23 Jun 2018
Bucky loves food and naps and Steve Rogers.
21 Aug 2019
“Captain America lives on the top floor. Roof access. This is the closest we can get with camera surveillance. Stark hasn’t started sweeping random bakeries, not yet. Think you can handle the mission?”
The Soldier has killed presidents and priests, drug lords and diplomats, people with small armies to protect them and people who could make him break a sweat as they fought for their lives. He has shaped the century.
These are facts, not memories.
But he knows this is nothing, this mission. Follow a lone man around the city. Break into his apartment. Watch and observe.
“Yes,” he says.
“Guess Pierce was right. This is ironic. Fucking poetic even.” Rumlow snorts. “Barnes is a supersoldier. You’re the only one who can take care of him, isn’t that right, Cap?”
That is not the Soldier’s designation. He nods anyway.
After the Battle of New York, Captain America refuses to work for S.H.I.E.L.D and remains in New York. Alexander Pierce activates the Winter Soldier to handle the situation and unknowingly signs Hydra’s death warrant.
11 Sep 2019
Steve straddles his bike, he's about to start it and wallow on the ride home about yet another soulmate-less day, when he hears it.
"Goddamn, baby boy, take a ride on this."
in which you hear your soulmate's thoughts when they see you for the first time.
Fandoms: Captain America (Movies)
21 Mar 2020
Bucky's got a need so deep, he never knew he could feel this way before he got thrown into a war.
On a rare night of peace, he slips into the forest for some much needed alone time and finds an ancient cottage. It's as good a place as any to settle things.
Until he falls asleep, waking up to find that he's not as alone as he thought.
26 Jun 2020
Bucky is eighteen, not stupid, so he shakes his head.
“No thanks, fella,” he says.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” the man says.
It’s such a funny thing to say that Bucky pauses, frowning. In between his fingers is the thin white cylinder, its ends neatly trimmed.
“You don’t know me,” he says.
“Maybe,” the man says. His voice is deep in a way that Bucky can’t catch, but can swallow. It rattles into him, a tenor so low it makes his jaw ache, warms him in the chilled night air. “I thought I did, once.”
(Every five years, Bucky meets the same tall, blond stranger.)