l223m0nade - Tumblr blog

[l223m0nade]

Being held down at the wrists by a very sneezy partner who is trying desperately to hold back the most intense and teasing tickle they've ever felt. Your hands are restrained, and their hands are busy doing the restraining, so the only tools available to them to delay the inevitable are their own willpower and anything within reach they can rub their poor, itchy nose on—including you.

[l223m0nade]

i'm still alive and i miss yall and i miss it here!!! just been having what feels like a normal and natural dip in the mysterious wavelengths of my snz libido 🤷 sorry for being MIA and hope everyone is doing great aka surviving endless february

[l223m0nade]

false starts are amazing in and of themselves, but what brings me to my knees is the embarrassed and disoriented aftermath that follows them.

in the midst of their prolonged fit, they swear that nothing could be worse than another sneeze! They make a double-edged deal: please - anything but this! Cruel fate immediately challenges them with a one-up: amplifying the sharpness of their next inhale only to snatch release away just as suddenly.

The first second is one of uncertainty: is it coming? Is it not? Their hand hovers before their face, the half-dozen prior outbursts having conditioned them to cover. Eyes squinted shut slowly flutter open. They gaze to the nearest light source in an attempt to bring closure, but before they can recognize the irony in searching for a sneeze after bargaining for their end, the maddening tickle has revived and demanded all their thought. Head thrown back, nostrils flaring, P'Please - Al-Almost? "A-Ahh!!"

It's the moment that their lungs are filled and their torso prepares to snap forward that the switch flips off again. Confused, they deliberately open their eyes this time, coming back to their present. Ears flare red as they realize that the sounds they have made just now are indistinguishable from gasps of other, more intimate contexts. Whether they're surrounded by a group of their peers, sharing a wall with their roommate, or forced to endure the aftermath of their echoes in solitude, their mind will quickly change. Backtracking on their heat-of-the-moment opinion: just give me the sneezes instead.

(Don't get me started on the not-actually-a-sneeze choo~? they release out of habit.)

[l223m0nade]

There’s something about a person sneezing softly throughout the day, so unobtrusively that no one really notices how frequent it is. It’s just a soft “—tchu…” here and there, until it finally clicks in someone’s brain that this is like the 15th time. And suddenly it’s so obvious the person is sick—they even LOOK sick, but their symptoms were so subtle that it slipped under the radar for who knows how long

[l223m0nade]

Hellooo! I hope your holiday season has been going well!

Unfortunately I have caught covid and am being miserable and I’m desperately craving some sick Bucky and caring Steve. Could I possibly request a fic? Only if you have time and want to!! Otherwise I’ll keep rereading your existent fics 😅❤️

Hi friend!!! I'm so sorry you're sick but I'm so happy to get this (my first! 😃) ask! Something's been knocking around in my head involving a cold with little fits of sneezes that start out super light and quick but get heavier, so here's where that inspo got me with our sweet blorbo.

(I set this in a canon-divergent AU where the Winter Soldier came in before Age of Ultron and everyone’s fine and happy at the New Avengers Facility in upstate NY, just fyi, don’t really need context it’s just a bit of fluff)

The mission turned out a complete success, though it was hard-earned. Bucky felt his shoulders slowly start to relax as he dumped his wet dirty gear on the quinjet floor with a sigh of relief. He looked over to where Sam was patching up Steve, who’d taken a piece of shrapnel to the thigh, and determined that Sam was giving him enough shit for being reckless and cocky for the time being without his help. Steve caught his eye with a sheepish smile and he smirked in response, shaking his head gently and turning to his soothing post-mission routine of cleaning and organizing weapons and every last bit of gear.

He was dog tired, and cold, and achy, which was a little unusual, as was the scratchy sore inflamed feeling in his throat and the back of his nose. He brushed it off and began methodically wiping down knives.

He was halfway through disassembling his rifle when the slight itch in his face suddenly morphed into a tickle in his nose. The sneeze caught him by surprise enough that he barely had time to turn his face to the side. “Hhhtish!” It came out light and quick and unsatisfying, and he had to sneeze again immediately after. “Hhh-hh-Tsschu!” It felt like there was a third, but then the urgent tickle backed down. Didn’t go away, though, just fluttered teasingly between his nose and throat. He frowned and rubbed his whole face roughly. That was annoying. He refocused on the equipment spread out in front of him.

Steve watched Bucky diligently clean every last weapon and bit of gear, including some not his own. This was familiar all the way back to the war: it was how he came down from the tension of the mission, how he kept from overthinking about what could have happened or what might happen next time. He’d told Steve something his first sharpshooting instructor had imparted during training: “There’s almost nothing you can control in war, but you can keep your rifle clean, and a clean rifle’ll shoot better, so that right there’s something.”

He felt pride swell in him. Bucky wasn’t a regular fixture on their mission roster. He spent most of his time on training and equipment R&D at the upstate facility. Fighting didn’t have the magnet-pull for him that it did for Steve; he could handle anything, but sometimes combat rattled memories loose that he preferred to keep quietly packed away. And he contributed enough to the team’s successes just by imparting his vast skill set and helping stress-test armor and weapons.

Sometimes, however, something from that skill set was crucial to a mission. This time, it was the stealth and resourcefulness that had the Winter Soldier known as a ghost for decades. To infiltrate the facility undetected and open a backdoor for the Avengers, Bucky had trekked for two days through snow-covered woods and dove to the bottom of a lake full of floating ice chunks, to find a water inlet pipe barely big enough to squeeze through until he reached larger unused half-flooded access tunnels. Eventually he’d made it to a server room, a silent shadow taking out patrolling guards without raising alarm, and there he’d input the code to scramble the perimeter security. Once that was done the rest of them came in hard and fast, and Bucky threw himself into the fight alongside them.

It had gone perfectly, but Steve was tired, and he’d only been there for the grand finale. Bucky must be exhausted. And cold.

Equipment finally put away, he settled next to Steve with a sigh. He slung an arm around him and Bucky leaned into the casual embrace, clearing his throat and rubbing his face with a dry sniff. “You’re still in all this wet stuff?” Steve asked, feeling the stiff cold of the tac uniform. “Buck, you must be freezing.”

He just shrugged. “Be colder to change in here. ‘Sides, we’re almost back, no need to show off my skivvies,” he rolled his eyes at Clint, who having no such compunctions was now lounging in a purple sweatsuit.

“The hell I’d’ve caught from you for staying in wet things…” Steve shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah. I earned my right to hypocrisy putting up with you all those years,” Bucky replied loftily.

“Anyone mind if we turn the heat up a little?” Steve asked to the room at large, and a moment later a soft gust of warm air was coming from behind them. Bucky gave him a look like he was being ridiculous, but he relaxed a bit more and gave a little shiver at the warmth. Steve smiled, pleased with himself.

A moment later, Bucky gave a confused little look, his eyes fluttered and his breath caught, and he twisted quickly to the side to half-catch a quick, soft “hhhtssh” against his shoulder. Steve could feel his chest move with a few shallow hitching breaths before he sneezed a second, fuller “huh-Huhtsschoo!” tucked into his forearm.

“Bless you!” said Steve, rubbing his back. “See, you did get chilled.”

Bucky shot him a warning look but the threat in it was dampened by the way he looked like he still needed to sneeze. It puttered out into a few dry coughs, and he rubbed his nose hard, which just succeeded in turning it pink.

“Hmm.” Steve frowned. “Are you getting sick?”

Bucky just scowled. “Fussy. Ever since you got big, I swear…”

But he relaxed another fraction into Steve, let his tiredness show a little more, and Steve felt vindicated, if still a little worried. “Turnabout is fair play, pal.” Bucky had a lot of blankets and tea and soup in his near future. Ever since he first learned they were somehow both alive in this century, PUT BUCKY IN BLANKETS AND HUG AND KISS HIM had been a more or less constant siren going off in Steve’s head, and he indulged it whenever he got the chance.

Less than two hours later, they were back in their shared quarters. Bucky had unobtrusively stifled his sneezes throughout debrief, but he was too tired to try and resist the fact that he was coming down with a cold now that it was just him and Steve. His head ached, his chest felt scratchy with occasional nagging coughs, and his whole face felt stuffed up and tender. It felt like no amount of warmth and rest would satisfy this achy, shivery feeling, and the feeling that he might be about to sneeze was pretty much constant now. It only sometimes followed through, and he kept getting surprised by little fits.

“Hehtsshh, hhh-heh-hetsshoo! Huh...huhh—huhhtchumpf!” He groaned as he straightened. He’d barely gotten his boots off before those caught him.

“Go on, get in a hot shower,” Steve directed. “I’ll grab some of your cozy clothes to throw on after.”

“Sheep pants,” he grumbled, shuffling off to the bathroom. They were the warmest.

“Of course the sheep pants,” scoffed Steve, “what do I look like, a shmuck?”

In the shower, he tried to focus on how good the hot water felt, instead of on how runny and tickly the steam made his nose. He let a few light, teasing, spraying sneezes out freely as he stepped out, dried off, and rushed to blow his nose, which was sort of productive but mostly just underlined how congested he was getting.

He smiled at the socks, underwear, hoodie, and thick soft fleece pants with sleeping sheep printed on them, that Steve had left out for him. Just as began to pull the sweatshirt over his head, his nose twitched precariously.

“Oh, co—hehh—come on,” he muttered, stuck ridiculously with his sweater around his head but paralyzed by the intense tickle in his nose, which decided to tease him instead of getting the sneeze over with. He scrunched and wiggled his nose against the fuzzy fabric he was trapped in. “snff...hhh, ehh...ehh—heh...hehhh...ehh—hhyISHuhh!” He growled, finally popped his head through the collar, and trundled out of the bedroom towards the sound of Steve in the kitchen trying to one-up the mother-hen coddling that Bucky Barnes had perfected in the 1930s.

Steve made tea and perused their canned soups while listening to Bucky snuffle and sneeze throughout the process of showering and changing, feeling a mixture of fond exasperation, tender concern, and bashful arousal which threatened to turn him pink. He didn’t like Bucky being exhausted and uncomfortable, but the rare sight of him all vulnerable and tickly-sneezy had always...done things to him.

And he certainly looked and sounded that way now, in soft clothes with towel-dried hair and tired, red-rimmed eyes, coming up behind Steve’s left to hook his chin on his shoulder and slide his arm around his waist with a sigh, a sniff, a cough, and another sigh. He watched Steve pour hot water over the teabag and add a spoon of honey, and then Steve twisted to kiss his forehead and try to subtly evaluate it for fever-heat. Maybe? He was never much of a nurse compared to his Ma and Buck.

“Go park yourself on that couch,” he murmured to Bucky, who gave a little raspy chuckle ending in a groan.

“Once I do, I’mb ndot getting back up for the rest of the day,” his voice had a different deeper resonance and he was so much more congested. Steve was about to turn and fold him up in a giant tender hug when he tensed with a little gasp and “ehtshoo,” sneezed right into his shoulder, no time to turn away and cover like he generally did out of what Steve considered excessive politeness. “Shit, sorry,” he said in a breathy quaver, as Steve continued his turn. He shook his head in warning, “snff, I gotta—hhh—snee-huhh—I’mb gonna huh-huh...huhhaaTSHhiew! Snff-snff uhh...sndeeze...hehh...again! EhhTISHooo!”

Steve realized he was just standing there, poleaxed by the sight and sound of Bucky’s completely lost battle with his relentlessly tickling nose, the way his voice pitched as he tried to get words out ahead of his sneezes. He was definitely blushing hot pink by now. He shook himself and cast about before finding a tissue box and handing a couple to Bucky, who gave him a bleary grateful look with his nose still buried in his sleeve, hitching on the cusp of a fourth sneeze. It teased him even longer than the others, until he looked up blinking rapidly and finally shuddered into it: “Ihhh-hihhh-hIHktcshhOO!” He almost lost his balance with how it bent him at the waist and how tired he was.

“Bless you, honey,” Steve cooed as he finally got his arms around him, and as Bucky groaned and gave a pitiful nose blow. “That was a great demonstration of exactly why you should spend the whole day on the couch.”

With blankets. Steve got him propped up on pillows on their massive couch, dashed off and returned with an armload of different colors and fabrics, all soft and warm, and proceeded to burrito Bucky as he chuckled and coughed and batted at him. His eye-rolling and scoffing was undermined by the way he snuggled deeper into the bundle of warmth with obvious relief.

Suddenly he stiffened with a pained look and took a deep hitching breath, nose quivering, threatened by yet another sneeze. After a long frozen moment, he sighed as the tickle deserted him, and gave his aching sinuses a rub. “God. I really do have a cold,” he croaked, and then coughed a couple times.

“Yeah, sweets,” Steve said tenderly, stroking his hair, “but I’m gonna take good care of you.” Then he leapt up and dashed to the kitchen and back. “Here’s your tea. I’m about to heat up soup, and you need to eat a bowl before you nap. What sounds good—chicken noodle? Chicken and rice? That Thai coconut stuff?”

Bucky gave him a quizzical smile and chuckled softly. “Aren’t you the guy who tells people, ‘If you get killed, walk it off’?”

Steve didn’t know or care what his face was doing right now, but once in a while Sam told him he had something called “crazy eyes.” They were probably going to team up on making fun of him when Bucky got better. “You need more pillows. And I forgot tissues!”

“Steve, baby—”

“Stay there and drink tea!” He said in his Cap voice, rushing off to the sound of Bucky’s raspy laughter.

[l223m0nade]

Hellooo! I hope your holiday season has been going well!

Unfortunately I have caught covid and am being miserable and I’m desperately craving some sick Bucky and caring Steve. Could I possibly request a fic? Only if you have time and want to!! Otherwise I’ll keep rereading your existent fics 😅❤️

Hi friend!!! I'm so sorry you're sick but I'm so happy to get this (my first! 😃) ask! Something's been knocking around in my head involving a cold with little fits of sneezes that start out super light and quick but get heavier, so here's where that inspo got me with our sweet blorbo.

(I set this in a canon-divergent AU where the Winter Soldier came in before Age of Ultron and everyone’s fine and happy at the New Avengers Facility in upstate NY, just fyi, don’t really need context it’s just a bit of fluff)

The mission turned out a complete success, though it was hard-earned. Bucky felt his shoulders slowly start to relax as he dumped his wet dirty gear on the quinjet floor with a sigh of relief. He looked over to where Sam was patching up Steve, who’d taken a piece of shrapnel to the thigh, and determined that Sam was giving him enough shit for being reckless and cocky for the time being without his help. Steve caught his eye with a sheepish smile and he smirked in response, shaking his head gently and turning to his soothing post-mission routine of cleaning and organizing weapons and every last bit of gear.

He was dog tired, and cold, and achy, which was a little unusual, as was the scratchy sore inflamed feeling in his throat and the back of his nose. He brushed it off and began methodically wiping down knives.

He was halfway through disassembling his rifle when the slight itch in his face suddenly morphed into a tickle in his nose. The sneeze caught him by surprise enough that he barely had time to turn his face to the side. “Hhhtish!” It came out light and quick and unsatisfying, and he had to sneeze again immediately after. “Hhh-hh-Tsschu!” It felt like there was a third, but then the urgent tickle backed down. Didn’t go away, though, just fluttered teasingly between his nose and throat. He frowned and rubbed his whole face roughly. That was annoying. He refocused on the equipment spread out in front of him.

Steve watched Bucky diligently clean every last weapon and bit of gear, including some not his own. This was familiar all the way back to the war: it was how he came down from the tension of the mission, how he kept from overthinking about what could have happened or what might happen next time. He’d told Steve something his first sharpshooting instructor had imparted during training: “There’s almost nothing you can control in war, but you can keep your rifle clean, and a clean rifle’ll shoot better, so that right there’s something.”

He felt pride swell in him. Bucky wasn’t a regular fixture on their mission roster. He spent most of his time on training and equipment R&D at the upstate facility. Fighting didn’t have the magnet-pull for him that it did for Steve; he could handle anything, but sometimes combat rattled memories loose that he preferred to keep quietly packed away. And he contributed enough to the team’s successes just by imparting his vast skill set and helping stress-test armor and weapons.

Sometimes, however, something from that skill set was crucial to a mission. This time, it was the stealth and resourcefulness that had the Winter Soldier known as a ghost for decades. To infiltrate the facility undetected and open a backdoor for the Avengers, Bucky had trekked for two days through snow-covered woods and dove to the bottom of a lake full of floating ice chunks, to find a water inlet pipe barely big enough to squeeze through until he reached larger unused half-flooded access tunnels. Eventually he’d made it to a server room, a silent shadow taking out patrolling guards without raising alarm, and there he’d input the code to scramble the perimeter security. Once that was done the rest of them came in hard and fast, and Bucky threw himself into the fight alongside them.

It had gone perfectly, but Steve was tired, and he’d only been there for the grand finale. Bucky must be exhausted. And cold.

Equipment finally put away, he settled next to Steve with a sigh. He slung an arm around him and Bucky leaned into the casual embrace, clearing his throat and rubbing his face with a dry sniff. “You’re still in all this wet stuff?” Steve asked, feeling the stiff cold of the tac uniform. “Buck, you must be freezing.”

He just shrugged. “Be colder to change in here. ‘Sides, we’re almost back, no need to show off my skivvies,” he rolled his eyes at Clint, who having no such compunctions was now lounging in a purple sweatsuit.

“The hell I’d’ve caught from you for staying in wet things…” Steve shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah. I earned my right to hypocrisy putting up with you all those years,” Bucky replied loftily.

“Anyone mind if we turn the heat up a little?” Steve asked to the room at large, and a moment later a soft gust of warm air was coming from behind them. Bucky gave him a look like he was being ridiculous, but he relaxed a bit more and gave a little shiver at the warmth. Steve smiled, pleased with himself.

A moment later, Bucky gave a confused little look, his eyes fluttered and his breath caught, and he twisted quickly to the side to half-catch a quick, soft “hhhtssh” against his shoulder. Steve could feel his chest move with a few shallow hitching breaths before he sneezed a second, fuller “huh-Huhtsschoo!” tucked into his forearm.

“Bless you!” said Steve, rubbing his back. “See, you did get chilled.”

Bucky shot him a warning look but the threat in it was dampened by the way he looked like he still needed to sneeze. It puttered out into a few dry coughs, and he rubbed his nose hard, which just succeeded in turning it pink.

“Hmm.” Steve frowned. “Are you getting sick?”

Bucky just scowled. “Fussy. Ever since you got big, I swear…”

But he relaxed another fraction into Steve, let his tiredness show a little more, and Steve felt vindicated, if still a little worried. “Turnabout is fair play, pal.” Bucky had a lot of blankets and tea and soup in his near future. Ever since he first learned they were somehow both alive in this century, PUT BUCKY IN BLANKETS AND HUG AND KISS HIM had been a more or less constant siren going off in Steve’s head, and he indulged it whenever he got the chance.

Less than two hours later, they were back in their shared quarters. Bucky had unobtrusively stifled his sneezes throughout debrief, but he was too tired to try and resist the fact that he was coming down with a cold now that it was just him and Steve. His head ached, his chest felt scratchy with occasional nagging coughs, and his whole face felt stuffed up and tender. It felt like no amount of warmth and rest would satisfy this achy, shivery feeling, and the feeling that he might be about to sneeze was pretty much constant now. It only sometimes followed through, and he kept getting surprised by little fits.

“Hehtsshh, hhh-heh-hetsshoo! Huh...huhh—huhhtchumpf!” He groaned as he straightened. He’d barely gotten his boots off before those caught him.

“Go on, get in a hot shower,” Steve directed. “I’ll grab some of your cozy clothes to throw on after.”

“Sheep pants,” he grumbled, shuffling off to the bathroom. They were the warmest.

“Of course the sheep pants,” scoffed Steve, “what do I look like, a shmuck?”

In the shower, he tried to focus on how good the hot water felt, instead of on how runny and tickly the steam made his nose. He let a few light, teasing, spraying sneezes out freely as he stepped out, dried off, and rushed to blow his nose, which was sort of productive but mostly just underlined how congested he was getting.

He smiled at the socks, underwear, hoodie, and thick soft fleece pants with sleeping sheep printed on them, that Steve had left out for him. Just as began to pull the sweatshirt over his head, his nose twitched precariously.

“Oh, co—hehh—come on,” he muttered, stuck ridiculously with his sweater around his head but paralyzed by the intense tickle in his nose, which decided to tease him instead of getting the sneeze over with. He scrunched and wiggled his nose against the fuzzy fabric he was trapped in. “snff...hhh, ehh...ehh—heh...hehhh...ehh—hhyISHuhh!” He growled, finally popped his head through the collar, and trundled out of the bedroom towards the sound of Steve in the kitchen trying to one-up the mother-hen coddling that Bucky Barnes had perfected in the 1930s.

Steve made tea and perused their canned soups while listening to Bucky snuffle and sneeze throughout the process of showering and changing, feeling a mixture of fond exasperation, tender concern, and bashful arousal which threatened to turn him pink. He didn’t like Bucky being exhausted and uncomfortable, but the rare sight of him all vulnerable and tickly-sneezy had always...done things to him.

And he certainly looked and sounded that way now, in soft clothes with towel-dried hair and tired, red-rimmed eyes, coming up behind Steve’s left to hook his chin on his shoulder and slide his arm around his waist with a sigh, a sniff, a cough, and another sigh. He watched Steve pour hot water over the teabag and add a spoon of honey, and then Steve twisted to kiss his forehead and try to subtly evaluate it for fever-heat. Maybe? He was never much of a nurse compared to his Ma and Buck.

“Go park yourself on that couch,” he murmured to Bucky, who gave a little raspy chuckle ending in a groan.

“Once I do, I’mb ndot getting back up for the rest of the day,” his voice had a different deeper resonance and he was so much more congested. Steve was about to turn and fold him up in a giant tender hug when he tensed with a little gasp and “ehtshoo,” sneezed right into his shoulder, no time to turn away and cover like he generally did out of what Steve considered excessive politeness. “Shit, sorry,” he said in a breathy quaver, as Steve continued his turn. He shook his head in warning, “snff, I gotta—hhh—snee-huhh—I’mb gonna huh-huh...huhhaaTSHhiew! Snff-snff uhh...sndeeze...hehh...again! EhhTISHooo!”

Steve realized he was just standing there, poleaxed by the sight and sound of Bucky’s completely lost battle with his relentlessly tickling nose, the way his voice pitched as he tried to get words out ahead of his sneezes. He was definitely blushing hot pink by now. He shook himself and cast about before finding a tissue box and handing a couple to Bucky, who gave him a bleary grateful look with his nose still buried in his sleeve, hitching on the cusp of a fourth sneeze. It teased him even longer than the others, until he looked up blinking rapidly and finally shuddered into it: “Ihhh-hihhh-hIHktcshhOO!” He almost lost his balance with how it bent him at the waist and how tired he was.

“Bless you, honey,” Steve cooed as he finally got his arms around him, and as Bucky groaned and gave a pitiful nose blow. “That was a great demonstration of exactly why you should spend the whole day on the couch.”

With blankets. Steve got him propped up on pillows on their massive couch, dashed off and returned with an armload of different colors and fabrics, all soft and warm, and proceeded to burrito Bucky as he chuckled and coughed and batted at him. His eye-rolling and scoffing was undermined by the way he snuggled deeper into the bundle of warmth with obvious relief.

Suddenly he stiffened with a pained look and took a deep hitching breath, nose quivering, threatened by yet another sneeze. After a long frozen moment, he sighed as the tickle deserted him, and gave his aching sinuses a rub. “God. I really do have a cold,” he croaked, and then coughed a couple times.

“Yeah, sweets,” Steve said tenderly, stroking his hair, “but I’m gonna take good care of you.” Then he leapt up and dashed to the kitchen and back. “Here’s your tea. I’m about to heat up soup, and you need to eat a bowl before you nap. What sounds good—chicken noodle? Chicken and rice? That Thai coconut stuff?”

Bucky gave him a quizzical smile and chuckled softly. “Aren’t you the guy who tells people, ‘If you get killed, walk it off’?”

Steve didn’t know or care what his face was doing right now, but once in a while Sam told him he had something called “crazy eyes.” They were probably going to team up on making fun of him when Bucky got better. “You need more pillows. And I forgot tissues!”

“Steve, baby—”

“Stay there and drink tea!” He said in his Cap voice, rushing off to the sound of Bucky’s raspy laughter.

[l223m0nade]

Headcanon that HYDRA wanted the Winter Soldier to be as quiet as possible when on missions so they trained him to sneeze very quietly when he has to and as a result Bucky now sneezes like a kitten

[l223m0nade]

i caught a cold ( ó A ò)

[l223m0nade]

Thinking about cowboys with horrible colds. Like you know those old timey shows (meaning whatever black and white silly cowboy show is currently playing in the waiting room while my tires are being changed lol) where people’s jobs aren’t really clear if you’re just watching an episode or two? They kinda just hang out and ride horses and then fight. I want a tough guy with a runny, sneezy cold trying to deny it in front of his buddies because he’s tough.

[l223m0nade]

Fic!! Steve’s on a phone call with a sick Bucky who’s away on a mission.

-Please do not reblog to non-kink blogs!-

***

Steve taps his foot impatiently, one hand on his hip and the other holding his phone to his ear. He’s been waiting all week to talk to Bucky while he’s been away on a mission. He’d gotten word that Bucky had picked up a cold or virus, though he hadn’t heard anything about his condition.

“Pick up…” Steve nervously mutters to himself. “C’mon, Bucky…”

As soon as Steve’s line goes through, he’s greeted with the sound of Bucky coughing harshly. “Jesus, you sound awful.”

“Gee, snfff! Tha’gks, babe,” replies Bucky’s horribly raspy and congested voice.

“I’m serious, Buck. How’d you get so sick?”

“It’s ndot- snfff! Ndot that-” Bucky suddenly takes in a sharp, ticklish breath. “Oh, fuck,” he swears breathily, “I’m g-gonna— huH’DTSHHieww!!”

“Agh,” Steve winces and recoils, Bucky’s loud sneeze reverberating in his ear.

“Sorry,” Bucky apologizes after a few moments of sniffling. “Sduck up on me.”

“It’s okay. Bless you,” Steve says. He sticks a finger in his ear to get rid of the ringing. “That been happening a lot lately? The sneezing?”

“Mhm,” Bucky hums. He sniffles thickly to provide evidence. “Feels like I can’dt stop.”

“Aw, Buck,” Steve pouts. “I wish I was there to take care of you.”

Bucky sniffles some more before muttering a small, defeated-sounding “me too.”

Steve feels his heart tug. “Can’t they just send you home early?” He asks after a beat.

“You ‘n I both kndow they won’dt send me home for a case of the sdiffles,” Bucky says sardonically, though there’s a hint of sadness in his voice. “But they moved me to strategy, so at least I’m off my feet.”

Steve sighs. “How much longer do you have?”

Bucky blows his nose before answering, his sinuses sounding absolutely filled to the brim with cold. “Guh, that’s so gross,” he mumbles to himself before clearing his throat. “Um, snf, a couple days? Maybe three?”

Steve lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Okay, alright,” he nods. “Two or three days. But if it’s any longer than that, just know I’ll fly out there and take you home myself.”

Bucky laughs. “I kndow you’re crazy edough to actually do that. But I promise that won’dt be nehh-! heh-!” This time Bucky manages to get his handkerchief to his nose in time. “H’NGXXT! NGK’TSHuhh!”

“Bless- goodness, bless you,” Steve says, voice full of concern. “God, Buck. You aren’t making this easy.”

“iH’Tsh! ‘KIEW! ‘m sorry.”

“Aw, bub, it’s not your fault. I just miss you, is all.”

“You won’dt, sdf, when I’m sdeezing all— sdfSDF! All over you,” Bucky says in between wet sniffles.

“Still will,” Steve smiles sadly, knowing Bucky doesn’t realize how much he means it.

Bucky takes a breath as if to say something, but ends up sneezing again instead. “huh’PTD’ISH! ’kSH! k’SHIEW!! Oh god…” he moans wearily. “‘m so sorry, Sdeve. Snf! I should prob’ly go.”

Steve pouts and makes a sympathetic sound. “Aw, Buck, don’t apologize. Go get some rest. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

Bucky sighs, exhausted. “‘kay,” he says before yawning. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bucky. I’ll help you get better the second you’re back. I promise.”

There’s a small sniffle and some shuffling before the line cuts out, and Steve’s left with his phone against his ear and an ache in his chest. The next few days can’t come soon enough.

[l223m0nade]

-please don’t reblog to non-kink blogs!-

***

It’s day four of Bucky’s cold, and instead of being on the mend, things are taking a turn for the worse.

“eh… heh’h… EH’ngxt! SnfSNF! geh… heh… hih’YISSHHOO!!! Ughhh...”

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose and sniffles thickly, the noise of it sounding like someone crinkling a bunch of newspaper. Though despite his sniffle, both of his nostrils immediately begin to drip, causing his raw skin to burn. He sniffles again out of instinct, then again and again as he feels another prickly sensation begin to bloom in the back of his nose.

He begins kneading his knuckles into his nostrils in hopes of appeasing the mass of sneezes (and he knows it won’t just be one) from coming to fruition. Then a sudden beam of light cuts through the relative darkness of his bedroom as Steve peaks his head through the door.

“Oh good, you’re awake. I thought I could hear you from downstairs,” he says softly, heading to sit at the edge of the bed. “Bless you, by the way.”

Bucky croaks out a weak “tha’gks” while pushing himself into a sitting position against the headboard. He pulls his knees towards his chest to make room for Steve to sit.

“Here, babe,” Steve says, handing Bucky his favorite mug- the one with the heart shaped Captain America shield on it- filled with tea, honey and lemon.

Bucky accepts and holds the hot drink to his chest. However the second the steam hits his nose, he feels his sinuses spring into action. Bucky quickly shoves the cup back into Steve’s hands then hastily pulls his blanket up to his face.

“iihh’XXTSHHHiiew!! Oh, snf! G’TSSHHHT!” The sneezes are harsh- much harsher than his usual contained, often kittenish sneezes. These ones seem to shiver right out of him, leaving him exhausted and horribly sniffly.

“Bless you,” Steve pouts, hating the fact that his guy is so sick and miserable.

“S-sorry,” Bucky exhales lowly. He plucks a tissue from his nightstand and snuffles into it, sounding dreadfully congested.

“Shh, don’t apologize,” Steve says as he sets the mug on Bucky’s bedside table. He then leans closer to lay a gentle hand over Bucky’s forehead. “You’re feeling a little warm, honey.”

Bucky coughs a few times into his tissue before pitching it into the tiny waste bin next to the bed— which will soon be due for an emptying if he continues at this rate.

“My shoulder’s been actin’ up too,” he says while rolling his left shoulder with a wince, “so I wouldn’t be surprised if I’ve got a fever.”

“I think you do, sweetheart,” Steve says regretfully. Bucky then takes in a big, gurgling sniffle, which only makes Steve’s frown deepen. “Jeez, your head sounds so stuffed up, Buck. I hope this isn’t another sinus infection.”

“Ugh,” Bucky groans upon remembering the sheer misery he endured during last year’s Thanksgiving. He felt so bad that he couldn’t leave his bed for a full week. “I hope not.”

Just then, Bucky’s sinuses twinge. Before anyone can do anything, Bucky’s pinching his nose shut and shaking with three- no, four- five- six- seven sneezes, each of them squelchy and miserable sounding.

Steve raises his eyebrows once Bucky opens his eyes. “Doctor?”

Bucky coughs and sniffles into his arm before letting out a defeated groan. “Fine.”

[l223m0nade]

Ste/vebucky fics

-Sick in bed

-Pre-war Bucky’s cold

-Fall allergies

-Scented candles

-Caught in the rain

-Super allergic sneezy Bucky

-Steve’s birthday

-Unknown allergy

-Sick Bucky - grad school AU

-Middle of the night

-Sinus infection

-Road trip

-Allergy talk

-Can’t sneeze

-Red nostrils

-Middle of the night caretaking

-Softkink!cap & chronically allergic Bucky

-Softkink!cap & sick&allergic!bucky

-Checking in

-Sick for the holidays

-Springtime/Bucky’s birthday 2023

-Doctor’s visit

-December nights

-Farmer’s Market

-Bucky’s bad day

-Tony fixes Bucky’s arm

-Bucky startles Steve

-Rainy day

-‘Sdeve’

-Counting sneezes

-Sorta NSFW allergic Bucky

-Steve waters Bucky’s plants

-Sleepy sneezes

-Picnic party/Bucky’s birthday 2022

-In plain sight

-Beach day

-Science partners part 1

-Science partners part 2

-Chilly day in Brooklyn part 1

-Chilly day In Brooklyn part 2

-Allergic to Christmas

-Missed date

-Shy Bucky

-Bucky tried to sneak out while sick

-My first fic!!

Do not reblog to non-kink blogs!!!

[l223m0nade]

A classic sneezing while hiding scenario. One person trying not to sneeze while the other person is helping them hold it back, maybe with the whole finger under the nose thing. The usual right?

Except the person helping the other hold back the sneeze ends up sneezing instead. Maybe the dust just crept up on them, or maybe they were a sympathetic sneezer. Who knows.

The irony is just too good.

[l223m0nade]

Happy Halloween my snzblr-eens 👻🖤🧡🖤🧡

I wish I had more of a treat but here's a snz thought: a pair or group trespass-exploring a spooky old maybe haunted but definitely dusty house; one of them has dust allergies and maybe is catching a fall cold, cue sneezing and sniffling and shushing and trying and failing to be quiet and sneaky and stifle

[l223m0nade]

someone stifling until they just /can’t/ anymore. they have to release a spraying, desperate sneeze or their nose will just berate them with stifle after stiftle

[l223m0nade]

So, I don't know Bucky or the fandom at all, so no idea which ones that fit the best, but how about 🌧️ and ☕ perhaps? 😊

Aw these are cute emojis! Thanks for the prompt I appreciate it ☺️

Prompt: rain and warm drinks

A little pre-war boys 🥰

-Please don’t reblog to non-kink blogs!!-

***

“You promise you’ll be alright on your own?”

“Yes, Bucky, I’m not even sick anymore. Just got a small cough left. Now stop fussing and go to work.” Bucky smiles and ruffles Steve’s hair.

“Alright, punk. Just keep your ass in bed and eat the leftover chicken soup when you get hungry, okay?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I know, I will. Now get out of here!”

Bucky holds out a middle finger as he leaves. Steve returns the favor, making Bucky laugh as he steps into the hallway.

“Punk!”

“Jerk!”

Then their apartment door closes and Bucky takes a deep breath. He lets his fatigued body slump against the door, trying to keep himself together.

Although he wouldn’t admit it, simply pretending that everything was fine took a lot out of him. He did it so as to not worry Steve- but the truth is, Bucky feels awful.

He doesn’t even know if what he has is the same cold Steve just got through. All he knows is that his body aches so much that it physically hurts to be awake, there’s a stupid buzzing sensation in his nose that makes him feel like he’s about to sneeze at any moment and his throat is so painfully sore that it feels like he’d swallowed a bunch of pushpins for breakfast.

To make matters worse, it’s a cold and rainy day outside. A shiver wracks Bucky’s body just imagining spending hour after hour lifting boxes and crates down at the docks with his gloves that barely keep his hands warm and a hood that doesn’t do much to protect his face from the biting wind. The mere thought of the 12 hour shift ahead of him is enough to make him want to turn around and crawl back into bed. But he doesn’t have a choice; he needs to bring the money home so he can put food on the table, keep a roof over their heads and afford medicine for Steve.

Bucky lets out a heavy sigh, sniffles then runs a hand under his nose. It’ll be over eventually.

***

“Hey Buck!”

It’s just after 7pm when Bucky walks into their apartment to find Steve sitting at the kitchen table focused on a new drawing, empty bowl of soup pushed to the side to make room for his sketch pad and pencils. Steve wears a plain white t-shirt and jeans- a nice change from the pajamas he’d been wearing since getting sick. The color seems to have fully returned to his skin, which is a good sign.

“You look like you’re feeling better,” Bucky says as he steps out of his wet work boots, red-cheeked and sniffling.

“Yeah, I am.” Steve sets his pencil down and turns in his chair to face Bucky, who’s now hanging his jacket on the coat tree. “Feel pretty much back to normal.”

Bucky turns to Steve with his hands in his pockets, trying to flash him a warm smile without seeming like he’s sick, exhausted and in pain.

“That’s great, Stevie,” he says, feeling what’s probably the hundredth sneeze of the day barreling through his sinuses. “Glad to h-hear… gl-glad to… to hear… huh’ptshtsh!”

Bucky snaps forward, barely catching his sneeze against his forearm. The sneeze comes out all heavy and urgent-sounding, like his nose had been desperate to let it out. It’s nothing like Bucky’s usual sneezes, however, which generally come out softer. He’s normally able to finish his thought before he lets himself sneeze.

Steve’s eyes go soft, knowing exactly what that harsh, stuffy-sounding sneeze means. “Bless you.”

Bucky frowns while rubbing the heal of his palm against his drippy nostrils. “Hey, snf, that’s my line. SnfSNF!”

Steve gets out of his chair and approaches Bucky, who still stands next to the coat tree, only now his shoulders are slumped with exhaustion. He suddenly feels really really small. Steve reaches up and pushes Bucky’s brown hair back in order to lay a hand over his forehead.

“Hm,” he hums regretfully. “Not anymore, bug.”

Bucky looks as if to argue, but a pitchy gasp interrupts whatever he was about to say. He hastily pulls the collar of his shirt over his face, takes a dramatic inhale, then:

“huhH’gDTSHZTSH!! Oh- huh-! huH’gxxTSHOO!!”

With each sneeze, Steve is able to see the fabric of Bucky’s shirt puff out from the force of his nose.

“Oh god,” Bucky mumbles thickly, face still buried beneath his shirt, “I deed a tissue.”

Taking the cue, Steve heads to the kitchen, grabs the box from the counter and pulls out a decent handful on his way back to his sick boyfriend.

“Here, sweetheart,” Steve says as he presses the wad into Bucky’s hand. “And bless you.”

It takes Bucky a good minute to clean himself up, snuffling and sniffling and blowing his nose.

“Aw, honey, you sound miserable,” Steve pouts as he reassuringly rubs Bucky’s back.

“Well, snf! I’ve defiditely beed better.” Just as he says that, he suddenly sways on his feet, having to steady himself against the wall with an extended arm.

Steve hurriedly wraps an arm around Bucky’s slim waist. Although he’s much smaller than Bucky, it seems that he’s the stronger one of the two at this moment. “Here, let’s go to the kitchen. I’ll make you some tea, alright?”

Bucky barely nods, the action taking up too much energy for his sick body. It’s almost as if the adrenaline and survival mode from the day has worn off and his body suddenly registered just how ill and weak he truly is. He uses the last teensy bits of stamina he can muster to get himself to the kitchen. Then he all but collapses into the chair Steve had been sitting in earlier.

Steve lets out a huge sigh once he deposits his much bigger counterpart into his seat. He has to turn to cough into his arm before taking a minute to catch his breath.

Then Bucky practically shakes the table with a vicious sneeze, making Steve turn his attention back.

“h’gxXT’SHuuu!”

“Aw, you poor thing. Bless you,” Steve says, taking that as a cue to start getting the tea together. He begins to fill the kettle with water when Bucky takes in a sharp, ticklish inhale, his nose clearly not finished.

“Ugh-??! hih’PTSHtsht ahH’TSHOO!!!”

“I don’t think I’ve heard you sneeze like this since you babysat Mrs. Greene’s cats last summer.”

“Beed sdeezi’g like this all- h’hh-! All day. h’GTSSHHT! Ugh, ‘scuse be.”

Bucky then raises three tissues to his face and unleashes a squelching nose blow- though it barely makes a dent in his congestion.

“I don’t like that you went to work like this, bub,” Steve comments over his shoulder as he gets the water boiling.

Bucky simply shrugs. It’s not worth arguing back when he knows Steve’s right.

“Wow,” Steve chuckles, “you must really be sick if you’re not disagreeing with me.”

“I cad barely talk, jerk,” Bucky rasps with a slight grin. God, he really does feel terrible, though. He might even regret having made himself hustle through work- which is completely unlike him.

“I know. Just teasin’,” Steve smiles.

It takes about ten minutes for the water to boil and for Steve to put together a mug of green tea with a tablespoon of honey. Within those ten minutes, Bucky runs through four more sneezes and seven tissues.

“Oh, snnff, tha’ngk you, Stevie,” Bucky says as Steve places the steaming mug in front of him, snuffling into tissue number eight.

Steve wraps his arms around Bucky from behind his chair and plants a kiss to his cheek. “You’re welcome, Buck. You’ll start feeling better soon. I’ll make sure of it. Just like you’ve done for me.”

[l223m0nade]

cw: nsfw (smut!)

Thinking about a top with a vicious headcold (A) and a bottom with the kink (B)... so while they're at it, A gets caught in one of his prolonged sneezing fits and with every sneeze he releases over B's back, B's body is contracting involuntarily in both, pleasure and arousal, causing A in return to moan not just because he has to sneeze yet again...