but Buck always worries too much so it doesn’t matter. The protective idiot.

Steve shakes his head, blinking away the sunset lingering behind his eyes. “Bucky woulda’ loved you, kid.”

The next time he loses it— the next time he turns into more flame than man— is after he saves the city he’s been trying to burn down for three months.

It isn’t long after that day in the museum when Nick Fury decides it would be best for everyone if Steve goes back into the field. Of course, no one really asks him what he wants— they pretty much just shove a new suit into his hands and tell him to get training, Captain— but what else is new?

No one really comments on his outburst besides that either. Can you really call it an outburst when you’re just trying to reclaim the parts of you that have been stolen? Sure, the press gets a hold of the story and, true to what the kid had said, tries to twist it into something more digestible, but no one actually addresses it up with Steve. Apparently when someone saves the world as good as he does no one cares that they kiss men.

Or that they don’t wanna’ to actually save the world anymore.

See, in those three months— between the training and training and even more training that Steve Rogers begrudgingly obliges— he has time to catch up on the world. More importantly, he has time to catch up on what the world thinks of him. He scours a plethora of documentaries, scholarly essays, and whole books of information about his time as Captain America. Well— his time as Captain America when it mattered. In all his scouring he learns one thing: everything written about him is wrong.

It’s all so fuckin’ wrong.

Just why the hell would he want to save a world so bent on destroying who he is?

The Smithsonian exhibition was nothing compared to what’s been written in the eighty years he spent in the ice. Better yet, nothing compared to what hasn’t been written about him. They’ve taken an eraser to every part of his life that doesn’t fit with the golden image that they constructed for him. A.k.a. every part that matters. His relationship, his past, every little thing that made him supposedly perfect for the role he was given. Gone. Erskine told him he was a good man— apparently he was the only one who thought so.

Apparently being a good man isn’t good enough.

They only wanted the perfect soldier. Yeah, well, they had one and they fucked him over too. Don’t even get him started on what they did to Bucky— Steve doesn’t want to think about what Winnifred— Winnie for short— Barnes would do if she saw the history books erasing her baby’s Jewish roots. Or his relationship. It wouldn’t be pretty, that’s for damn sure. If ever there was someone more protective than Bucky it would have been his mother. Not that there’s a damn note about her in anything either though.

Maybe that’s the final straw that does him in this time— watching the place that Mrs. Barnes loved more than almost anything else in the world crumble, while also knowing that the world no longer gives a shit about the two people she loved more.

“Mr. Rogers, this is where you grew up, is it not? Is there anything you would like to say about what took place here in your home city today?”

Maybe he pretends not to hear the last part— maybe he really does only hear up until where the reporter asks him if there is anything he wants to say. He’s been around quite his fair share of explosions; it would make sense that his hearing is a little off. Maybe he just doesn’t care anymore, though.

Scratch that— he definitely doesn’t care anymore.

And why the fuck should he? He does have something to say and propriety be damned he’s going to say it.

Steve stares into the crowd of faceless reporters and flashing cameras with a scowl on his grimey face. Around him stand the other Avengers— his ‘team’. The last time he had a team the historians screwed up the history for every single member. Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Dernier, Sawyer, Juniper, Pinkerton. Barnes. All of them were brave men with families and sacrifices and all of them were treated like jokes by ‘reporters’ just like the ones in front of him now. He really doubts there’s a difference between old and new journalism.

The only difference is that now he’s here and this time he’s not going to let them write anything but the damn truth.

“It is—” Steve muses, brushing the sweaty hair from his forehead— “I’m surprised you know that though.”

The reporter cocks his head, clearly confused, and it makes the super soldier’s blood boil. “Come again, sir?”

“I said I’m surprised you know where I was born, kid.” This time when he says the word— kid— it’s derogatory. “Ya’ know, considering how you all seem to know nothing about me otherwise.”

Steve almost smiles at the way the crowd tenses. He actually would if it weren’t for the white hot rage coursing through his veins, mingling with the last of the adrenaline leftover in his system. It gives him an extra kick— not that he needs it. Even when he was just a runt from the wrong side of the tracks he needed nothing more than an offhand comment to raise his fists. Fighting to Steve Rogers has always been intoxicating— the aftershocks of winning the battle just makes it more thrilling now.

Who knew, right?

“Sir I asked—” The reporter sputters and Steve simply holds a hand up, silencing him before he can start again.

“Yeah I know what you asked, alright. You want me to talk about the battle here in New York today and how I am more than happy to have risked my life to save it. But I can’t do that, kid. Because I didn’t save it for you. I didn’t save it for any of you.”

Steve feels his team tense— maybe were it any other time he would stop talking. He would just leave it, let the issue go, because Bucky would tell him too. They aren’t worth it, bruiser, he would say, they aren’t worth your blood. Maybe he would listen to his boyfriend because usually he was right. Bucky was always right. So yeah, maybe he would list—

Who is he kidding; he knows he wouldn’t.

Not then and certainly not now— not when Bucky isn’t here to defend himself against everything Steve has been reading about. That’s exactly why he doesn’t stop talking. Someone has to defend him and who better of a person than him? So, yeah, he keeps going, even when he hears footsteps behind him.

“You wanna’ know who I did save it for? James Barnes, that’s who I saved it for! You see, just around that corner there is a bookstore. Rickley Books. That was my boyfriend's favourite bookstore. You know, the man who gave his life to stop a train in Austria from reaching the enemies? Yeah that was him. That train was filled with supplies. Had it reached their headquarters, who knows if we’d be standing here today. If there would be a New York at all. Not that you would know that. But who cares about that dead sergeant from the 107th, right? There’s plenty just like him.”

Steve shrugs nonchalantly— a move he picked up from the very man he’s speaking about— but he spits his words at the reporters with enough venom to cancel out any peace that the action brings. That’s his own move.

He keeps going. “You know who else I saved it for? His mother. Yeah, his mother Winnie Barnes. Wonderful lady. She used to run a soup kitchen a couple blocks from here. Kept the rift raft like myself from going hungry most nights— I was a brawler, you know.”

A couple of reporters in the crowd laugh at that and Steve flinches, his vision tinting red as he cranes his neck, seeking them out.

“Oh you think that’s funny, do you? You think I’m joking? I’m not. You ever been backed into a corner, son? Had people hurl slurs at you that I can’t even repeat today? Ever been beaten up for loving your best friend? No, I bet you haven’t. You weren’t a queer kid in the thirties. That’s hard— that’s borderline impossible actually. I only made it because of people like Winnie Barnes. That woman was a saint but nobody talks about her either.”

Steve has to take a deep breath, clearing the rasp in his voice that rises as he dwells on the woman he called his second mother for so long. She wasn’t just a saint, she was an angel. He can’t cry here though, not now. Not even as his throat begins to tighten.

“Winnie was the type of lady who didn’t let anyone walk over the little people. She used to sit me down and say Stevie you gotta’ fight for what you want because ain’t nobody gonna’ give it to you. She told me that I shouldn’t have to but that there were going to be people who would try to tear me down just for being me. And she was right— just like her son— because that was the era, you know? But now, here in the twenty-first century, you’re all still trying to tear us down.”

A hand lands on his shoulder, small fingers tugging at where his suit has begun to tear. Natasha Romanoff. He meets her gaze quickly, neck craning to stare down the red head, and in the few seconds their eyes meet it’s like Bucky is next to him. Somehow the blue in her irises catches the falling sun just like his used to. Steve can hear the gruff of his voice in the depths of his mind. Back down, bruiser. The sentiment is echoed across Nat’s face.

Steve shakes her hand off him, turning back to the reporters— don’t they know that he can’t?

“You all say you care about me, huh? That I’m a hero? You know nothing about me— you don’t want to. Before I was a soldier I was a kid. A queer kid. I said that already but let me repeat it. Queer. Did you write that down? None of you certainly did before. That’s how I know that you don’t care— because in an age where being queer is infinitely more accepted you still don’t bother to write it down.”

He pauses for another breath, shutting his eyes against the blinking red lights of the cameras. They’re like little demons, always watching his every move. Recording. Everything’s always recorded these days. Will he ever be used to that? Bucky was the technology guy, not him. Not then and not now.

When Steve picks up again— eyes open and shoulders freshly straight— it’s on a new note— a clear note.

“You don’t care about me— you certainly don’t care about the real heroes of the war because if you did you wouldn’t erase our history. Do you know how much it would have meant to Bucky to see our relationship accepted? The man who died for you? How much it would’ve meant to his mother? You can’t just pick which of our stories and our sacrifices are worthy and which aren't.”

He hasn’t spoken this much since he’s woken up, not all at once at least. Maybe he should have, though— maybe if he had then he wouldn’t feel like ripping the heads off everyone in front of him right now. Call it fight or flight. Call it revenge. Hell, call it whatever you’d like because it doesn’t really matter. Either way he feels like a kid again— again— backed into a corner behind the deli with his fists up and his teeth bared.

He feels feral again.

“So now you just want me to save the world like I did— like Bucky did— all those years ago— or maybe jus’ New York— as if that’s any better— and you don’t even bother to write a proper article about me? Hell, I never even asked for an article, let alone a whole exhibit! I’m just a soldier— and before that I was just a kid. If there’s never another article written about me I’ll be grateful. But now that I’m here, standing in front of you, I’ll say this—”

Just as Steve’s voice is cresting into a shout that would no doubt be heard regardless of whether or not the microphones were in front of him, Natasha tries one more time, her fingers slipping between his.

Her voice is a dull buzz compared to his, only reaching his ears by sheer will. “C’mon Stevie— we gotta’ go now.”

Like before he’s stunned but this time instead of seeing Buck— instead of hearing him in his head— he hears Winnie.

You fought good, honey. You fought good for us. You can rest now.

It’s jarring and it’s not lost on him the handful of awkward seconds that it takes for him to respond. That’s just the effect Winnie had on people though— still has, apparently. Steve shakes his head— I know, mama. But I gotta’ finish this fight.

“No, Nat— I’ve got to say this.” Steve mumbles— voice just beginning to waver despite how hard he clenches his jaw— before sneering at the crowd one last time.

“If I ever read an article from any of you that discredits Bucky Barnes, our relationship, or myself just know that I’ll come for you. I’ll come for this city. Don’t you ever forget who I saved it for. James Barnes, Winnie Barnes, and every queer kid who’s ever felt erased because of people like you. The bigots in the forties couldn’t stop me. The Nazis couldn’t stop me. Not even the Atlantic Ocean could stop me. So don’t think for a second that any of you could either. Have a good day.”

With that Captain America turns, marching off the impromptu stage and beginning the trek back to his apartment. He doesn’t bother looking at his team as he passes them— he can imagine their stunned faces well enough on his own. No doubt he’ll be getting another assignment from Fury soon enough to make up for this ‘outburst’ too. Still, he feels a little bit better. There’s an ache in his shoulder, and one under his ribs too, but he still smiles as he passes Rickman and Sons Books. That must mean something good.

The last time Steve Rogers burns he doesn’t burn the way he’s expecting to— he doesn’t vandalize his own name or blow up at a reporter. No, the third time— the final time— that Steve Rogers burns it’s with nostalgia— and with a damn good cup of coffee in his hand.

“I had no idea this place was even here.” The girl across from Steve muses, tiny hands shifting the steaming cup back and forth.

Her name is Ellie, he learned that back at the museum after asking for a copy of the video she took. He barely knew how to use his phone back then, let alone his email— hell, both still confuse him more often than not— but she had been patient. A little awestruck and a little riled up too but he took it in stride— easily. It’s not hard being nice to the spitting image of him.

“I’m glad I’m good for something other than making the news.” Steve chuckles and this time he means it— there’s no malice or ill intent, only humor. “O’Malley’s ‘s been here longer than I have. Looked a little different then—” he takes a moment to let his eyes wander the old coffee shop and it’s new appliances— a moment to feel his age catch up to him— “but I guess I did too.”

Ellie’s laughter joins in there and it’s strange— strange that he hasn’t laughed with another person in seven, almost eight, months; strange that her laughs sound so much like Bucky’s when they were younger; strange that Bucky isn’t here to hear. Here to laugh, too. Because he would have.

He would have called Steve an old man, would have wrapped his arm around his shoulders, would have asked— no, demanded— that Ellie try the plum cobbler. They always made the best cobbler. Bucky always had the best laugh. All grit and breath and him. Steve feels warm just thinking about it.

“Well thanks for letting me in on the secret, I’ll make sure to guard it carefully.” She even has Bucky’s warm sarcasm.

Maybe it’s not so much like looking in a mirror as it is looking at what he wishes he and his boyfriend could have been back then.

“And thanks for letting me interview you—” Ellie continues, setting the cup down but not before nodding at it, her eyes wide— “wow. You weren’t kidding about the joe, huh? Anyway— thanks for scheduling this. I know you’re probably super busy— and that there are more well established people you could have gone to.”

Steve sets his own mug down too— if he hadn’t there’s a possibility it would be more puddle than porcelain. “Well established means nothin’, kid. Not when you don’t have heart. They’re parasites, all of ‘em. The press couldn’t care less about me.”

Ellie nods, lifting the lid of her laptop. It’s a little bit dented and slathered in stickers, not quite the newest model— he would know, he has the newest one and it’s still sitting in his apartment in the box. Yet another testament to how little the people around him truly know him.

“Welcome to the twenty-first century, can I get you a side of classism with that commercialism?”

Now she sounds like Winnie too.

“Say, has anyone ever told you that you’re funny?”

She shrugs, tilting her head, a lopsided grin glued to her face. “Once or twice— I never know if they mean it or if they just want me to shut up. I never do so I guess we’ll never know.”

Steve sputters out another laugh because; “I guess we’re the same then— never give them a moment, kid. That’s the best advice I can give you.” He pauses— again— he supposes it’s going to be a day of pausing— he supposes it’s about time he pauses— before adding, “Bucky would’ve scolded me for saying that.”

Ellie’s fingers, swift and deft over the machine— Steve hadn’t even seen her begin to type— pause too as her smile softens. “What would he have said instead?”

Her question shouldn’t catch off guard— this is why he asked her to meet him; to finally, properly write his story— their story. Still he pauses— Steve’s empty hands feel hot, his shoulders warm; bare— what would he have said? It doesn’t take long to hear his boyfriend’s voice, not there but somehow loud in his ear all the same.

Just relax— they aren’t worth it. It’s too nice out to care about anything but the water— are you coming in or not? Summer doesn’t last forever, you know?

It’s impossible but Steve can feel the sun on his back and on his ears again, like he’s there— like he’s back, sixteen and on fire. Those were the days where everything made him cold. The days where his skin burned no matter the season but especially in August which was when the ocean was warm enough to swim in. It never stopped him from joining Buck— nothing could have stopped him. His cheeks warm, too, at the thought.

Steve blinks, his own smile— perhaps a little lopsided in it’s own right— shaping over his mouth. “He would have told you to relax— and to try the plum cobbler. It’s fantastic.”

With another giggle— and a reiterated comment— has anyone ever told you you’re funny, Steve?— they fall into a conversation, just a kid and a relic, about life. It’s not an easy conversation— but then again those kinds never are. It’s real, though, and unedited. Unfiltered. Just the way Erskine and Winnie and Bucky would have liked it— the only way Steve wants it. It’s not perfect but, hell, Steve has never been perfect.

He’s never wanted to be.

Maybe Steve doesn’t know everything his boyfriend would say— and maybe he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t blow up once or twice after today— but he can confidently say that he gave Brooklyn a run for her money— twice— and lived to tell the tale. He can say then when it mattered, he burned. That he still burns. That he will until he doesn’t— until he’s extinguished.

But, hey, though Summer doesn’t last forever, not even the Atlantic could extinguish the flame that is Steve Rogers.

That’s what he writes— in Sharpie— on the card he writes to Ellie— the one attached to the computer he knows he’ll never use.

#Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Stucky #steve x bucky #Queer!steve rogers #Queer!Steve #Queer!Bucky #Queer!Bucky Barnes #Captain America #pride month #Steve angst #steve fluff #Marvel cinematic universe #Mcu #mcu fic #steve fic

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arianajbb · 3 years

Text

FIC RECS - 1

💕 Clueless by @justsomebucky

Movie AU. Inspired by Clueless - A high society boy and a do-gooder-type girl find love.

💕 as you wish, ma’am by @aescapisms

SOCIAL MEDIA AU || Bucky Barnes fucks up and sends you the wrong presentation file.

💕 A Lesson In Love by @buckyywiththegoodhair

(College!AU) In which you’re assigned to write a story about romance, a subject you know nothing about, and Bucky, a hopeless romantic, offers you his assistance.

. 💕 The End Of The War by @redgillan

Everyone knows you and Steve can’t stand each other, but after he runs into you after one of his fights, he starts to see you in a different light.

💕 Babies! Assemble by @honeyloverogers

On a mission involving time travel, as if they haven’t learned at all that it’s dangerous, the Avengers get turned into babies. Including your boyfriend.

💕 Have You Any Wool by @threeminutesoflife

Dinner with Ransom doesn’t go as planned.

💕 Peaches and Plums by @cptnbvcks

After escaping hydra, Bucky finds a pretty peach vendor to work out his troubled mind with.

💕 Stitches by @revengingbarnes

You’re just a clueless new medical student. You’re not equipped to deal with charming, witty, handsome doctors. Especially not ones with pretty blue eyes that make you weak in the knees.

💕 Saturdays by @sunmoonandbucky

Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

💕 Love Made Me Crazy by @sinner-as-saint

It was all strategic; a plan meticulously constructed by you and your business partner; against James Buchanan Barnes. Not to take him down, no. But just to surpass him in the business world by uncovering his secrets; to learn his ways and hope to be better than him in every way possible. The façade you put up – of being close to him and earning his trust was supposed to be short-lived, most importantly; harmless. But then as always, things got a tad bit more complex when feelings intervened…

💕 To Be So Lonely by @wlntrsldler

When Bucky and Y/N signed up for this online pen pal system, they never expected to grow attached to the other person behind the screen. In the pen pal system, they can only unlock the other person’s messages on the 25th of each month. They can write and send off their response as soon as they want but the other person is not able to see it until the 25th.

💕 eye candy by @angelwidow

Being Tony Stark’s receptionist was hard. Working alongside the most gorgeous salesman you’d ever seen was even harder. Actually talking to said salesman? Well, that was just insane.

💕 Strange Times by @beccaanne814

You have a certain type - smart, charming, and handsome as sin. For years you’ve been in love with the only man you thought possessed all of those traits, but a chance encounter with a Strange individual sends you and a certain ex-assassin on a journey of self-discovery. As you try to find a way back home, will you also be able to uncover the perfect man hidden beneath layers of guilt and self-loathing.

💕 Stuck Wit U by @slyyywriting

You and Bucky don’t get along. Your fights have become too destructive so Tony and Steve decide that enough is enough.

💕 Take Me Higher by @buckychrist

Who knew that the way into the big broody super soldier’s heart was through his unmet need for a good cuddle?

💕 x by @mcfreakin-bitch

💕 x by @thejamesoldier

💕 Betrayal by @midnightsunfae

Bucky catches you flirting with someone at a party and he doesn’t take to it very well.

💕 two paper airplanes flying by @feliciahardyn

ransom drysdale will always find you, no matter where you are. always.

💕 Dear Lover by @feliciahardyn

you dance with bucky barnes in the obscurity of your room as you recalled the first time you met and how three years later you ended up tangled in each other’s arms. (based on the song “lover” by taylor swift)

💕 Make You Love Me by @slyyywriting

You flirt with Bucky every single chance you get.

💕 The unseen one by @extremelyblackandwhite

The God of the Underworld falls in love with a mortal.

💕 Hellfire by @chamomilebottom

💕 Promised by @cherienymphe

when you start waking up with bruises you can’t explain, your nightmares turn into a reality.

💕 Everything by @trillian-anders

💕 tell me you own me by @darthstyles

mean daddy harry comes out to play

💕 The Chef’s Strike by @bucky-smiles

A contract went unfulfilled…

💕 Bittersweet Temptations by @revengingbarnes

Y/N Y/L/N loves coffee, always has, which is why she spent all her adult years creating the perfect coffee shop. Cutesy, homey and cozy, it’s the job of her dreams. So what if business has been a little slow lately? It’s her happy place, it would always be. But that was all until the flirty, witty and obnoxious Bucky Barnes opened up a rival coffee shop two blocks down the street. Business and profit are all Bucky cares about. He’s the exact opposite of everything Y/N stands for, and naturally, she can’t stand him. But what happens when Y/N is running the risk of losing her beloved shop and Bucky’s the only one lending her a helping hand?

💕 The Neighbor by @staymay5

💕 came in close by @buckyskorpion

what could possibly go wrong with a couple of good-natured pranks between sworn enemies?

💕 (1) New Message by @yikeswtfmate

One night Wanda and Nat dare Y/N to text her hottest ex. She complies, only to realise it’s not her ex she’s texting and this might be the most attractive man she’s actually laid eyes on.

💕 Eye For An Eye by @sinner-as-saint

Battered and bruising, Y/N is out to seek sweet revenge from a man, James Buchanan Barnes, who tore her family apart 10 years ago. Y/N’s plan was simple; infiltrate his life, mess with his head, toy with his heart and leave him broken. Headstrong, she will stop at nothing, not even when it comes down to her being the villain in her own story…

💕 Under Oath by @ugh-supersoldiers

The people called for justice, the state answered. The trial of State v. Barnes is set to begin, and the odds are most certainly not in favor of the not so beloved ex Winter Soldier. That’s where you come in, the quick, smart, and all too brave lawyer set on defending and saving one Bucky Barnes from legal prosecution. The only problem? He’s not so sure he’s worth saving at all.

. 💕 Hate To Love You by @revengingbarnes

While on her death bed, Y/N’s mother has just one wish; her daughter to be married and settled in her life. It’s something her mother has never stopped pestering her about. But up until now, Y/N had managed to not give into her family’s traditions of arranged marriage. And she might have continued to do so if weren’t her mother’s last desire. Unable to refuse her mother’s desperate plea, Y/N agrees to meet the man her parents have chosen for her. There’s just one tiny problem. Her soon-to-be husband is her ex. More tragically, he’s the one ex she never managed to get over.

💕 Everything by @hootyhoobuckaroo

. 💕 late night devils by @whistlingwillows

Bucky gets revenge on his ex with you, the girl he never got over no matter how much he thought he did.

💕 Safe with Me by @bitsandbobsandstuff

When an unknown threat enters your life, protection is offered at the highest level. As Bucky Barnes comes into your life, the game changes, and you realise falling for the man tasked with keeping you safe is the last thing you expected.

💕 Wildest Dreams by @hopesbarnes

Everyone said he was a bad guy, that he broke hearts. But maybe they were wrong about him.

💕 Things Bucky says during sex. by @steveodinsonbarnes

💕 charming by @venusbarnes

in which you’re a girl in need of protection, and Bucky’s the perfect man for the job.

💕 one stroke and you’ve consumed my waking days by @buckthegrump

Bucky has a pen pal.

💕 Just One Kiss by @sarahwroteathing

Bucky Barnes has been chasing after you since he was ten years old, but you’re determined not to give in. How long can you hold out when all he’s asking for is just one kiss? (40′s happy ending AU)

💕 Come Over by @moonstruckbucky

You’re new to New York City. Fresh out of post-grad and wanting a change of pace, and this change comes in more ways than one.

💕 Even In The Darkest Times by @justauthoring

Bucky x reader where they were together in the forties and when Steve goes back, he sends her into the future so she can be with Bucky while he stays in the past with Peggy.

💕 Hearts Don’t Lie by @daenyara

when y/n and her family have to leave Europe to escape the war, finding love in New York is the last thing she expects (and the last thing that interests her). Much to her annoyance, her parents set her up with the one person in all Brooklyn she cannot stand: the charming James Barnes, who’s decided to show her he’s not as bad as she thinks.

💕 A Bid on Bucky by @samingtonwilson

You spend thousands of dollars at a bachelor auction for Bucky when you could’ve had him for free this entire time.

💕 Helpless For You by @sgtjbuccky

A blind date has lead you and Bucky to the fourth date. Each one proving that you’ve got it bad more than prior and it doesn’t quite matter what will happen - you will keep on falling for that handsome devil and you don’t even mind.

💕 Lavender by @wkemeup

Not every nightmare is the same and Bucky doesn’t always wake up as the man you know.

💕 Fixed by @drawlfoy

draco has a teasing relationship with the reader–they playfully argue and go back and forth but never acknowledge the fact that there may be something more. draco notices her pulling back and becoming more reserved. he follows her out of the dining hall one day to find her having a breakdown over a dark secret.

💕 Anytime by @notimetoblog

Bucky is still cautious when it comes to touching people & vice versa. one day after a mission, the avengers are in the quinjet on their way home, Bucky sat down beside the reader & accidentally falling asleep on her & snuggling her. she doesn’t make it a big deal but all the other members are surprised. just fluff involving soft Bucky.

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buck-buck-boose · 3 years

Text

I'll Love You 'Til I Die

Masterlist | Playlist

Summary: A Brooklyn schoolgirl fell in love with James Buchanan Barnes at the tender age of nine. With this love she made a vow, promising to love him until her very last breath.

Pairing: Bucky x OFC

Warnings: Language, mild violence

Word Count: 4.6k

Author's Note: Big things are happening y'all

Chapter Twenty-One: The Super Soldier

March 19, 1943

Dawn crept up on Camp Lehigh in a thick haze of fog, the chirp of crickets its only whispered greeting. A late-winter frost bloomed across what little grass remained, the majority having been trampled underfoot by platoon after platoon of soldiers. Winter was quickly fading, giving way to a promising spring, but the bitter chill still latched onto those dewy mornings to remind Camp Lehigh’s inhabitants of the cold season they’d just nearly escaped.

Although sessions of training were not due to begin for hours, warm bodies were stirred from slumber in their barracks, meeting the cold, stale air of their poorly-insulated lodgings. The nurse’s barracks was lit by a lamp's dim glow, which splayed a flush of golden light across the room. Five women quietly and nimbly dressed, none of them wishing to break the silence that balanced among them; the early morning was sacred to them, as it seemed to be the only time apart from nighttime in which one could be alone with one’s thoughts.

Lottie deftly pinned her mousy curls beneath her white cap, caring little for their arrangement or appearance. Once upon a time, she’d tamed her curls with gentle finger waves and carefully pinned back strands, desperate to look the part of a fair woman like Ginger Rogers. It was a quieter, more joyful time in which she had the time and desire to put ample effort into her appearance. How simpler life in Brooklyn seemed, in retrospect. She only had to care for Steve or Bucky’s wounds, usually from some street brawl instigated by Steve and ended by Bucky; now she had soldiers to care for. Soldiers who would one day be covered in great, gaping wounds, some so deeply ingrained within their souls that neither the highest of morphine dosages nor the strongest suture could soothe them.

Lottie made swift work of fastening her blue cape around her neck, situating it so that the inner red lining wasn’t peeking out. In her peripherals, Mary smoothed a hand down her white skirt in a weak attempt at combatting its wrinkles while Betty gave her face a once-over in a battered compact that she always seemed to have on her person. Lottie was downright envious of her ever-red lip and sultry gaze, they seemed to turn the heads of all the young privates on base, which earned them more than a few reprimands. It was only a few weeks ago that Betty had explained her reasoning for putting such effort into her physical charm, even in the middle of the war.

“Nurses are supposed to provide comfort, care, right?” She sat across from Lottie at their table in the mess hall, smoke curling from a freshly lit cigarette resting between her fingers. She puffed on the cigarette for a moment and slowly exhaled the smoke, “Well these boys have been stuck in a war for over a year now and they probably haven’t seen a pretty face in a while. They’re probably missing their sweethearts, fiancées, you name it. Either way, they’ve gotta be awful lonely out there, so what’s the harm in being that girl with the pretty face that can make them a little less lonesome?”

Before anyone could raise a question, she continued, “I’m not talking affairs or anything illicit, sometimes they just need a pretty face and a nice voice to remind ‘em of home, to ease that loneliness.”

Betty’s little sermon drew Lottie’s thoughts to Bucky. He was a fiercely loyal man who would stop at nothing to protect or care for his closest companions. For his own sake, Lottie hoped that he’d found a sort of comradery with his fellow soldiers, a bond to strengthen him while they were separated by an ocean. He’d always had a habit of flashing her his trademark grin and ruffling her hair, all while declaring something silly like “You ‘n Steve are all I need, Little Lottie. It’s always gonna be the three of us, ‘til the end of the line.” Lottie could only hope that Bucky had found a bond like theirs with his fellow soldiers as a source of comfort and a respite from loneliness.

“Lottie dear, Dr. Erskine’s waiting for us.”

It seemed that the other nurses had filtered out of the barracks as Lottie was lost in thought. Only Gladys remained, waiting for her expectantly at the doorway. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a tight bun, with her white cap nestled daintily atop her head, held in place with a handful of pins.

“Apologies, Gladys, I’m coming.” Gladys gave her a small smile as she caught up, nerves keeping her from forming her true toothy grin. All the nurses were nervous, to be truthful, as it was a significant day. Their serum was finally being put to use; they had found their first Super Soldier in Steve Rogers.

When Lottie had received the news of his selection to receive the serum, she’d nearly fainted with shock. Steve was a man with a heart of gold, she’d always known that, but it only served to heighten her self-doubt with regards to the serum’s efficacy. If the serum went awry as it did with Schmidt, Lottie wasn’t sure how she would be able to live with herself.

Dr. Erskine and Colonel Phillips’ debriefing as to why Steve had been chosen to become America’s first Super Soldier was a source of comfort, though. The two men had cornered the five nurses outside their barracks right as they were heading inside to turn in for the night.

The scientist had been the first to speak, “Ladies, we wanted to catch you as soon as possible. Colonel Phillips and I have decided upon our candidate for the serum. Private Steve Rogers will report to our facility in Brooklyn promptly at ten hundred hours tomorrow. We will need to depart camp at six hundred hours so we have abundant time to become accustomed to the equipment that will be in use. Mr. Stark will be joining us there.”

Lottie was sure there’d been spots in her vision, the announcement had nearly knocked all the wind out of her.

“I expect you ladies to uphold the same sense of secrecy and vigilance that you’ve had up until this point,” Colonel Phillips interjected, “This is only the beginning of our mission. We must continue to protect Project Rebirth, no matter how hopeless it may seem.” His voice was laced with bitterness, obviously doubtful of Steve’s abilities.

Nancy furrowed her brow, “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but isn’t Private Rogers the ninety-pound asthmatic? Why him and not someone more… reliable, like Private Hodge?”

Lottie bristled slightly, as she did not take kindly to critical remarks regarding her friends.

“Need I remind you that the serum is not focused only on the physical?” Dr. Erskine fixed Nancy with a level gaze, “He is not the most well-built soldier, I admit that. But as you have seen yourself, the serum is capable of incredible cellular change that will only strengthen him. It will also amplify the qualities that he already has inside of himself. He has proven himself to be a good soldier and a worthy recipient of the serum.” Lottie glanced at Colonel Phillips, whose face was twisted into an awkward grimace, though he did not comment.

“During training today, he exhibited qualities of strength and humility that I have yet to see in any other soldiers thus far. Would Private Hodge throw himself over a grenade to protect his fellow soldiers? He showed me today that he would not, but Private Rogers would.”

Colonel Phillips muttered something along the lines of, “Still skinny,” though the bitterness seemed to fade. All of the nurses came to accept the news, trading in their expressions of shock and concern for ones of uncertainty and anxiety. It seemed that reality had hit for all five of the nurses at once; their work had finally come to fruition, making the road ahead even more daunting than before.

There was little conversation in the nurse’s compartment on the train to Brooklyn. There were moments of brief chatter among the women, but they were all too lost in their thoughts to carry on a proper conversation. Lottie shifted in her seat every few minutes, the poorly-cushioned seat providing little comfort during the duration of the train ride. Beside her, Gladys flicked through a stack of paper, which she’d pulled out of a manila folder that had been stamped with the word “Confidential” in large red letters. Ever the levelheaded academic of the group, she’d decided to look over their notes on the serum and its activation procedure one last time.

Across from her, Mary and Nancy were busying themselves with embroidery, an activity that a few of the nurses had picked up to improve their abilities with stitching. Lottie pictured a frayed handkerchief in her mind’s eye, a tattered old thing covered in clumsy pink flowers with a “JBB” monogram stitched carefully onto its corner. She wondered if Bucky had taken it with him overseas. He’d always kept it on his person back in Brooklyn, “Never know when a dame’s gonna go all misty eyed on me,” he’d say, humor in his eyes. There wouldn’t be many women for him to comfort overseas, but maybe he’d need it for his tears someday.

Betty sat to the right of Gladys, scanning the pages of a battered copy of Gone With the Wind. She’d never struck Lottie as a bookworm, but more often than not, she was the last of the women to fall asleep at night, usually engrossed in a novel for an hour or two past lights-out.

Two hours passed uneventfully; its monotony was only interrupted by the transferring from one train to another. Lottie’s heart seemed to pound in her ears as they approached Brooklyn, the tall buildings in her window becoming more and more familiar to her. Her heart swelled at the sight of it; she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the city until she returned after all that time. Of course, she’d been gone from the city for longer while she was in nursing school, but it tugged at her heartstrings even more than before because a damn war was what kept her from her beloved borough.

It wasn’t long before the train had arrived, initiating a flurry of movement out of the train car and toward a car that sat at the curb, waiting for them. All five nurses clambered inside, with Dr. Erskine following behind in his car. The car ride was a short one, though Lottie took the time to observe her surroundings; she wanted so desperately to drink in the familiar alleys and side streets before she had to return to Camp Lehigh, to war.

Their car stopped abruptly in front of a cozy antique shop; one she’d never paid much attention to. Dr. Erskine’s car had arrived just a few moments before theirs, so they followed him inside. Once inside, they were faced with an aged woman, who greeted them with a casual question, though her eyes betrayed a deeper glimmer of suspicion, “Wonderful weather this morning, isn't it?”

Dr. Erskine responded promptly, “Yes, but I always carry an umbrella.”

They were quickly led through a false bookcase, which hid a vast laboratory full of all that was needed to complete the transformation that would occur in a few hours. There were dozens of monitors and gauges, all for measuring Steve’s vitals and the Vita-Rays that were intended to activate the serum within his cells. In the center of it all, there was a bed on which Steve would lie, and when injected with the serum, the bed would be surrounded by a chamber while the Vita-Rays were projected into him.

Lottie and her peers stood at the top of the stairs, taking it all in, while Dr. Erskine descended the steps toward a control panel. He glanced back at them briefly, “Shall we all get accustomed to this now, ladies?”

Over the past few hours, Lottie had tired herself by calibrating various instruments, readying the equipment, and arranging several vials of serum within the transformation chamber. Throughout that time, doctors, higher-ranking soldiers, and members of the SSR slowly filtered into the room, some even gathering in the observation booth that looked down on them from above. She knew that Steve was due to arrive with Agent Carter at any moment. Frankly, she was terrified— mortified, even.

Howard Stark flitted about the laboratory, checking up on the various devices that would be used throughout the process. The Vita-Ray chamber was his brainchild, so a majority of his morning was spent double and triple-checking its minute parts and its stability.

At precisely 10 o’clock in the morning, Agent Carter and Steve stepped into the laboratory, two metal doors held open by guards for their entrance. Silence quickly descended upon the scientists and personnel who had been moving about the room in a sort of organized chaos. Lottie knew that most of them were looking at Steve in confusion, and in some cases dismay, but she made sure to send her best friend a reassuring smile. Even if the bullheaded scientists in the room were doubtful of his abilities, Lottie was with him. She believed in him. Her only doubts were in her abilities.

The staff quickly returned to their business as Agent Carter and Steve descended the steps and approached the center of the laboratory to meet with Dr. Erskine. They shared a brief greeting before Steve was ordered to remove his hat, tie, and shirt; Mary waited beside him with a kind smile, accepting his shed clothing. Agent Carter stood a few feet behind Steve, respectfully averting her gaze as he partially disrobed. Lottie took a special interest in their interactions, examining the way in which she treated Steve. She didn’t ignore or belittle him as some women did, she treated him with more dignity and respect. For that, Lottie was grateful.

Lottie busied herself with sterilizing several glass syringes as she impatiently awaited the initiation of the transformation. She could just barely make out a conversation that Dr. Erskine and Steve had shared about schnapps, but before she could quite figure out what was said, the scientist turned to the inventor beside him, “Mr. Stark, how are your levels?”

“Levels at one hundred percent. We may dim half the lights in Brooklyn, but we are ready as we’ll ever be.” Mr. Stark stood in front of the chamber where Steve now lay, projecting an air of confidence despite an uncomfortable look in his eye.

Agent Carter was dismissed to the booth to join Colonel Phillips, who was seated with several other seemingly important men that Lottie didn’t care to know. Dr. Erskine addressed the crowd in the booth using a microphone, explaining the purpose of Project Rebirth. Meanwhile, Lottie and her fellow nurses prepared the Vita-Ray chamber; she’d just situated the paddles on his chest when his gaze met hers. They’d been in a similar position so many times before. There were countless times over the past decade when she and Bucky had shown up at his apartment, soup and medicine in hand, to make him feel better during his latest bout of sickness. Bucky would always sit on one side of the bed, leaning on the mattress as he tried to distract Steve with idle conversation. She always kept vigil on the opposite side of the bed from Bucky, pulling Steve’s sheets up to his chin no matter how much he complained of the heat. She would never have to do that again, Lottie realized, as the serum would (hopefully) strengthen his immune system to the point that it would nearly be impossible to get sick. He wouldn’t need her or Bucky to look after him anymore. It pained her only slightly; she was overjoyed that he would be strengthened and healed by the serum, but it felt like the end of an era for her. She wasn’t truly needed anymore.

When the scientist’s speech to the booth had concluded, Lottie disinfected Steve’s shoulder and injected a syringe of penicillin into it; beforehand, she gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, warning him for the pain of the jab. She felt him sigh in relief, “That wasn’t so bad.”

Lottie bit back a giggle while Dr. Erskine looked down at Steve with a furrowed brow, “That was penicillin.” The scientist gave her a look and without missing a beat, began the countdown.

Five

The doctors and scientists that were scattered around the laboratory rushed to their control panels, monitoring Steve’s vitals and the Vita-Ray levels that would soon be harnessed for the serum’s activation.

Four

Those that were observing from the booth looked at the scene below with bated breath; they either anticipated either a predictable failure or an unlikely success.

Three

The five nurses gathered around the Vita-Ray chamber, monitoring the serum infusion. Two mechanical arms latched onto Steve’s biceps and embedded several syringes deep into his muscle.

Two

Dr. Erskine placed a hand on Steve’s shoulder. Lottie met Steve’s gaze once more, she was that little girl at his bedside, sitting her vigil for one last time.

One

A switch was flipped and several syringes of the serum were injected into Steve’s system. Lottie could already see the strain it was putting on his body, his face contorted and he grunted in pain as he felt the serum begin its work in his body.

When given his signal, Mr. Stark flipped a lever to encase Steve in the Vita-Ray chamber, which maneuvered Steve into a vertical position before he was completely locked into the machine. Dr. Erskine knocked on the metal, “Steven? Can you hear me?”

A muffled response came from within the metal, “It’s probably too late to go to the bathroom, right?” Lottie snorted, only Steve would make a terrible joke at a time like that.

The scientist faced Mr. Stark, “We will proceed.” Below him, Mr. Stark slowly turned a dial and donned a pair of goggles. Lottie and her peers followed suit, as the luminosity of the Vita-Rays would cause vision damage if their eyes were left uncovered.

Lottie worried her lip as Mr. Stark slowly increased the radiation levels by turning a wheel that was mounted on the control panel. Next to him, a doctor carefully monitored Steve’s vitals; he reported that they were all normal, which calmed Lottie a tad.

At around the seventy percent mark, cries began to ring out from within the Vita-Ray chamber. It was as if screams were being torn from Steve’s throat, they were so hoarse and raw. Dr. Erskine rushed to the chamber while Peggy quickly descended from the booth, urging the personnel to cease the radiation. Lottie stood in shock, stuck in an internal impasse. She worried deeply for Steve’s safety, she always had and always would. Simultaneously, she needed to trust in the years’ worth of work she’d put into Project Rebirth. She and her fellow nurses had worked day after day, slaving over the Super Soldier Serum and Vita-Ray theories to develop the perfect transformation method. If she couldn’t trust her abilities and research, what could she trust?

But when Steve’s cries seemed to echo throughout the laboratory, she knew that his safety superseded whatever pride she had in her research. Lottie had just opened her mouth to call for an end to it when Steve insisted from within the Vita-Ray chamber, “Don’t! I can do this!”

A burst of warmth bloomed in Lottie’s chest; Steve trusted their work and he was fighting to see it through. Mr. Stark continued to raise the radiation levels until they had reached one hundred percent. The staff and observers from the booth could only look on in shock and wonder as the light from within the chamber continued to glow brighter and it began to give off a steady humming noise.

Without warning, sparks began to spray out from the control panels as a result of the copious amounts of electricity being funneled into the transformation. Lottie cried out, ducking down with Mary to avoid the sparks that showered down on them from overhead. Across from them, Nancy, Gladys, and Betty assumed similar positions, clutching their white caps as they attempted to shield themselves from the onslaught.

As quickly as it started, the sparks ceased, as did the humming of the Vita-Ray chamber. The laboratory was far dimmer than it was earlier, with the light from the radiation gone, and nearly half the bulbs in the laboratory having been blown out.

All eyes were on the Vita-Ray chamber as they all awaited the final result of Project Rebirth. The chamber hissed open and released a gust of air, revealing an exhausted-looking Steve.

Lottie could barely believe it, not only was he exhausted-looking, but it seemed as if he’d gained nearly 8 inches of height and a few dozen pounds of muscle. Gone was that scrawny blond boy who’d gotten lost in crowds far too easily, here was a man— a Super Soldier —who was perfectly enhanced on a cellular level.

The SSR agents and politicians who were previously gathered in the booth rushed to meet with Steve, barely able to contain their excitement. They clambered over each other, all of them desperate to be the first one to speak with America’s first Super Soldier.

In all the chaos, Betty had sidled up to her, her jaw nearly touching the floor, “Hot damn, Lottie Green. Hot damn.” She ogled at Steve as she took in his new physique. Lottie rolled her eyes, “Just because he’s got more muscle doesn’t mean he’ll be able to talk to you any better. Or that he won’t step on your toes if you get him to dance.”

Steve stood in the middle of a crowd of men, though Agent Carter stood in front of him, attempting to look at anything but his chest.

“I think you might want this, Stevie,” Lottie moved in to stand beside Agent Carter and offered him a shirt, which he accepted gratefully. He smiled down at her gratefully, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you, Lottie.”

How odd it was to be looking up at him. It was certainly something that Lottie wasn’t used to, she’d gotten quite used to looking down at him, in fact. By age sixteen, she’d gained about two inches on him, and though he was loath to admit it, she knew it pained him to be the shortest of the three of them. Luckily for him, his new height delegated her as the most diminutive of the Brooklyn trio by far.

Amid the jubilation following Project Rebirth’s success, grave mistakes were made. Gladys had left her manila folder of notes— all the notes that the nurses had ever taken during their research —on one of the control panels closest to the stairway, just close enough to the exit to be snatched up by a discreet hand. An extra vial of Super Soldier serum sat in its case, at the ready for its eventual use; it stood unguarded and unwatched.

The once-unassuming Fred Clemson hung back from the crowd, a lighter in hand. Dr. Erskine was the first to notice his position apart from everyone else; the scientist opened his mouth as if to say something, but before he could form a sentence, Clemson had flicked open the lighter and triggered an explosion from the observation booth.

Screams rang out from the middle of the laboratory as glass rained down on them. Sparks even worse than before began assaulting them and left stinging burns in their wake. Lottie grunted as she felt minuscule shards of glass tear at and become embedded in her skin; it would surely be a pain to treat such small cuts and remove the pieces of glass later on. It was shocking, really, how quickly the mood of the room had shifted. Just moments before, she’d been looking at Steve in awe, fully processing all that the serum had accomplished. Her sentiments of excitement and pride quickly evaporated, replaced by a growing sense of panic and dread.

The force of the explosion had thrown Lottie and some of the other nurses to the ground, so she scrambled to her feet in an attempt to take action against the man. It was all in vain, for as soon as she regained her footing, all she saw was the bespectacled man diving through the crowd to grab the last vial of Super Soldier serum and the thick manila envelope that Gladys had brought with her. Lottie’s stomach dropped in terror; she opened her mouth to cry out for backup, but Dr. Erskine was one step ahead of her. He commanded the man to stop, but the only response he received was several gunshots in the chest.

Deep red stains formed across the front of his shirt and seeped into his lab coat, his vibrant blood was a sickening contrast to the crisp white color of his lab coat. The scientist fell to the ground, his legs sprawled out before him and his arms at his side. Lottie knew that there was no hope for him— there were no exit wounds and she was more than certain that at least one of his lungs had been punctured. His breathing was labored, his chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. Lottie didn’t need to perform an examination to know that the wounds would be fatal. There was no time for an examination anyway, gunshots continued to ring out across the laboratory, and Agent Carter was in hot pursuit of the offender.

Mary looked at Lottie for some sort of reassurance of direction, her mouth agape, “Lottie, he's— he’s gonna die if we don’t do somethin’. C’mon, we’ve gotta help him.” Her voice came out in a whimper and her hands shook as she searched the floor for any fallen bandages. She took Mary’s trembling hands into her clammy ones, “Mary, look at his breathing. You know there’s nothing we can do for him now.”

She knew it was a heartbreaking thing to say, but Mary was a brilliant nurse; she already knew all the signs of a punctured lung. Lottie knew that she was having a hard time processing the information due to the shock that was no doubt obscuring her senses and rational thought. What Mary needed was a calm voice to guide her back from the brink of hysteria, a friend to bring her back to reality.

The nurses learned a jarring lesson about reality’s harsh nature that day; they learned of its cycle of gains and losses, successes and failures. The five nurses of Project Rebirth had achieved all that they’d been dreaming of for more than a year, they’d proven themselves to be reliable and even stellar researchers in their field. It had all been ripped away from them in a matter of moments, with the loss of their notes and serum, as well as the brutal death of Dr. Erskine. All they could do was clutch each other helplessly as they watched Steve follow the man in hot pursuit— the man who had stolen everything from them. Lottie, Mary, Betty, Nancy, and Gladys had certainly entered a new era in their careers as nurses, an era of uncertainty. With nothing left from Project Rebirth besides the Super Soldier himself, their futures were left in limbo until the Strategic Scientific Reserve could figure out what to do with them next.

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captainjimothycarter · 3 years

Note

So silly image of sorts based on cousins, but Peggy and Steve vs other parents regarding their kid because their kid takes after serumed daddy and is big for his age. Someone giving them shit for being terrible parents cause their 'obviously' pre-school aged child is throwing a fit and the snap back that the kid is a year, 18 months, not pre-school don't expect a big kid just because he's tall/broad for his age, he's still a baby etc.

Okay maybe less funny but over protective Steve really wanted to showcase himself.

They knew that there was going to be problems down the road with Steve having the serum and he and Peggy trying for kids.

Howard had given his own input or two and it was nothing more than, “We simply don’t know what will happen, kid. It’s all guessing games. Peggy’s pregnancy could either be completely normal six, seven, eighteen months or she could have the kid in six and the kid be fine or worst.”

Peggy’s lips pursed slightly, taking Steve’s hand into her own. Their wedding bands gently brushed one another as she did. “First off, do you not know how long a woman is pregnant for, Howard? Nine months! Nine months. How…” She pinched the bridge of her nose and waved off anything he said in explanation.

“Second,” she continued with a huff. “What do you mean worse?”

Here now, Howard looked sheepish, more so for the worse than the lack of knowing how long a woman was pregnant for. “Well...when we first met Steve he did have that laundry list of problems and-”

“You mean our kid could be like how I was?” Steve interjected, interrupting an annoyed-looking Howard. “They could-could-”

“Hold up, before you start spiraling, Stevie.” Howard’s hands flew up, raised to defend himself and stop Steve from starting to panic. “I said could. If. Maybe. It’s a possibility, a slight possibility that we have to consider, even if I don’t think it’s possible. That serum coursing through your veins rewrites DNA. Genetics. Your little kid is more likely to have that serum than to have any laundry list of your problem.”

But it was still something they had to think about and Steve was struggling to wrap his mind around that.

All through Peggy’s pregnancy, that problem remained in the back of his head. It was a possibility. No matter how much he tried to reassure himself with the countless doctors and even Howard saying that Peggy was doing outstanding for her pregnancy, how big the baby was, and what naught.

It was still there, no matter how much he tried to drown it with optimistic thoughts.

It wasn’t until Chester Micheal Carter-Rogers was born at ten pounds and nine ounces, twenty-five inches in length did Steve breathe a sigh of relief. Even if Chest was three weeks early and Peggy had to have a c-section.

Peggy and baby were both fine and Steve was grateful, so, so, so grateful.

That’s when the problems began to show how it would be to raise a child with the serum. How much of the serum and if they’d later possess super-human strength, no one was sure. Not even Howard. It was all development.

At three months, Chester was already sitting up on his own and responding to his name with a toothless smile. At five months, he was holding his own bottle and loving to play with his parents. At six months, started the teething.

“Well, at least he doesn’t have your strength,” Peggy tried to joke as Chester chewed on the slushy-texture pacifier. “Else he would’ve bitten my nipple straight off with those three teeth halfway coming in. If he bites my nipple, we’re having a problem, mister.”

Chester just giggled at his mama’s finger and gripped at it, making Steve give that half-smile of relief.

Chester was eight months before he said his first word, “Broom!”

Steve dropped the broom he was holding, looking down at the heavy boy strapped to his chest. He’d dropped a glass earlier and was trying to clean it up, having strapped his baby boy to him so he wasn’t hurt. “Did you just…?”

Chester grinned a whole eight teeth in his mouth now. “Broom! Broom!”

“You just…” Steve swallowed, feeling faint and overwhelmed with pride as he picked the boy up and hugged him. “You spoke!”

It was near the year mark did Howard point something out over dinner. “You know...Chester has never been sick.”

Peggy shared a look with Steve, clicking her tongue on the roof of her mouth. Steve lowered his fork and looked at their baby that he was feeding mashed-up food. “That’s true,” she said carefully after a moment of thought. “Not even a fever, a cold. I wasn’t sickly as a child but I had my fair share of colds as an infant and Lord knows you did too, Steve.”

“I think it’s safe to confirm that Chester has Steve’s serum,” Howard mused as if no one had already thought about that. “Good for him.”

Other parents started to notice the developments too during their daddy and me! classes. There were some snide remarks on how big their boy was for a one-year-old.

“Thirty-two pounds!” Gretta hissed, glaring at where Steve was showing Chester and the other kids how to blow bubbles. “He said Chester is thirty-two pounds and thirty-five inches! Can you believe that? Look at how big he is!”

Steve huffed in annoyance and tried not to let the other gossip get to him. It wasn’t until Peggy stormed home one day after a grocery trip with Chester, the little boy sniffling like he’d been crying did it hit him how rude the other parents were.

“I ran into our darling neighbor today,” she noted, slamming the eggs down on the counter.

Steve flinched and hope they weren’t broken as he finished buttoning up Chester’s pants after he’d taken him to the bathroom. “Darling,” he warned, knowing how sensitive Chester was to emotions. “Which neighbor?”

“Oh, the wonderful and perfect Kelly and her perfectly normal daughter Jackie. Don’t you know how perfect they are?”

Steve watched as she half-aggressively put up the groceries, only stopping her when she almost dropped the barely-survived eggs. “Peggy,” he breathed, cupping her jawline. “What did they say?”

“Chester went to hug Jackie as normal - he’s fascinated with other kids and you know him, doesn’t know his own strength, and is just getting the hang of walking right. He fell into Jackie and pushed them both down and Kelly acted like he had punched her daughter. She told me to keep my monster of a child away from her and her family. I told her then she needs to keep her husband home and away from his mistress on business trips.”

Steve’s lips pursed and looked over to Chester playing with his blocks, sighing. Yeah, he got that. The neighbors were not the most polite about Chester’s rapid growth. It’s not like they could say he was Captain America and Chester had some percentage of the super-soldier serum.

“Well, maybe she’ll learn to keep her mouth shut,” he grunted, taking the eggs from her to safely put in the fridge.

In the two months since that incident, Chester was speaking more, learning new words every day. He was even speaking full sentences and could name objects. Now he was walking by himself, kicking a ball back and forth, and even sang songs.

Unfortunately, that meant that Peggy had, of course, taught their son The Man With The Plan.

Right now, none of that mattered. Not when Chester, his beautiful son with his downy soft blonde hair, and hazel eyes, was screaming in the buggy. Not that Steve blamed his son, really. The kid was hot and icky and tired and after several boosters from the doctor, he wouldn’t want to be in public either.

But grocery trips had to be had.

And it didn’t help that Kelly shouldered by them, dragging her daughter and loudly stating that Jackie wasn’t allowed to hug Chester or even look at him.

Now how do you explain that to a child who’s already in a bad mood? You don’t.

Steve had given up on comforting Chester beyond rubbing his back and whispering to him as he looked at the options of oatmeal. He was still sniffling and hiccuping loudly and screaming every so often, even if Kelly had insisted on staying on the aisle with them.

“If that was my daughter,” she droned on without anyone asking her, “I would’ve taught her right and told her tantrums to get you nowhere, especially at that age.”

“And what age might that be?” Steve challenged, standing up and laying a hand on the cart. Chester’s little fingers wrapped around his middle finger to try to suckle on. Poor buddy. Still had that tooth coming in.

“Four, isn’t he?”

Steve just blinked at her, scooping Chester up to try to ground him. God, he wishes Peggy was here. She wouldn’t keep her temper in check as much as he was, but her comfort was greatly needed.

“You know damn well that our kids were born the same year, just months apart, and your daughter, who’s now pulling open the boxes of grits, by the way, is three months older than Chest. And by the way, Kelly, Chest is only eighteen months old! He’s just big for his age and upset because you’re a terrible mother who insists that our kids can’t play together.”

“Well-well-” Kelly stomped to her child and ripped the box from her hand, jerking her up. “He’s too big! He’ll hurt her! He’s nothing but a m-”

Steve didn’t feel his feet moving him until he was in front of the woman about to call his child a monster. He cradled Chester closer to him and glared down at her.

“Finish that sentence, I dare you. You and I both know damn well that Paul isn’t the father of your child and unless you want him to know…” The smile didn’t quite reach his eyes as he stepped back fixed Chester in his arms. “Come on, Chest. I know mommy is waiting for us at the house. Are you ready for our big move, huh? Away from judgemental neighbors who can’t keep themselves in check, yeah? We’ll find new friends for you to play with who don’t mind how big you are. Yeah, we will!”

It might’ve taken two months from moving from Brooklyn to DC and to finally get their house in order but Chester was a lot happier here.

More room to play around in, even having three play dates lined up in the last week with new neighbors who didn’t seem to mind their son was a little more advance.

It wasn’t until the four-month mark hit and Peggy came home from a doctor appointment within Shield did Steve feel the familiar dread hit him as she silently handed him a blank envelope.

Two sonograms were laid inside. One labeled baby a and the other baby b.

“Twins,” he breathed, looking over to Chester rolling his ball after the cat. “We’re having...twins.”

Peggy, seeing the familiar look pulled him in for a comforting kiss. “We are, but at least we have practice with Chester. And no judgemental Kelly around here.”

#Steggy #StevePeggy #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #CJC's story #Steggy Prompt

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hellsenthero · 3 years

Text

Indistinct | Chapter 5

Written by: hellsenthero

Bucky X FemReader

As a shapeshifter you’ve done some heavy spy work, jobs that no one else is capable of. It’s what you’re used to but it’s no longer where you’re needed for. Now after years of working solo SHIELD has assigned you as part of the Avengers and it’s there that you’ll face your most difficult times. But maybe with the help of a certain dark haired, blue eyed super soldier that you have a history with, things won’t be so bad...right?

Main Masterlist

Warnings/Themes: Violence, language, fluff, angst. (2.6K Words)

**********

Since joining the avengers Y/N had been on a few missions. Nothing too big and nothing that required more than two partners. If the shapeshifter’s mind had been more focused on it then she’d be insulted that she wasn’t getting bigger missions, but just like the Winter Soldier her mind was on other matters.

Sitting in her room Y/N flicked through movies on her television in search of something suitable for both her and Bucky.

“Hey doll,” Bucky greeted as he walked into Y/N’s room, a tray of drinks and snacks in hand.

Doll. It was a pet name that had just slipped out of Bucky’s mouth one day. While it was said completely by accident neither Bucky nor Y/N found an issue with it. And after seeing the just barely visible shy glance Y/N had shared with him the first time he said it Bucky made a vow to keep using the pet name.

To tease her. Bucky told himself. To tease her like friends do.

“Hey,” Y/N greeted back as she shifted over in her bed in order to make room for Bucky. Though recently she’d noticed the soldier, no matter how much space he was given, would always sit in a way that left them touching.

Not that Y/N minded.

“Find a movie yet?” Bucky asked as he got into bed.

“No,” Y/N huffed. The woman passed the remote to Bucky, a silent command for him to pick the movie.

“Right, let’s do this then.” He said, clicking on the first movie he saw, which happened to be Brooklyn.

“You picked that for the title.” Y/N said as she reached for her drink.

“No,” Bucky denied, unwilling to tell the shifter that he had absolutely picked the movie because of its link to his home.

“Sure,” Y/N answered with a roll of her eyes which were still all white and still as beautiful as ever to Bucky. “Whatever you say, Brooklyn boy.”

Slowly through the movie Y/N and Bucky drifted closer together. Bucky’s arm curled around Y/N before she curled into his chest, her head on his shoulder and mouth inches away from the man’s neck. I’m cold, she told him before focusing back on the movie. It was a lie, and both of them knew it. Bucky could feel the girls hot breath against the crook of his neck, tickling him with pleasure. Their legs intertwined as they realized they craved more contact from the other.

Soon enough the movie was forgotten about and all they could do was focus on each other.

“What are we doing, Bucky?” Y/N asked as she looked up at the soldier. Back in her days as his trainer at Hydra never would Y/N have thought that she’d be in this type of scenario with Bucky.

“I don’t know, doll.” Bucky admitted. His metal hand came to brush against Y/N’s cheek in a soft caress. His touch leaving behind goose bumps across her skin.

“Do you like it?” Y/N asked with bated breath. Bucky gazed down at her, rolling on the bed so Y/N was beneath him. Propped up on his arms, Bucky made sure to keep his weight off the woman as he looked her over.

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt butterflies like this.

“Yes,” he answered truthfully, “do you?” He asked, praying Y/N had the same answer as him.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered. Gazing at Bucky’s baby blue eyes the shifter tilted her head up just as Bucky lowered his. A breath apart they leaned in and-

And FRIDAY’s voice cackles through the speaker in Y/N’s room, demanding they suit up for a mission before the two can even touch lips. With a groan Bucky pulls back, cheeks flushed he goes back to his spot at Y/N’s side. All’s silent between the two before Bucky finally speaks up.

“We’ll talk about this later?” He asks as he gets off of Y/N’s bed and makes his way out of her room.

“Just talk?” Y/N asks with a coy smile as she follows after the soldier. Bucky shakes his head, his lips tilted up in a small smile.

“Not if I have any say about it, doll.”

The debrief for the mission happens once everyone is suited up and in the quinjet. Steve stands in the middle of the floor, hands crossed over his chest and he stares at his team.

“I know this is a surprise mission, but we couldn’t wait on this. A Hydra base was just discovered along the Russian and Ukranian border. We believe they have a large group of civilians,” Steve paused, his head lowering for a moment as a sigh left his lips, “children, about twenty of them. We believe they’ve been taken for experimentation.” Everyone’s breath caught in their throats at Steve’s words, their eyes wide with equal parts shock and disgust.

“That’s fucked up.” Sam breathed from where he sat. Everyone nodded their heads and Steve for once didn’t bother correcting the man on his foul language.

Bucky had lost some of his colour at Steve’s words, his mind working at an anxious speed as he thought about all the horrors he went through at Hydra and how those horrors were now being reigned down upon innocent children. Y/N slipped her hand into Bucky’s own from where she sat to his left, her fingers tracing the metal plates in a soothing manner as she saw the man’s panic and anxiety. No one else seemed to notice the shared touch between Bucky and Y/N and the two were all the more thankful for it.

“We’re going in teams of two to search the base and take out anyone you come across. Once the agents are all down only then do you get the kids out and on this jet and Tony’s.” Everyone nodded along but remained silent, the air thick with tension. “Nat and I are going to take the East side, Sam and Tony in the sky, Y/N and Bucky take West.” Again the jet remained silent.

Landing at the base came all too soon for Bucky, but the soldier put aside his worries in order to focus on the mission. Y/N could see the wall come up in his mind as they stepped off the jet, protecting him from whatever horrors he might see inside, whatever memories it might drudge up. They shared a look, brief and silent yet it held so much weight, so many unspoken words between them and they knew... if they stuck together, they’d make it out on the other side of this mission.

It didn’t take long upon entering the base for the team to realize how out-manned they were. Hydra agents filled the underground halls, taking up every empty space available.

Shoot, kick, doge, punch, grab, shoot, dodge. It truly was like the sea monster Hydra took its name after, with each agent Y/N and Bucky took down two more took their place.

Sweat dripped down Y/N’s face, dripping into her mouth the acid like taste took over the iron tang from her bloody lip. She didn’t know how long the fight had been going on for but with the heavy exhaustion weighing her down she knew it’d been a while. Bucky fought at her side, his metal fist gleaming in the light like a freshly sharpened blade. Each hit with it took down another against and still more were coming at them.

“We need to retreat,” Steve’s voice came through Y/N’s comms system. The shifter had only had eyes on the Captain for a short second at landing before she’d lost sight of him and Nat in the throng of Hydra agents. “Everyone get back on the jet, now.” He ordered. Neither Bucky nor Y/N wasted any time upon hearing Steve’s order. Both agents turned and with loaded guns and fists flying, made their way out of the base and back to the jet.

They were the last to arrive, injured and panting the jet door closed after them just in time before the bullets began hitting the jet. It was almost comical, the small pings that sounded as the bullets hit the exterior of the jet. One after another like gravol hitting a car as it drove along a dirt road the bullets hit them. Tony was on this jet rather than the other, allowing the computer system to fly it rather his own hands he opted for the jet that housed the rest of his team.

“Tony get us out of here!” Sam growled out.

“I can’t.” Tony breathed out.

“What do you mean, I can’t?” Sam fired back.

It was then that everything went silent. The pinging of bullets coming to a sudden halt, the only sound in the jet to be heard was the team’s heavy breathing. It was almost peaceful, save for the threat that hung about them like a guillotine blade. Y/N stepped closer to Bucky, the soldier doing the same. He was just reaching out to her when a thickly accented male voice spoke through the jets speakers.

“Good day, Avengers,” the man’s voice came out like a purr, as though the team was a mistress he’d had the pleasure of seducing, “we’ve taken over your ship, but of course, you’ve already come to realize this by now. You know what we want. Give us the Winter Soldier.” Slowly, all eyes turned to Bucky. The soldier hung his head low, knowing that with the situation they were in they had no other option but to follow Hydra’s orders. However, it seemed Steve had known exactly what Bucky was thinking, for he shook his head, his stare locked on his friend.

“You’re not handing yourself over Bucky.” The soldier looked up, his own head shaking, a silent disagreement with the Captain. “Bucky-” Steve started before he was cut off by the thickly accented voice coming through the jets speakers again.

“If being stranded here isn’t enough incentive to hand over the Winter Soldier then perhaps I might sweeten the pot.” Chills crawled up Y/N’s spine, her sweat and blood suddenly chilling on her skin at the man’s threat.

Tony was the first to see it as he stood at the front of the jet. It was his choked off gasp that caught the others attention, bringing them all forward until they were all looking out of the jets glass shield.

“No,” Bucky gasped, his breath catching in his throat as he stared forward. He was shaking, trembling at the sight before him. They were all shaking.

Walking into the open field before them was a line of agents, each with a gun in one hand and a struggling child in another. They stopped in a long line before the jet and the Avengers were left facing all twenty children, each with tears pouring down their cheeks and a gun to their heads.

“You know what we want,” the man spoke again to the team though he directed his next words to the soldier and only the soldier, “you can make this end, Soldat. Just come with us and the others can leave, no violence, no bloodshed. You can even have the kids.” He purred. “Don’t and well…” the man paused and Bucky sucked in a rattling breath, “...these kids’ blood will be on your hands and your hands alone, Soldat. You have thirty seconds to step out of the jet before we start killing.” Y/N looked over to Bucky, who’s hands shook at his sides, his head bent forward as he stared at the jet’s dark floor, away from the childrens crying forms.

Y/N knew what he was going to do, she knew the soldier would sacrifice himself in order to keep these children and his team safe. It’s what they all would have done. It’s what Y/N would have done, and so, it’s what she did do.

“Sit down, Bucky.” She spoke softly as Bucky went to the back of the jet, his hand reaching for the button that would lower the door for him to step out. Bucky shook his head as he stood before her, taking a step closer to Y/N as she shook her head at him.

“Y/N, this is our only option, they want me. I have to go.”

“I know,” Y/N answered, her hands coming to rest on Bucky’s biceps, “they want the Winter Soldier, and they’ll get the Winter Soldier. But they aren’t getting you.” Bucky’s head tilted to the side in question, not understanding the woman’s words until suddenly it hit him head on. He’s eyes grew wide in horror as he stepped towards her, his hands grasping onto her own.

“Y/N, no, you can’t.” Y/N gave a soft smile back as she looked at Bucky, her eyes roaming over him, her hands reaching for his face in order to trace the lines of his skin, building up the memory of him in her mind.

She prayed that the memory of him would be enough to keep her warm at night until the end of her time.

“I hurt you in Hydra,” she began. Tears welled up behind her eyes as she looked at Bucky. “I hurt you and there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t regret that. There’s days that I wish I’d never met you, that I think how better off you’d be without me in your life,” Bucky shook his head frantically at the woman’s words, tears of his own spilling down his cheeks just like Y/N’s, “but I’ve come to realize that this was all meant to be, that we were meant to be,” Y/N stepped further into Bucky, forcing him to take a step back, and another and another until he was pressed against the jets wall, “you’ve done your time, Bucky. You’ve fought your battles and you’ve come out the other side,” Y/N’s hands slipped down from Bucky’s face, her hands reaching for his own, “it’s my time to go to battle now Bucky, for us.” Y/N pressed her lips to Bucky’s in a desperate kiss. Tears slipped down their cheeks as they shared a last moment of love. Their first kiss, and their last.

It was when Y/N had pulled away from their kiss, that Bucky realized what the woman had done.

The snap of the cuffs around his wrists and the metal beam along the jet’s wall rang out in the silence between them. And as Y/N stepped back Bucky was filled with a nauseating horror. He shook his head, pulling at the cuffs that held him he looked to the shifter, his gaze pleading with her to let him go.

She didn’t. She looked to the team, a last goodbye in her gaze.

“Take care of each other.” Bucky shook his head, small please and no’s spilling from his lips, all intertwined with her name.

“Y/N, please, don’t do this, please…”

“I love you Bucky.” Y/N’s said softly. It was her final goodbye before she shifted and Bucky was left staring at a carbon copy of himself.

“Y/N, please, don’t…” he begged. But it was too late.

With the press of a button Y/N stepped off the quinjet and handed herself over to Hydra.

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Tag List: @fangirl3247 @bestofbucky @broco8 @awesomelittlebabydragon @strangersstranger @beware-my-thorns

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wyslyyzr · 3 years

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a vague timeline for things because marvel is fucked all across the board and i need some sense of continuity + solidifiying my past headcanons--this is close to what i had ran with in the past, just typed up again.

1930: max eisenhardt is born in dusseldorf, germany. the eisenhardt family moves shortly thereafter to nuremburg; max has no memories of dusseldorf. this is the place his parents were born as well. reasonably, max considers nuremburg his home town.

1933: ruth eisenhardt is born in nuremberg, germany, max’s younger and final sibling.

1935-1938: max meets magda, the daughter of one of the lady janitors at the school he attended.

1939: the eisenhardts, following an antisemitic outburst that shamed and injured max’s uncle erich, and a violent interaction with jakob’s former general from the first world war where he was beaten and thrown out of his office, and, finally, kristallnacht, move to warsaw in an attempt to escape the anti-jewish tensions.

1940: the warsaw ghetto is built around them.

1940-1942: the very young max turns into a food smuggler in the warsaw ghetto, acquiescing meals for both his family members and other jewish families with other boys. he has his bar mitsvah sometime in this period, despite not being 13, given the direness of the situation.

1942: deportation to the treblinka camps begins. the eisenhardts flee yet again. on their way back to their hideout, they are captured by nazi regiment. the eisenhardts are executed, but jakob saves his son’s life by butting him out of the line of the bullets. regardless, max is knocked unconscious, and brought to a mass grave where he is dumped alongside his family.

1942-1944: max is found alive in the camp, and put to work for his impressively sturdy frame despite the harrow of starvation. in order to avoid being selected for death, max becomes a sonderkommando.

1942-1944: this bit is a bit of influence from the xmcu, but something i’ve always incorporated into my canon regardless; max’s mutant abilities laid nearly dormant due to physical illness contracted from exertion and malnourishment, however, in moments of grief and anger, they were still strong enough to rear up. more than once, he’d injured officers, and killed one on accident out of fear. instead of being executed, josef mengele and doctor sinister took interest in him and conducted various physical experiments. when they could not produce the same effects, he was sent back to the work force.

late 1944: max participates in the sonderkommando rebellion, escaping not only alongside other sonderkommandos, but magda, who had happened to also be interned in the camps. 14 and 15 respectively, they spend the rest of their teens together, and most of their 20s.

1950: anya eisenhardt is born. max marries magda two months into her pregnancy.

1957: the identity of “erik magnus lehnsherr” is created by georg odekirk, however i do not implement the idea that erik posed as rroma to “fit in” with the rroma community since i think its kinda.. bad. he’s accepted as his wife’s husband and a jewish man. max becomes erik to protect himself and his family.

1959: the eisenhardts--now lehnsherrs--move to vinnitsa, a then-soviet region, in order to pursue stable work, as erik became dissatisfied with only scraping by to provide for their daughter. he acquires a construction job in the summer, where he worked for another few months before the next incident.

fall of 1959: erik consciously uses his abilities for the first time, hurling a crowbar at his boss over a pay dispute. when he returns to the inn where he and his family had been staying, he finds it aflame, and anya trapped inside. when he makes an attempt to free her, he is held down by the security his boss had employed, evoked over their dispute, and is forced to watch anya burn to death. finally, in an explosion of 29 years of grief and anger, catalyzed by the loss of his child, erik’s abilities fully emerge. not only does he kill everyone in the immediate vicinity he deems responsible for the event, including anyone who happened to become caught in the detritus and obstructions, he levels more than half of the city. in the ruins and ash, he finds anya’s scorched body and digs a grave with his hands to bury his daughter, where magda in the wake of his destruction approaches him horrified by his actions. he asks her to help him bury their daughter, and in her fear, she proclaims him a monster before fleeing, unknown to either of them, pregnant with the twins. erik is approached by another regiment of soldiers who attempt to shoot him in the head. he turns their guns on them instead, finishes burying and honoring his daughter, and spends some time searching for magda, whom he never finds. after a few days of unsuccessfully looking for his wife, erik packs what little he has left and travels from the leveled vinnitsa to haifa, israel.

1960: erik volunteers at a hospital in haifa that predominantly focused on helping other survivors of the shoah, where he seeks some modicum of treatment himself, and meets none other than charles xavier.

1961: after helping charles rescue gabi, erik realizes he and charles’ views are incompatible, and departs from haifa. he is eventually scouted by both the israeli secret service and a western outfit (likely the CIA) whilst hunting nazi war criminals.

1962: erik hunts nazi war criminals and turns them over to israel for trial. i don’t really feel like going into detail about this one because its a little convoluted but basically erik is “allowed” to turn over certain nazis that are deemed acceptable to turn over to israel by his western control, but when he turns over a nazi that the west does not want him to turn over, agents show up to put an end to his “betrayals”, where he learns the truth of what they were doing and freaks out in a rage and kills them all, where he finally adopts the identity of “magneto”. he moves to brooklyn, new york, in the same year.

1964: erik meets cassandra michaels, who designs his outfit. this is where this timeline gets fucked to hell because i have to work with 60 years of super old dumbass comics that characterize erik as a super hammy archetypical villain when thats not the character he develops into.

this post is going to be SUPER LONG so this is a placeholder for me to edit and continue it later in detail. take these points as general points for the future before i write them out fully.

late 60s is the first instance of asteroid m shit

the 1970s and 80s are the brotherhood heyday before the x-men really exist and they’re the only public figures saving and protecting mutants while also executing violent resistance to mutant oppression.

early o5 era is around 1990-1999

dark phoenix saga around 2000

genosha massacre mid 2000s. the “magneto was right” movement begins around this date as well, and che guevara-type merchandise starts sprouting up.

m day and civil war in 2008-ish, a few years following the genoshan massacre.

utopia around 2011.

avx around 2014.

#and i will do more LATER.#-- JUST LOOK AT ALL THAT WE HAVE MADE. | HEADCANONS.#long post #shoah tw #child death tw

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labyrinthof-fan-fiction · 3 years

Text

Breathe {2}

Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: This is the most planned out fic. I think I’ve ever written, holy cow. Steve would be yelling language so much at this chapter. I cannot stress to all of you how much Sam or Bucky are not straight in this.

Rating: M

Summary: Six months after Endgame, Bucky sees John Walker with the shield, it’s time to talk to Sam. Steve died of old age and is the Major Character Death. Unrequited Stucky, eventual SamBucky.

Warnings: Major Character Death, Self Harm, Swears, Angst, Grief,

Word Count: 2,301

Six months passed, Bucky had been a stranger, but he had been busy. Getting acclimated to the modern world was not as easy as he had hoped. Brooklyn had changed, just like everything else. Businesses were gone, families he had known died, but it still was Brooklyn. He had taken a self guided tour when he first moved into the apartment. There were plaques all over the place with his and Steve’s name on them. He remembered staring up at their old building, or at least the plot of land it had been in, that was now some kind of apartment complex, and wondered why the hell they had thought to put a bronze plaque out front. Reading the plaque had caused his skin to crawl, the two friends lived together for years. That shouldn’t bother him as much as it did, but it kept nagging at his mind. Two friends, that’s all they were, no matter his feelings, they were friends. Til the end of the line. That phrase popped back into his mind. Bucky had ninety years, but there were three words he never got to say.

He had turned away once he finished reading, tears starting in his eyes and his hands clenched. He stumbled into two men who were holding hands.

“Watch it!” The taller one snapped, pushing the other behind him protectively. Bucky had frozen for a moment, eyes flicking around the two, whose hands remained intertwined. The one who had been pushed aside whispered in the other’s ear. “Alright, let’s go, but watch where the fuck you’re going.”

Bucky mumbled an apology, but his eyes wandered back to the couple as they walked away, their hands intertwined. He pushed down the ache he felt in his chest, shoved his hands into his pockets, and shuffled his way back to his apartment. Once he was at the place he now called home, he got onto the computer that had been left for him. Hydra had taught him how to use one, that was one skill he was grateful for.

Aside from reacquainting himself with life, he was making amends for his time as the Winter Soldier and attending his court mandated therapy sessions with Dr. Raynor. Busy, cleaning up years of messes he had made for Hydra, catching u At least that’s what he kept telling himself every time his phone dinged and it was a text from Sam. I’ll get to it. He kept saying, but he didn’t.

He sat in front of her birch tree wallpaper. He hated the room, the couch, not so much Dr. Raynor, but he hated the situation. He spent years with someone else in his head, and he didn’t need another person added to the list to comb through his mind.

Bucky continued in his usual fashion of giving her one word answers. Then he started to talk about the name he crossed of his list of amends, he parroted back Rule Number Three.“I am no longer the Winter Soldier, I am James ‘Bucky’ Barnes, and you are part of my effort to make amends.”

“Give me your phone.” She ordered, he sighed and handed it over, she started going through the phone. “You’ve been ignoring the texts from Sam.” He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “You’re alone, you have no family. It’s sad.”

He clenched his jaw. “I’m trying. I had calm in Wakanda, for ninety years I have gone from one fight to another.”

“So now that you’ve stopped fighting, what do you want?”

Bucky paused and considered his answer. “Peace.” He answered.

She scoffed, “That’s bullshit.”

Bucky remained silent, because he knew she was right. He did want peace, but that wasn’t his top priority. “Thanks doc.” He muttered as he walked out of her office and made his way home.

He grumbled to himself and made his way to the makeshift bed on the floor. He had tried to sleep in the bed, that first night after Steve was gone, but he couldn’t. Too soft, too warm, but the floor, that was just right. He sat on the floor and turned on the television, turning to the news channel, it was the only thing he could tolerate, at least it used to be the only thing he could tolerate. Sam had given up the shield. And now some asshole was walking around with Steve’s legacy on his arm. Bucky hadn’t met Walker, but he already knew, he wasn’t Captain America. The pomp and circumstance around his announcement disgusted him, Sam wouldn’t have done this. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone, glancing at Sam’s message from earlier that day.

I’ll be in town this week. Teaming up with the Air Force, wanna grab a bite?

Bucky felt guilty for ignoring him all this time, he hadn’t wanted to. But he didn’t want to burden Sam, from the little bit he had learned from Steve, Sam had baggage too. He glanced back at the message. Air Force. That was something Bucky was still familiar with.

Bucky walked into the hangar. “Why’d you give up the shield?”

“Good to see you too, Buck.” Sam said calmly, ignoring Bucky’s question.

Bucky followed Sam and listened to him rattle on about the ‘Big Three.’ Aliens, androids, and wizards, the fuck? “I read the Hobbit, in 1937, when it came out.”

He didn’t miss the mildly surprised look on Sam’s face, but followed him onto the plane, like hell he was being left behind, not again. He sat across from Sam, glaring and Sam bared down and his brown eyes met Bucky’s blue. And in that moment, Bucky’s heart skipped a beat.

Bucky watched Sam jump out of the plane, and sighed. Following another idiot into certain danger. He thought to himself before jumping out, and then hitting every possible tree branch on the way down. He caught a flash of red just before he hit the ground.

“I got all of that.” He heard Sam chuckle as Redwing hovered above him.

“Get it out of my face, Sam, before I break it.” Bucky snarled through his teeth. Trying to ignore Sam’s laughter, and the little beep from Redwing.

Bucky followed Sam into the warehouse, slinking into the shadows into a separate hallway.

“Look at you, White Panther.” Sam snickered through the comms.

Bucky sighed and rolled his eyes, “White Wolf, actually.”

Sam’s quiet laughter filtered through the comms, and Bucky’s face grew warm, he shook his head and continued walking. He met Sam in a large storage room, he could see a man lifting a large pallet of boxes. “I could take him.”

“Just wait.” Sam murmured, tapping on his goggles. “There’s more.”

“I could take them.”

“Just because you have a vibranium arm doesn’t mean you can take everyone in the world.” Sam grumbled, looking out at the semis waiting. “They’ve got a hostage.”

The trucks started to pull away and Bucky ran after them. Sam was yelling at him through comms, but he didn’t care, he jumped on the back of the second truck and ripped the door open. He glanced around, “Looks like vaccines.” A girl with curly red hair stepped out from behind one of the she glanced up timidly at Bucky. “I’m here to help.” Bucky said, holding out his hand to her. A smirk appeared on her face, “Son of a—“

Bucky flew from the semi as she kicked him in the chest. He glared up at her as she gave a last smile before jumping to the top of the truck. Bucky chased after her and was instantly thrown into a fight with her and two other men. They started kicking and punching him before the men grabbed ahold of both of his arms and turned him to face her. Redwing began to buzz around her head and she groaned, then grabbed the drone from the air and snapped in half over her knee.

“I’ve always wanted to do that.” Bucky said wistfully, catching Sam’s eyes for a moment before Sam engaged the girl and was thrown to a separate truck and pinned down by two men that Bucky hadn’t noticed.

Then that damn red, white, and blue saucer flew through the air. Bucky glanced up to see Steve’s government replacement jump from the helicopter. Bucky caught the shield as it rebounded from the hit, then it was immediately taken by Walker. Bucky gripped the bottom of the semi, snarling as the super soldier continued to stomp on his hand until his grip was broken and he was holding on by one arm. He snarled as he slid down the truck and wrapped himself around the bottom of the trailer frame. The tires hitting the pavement sounded louder then he glanced over to see a flash of silver and red.

“That little girl kicked your ass.”Sam joked before barreling under the semi, pulling Bucky with him and they rolled into a field, the two grunting until they came to a stop. Bucky was on top of Sam, his eyes met Sam’s and Bucky felt his stomach flip, then his eyes flicked down to Sam’s lips. He panicked and rolled off Sam, he paused for a moment, trying to calm his breathing. “You’re welcome by the way.” Sam snarked.

“Asshole.” Bucky grumbled. “Those were super soldiers.” Bucky murmured, still feeling his heart flutter in his chest.

“Yup.” Sam said, standing up from the ground and walking to the road, glancing back at Bucky on the ground for a moment before walking towards the road.

Bucky grumbled and rolled onto his feet, falling into step beside Sam. They continued talking about the implications of the super soldiers. Dread was thrumming though Bucky’s body, super soldiers meant Hydra. His arm ached, he shook it off and continued to walk along side Sam, listening to him talk about his connections, where he would get the information next. Then he heard the honk of a horn.

Bucky glanced over to see the new blonde haired, blue eyed boy who wanted to be Captain America. “We’re pretty sure it’s one of the big three.” He called out to them.

Bucky glanced over at Sam with a raised eyebrow. How many of you have this damned big three idea? He thought to himself, Sam rolled his eyes. “Or it’s super soldiers.” He answered, not making eye contact with Walker.

“You really think so?” Lamar asked.

“We gotta work together. That’s the only way.” Walker said.

Bucky bristled, like hell was he going to work with him. He might think he looked the part, but there was no fucking way that this guy was Captain America. He was no Steve Rogers, Bucky’s eyes wandered over to Sam. And he sure as hell was no Sam Wilson. “Just because you carry that shield doesn’t make you Captain America.” He snarked, Sam gave him a small nudge.

“I put in the work. I know you didn’t expect to see the shield, Bucky” Walker snarked back defensively.

Bucky’s blood began to boil, who the fuck did he think he was, calling him Bucky. “Did you? Have you jumped on a grenade?” Bucky snarled, rage building inside him.

Walker started to go on a tirade about jumping on grenades, and plans for them. Bucky didn’t care. “C’mon, it’s twenty miles to the airport, get in the truck.”

Sam sighed and started climbing in the back of the truck. Bucky glared, he didn’t like it, but he wasn’t leaving Sam alone with these guys. Bucky remained silent and let Sam fill Walker in. He threw in a few

“You hacked my tech?” Sam snarled, Bucky could feel him stiffening next to him.

“It’s government property, I’m kind the government.” John answered nonchalantly.

Bucky turned his glare directly onto John, each time he opened his mouth Bucky added to his mental list of reasons why this man wasn’t fit to be Captain America. He thought that he had created a long enough list after watching his first interview, but no, meeting him in person. Bucky had a hell of a list going.

“It’d be a lot easier if I had Steve Roger’s best friend and wingman on my side.” John said.

Bucky tilted his head at Sam, who remained silent, but Bucky could see the fire lighting in his eyes. “Stop the car!” Bucky didn’t look back as he started walking on the path, Sam fell into step beside him. Bucky was seething, he started taking deep breaths to try to calm himself once they were out of eyesight of the others. He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose, taking deep breaths.

“Come on, Buck, calm down.” Sam murmured, stopping next to him, dropping a hand to his shoulder.

“He’s an asshole.” Bucky managed to spit out.

Sam laughed, “Yeah, he is. But you seem to like calling everyone an asshole today, especially people who saved your ass.”

Bucky squinted his eyes and glanced over at Sam, who had a small smile on his face. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t have to.” Sam said, giving Bucky’s shoulder a small squeeze.

“Good, cause I wasn’t planning on it.”

Sam let out a full bodied laugh, he reined it in and glanced at the other man. “You okay?”

Bucky sighed, “He’s not Steve.” He’s not you.

Sam nodded, he removed his hand from Bucky’s shoulder. They continued in silence, both men in their minds. Bucky wasn’t sure what Sam was thinking about, but Bucky already had three plans devised for how he was going to steal the shield from Walker and make sure it ended up in Sam’s hands. Because if an asshole was going to be wielding the shield, it was going to be his asshole of choice.

#sambucky #sam x bucky #sambuckyfic #tfatws #winterfalcon #winterfalcon fic #bucky barnes #captain america #sam wilson #bucky barnes x sam wilson #sam wilson x bucky barnes #tfatws fic #breathe

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