#1930s bucky barnes

[sjsmith56]

Faces of Bucky Barnes

Summary: One shot of an interaction with the multiverse that affects Bucky Barnes during a tough time in his life.

Length: 7.4 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes from 2024, Bucky Barnes from 1938, Jim Barnes (son of another AU Bucky from 1971), Bucky Barnes from 1998 (AU).

Warnings: some references to drug use, domestic abuse, alcohol abuse, and suicide but it’s not really a dark fic.

Author notes: Set at the same time as Spider-Man: No Way Home but only connected in a roundabout way. Also slightly connected to What If? Season 2, Episode 2, What If? ... Peter Quill Attacked Earth's Mightiest Heroes.   Images in the banner were created by the author using the Microsoft Copilot App in Designer mode.

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It was Bucky's favourite place to go when he needed to get out of his head for a while. A rooftop on an empty warehouse that overlooked an approach to the Brooklyn Bridge was the perfect location to sit at night and see the bridge that he had grown up with all those years ago, before the war, before HYDRA, before the Avengers. Before everything became fucked up again.

This time, it was Alexander Ross who set in motion the latest attempt to rope Bucky into doing something he didn't want to do. The man just wouldn't take no for an answer.

"You served your country before, then you served HYDRA. I'm just asking you to serve your country again. Then we'll call it even."

Those were his exact words. As if Bucky's service in World War II wasn't enough, all by itself. As if fighting Thanos twice and containing the Flag Smashers also wasn't enough. Why couldn't Bucky just be left alone to do what he wanted? Why couldn't he tinker with old cars and motorcycles, keeping them in good repair for enthusiasts who still appreciated how things were made before. The sound of a siren on the bridge caught his attention and he focused on a police car in pursuit of someone. That part was still very much the same now as it had been then, even though the subway cars and vehicles crossing the bridge looked different. There were always going to be people who lived on the wrong side of the law and those who would hunt them down.

Why did Ross think it should be him doing the hunting? The man wouldn't even say who it was he wanted Bucky to hunt down but deep down the super soldier knew that Ross saw a lot of good people as enemies and that's what bothered him the most. For all he knew Ross wanted Bucky to go after Sam, or even Peter Parker, and that would never happen.

Peter Parker, that kid was facing problems just as bad as Bucky had it. He just couldn't seem to catch a break. Why couldn't they leave him alone as well? Let him go to college, marry his girlfriend, have a family. He was a good kid, and a smart one. But no, certain segments of society were out to pigeon-hole him as a threat.

"Stop," he said out loud. "Breathe. Peter will be okay. You can tell Ross no and you'll be okay. Life will go on."

A sound of a portal opening behind him made him shake his head. How did the sorcerers always find him? He turned around to see if it was Dr. Strange or Wong, but he didn't expect to see what he saw there and stood up, facing the young man, with his face, his much younger face, dressed in a brown suit.

"What just happened?" The younger version asked, his face a mask of surprise. "I'm in Brooklyn, cuz that's the Brooklyn Bridge so that must be Manhattan but it ain't nothin' like the New York I know. Who are you?"

His Brooklyn accent was strong, much stronger than Bucky's accent of 2024. He studied the current version carefully, lingering on his eyes, recognizing him. Approaching him where he stood near the edge, he looked up at him, puzzled that this older man with his face was taller.

"Are you me?"

Fuck it. The guy just walked through a portal from the 1930s based on that suit that Bucky remembered wearing then.

"James Buchanan Barnes, born March 10, 1917, is the day I was born, in Indiana," replied Bucky. "Moved here when I was a little kid. You?"

"Same," he replied. "You're older and taller than me and dressed different. What year is it?"

Older Bucky smiled a little. He read a lot of science and fantasy fiction when he was younger so the thought of it being a different year obviously came easily to his other self.

"2024, and before you say that makes me 107 years old, yes, I am that, technically. But there's a reason I'm still alive and I'm not sure I'm supposed to tell you. What I can do is phone someone to get you back home."

The younger Bucky smirked. "Hate to break it to you, pal, but there ain't a pay phone up here."

It was older Bucky's turn to smirk as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialled Dr. Strange. His smirk turned to a frown as the call went to voice mail.

"Hey, Strange, it's Bucky Barnes," he said into the phone. God, he hated voice mail. "I'm talking to a version of myself from ...." He looked at his younger self. "What year exactly are you from?"

"1938, was headed out for my 21st birthday party. Supposed to pick up Steve then meet Dot and a bunch of friends at a dance hall in Rockaway Beach."

Fuck, he was such a punk then. "The younger version of me says he's from 1938. Are you messing around with the multiverse again? Call me back, or better yet, get over here. I'll keep my phone on so you can locate it."

He hung up then noticed his younger self looking curiously at it.

"It's called a cell phone. There aren't many pay phones these days as nearly everyone has their own personal phone, even homeless people. It's used for more than that. You can pull up maps, watch movies, television shows, play games, even pay for things."

He shrugged. The younger man looked back at the Manhattan skyline, his eyes taking it all in.

"I can still see the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building," he said, "but look at the height on some of those others. People live in those?"

"Most are office buildings," replied older Bucky. He sighed. "Not sure what's going on as you shouldn't be here. The guy I phoned is a sorcerer acquaintance. He should be getting back to me."

"Sorcerer? Seriously? They're around in the future?"

"They were around in the past," said older Bucky, "but more hidden and secretive. The ones now have had to be more visible because of ... stuff."

The sound of another portal behind them had them both turning to the source. Young Bucky's face transformed into something incredulous as the telltale sparkle of light appeared and grew larger, except it wasn't a sorcerer who came through. It was another version of Bucky, definitely from the multiverse because he was young, but he looked like he came from the 1960s or 1970s, as he had long hair, a Fu Manchu moustache and wore bell bottom jeans and a jean jacket. He came through, watching the sparkling circle close then noticed the others standing there.

"Far out," he said, as the portal closed behind him. "That was some trip." He noticed the 1930s version of himself. "Cool threads, man. Got a 1930s vibe going there." He looked closer at the two of them. "Weird. You look like me, except you're older and you're younger. Dude, what's happening?"

"Did you understand that?" asked 1938 Bucky.

"Some of it," said original modern Bucky. "Not sure what's going on, but I think you two appeared here from your original universes. What year was it before you came through the portal?"

"1971," replied the long-haired version. "I smoked up a little while ago, thought maybe I was hallucinating. This is real? What year?"

"2024," answered 1938 Bucky as he glanced at original Bucky. "He smells of reefer."

"Reefer." The long-haired man laughed. "They haven't called it that since the 1940s. What do they call it now?"

"Weed, mostly or cannabis," said original Bucky, sighing. "Can't believe I'm having this conversation. It's legal now, at least in New York, so they refer to it by brand names as well."

"No shit!" The long-haired man laughed again. "Like, you can buy it in a store?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

Bucky dialled Dr. Strange again, getting another voice mail prompt which made him hang up. This was definitely a multiverse thing but the fact there was a version of him that was born after the war meant he wasn't just in his original time frame. He was in different ones as well. Unless ... this guy was his kid.

"What's your name, when were you born and who were your parents?" he asked. "Sorry, just trying to keep things straight."

"Jim Barnes, Jr., born in 1950," said the long hair version. "My dad was James Buchanan Barnes, Sr., and my mother was Dolores Barnes. They split up when I was about 10.

Fuck, this guy was his kid. 1938 Bucky glanced at him, obviously thinking the same thing, as he mouthed Dolores' nickname, Dot.

"Why did they split up?"

"My dad was never right after the war," said Jim. "Lost his best friend in 1945 when he fell off a train during a mission. Tried to drink himself to death but never seemed to get there. He could out drink anyone, so he just got angry and eventually it got too dangerous for us to be around him. Us three kids stayed with Mom." He shrugged. "Not sure I'll be seeing any of them any time soon. I decided to go to Canada when I got my draft notice. It's just a matter of when."

Modern Bucky felt his stomach do a flip. Steve must have fallen off the train in this man's timeline, an event that obviously affected him deeply. This son of his was 21, in 1971. It meant he likely was drafted into the Vietnam War and didn't want to go. He glanced at the 1938 version of himself, who was frowning at this revelation.

"It was because of a war in Southeast Asia," Bucky murmured. "By all accounts it wasn't supported too well by the population. Some burned their draft cards and went to Canada. Stayed there, too." He looked at Jim sympathetically. "Can I ask you something? Are you strong? Like really strong? Can you handle your alcohol well?"

"Yeah," said the younger man suspiciously. "Takes a lot to get me buzzed. Sometimes, it's not worth the trouble." He frowned. "I'm not a coward. I am strong but I don't want to fight anyone. It's a bogus war, man. Rich boys can get deferments or get into the Coast Guard or the National Guard and not have to go over but even they've been involved in some killings. The killing of those four students in Ohio last year was the last straw for me. I'm not firing against American citizens."

His dad obviously never told anyone about what HYDRA did to him and he passed on his abilities to his kids. No wonder he was trying to drink himself to death. The guilt over Steve's death ... wait, if Steve fell, did he become.... He shook his head, clearing that thought.

"Your dad, is he still alive?"

Jim swallowed, looked at the Brooklyn Bridge with obvious pain then back at Bucky.

"No, he put a bullet in his head a couple of years ago, after my older brother Steve came back from Vietnam missing an arm. That's another reason I'm not going. If anything happened to me, it would kill my mom and as fucked up as I am, I do love her. I love Steve and Rebecca as well."

Bucky placed his hand on Jim's shoulder, patting it sympathetically. The sound of another portal drew all of their attention as the circle formed. What stepped out shocked Bucky, as this version of him wore a uniform that was obviously his universe's version of Captain America, complete with a dull silver-coloured prosthetic arm. His hair, longer than Bucky's but shorter than Jim's was clean and somewhat styled. He looked startled at the 1938 version of Bucky, then puzzled at Jim Barnes. Finally, he noticed modern Bucky, specifically the metal hand and approached him.

"What year?" he asked, gesturing to the skyline.

"2024," replied modern Bucky. "I've been out of HYDRA for ten years. You?"

"1998. I was sent to be Russia's contribution to a threat to the world in 1988 and escaped but I ended up in a car accident a couple of years later. Went into a coma. When I woke up it was 1994 and my old arm was gone but Tony Stark made me a new one. Somehow the damage that put me into a coma neutralized the trigger words. Peggy Carter asked me to be Captain America for the Avengers. What else was I going to do?" He shook his head then looked at the two younger men as they stood gazing at the Manhattan skyline, so different from what they were used to. "I take it these two are other versions of ourselves."

"Not exactly," said Bucky, gesturing to the 1938 version. "He's an original. The other one is our son. In his universe, Steve fell off the train and we tried to drink ourselves to death, never telling anyone what we were or accepting it."

"Shit, does he have ...?"

Modern Bucky nodded. "We should tell him, as it appears he's self-medicating a lot, unsuccessfully. Mind you it's 1971 in his world and he's just made the decision to be a draft dodger." He hesitated for a moment. "My words are gone as well, courtesy of a brilliant scientist. She designed this arm for me. You should know that Steve is alive."

"What? They said he was lost in a plane crash in 1945."

"Frozen in the ice. In this universe, they find him in 2011 and thaw him out. The serum kept him alive. He stayed here until last year then went back in time to be with Peggy. Cap in this time is another guy, Sam Wilson. He has wings."

"They didn't ask you?"

Bucky shrugged, then looked over to the Brooklyn Bridge. "Too messed up in my own head. I killed a lot, including Howard and his wife, in my timeline. I remember them all."

"I'm sorry." Cap Bucky placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder. "You are a good man. I killed a lot for HYDRA as well, but Peggy never held that against me. Neither do the other Avengers. I guess Howard died of cancer when I was in a coma. What you do in the here and now is what should define you. Easier said, I know, but still true." He took a breath. "So, what are we going to do? Sit here and wait for a sorcerer to appear? I could use something to eat."

Bucky looked at the others. "You guys hungry? I don't live too far. We could pick up some takeout and beer. I left a message for Dr. Strange. Once he checks his messages he should come and help get you back to where you belong."

"Food is good," said 1930s Bucky. "What's takeout?"

The other three smiled the same lopsided smile and Bucky gestured to follow him down a fire escape. They stopped at a Korean place that was still open, with the proprietor waving to Bucky from the kitchen, as he was a regular customer. He ordered several servings of everything, knowing that three of the four of them could easily finish it, choosing Korean fried chicken, beef and pork bulgogi, green onion cakes, japchae, bibimbap with rice, and kimchi. Although the staff gave the other three some second and third looks, they didn't say anything.

"This universe has seen some strange things, including aliens, androids and sorcerers," explained modern Bucky. "Seeing three other versions of me doesn't even come close to weird."

After dividing the food bags between them they made one more stop at a 24-hour liquor store with Bucky getting a couple of six packs of beer and a bottle of bourbon. They crammed into the elevator of his building.

"I only have a one-bedroom place," said Bucky. "Not much furniture but I'm good on the floor if you others want to take a chair. I'm living on an army pension so it's what I could afford."

When he handed off the food and booze to the others to unlock the door, he opened it and stepped back to let them in first. They filed in, dropping everything off on the small kitchen island.

"This is nice," said 1930s Bucky. "Clean, small but if it's just you it's enough. Nicer than that slum Steve is living in."

Both modern Bucky and Cap Bucky nodded, remembering that tenement room their best friend insisted on living in. Taking his meagre assortment of glasses out, Bucky poured out some bourbon in each one, holding his glass in front of him.

"Here's mud in your eye," he said, draining it in one gulp. "They've been kind enough to provide us four servings of rice, just take what you want from each of the other containers and dig in."

For the next few minutes there was no sound as they all went after the food, transferring portions into their individual rice boxes. Modern Bucky sat on the floor, leaning against the wall as the other three took the armchair, and the two dining table chairs that were there. Cap Bucky eyed the bedding on the floor.

"Sleeping there?"

"Yeah, bed's too soft," replied modern Bucky. "I manage a few hours every night."

Jim swallowed his food and looked critically at the two artificial arms. "What's with the arms?"

"Not sure I can tell you, exactly," said Cap Bucky. "Let's just say this Bucky and I have a shared experience where we lost our flesh arms, went through some shit, then got a new life and new arms in the process."

"Were you born in 1917 as well?" asked 1930s Bucky. "He already told me."

"Yeah, I was. Don't know if you'll go through what we went through. Jim's dad didn't, at least not the way we did."

"He had both of his original arms," said Jim. "But he was one angry guy. Ma said before the war he was a lot of fun but after ... he was a different man. She still loved him, but he hurt her and us, more than once."

"I would never hit a woman," stated 1930s Bucky. "Not Dot, I loved her."

The other two Bucky's looked meaningfully at each other. On a hunch, modern Bucky signed to Cap Bucky, who sat back and watched, nodding his head. He signed back, as the other two realized what they were doing.

"What can it hurt?" asked modern Bucky, verbally. "They've already seen two different versions of us, and how New York looks in the 21st century. Maybe, this Bucky is this guy's dad. If he understands what might happen, he can deal with it better, and I'm sure Jim would like to understand more of what his dad went through that made him the way he is. It can help him with his own timeline and whether he should go to Canada."

The bright blue eyes of Cap Bucky seemed to harden for a moment then they softened.

"Alright, we tell them both everything," he said. "We can't change our past but maybe we can change their futures."

For the rest of that night, the two Bucky's with prosthetic arms told their stories, amazing each other with the synchronization of their journeys until Cap Bucky's took a turn when he listened to Howard Stark and didn't kill a boy who only wanted to get back home to Earth. Both 1930s Bucky and Jim Barnes questioned them about details, about the things that they wished they had done. By sunrise, the 1930s Bucky had loosened his shirt and tie and was lying on top of the double bed in the bedroom. Jim Barnes had taken his boots and jacket off and was lying next to him curled up with his hand hanging over the edge. Cap and Modern Bucky still sat in the living room, leaning against the open wall, while finishing the bourbon.

"So, where exactly is Steve in 1998?" asked Cap.

"Buried in a glacier in the Arctic," said Bucky, reaching for one of his notebooks and tearing a sheet out. "Here's the coordinates." He watched as Cap looked at it, folded it up and placed inside a hidden pocket. "They were on a display in the Smithsonian. He's alive and they should be able to resuscitate him. I don't know if your universe will go through with what mine did but if it does, aliens start to show up in 2011, then Tony tries to make Ultron in 2014 to protect the Earth. Instead, Ultron went a little crazy and decided to kill humans. Aliens start looking for the stones ... that blue Tesseract is one of them ... and Thanos comes calling in 2018. If he does, remember to go for the head. Don't let him snap his fingers or else half of all life, everywhere, is just gone."

"What about you?" There was sympathy and understanding in Cap Bucky's eyes. "What's going on with you?"

"A powerful man wants me to work for him." Bucky looked at his metal hand. "By work, I think he means for me to hunt other enhanced individuals and bring them together so that he can control them. I don't want to do it but he's in a position to make my life miserable if I don't." He looked around at his little flat. "This isn't what I ever envisioned for myself. I'm 107 years old, living on an army pension that barely pays the bills, while waiting on the army to give me my back pay for all the years I was basically a prisoner of war. Half of society thinks I should have been shot for what I did as the Winter Soldier, and the other half are indifferent to my existence."

"You have friends though, right?" Modern Bucky felt his face get warm. "You don't think you're worthy of friendship, do you?" Cap sipped his bourbon, thoughtfully. "Obviously, I didn't kill as many people as you did when HYDRA, then Russia had me in their control, but the body count was still up there. I became a kind of vigilante when I first got away from them. I could hear calls for help and would get to people who were being assaulted. I hid myself a lot. Then, I got hit by an armoured truck and knocked out. Stayed that way for four years. When I woke up, Peggy Carter was sitting next to my bed. Tony showed up within the hour. A few of the Howlies showed up, old men all of them, but they were so happy to see me. None of them ever forgot about me and Peggy apologized for not looking for me, even though she suspected who the Winter Soldier was years later. I could have been angry, but the fact was that I could have also escaped sooner than I did. I just convinced myself that I was too far gone and not worth saving. I was wrong. Don't give up on life, Buck. If you don't want to do what this guy wants you to do, then don't do it. Call in your friends, tell the newspapers, expose his plans to the daylight. Fight for your right to have a life, to be just another face in the crowd."

"You make it sound easy." Bucky sighed. "I'm just tired of it. You know what I really want to do? Fix motorcycles and cars from the 1930s and 40s, find an understanding woman who doesn't mind listening to the old music with me, maybe dinner out or dancing once in a while, having a couple of kids and playing catch with them in the back yard. Getting old ... God, how I want to grow old." He rubbed his face. "Sounds pathetic."

"No, not at all," smiled Cap Bucky. "Sounds pretty perfect to me."

A portal began forming in Bucky's living room and both men stood up. Dr. Strange strode through.

"I got your message," he said, taking in Cap Bucky. "How many?"

"Three, although one of them isn't me. He's, my son."

Strange frowned. "Your son ... interesting. Well, get them out here and I'll send them back."

Modern Bucky went into the bedroom while Cap Bucky stayed out in the living room with Dr. Strange.

"Can you do me a favour?" he asked. "Is there any way you can make him appear like another face in the crowd?"

"That's what got me into this mess," said Strange. "A similar request from another person. You mean, no one would know who he is?"

"I mean, I think he would want to keep his friends because he doesn't have many and he shouldn't have to start at the beginning to find new ones." A crease appeared in Cap's forehead between his eyes. "All he wants is to live in peace, fix old vehicles, find the right woman and grow old. Is that too much to ask?"

Strange looked carefully at this version of Bucky, noticing the uniform. He had obviously come to terms with his own past if he was Captain America in another universe. The Bucky from this universe came out of the bedroom followed by a younger version of him from what appeared to be the 1930s and another from the 1970s. They were both rubbing their eyes as if they had been asleep for a while. The younger Bucky's eyes grew large at the sight of Dr. Strange.

"Sorcerer?" Modern Bucky nodded making the 1930s version grin. "Far out."

Jim Barnes grinned at the use of his term by the older Bucky. "He doesn't look like Gandalf."

"None of us do," deadpanned Strange. "Alright, let's get you two back to where you belong. No talking about what you've seen or heard. Frankly, people in your times will think you've had a psychiatric episode if you do, so keep it quiet."

With a wave of his hand the first portal opened, and 1930s Bucky quickly shook hands with the others before stepping through. Once that portal closed, he opened another one for Jim Barnes who looked thoughtfully at the two Bucky's then waved when he stepped back into 1971. Cap Bucky extended his metal arm to modern Bucky and the two men with the shared HYDRA past grasped each other's arms before releasing them. After he stepped through the portal only Bucky and Dr. Strange were left.

"Busy night?"

"You don't know the half of it," said Strange. "Is everything alright, with you, I mean."

"Thaddeus Ross is pressuring me to join his "team," said Bucky. "I think he wants to use me to hunt down enhanced individuals. Even though the Sokovia Accords are toast he still wants control of us."

"What do you want?"

"To find my own way, one that doesn't involve hurting people, or having to justify why I should be allowed to live," said Bucky, frowning. "I just want the life I was supposed to have if HYDRA never get their claws into me, unless I ended up a serial killer anyways, because I don't want that."

"That's fair," said Strange. "Excuse me for a moment." Bucky watched as the sorcerer did his thing with the Time Stone. When he came out of his momentary review of time, he looked at Bucky and smiled. "I don't think you have to worry about Thaddeus Ross too much. As for the rest, I'm sure things will look better. How was it visiting with two versions of yourself and a version of your son?"

"Interesting," admitted Bucky. "I should try to get some sleep. Cap and I stayed up all night comparing our HYDRA experiences. I'm glad to see another version of me got away from them."

Dr. Strange said nothing, just smiled his grim smile, opened a portal and stepped through.

March 15, 1938

"So, there's no connection between having your birthday celebration now and the Ides of March?" asked Steve as the two friends headed to the train station. "I was surprised when you canceled out last weekend."

"Nope, unless you're all planning to stab me in the back," said Bucky, waving to Dot and her friend. "Now, Margie is shy like you, but she's into art. Dot says she's always drawing something."

"She looks nice." Steve blushed as his friend put his arm around his shoulder and drew up to the two young women. "Hi, Dot."

"Hey, Stevie," she said, after receiving a kiss on the cheek from Bucky. "This is my friend Margie. She's in the art program at Pratt."

"Yeah?" His face brightened. "I just had a year at Auburndale but couldn't afford another year."

"Auburndale's good," said Margie, liking Steve's blue eyes and ready smile. "I was lucky to get a scholarship to Pratt. What's your favourite medium?"

Steve offered her his arm as they went up the steps. Bucky took Dot's hand, pulling her towards him, and wrapping his arms around her.

"Thanks for waiting until this weekend and finding him a date. I didn't want Steve to feel like a third wheel."

She shrugged; her red hair vibrant under the streetlight. "I don't know why I didn't think of pairing them together before. They're alike in many ways. Steve's a good guy. He just needs to loosen up a bit."

Bucky grinned then his face grew serious as he gazed at her. "I love you; you know. Have for a long time."

Her face changed at his declaration, as she smiled then placed her hand on his cheek. "I love you, too, Bucky. Now let's go dancing."

With their arms around each other they followed the other couple up the stairs to the elevated train station, waiting for the one that would take them to the dance hall at Rockaway Beach, the second dance of the spring season.

April 7, 1971

Jim stepped off the train, placing his satchel over his shoulder as he walked towards the exit. When he stepped back into his time after being in the future, he wasn't sure what to expect. But ending up in the library at Brooklyn College wasn't it. Hopefully, he still lived in the same house with his mother, brother Steve and sister Rebecca. On the train ride to their neighbourhood, he thought over what happened to him. It had been an interesting experience, that was for sure. Perhaps, he could write about it in his journalism class. His stop came up and he made his way to the door, stepping out into the cool spring evening air. It was only a short walk from the station to the house.

"You got mail!" His mother called as he stepped inside.

How she always knew it was him coming in was interesting. He looked at the return address, Department of Defence. Shit, it was his draft notice. His last deferment didn't go through. Stopping dead in the hallway in front of the stairs he stared at the envelope wondering whether to open it.

"You better deal with it sooner rather than later," said a familiar voice that shocked him.

"Dad? I thought ...."

His dad put his finger up to his mouth. "It's me," he whispered. "It's been hard waiting for this day, waiting for this version of you to come home and know the truth. I remembered what you wore that night."

"I thought we couldn't change our past," said Jim, as his dad took him by the elbow into the living room.

"I changed my future and that changed yours, but you had to get back here to know it," said the older Barnes. "I didn't join the 107th. I became a pilot and Steve became a reporter, drawing comics of the various soldiers he met as he covered the war. Some other guy became Captain America. Some other guy became the Winter Soldier. It still worked out for them because they were different guys, and their futures were different than ours."

"But our Steve still lost his arm," said Jim.

"Yeah, but he didn't lose us because I didn't lose your mom and you kids. We got him through it, and we'll get you through whatever that letter says." He placed his calloused hand on his son's face. "I think that's why you were there so that I would know you, know what you went through as a kid because of how I dealt with the things that happened to me in your timeline. I've tried really hard to be a good man, Jim."

His eyes were glassy as he said it and the two men hugged. Then Jim opened the envelope and pulled out the letter, making a sigh of relief.

"Coast Guard," he said. "They've taken my ... when did I become an experienced sailor?"

"Since I started taking you kids out on sailboats when you were kids," smiled Bucky. "Don't worry, it should come to you, once you integrate into this timeline. Your brother, Steve, ended up on a patrol boat in the Vietnamese river system, lost his arm when he was shot from the shore. With the Coast Guard, you could end up working from home. You don't have to go to Canada, although you'll have to cut your hair and shave that monstrosity off your face."

His grin showed Jim that his dad was joking, and they hugged again. Both men thought back to that night when they went from their respective times into the future and met two other Bucky's who had gone through hell. Something drew them there, to fix both of them, and to fix what was wrong between them. It was meant to be.

May 17, 1998

Bucky was with the team when they located the Valkyrie just under the top layer of the glacier. It had shrunk from when the aircraft crash landed into it in 1945. Since then, the one wing tip was slowly exposed, to the point where it showed up on an aerial survey done by the Greenland parks service, close to the coordinates given to Bucky in 2024. Carefully they had used steam to thaw out the door into the large aircraft, finding it mostly undamaged inside, although a lot of ice had built up from all the water that seeped in from the glacier. Then a corporal called to them when he spied the shield and Bucky hurried over there, brushing the frost away from the body that lay encased in ice under the shield.

"Steve," he whispered, confirming his identity.

The extraction team came in, carefully unthawing the ice several inches underneath the frozen remains, then lifting the icy block onto a stretcher, then into a Chinook helicopter. Bucky sat near Steve's body, watching as the block of ice was wrapped in thermal blankets to slow down the rate of the ice melting so it was gradual and wouldn't put his body into shock. By the time the large helicopter landed in Thule, they had the special medical unit set up, with Peggy and Tony waiting as Steve's body was wheeled in. None of them slept well over that week as they did everything they could to keep the thawing process stable. When the decision was made to start warming the body they waited anxiously, hoping that the information given to Bucky was accurate. Ten days after he was transported there, Steve Rogers opened his eyes and saw himself in a hospital room, with tubes and IV lines coming in and out of his body. He shifted, setting up a bunch of alarms, which brought a number of people running. The person he noticed first was already there, with a head of dark hair, long in length, a several day-old beard, and the blue eyes of his best friend, Bucky.

"Hey punk," said that best friend, grinning at him. "I thought I told you not to do anything stupid until I got back."

"Buck." Steve tried to raise himself, but several hands came out to stop him. "You're alive. You fell."

"Yeah, I did." Bucky smiled sadly. "I'll tell you about it later. The important thing is that we found you. A lot has happened since you went into the ice, but now that you're here, I think things are going to look up."

The two friends looked at each other with affection. Catching up would have to wait, as a team of medical personnel arrived to document the momentous occasion when a frozen body was successfully reanimated after over 50 years encased in the ice. It was one for the history books.

May 31, 2024

It had been almost two weeks since that night when the three portals discharged the two Bucky's and Jim Barnes on the rooftop of the building. Bucky had kept a low profile since then, although he phoned Sam, telling him about Ross's ultimatum to him. Sam was angry about that and raised a very public stink, which made Ross back off, although Bucky still had the feeling someone was watching him from afar. More than likely, he was being paranoid. On this Friday morning, he got up, hearing about a particular motorcycle for sale in Bensonhurst. When he got off the train he began the short walk to the shop. Frowning at the Closed sign on it when he arrived, he peeked inside the window, then noticed a back door was open. Heading around to the back he saw a woman, sitting in a lawn chair, with her feet up on a crate, a coffee on another crate while she closed her eyes in the sun.

"Excuse me," he said, making her eyes open, frowning at him. "I called about the World War II motorcycle. The man said I could come this morning to look at it."

She ran her eyes over him, then sighed. "That was likely my deadbeat brother. He's taken the bike. Said he had a buyer for it in the Bronx. Personally, I think he took it to his loan shark, to pay off some of his debt. Sorry that you came all this way for nothing." She shook her head, seeming to fight off some tears. "Hell of a way to run a business but what do I know? My dad left it to both of us and he's running it into the ground, while I'm trying to make it a going concern."

"Well, I guess the price he quoted was too good to be true," said Bucky. "I'm sorry to bother you."

He turned to leave but she called out to him. "Hey mister? There's another classic motorcycle in there. Needs some work but whatever price you want to pay for it, I'm willing to let it go for that. Otherwise, the bank will just seize it when they foreclose."

"I don't want to take advantage of your situation," said Bucky.

She stood up, surprising him with her height as she was only a couple of inches shorter than him.

"Come in and have a look at it, you never know," she replied, walking towards the open door to the shop.

They stepped inside and right away, Bucky felt comfortable with all the motorcycles in various states of repair. He saw several from the 1940s as well as some 1950s models. She stopped beside a silver motorcycle that seemed to be complete, a 1958 Triumph Tiger 100. He kneeled down, looking carefully at the engine, then stood up and examined the finishings.

"She's beautiful," he said. "What's left to do?"

The woman shrugged. "Honestly? I'm not sure what I'm missing. She starts up fine, then about a mile into the ride she starts running rough and by the time I get her back here she gives up the ghost. I've put a lot of time into restoring her but I'm missing something."

"You're the mechanic?" He noticed her look of dismay at his comment. "I'm not being critical. I'm impressed." He stuck his hand out. "Bucky."

"Angel," she replied, shaking his hand, then noticing his smile. "Yeah, it's my real name. I guess my great grandpa took one look at me when he came to the hospital just after I was born and said I was an angel. He's the one who started this shop, after World War II. He was responsible for the motor pool for the Howling Commandos, Sergeant Bruno Moretti."

She pointed to a large, framed photograph on the wall. With a smile, Bucky went over to it, grinning at the picture of the Howling Commandos as he bent closer to it. That's when Angel saw him in the picture, then looked back and forth between the man standing beside her and the man on the old photograph.

"You're Bucky Barnes."

"Yeah," he replied, then straightened up. "You're Sarge's great granddaughter. Did you know him?"

"No, he died when I was about a year old. Grandpa told me his stories about the Howlies ... that's what you called yourselves, right?"

Bucky nodded his head, feeling nostalgic at the moment. "They were a good group of guys. Sarge always kept us supplied with working vehicles. Didn't even mind when I would tinker with the motorcycles. Showed me a few things as well. Sometimes, I'm amazed I still remember it."

"Well, you've been through a lot," replied Angel. "It must be hard at times, stuck in a future that is so different. Sometimes .... Never mind." She looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"No, it's okay," said Bucky. "What were you going to say?"

"Well, sometimes I feel like I'm out of my right time," she said. "I mean, I like the old music, and even though I'm a mechanic, I'm kind of a girlie girl when I'm not knuckle deep in a greasy engine. It must be worse for you sometimes. I imagine you missed out on a lot of things because of what happened to you." She looked away again. "Sorry, I'm babbling."

"I don't mind. You're honest without being cruel and that's a good quality."

They stood without talking for a moment, comfortable in the silence, then their peace and quiet was shattered by the arrival of Angel's brother, Tony. Right away, Bucky didn't care for the guy, wondering how he was such a jerk compared to his sister. Eventually, he found that he had to leave before he was tempted to punch Tony and headed out the back door. Before he got very far, he heard his voice being called and turned to see Angel walking towards him. She handed him her business card.

"Stay in touch," she smiled. "We can go for coffee or something. If you want."

"Yeah, I would like that." He looked at her again. "Do you have your phone with you?" She nodded. He phoned the number she gave him, making her phone ring. "Save my phone number. We can talk about the different things you can try to narrow down that problem with the Triumph. Or maybe you can talk your brother into selling his share in the business to someone else."

They were looking at more than each other's eyes when he said that. Then Angel smiled and saved Bucky's phone number to her contacts. They began to walk away from each other then both turned to look back at the same moment, making them chuckle. With a wave, Bucky headed towards the subway station, feeling pretty positive about his prospects.

Please support the author by reblogging. Comments are also appreciated.

One Shots Masterlist

[elkleggs]

[nerds-yearbook]

In September of 1930, Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes met and became best friends. (Captain America: First Vengeance, online comic

[frost-queen]

Shameless (Reader x James 'Bucky' Barnes)

Requested by: @vviolynn,Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne

Summary: [Set in the 1930's academy life] Bucky and you have known each other for years but always end up in physical fights with him till your best friend points out that she thinks you like each other, changing your entire perspective. A classic enemies to lovers romance.

Heavy rain clattered on the stone buildings of the academy. Standing under the archway you tried to look if it would rain for any longer. School books clutched to your chest. A girl beside you was tripling impatient. You looked over your shoulder feeling a hand on your shoulder. A boy in uniform gave your shoulder a gentle push to squeeze himself between you and the impatient girl. He didn’t hesitate running into the rain. His friend following him close by.

Water splashed up from the puddles they ran in. Shouting a bit in displeasing to reach across the open courtyard to get to the other building. The academy was a beautiful historical artifact. Several buildings scattered around. Some connecting others not. An open courtyard in between the different entrances. Water droplets falling hard in the fountain.

The impatient girl became more impatient. Tripling in place as if she needed to go desperately to the bathroom. – “Ohh.” – she cried out hesitant if she should use her books to keep her neatly tied hair together. You held your hand out to feel how hard the rain was coming down. From behind you, you heard more footsteps. Rushed as they echoed off the stone walls. Before you knew it, you got pushed. Stumbling into the open rain, getting wet in the matter of seconds. Hearing him laugh loud, you turned round with a sour face.

“James!” – you called out clenching your hand. James ‘Bucky’ Barnes was laughing so hard his back arched a bit. Glaring at him, you stomped firm towards him. He was still laughing when you grabbed him by his tie. Pulling hard at it, he gulped when you nearly choked him. You dragged him into the rain with you. He sighed loud as the rain fell down on him. Opening his arms he looked at his uniform getting wet. – “That is what you get Barnes!” – you scolded as you were soaking wet already.

He clenched his jaw, glaring furious at you. – “You were going to get wet anyways.” – he replied mockingly to downsize you. As a result you slapped his hat off his head. His hat fell in a puddle. – “So were you!” – you responded not backing down. Bucky stared with wide eyes at his hat that was slowly getting wetter by the second he left it untouched. He picked the hat up in anger. You yelped when he grabbed you by the back of your neck, squeezing it. – “You are so going to pay for this!” – he said dragging you across the courtyard in the rain.

“Bucky let me go!” – you called out swaying your arms around. – “Do you have any idea how much this hat costed?” – he said loud, hinting to his formal school wear. One would resemble the uniforms you wore for war attire. Plain colors of brown and a dark forest green. The boys wearing a suit with a hat. The girls a forest green skirt with a white blouse, long socks, and black shiny shoes.

“Bucky let me go!” – you repeated as he still had you in a tight grip, dragging you through the rain. Having enough you stomped on his foot. Bucky immediately let go of you, hopping on one foot in pain. Seeing your chance you took off, but not before scooping up some water from the water fountain near you. Splashing the water in his face. Bucky got surprised, sighing so overly done with you. He started chasing you wanting to get his revenge. This was how it always was with Bucky and you.

For a few years now. The two of you always ended up in a physical fight for whatever reason. Always toying and taunting each other. You screamed loud when Bucky came chasing you. Running around benches and zigzagging to avoid getting caught by him. Someone whistled loud making Bucky stop. – “Buck! Hurry up. Class!” – one of his friends called out waving. Bucky groaned loud. – “This isn’t over Y/n!” – he shouted. You waved flirty at Bucky to tease him just that little bit more. Knowing how much you were toying with him that he couldn’t get you.

Bucky backed away, jogging over to his friend. The two of them ran through the puddles to one of the buildings. You ran to the other side as boys and girls were still separated. It was already a luck boys and girls were allowed to attend the same academy. You spurted inside glad to be out of the rain. You kept running in the hallways knowing you had lost a lot of time arguing and toying with Bucky.

Some girls were running as well trying to make it to class in time. Out of breath you rounded a corner seeing a swarm of girls waiting outside the classroom. Your friend waving you over. You slowed down panting to reach her. She took a tentative eye on you. – “You are soaking wet.” – she commented. – “Didn’t you run?” – she asked further. She was wet as well, but not as drenched as you. – “James.” – you breathed out letting her know enough.

“Are you guys still at it?” – she groaned rolling with her eyes. – “He pushed me in the rain.” – you said to justify your actions. She sighed once more, touching her forehead. – “You two are such children.” – she said lowly with a dismissive shake of her head. – “He’s the bigger child.” – you whispered to her when you heard a pair of heels click loudly against the stone floor. All the girls lined up by pair as the teacher walked past. She opened the door walking in first till you all went in. Ready for class to begin.

You sighed loud seeing it was still raining. – “What a grim day.” – you spoke holding your hand out to let the rain fall between your fingers. – “We still have to face it.” – your friend replied. You nudged her before running into the rain across the courtyard to head to the other building. She followed with a smile, catching up with you. The two of you ran as fast as you could. Water splashing up from the puddles you stepped in. Reaching the other side started both of you to laugh loud.

Brushing some droplets off your uniform, you followed her to the benches underneath the arched-way corridor that connected two buildings. At one of them were some boys sitting. They whistled loud for your attention when you walked past. – “Don’t be desperate John.” – Your friend called out with a smile. The boy grabbed his for his chest. – “Oh Carol you break my heart.” – he responded playfully. She laughed loud as they running over.

John threw his arm over Carol’s shoulder as David did over yours. Carol moved her shoulder, brushing his arm off her. – “Manners John.” – she said teasingly as you did the same. – “Oh Carol give my heart a break.” – he answered stabbing himself in the heart, falling a bit behind. Carol giggled loud. The boys followed Carol and you inside. You rounded the corner coming face to face with Steve. It startled him a bit as you noticed he was holding his hand by the wrist.

Steve smiled sheepishly. – “I’ve cut myself Y/n.” – he said nervously. You took his wrist, moving his cut finger closer to you. – “Do you perhaps have any bandages for me?” – he asked. You nodded pulling him back inside with you by his wrist. The other boys and Carol still following. You entered the dining room. Long tables lined up to have over two hundred students seated for diner. You sat yourself down on one of the long benches, sitting Steve beside you. Carol came sitting on the other side of you. 

John hovering over her as he had set his hands on the table in front of her. His two friends sitting across. – “What would you boys do without us girls.” – you said reaching in the pocket of your skirt. You took out a bandage pulling Steve’s finger closer to you. Beside you was Carol nudging John to give her some more space. John wouldn’t stop hovering over her as you were used by it now. The boys were always hanging around you girls since they knew how tentative you were to them.

Specially with those medical lessons you got. You blew gently on Steve’s cut seeing him get bashful. You then wrapped the bandage around his finger. – “You need a kiss on that Steve?” – Paul outed leaning with his hand against his jaw. Steve shot him a glare, kicking him underneath the table. Paul grunted flinching forwards avoiding a major hit against his knee. – “I’ve cut myself too Carol. I need a kiss as well.” – John said coming to sit beside her. He puckered up his lips as Carol punched him in the armpit.

“Jealous Paul?” -  you commented still holding Steve’s finger. Then out of the blue you got hit across the head with some papers. It made you immediately let go of Steve’s hand. Rubbing the back of your head you looked behind you to see who it was. Bucky was glaring seemingly to Steve when he noticed you staring, he started smirking. – “You still owed that Y/n.” – he answered with a mockingly smile. Bucky forced his way between Steve and you wanting to sit down. You rolled with your eyes as Steve scooted over. Bucky smiled grinningly at Steve before turning his posture to face you.

“My hat is ruined Y/n.” – he said coming to rest his chin on his knuckles. You pouted your lips mockingly. – “Poor Buck.” – you said sarcastically slapping his hand from underneath his chin. Bucky nearly lost his balance as some of the boys snorted loud. He grabbed you firmly by the chin, staring into your eyes with a hard stare. You stared right back at him, not backing down. Carol observed you closely, specially Bucky. – “You owe me a new hat Y/n. I’ll accept whatever payment you give me.” – he said smirking. – “Bite me.” – you responded as Bucky inhaled sharp through his nose.

The tension between your stare shooting through the roof. – “Alright, alright knock it off you two before we need more medical attention.” – John called out breaking it off. Bucky let go of your chin. You turned away from him. Bucky swallowed softly becoming aware of something. Carol kept a close eye on him, seeing the change in his eyes. The soft longing as it made her smile knowingly. – “Where are your manners Buck. Y/n is a girl.” – Paul said. Bucky smiled licking his upper lip briefly. – “She is an exception.” – he answered setting his elbows on the table to lean closer. He then glanced to the side, eying you. You wouldn’t give it any attention knowing how much it would stroke his ego.

Carol nudged you as you got up with her. – “Already leaving ladies?” – John asked. Carol hummed loud. Carol locked her arm with yours with a giggle. You let her pull you with her leaving the boys behind. Not only five seconds later got Bucky up, taking his leave as well. Carol lead you back outside standing under the arched-way ceiling of the corridor that connected this building to the next. – “Why are you smiling?” – you asked her confused.

She pressed her lips together making you even more curious. – “What? Is it about Steve?” – you asked seeing her shake her head. – “James.” – she laughed out. – “Buck? What about him?” – you answered confused. Carol came to a stop coming to stand before you. – “It is so obvious.” – she said making you quirk your brow up. – “What is?” – you replied unable to follow her thought train. Carol smiled sneakily as you demanded answers.

“What is?” – you called out. – “He likes you silly.” – she answered as your eyes widened. – “No he doesn’t.” – you snapped back in defense. Carol hummed loud. – “He so does Y/n you just don’t see it.” – she explained further. – “Why do you think he always taunts you?” – she asked. – “Cause he hates me?” – you answered wary. Carol shook her head. – “Cause he likes you Y/n! If he hated you, you’d be in the infirmary 24/7 but you never are. Sure you two get physical but never till someone is bleeding.”

Furrowing your brows you tried to follow her. – “I just saw the way he looked at you. Y/n I am telling you that man can’t breath without you.” – Carol exposed. – “And you feel the same way.” – she added as you took a step back into the rain. The rain sweetening your face as you were too stunned to even be bothered by it. Carol quirked her eyebrow up. – “Are you getting out of the rain?” – she asked seeing how stiff you stood. Getting soaking wet once more. – “Y/n!” – Carol turned her head seeing Steve rush over. – “Are you trying to catch a cold?” – he said worriedly, grabbing you by the wrist, pulling you back under the arched ceiling.

Carol turned her head seeing Bucky stand still at the end of the corridor. One hand in his pocket, staring at Steve worrying over you. – “three, two one…” – she whispered matching the exact pace Bucky got in motion. Heading your way. He grabbed your wrist pulling your arm upwards. – “I still expect payment for my hat Y/n.” – he said keeping his eyes on you. You slowly turned your head to look at him. You couldn’t even fight back.

Something inside of you had snapped, looking differently at him. Looking back at Carol you saw her nod and motion with her head. You wanted to test her theory out. You looked at Steve with a smile. – “I’ll keep good care of my health.” – you said feeling Bucky pull your arm more back. – “Did you hear me Y/l/n?” – he called out.

“I did James.” -  you answered pulling your arm down as it broke free from his grip. Bucky started to smile tauntingly. – “Good girl.” – he said patting you on the head. It annoyed you making you slap his hand off you. Bucky whistled loud snapping with his finger for Steve to follow him. Steve said goodbye to you before going after Bucky.

You watched them head towards their dorms as Carol came standing beside you. – “Told you. He is smitten with you, so smitten his jealousy became so clear.” – she told you with a smirk. Following Carol back, you couldn’t stop thinking about what she said. It was as if your gut got pulled out, twisted around, and put back. Everything felt out of sorts. You couldn’t even think properly off Bucky without feeling those darn butterflies tickle your insides.

You wanted to scream your lungs out. Everything felt wrong. The more you thought about him, the more your heart started yearning for him. In class you couldn’t keep your focus. Pricking yourself a few times in the finger while sewing. A good quality any lady should posses no matter the use for it. Carol had noticed how unfocused you were trying to get you to focus once more.

The rain had finally stopped when you walked back out after three more classes. You were walking alone as you noticed Bucky leaning against a wall. The moment you walked past he removed himself from against the wall, joining your side. He took you by the wrist, dragging you closer to the wall. Your back hit the wall as he came standing before you. – “You still owe me.” – he said eyeing you. You noticed he was wearing his hat again.

“Your hat seems fine.” – you commented with a teasing smile. Bucky chuckled. – “I still expect payment Y/n. So what will you pay me?” – he asked coming a bit closer. – “This.” – flapped out of your mouth before you even thought properly. Removing yourself from against the wall you stepped up to him. Grabbing him by his uniform, pulling him a bit down. Bucky gulped nervously when you looked at him with those eyes.

You tipped his hat off with a flick of your finger. Bucky glared but before he could do anything else had you kissed him. Bucky’s eyes widened slowly closing as he surrendered to you. His hands lowering on you, pressing gently onto your lower back. You felt him press you deeper against him, intensifying the kiss. He smiled against your lips slowly pulling away. – “How shameful of you Y/n.” – he whispered. – “Shut it Bucky.” – you said back kissing him again.

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[buckybarneswannabe]

Fic for @griminker

Steve and Bucky slow dance and it end up in an argument revealing feelings from

Years past .

—————————————————————————————————————

Are you still listening to the same song?” Bucky asked Steve walking into his room. Hearing the farmiliar hum of frank Sinatra fill the room . Steve chuckled, his gaze remaining fixed on the skyline of Brooklyn through the window.

"You still remember that?" he replied, amusement lacing his voice.

Turning away from the view, he faced Bucky with a nostalgic smile. "Old habits die hard, I guess."

“Why only 40s music though” Bucky asks, “You know more music has been created since then.”

Steve chuckled again, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I know, I know," he said, "but there's something about the 40s music...it's like comfort food. Reminds me of home, before all this."

He shrugged with a lopsided grin. "Plus, have you heard some of the modern songs? They're... interesting”

“I think it’s good” Bucky remarks, shrugging.

Steve's eyebrows shot up in mock surprise.

"You do, huh?" he said, leaning against the windowsill. "Bucky Barnes, man out of time, likes modern music. Times have truly changed."

He smirked. "You going to try to get me to listen to some then?"

“If ya want” Bucky said with a smile.

Steve let out a dramatic sigh, feigning reluctance.

"Alright, lay it on me then," he said, gesturing for Bucky to start. He crossed his arms again, a playful challenge in his eyes. "Let's see if you can convert me to the ways of modern music."

“Not converting you just showing you” Bucky says siting next to Steve and opening his phone that stark had given him, he was still figuring out how to use it but Natasha had helped him make his way around Spotify.

Steve watched as Bucky opened his phone, the glow of the screen casting a faint light on his face. He had to admit, he was a bit intrigued. He nodded for Bucky to continue.

"Alright, show me what you've got, Buck," he said, turning his full attention to the phone.

“I’ll start you out easy, you know Lana del Rey?” Buck asks.

Steve shook his head, his expression a mix of curiosity and slight skepticism. "Lana... del Ray?" he repeated, the name foreign on his lips. "Can't say I've heard of her. Go on, play something."

“Okay pic a song, do you want ‘Margret’ or ‘chemtrails over country clubs?” Bucky replies.

"Hmm... Let's go with 'Chemtrails over Country Clubs,'" Steve replied, his curiosity piqued. He leaned back against the wall, ready to listen.

As the music began, Steve's attention fixated on the soft melody that filled the room. It was definitely different from the 40s tunes he was used to but something about the singer reminded him of Sinatra. but there was something captivating about it. The beat was slow, mellow, and almost dreamlike. The lyrics were poetic, and the singer's voice was sultry yet soothing.

“What do you think? I chose her cause she sounds old timey in this song i guess” Bucky says to Steve.

Steve nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Yeah, I can see what you mean," he said. "She's got that old-Hollywood vibe about her. It's different, but it's... nice."

He was genuinely enjoying the music. It felt like a bridge between the past and the present, something familiar yet new. He looked at Bucky, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Alright, maybe you're onto something here."

“It’s slow dance music. You know” Bucky says nudging Steve.

Steve chuckled, shaking his head in playful disbelief. "Slow dance music, huh?"

He considered Bucky's words for a moment before feigning a look of horror. "You're not about to ask me to dance, are you?" he asked, trying to keep a straight face.

“No..” Bucky says quietly because honestly, he was going to ask. It’s not like it would be a crazy ask they used to dance in the cold air of their old apartment to kitty kaling and Judy garland. For gods sake, Bucky even taught Steve how to dance because he couldn’t get a single girl at the bar to give him a chance.

Steve noticed the way Bucky's voice trailed off, the hint of hesitation. He saw the flicker of something in Bucky's eyes that he recognized all too well.

"You sure?" Steve asked, pushing off the wall to face Bucky. There was a gentle knowing smile on his face, a smile that said he understood more than he was letting on.

"Because I might be persuaded to dance for old times' sake," he added, his tone lighter than it should be for the sudden intimacy in the room.

Bucky stared at Steve for a moment, surprise clear in his eyes. It was like Steve had read his mind. But instead of backing down, Bucky's gaze turned just as determined.

"Yeah," he said, more sure of himself now. "I'm sure."

Steve chuckled at his friend's stubbornness. He pushed off the window sill and extended a hand to Bucky. "Alright, then, old buddy," he said, his voice warm. "Just try not to step on my toes."

Bucky took Steve's hand, and for a moment, they were just frozen like that, the two friends and war veterans, holding each other's hands like teenagers ready to dance. Despite everything they had endured, this moment felt oddly simple and comforting.

Steve gently pulled Bucky closer, guiding him to the empty part of the room. "Remember those old dances we used to do in our apartment?" he asked as he placed a hand on Bucky's waist.

Steve didn’t miss the slight hitch in Bucky’s breath or the way his body went rigid. He could feel the tension in Bucky’s muscles, the way his chest kept still under Steve’s hand.

Steve didn’t say anything, just waited for Bucky to relax into the dance. He began swaying slowly, his movements smooth and controlled, guiding Bucky into the rhythm.

“Relax,” he murmured, his voice low enough for only Bucky to hear. “It’s just a dance, Buck.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know” whispered Bucky in response.

Steve could still feel the tension in Bucky’s body, but he could also feel him trying to relax. They continued dancing in silence for a few moments, letting the music fill the space between them.

“You know, it kind of makes me laugh,” Steve said, pulling back a bit to look into Bucky’s eyes. “Back then, you used to tell me I didn’t know how to dance. Didn’t have any rhythm you used to say.”

“You didn’t have any” Bucky smirked as he replied.

Steve chuckled at Bucky's blunt response. "Well, maybe not then," he admitted. "But I've learned a thing or two since then."

He gave Bucky a sly smile, his grip on Bucky's hips tightening just a bit. “I can at least manage a slow dance without stepping on my partner’s feet.”

“Partner” Bucky murmurs.

Steve chuckled, sensing the jest in Bucky's tone. "Yeah, partner," he said, his gaze holding Bucky's. "Is that such a funny thought to you?"

He continued the slow, steady rhythm of the dance, keeping Bucky close. The conversation was light, casual, but there was something under the surface that Steve couldn't ignore. The tension in the air felt palpable, and he knew Bucky felt it too.

Suddenly ‘One’ by Metallica starts playing ruining the moment.

Steve looked a bit taken aback as the slow song ended abruptly and a heavy metal track blared through the room, shattering the tranquility of the dance. He pulled back a bit from Bucky, turning his head slightly to look in the direction of the phone.

"What in the—" he murmured, looking back at Bucky with a puzzled expression.

Bucky chuckled at Steve's reaction his own amusement clear on his face. "Stark must have put that on my playlist," he said, reaching for his phone and turning down the volume just a bit.

Steve looked at Bucky with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. "You listen to this kind of music now?" he asked, still a bit bewildered by the sudden shift in sound.

“Sometimes” Bucky replied.

Steve chuckled at Bucky's response, his gaze raking over Bucky's body, noticing the way the other man visibly shivered at the sudden absence of his touch.

"You cold?" he asked, his voice gruff with a hint of amusement. He stepped a bit closer, his hands finding their way back to Bucky's waist.

“Stop.” Bucky suddenly.

Steve raised an eyebrow at Bucky's abrupt response, a slight frown line appearing on his forehead.

"Stop what?" he asked, his hands still resting on Bucky's hips, refusing to let go just yet.

“Don’t do this don’t hold me like that, don’t act like it the same as it was.” Bucky says frantically remembering how dancing before use to always lead to a kiss or something of the sort,and Steve clearly didn’t see Bucky in that way anymore so why go through the pain of false hope.

Steve's grip on Bucky's waist tightened slightly, his expression darkening a shade as he absorbed Bucky's words.

"What are you talking about, Buck...?" he asked, his voice a low rumble. "Act like what is the same as what was? I'm just dancing with a friend."

“Exactly, you are just dancing with your friend, so let go of me” Bucky says sharply.

The words stung a little, but Steve tried to keep his expression neutral. He held onto Bucky for a moment longer, as if debating with himself, before finally relenting and releasing his grip.

He took a step back, creating a small space between them. "Alright, fine," he said, his voice gruff, but there was a hint of hurt beneath it that he couldn’t completely hide. The distance between them felt cold and sudden, a stark contrast to the warmth and comfort that had been between them moments ago.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, his eyes avoiding Bucky’s for a moment, before he spoke. “You know, Bucky, sometimes I don’t understand you at all.”

Steve watched as Bucky grabbed his phone and started searching for another song. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, the easy camaraderie replaced by a certain tension, a distance that neither of them seemed to know how to bridge.

He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and waited for the next song to start, his mind still trying to make sense of Bucky’s sudden shift in mood.

As Bucky put the phone down and the new song started playing, Steve listened to the music for a moment. It was a different track, softer than the one before, but there was something melancholic in its lyrics that felt fitting for the mood.

He looked back at Bucky, trying to ignore the pang in his chest at the thought that maybe Bucky was right, maybe it wasn’t the same anymore.

“So, you like this song?” he asked, the words coming out sounding more indifferent than he intended.

“Mhm” Bucky mumbed Steve could tell Bucky wasn't in a talkative mood. The answer had been curt, almost dismissive. It stung, but Steve tried his best to push the feeling aside.

He shifted against the wall, his gaze fixed on Bucky, the dim light from the window casting shadows on his face. “Can I ask you something?” he said after a moment.

“What”

Steve hesitated for a second, not sure if he should ask. But the question was burning in his mind, and he couldn’t hold it back.

“Are we... alright, Buck?" he asked, his voice soft, almost tentative. “Because sometimes I feel like you... like you’re slipping away, somewhere where I can’t reach you. And I... I don’t understand why.”

Steve’s eyes bore into Bucky’s, his gaze intense and earnest. “Do… do you even like having me around anymore?” he asked, his voice surprisingly soft, almost vulnerable.

Bucky was caught off guard by the question. Steve's voice was not its usual firm, confident self but tender and vulnerable in a way Bucky hadn’t heard in ages. He swallowed, feeling his throat constricting suddenly.

A thousand thoughts and feelings raced through his mind, memories of their shared past, the pain and suffering they had endured, the fights, the joy, the sorrow. It all came crashing back, and it suddenly felt like too much to bear.

He looked down, avoiding Steve’s eyes, his voice quiet when he spoke. “Of course I do.”

Steve's shoulders sagged in relief at Bucky’s response, his breath releasing in a shaky exhale, almost like he had been holding it for too long. He took a step closer, his hand almost automatically reaching out to touch Bucky’s arm, but he stopped himself midway.

His eyes searched Bucky’s face, his expression a mix of confusion and hurt. “Then why do you keep pushing me away?” he asked, the question quiet, pleading.

Bucky could feel the sincerity in Steve's tone, the helplessness, desperation. It was like a punch in the gut.

He didn’t know how to answer that question, didn’t want to answer. Because the truth was... He wanted Steve close, always had, always would. But it was hard, so hard, to allow himself that vulnerability, especially because they had never discussed what they were now, they clearly wherent the same.

Bucky swallowed, running a hand through his hair, his voice low and hoarse. “It's just... complicated, Stevie.”

Steve felt his heart clench at Bucky’s words. “Complicated?” he repeated, his voice thick with barely contained emotion. “We fought side by side, Bucky. We’ve been through hell together. And you’re telling me it’s complicated?”

He stepped closer, his gaze fixated on Bucky’s face. “What is so complicated that you can’t even... even let me hold you when we dance?”

“No steve its not, we’re not”

Steve furrowed his brow, confusion and hurt clear in his eyes. “What do you mean, ‘we’re not’?” he asked, his voice low.

He took another step forward, standing just inches away from Bucky now. He could smell the familiar scent of Bucky’s shampoo, could feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Buck, I... I miss you,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “I miss my best friend. Why can’t we just… be like we were?”

“Because we are so different now” Bucky replies.

Steve let out a shaky exhale, his eyes searching Bucky’s face, trying to find any trace of the man he used to know.

“We’ve changed, sure,” he said, his voice gruff. “I know I’m not the same guy you first met, and neither are you. But… But we’re still us, Buck.”

He took another tentative step forward, his hand twitching with the need to reach out to Bucky, to touch him, to bring him closer. “Aren’t we?”

“No” Bucky replies softly.

Steve’s heart wrenched at the bluntness of Bucky’s response.

“No?” he repeated, his voice hoarse, “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through?"

His hands clenched into fists by his sides, the knuckles turning white with the effort to hold himself back. He wanted to yell, to shake Bucky, to make him understand. But he managed to keep his voice steady, even if it threatened to crack with every word.

Bucky took in a breath “We aren’t us anymore….you don’t, before when we danced. God - Steve you don’t even look at me the same”

Steve froze, his eyes widening as Bucky’s words sunk in. He could feel a lump forming in his throat, his heart clenching in his chest.

“What… what do you mean?” he managed to croak out, his voice weak. “Of… of course I look at you the same way. I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t do this” Bucky pleaded

Steve could see the pain in Bucky’s eyes, hear the plea in his voice, and it broke his heart. But he couldn’t pretend like everything was fine, couldn’t act like he didn’t understand.

He closed the distance between them, so close now he could count the specks in Bucky’s eyes, could feel the heat of his breath on his skin.

“Buck…” he murmured, his voice a low, agonized rumble. “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

“Steve” was all Bucky managed in response.

It was just one word, his name, but the way Bucky said it sent a chill down Steve’s spine.

He wanted to close his eyes, to look away, but he couldn’t. He was trapped, caught in Bucky’s gaze like in a whirlpool, spirally down into a dark unknown.

“Buck…” he tried again, his voice pleading this time, “Please… please don’t do this. Don’t push me away, not again.”

You dont love me anymore” Bucky said with a joyless smile.

Steve's heart plummeted at Bucky's words, shock and pain washing over him like a cold wave.

“What?” he breathed, the syllable barely loud enough to qualify as a word. “No, no, Buck, that’s not true. Of course I…”

He stopped mid-sentence, his words catching in his throat. He swallowed hard, trying to find his voice again, the next words ripping like shards of glass from his mouth. “Why… why would you say that?”

“You know why. Steve you can’t look me in the eye half the time” Bucky replied,his voice breaking

Steve’s heart twisted in his chest, guilt and shame washing over him like a tidal wave. He knew it was true, but having Bucky call him out on it was like a blow to the gut.

He looked into Bucky’s eyes, seeing the pain and disappointment there.

“I…” he began, but the words got stuck in his throat. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes falling to the floor, unable to hold Bucky’s gaze.

Steve felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. He wanted to tell Bucky how much he still loved him, wanted to hold him, to kiss him, to never let him go.

But he was frozen to the spot, the words caught in his throat, the guilt and fear and shame of everything that had happened, of everything he had lost weighing heavily on his shoulders.

"I…" he managed to force out, his voice strangled, "I never stopped loving you, Buck. Never. You know that, right?"

Bucky just looked back at him, pain etched into the lines on his face. “Do I?” he asked quietly. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

Steve felt his heart ache at Bucky’s words, the hurt in his voice like a knife stabbing into his chest. He wanted to explain, to tell him everything that was going on in his head, the fears and doubts that haunted him, but the words wouldn’t come.

Silent tears fall from Bucky cheek as he mumbles “sure as hell dont feel like ya love me.”

Steve felt like he was suffocating, his chest tight with pain and helplessness. He watched as the tears rolled down Bucky's face, unable to move, to speak, to stop any of this from happening.

“I do,” he finally managed to force out, his voice thick with emotion. “I do love you, Buck. I always have. I always will.”

The words felt hollow even to his own ears. He knew they weren't enough, but they were all he had. Steve reached out, his hand trembling slightly, and gently brushed away a tear from Bucky's cheek. His fingers lingered on Bucky's skin, feeling the warmth, the softness, his touch desperate and tender at once.

"Please, Buck," he whispered, the plea ripping from his throat, "Just... just don't give up on me. Don't give up on us."

The words hung heavy in the air, filling the small space between them. Steve's heart was racing, his breath shallow, as he waited for Bucky to respond. The silence was unbearable, the seconds stretching into eternities as he watched Bucky's face, searching for any flicker of hope.

Bucky's eyes were still on him, tears still glittering in the corners, his expression a mix of pain and indecision.

“Steve”

Steve swallowed again, his throat dry as sandpaper. He was hanging on by a thread, waiting, hoping, begging internally for Bucky to just say something, anything.

He reached out again, his fingers gently touching Bucky's chin, tilting his face up so he would look at him. "Please," he murmured, his voice ragged, "say something…"

“Tell me that you still love me.” Bucky pleas.

Steve felt a wave of raw emotion wash over him, tears prickling in the corners of his eyes. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to say.

"I do," he said, his voice firm now, strong, his eyes locking with Bucky's. "I do still love you, Buck. I'll always love you. You're my... my one constant. The best thing that's ever happened to me."

“Kay” Bucky responds.

Steve's brows furrowed slightly in confusion at Bucky's reply. It wasn't the response he had expected. It wasn't a rejection, but it didn't feel like a acceptance either.

He searched Bucky's face, trying to find a hint of what he was thinking or feeling, but his expression was guarded, unreadable. Steve took a step closer, his hand still resting on Bucky's chin, his eyes locked on Bucky's.

“Just ‘kay’?” he asked, a wry note of humor to his voice, masking his insecurity.

Bucky nodded, his gaze not wavering from Steve's. There was a silent tension in the air, an electric current passing between them. Steve's heart was pounding in his chest, his fingers still gently cupping Bucky's chin, his thumb gently caressing the stubble on his cheeks.

“So,” he said after a moment, his voice low, “that’s it, huh? ‘Kay’ is all I get after baring my soul to you?”

“Yeah.”

Steve felt his heart sink at Bucky's nonchalant response. After everything he had confessed, after baring his soul, this was all he got? Just a casual 'yeah'?

He let his hand drop from Bucky's chin, his fingers balling into a fist at his side. He took a step back, putting space between them, a flicker of hurt and anger in his eyes.

“That's it?” he repeated, his voice firmer now, the tone challenging, “That's all you have to say to me?”

“Steve?”

The single word, his name, hung in the air like a curse. Steve felt his frustration boil over, the whirlwind of emotions he had felt since Bucky first started talking to him now threatening to consume him entirely.

He took a step closer, his voice tight, his body tense. “Don't 'Steve' me,” he said, his hands clenched into fists by his sides. “Don't just ‘yeah’ me. I need more than that, Buck. I need... I need you to talk to me, damnit.”

Steve froze, his heart skipping a beat. He hadn't expected that response, and for a moment he just stood there, staring at Bucky in disbelief.

"What?" he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. "You... you want me to... kiss you...?"

A million thoughts raced through his mind, a mixture of shock, hope, and trepidation. But before he could say anything else, his body seemed to act on its own, his hands reaching out to pull Bucky closer to him.

Their bodies collided, Steve's hands gripping Bucky's hips, pulling him flush against him. Bucky's hands found their place on Steve's shoulders, his fingers digging into the fabric of Steve's shirt, pulling him closer, closer, until there was no space left between them.

Steve's heart was hammering in his chest, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He looked into Bucky's eyes, searching for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but all he saw was a mirrored desperation, a need that matched his own.

Steve leaned in, his lips hovering just above Bucky's, his breath mingling with Bucky's in the small space between them. He could feel the heat radiating off Bucky's body, could feel the racing of Bucky's heart against his own.

He lifted a trembling hand, gently brushing back a strand of Bucky's hair, his touch tender and reverent. And then, slowly, deliberately, he pressed his lips to Bucky's. The kiss was soft at first, gentle, almost tentative. Steve's lips moved against Bucky's slowly, carefully, as if he was afraid he might break, that this might all crumble away if he wasn't careful.

Bucky's hands gripped Steve's shoulders tightly, his fingers digging into the fabric of Steve's shirt, pulling him closer still. He parted his lips under Steve's, a soft, needy sound escaping him, the sound like a dam breaking.

Steve broke the kiss, pulling back just enough so he could look at Bucky, his eyes roaming over Bucky's face, taking in the sight of him, flushed, panting, his lips red and swollen. It was a sight that would be forever etched into his memory.

He leaned in, resting his forehead against Bucky's, his breath hot on Bucky's skin. "This is what you needed?” he whispered, his voice hoarse and ragged.

“I just need you to love me” Bucky whispers back. “ ya wanna dance”

Steve felt his lips twitch into a smile at Bucky's sudden change of topic. “Dance? You’re asking me to dance?” he teased lightly.

He moved, pulling Bucky so he was standing in the middle of the room, a fair distance from any furniture or other hazards.

“Sure,” he said, taking Bucky's hand in his. “I’d love to dance with you, Buck.”

[16woodsequ]

I was looking up tenement buildings for Steve research (because that's what I do in my spare time) and I found a picture of a New York synagogue and it got me thinking about Bucky and the synagogues he might’ve gone to, and anyway I just wanted to share

1934 Synagogue; Workers Unemployed Union Local 18, from New York Public Library Archieves

Unfortunately it doesn't say what part of New York this picture was taken in.

[ghostsandmirrors]

Thoughts: When within a mile of your Soul Mate you start hearing their thoughts. (From Steve)

He'd been walking home after work in the chilled winds, head down and hands in his pockets, and now he was hurriedly moving through Brooklyn in an attempt at finding the stupid idiot called Steve Rogers. Things had been fine until the thoughts kicked in. He'd hoped thinking 'don't fuckin' do it' would have stopped Steve doing anything, but he had a distinct feeling that it hadn't. It never had in the past, so he wouldn't have been surprised, but that didn't stop him wishing and hoping even if it'd likely never happen.

In truth, he almost marched right past when he did finally find Steve. It took him a moment to pause and turn around.

"Again, Steven?" he asked hotly, admittedly a little too irritated by it and he knew it wasn't all him; that wasn't how this all worked. "Did you even hesitate gettin' your ass kicked? Or just run in like it was nothin'?" Maybe Bucky was determined to not give Steve peace for as long as he didn't get any. Maybe. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he knew that was what he was doing. Intentionally or not, he wasn't sure.

[questionableratatouille00]

𝘐 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘛𝘰 𝘚𝘢𝘺 (𝘖𝘳 𝘋𝘰.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You’d never understood why Bucky never seemed interested in physical intimacy. When you find out, you realize it goes deeper than you ever thought.

Note: For my ‘Don’t Touch Me’ square on my @marvel-smash-bingo card!

Warnings: rape/non-con, sexual abuse, nightmares, ptsd, Hydra Themes, implied Hydra Trash Party, insecure!reader(?), crying, angst.

[Series Masterlist]

Your sex life was not bad in these last few months you’ve been dating Bucky. That wasn’t to say it was particularly good, either.

You hadn’t had sex with him at all. You hadn’t even got past a little bit of making out. And there was nothing wrong with that, either. Maybe he was just shy. And he was a real quiet guy when he was around anybody but you, so you knew that that was a possibility.

He was also born in 1917, so there could be just more of an awkwardness around the topic for him. You obviously had no idea what Sex Ed was like in the 1930s, but you knew that it definitely wasn’t great.

Maybe he just wasn’t interested in sex at all. And that was perfectly fine, too. He could be asexual. Or gray-asexual. Or demisexual. And you were by no means a homophobe. If he wasn’t into it, he wasn’t into it and that was that. You would certainly not be upset or—God forbid—angry over something like that.

But the thing that plagued your mind after he ran off somewhere after kissing you for a little too long was the why. He’d never said a word about sexual attraction—you’d never had that conversation before. You didn’t really know how to bring it up.

Part of you wondered if you were the problem. Was he just not attracted to you? Was there just one tiny detail on you that completely made him not want you in that way? Fuck, did you smell bad?

You pushed the thought away. But you did know that you needed to have this discussion with him. Mainly in case that last reason was it.

As if right on cue, he walked into the kitchen of your apartment.

“Hey, doll.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around you and swaying you from side to side.

“Howdy howdy. I didn’t hear you come in.” You grinned. “You’ll give me a heart attack one day.”

“Sorry,” he replied sheepishly.

The rest of the night went on as usual. At least, until halfway through the night—perhaps early morning—when you were awoken by the sound of muttering.

Now, to be very honest, you thought about muttering ‘shut up’ back, before you remembered that you were a real person and not a dinosaur like you’d been dreaming about.

You sat up, looking over at your boyfriend. Another bad dream.

You kneeled above him, opening your mouth to say something to wake him up. And once again, as if on cue, he woke up. He sat up quickly, bonking you in the head with his own skull.

“Fuck—“ You hissed as your eyes watered slightly. “Bucky, you’re okay, you’re okay, it was a dream, it’s over.” You attempted to reassure him as you reached out.

“Don’t touch me,” he pleaded. “Don’t touch me. Please.” The way he said it made your stomach flip.

“I’m not.” You promised. “I won’t. I won’t. You’re okay, you’re safe. It’s me. Jus’ me and you.”

He seemed to relax at that as he laid back down. And then—very surprisingly—fell right back asleep.

Normally his nightmares were more of a major thing, so this was certainly a surprise. You frowned, before you yourself eventually fell back asleep.

The next morning, you woke up alone, with the faint smell of breakfast coming in through the room. You walked out of your bedroom and to the kitchen, greeting your boyfriend.

“Mornin’,” you hummed.

“Good morning, doll. Did you sleep good?” He asked innocently, as if he didn’t remember the night’s…revelations.

“Yeah.” You murmured back. And then you decided to finally grow some balls and ask.

“Bucky? Can I talk to you about something serious?”

“Sure.” His brows furrowed slightly. “Always, hon. What’s goin’ on?”

“Is there a reason you don’t want to have sex with me?”

He practically turned to stone.

“What?” He croaked out.

“There’s nothing wrong about it! I’m just—it’s stupid. I’m sorry, I’m being an asshole. Never mind—“ You wanted to simultaneously beat the absolute shit out of yourself and bury yourself.

“No, you’re not.” He cut you off. “I—should’ve told you earlier. About this. It’s—it’s not you, I promise. I..I want to have..sex with you and all of that stuff. I do, really. It’s just—there’s..some stuff.”

Your brows furrowed as you took on a concerned and empathetic expression. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s—it’s okay. I do. It’s important to me that I tell you.” He explained. “But—it gets kinda heavy. Are you okay with..hearing all of that?”

You nodded. “Yes, babe. I am.”

“When I was—when I was the Winter Soldier, HYDRA would torture me. You know that. They’d…’punish’ and ‘train’ me in ways that..fucked me up. Clearly. One of those ways was through sex.” He admitted, fiddling with his hands.

Your mouth went dry. You didn’t really know what to say. Or to do, even. Did you comfort him? Say anything at all?

“I know you would never do that to me. I promise—I’m positive and comfortable in the fact that you wouldn’t ever do anything to me without my permission.” He assured you, making eye contact. “You’ve made it perfectly clear that I can say ‘no’ and can make my own decisions without any form of punishment.”

You nodded slowly.

“But it’s just—it’s hard, y’know? Like, how I get all..jumpy and ‘PTSD-y’ on the Fourth of July because of the fireworks. It’s like that, but with..sex, and being naked and stuff like that. It doesn’t have anything to do with the Fourth of July, just like it doesn’t have anything to do with you. It’s just..a thing that happens in those circumstances.” He explained. “I don’t—I’m sorry. I don’t want to be like this, I promise.”

You could see his nose was getting red and his eyes were beginning to water.

“I don’t want to be broken.” He blinked away some tears, wiping the ones that escaped his eyes with the side of his hand.

“Baby, no. Oh, baby. No, you’re not broken. Honey, you’re not. I promise.” You comforted. You opened your arms for a hug and he wrapped his arms around you.

When he was ready, he continued. “It was mostly men. There weren’t any women in HYDRA up until like..2010. But sometimes they’d sell me—and I mean literally sell me—off to certain powerful women for a variety of purposes. And I didn’t have a choice.” He murmured.

“I know, baby. It wasn’t your fault. None of that was ever your fault.” You said softly.

He nodded slowly. “I do..want that. I want to do that with you, it’s just—it’s hard.”

“I know. Thank you for telling me. And we can take it slow. And if you realize you’re not into it at all—no shame. No judgement. Not from me.” You promised.

He nodded. “Dr. Raynor—when she was my therapist she..she uh, pushed on the subject.” He confessed. Your brows furrowed.

“She what?”

“I was mad about it then. And I still think she could’ve gone about it in better ways, but she gave me something useful, so..at least there’s that.” He hummed. “She suggested showering and taking baths together. For..non-sexual intimacy.”

“You wanna try that?” You met his eyes, the beautiful blue eyes that captivated you.

He nodded slowly. “If you're comfortable with it, yeah.”

“Okay. We can try that, babe.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I love you.” He murmured. You’d heard him say it before, you’d worked your way up to it, but neither one of you really wanted to hold back that feeling from each other.

“I love you too. No matter what.” You swore.

A/n: two Oneshots on the same day? Shocking, I know. Really wanted to bring hydra trash party and reader insert fics together. This was low key inspired by me and an ex (we’re on good terms dw), and it feels very important to me.

Please reblog if you enjoyed!

Sequel here!

dividers by @saradika-graphics

[oliveroctavius]

I got this ask on main but thought I'd pick it up here, my comics history/fashion ramble blog. I'd been wondering this exact same thing recently, and Google initially wasn't much help—Rocketeer replica jackets describe themselves only as "Rocketeer jackets" and the one Lobster Johnson cosplay thread just suggested ordering one of those.

The most curious part is the double seam and horizonal row of buttons that mark out the entire front as possibly being an unbuttonable "bib", like a plastron front. (Please don't ask how late in the game I worked out that "plastron" is the right word for that.)

The closest genuine Golden Age example of a plastron jacket I found was the military tunic style uniform of Blackhawk, created in 1941.

(Pics from the '52 movie serial (right) really show how awkward it is to combine open lapels + plastron. On a double breasted coat, that chest panel IS the bottom lapel, folded shut.)

Here's the thing: This outfit mirrors that of the Nazi ace pilot he fights in the origin issue, von Tepp (middle). And compare further to the far right: real life WWI flying ace Manfred von Richthofen, AKA the Red Baron, in imperial German Uhlan (lance cavalry) uniform.

"The Germans had designed such great costumes, we decided to use them ourselves," co-creator Cuidera is quoted as saying in Steranko's History of Comics, which (more dubiously, in my opinion) compares the look to the Gestapo or SS. Breeches or jodhpurs weren't strictly a Nazi thing at the time, but they do add to the overall effect.

Compare two other military tunic themed costumes from 1940, on Captain Marvel and Bucky Barnes. These are asymmetrically buttoned, and switch to a more classic circus strongman look below the waist.

But somewhere around 1975, with the Invaders book, Bucky gets a buttoned bib! There's something infectious about it—the symmetry, maybe. (Even re: the characters we started with; Mignola didn't draw Lobster Johnson with buttons down the right side, but every artist after does. And Spider-Noir wore a sweater under his coat until Shattered Dimensions introduced the double-breasted vest.)

If it didn't reach his belt, Barnes' button-on front + shirt collar combo would resemble a bib-front western shirt, like the one that became the Rawhide Kid's signature look in '56. (Or Texas Twister's in '76.)

This shirt entered the old-West-obsessed public imagination in the 1940s/50s largely because John Wayne wore it in several cowboy movies. In reality it was rare among cowboys, more common with firefighters and civil war era militia.

Military tunics, Western shirts, alright, but does anything match the style and material and era, or are these jackets a total anachronism? I tried looking into 1930s leather flight jackets and was surprised when the closest-looking results were marked as Luftwaffe.

It took me a bit to work out why: USAF and RAF issued standard flight jackets with a center closure. The Luftwaffe instead let their pilots buy non-standardized ones. The 'weird' double-breasted black German flight jackets were in fact fairly normal (but repurposed) motorcycle racing jackets.

Far left is an English biker's jacket that dates back to the 1920s. Even without the bib, this may be as close as you'll get to an authentic Rocketeer. The jodhpurs were pretty common to complete the look. (What was an early motorcycle anyways, if not a weird metal horse?) The first biker jacket with the now iconic off-center diagonal zip was designed in America in 1928 and yet as far as I can tell, not a single actual pre-war pulp hero wore one.

The greatest weakness of this post is that I haven't been able to find any of these artists' notes on how, exactly, they arrived at similar versions of this iconic Pulp Front Panel Jacket. I'm sure I've missed some things. But as far as I can tell, this jacket is an odd bit of convergent stylistic evolution from the above influences that's picked up enough momentum to now be self-perpetuating.

The problem with pulp heroes is that for the most part, they just wore clothes. The appeal of this jacket is actually very similar to what the 1940s thought the appeal of the bib-front shirt in westerns was: It's alien enough to feel "old". It looks like something invented before zippers or synthetic fabrics. It looks formal and militant but also renegade, rebellious. It also looks a little mad-sciencey*. It's a costume, but you can nearly fool yourself into thinking the past was weird enough that you could find something this cool on the rack.

If I wanted to end on some grand point, I could try to argue that there's a thematic throughline between fascist fashion, John Wayne movies, and throwback pulp. A manufactured aesthetic valorizing the violence of a fictional golden age... but I think the noir stylings of the post-Rocketeer comics in this lineup mean that, at least on some level, they know the "good guys" didn't dress like this.

*If I had another couple weeks of time to burn, I'd try to trace the visual history of the Howie coat in popular culture and investigate its possible connections to this. Alas, I do actually have a life.

[elkleggs]

You are the most amazing artist ever, and I’m so grateful you’re taking prompts ❤️ In the spirit of the season - I’d love to see Bucky taking care of prickly, miserable pre-serum Steve when he’s sick. Heaping blankets on him or giving him a torturous sweaty rim job cause “germs come out with the spunk, Stevie, you know that” or just making him soup and cuddling on him or checking his temperature with his lips. Smutty or fluffy, whatever strikes your fancy.

[sjsmith56]

Letting Go

Summary: Bucky is critically injured, trapped in a building destroyed by a bomb. He orders his team to leave him behind but they refuse and Peter calls for help. It comes from several sources.

Length: 5.4 K

Characters: Bucky Barnes, Peter Parker, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne, Wanda Maximoff, with cameos by other Avengers, named OFC (seen in flashbacks).

Warnings: Bucky injured, feeling unworthy, accepting death, good and bad memories, medical emergency.

Author notes: Believe it or not I dreamed the first part of this and wrote down a summary as soon as I woke up so I wouldn’t forget it. This one shot imagines a post-FATWS Avengers that brings in several of the newer characters as well as some older ones. Thunderbolts* and Captain America: Brave New World have not happened.

⏳ ⌛️

If he had to do it all over again, Bucky would have made the same decision. Leading a mission with the newest Avengers under his supervision, meant that he felt responsible for their safety. It was his choice to enter the building first, assessing the risk before they came in with him. Just as it was his choice to tell them to leave him behind after the bomb went off, an event that sent tons of debris raining down on him. Now, as he laid injured in the dark, with his metal arm twisted and lodged behind him and both his legs broken he knew he wasn't getting out alive. Those who had worked with him before, specifically Peter and Yelena, begged him not to make them leave but he made it clear.

"There is nothing you can do for me," he said, with what he hoped was finality. "It's too risky for even a sorcerer and with Dr. Strange off somewhere in the multiverse I don't think he can activate the time stone and reverse this."

He stopped for a moment to cough, feeling the metallic taste of blood in his mouth, likely from bleeding internally.

"Bucky?" asked Peter over the comms. "What about Cara?"

Cara ... his girlfriend of 8 months that he planned to propose to. This would devastate her, but she knew the risks, being a SHIELD employee herself.

"Tell her I love her and that I'm sorry," he replied, then he refused to answer his comms after that.

Outside the team sat, despondent. Shaun, Joaquin, Kate, Yelena, and Peter looked at each other, feeling sick inside. Then Peter strode into the quinjet and asked Friday to patch him through to the Avengers compound.

"Sam? We need help." He filled him in on what happened and what Bucky ordered them to do, explaining none of them wanted to leave. "We don't leave a team member behind. I don't care if he made it an order. It's not right."

As Sam listened to Peter, he got Carol Danvers' attention. After listening to the gist of the conversation between him and Peter, she asked Friday to alert the remaining Avengers to suit up. She also asked Friday to contact Wong, thinking they were going to need some magic to rescue Bucky.

"Peter, stay there," he said. "We're on our way and you're right, no matter what, we don't leave a team member behind."

⏳ ⌛️

It's strange where your mind takes you when it's the only thing still working. Practically immobilized in the dark, close confines of what Bucky accepted was his tomb, he thought back over his life. The first twenty years went by fast, not surprising considering it was so long ago and he wasn't even sure he had regained all those memories back. He thought of his mother's hands. Not an unusual thing because they were always busy. Housewives in the 1920s and 1930s were always on the go and his mother was no different; washing clothes by hand, ironing everything, including the sheets, cooking, baking, darning, soothing a fevered brow when he was sick, tying his necktie the first time he wore one. He sighed at how much he missed her, wished he had been able to see her just once before .... If he had just been man enough to tell her he loved her before he left for England, the last time he saw her, or Dad, or Rebecca when she was still young. At least he saw his sister again before she died. That meant something.

Then he thought of Cara, a bright moment in his life when he met her, although he didn't think so at the time. He had returned from a mission and forgot about the comms pieces that were still in the front chest pocket of his tactical suit, given to the staff responsible for cleaning them, and repairing any damage done to them. Taking his time in the locker room by having a long, hot shower, then getting dressed at his own pace, he was surprised to see a strange woman waiting for him outside the door.

"Sergeant Barnes?" she asked, looking him in the eye, even though she was a good six inches shorter than him. "I'm Comm Tech Laskey. You were supposed to return your comms pieces on your return."

"I thought I did," he answered.

"No, Sergeant." She checked the small tablet in her hand. "You returned your weapons to the armoury, and your tactical suit to Uniform Maintenance for cleaning and repair but the person taking in communications equipment didn't check them off and there is no sign of them. Until they are returned, you're financially responsible."

"You're kidding, right?" She stared at him. "I guess I left them in my tactical suit. Why don't you go there?"

"Not my responsibility."

"Listen, Laskey, is it? I'm tired and hungry and really need a beer. Can't you just go check for me this one time and see if they're in my uniform? I promise I'll make it up to you and that it will never happen again."

"This one time?" She looked at her tablet again. "You used that excuse four times on my predecessor. She left me notes on not taking you at your word. I don't want to know how you made it up to her, but I'm not her and think that you asking me to do your job is taking advantage of your position. Now, I can either declare them missing and have you invoiced, or you can go right now to find them and bring them to me in Communications. Those are your options, Sergeant. I'll give you 10 minutes."

She turned around and walked away, not looking back even once. He watched her, wondering why the previous tech left. He had made it up to Marin, taking her for drinks at least once. Laskey had to be wrong that he didn't turn in his comms equipment four times. It wasn't that many times, was it? With a sigh, he headed towards Uniform Maintenance, explained his problem, and was given his suit to examine. The earpieces were still in his front chest pocket.

"Good thing you came now, Sarge," said the cleaner. "Was just going to process your suit. It would have wrecked those. Someone told me those are worth 5 grand a pair."

He looked at the two small earpieces in his hand, not believing they cost that much. Returning to the communications department, he entered, looking for Laskey but he didn't see her. Seeing a guy sitting in front of several computer monitors in a secure room he knocked on the window. The guy flipped a switch to speak with him.

"Yes, Sergeant, what can I do for you?"

"I'm here to return my comms pieces to Comm Tech Laskey," he said, holding up the two comms pieces.

"She's gone for the evening," said the guy, Martino. "She waited for you then said your 10 minutes was up. Sorry, you'll have to give them to her tomorrow. I'm not authorized to unlock the door so I can't receive them."

A rumble above him interrupted his train of thought and he strained to see what was happening in the darkness. Then a large piece of debris shifted, landing on his right arm. He could hear the snap as the pain of his arm being broken shot up from his forearm, making him scream in agony. Fuck, he was completely trapped now, every part of him broken or pinned in place.

"Bucky?" Peter's voice was in his comms piece. "Was that you?"

"I ordered you to go," he gritted out between clenched teeth. "Why are you still here?"

"We're not leaving you behind," said Yelena. "Help is coming."

"What did you do?"

"We called for help and it's coming," replied Peter. "Now, what's your status?"

"Damn it," muttered Bucky. "I gave you an order."

"Yeah, and I ignored it," answered the younger man. "You can discipline me later. Now, what's your status, Bucky?"

Angrily, he breathed several times then calmed himself. "Both legs broken, my metal arm is pinned behind my back, and I can't move it, and that scream was my right arm being broken by a piece of debris landing on it. I can taste blood coming up into my throat, so I likely have internal bleeding. The building is unstable, Peter. They won't be able to do anything."

"You let them figure that out," said the younger man. "Don't give up yet, Bucky. Please."

He closed his eyes, unnecessary in the dark but it was the only thing he could still do in the circumstances. He felt as helpless as he did when he came to after falling from the train. Everything was broken then, except for his left arm, which was gone. It was true he survived that, and the hypothermia that should have killed him, if he didn't already have the serum flowing through his veins. But something told him that this time the serum wouldn't be enough to keep him alive.

The sad thing was that he was okay with it. He really was. He was older than he had a right to be, had done terrible things that had sent other men to death row for less. His defence of involuntary mind control and torture was accepted for his pardon, but that was little comfort to the families of those he killed. Even though he made his amends a big part of him always felt that he got away with murder. That was the same part of him that was telling him to let go, to accept that this time, he had to pay the piper. Why couldn't Peter just obey orders?

You know why.

Great, now he was hearing a voice in his head, and it wasn't coming from the comms.

"Why?" he whispered, not wanting the others to hear him.

He had to watch Tony Stark die, then his Aunt May. Don't you think if he left you behind to die that it would hurt him as much as those deaths did?

"I don't mean that much to him. I barely talk to him."

You mean more to him than you know, Bucky, and he means more to you than you realize.

He had nothing to say to that because he couldn't see it. Peter was still a kid, living in Queens, trying to get the marks to be accepted into engineering at college, while still patrolling the streets at night and being an Avenger.

You don't see it, do you?

"See what?" asked Bucky, out loud.

"What did you say, Bucky? Are you okay?"

"Sorry, just thinking out loud," he replied to Peter. "Has your help arrived yet?"

"No, but they'll be here in a couple of minutes. They're just getting some things sorted out first."

Bucky closed his eyes again and tried to calm his mind.

You're a survivor, Bucky. Peter looks up to you, because you went through hell, and you survived it. You're a good leader who treats everyone with respect like the sergeant you are. You're fair, firm, and you make sure that everyone knows their job before you take them on a mission. If anyone gets hurt, you're the first one there, the first one to assure them that they'll be okay. He admires you for that. So do the others.

A scoff erupted from Bucky's lips, causing him to cough and he tasted blood again. Personally, he didn't want to believe what that inner voice was telling him. He barely said anything to the younger ones. They were always on their phones, or playing video games; silly pastimes in his mind. Still, Peter helped him set up his smartphone without making him feel stupid or out of touch. It still impressed him that the kid was stronger than him, even though he was a lot shorter and lighter than Bucky.

He often reminds you of Steve, doesn't he? Except without the anger. Orphan, living on his own on a shoestring budget, until you and Sam convinced him to live at the tower. He helps people who have been pushed around, and you admire his mind, because it reminds you of you, when you were younger and still had hopes of college.

Well, maybe there was some truth in all of that but as far as Bucky was concerned, it wasn't enough to warrant Peter disobeying a direct order and bringing in help. He probably called Sam, first. He wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

"Bucky? How you doing, man?"

Well, shit, speak of the devil.

"Sam. I assume Peter gave you a status report, so I won't repeat myself. I don't think I'm getting out of this one."

"You let us assess the situation before we make that decision. I've got Carol, Thor, Wong, Hope, and Scott here. Bruce, Dr. Cho, and a couple of paramedics are on standby to treat your injuries. We've set up a little trauma centre just to stabilize you before we transport you to the tower."

"The building is really unstable, Sam. Whatever you do can make it worse for me."

"Buck, we know." Sam's voice was more serious. "We've got a couple of structural engineers here to determine the best way to get that debris pile off of you. Hope and Scott are going to fly in and try to get into your space to make a scan of your situation. Then we'll make a plan of action. We're not leaving you behind, you hear?"

Despite his stoic acceptance of his fate, Bucky couldn't help the little sob that erupted from his throat. It took a lot to get his single word answer out.

"Okay."

He didn't know how long it was before he was aware he wasn't alone. A small light approached him in the darkness, revealing Hope carrying Scott. She had a light on one arm with a small scanner on the other, while Scott carried the same sort of scanner. She hovered over Bucky's face and flipped her face shield up, making her face visible to him.

"Hey, Buck," she said. "Scott is going to stand on your chest. If it hurts, you let us know. While he scans this pocket, I'm going to your sides and underneath to scan there. Just relax. Sorry, I know you can't really do that."

He nodded his head slightly, but didn't say anything. As she left, Scott activated the light on his arm.

"I'm not too heavy for you, am I?" he asked as he began to laser scan the space Bucky was trapped in.

"No, it's not too heavy," replied Bucky. "I'm sorry to bring you in here. I don't think much can be done for me."

"Well, it's easy to feel that way when you're the one who's trapped." Scott looked back at him. "Understandably so but it always amazes me that even in the most backward areas, when there's a landslide or an earthquake and people get trapped that they are still able to rescue people with just their bare hands. We have a full team out there and a couple of cranes setting up to lift debris off from above you. It's kind of like a 3D jigsaw puzzle or more likely a house of cards that we're taking apart, without destabilizing it. It's challenging but with the right moves and respect for the task, it can be done. I have faith in us, Bucky. You just have to trust us to do our jobs. Your only job is to hang on."

"I don't know how much longer I can do that." Scott turned so he could see Bucky's face. "I'm bleeding internally. If it's bad enough I don't know if the serum can heal it before I bleed out."

"Do your best."

There was no answer from the former assassin for a while as Scott continued scanning. He kept checking on Bucky's face, making sure he was still conscious. Turning towards Bucky's face after a few moments, Scott noticed that he had relaxed completely, and his eyes were closed. Putting the scanner down he moved closer and tapped Bucky's cheek.

"Hey, Buck, you still with me?"

A small groan followed by his eyes trying to open was his answer. He was slipping away.

"Sam! He's losing consciousness. What do I do?"

He could hear Bruce and Helen discussing what could be done to bring him back. They all involved Hope flying back, getting a stimulant in an injector, then bringing it back and jamming it into Bucky's neck but it might not be in time and the effect wouldn't be enough if they didn't enlarge the injector. Then Scott thought that perhaps a pain stimulus would work.

"Hope! Get up here, I need you," called Scott. She appeared from the side moments later. "Sting him. He's losing consciousness and I figured a pain stimulus would bring him back. I don't have anything on me, but you do with your stingers. It won't hurt him, but he should feel it."

"Do it," said Bruce, who had been listening in. "It's the only thing we've got to offer and it's better than nothing."

Aiming at Bucky's cheek, Hope fired on him. The response was minimal, so she did it again and this time Bucky opened his eyes.

"That hurt," he mumbled. "What did you do?"

"Sorry, Buck," she answered. "You were passing out and we need to keep you conscious. I stung you."

"Cut it out." Then he grinned lightly. "It's okay. You did what you had to."

She returned to scanning underneath while Scott continued his scan. He looked at Bucky frequently, not wanting to miss the signs of him passing out again. Then he cleared his throat.

"Buck?" He could feel the super soldier's eyes on him. "I've heard you wanted to get into engineering when you were young. You know I'm an electrical engineer by training. What field were you interested in?"

"Mechanical," answered Bucky. "I was always interested in how things work and worked a lot on engines. But the Depression pretty much wiped out any chance of going to college. I quit school to work on the docks. It didn't require a lot of thought, but it paid the bills."

"What about Steve? What was he into?"

"Art. He could draw anything. He spent a year in art school then ran out of money to continue." Bucky was silent for a moment. "So, you left engineering to become Ant Man?"

"Not exactly," replied Scott. "I worked for a corporation that was robbing its customers and kind of stole from them to give back to the people they were stealing from. One thing led to another, I got caught and I spent a few years in prison. Couldn't get a job when I got out, then I got involved with Hank Pym, became Ant Man and here I am."

"You did prison time." The disbelief was strong in Bucky's voice as he always thought Lang was a bit of a softy.

"Yeah, I managed. I kept my head down, didn't rat anyone out, tried to stay pleasant. It seemed to work. It's where I met Luis ... you've met Luis, haven't you?"

"The guy that can't shut up? Yeah, he's hilarious."

"Hey, he's been a good friend and has had my back whenever I've needed him. That's worth a lot in this world."

Bucky felt bad about being dismissive. By everything he had heard about Luis, he had been a good friend to Scott, helping him bring in some dangerous people.

"I guess he's kind of your Steve in that you watch out for each other." He watched as Scott continued scanning. "It's good to have someone like that in your life."

"Like Sam. I know on the surface that you two are always bugging each other, but he'd drop everything to help you and so would you." Bucky grunted. "Don't deny it. It's why you're partners."

"Co-workers."

Scott laughed. "Okay, have it your way." He finished his scan and came close so that Bucky could see him. "Right now, that co-worker is looking over the results of my scan and figuring out with the others where to start saving your life. Hope, are you done?"

"Yes, I've already transmitted the data." She was quiet for a moment. "You know, Scott, I think with a little nudge we can help Bucky free his left arm. I just need to size up slightly and raise him enough so that he can pull it free. Bucky, do you want to give it a try?"

They cleared it with Sam, who, along with the others, was looking at the scans. There was concern that they could destabilize the debris pile, but Bruce was also concerned that Bucky had already lost consciousness briefly. Scott pointed out that with both of them there, they could enlarge themselves quickly enough to push the debris aside and open up access to Bucky. It wouldn't be pretty, but it could get him out sooner.

"Remember, I did it at the compound after Thanos blew us up and we were buried underground," he said. "We won't let him get hurt any further."

"Alright," said Sam. "Do it, but be prepared for both of you to go giant sized."

Hope returned to an open spot below Bucky, while Scott remained on his chest, although he changed his footing somewhat so that if he went large, he wouldn't step on the super soldier. She counted down from three, then Bucky could feel his body lift slightly, and then a slight tug on his left arm. It moved a little, then he felt more pressure on his back as Hope pushed him further up. Suddenly, his arm was free and by his side. He flexed his hand, then the pressure beneath him eased as Hope shrank down.

"It's free," he said. "Thanks."

Then everything went black and silent.

"Guys, what's going on?" asked Bucky. "Where are you?"

"It's okay, Bucky," said a familiar female voice.

A red glow appeared near him, and he saw Wanda, sitting cross-legged in the dark with him.

"Wanda? What are you doing here? It's dangerous."

"You're not trapped, Bucky," she answered, in her soft melodious voice. "At least, the inner you isn't. Your body is and right now, Scott and Hope are trying to revive you while the others are ready to have them go giant size just to get you out of there. I just wanted a chance to talk to you face to face before they wake you up. I've been with you since you first were trapped."

"That was your voice in my head, wasn't it?" he asked. "You know how I feel about that."

"I know, and I'm sorry for invading your privacy but I hated that you seemed to have given up. The younger Avengers were so upset when you told them to leave you behind. I felt their distress. Shame on you for not thinking that you're worth it."

"You know what I was and what I did."

"I know because I did things that were just as bad or worse; things that I'm truly sorry for." She was right beside him now, red tendrils of light snaking off her body and dissipating into the dark. "You've done a lot of good since HYDRA and have more than paid back your dues. You're respected, people care about you, and someone loves you very much."

"Cara will move on," he replied. "She deserves better."

"Hmmm," she voiced. Then she brought up an image of Cara in the air. "She doesn't think so. In her eyes, you're someone who makes her feel like she's the most beautiful woman in the world. Let's continue with the memory of when you first met her. I was enjoying that until the building fell on your right arm."

The morning after he tried to return the comms pieces, Bucky got up early and waited outside the office, until the first staff member came in, Cara Laskey herself.

"I have the comms pieces," said Bucky. "I tried to return them last night, but you had already gone."

She unlocked the door without comment, then went to the counter and pulled out a form. Putting her hand out to Bucky, she examined the two earpieces, then wrote a note on the form before turning it towards him and handing him a pen.

"Sign here. You're accepting any penalties that might have accrued for the late return of classified equipment. I'll submit this to the supervisor, and you'll be hearing what the penalty is."

He looked at her, dumbfounded. "You're kidding, right? I just handed them to you. It wasn't my fault that it took me longer than 10 minutes to get to Uniform Maintenance, explain why I needed my suit and then go through the pockets before returning here to find you already gone. This is bullshit."

"Sergeant Barnes, may I remind you that there is a code of conduct in place governing interactions between frontline and support staff. I don't have to take this kind of verbal abuse from you."

He ran his hand over his face, breathing heavily, then he looked down at her, noticing for the first time, she had flecks of gold in her hazel irises.

"You're right, I apologize," he said. "I would just like to ask respectfully, that you verify that I was here to return the items last night, then was here first thing in the morning to return them. Considering that I made every effort to get here on time, I just object to a penalty being assessed arbitrarily. Surely, there must be some leeway, in the spirit of inter-departmental cooperation."

A small smile graced Laskey's face, then she looked down at the form, picked it up and put it through the paper shredder.

"Since you put it that way and asked so nicely, I'll make an exception this time," she said. "Just don't forget them again."

"That was smooth," said Wanda. "So how did you get from inter-departmental cooperation to wanting to ask her to marry you?"

"I wish I knew," said Bucky. "It just seemed that I saw her more around the compound. It was formal between us at first; she called me Sergeant Barnes and I called her Comm Tech Laskey. Then I stepped outside one night and she was changing her tire. It went flat during the day, and she was having a hard time getting it done in the dark as the light above where she parked had burnt out. I offered to help if she lit up the scene with her phone flashlight. We talked and found we liked some things in common. I told her to call me Bucky and she said to call her Cara." He smiled. "We began having coffee together, worked out together, and then I'd wait for her to finish work to see if she wanted to join us for drinks."

His voice trailed off as he thought about them meeting as a group for drinks. She wasn't the only support staff that came out, but she was the one he always tried to sit beside. Then one Friday night, the place they went to had dancing and one of the weapons techs asked her to dance. As he watched her dance with the guy, he couldn't stop feeling angry. Why was she dancing with him? He wasn't good enough for her. The guy bragged about his body count all the time in the locker room.

"Sam saw it, didn't he?" Wanda asked him gently. "He told you to stop wasting time and ask her to dance yourself. So, you did. What was the song again?"

"Holding Back the Years," replied Bucky. "Not a romantic song at all but that voice and the feeling behind it just got to me. I held back from opening myself up to others for so long, afraid of hurting them but with her, it was suddenly clear that I wanted her in my life. I kissed her, right on the dance floor and she kissed me back. That was eight months ago."

"So why were you so ready to leave her behind?"

He didn't answer for the longest time. "I was angry at myself for not telling her how much I love her. I've had the ring for a month working up the courage to ask her to marry me. She keeps me honest. Doesn't take my bullshit. She makes me laugh and when we're together, making love, it's like the first time every time. I learn something new about her every day. I guess, I figured if I gave her up then it wouldn't hurt so much if I didn't make it. It doesn't make sense, I know. I don't want to die, and I don't want to lose her."

"So, you do think you're good enough for her?"

"I'll spend every day of our lives together being worthy of her." He looked at the young woman who had her own HYDRA story. "Can you send me back?"

"Of course," she smiled. "I just wanted to make sure that you don't want to let go of life, that you really wanted to go back, and not just to Cara but all of them. They're all fond of you, Bucky, and even love you. It's because you're worth loving. It's why Steve risked so much to find you and make sure you were free."

"But he left."

"Yeah." Her face softened. "Sometimes, the people who love us have to make a hard decision. He chose to leave you for reasons only he really knows. You're choosing to stay because you love these people, and they love you. That's a good thing, Bucky. Love is always a good thing."

🩺

He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the tears flooding them. When he opened them, he was inside a tent, with Bruce and Helen hovering over him, while a paramedic was holding paddles in the air, and another had a mask over his mouth squeezing air into his lungs.

"Normal sinus rhythm," said someone. "He's conscious."

Bruce came closer. "Bucky?"

He nodded. "How long was I out?"

"Over a minute. Scott and Hope went giant and cleared the debris pile, while Wong levitated you out of there and directly into the tent. Your heart stopped and we had to shock you three times. You gave us quite the scare." He nodded to someone out of Bucky's view. "We're going to transport you directly to the compound via a portal. You need surgery to repair a bleeding artery. Plus, we have to set the breaks in your legs and right arm."

They transferred him to a gurney, strapping him on, and putting his IV bag on a stand. An oxygen mask was placed over his mouth, then the two paramedics began wheeling him towards the portal, while Bruce and Helen followed. The other Avengers were lined up before the portal. He heard murmurs of good luck from them, plus received numerous smiles. Putting his hand up when it got to Peter, he grasped the younger man's hand.

"Thanks," he said softly. "You're still in trouble but we'll talk later about it."

Peter smiled. "Sure, Bucky."

With another wave to Scott and Hope, Bucky nodded, and the gurney went through the portal, coming out to the medical centre surgical suite. They cut his gear off and he had the thought that the uniform tech wouldn't be happy with him. It made him smile. Then he thought of another thing.

"Make sure Cara gets my comms earpieces," he said out loud. "Don't want to get in trouble with the woman I love."

There were chuckles at that, and he relaxed. As soon as he woke up from this surgery, he was going to tell Cara he loved her and wanted to marry her. It was then he remembered something Wanda said. How did she know he wanted to ask Cara to marry him? No one knew, not even Sam.  It really didn't matter because Wanda was right. Love was a good thing. It was everything.

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[xoxobuckybarnes]

December 2023 Stucky Fics

Completed

Treading Water (Rated: M, Words: 274K) by sparkagrace / @sparkagrace

Summary: Olympic swimmer Bucky Barnes always believed that when the time came to retire, he would walk away with his medals and world records firmly in the history books and never look back. He never thought the water would leave him first. ***Part of the series Lane Lines: Lane Lines (Rated: M, Words: 132K), Lumière (Rated: M, Words: 5K), & New Traditions (Rated: M, Words: 6K)***

Without You Here, We Are A Worse Version of Who We've Been (Rated: T, Words: 10K) by endlesstwanted / @endlesstwanted & art by Estelior / @estelior

Summary: Bucky has to plan how to do his physical therapy when, by chance, he finds therapist and gym owner Steve’s videos on YouTube. Located two blocks away and encouraged by his roommate, Bucky goes and meets Steve, gets the help he didn’t know he needed, and a couple of things more in the way.

you can't touch this (Rated: E, Words: 7K) by Kalee60 / @kalee60

Summary: Bucky had always been tactile, always shown his affection through touch and a closeness that generally drove Steve crazy. And it would have been totally fine - if Steve wasn’t head over heels in love with him. But he was - and Steve wasn’t sure what to do about it. Or the five times over the years Bucky touched Steve's ass and the one time Steve touched Bucky's.

For Steve (Rated: E, Words: 6K) by stuckytoyoulikeglue (malfoys_minx)

Summary: When Steve is awoken in the early hours of Christmas morning by his drunk roommate trying to literally climb into his stocking, he doesn't know what to think. After all, just because Bucky happens to be the only thing he's ever really wanted for Christmas, doesn't mean that this year his wish is finally going to come true, no matter what his friend's intoxicated ramblings might suggest...

Bucky Barnes and the Christmas Spirit (Rated: T, Words: 3K) by this_wayward_life

Summary: Bucky's never celebrated Christmas. Steve sets out to change that.

'tis the damn season by (Rated: M, Words: 10K) by captainswit

Summary: Steve Rogers is a hotshot, big-deal Hollywood actor. He’s had four indie movies released in the past couple of years, has won awards (even if they have all been People’s Choice awards, the Oscars is next!), and has a blockbuster action movie coming to theaters in a few weeks. He's home for the holidays and he's missed his hometown of Lehigh, and one inhabitant of Lehigh in particular, his former best friend and old flame, Bucky Barnes. 'Tis the season for baked goods, holiday parties, and awkward encounters.

Home is the Human Heart (Rated: T, Words: 3K) by aimmyarrowshigh

Summary: The number of people who will be crowded into the Common Room makes Bucky’s skin feel too tight. “I don’t think I want to go.” “Well, that’s okay, Buck.” Steve’s eyebrows draw in the middle like it’s not actually. “I don’t want you to feel unsafe.” He pauses. “Do you mind if I still go?” “Why would you go?” Bucky does mind, a little. He likes being alone with Steve better than being alone without him. “You aren’t Jewish.” -- Or, Bucky and Steve and two Hanukkahs: one in 1930 and one in 2015.

All I Want For Christmas Has Been You for More Than Seventy Years (Rated: E, Words: 9K) by Kellyscams / @thebestpersonherelovesbucky

Summary: It's Bucky's first Christmas back with Steve in 70 years, just a year since he's come to live with him and the Avengers. Steve's taking him away from the city for the occasion. Bucky assumes it's for his own safety; just in case the hustle and bustle of the New York Christmas Season triggers some of the Winter Soldier tendencies he's been fighting and learning to overcome. Bucky doesn't mean to take this impromptu trip personally. Doesn't want to be upset. But he's recently recalled and redeveloped his feelings for Steve. Feelings he never shared with him. Feelings he has no idea if Steve shares, so being alone with his super soldier buddy might not be something he's ready for. Only Steve's reasons for taking Bucky away might not be so black and white--or red and green as it may be. Christmas songs, snowball fights, ugly Christmas sweaters, confessions, and Bucky wrapped up in Christmas lights.

The Last Boyfriend (series) by Brenda / @brendaonao3

All Mixed Up (Rated: G, Words: 3K) Summary: Oh God, she was probably someone's wife or mother or something and he'd just made things ten times more awkward and – "Oh, I didn't mean – I mean, I didn't mean it like that, I just thought –" Then a large, masculine, warm hand slid into his, and a low, very male voice said: "Nat, you love new friends, don't be rude." "James, really?" "Yes, really." The hand in Steve's gently tugged. "C'mon, I'll buy you a coffee; you can be friends with me instead." Holiday Themed Meet Cute, based on this Tumblr prompt The Last Boyfriend (Rated: T, Words: 6K) Summary: "Oh wow, you, um..." Steve's eyes, so large and beautiful and the same dark-blue of the twilight sky, widened behind the black frames of his glasses as he stopped in front of their small group. "You're here." Bucky nodded in lieu of speaking. He didn't think he could make a sound if his life depended on it. And if he could, he was sure it would be some babbling combination of God you're gorgeous and I want to kiss you until your glasses fog up. Which probably wouldn't help his cause of trying to behave like an actual human being and not a total disaster. Or: Bucky and Steve have the fluffiest and most adorkable first date ever. Forever's A Good Place to Start (Rated: T, Words: 2K) Summary: Exactly one year after Bucky and Steve's first meeting at Gregory's Coffee, Bucky keeps his promise. AKA, the fluffy proposal fic that everyone voted for on Tumblr. :D

i've got a lot to pine about (Rated: M, Words: 6K) by cable-knit-sweater (cable_knit_sweater) / @cable-knit-sweater

Summary: Bucky loves Christmas, always has. Steve, however, his friend and fellow medical resident, struggles a little more during the holidays, especially now he doesn't have any family left. Bucky does his best to try to cheer him up a little and make sure that Steve will feel some of the holiday cheer. Thing is though, they're not just friends or colleagues. They've been hooking up for months, almost a year, and Bucky isn't sure how he's going to keep his feelings to himself for much longer. Because to him, this thing they have stopped being something casual a long time ago.

Found My Place in Time (Rated: E, Words: 12K) by humapuma / @humapuma & art by Cap_D

Summary: “Buck,” he heard Steve say, “wake up. We’re here.” Bucky opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension out of his back. When Steve’s words sunk in, though, he turned and leaned forward, staring past Steve’s chest to look out the window. Beyond the wing of the plane, he found a beautiful coastline with white sand, blue waters, and palm trees, as well as rows of bungalows on the water. “Wow,” he murmured. “We’re staying in one of those, right?” - In which Steve invites Bucky on a trip to Fiji and they discover something a lot more than beautiful vistas and friendly locals.

Podfics

it's been a long, long time (Rated: NR) by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)

Summary: The Asset returns to the man's apartment three days after pulling him from the river.

A Place Called Home (Rated: T) by roseszain

Summary: New Years Eve. Suits. Party at Stark's place. Honesty happens.

WIP

Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions) (Rated: E, Current Words: 82K) by dorian_burberrycanary / @burberrycanary

Summary: The worst of times, like the best, are always passing away. How’s that for some consolation on the road? A post-The Falcon and The Winter Soldier Stucky fix-it as part of the all-American road trip, detours included. ***Part of the series A Man Takes His Sadness Down to the River (The Consolation of Philosophy): The Same River, Twice (The Man Is Still Left with His Hands) (Rated: G, words: 4K), Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion) (Rated: G, Words: 14K), &  Not Language by a Map (The Grammar of Sensation) (Rated: E, Words: 20K)***

a league of our own(Rated: E, Current Words: 36K) by burning_brighter / @burning-brighter

Summary: Steve’s sixteen-year-old son’s one and only dream is to play in the Major League. He thinks he has a shot when the team get a new coach, retired MLB legend and Steve’s high school crush, Bucky Barnes. Steve hasn’t thought of the man in many years, but seeing him brings back many memories that push Steve to reach out to an old friend and maybe make new ones on the way. What happens when Steve gets to know Bucky properly? What happens when they open up about their darkest secrets and deepest fears? There’s really only one thing that can happen.

Every Me and Every You (Rated: M, Current Words: 5K) by deadto27 / @deadto27

Summary: Bucky Barnes is doing his best. He's getting by after the blip, after Sam became Captain America, after Steve...well, it's best he doesn't think about that. The point is, his life is different now, and he's trying his best. He just wishes the hollow feeling in his chest would go away. ----- Bucky gets blinded by a bright light as the tear seems to implode in on itself and there’s an odd little jolt as the pulling stops, and then Bucky’s blinking, trying to get his vision right again as he loosens his grip on America. “You okay?” he checks, still squinting. He’s probably not blind, he thinks. It just feels like it right now. “I’m okay,” America tells him and he sees her nod shakily as his vision starts to clear, and he carefully lets go of her, seeing that she can support herself, hands pressing onto the floor next to her. “Uh…I don’t think I am,” says another voice, and Bucky turns his head so fast he might give himself whiplash. Because he knows that voice. He knows that voice better than any other voice on the planet and he’s missed that voice, so, so much.

hey now, you’re an all star (get your game on, go play) (Rated: E, Current Words: 75K) by buckyismybicycle / @buckyismybicycle

Summary: Boston Bruins trade notorious party animal/human disaster Bucky Barnes to the Dallas Stars, and captain Steve Rogers is not impressed when Fury puts him on babysitting duties. But, as he gets to know Bucky - really gets to know Bucky - he wonders if maybe the media has got it all wrong - very, very wrong. PS - you do not need to know hockey for this, I promise.

Rereads

it always leads to you in my hometown (Rated: E, Words: 37K) by pineappleyogurt (musicforlife101)

Summary: Bucky doesn't want to talk about life in LA. Or the icy numbness in his chest. Or how shattered he is without Steve. Or how he doesn't know who he is anymore. Or the supposed choices he has to come home. But when Steve calls him babe out of habit, he decides to let him. At least for the weekend. It's a lesson in choices and consequences and finally figuring out what's important. -- You can't unmake a choice. Decisions in life aren't like making a bed or choosing a path. You made it, it's done. You don't unmake it or remake it like a do over. You just make a different choice and live with those consequences. Each day is a choice. And the consequences, good or bad, of staying here aren't the same as the consequences of coming back. Just like the consequences of leaving aren't the same as the consequences of staying gone.

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

The funny thing about the Boys is that they tried to be all original with their "realistic" takes and plot twists when it was always the most obvious shit. Pastor of a mega youth group gets introduced. Let me guess: Secretly gay and into minors. The Captain America/Bucky Barns stand in has all the worst cartoonishly-stereotypical 1940s sexist and racist traits. A character comes in expressing anti mainstream media views and throwing out conservative YouTube culture war slogans from 2015? Plot twist! She's a literal 1930s Nazi. I'm sure this was all amazing and edgy back when Garth Ennis wrote the comic in 2006. -except it wasn't. Watchmen did superhero cynicism in the mid 80s and Warren Ellis did it with Marvel Ruins in 95 and Ultimate Marvel in 2004.. and probably everything else Warren Ellis has written before or after.

That's another problem with this kind of show. There's zero diversity of thought or opinion in Hollywood so you're just going to get the same story with the same characters no matter who makes it. And since writers are usually left wing as a rule, you're just going to get the same story made over and over again by new groups of people who think they're the first ones to say "conservatives bad hur hur".

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

This is the first piece of fanfiction I have ever written. I had this story on my mind for a while now and I just finally wanted to put it into text, even if nobody ever reads it. English is not my first language, so I hope I have not made too many mistakes. To anyone who will read this, thank you for taking the time.

Chapter 1

Brooklyn; New York 1930

It was the hottest summer I had ever experienced. The air was so thick with heat that not even the slightest breeze stirred. There I was, standing in front of our new home. Papa called it our fresh start, our chance at a better life.

It was a small apartment in a vast complex of rundown buildings. I glanced at Mama as she sighed. She looked disappointed. Was this really what we had packed up our lives in Italy for? Was this place supposed to be better?

My parents were already heading inside when I noticed two boys sitting on the stairs. One was short and skinny with blond hair, while the other, seated on the opposite side, was taller but just as slender, with dark hair that starkly contrasted against the blond. The dark-haired boy was talking animatedly while the blond one listened intently.

“Hey, what are you staring at?” the dark-haired boy called out.

“Nothing...I’m sorry,” I mumbled, barely above a whisper. The boy stood up, walked over to me, and extended his hand with a broad smile.

“I’m Bucky, and that’s my friend Steve over there. You’re new here, aren’t you?” he asked.

“Yeah, we just moved here from Italy. My name is Loretta, but you can call me Lottie,” I said quietly. I wasn’t great with new people, especially not boys who looked like they stepped out of a movie. I saw Steve approaching us hesitantly. He seemed more like me—shy and reserved.

“Welcome to our neighborhood. I hope you like it here,” he murmured.

Before I could respond, Papa’s voice rang out from inside. “Lottie, where are you? Stop standing around and help your mom!”

Without missing a beat, Bucky grabbed my suitcase and started carrying it up the stairs. “Oh, um, thank you. I could have done it,” I stammered.

He set it down with a wide grin. “But you shouldn’t have to!” For some reason, his words made me blush. I mumbled a quick thank you and hurried inside.

That summer was the beginning of the time when I fell head over heels for Bucky Barnes.

Next Chapter

[steve-rogers-new-york]

Recipe Advent Calendar - Day 2

Happy Holidays!

To celebrate the season, I am doing 12-days of seasonal recipes from the 14th to the 25th December. These are recipes published in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle newspaper during the period that Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes lived in Brooklyn in the early 20th century.

Lemon Cream Cookies

1/2 cup butter 1 cup sugar 1/2 cup sour cream 2 eggs yolks, beaten slightly 2 cups find dry Bond crumbs 1/2 teaspoon soda Grated rind of 1/2 lemon Cream butter and sugar add sour cream and egg yolks and blend. Combine crumbs, soda and lemon rind and add to first mixture. Drop from teaspoon onto buttered baking sheet. Decorate the top of each with sugar and cinnamon mixed together, silver balls or tiny stars cur from candied cherries. Bake in a hot oven, 400 degrees F., until brown—about 10 minutes.

The recipe appeared in the Friday 11 December 1936 edition of the Brooklyn Daily Eagle.

Advent Calendar Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9 | Day 10 | Day 11 | Day 12

[ Support SRNY through Patreon and Ko-Fi ] And join us on Discord for fun conversation! I also have an Etsy with up-cycled nerdy crafts

[sarahowritesostucky]

Jewish Bucky Barnes

I've often headcanoned Bucky as Jewish. And there are several bits I've always thought about putting in fic, including:

Bucky's reaction as he and the Howlies encounter survivors of death camps in Europe/liberate them

Was Bucky treated worse by Hydra after Azzanno because they knew he was Jewish? Was that why he was selected for a likely-deadly experiment in the first place?

Modern!Bucky getting his grandfather's Auschwitz tattoo in remembrance of him

What would Bucky think of the current Israel/Palestine conflict?

Bucky getting together with Ari in the 70's

Bucky celebrating his first Hannukah post-Hydra

Steve stepping into a fight to (try to) defend Bucky from a gang of antisemites in the 30's

Bucky finding a nice Jewish girl to settle down with in modern times or after wwii

Steve in the 1930s, having never heard of circumcision (b/c ya know: Catholic boy in the 30's), absolutely fascinated and flabbergasted when Bucky tells him there are other types of dicks. Then, of course, being curious young boys and all, they gotta whip 'em out and compare. And then of course their gay sexual awakening happens. The end.