#'all right nazis! what have you done with Bucky?!'

[bucknastysbabe]

Walk your talk

Rating: Explicit

Synopsis: Bucky survives and settles down back in New York. His wife discovers at SSR Bucky has been ahem- exaggerating around the lunch table. Punishment ensues. A good boy should know to keep his mouth shut. Right?

Tags: Period typical sexism, Bucky pretends to be tuff™️ but is the biggest sub in the universe, SSR gang reunited and by that I only mean Peg n Sousa are allowed, men wearing panties, chubby!subby!bucky, dom!reader, pnv!sex, orgasm denial, SO MUCH TEASING, subspace, Bucky just wants to be the best boy to ever, kinda fluffy, aftercare

A/N: This was already in the bullpen hahaha BTTOH is about 75% done. Writing full ass chapters confuddles me but it’s about GROWTH. Also I love sub chub buck

1952

Bucky worked at the Strategic Scientific Reserve. He was a top dog— the heroic best friend of the dear Captain America and famed Howling Commando. He’d been working there since he lost his arm in the war. Howard Stark had since designed him a new one with some plans he said ‘certainly were not smuggled from a Nazi bunker’. He was happily married and recovering day by day.

Bucky’s pretty little wife was perfect. She never complained, and made his lunch for him every day. His coworkers would jab about Bucky having her under his thumb— how he probably gave it to her good. He’d laugh and go along with the talk, shrugging off their questions. Peggy would hound him about defending her honor and he figured he should before it got out of hand. He didn’t really prioritize that…being on a new case and all.

To Bucky’s consternation, it got out of hand as predicted. He was at a company cocktail party on Stark’s fancy pool property. He warmly smiled at his best girl, a big hand resting on the small of her back. She nuzzled his shoulder and cooed, “C’mon big guy, when are you going to let me meet some of these men? I’ve had an earful every night.” He shook his head with a laugh, calling over Johnson and Krzeminski. The pair of men were tipsy and goofily strode over.

Bucky introduced her, “Hey boys this is the wife!She’s interested in putting a face to the two who get on my damn nerves.” He pointed at the tall blonde, “That arrogant bastard is Johnson, and the lerch there is Krzeminski.” She airily laughed, a beautiful noise to Bucky. The woman teased, “Oh hush, I’m sure you two are perfectly ordinary!”

Krzeminski guffawed before slurring, “Ah Barnes I see why you kept her hidden. You’re a gem!”

Bucky narrowed his eyes as she blushed and laughed it off.

Ray continued as he elbowed Johnson, “Yeah, Barnes has told us all about you. I wish my wife took obeying so seriously, lemme’ get her over my knee for once.” The blonde chuckled lowly, eyeing the confused lady. Bucky intervened, “Alright. Thanks boys, we’re going to get something to drink now. Maybe some water for you Ray.” He clutched the man’s shoulder in a facsimile of warmth but gripped roughly, causing Krzeminski to wince in pain.

Bucky led his other half away internally cringing at his coworkers words. He should’ve nipped this in the bud earlier. She looked up at him, a sharp brow lifting up in question. Bucky stuttered to respond but she held up a hand. She asked, “What was that all about dear? What did you tell them?”

Bucky ran a hand over his brow and replied, “Y’know how guys get— just talk.”

“Just talk about our sex life? I guess you didn’t tell them the truth.”

Her painted lips turned into a frown, sending his heart to cracking. Bucky mumbled, “They worship the ground I walk on and I just got carried away— m’sorry sweetheart.” She rolled her eyes and looked up at his sorrowful blues. Her manicured hand reached up to thumb at his reddened cheeks.

“I understand. Maybe shut any future talk down baby,” her soft gaze hardened, “I doubt they want to know what happens when you misbehave. Who really gets taken over the knee, hm?” Bucky’s mouth gaped like a fish, his full cheeks flushing further at his baby’s words. He gulped, “N-no sweetheart, m’so sorry.” Bucky’s skin crawled as shame licked up his spine. He shifted in place, looking away from his wife’s piercing stare. He was in the dog house now.

“I think we need to head home Bucky-bear. Obviously you need a punishment for behavior like this.” A strangled noise leapt out of Bucky’s throat at her words. He didn’t need to be punished— Bucky just wanted to be her good boy but was doing poorly at that. She cooed, “Poor baby. You’ll be fine. Now go say your goodbyes.”

Bucky frowned and stalked off, saying sullen goodbyes to the partygoers. He waved off Sousa and Peggy asking about his mood, scurrying to the car instead. His wife waited in the passenger side, idly checking her nails. Bucky got in the two-door, avoiding her pointed gaze. She spoke softly, “I’m really disappointed in you sweetheart. I wouldn’t even speak, much less lie about our sex life to coworkers.” The brunette’s throat bobbed with emotion.

“It was messed up, I shouldn’t do that. M’sorry.”

Her voice cut him like a blade when she responded, “Sorry isn’t cutting it tonight. When I get out of my shower at home I expect you on the bed wearing your pretty things. Bad boy.”

Bucky whimpered.

“‘M not a bad boy,” he weakly protested. His face was red from embarrassment with hot tears welling up. His metal hand creaked against the steering wheel. She patted his thigh, giving it a squeeze as she teased, “You haven’t been acting like my best boy Buck. Don’t worry, I’ll get you sorted out.” He whined lowly, his dick traitorously jumping at her mean words and soft touch.

The rest of the drive she maddeningly stroked and gripped at his thigh. Bucky felt an oncoming haze at the edges of his mind— blurring and scrambling his thoughts. His cock was full to bursting, stuffed uncomfortably in his slacks. Bucky whined through his nose at the pain. She cooed, hand traveling up his thigh to brush against his need. He swallowed down a mewl.

“You’re something else. Getting hard when you’re being punished. Such a bad boy.”

Bucky frowned again then shot her a pitiful look. He wasn’t a bad boy, atleast he wasn’t trying to be! Bucky blinked dumbly at the road. His wife’s voice came through the haze, “C’mon Buck don’t go dumb on me yet. Parking is on the left.” On autopilot, he managed to park the car and escort his lady out.

She stepped in front of him, shouldering off the offered hand. Bucky moaned in distress and followed behind her like a lovesick puppy. He whined, “Don’t leave me behind!” The woman turned around with a smirk, eyes roving across his form. She replied, “Quit being needy baby— I’m not going anywhere.” Bucky softened slightly at the pet name but his cock stirred again.

He dug the heel of his palm into the swollen flesh, biting his lip to stifle noise. Bucky’s wife tutted and slapped at his hand, then turned to open the door to their brownstone. She kicked off her heels and walked to their room. Bucky did the same, calling her name as he followed her along. He watched hungrily as she unzipped her dress, smiling softly.

“Go change your clothes, puppy. I’m having my shower and you better be ready when I’m out.”

She moved away towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut. Bucky winced and his heart fell when he heard the lock. He pouted now, sullenly going to the ‘special drawer’. He rifled through the lingerie, settling on a baby blue set he knew she liked. “Brings out your eyes,” he remembered her whispering. He flushed and shivered at the memory.

Bucky stripped off his coat and yanked down his tie. He unbuttoned his shirt with frantic fingers, doing the same to his pants. Bucky moaned helplessly when he pushed down his underwear, brushing against his sensitive cock. The swollen member hit his belly when he uncovered it. Taking a deep breath Bucky collected and folded the clothes. He trembled with anticipation, heart thudding rapidly.

He slipped on the soft stockings first, shuddering at the feeling. Next came the garter, which Bucky shimmied on, his face flushing deeper in hot shame. He pulled at it, the material cutting into his softened waist and belly. He frowned down at the poorly fitting garter. His pretty baby was going to tease him to tears. Grabbing the last article of clothing, Bucky gazed at the skimpy panties. He had no clue where his wife even ordered them but he slipped on the silk clothing.

The soft material felt nice against his sensitive skin, Bucky’s lashes fluttering in response. When he pulled them up over his hips he mewled softly. The tight panties were snug against his leaking cock and achy balls. His left hand whirred as it twitched towards his crotch. He groaned, restraining himself or he’d be an even worse boy.

Bucky gingerly walked to the big bed and sat on the edge, tucking his arms behind his back. He whimpered in need, clenching his eyes closed to blot out the bright light. Bucky chewed on his lip as he waited, listened, and waited. He vaguely heard her humming and a couple of objects moving around. The fog began to collect around the edge of the brunette’s thoughts again, swaddling his racing mind. The humiliation of the lingerie and perching himself like a needy whore was fueling Bucky’s heady desire.

“Buck?,” came a soft voice. His missus voice. Bucky whined lowly, keeping his head down. He heard her bare feet padding across the floor. The light clicked off and a candle was lit. She instructed him to look up. He could see the outline of her until she got closer, his baby coming into view. Her eyes were soft but her face was locked into a predatory expression.

Bucky’s lips trembled as she caressed his jaw. She breathed, “Oh Bucky- you look so sweet. Like a good boy.” Oh please, Bucky thought. All he wanted to be was her good boy.

She crawled onto his thick thighs, seating herself flush to her husband. Bucky whimpered thinly, twitching.

“Lay back now,” she whispered into the shell of his ear. Following orders Bucky dropped back, no usual finesse on his part. Everything sounded dull and his muscles were lax. But he was keyed up to a 10. Bucky tried to speak but ended up whining and slurring nonsense; to which she pressed a finger against his lips. Her wide eyes sparkled when she murmured, “Shh bear. I’ve got you. This won’t be long- I know you’re sorry.”

“S’sorry,” Bucky cried lowly.

She stroked a tiny hand down his chest, soothingly stroking at the built muscle. She laid featherlight kisses onto his jaw and neck. Bucky preened, moaning at the soft touches. He faintly jerked when his wife’s fingertips swirled around his peaked nipple. Her lips split into a wide grin as she pinched at the sensitive nub. She teased, “So responsive, easy little thing.” Bucky was reeling when his girl combined the pinches with a roll of her hips.

“F-fuck!,” he cried.

Her hands moved down to the garter, rubbing at the flesh rolling out around it. Bucky’s wife taunted, “Oh, s’gotten a little tight hm? Maybe instead of yammering about our relationship around the lunch table you should get back to boxing?” Bucky gasped in mortification, his dick spurting out pre at the same time. She continued, “My plump little housewife at home— y’think they’d suspect it?“ She groped meanly at the fluff on Bucky’s belly, him squirming and whining in response.

“S-stop,” he begged, blue eyes watery and wide.

Bucky liked the humiliation so much, but he wouldn’t— couldn’t admit it out loud. His cock could clearly show you how much he was into it. It currently was staining the front of the silk panties. The woman tilted her head as she replied, “Oh sorry baby, was that mean? I don’t care.” Bucky sniveled at her response, tears rolling down his full cheeks.

Her hand finally, finally reached the hem of the underwear. The woman pulled down the blue silk to reveal Bucky’s cock. He hissed at the cold air hitting his hot skin. She marveled at his swollen member, flushed almost purple and profusely leaking. She moaned lowly, “Oh baby, that looks like it hurts. Want me to play with it?” Bucky nodded viciously, little whiny ‘yesses’ falling from his plump lips.

His wife rudely spat into her palm then wrapped her lithe hand around him. Bucky yelped like he’d been burned, twitching underneath her. Bucky hoped he was being good enough for her because she was still so angry. She ruthlessly jacked his cock, scolding Bucky about how bad he’d been. The brunette moaned non-stop, drooling pathetically. He was close already, his balls drawing up painfully.

He cried out his baby’s name, feeling his orgasm begin and followed by absolutely nothing. Bucky blanched at the loss, registering the denial seconds too late. He let out a confused sob, shaking intensely. Bucky mewled, “Nnno please baby— oh m’sorry sorry m’so sorry. Fuck it hurts s’bad, oh god!” He squirmed at his balls aching, the sensitive flesh swelling up even more. She pecked him on the lips, circling her thumbs on his plush sides patiently.

“That’s a good boy, shush, be still, taking your punishment so well. So proud of you sweet, handsome thing.”

‘Yes, yes,’ Bucky thought earnestly. He could deal with the pain if he got his miss to praise him like that. His stomach flipped excitedly at the prospect of her forgiving him. A delirious smile flicked onto Bucky’s face. She pressed a kiss to his delicate nose, her hand speeding up again. Bucky fluctuated between whiny cries and deep moans as she worked his cock.

“That’s so good, my pretty. My Bucky being such a good boy for me.”

“‘M your good boy?,” Bucky echoed in a frantic voice.

“Mhm,” she sighed.

Her thumb swirled around his sensitive tip relentlessly, not stopping until Bucky’s legs were shaky and he was sniffling. He whined, “Oh doll, miss, Jesus Christ, oh!” When he approached the jumping off point she pulled back again. His face crumpled and he sobbed hoarsely, gripping his hands so hard in the sheets she heard them ripping. Bucky’s brain was fried at this point as he wept. His wife stroked his sweaty hair, scratching her nails into his scalp.

“S’okay Buck, you’re okay,” she soothed.

His chest wrenched with another sob, throwing his head back. His angelic demon of a partner asked, “D’ya wanna come bear?” Bucky could only let out a string of incoherent whimpers, his eyes fluttering and nose running. Bucky knew he looked like a mess— but she gazed at him like he hung the moon. She pressed herself on top of him, breasts against his wide chest. She grasped his chin and thumbed the drool away.

Bucky’s sobbing had died down to breathless pants as he watched her. “Color?,” she inquired. Batting the heavy cotton out of his brain Bucky managed a weak ‘green ma’am’. He sniffled again at the ache between his thighs, pounding and heady. She whispered, “Kiss me then?” The brunette puckered his lips and she closed the gap.

Bucky thinly moaned her name, desperately seeking her approval. He couldn’t move his lips as confidently as he usually did. She picked up the slack, kissing Bucky even more senseless. Her tongue roved around his mouth and massaged his own softly. He rutted up against her wet sex out of instinct.

His baby laughed into his mouth meanly and pulled back. Bucky chased her lips only to receive a tut. He whined in frustration, tears threatening to well up again. She grinned as she spoke, “Hush now— you’ve been doing so good. Crybaby.” Bucky pouted and clenched his fists up. He knew he’d been a weepy thing but didn’t need a reminder.

“I’m just teasing! I know you’re hurting bad. Think you can handle my pussy now? Not gonna blow your load immediately like a needy slut are you?”

Bucky shook his head vigorously. He was going to prove himself but he couldn’t find the words for it. She laughed again and reached down between them to guide his cock into her. Her composure broke at the stretch, the woman’s lips falling open in a moan. Bucky painfully groaned and shut his eyes, afraid he’d blow from seeing how pretty his wife looked above him.

She stayed still and gave him some time. Bucky was reeling from the feeling of her snug, wet heat around his achy cock. He cried, “Ah- ah— fuck!” Her legs wrapped around his hips as she rolled them over, Bucky now on top. He blinked at her and braced his hands to keep his full weight from bearing down.

“C’mon and show me how it’s done, slut. Punish me big man, like ya’ tell your friends,” she taunted and slapped his ass.

Bucky whined, dimly pondering if that was the only noise he could articulate now. He pulled out slowly and thrust back in with a slap. She arched her back, face smugly looking up. Bucky trembled and tried to fight his body screaming at him to release. He knew his wife would have to give permission first. Again he drew back and jerked into her.

“That’s the best you can do? I said fuck me James.”

Bucky’s cheeks were wet with tears again. He had to be a good boy even if it was going to be the last thing he did. He’d always been told he was stubborn. With a shaky exhale he started an easy pace into her lax body. He bit down on his lower lip, grunting and whining like he was hurt. She gasped and gripped onto his broad shoulders. Pretty legs wrapped around his soft waist, goading him on.

Bucky felt the initial insistent heat in his loins die down, thrusting into his girl harder. “Yeah, yeah that’s it puppy,” she chanted. Bucky latched his swollen lips onto her breasts: biting, sucking, and licking. The woman’s cunt leaked more at the roughening thrusts, wet noises filling the air. She whined his name when Bucky suckled at her nipple.

Bucky keened and moved a hand down to her sensitive bundle of nerves. He had to make his angel come. The sargeant slurred, “M’your good boy.” She moaned in excitement and gripped at his dark hair. The woman cried out, “You are- fuck don’t stop!” Bucky swirled his thumb around her clit harder, feeling her cunt draw tight around him. She yanked at his hair as she throatily rasped, “The best boy, come with me Buck c’mon sweetheart. Love you.”

Bucky’s heart leaped, his wife had granted him permission. Needy kisses were laid on Bucky’s sensitive throat. One hand gripped his hair, the other lovingly rubbing at his back. “Love you,” Bucky weeped. She dug her heels in as she writhed, moaning Bucky’s name like a prayer.

Bucky was frantically rutting into her now. He couldn’t stop— chasing their orgasm like a mad man.

Sweat dripped down Bucky’s neck and chest. He gathered his baby’s lips into a kiss, crying out between lip locks. He whimpered, “Mh! Gonna come baby gonna f’you up, ah sorry can’t stop!” He repeated his needy apologies as he took from her. She yelped in ecstasy and tightened around Bucky’s cock. Her moans pitched up as she rocketed into a peak.

She pulled his hair one last time and threw her head back, exposing the column of her throat. Bucky wailed when he emptied into her tight pussy. He slammed his hips into hers, milking himself one last time. The pulse of her hot cunt felt like a gut punch. Bucky needily babbled on as his balls emptied. He trembled down to his toes and tucked his face into her neck.

He shook through the orgasm, feeling like hours had passed before the pleasure was less intense. She cooed and praised Bucky throughout the whole ordeal, gently replying to his slurred nonsense with a smile on her pretty face. She tapped his cheek and Bucky groggily raised his head to look. His wife chuckled, “Oh Buck you’re so cute. Did so well baby boy.”

Bucky rasped, “Thank you s’much.” He wasn’t sure if he was responding to the compliment or the magical sex. She rolled Bucky to his side, him sliding out in the process with a whimper. His wife cuddled closer and hugged him tightly— exactly how he liked after a punishment. Bucky blinked away some welling tears. His mind was clear enough that he murmured, “I’ll straighten everything out at work, I promise. I didn’t mean to shame you.”

“I know bear, I know. Just relax now. We’re alright. I love you, I’m here, you’re my good boy, I’m not going anywhere.”

#sub!bucky #chubby!bucky #50’s au #Bucky survives the war #bucky barnes smut #Bucky barnes x reader #dom reader

[precious-little-scoundrel]

so how do ida and John both deal with the grappling between religion and the fact that she’s pregnant? I imagine there’s a lot of nuance and interesting perspectives with that

Ooh this hits. *straightens up in my seat and tightens the harness*

I’m assuming you mean Ida and John Brady -not John Egan…I’m gonna assume that but, there’s too many John’s in one place here haha.

Ok, caution, this gets dark, cheers—-

I do have the headcanon, and it’s very much just my headcanon, that the Brady’s are a rather typical Irish American Catholic family from rural New York. Different say, from that of the inner city rough and tumble sort.

They grew up with community, a church where mass was attended and precepts considered law, rosaries are in their footlockers, crucifixes tangled in the dog tags. They give thanks for their food, they save sex for marriage and they try to do right by their fellow man -and sometimes that requires bombing the fuck outta nazi bullies.

So here they are. And now…this.

I think from a religious stand point the “blame” is very obviously not on Ida. Johnny would never think so, ever, although there’s certainly the very real aspect of “shame” about it, but not in a faulty way. She didn’t have fun in the backseat during a drive in movie and now she’s knocked up.

Obvs there is no “blame” for any rape victim but I don’t think even a very “self-blaming” person like Ida thinks she coulda done more in this case.

However, also from a religious stand point, what’s ahead is very very very rough because, according to their beliefs -this means she’s with child, that’s a life in there, and yet, all circumstances considered, both brother and sister can’t help but hope the pregnancy doesn’t last.

Malnutrition and a host of other natural stressors could easily -and guiltlessly- terminate this “condition” and I think it’s a bit of a pall on both of them that they almost want to pray for it. But could never.

Ok, maybe Johnny does so his sister isn’t the damned one…

Let’s add Bucky in here too because even though it’s not a religious issue for him, he still considers that to be a baby, and to wish it away is awful, to have Ida killed for it is awful, to have a baby born with German fathers is also awful.

Literally all of it messes with everything he feels is fair or right and ought to be untouched by this war. He figured there’d be hard decisions, this is another level entirely.

Anyway, hope this didn’t get too dark for you but hey, welcome to the sorta history deep dives I do instead of drinking sangria and chilling out. 🫡🤗

#angst sessions apply here #legit not sure why it’s cathartic to discuss this stuff with me but uh yeah I love it and keep it coming #those who can #TWC asks #tw: rape

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 1

Propaganda under the cut

Natasha Romanoff

People frequently write her as a Sexy, Intimidating, and Competent piece of furniture; she exists to be mildly intimidating, but has no real desires or inner life of her own, and all of her actions in the story revolve around the main m/m pair. Meanwhile, the m/m pair thinks of her as a Close Teammate(tm) but never devotes time or emotional energy to what might be going on in her life.

usually in certain fics she often just gets turned into a wingwoman for Steve, or if the fic is Tony centric she often ends up being bashed because of the whole team tony/team cap thing. 

Some of the best series Marvel has ever done were Black Widow solo runs. Unfortunately she was also Bucky's love interest at one point, and (before the MCU blew the fuck up) she was often fridged or villainised.

Peggy Carter

She’s a victim of Stucky mainly bc of the way marvel used her to give Steve an ooc ‘happy ending, but I know I’ve seen some posts calling her toxic or something it was 2019 so In CAT:FA, she’s introduced as a confident British agent. She has some chemistry w Steve Rogers (although more fans (on tumblr at least) preferred Steve and Bucky). She wasn’t just *woman who is strong*, but also had some emotional depth, with an actual range of emotion outside of angry and sad. She had a spin-off show, and she just continued to fight Russians and misogynists, even having chemistry in an almost wlw relationship and an eventual marriage to a famous shield agent. She went through character development and just was an awesome character. Then you know what endgame does? It has Steve Rogers travel back in time and take all of that development away. Most fans were mad at Marvel, and a lot were mad at Steve, but some fans threw Peggy completely under the bus, saying that they traded the (fanon?) queer ship/(canon) friendship for a bland love interest, which, um, she was so much more then that? I remember people really disliking Peggy, which isn’t fair to her character when she is/was so much more then that.

Peggy is vilified by people who ship Steve with his war comrade Bucky Barnes. I’ve even seen people claiming baselessly that she was secretly HYDRA the whole time. 

She gets in the way of stucky which OBVIOUSLY gives people, most of them women themselves, the right to be ridiculously misogynistic. Dismissing her character arc, traits, presence in the movies and her part in Steve Roger's life, saying she is insignificant on the ground of very subjective readings is one thing, but outright calling her 'just some old coochie', among other colourful, wonderful things, is another. They also keep reaching to villainize her (saying she's a literal nazi which she's not) and cancel her so their ship is somehow made more valid for it, erasing the competition as it were.

#round 1 #poll #natasha romanoff #black widow #peggy carter #marvel #marvel comics #mcu

[samwpmarleau]

fic: clippers

aka 1,500 words of me continuing to not accept bucky’s tfatws hair

Dr. Raynor had recommended it, though Bucky suspects she wasn’t the only person involved. These days, there’s a whole pack of people with say-so over his life, getting their jollies by hanging freedom over his head. She said it might help with people’s perception of him if he looked less like he did as an assassin. If he looked more like the young war hero who fought Nazis.

(Saving the universe counts for nothing, does it? he’d wanted to say but didn’t.)

It had irked him, the suggestion. Perhaps because it wasn’t really a suggestion. Raynor had thought he was resisting just to be contrary. He hadn’t had an issue with dressing like a twenty-first century civilian, after all, nor concealing his metal arm beneath jackets and gloves, so what’s the problem, James?

(That’s different, he’d wanted to say but didn’t. That’s so I don’t frighten anyone. So I don’t get stared at and invite questions people don’t want the answers to.)

All right, maybe part of him was just being contrary, because he’s already at his wits’ fucking end with how many conditions and surrendering of liberties this goddamn pardon has. But as he stands at the mirror, sharpened scissors in hand, it is not contrariness that makes him hesitate.

Nor is it the unfamiliarity of cutting his own hair, for he’s done that many times before, both before the war and since. He’s even got a picture to reference of some duck-lipped model showing off what Bucky can only describe as Generic Modern Man Haircut. He’d be Just Some Guy walking down the street with it, which is exactly what the government wants.

So, he does it both because he must and because any reason he can think of to not do it sounds pathetic, and although it’s not the fresh sort of cut he’d get from a proper barber, it’s serviceable. A few strategic passes of gel to disguise any unevenness and he’d be good to go.

(He’d tried that once, in Romania, having a professional touch up the ends, had even managed to tamp down his discomfort through the shampooing and smalltalk. The minute the man brandished the scissors and approached Bucky’s head with them, however, it was all he could do to not take those scissors and stab the man in the carotid out of pure reflex. He’d made it to the alleyway outside before expelling the street mici he’d had only an hour earlier, overcome by how easy the murder would have been. How natural. How he could have eliminated the entire shop of innocents before anyone knew what hit them. Erase the security tape, if there was one, and slip back into the ghost he was for seventy years. He’d returned in the dead of night to leave an envelope with a note of apology and a wad of lei and, needless to say, from then on the only blades that touched his hair were his own.)

He doesn’t recognize the man staring back at him in the mirror, once all is said and done. Which is a bit ludicrous; it’s a haircut, not plastic surgery, and for most of his conscious life he’d had short hair. This shouldn’t be any different. Yet, still he stands there in the bathroom with scissors in his hand and a sink full of brunette strands, for far longer than is reasonable.

He sucks it up, eventually, adjusts to the new length — or lack thereof. In fairness, some of it is easier. Showers are shorter, his hair tie budget is nonexistent, the drain clogs with less frequency, and he doesn’t look quite so much like a drowned rat when it rains.

Dr. Raynor is pleased when he shows up. She says it suits him, that it makes him look normal, that folks will have a harder time recognizing him as the Winter Soldier.

(They already don’t recognize me, he wants to say but doesn’t. I could be standing in front of a newscast about myself and no one would notice. I spent the better part of a century in the shadows — you think I don’t know how to hide?)

“James,” she says in that self-righteous way she does so well, “this is progress.”

She must be right, for she’s got that fancy, framed degree up on her wall that says she’s right, and there’s the goddamn pardon thing that means he cannot step one foot over the line no matter how ridiculous that line is. He utters a thank-you to her, white-knuckles his way through the session, and continues trying to cobble together a life.

Sam brings it up one day, after Walker, the Flag Smashers, and Bucky’s tentative integration into the Wilsons’ orbit. “Meant to say, looks good, man.”

It’s an innocuous statement, really. Well, it should be. Sam regards him a little too long, a little too probingly, for Bucky to believe that it is, in fact, innocuous. Sam’s gauging his reaction is what he’s doing, so Bucky denies a reaction that permits any gauging at all. The slight frown that appears between Sam’s brows tells him he succeeded.

Sam keeps up the ruse nonetheless, following it up with a playful insult as to Bucky’s cutting skills. He texts him the address of someone who is, allegedly, the best barber in Louisiana, tells him he made an appointment for tomorrow afternoon. Bucky goes. It’s not like he’s got anything better to do these days.

He’s the only white guy in the place, which elicits both stares from the other patrons and a hearty laugh from the barber resetting his station. “Sergeant Barnes?”

“How’d you guess?” Bucky deadpans, earning himself another laugh.

He’s gotten better at controlling his fears, his impulses, so the barber’s array of scissors and razors does not send him straight into the alleyway like it did years ago. The soul food from around the corner stays firmly in his stomach. The barber himself — Marcus — is jovial, considerate, and does his best to counter the uneasiness Bucky knows must be rolling off him in waves. Some good-natured shit-talking to cap things off.

Despite it all, when Marcus asks, “Just maintenance, sarge? Or you lookin’ for something new?” Bucky pauses.

And pauses some more, prompting Marcus to ask again, “Mr. Barnes?”

“Sorry,” Bucky says, realizing he’s a few more seconds of silence away from making Marcus genuinely concerned. “I just, uh …”

“I got a few suggestions, if you need,” Marcus offers. “Bit of fade on the sides, or —”

“No,” Bucky blurts out.

Marcus holds his hands up. “All right, no fade then.”

“That’s not — I didn’t mean —” Bucky takes a deep breath through his nose, exhales through his mouth. “I’m not trying to be rude, it’s …”

Bucky looks in the mirror again. Takes in the same face he’s seen for the past seven months, ever since Dr. Raynor gave him the suggestion-that-wasn’t-a-suggestion. He trusts in Marcus’s talents, that even Sam would find it worthy of a compliment.

(He can’t say he’d turn down a compliment from Sarah either, flirting ban be damned. It’d be Sam’s own fault, anyway.)

“I’m growing it out,” Bucky declares, as much to himself as to Marcus.

“Okay, cool. I can see it.” Then Marcus adds, almost pleads, “I gotta at least clean it up. No disrespect, but did you use a hacksaw?”

Bucky lets his mind drift as Marcus’s twang launches into another story. Half an hour later, he comes away with a list of must-watches and must-eats, plus a full pamphlet on how to not fuck up Marcus’s handiwork. After a generous tip and firm handshake, Bucky emerges from the shop feeling … not strange, exactly, but something.

The unspoken change, once it’s noticed in the months afterwards, garners him a variety of responses from the Wilson clan. When Bucky’s birthday rolls around, Sam and the giggling boys go in on a smorgasbord of scrunchies and clips that Bucky’s fairly certain were designed for a six-year-old girl. More seriously, a tin of pomade that Bucky knows is damn expensive.

For Sarah’s part, several hours later, the pain-pleasure of her knotting her fingers in his hair as she gasps out his name like a prayer is, he thinks, a resounding endorsement.

(Dr. Raynor would — possibly literally — smack him in the face with disappointment if she saw. Walker’d taken care of that, though, of her say-so having any bearing on his choices. Not that Bucky plans on sending the man a thank-you note or anything.)

As it nears his shoulders, Bucky supposes it does make him resemble the Winter Soldier. More than the bright-eyed draftee who gave his life for god and country, anyway, or the subject of the post-Snap government’s rebranding campaign.

Except, in his reflection he also sees the fugitive who’d been coaxed by his elderly neighbor into Sunday dinners of enough sarmale and mămăligă and papanași to give even his metabolism a run for its money. The man who’d been gifted new life, goats, and an affectionate nickname by Wakandans who never once looked at him with fear. The reluctant soldier who stood side-by-side with a talking raccoon and Asgardian god against an alien onslaught.

And maybe it’s silly to put so much stock in something as simple as hair. Maybe Bucky’s value system is in worse shape than his ability to tell fact from fiction when he wakes from a dream (a memory?).

But when he stares into the mirror with the Louisiana heat sticking hair and clothes alike to his skin, a house full of scampering feet, bickering, and hot breakfast just outside the door, it is not the Winter Soldier or James Barnes The Upstanding Member of Society that he sees. He sees himself. Just himself.

“You good, Buck?” Sarah asks when he comes downstairs, worry in her eyes. “You were in there awhile.”

“Yeah,” he wants to say — and does, because he can, because it’s the truth. A smile creeps onto his face. “I’m good.”

#idk man i saw some tweets about how bucky is seemingly going back to the long hair for thunderbolts and went oh??? #anyway. there's a bit of #bucky x sarah #because i couldn't help myself but most of this is gen if that matters #also feat. bucky's awful therapist #bucky barnes #christina raynor #sam wilson #sarah wilson #marvel fic #my fic

[grownfairytale]

Mend My Shattered Existence

Theme(s): Bucky Barnes (Memories, "But I knew him...") mixed with On Your Left (The Smithsonian, PTSD) and To the End of the Line (1940s, Reunion) for @catws-anniversary

Rating: M (Just to be safe)

Word Count: 8,329

Summary: Following pulling Captain America from the Potomac River, the asset - freed from HYDRA's grasp - decides to find out the truth of who he once was. Takes place between the end of Captain America: The Winter Soldier up until Bucky and Steve reunite in Captain America: Civil War

Notes: Thank you to @gay-jewish-bucky for the verbalization/contextualization of the mikvah energy. Bucky is nonbinary and uses (currently) he/him pronouns. Italicized scenes are full on memories (as opposed to descriptions of memories/fragments of memories). A couple of Steve/Bucky scenes come from an RP with a friend. Also available on AO3

AO3 Tags: Bucky Barnes, Introspection, Character study, Nonbinary/Genderqueer Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Implied sex, Implied/Referenced sexual activity, Violence, Referenced experimentation, Antisemitism, Nazis

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Barukh atah Adonai, eloheinu melekh ha-olam, asher kid-shanu b'mitz'votav, v'tzi-vanu al ha-t'vilah.

The first time the asset came up for air after plunging into the water from the helicarrier, the only thing on his mind was survival. It was only for a brief moment before the pull of the current dragged him into the water once more.

Baruch atah adonay, eloheinu, melech haolam, shehechiyanu, v’ kiyimanu, v’ higianu, lazman hazeh.

The second time he came up for air, there was struggle. Grasping. A feeling that something was off, wrong. He shouldn’t care that he was the only one who had come up and yet… A decision was made and it was into the water one more time. 

Compassionate God,

Healer of my body,

Healer of my soul,

Heal me.

Strengthen my ailing body;

Soothe my aching heart;

Mend my shattered existence.

Make me whole.

The third time the asset came up, he had made a choice for himself, against his programming. A choice to save instead of destroy. A choice that felt right and not like it went against something deep within. It didn’t make sense but it was instinct and right. In his hand was Captain America, the man he didn’t know (couldn’t know because to know was to bring pain, the scrambling of his mind to nothing but orders). His idealism would end him, but not today. Leaving the man on the bank of the Potomac River as his friends would find him, the asset disappeared in the shadows, a new mission in mind. 

As night came, the asset found himself at the Ideal Federal Savings Bank and two of the scientists who had turned him into this, a weapon, were there. The ones who made him do the things he had, the terrible things, the things Captain America didn’t know, the reason he could see him as someone he wasn't. And there was fear in their eyes.

“M…mission report…” 

“It’s done. Captain America is dead.”

Their relief was temporary, as that was when the asset struck, his true mission in motion. Revenge for the terrible things that they had done. It would be so easy. One hand pulled back, the other grasping the younger scientist’s neck and then words spoken years ago were repeated.

“I beg you. I have a daughter. P…please…” 

Whether it was a veil raising or the fog clearing just a bit more…. The asset couldn’t say. All he knew was that he didn’t want any more blood on his hands. What was there to gain? These men would scurry back to their homes, praying that their own identities would be saved from the release of information. What was there to say or do but disappear into the shadows, to become the ghost story he was in the intelligence community. Money. 

Clothes.

Washington D.C. was surveilled but a place of transients coming in and out for work, for travel. Safe houses would be burned, but that didn’t mean ingrained training disappeared. A cheap apartment to rent weekly to lay low in. An indent on the doorframe where…something familiar once had been. 

It would be a lie to say the nights were worse, or trying to sleep was when it was worse. After all, the images, the flashes, what he had done… The face in the mirror was wrong. The body, there was too much bulk. The weapon he had been forced to become. And always the pleading that never went away until the silence after the gunshot. A name had been chosen on the off chance one had to be given as it wasn’t like he knew who he was (Captain America called him Bucky, but there was no weight to that name. Nothing that tethered him to it). 

Jonathan. 

It was only at one place, Loeb’s Deli, where it seemed the asset had made the mistake to go frequently, but again, there was something familiar. And so he needed a name. Different languages spoken all around, words picked up and sentences. Not just about what had happened at the Triskelion, but the information dump, the Senate hearings, what was to come next. Then there were the conversations about the day to day going ons, travel plans. An exhibit at the Smithsonian about Captain America. The former mission.  The man he knew but didn’t know. The link to his past. 

Did he want to know, should he? Would it matter? It wouldn’t erase the blood or pain, the memories imprinted on his body even as his mind was shattered from decades of being scrambled, erased, all for the mission. Yet there was that tug, and so a week after making that fateful decision to pull Captain America from the water, that instinct to save his life despite the mission, the asset made his way to the Smithsonian, ball cap in place to avoid being caught on camera. 

Each wing seemed focused on a different part of Captain America’s life. Some of it was the sort of thing one would expect to read in a museum, yet the asset couldn’t shake the feeling that there were things missing. That feeling was pushed aside though. It was in the wing for the Howling Commandos that things changed. He saw his face there. A panel dedicated to a man he saw glimpses of himself in, James Buchanan Barnes.

Bucky…

Who the hell is Bucky?

The asset turned the name over in his mind. James felt wrong in the way Jonathan was  wrong, a mask of what was seen, expected. It was something that didn’t make sense, where there weren’t words for. Bucky felt like it had to be earned. Yet it still felt more right than the other two names if only to have something to hold onto other than the asset.

The history of this James Buchanan Barnes was written there, the only Howling Commando to give his life in the line of duty. The words he read flashed images in his mind, but in that moment, the emotional tethers of those images still did not exist. Even so, it was a lead. Information, images, to chase, to see if remembering would wash over the memories that haunted him, chased him no matter the time of day.

With the week lease up, the asset, James, Bucky, made his way to the nearest train yard to sneak onto freight train headed to New York City, a city of cameras and people, a city that memorial said he had grown up, where perhaps the memories would come back, this time perhaps with those emotional connections that would tether the images to something more concrete. Something he could hold onto. 

Closing his eyes, the asset let his mind wander to what he had read and seen in the exhibit. But there were other images as well. Enemies closing in. Being separated from the others. Strapped to a table. The pain. That was something he could remember, the fire in his blood. The certainty of death. The words intermixed with his name, rank and serial number. The words he had to say when it seemed clear he would die. 

Sh’ma yisrael

Adonai eloheinu

Adonai echad…

The words were mouthed even as the images flashed again, Captain America, Steve Rogers, stood over him, relieved to a pub with the men from the exhibit to a room where Steve Rogers stood before him before his lips were on his own. At least until the formerly captured soldier stepped back warily because these were boundaries that couldn’t be crossed with his best friend. And he didn’t even know if this was real, or pity because hadn’t he just been flirting with someone else hours before? So why the change?

“I…I’m sorry, I thought that you…that I…” 

“You don’t need to pity me, I’m fine.” The voice that came out was hard, a way to guard himself. But the shock on Steve’s face made it clear that perhaps Bucky had been misreading the situation, so sure of everything and how it had been before. 

“I would never mock you, Buck. I was heartbroken when Phillips said you were most likely dead and I realized that my life wasn’t worth living if I can’t share it with you.” 

Those were words Bucky had never expected to hear, let alone from the man in front of him. 

“Never say your life is not worth living.” And with that, Bucky kissed Steve, which somehow turned to the two of them on the bed, having to remember to keep quiet as clothing was lost and limbs were entangled. Where breath became a symphony as they found a new dynamic that was always there, simmering beneath the surface, never breached and always just out of reach until now. 

And that was enough remembering, Bucky’s eyes snapping open, the images slowly fading away. There should be more emotional weight to what he had seen, what had not been in the Smithsonian exhibit. Perhaps with time but his body remembered, could feel the truth. Now though, he had to get off the train. 

New York City would have the answers. 

Arriving in Brooklyn, the borough was familiar and unfamiliar. But Bucky was used to readjusting and navigating a new location. The training to gather information, only the information being sought was information on who he had been before. Before the experiments. Before the pain. Before the orders. Before the mindless haze of what was expected by various handlers over the decades, his body not his own but the property of others. No choice. Any sign of remembering, of being Bucky, violently erased time and time again. The training did come in use though. The ability to disappear into the shadows, into the crowds of people without being noticed, without being caught on the many CCTVs the city had. 

The paths were familiar. But everything was so much more. It was something Bucky couldn’t explain. Like his feet knew where to go, like he knew that there were more people than there should be, more lights, more sounds. These were things that Bucky pushed down and instead the once Winter Soldier (no, that was all he would ever be to anyone, no matter what he did now) found another rent by the week apartment, only this one had the an empty case where the previous one only had an indent where a case once had been. Instinct and muscle memory were powerful things as Bucky raised his fingers to his lips and pressed it to the empty case, as if it meant something even knowing there should be something of importance and meaning, a promise and reminder, in the case. 

Apartment procured, the next thing to do was get enough to survive. Bucky wasn’t sure how long he would be there. What answers he would get, if any, but that would be figured out later. Right now it was getting the necessities, ensuring a go bag was ready for the second he had to up and leave. He was a blank slate, the shadows of memory reaching for him, the most foundational there already. 

The mouthed words.

The muscle memory. 

What felt familiar even when most of the images and names still were more like a flickering picture reel than anything that felt solid. 

The first night out exploring, Bucky just walked wherever his feet took him, familiar paths down unfamiliar streets. Buildings had changed and buildings also seemed the same, or some did. It was hard to say what was real and what wasn’t. The faint outline of people milling about. At least until he stopped in front of one building. The facade was different but the feeling was…. 

The exhaustion of wearing a mask. As if this was a place to go when the mask was too much. The anxiety of being spotted. More flashes of images and fragments of feelings or thoughts to make some sense of them. Men with towels around their waists or nothing at all, steam. The exploration and expression of needs and desires or just to be, the release from expectations and knowing it was only inside that building, or what had once been that building and others like it, with people like him, where the mask could be dropped. 

Another night and it was another flash of memory, two flesh hands instead of one working on a costume, no, not a costume, but something that he could never be caught wearing normally… Something that felt more true than the way everyone saw him. More secrecy. More worry of being caught. But that one night of freedom with others like him to be as he felt the most comfortable in his own skin in a world that had enough issues with him already. 

Those images and accompanying thoughts and feelings had been interesting and enough to lead Bucky to the library to do reading and research. With these flashes of images and his own history supposedly stopping in 1945, there were now seventy years of history to look up. Of progress. Of words that maybe could fill in the blanks where words hadn’t even existed before. 

The language that was used was different now… it seemed the bathhouses still existed - not like Bucky had much interest in that. And the history book mentioned the other flashes of memories seemed to line up with something known as drag balls or fairy balls, most popular during the Pansy Craze that had died out when he would have been 18, yet some had still gone on for a bit later. But more than that, there was language for that fleeting feeling he had felt.

The feeling that he had just brushed aside as being because he had no identity beyond what was given to him as the asset, before he now was searching for who he had been and who he could be. 

This feeling of being in his skin, his body. How he approached and felt about the way society saw him and he saw himself. Mouthing the terms genderqueer and nonbinary to himself, Bucky filed the information away. There was more reading to be done but the library was closing and there were candles to light as it was Friday night.  What that meant, Bucky couldn’t quite say, but he knew that it meant something and that something was going to be a lifeline. 

Nights remained the hardest though. Because at night on the floor, the images had more weight to them. 

The orders that came from his handlers. 

The pleading.

The violence that followed him wherever he went

The blood that never washed away.

Then there were the other nights.

The scientists that hovered over him.

The feeling of his blood on fire. 

Being strapped onto board. Trapped.

Exposed. 

He couldn’t breathe.

He would never be free.

Was it a wonder he barely slept? When those were the flashes that had the most emotional weight? That felt the most real? And it wasn’t as if the nightmares, the memories, were just from his time as the asset. The Winter Soldier. No. These came from before, during the war. Fighting to protect those in his unit, dragged to where no one came back from… The knowing look that his dog tags were a lie… 

Even so, every day, Bucky would wander and get more flashes. A scrawny kid getting beat up and stepping in and forever being by that kid’s side.

That had to be Steve. The museum exhibit had said that they had been inseparable both on the schoolyard and the battlefield since childhood. 

Images of three sisters, a family, dinner with candles, traditions that he felt in his bones. The familiar recitations, movements, the scents. The people were still faint but those, those were more familiar, more grounding. Those memories became part of Bucky’s weekly routine. He had found a building he wanted to go into, but it was too much of a risk and so he didn’t. But he could feel it in his bones… 

And he knew that the memorial lied about his history. Was it the dog tags he knew had lies on them in his dreams? The knowing look, the spike of anxiety from deep within that went beyond just being strapped and at the mercy of HYDRA? 

It was something more to look into. 

Because if the memorial lied, or had gotten that part wrong, what else had it gotten wrong? As the Winter Soldier, he had helped  to topple governments, he may have been nothing more than a weapon, but he knew how propaganda worked. What was the point? The things that wouldn’t be known? Sure, but that integral part of himself that he had never been able to hide, and hadn’t until the war, why hide it?

There were other flashes and memories as well, the ones that showed a side of America that it seemed history was all too keen to forget about. Questions about having horns or a tail by some kid at a funeral for…. Was that Steve’s mother? It would make sense. Snide comments. Listening to the radio and suddenly he was hearing someone else, a Father Charles Coughlin and seeing his Social Justice magazine printed with all sorts of antisemitism including claims of how America should just wait until Hitler came over to America and sending Jews away. Nazis at Madison Square Gardens. The America First Committee and German American Bund, watching the growing concerns in his family. Whispers of if it would be wise to leave. But where would be safe? 

These images painted a fuller picture, the love and joy, the friendship, but the harsh reality, yet still, the realest thing remained the Friday night candles. The blessing over wine and spices and the braided candle on Saturday. 

Bucky spent three and a half months in New York City, going to places that were familiar - Yonah Schimmel’s Knish Bakery had an oddly familiar sense to it, somewhere he had gone before. It was comforting. Bucky had found a lot of places like that in the neighborhood he had found for his weekly rental. The mix of images, good and bad, from a time long forgotten, glorified and polished with a veneer of respectability with none of those pesky things that people would have to take a closer look at, to deconstruct and grapple with. It was the past after all and look at this bright and shiny future. And in the midst of that, he had done more reading. On what he had missed in general. And more of who he might be. So when the parade came, it was… Bucky didn’t quite have the words. To see something that was now more embraced, accepted that once had been hidden for fear, that he never would have been able to voice, that he kept locked away (the museum said he had been a lady’s man….he might not have a solid grasp on his memories but what those images like a picture film showed? Definitely contradicted that particular statement). It should be overwhelming. And it was in its own way even as he observed from the shadows. So many people embracing who they were, open and proud. It was… beautiful. 

And there was a twinge that Bucky couldn’t quite place. 

The following day had started like any other, Bucky had awoken in a cold sweat, not certain where he was or who he was at first before awareness slowly settled in, then getting something warm into him before going to wander. But across the way at midday was him. Captain America. Steve Rogers. And the truth he had been avoiding came crashing down. He couldn’t stay in New York. Not only were there world governments after him, especially thanks to the dump of information, but the Avengers were based in New York City and it was only a matter of time before he risked running into the man who seemingly knew him - certainly better than he currently knew himself. Let alone in a city with so much surveillance, no matter his skill at avoiding detection. 

No. It was dangerous to chase after information on who he had once been. That didn’t mean not being prepared though. Besides, it wasn’t like he could trust himself not to be a risk and threat to the man who had once been something to him, even if that something remained undefined and unspoken in the shadows of memory that faded from his grasp. 

Which was how Bucky found himself in Bucharest, in another small apartment with papered over windows. But it was fine, he didn’t need much anyway. His go bag was in the floorboards, ready to leave at a moment’s notice, exit strategy scoped out.  Bucharest was also where some semblance of a life began for Bucky.

The country was more conservative than New York had been and in that sense, it was more familiar to a past still mostly forgotten. Despite advances in LGBTQ rights (if only for political reasons to be able to join the European Union based on reading Bucky had done), the only place he would be able to explore gender expression would be his apartment. And it wasn’t like he had any real desire to seek out sex or a relationship. He couldn’t let anyone close and there just wasn’t that interest and as he mostly stuck to himself, there was less of a mask to be worn that required that release of tension. 

The only community Bucky did seek out was the Jewish community. He hadn’t been able to seek it out in New York. While much larger than the Jewish community in Romania, the need to remain hidden had been worse in New York and here? Here Bucky, or Ion as he was known, was easier. It was grounding. The traditions that he had picked up and done, Shabbat, remained, but now he went to shul, he made sure to know what holiday fell when. 

It was the first day of Rosh Hashanah and honestly, the idea of tashlich, of casting away of his sins seemed suspect at best. Oh, Bucky went to the Dambovita River and cast sticks into the water, though how could one cast away sins where there were holes in his memory? And the actions of the Winter Soldier were far too great… It made him dread Yom Kippur. How do you make amends to those who are dead? When families could be dead at this point? When you’re in hiding? All Bucky could do was not be that person anymore, to run from the trigger words inside of him, knowing he was still a risk, a danger. So when he cast away his sins, he also focused on what he wanted for this new year. A better grasp on who he was. 

Once home, Bucky had changed into a long skirt and blouse, covering his hair with a tichel. It was something for him, no one else. He was used to hiding himself already, but no one would be coming by. It was a regular routine by that point, grounding. He didn’t have any friends, nor could he. Even at the synagogue he had found, he kept mostly to himself. It was too dangerous. But he did make sure to take care of the stray cats in the neighborhood, one he had dubbed Kochava even tended to come inside more often than not. It wasn’t like most nights though, as there were candles to be lit. 

The difference though, was that some of the images from that would flicker in and out of his mind at random seemed to be longer, the picture film images were longer. The film not so filled with holes. 

The first one involved the woman Bucky recognized as his sister, Rebecca, sitting at a table with a heavy air over them, draft notice in Bucky’s hand. 

“What if you get captured? Don’t come home?”

It was a question that had been on Bucky’s mind as well. Going into war, to fight in Europe at that, well…there were going to be added risks for him. 

“The Army’s made it so, if we want, Jews can have a P put on our dog tags to mark as Protestant instead of the H…Better than trying to obscure it and drawing attention that way.” It left a foul taste in Bucky’s mouth, to deny such an integral part of who he was, but if it meant being able to have some form of protection, he should take it, right? 

“So that’s that then.” “What would you have me do, Becca?” Looking at his sister, he could tell she was just as at much of a loss as he was. Everything was so complicated. All there was to do was take this one step at a time, even if it left a pit in his stomach to do so.

Then he had to figure out how to tell Steve. Steve, who was always so willing to jump into a fight. Steve, who was desperate to join the Army, who refused to acknowledge there were other ways to help the war effort besides throwing his life away on the front in a desperate attempt to emulate his father because he had a chip on his shoulder and something to prove. Bucky could see what was hidden within the skinny, sick frame of his best friend, the person he couldn’t bear to lose. So how to tell him that he’d been drafted, that he hadn’t chosen this at all? 

As the memory faded, the impression remained and Bucky just blinked. Usually whatever emotional weight or impression would be gone as well but this time, this time it remained. Lingered in his mind, in his soul and consciousness. Huffing out a breath, all Bucky could do was watch as the flames of the candles, wondering if this was a fluke, or if there had been a shift and there would be more memories that would linger, if the emotional weight would remain. And then the more terrifying question.

If he did remain, what did that mean?

It soon became clear that it wasn’t a fluke. There was never telling when a memory would strike, good or bad. But the more Bucky became grounded in himself through tradition - be it Shabbat or just recreating recipes from the past, and reconnecting with that part of who he were, as well as exploring what felt comfortable to dress in when there was no one around, free to be true to himself, the more the memories would come. 

They weren’t all new memories. A lot of holes from previous ones seemed to be filling in. The emotional ties that had been missing regarding his family. Regarding Steve. 

Steve who he had taken upon himself to protect from that first fight on the play yard.

Steve who terrified him whenever he got sick and nearly died.

Steve who was stubborn as a mule and made Bucky want to bang his head on a wall sometimes. 

Steve who was the best person he knew and he never wanted to let down and so Bucky had sworn never to let him know about the part of himself he couldn’t reveal to anyone outside of specific safe walls. Because he would either reject him because that was society and he was Irish Catholic so it would just be a bridge too far for him (unlikely) or he would start picking even more fights because of things said and that was the last thing Bucky needed (likely). 

Steve, who was the most important person to Bucky outside of family, who was family really and Bucky loved. But only as a brother because that was all it ever could be because Steve was Irish Catholic and as far he could tell? Very much straight. And so to avoid losing his best friend by crossing boundaries, Bucky ensured a mental barrier was in place so his feelings would never go beyond that. He couldn’t lose Steve. 

Yet the other flashes of memories seemed to tell a different story. The ones in the lead up to the war? Sure. They tell that story, but the ones from after… Stolen moments where it is clear that Steven Grant Rogers is definitely not straight. There were still holes in Bucky’s memories, memories that came out of order, but that was something that was becoming more clear. 

And as the months went on, the memories that came happened even when Bucky wasn’t doing something rooted in the foundation he had created for himself. Though often they came while in the apartment where there was nothing that really made it a home as the former Winter Soldier in search of who he had once been knew that nothing was ever going to be permanent. After all, there was nothing in Bucharest to trigger the memories. Not like in New York. 

Bucky didn’t know how long it had been since Steve had come to his room, how long they had been lost in one another, learning new things about one another… just that his curls were sticking to his forehead and he were curled up against the super soldier, his arm holding him protectively as he traced designs on his chest, his arm, his abdomen, in the silent moments of calm. But there was still that lingering question… so even as he was still catching his breath, now seemed as good a time as any (and really, who knew when another time would come up), Bucky decided to ask even as he kept his focus on the absent minded design tracing he were doing, “So… going to tell me how this happened?” 

He could feel Steve shift some, as if he knew the question was coming, and really…how could it not?

“A doctor working with the Army and Strategic Scientific Reserve thought I was the perfect candidate for his serum he wanted to try out. To create a super soldier to help turn the tide of the war. It worked but… Dr. Erskine was shot and killed by a HYDRA assassin right after I became this. Phillips wanted to stick me in a lab, but Senator Brant got me to be a seller of war bonds.” 

Bucky listened intently as Steve explained what had happened. It had to have been at the Stark Expo, the fight from before he shipped out. And yet? He looked up at the man he was curled up against through his curls, quirking a brow, “So… you let a Jewish scientist run an experiment on you in order to create a super soldier to fight the Nazis, who are killing the Jewish people… Meaning you became a golem. Do I have that right?” Noticing the blush Steve had, Bucky waited until he got his answer. 

“Pretty much. Think I prefer that to being the performing monkey Brant made me.”

“A golem is much preferable to a performing monkey.”

Steve began to stroke Bucky’s hair as he continued to speak, Bucky leaning into his touch, “Dr. Erskine said a guy like me who’d never known power would respect it when they have it…. I made a promise to him to stay a good man…” 

Seeing the way that Steve was staring at the hand he was holding up by that point, Bucky shifted and kissed the spot over his heart, reaching up to take the raised hand and interlace their fingers, “I know you will.”  

The news coming out of Sokovia was….well, it was one of the things he had worried about. There was always going to be another threat. And this time? It wasn’t all glowing headlines about them saving the day, or taking down another HYDRA base. No. Like in D.C., like in Lagos, people had died. And people were angry. The question was what would come after this. Would any action be done or would people move on? Only time would tell it seemed. 

If Bucky could stay with those memories, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. But he couldn’t. Because at night, especially when Kochava hadn’t decided to follow him into the apartment and sleep right against him, the nightmares remained. Waking up unable to breathe, heart rate erratic and covered in a cold sweat. Sometimes it was the orders from his handlers that whispered in the silence. Sometimes the words of Zola, his scientists. 

Bucky fucking hated scientists these days. 

The unit that had been captured behind enemy lines, and Bucky, along with Dum Dum Dugan and Gabe Jones were forced to the weapons factory along with others who had been captured. The thing Becca had been most worried about, he had been most worried about… Bucky did his best to keep track of where he was going, the path, anything, but his head was swimming. 

At some point, they arrived, and they were shoved into a cold room, each captured soldier to be examined and processed. When it was his turn, Bucky was unceremoniously pushed into the center of the room, stripped for the scientists to examine, to determine who was to go work and who was to go behind the closed doors, never to be seen again. 

It was the chuckle that sent the shiver down his spine as opposed to the coldness of the room. 

“How interesting… What have we here, Juden? You played a gamble, proved as sneaky as the rest of your kind and now you are my rat.”

Eyes blazing, Bucky growled and lunged forward only to be beaten down with what felt like an electrified baton by someone he would later learn was named Lohmer. 

“Yes, yes. Let me see your hatred. That fire. You think you are strong…” Struggling for breath, Bucky could only glare up through the pain as the scientist who was speaking came over to him, spitting at him, only to feel the electric current once more run through his body, “Oh, you will be fun to break, to become my lab rat. Make no mistake, you won’t survive this, but your contribution to the great cause will be appreciated.” Pulled up, Bucky was allowed to redress and join the others in a cell until they were all put to work. But it was clear as the days went on that he, along with certain others, were targeted by the guards for punishment. Food that wasn’t quite right. More demanding positions. Beatings. Bucky did what he could to keep track of everything, as if he might get out. But it was clear that those who were sent behind the doors, the doors the scientist promised he’d be behind, never came out. 

The worse it got, the more he struggled. The beatings were worse, he grew weaker. The others in the cell would fight, but they also bonded. Time lost meaning. So when Bucky was finally brought back and strapped to the table, he fought as best he could even as he’d been weakened by whatever food he’d been given and the constant cold and the beatings. 

“We meet again… let’s begin, shall we?”If Bucky thought it was bad before, it had just gotten so much worse. 

It was bad enough to have his mind and identity wiped, to be so scrambled he didn’t know who he was. To lose that foundational core of who he was. But to become a weapon for the group who sought to destroy his people like so many before, to kill them and erase them…. It made Bucky’s blood boil. And the anger that almost never went away with that. Kochava would jump on his lap whenever the anger was at a danger point, calm him but it was so much. It hurt so much. And there was never going to be anything he could do to atone. It wasn’t him but did that matter?

Every time a part of him came through, he was strapped down again, scrambled, so there was nothing left. They tracked him. His vitals. How many times now had Bucky tried to scratch and dig those out? Each time he thought he had gotten the last of them, of the tracking devices, the paranoid part of his brain said there was more. But no one had used them to search for him, so they had to be out… right?

It was only a few weeks after the events in Sokovia when Bucharest had its own Pride Parade. Nothing like that in New York, but apparently it had gotten over double the people this year than the previous year (over 1,000 people as opposed to 400). Bucky of course wasn’t going to go. He kept a low profile. But it was nice to see all the same. 

At the same time, while it didn’t trigger a memory per se, it did make something fall into place. Again, one of those things where he didn’t have the words necessarily back in the 30s and 40s that he had now (even as he was still wrapping his mind around it all and figuring out what worked best for him). Admittedly, he hadn’t really looked into sexuality while in New York and he likely wouldn’t while here as it didn’t seem pertinent when one was in hiding. But it was still a realization all the same. 

He had always known that having sex with a woman was not something that had any interest for him. Flirting and charming was just an act and what was expected to keep suspicion off of him. So he’d gone to the gay bathhouses whenever that mask of masculinity had been overbearing. The exploration and experimentation, learning what he liked and didn’t. Even in the heat and steam of the bathhouses, Bucky on his knees for someone, or using his hands on someone, he responded to the physical stimuli and enjoyed it, but just seeing someone? It never did anything.

Until Steve showed up in the pub in that damn suit, when Bucky’s mind was still out of sorts and all attempts to keep the barrier in place that he could only love him as a friend or brother were well and truly shattered. Because there was that connection and deep bond the two had always had. And dammit if Bucky hadn’t wanted that man to jump him there and then, despite the law. Wanted to be with him and screw what society said. No one had ever made Bucky feel the way Steve did. 

Steve eventually had said that he had never really thought about his own sexuality. Women never did anything for him, and who would want some scrawny guy anyway? He had just been waiting for the right person. Then things had clicked that night in the pub as well for him and that was all there was to it. There were appearances to be had, of course, but the two knew the truth and wasn’t that the important thing?

Steve had made his pitch for the Howling Commandos, and of course, despite it all, Bucky had agreed. Where Steve went, Bucky followed. It had always been that way, from the very beginning. It might not have seemed that way but that didn’t change the fact that it always had been. Someone had to have his back. And because Bucky had had way too many drinks by that point, trying to drown the crushing realization that he could never walk back from, he had let slip just a bit of his thoughts. His feelings. As if that declaration to follow Steve hadn’t been a declaration in and of itself. So leaning forward so only the super soldier could hear, Bucky spoke almost conspiratorially, flirting, charming. 

“You’re keeping the outfit, right?” And then leaned back with a quick once over of his best friend, because that had been smooth. No it hadn’t. Bucky, for all the suave bravado he was putting on, was still a mess from what HYDRA had done to him at Azzano. And if Steve clearly thought he was messing with him, thinking he meant the Captain America one and not what he was wearing at the moment.

“You know what, it’s kind of growing on me.”

Then a hush seemed to come over the pub as the agent walked in, so of course both stood up as she walked to where they had been sitting.

“Captain.”“Agent Carter.”

Bucky had to give her taste in the dress she wore. It was very eye-catching and he wouldn’t mind wearing something similar.

“Ma’am.” He received the briefest of acknowledgement before she turned her attention back to Steve. Yeah. That was clearly a thing.

“Howard has some equipment he would like for you to try. Tomorrow morning?” 

“Sounds good.”

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty.” With the tension between the two (how else was there to read it?) Bucky just put on the charm, the facade, that was always there, that was expected of him. 

“You don’t like music?” 

“I do, actually. I might, even, when this is all over, go dancing.” And yet she kept her attention on Steve, not even paying attention to him. Which fine. Not like he could blame her, she was seeing him the way Bucky always had. Okay, time to try harder. If only to prove to himself that he wasn't broken like Zola had promised to do to him. 

“Then what are we waiting for?” 

“The right partner. Nine sharp, Captain.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll be there.” 

Watching as Peggy walked away, there was only one thing that came to mind, one dangerous thing clawing at his mind that he had always avoided being. 

“I’m invisible,” To be invisible made it easier to be disappeared by people who wanted you gone. So Bucky had always been the top of his class, best at athletics, the charmer even when he never actually did anything, it was a well honed mask to protect him and it was shattered, “I’m turning into you.” Not the nicest thing to say but he was supposed to be messing with Steve, the same back and forth they always had and he couldn’t let him see the truth, “This is a horrible dream.” 

“Don’t take it so hard. Maybe she has a friend.” As Steve patted his shoulder, it was clear he had seemed to buy it. At least in that moment, which was what Bucky had wanted. Yet it still stung, so he just shook his head.

“I’m heading up for the night. Try not to get into too much trouble without me.”

Leaving the pub, Bucky headed up to where the group had been put up for their leave, showering to get a hold of himself. He knew this was how it was going to be, so he just had to pull himself together. This was why that barrier had existed in the first place. It was while he’d been toweling off after putting pajama pants on that he heard the knock at his door. And who was there but Steve. “Everything okay?” “Yeah… Can I come in?” As if Bucky would turn Steve away, he just stepped aside to let his now taller best friend in (would that ever stop being weird?). He looked… well he didn’t look drunk but like he’d been thinking over things. 

“I just want you to know, you aren’t invisible, and that I see you. The real you.” Just what was Steve on? The whole point was for him to think that he had been messing around with him like he always did. He hadn’t needed to read anything more into that. It was dangerous for him to do that.

“O…kay….” But suddenly the blond man was in his space and kissing him and he was kissing him back and nothing was making sense but everything was falling into place the way it always should have been. 

Spring turned into summer and summer turned into fall and once again it was Rosh Hashanah and once again the idea of casting tashlich seemed pointless. Because even as his memories were coming more and more, the missions, who he had been, there was still no way to make amends, there was still no way to make it right. He couldn’t even trust his own mind after all. He had found more of himself, not so much a complete balance - that could never come - but he knew who he was. Had his foundation, for there were days when he forgot all over again but the traditions remained and the memories came back. He could be more true to himself in the safety of the apartment for as long as he remained hidden. 

Bucky was eating an apple when he noticed his reflection, he had tried some makeup this time along with the skirt and blouse, hair styled, which just led to his mind drifting.

It was another stolen moment in the midst of war, doing what they could to be together and just being the same as they always had. It turned out, nothing had really changed in that regard and why should it? 

“You know, get me into a USO outfit, some Victory Red lipstick, then if someone asks you, you can just say you lost your virginity during the USO tour.” “Oh yeah?” There’s amusement in Steve’s eyes at that and Bucky is keeping the tone light even though there’s a part of him that wishes Steve knew that he wasn't actually joking. Maybe about the specific outfit, but the idea in general? To let him see that part of him?

“Yeah. I bet my legs would look amazing.” “You know? I can see it.” There’s laughter in Steve’s voice but just for a moment, Bucky lets himself imagine a time and place where he can show that part of himself to him. After the war. Where it isn’t him just joking around. Or Steve joking and Bucky hiding the truth behind a joke.

Well, Steve was never going to get to see that part of him. Like the rest of the world, he saw him as the Winter Soldier. Bucky had known from the beginning that was who he would always be now. No matter what he did, even if there were some way to atone, in the end, he had killed too many, done too much…. Steve was hunting down the Winter Soldier, so even if Bucky could trust his mind to be around Steve without the risk of hurting him again - god how could he have hurt Steve? - It was too late for them. 

The memories continued to flesh out. To become etched in Bucky’s soul over the foundation of his culture, his traditions, that grounding force that had brought him out of the Potomac River. There were memories he couldn’t tell if they were real or not, and there was no one there to tell him one way or the other. There was no way to tell, really, how long he had been out of hibernation for HYDRA either. If he weren’t on a mission, he’d been put into hibernation. 

So Bucky continued the tenuous life he had made for himself in Bucharest, always waiting for the other shoe to drop. He had left New York because it had been dangerous looking for answers, yet the memories had come anyway. He had known that he would always need to be ready for the worst to come and it was coming on to two years of being in the same location. Tensions hadn’t eased since the previous year and Sokovia either. No. Bucky followed the news. The fact that so many world governments were on the same page, meeting together. 

It was a recipe for disaster. 

Which was why it came as no surprise when Bucky was out getting food for the week when he felt eyes on him then that someone disappeared. Going to the newstand, he saw the news from Austria. He had apparently attacked the signing of the Sokovia Accords, killing people.

Except…. He hadn’t done that. Even with waking up at times not knowing who or where he was, he hadn’t blacked out long enough for that to be possible. Which meant it was time to leave. So much for getting the rest of his food. Bucky quickly headed to his apartment, mind going over what was needed. Well, nothing. He kept almost nothing there, just the necessities, he had his go bag still ready to go, and  he could only hope someone else would take up the cause of the stray cats abandoned to the streets. 

What he wasn't expecting (but probably should have) was to see Captain America standing in his apartment. And if he was there, others would be there soon as well. 

You’re. My. Mission.

Then finish it, cuz I’m with you to the end of the line. 

He hadn’t heard him come in yet, too engrossed in what he was reading. Which meant he had found his journal of important dates, of memories that he was trying to keep track of given there was no linear fashion to how they happened or way to tell at times. 

Thank you, Buck, but I can get by on my own. 

The thing is, you don’t have to. I’m with you to the end of the line, pal. 

“Understood.”

Captain America was talking to someone but finally seemed to realize he wasn’t alone in the apartment, and just as Bucky assumed, one of his journals of memories was in his hand as he turned to face him. 

“You know me?”

You ready to follow Captain America into the jaws of death?Hell, no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight? I’m following him.

“You’re Steve.”

#catws10 #bucky barnes #steve rogers #steve x bucky #stucky #jewish bucky barnes

[late-to-the-party-81]

The best laid plans...

AN: This silly little fic was written for @buckybarnesbingo Square C5: A picture of Bucky waiting against a wall, holding a gun. I hope you enjoy the sass and crack. Thanks to @drabbles-mc for cheerleading and beta-ing

Dividers by @firefly-graphics. Moodboard by me, with robot image by Rafael Amarante 

Master list| BBB Master list

Summary: Bucky and Nat had a date night planned, but you know what’s said about best laid plans?

Relationships: Established Bucky x Nat, Established Sam x Steve, Cap Quartet friendship.

Word Count: 2.4k

CW: Crack, Sass, Snark, Flirting, Innuendo, Swearing, Robots being smashed, a bad-guy getting his come-uppance, Sam and Steve are like a pair of horny teenagers, Bucky is done, Nat is always right.

Bucky came to a halt a few feet from the bunker entrance, his back pressed to the smooth, grey concrete with his assault rifle held in his right hand. Snowflakes swirled around him.  

This was not how he’d intended spending his Friday, but here he was. The bad-guys never had any respect for his plans, the bastards. Or rather his and Nat’s plans. Not that they’d had anything major organised, just a quiet night in, the pair of them, the cat’s, a box set, some wine and some blini’s. Maybe a little ‘something-something’ later on, if he played his cards right.

But, here he was, in the freezing cold - and god-knows he hated the cold for many legitimate reasons - waiting for the signal from Nat, before the pair of them stormed in to save Sam and Steve from whatever-the-fuck mess the pair of them had managed to get themselves in to. If Bucky recalled the briefing notes he’d skimmed over on the way here, it was robots of some sort. Which was better than aliens, and a one hundred percent improvement on wizards. That Strange guy gave him the willies, despite Tony’s assurance that his cough friend was on their side. He still wasn’t sold on Howard’s son’s judgement, despite the years that had passed since the ‘Siberia Incident’.

Robots, though - he could handle those. To steal a line from Bruce, with robots he could “smash”, and not feel bad. Not that he felt bad when he punched aliens. Or wizards. But robots were like Nazi’s. Not sentient in Bucky’s humble opinion.

He did briefly wonder how Steve and Sam had managed to get themselves captured, but that knowledge would wait for later. They’d probably got distracted from the mission because they were making out or something equally as stupid. They could at least keep the PDAs to a minimum in the field, like he and Nat did. Although he did get it - Steve could let himself be seen now, in a way he hadn’t been able to back in the day.  And Bucky wasn’t blind, Sam was an attractive man, even if he did act like a cocky dickhead about it ninety nine percent of the time.

“Stupid Steve and stupid Sam.” He hadn’t even realised he’d muttered under his breath until a slightly tinny voice sounded in his ear.

“Be nice, Yasha. They are our friends after all. Even if they did ruin our date night.”

Bucky’s lips twitched upwards at Nat’s admonishment. “Can you blame me, malyshka? I was looking forward to a night-in with my best girls. All cuddled up together, all cosy. Maybe a bit of kissing, a bit of…”

“Okay, cool it lover-boy. I don’t think Al and Liho would be appreciative of your kisses.”

Bucky’s smile broadened and he let a bit of ‘40’s’ into his voice. “Is that your way of saying that you would be?”

“I plead the fifth.” He could hear the smile in Nat’s voice. “Now, get ready. I’ve almost reached the East Entrance. We need to breach together.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, glad that Nat wouldn’t be able to see.

“Not my first time out, Natalia. Just because Steve likes to go in without a plan and Sam seems to have adopted his technique, doesn’t mean I’ve lost my sense of strategy. I’m ready on your mark. As always.”

“The way it should be. But James, don’t roll your eyes at me. You know how it annoys me when you’re passive aggressive. Now…breach!”

Bucky pushed away from the wall and kicked in the door. He rolled through the opening, coming to a halt on his knees, gun raised. 

There wasn’t anyone or anything there.

“No bogies here, Nat. You?”

“Nothing. It’s suspiciously quiet.”

Bucky rose to his feet and slung his rifle over his shoulder.

“I’ll work myself toward the centre and meet you there. First to find our disaster gays buys pizza.”

He heard Nat laugh over the comms, clear and unaffected. “You always make it so easy for me, kotenok.”

“Only because you’re easy for me.” Bucky couldn’t help but tease her. He could imagine the faint pink blush dusting her cheekbones about now. She was probably doing that cute nose wrinkle too.

“Bucky!” Nat hissed, but her tone didn’t hold any real censure.

“Okay, okay. I’m all business now. I promise. See you soon.”

Bucky pulled one of his knives from its sheath, gave it a cursory flip to check the balance, and then made his way toward the next door. If there was anything behind it, it would know Bucky was there - he hadn’t exactly been quiet when he’d come through the first door. He placed himself on the hinge side of the door, noting that this one opened towards him, and with a steadying breath, he pulled it open.

Immediately, laser blasts peppered the space Bucky would have been standing in if he’d opened the door like a normal person. He observed the rhythm of the shots for a few seconds, then rounded the door, his knife flying forward from his hand. There was a satisfying thunk, followed by a crash as the robot landed on the floor. Bucky walked towards the pile of metal, taking in its form as he pulled his knife from its ocular sensor. Why mad scientists had to mimic human biology by putting the CPU in the most obvious place constantly baffled him, but at least it made it easy.

He didn’t have long to ponder though. He heard a whirring noise and looked up to see four more robots bearing down on him. Sheathing his knife, Bucky unslung his rifle, holding it in his right hand. With his left he picked up the late robot to use as a shield. He felt the impact of the laser blasts, and peaked around the metal shell to aim his weapon. He squeezed the trigger, letting off three bullets at a time, and kept moving forward. One of the robots wouldn’t go down, so as Bucky approached it, he decided to use the one he was holding as a bludgeon. There was the screech of metal on metal, and the fizzing of wires as they broke, still sparking, then there was a pile of twisted steel on the floor. He opened his comms.

“Everything okay, sweetheart? I’ve had a few tin cans to deal with over here.”

“Doing fine, baby. Hang on…” Nat went silent for a moment, but Bucky knew it was just because she was concentrating. He heard the high-pitch whine of her Widow’s Bite deploying, followed by a hollow clang sound and then she was back. “How many have you taken out?”

Bucky looked around him.

“Five.”

“Ha! Six. I’m winning.”

“Malyshka, our competition isn’t about numbers, remember?” Bucky drawled, letting a small amount of condescension into his voice.

“Yours might not be, but mine is.” God, he loved this woman. She challenged him everyday and he couldn’t get enough.

“Always gotta be the winner, huh?”

“No ‘gotta’ about it. Just ‘am’, kitten.” He could see her smirk in his head. She was probably coyly twisting a lock of hair around her finger as she spoke as well. “Now, I gotta get into that next room.”

The comm line went quiet again and Bucky smiled to himself as he thought about all the ways he was gonna worship her when they got home. After he’d torn a strip off Steve and Sam for being idiots. However, he had to find them first.

He wasn’t surprised to discover more robots as he entered the next area of the bunker. They weren’t too difficult to deal with, especially considering how frustrated Bucky was feeling. A couple of laser shots grazed his jacket, the burning leather smell filling his nose unpleasantly. A replacement jacket was definitely coming out of Steve’s pocket.

Six more robots lay in a sparking, dented mess on the floor, but he just walked around them, moving forward. It was only a minute until he came upon a bulkhead door, the mechanism for opening it on his side. Bucky could also see that the door was dented, hit from the inside in what he assumed was an attempt to open it from the other side by someone exceedingly strong. It would take a lot to deform it like that.

“If you’re not behind this door, Steve”, Bucky muttered under his breath, “I’m gonna kill you.” He reshouldered his rifle and grabbed hold of the bulkhead wheel. It was tightly closed and the metal groaned under Bucky’s hands as he turned it. “Fuck Sam and fuck Steve, idiotic, stupid idiots.” He didn't know exactly what he was going to find when he got in there, but he wasn’t too worried. They might have some scrapes and bruises, at the worst be unconscious, but they were tough and no two-bit robot maker was going to get the best of them. Not for long anyway. 

The catch on the door fully opened and Bucky pulled it ajar. He slipped through but came to a dead halt at what he saw. This was definitely not what he expected to find. In fact, he was so taken aback that he didn’t notice the door swinging shut behind him, until he heard the clunk.

Sam and Steve leapt apart. Steve’s short blond hair was sticking up all over the place, evidence of Sam’s fingers having been threaded through it. Both their lips were kiss swollen, and their chests were heaving. Steve pulled the shield across his lap. Sam just used his hands to cover his crotch.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes shut. “Really, guys? You get stuck in the lair of a mad robot inventor, so you just end up making out like teenagers?” Steve flushed, his ears going bright pink, but Sam just gave Bucky a grin.

“What can I say, man. Stevie boy can’t keep his hands off me, even when we’re in mortal danger.”

Steve shot Sam a glare. “It wasn’t like that. We tried to get out, but the doors were too thick, and glass didn’t want to break either.” Steve waved over to the far wall, which was half glass, and appeared to have some kind of observation room on the other side. There was a door in that wall too, as equally as dented as the one Bucky had come through, giving credence to Steve’s story that they’d at least attempted to get out before getting bored and starting to get handsy with each other. “We knew you’d come when we didn’t check in, so we were just waiting. But you’re here now.”

“Unfortunately, though,” Sam drawled, “Because you let that door shut behind you, we’re now all stuck.”

“As long as you two don’t start sucking face again.” Bucky made a gagging noise.

“No chance of that, Bucko. Don’t you know that cyborgs kill the mood,” Sam fired back.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and cocked his hip. “Nat doesn’t seem to think so.” He held up his left hand and wiggled his fingers, the vibranium plates clinking and servos whirring. “In fact she…”

“...Would most likely kill you for having this conversation.” Steve cut him off. “And speaking of Nat…”

Steve pointed into the observation room, where the door into it had burst open and a man in a white lab coat and goggles was staggering through it, a very angry Russian redhead sat atop his shoulders. Nat rained blows down onto the man's face before doing her patented twisty thing where she spun herself down and hurled the guy across the room by his neck. He crashed into a table which had various electronics and tools across it, and didn’t get up. Nat, of course, landed on her feet and tossed her hair back. At that moment, Bucky didn’t think he could love her more.

Nat walked over to the control panel, a swagger in her steps. She peered down at it for a few moments and then pressed a button. The door to the side of the glass opened with a creak and Nat sauntered over and pushed it further open.

“I win, kotenok.” 

Bucky reached in a few long strides and, in an uncharacteristic display of public affection, wrapped an arm around her waist to pull her close.

“How do you figure that, sweetheart? I was obviously here first, and we haven’t done the final count of robots dispatched.” He smiled down at her and brushed a stray lock of hair back from her face.

“But I took out him,” she jerked her head in the direction of the felled robot creator, “and you got yourself trapped in with Dumb and Dumber over there. I think that means I can rightly claim the win.”

Somewhere behind them, Sam shouted out “Hey!” but both Bucky and Nat ignored him.

“You think, do you? I’m not sure I agree.” Bucky’s lips twisted up into an amused smile and Nat reached up and bopped her finger against the tip of his nose.

“Of course you don’t agree. You’re always wrong, Yasha. Now, let’s get home and you and I can try and salvage the rest of date night. You owe me a pizza.” She slipped effortlessly from his hold and spun away. Bucky looked over his shoulder at Steve and Sam and shrugged his shoulders, as if to say ‘what are you gonna do?’ and followed in her wake, picking up their unconscious captive and throwing him over his shoulder on the way.

They got outside and as they neared the two jets Bucky looked over at Nat, silent communication passing between them. She jogged towards the jet they’d arrived in for their rescue mission and Bucky peeled off toward the one that Sam and Steve had used. He jogged up the ramp ahead of his friends, and as he reached the top he pressed the ramp close button and dumped the robot maker on the floor.

“Um, Buck… What are you doing?” Steve called out to him through the narrowing gap. Bucky grinned back. “It’s only a two hour flight back to the compound. Surely you can wrap your legs around your boyfriend for that long.” He shot a wink at their outraged faces as the ramp closed and then whistled to himself as he made his way to the cockpit. 

Childish? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely.

Bucky sat down in the pilot’s seat, put the headphones on and switched to his and Nat’s private comms channel as he started the jet up.

“So, malyshka, what do you want on your pizza?”

Tag list: @km-ffluv @christywrites @alexakeyloveloki @doasyoudesireandlive

#winterwidow #bucky x natasha #buckynat #crack #late writes #samsteve #cap quartet

[valkyrieandstrangeridingaragorn]

At the end of the day Peggy is a far more comfortable character for Marvel and Disney than Steve ever was.

They wrote him as a fierce socialist who has no problem with fighting the system, taking down Shield, defying the government and having a speech in his movies about civil rights and freedom, speaking of politicians having agendas and standing up to the UN.

But when it comes to Peggy... she IS the system. She took an active part in Operation Paperclip, she worked alongside Zola, she was head of Shield for decades and she never fought against the system at all, quite the opposite. Do we ever hear what she thinks of civil rights? Nope, not a damn word. For all we know she's perfectly happy as long as she keeps power to herself (in the case of Captain Carter) or enough privilege to do whatever she wants.

It's never about helping the little guy, it's all about her and her wants.

If Steve had avoided the plane crash and had returned to base, the very moment anyone implied they should pardon a bunch of nazis and hire them to work with them he would have stopped that immediately - he would have never forgiven Peggy or Howard for getting Zola out of jail, especially after what he did to Bucky (and many other soldiers he must have experimented on as well).

You know that scene in TWS where Steve tells Fury not only they're fighting Hydra but they're taking down Shield too? Well, he would have done something similar here - if the options are hire nazis or destroy the SSR he would have done the latter.

And so they're not content with just claiming she's his one and only true love, they have to portray her as a "female Steve" to the point of giving her his catchphrase? They were so uncomfortable with who Steve was that in their desperation they replaced him with her, they sent him back to effectively get rid of him and brought her to the present fully expecting the audience to get behind her like we had done with him but that's quite simply never gonna happen. She's nothing like Steve and she will never be.

#anti peggy carter

[onelungmcclung]

MotA pt eight:

combat pilots are the glamour boys of piloting tbh (I like/am critical of this show's sprawling ambition but I'd take a BoB style miniseries just following the 332nd / 477th)

feeling a little bit back to square one in that suddenly there's a whole new bunch of guys in uniforms and masks and I'm supposed to be able to tell them apart and it took me about 4 episodes to keep track of the 100th (about 7 to keep track of easy company, but I was new to the genre back then)

(my co-watchers and I have a whatsapp group called "i moustache you a question" which is purely for helping one another tell MotA characters apart)

I don't want to be mean but I do not give a skerrick of a fuck about bucky's emotional problems, especially when that problem is boredom

"well I could cope with being DEAD" is mildly endearing

just think how much of this narration you could cut out and everything would be fine, better even

it's good to see a little bit more of capt westgate's working relationships

croz that is what happens when you disobey kidd's direct order, your brain deactivates

did u know christopher lakewood (col jeffrey) is also an accent coach

I thought maybe buck and bucky's fight might be some piece of misdirection theatre in aid of an escape plan but no, bucky is just that annoying. punch him again.

luv the tuskegee airmen already because nobody's narrating over their scenes. see how well this works

"I helped plan d-day and then slept through it" is a great story for the grandkids. I'm being flippant but also: it kind of is

croz/rosie/kidd ot3. I'm right. think it over. thank me later. (platonically, but ydy. maybe I'll decide I'm flexible)

if I were more heterosexual I would fall for macon reeling off a list of precise statistics that he worked out earlier when he had a free five minutes

"we perhaps might not blend into nazi germany?" is seditious talk apparently

I'm always a bit lost when the 100th point to one another through their plane windows and say things like "look! there's blakely!" because I simply cannot make out any distinguishing features. the tuskegee planes are great though, much more distinctive

Second Smug Nazi is a slightly more charismatic actor imo

the writers have got themselves into that "this time period was racist but Our Heroes cannot be racist" dilemma so, as per the classic dodge, some relatively minor character gets to be the Only Racist. sorry hambone. you are very blond, after all. (sometimes it's "this time period was homophobic" or "this time period was misogynistic" but the solution remains the same)

I quite like alex and buck's interactions, despite not having been terribly invested in buck so far. good chemistry? just the novelty of a new character relationship? anyway it helps when butler and turner get scenes with other people for a change. one of the best tools for character development is giving them multiple relationships; the different commonalities/tensions/chemistry are v revealing

I am not immune to a Secret Plot Montage

tell me more about macon and demarco, is this a budding friendship (don't want to overegg a "standing next to each other" moment but I'm starved for supporting character development and I'm finally giving up on that significantly changing)

I think westgate is probably right to call things off with crosby sooner rather than later (I always support hbo war ladies when they dump guys #feminism)

yeah I do quite like rosie, he's a good person/leader/pilot. very obviously not (as winters described guarnere and speirs) a natural killer, but that's not his job and he is a natural pilot and therefore cannot bring himself to leave the other guys before the war is over

I think I have done a relatively good job of keeping track of the influx of new characters. don't remember everyone's names yet (alex! macon! daniels!) but I'm doing better on faces

hope demarco and meatball get to reunite next ep

#masters of the air #mota spoilers #txt

[beautifulbuckys]

Rumor Has It (40′s!Bucky Barnes x Reader)

FIC PINTEREST BOARD

Summary: As a local bartender, you’d heard a thing or two about James Barnes. 

Warnings: Nazi mention, war mentions, a little bit of language

A/N: AHHHH tiktok gave me some of this dialogue and I nEEDED to write with it!

You’d heard about James Barnes.

He was a legend in your line of work. Rumor had it that he’d been to every lounge in Brooklyn. Many bartenders had spoken of serving him and the lady he’d selected for the evening. A lounge was his go-to date spot. We played music, served drinks, and had a pleasant atmosphere. The lounges in the area were always dark and easy to hide in. He’s courted a lot of different women. God forbid a past girl catches him with his newest woman. It hasn’t happened yet, so you’ve heard. 

However, you have never met him. He has yet to stop by your lounge. He has yet to bring a date. You can’t blame him, your location was on the edge of town and kind of hard to get to. The narrow, unlit roads were daunting to those looking for a good time. A dark alleyway didn’t exactly scream ‘come visit!’. 

The fact that he had been in the army didn’t exactly help. His long stint of courting a randomized girl every night got interrupted when America involved itself in the war. He was quickly shipped off, practically disappearing. His existence was ghost-like. Many mentioned him, both men and women alike. The gentlemen he’d done laboring with during long, grueling New York summers were speaking of him like an old friend. His name seemed like a memory on some of the female bar-goer’s lips. It seemed like he had never left. Even though you had never met him, all the stories you’d heard made it seem like you did. Many customers you met had known him. Simply, it became obvious he befriended a lot of people in the area. Nobody you’d met had something negative to say about the man. Since he left for war, many who stayed behind gained more respect for him. 

Rumor has it he’s back. 

Tuesday afternoon you were working a shift for a sick bartender when someone uttered interesting words. 

“Bucky and Steve are back, they’re going on some victory tour or something. I heard Rogers got handsome while overseas, apparently, all the women in Europe have been swooning. My husband wrote me all about it!” A young woman sitting across the bar whisper-yelled. She couldn’t disguise her excitement for the news. However, it was hard to tell what she was more excited about, whether James and Steve are home or her husband had sent a letter. 

You’d seen pictures of James. You could admit, he was an attractive man. You totally understood why he had women at his feet left and right. Usually, though, that meant they had an ego. You already dealt with that during your shifts at the lounge. You didn’t have time to entertain a cocky man that found himself to be king of the world. It just wasn’t in the cards. 

As the afternoon melted into the evening, the lounge became a bit busier. Typically, Friday through Sunday was the busy days. Every now and again, it would pick up a little during the weekdays. However, this wasn’t a “picking up on a Tuesday” kind of busy. Something was going on, you thought. And then it all made sense.

James Barnes had waltzed into the creaky wooden door. He was wearing his brown Army uniform. A tan cap covered his brown hair, which has gotten a little longer since the most recent picture you’d seen. He also looked tired, the bottom of his eyes had sunken in and his eyelids were now permanently half-lidded. He didn’t look an ounce less handsome, though. 

The moment he walked through the door, the volume of the lounge increased dramatically. Every single customer that could stand on their own two feet was loudly welcoming the solider home. James received many pats on the back from men playing billiards; who seemed to respect him for her service. He also had been on the receiving end of many hugs from women old to young. His grateful smile never faltered. He spoke to everyone that gave him the time of day. Never once did he seem annoyed or appalled at the sudden attention. All eyes were on him. Yet, he never shied away. He seemed like the same man you’d heard stories about.

Once he could get away from the welcome wagon, he dragged his feet towards the bar. The farther he got away from the crowd, the more his smile fell. If he was an actor, that would’ve been an award-winning performance. 

“Sergeant Barnes, you’re shorter than I anticipated,” You said once he reached the bartop. Now that he was closer, you noticed the small cuts and scabs littered his face. The bridge of his nose housed a nasty gash, which was obvious from a puffy scar that now replaced it.

 His tired eyes locked with yours, smiling at you. “That’s no way to welcome home a soldier,” His Brooklynn accent came poking through. It was thick, something that you’d mock to your friends the next time you see them.

“I’m afraid we’ve never met,” 

“I’d remember if we did. I’d never forget a face like that,”

“Is that what you say to all the girls?” His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. You’d rendered the quippy James Barnes speechless. Not many can say that based on the tales you’d heard. From the stories, you could tell he was part of the talkative bunch. He had a reputation to talk anyone’s ear off if he was given the chance. “What can I get you, James?”

He chuckled, sitting at a barstool. “Please, call my Bucky,” 

“That’s not what I asked you,” 

“Bourbon,” 

You smile, “You like your gums feeling tingly?” You proceeded to carefully pour him some of the house bourbon, choosing to pour it into a short glass. It was wider than a shot glass, but a similar height. It was perfect for his larger hands to hold. He wouldn’t be able to drop it unless he did so purposefully. 

Bucky took the glass as you slid it across the counter and instantly took a sip. After swallowing, he exhaled loudly. “You know, you’re the first person to not kiss my ass since getting home,”

“That’s not very gentleman-like language, Barnes,” 

“Well I am a soldier, never claimed to have the mouth of an angel,” 

You decided to leave him alone for a moment, choosing to tend to the other customers at the bar. You’d poured a few refills of water or whiskey, and made a few martinis. Every now and again, you’d steal a glance at James. He sat on his barstool in his lonesome. In fact, it’s the first time you’ve ever heard nor seen the man alone in a place like this. He always brought a date. His elbows laid on the stained bartop, leaning into his arms. He seemed slightly tired, more reserved than the James you’d always heard of. Besides his arrival, you hadn’t seen him speak to anyone. A few people tried to spark some conversation. Their attempts always consisted of questions about the war or his friend Steve Rogers. 

You’d heard rumors about Steve Rogers too. 

Steve and James were a package plan. You couldn’t get one without also getting the other. Since they were young, they’d been attached at the hip. Steve had a dream of joining the army when the war began. His father was a soldier, and he wanted nothing more than to follow in those footsteps. However, he was skinny and sick. He got denied time and time again. When Bucky left, it was difficult for him. Not soon after, Steve was getting escorted by military officials around the city of New York. Many figured he finally got caught lying on his enlistment forms. Then one day, he’s in the paper 150 pounds heavier and with more muscle than you had seen in your entire life. 

And now the man is a war hero. He’s a symbol of an American victory. 

And James Barnes is still just James Barnes. Suddenly the outgoing, all eyes on him, ladies man was cowering behind the shadow of his best friend. Since they got home, he’d been avoiding all questions about Steve. Avoiding any Captain America-related questions. 

“Pretty damn quiet over here, Barnes,” You mutter, leaning onto the bartop. He flashes a small smile your way, sitting up at your presence. 

“Not much people want to talk about besides killing nazis. I’m kind of tired of acting like some hero, though. I’m not this high and mighty guy everyone acts like I am. The only difference between me and them is the uniform. I’m no hero, I’m just a man in a tan uniform acting like something I’m not,” Bucky spoke quietly, staring at his hands that were folded in front of him. His small smile had turned into a sad one, reflecting his tone of voice. 

“Incredibly untrue, Sargent. See Tommy over there? The one with the red billiards stick. His Momma forced him to enlist. He lied on his forms and said he had asthma and a past with pneumonia so he wouldn't get through. Then he went back and told his Momma they rejected him so he couldn’t fight. He really just wanted to stay behind and keep smokin’ those damn cigars with his pals,” The story you told was true. It was again, just a rumor you’d heard, but once you served his sister a few too many imported wine glasses and she got to talking. By 10 p.m you knew all the family’s deepest darkest secrets. You’d never tell them, though. Unless, of course, it was to cheer up a handsome pouty soldier on a Tuesday night. 

“Is that true?”

“Truer than the sky being blue,” You held out your pinky to the man, suggesting a pinky promise. He held out his finger with a smile, wrapping his around yours enthusiastically. “There is a difference between you and him. He didn’t want to fight because he was selfish. You fought and saved a hell of a lot of people in the process. You have a good heart, James. Don’t undervalue yourself,” 

His sad smile was long gone, a simple memory. His laugh replaced his once somber, hushed voice. 

“You feel like an old friend,” 

“A lot of people say that when I give them booze,” You manage to laugh. He laughs right along with you. When he laughs, his eyebrows raise up and cause some wrinkles on his forehead. His hairline seems to raise up along with his brows which is entertaining to watch. 

He smiles, “Not like that. I feel like I’ve known you. I know I’ve never met you as I said, I’d never forget a face like that. You just seem so familiar. Like I’ve known you for a lifetime and then some,” 

“Are you calling me old, Barnes?”

“I’d never dare to talk about a beautiful dames age!” James chuckled at your insinuation. He knew you were joking, it was obvious that it was just how you were. He could tell you had thick skin by the banter you kept up. 

“With all this talk about my looks, I’m starting to think I’m the next on the  ‘girl’s I’d like to take dancing’ list,” You joked. Without him even asking, you decided to pour him more of his drink. Usually, you’d have to charge for a refill. Hell, you forgot to even charge him for the first drink. Yet, he’s a soldier returning home. If your manager gave you hell for it, you’d explain the special circumstance. 

All the rumors you’d heard of this man seemed to be drifting away. You’d been told gossip; not truths. This man wasn’t just some womanizer with no regard for feelings. James Barnes was far from a man that didn’t believe love existed, only beauty. James Barnes wanted to be loved. He didn’t want to be held on a pedestal for all to worship and speak about. He wanted his flaws to be just as cherished as his perfections. 

“I can add you to the list if you’d like. You would be the only occupant and I’m willing to take you dancing as soon as possible,” 

“See you tomorrow at 6?” You took the bait. The more you two talked, the more interested in him you became. He bantered back and forth with you and didn’t get offended at your silly comments. He never once made an offensive comment towards you, which was something you were used to as a bartender. And it would be a crime not to take note of his beautiful eyes and charming smile. 

He smiled.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,”

And to think, a few rumors was the start of this all.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #40's bucky #40's!Bucky Barnes x Reader #40's!Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers #captian america #marvel #Marvel Studios #marvel cinematic universe #marvel fanfic #marvel masterlist #fanfiction #fan fiction #fanfic #fan fic

[amarriageoftrueminds]

If Endgame Steve is so out of character because he's Not Really Steve (Skrull, android copy, clone, etc) perhaps Sharon Carter in tFatWS has turned to confusing villainy for no discernable reason because she's not actually Sharon, but rather Peggy possessing her niece?

If Sharon was being possessed by Peggy they wouldn't be admitting she's a villain.

They'd be Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Waying her, giving her Sam's title, putting her in all the promo (where is Sam? who cares he's not feige's blorbo!) and inventing time travel to make sure that the most attractive Ken can date her.

(Crucially, Sharon is actually competent as a spy, and temperamentally suited to that job, which Peggy is not. So if Peggy was possessing Sharon, to us she'd appear to suddenly have picked up the idiot ball, and yet still be getting credited for showing a level of competence she does not, in fact, show.)

Also: Sharon in the MCU hasn't ever really not been a villain?

Like she wasn't included in the 'people we can trust to help bring down Nazis' group. (After being fine with dressing up as a modern version of Steve's Dead Mum to spy on/honeytrap him, which to be fair is her job but also a textbook example of why Steve doesn't date spies like Nat.)

She stayed in SHIELD even when they accused Steve of a crime she knew damn well he could not have committed, because she was right there when it happened. And she stayed in as part of the team while they were hunting Steve down and sending fighter jets and missiles and Strike teams after him.

(Contrast: Natasha did the opposite of all this. What exactly was stopping Sharon doing the right thing, too? Family Tradition?)

She only eventually did the right thing (stopping even more missiles being dropped) once Rumlow was pointing guns at actually-courageous-and-brave unarmed tech-dude's head (ed: whose name is apparently Cameron Klein!) right in front of her. And once it was spelled out (by the innocent guy she knows is innocent but didn't object to SHIELD hunting down or do anything to stop that) that millions would die if Insight launched.

But, crucially, her 'help' didn't go as far as actually killing Rumlow, which left him free to almost kill Sam (and, later, in CW) Steve -- and all those other innocent people caught in his bomb in Lagos.

(If Sharon had just done the right thing properly... That rotten apple really doesn't fall far huh...)

And then she immediately went to work for the CIA.

(Contrast: Nat who stuck by Steve, Maria who went to work for Stark).

In CACW Sharon gave Steve a headsup about Bucky's whereabouts and retrieved Steve's shield and Sam's 'bird costume' in Berlin.

...But that was only necessary because her people the CIA took that stuff in the first place. And she even argued in favour of that!

(Which as Sam said "that's cold." Also, weirdly off with Sam in that scene?? I know Carters don't waste manners on people they're not desperate to get fucked by, but still...)

Any good she did was, arguably, only possible because she had voluntarily joined the bad guys -- as a legit agent, not as a double agent -- and was still making up for the fact that she wronged Steve et al in CATWS.

Then, that awkward as hell kiss.

Like a creep, she expected a physical sexual reward from Steve for helping out (fun fact, you can see the inverted non-creepy version of this with Thor and Valkyrie in Ragnarok!)

And agreed with Steve that he took too long to deliver (late to being creeped on? having his personal space violated? Steve bb this is making me sad.)

Another bad inherited family trait I guess...

(In the original cut, Sharon & Steve had had a drink together after the funeral / right before all this went down, which adds crucial context to the moment which is sadly not canon. 😕

However... Even with that factored in: expecting a kiss from a guy you've been on a semi date-ish with, hours and hours earlier... when he clearly doesn't want to kiss now, off his own bat (clearly isn't thinking of it, and if he'd wanted to kiss her, could've done so earlier, when they were still in a romantic-ish context?) 😬

Still kinda creepy...)

So when white woman for the first time in her life encountered ✨A Consequence✨ she turned to a life of organised crime in Indonesia (...something kinda icky about that too, just me? a bit Colonialismy?) but still whined about- I dunno, having to live in a mansion?? 🤷‍♀️

So villainy doesn't seem that OOC to me.

From state-sanctioned, to outcast, back to state-sanctioned. She was briefly one of the (bad-guys-doing-human-experiments) outside the system... but now she has returned to being one of the (bad-guys-doing-human-experiments) from inside the system (more continuing the Carter family tradition). By breaking bad she's really just re-establishing her original status quo.

If anything it's unusually consistent characterisation, coming from a DisneyProduct!

(Although, to be fair, we all know they're only doing it so they can villain-turn Sharon in the comics... so that they can shove Hyacinth Bucket: Agent GropyMcNaziCollaborator in her place, since Sharon was comics-Steve's big love interest for decades; he actually ditched Peggy for her.)

ps. if this family had one good member it's because they foolishly married in.

#release the cracken #antipeggy #antisharon #anticarters #antisteggy #cynthia glass #p*ggy meta #mcu critical #steggy is hydra trash party #toAyourQ #dat's me #hey nonny #meta #mcu meta #antiendgame #endgame steve is a skrull #mcu #the key difference is now they're actually writing her as a villain ON PURPOSE #which is why sharon appears to have suddenly become more interesting and fleshed-out #they're still not calling her out on (continuing the family's other grand tradition) being a creep tho 😕 #sidenote: my personal fave fan theory about eg steve is that he's loki (who didn't die) #somethingsomething endgame is My Immortal/Cursed Child somethingsomething #atwell wouldn't take on a sharon role if it wouldn't involve creeping on cevans as well so... #tagging this antisharon just so sharon stans can filter it #but really I am NOT anti 'women being written doing bad things / as villains' #so long as they're actually acknowledged as bad / it's being done ~on purpose~ #remember folks: REBLOG 🔁 / DON'T LIKE 🤍

[questionableratatouille00]

ɪ ᴀᴍ ʀᴇᴀʟ (ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ)

Pairing: Sambucky

Summary: Bucky’s past always seems to catch up to him. But Sam’s here to help.

Warnings: bees, bullets, flashbacks, PTSD.

Part two of this!

Bucky dried his wet hair before he readjusted the waistband of sweatpants. He’d just finished showering, and he enjoyed the feeling of being clean. Feeling dirty reminded him of times he didn’t like to recall. 

He pulled a red Henley over his head, opening the door to the upstairs bathroom. The sound of a shriek made all of his blood turn to ice.

It sounded like Cass. Bucky rushed down the stairs, his vibranium fist clenched tightly as he prepared to fight whatever intruder that had broken in.

“What? What is it?” Sam’s voice was panicked as he raced into the kitchen from the laundry room. 

“There’s a bee!” Cass shrieked, horrified by the buzzing insect. 

Bucky looked around the room, before finding the tiny culprit. 

“Cass, it’s fine. It’s alright, baby. It’s not gonna get’cha. Just hold the door open and it’ll fly out.” Sarah hummed from the sink as she loaded the dishwasher.

“It’s gonna sting me!” The young boy squealed in fear. 

Logically, Bucky could just reach out with his left hand and crush the damn thing. But it wasn’t about logic. He knew the lesson Sarah was trying to teach; that just because things scare you doesn’t mean they’re bad. Or something like that. Maybe it was something to do with killing things and how that was bad, but Bucky knew he wasn’t the best person to be teaching that. 

His memory wasn’t known for being the best, but he had faint memories of his own mother teaching a similar lesson. Something to do with school, maybe. 

Bucky looked around the room. Where had the damn bug gone?

Just then, something whizzed past his left ear. He gasped, the unexpected—yet somehow familiar—noise so close to his skull sending him into a short panic. 

He’d barely dodged the bullet. He pressed himself up against the wall of the freight car, feeling the metal against his fingers. He was shielded by some large box, either filled with supplies or something else that the Nazis needed.

He felt his lips tremble, but he bit down on his lower lip and tried his best to toughen up.

He’d been in the trenches, for fuck’s sake. He could feel the now warmed metal of his dog tags pressed against his chest under his jacket, proof and a reminder of what he’d done; where he’d been.

Steve. He needed to help Steve. Shit.

“Move! Get down!” He shouted, pushing Steve towards the ground, trying to shield him from the weird Nazi machinery.

“Bucky!” That wasn’t Steve’s voice. Steve..hadn’t said his name. Right? That wasn’t what happened.

Another voice said his name. This time, it was a woman’s voice. There wasn’t a woman on that damn train. Where was he again?

There were hands on him. Warm, gentle, hands. Firm hands. Steady hands. 

“Barnes. Barnes. Bucky.” The voice was back. 

Bucky sucked in a breath of air. His eyes were watering. He wiped at them with his right hand, his brows furrowing.

“You’re alright. C’mon, get up. You’re alright.” Sam’s voice was stern, but in a kind way. The way Bucky responded best to. 

Sam helped him stand upright, walking him through taking deep breaths. 

“Shit,” Bucky breathed when he came back to his senses. He didn’t feel bad about his use of foul language, considering Sarah had ushered the boys out of the room. 

For their safety, you monstrous fuck, a voice in the back of his mind spat. 

“She thought you wouldn’t want them then to see you have a flashback,” Sam murmured.“There’s nothing wrong about what happened, shit happens.”

“I’m sorry.” Bucky’s voice was choked up, and he cleared his throat. 

“Don’t be.” Sam told him. “I mean that. Shit happens,” he echoed his previous statement. 

“It shouldn’t. Not—not in your home.” Bucky’s voice was full of guilt, and Sam frowned. 

“Barnes. Shut up.” Bucky could feel the warmth in Sam’s tone, the look in his eye. So he complied. 

“The bee’s out.” Sam noted, sitting Bucky down at the kitchen table and getting a glass of water. He sets the glass down in front of Bucky. 

“It sounded like a bullet.” Bucky hummed, taking a sip of water.

Sam nodded, his arms comfortably crossed against his chest. “You wanna talk about it?” 

Bucky nodded slowly, though he felt unsure. “I didn’t remember that part. I mean, I remember..falling. From that train. But I didn’t remember what happened before.” He explained as his brain processed what he’d just seen. 

Sam nodded along, but he let Bucky think it out for himself. Bucky appreciated that. 

“You look tired,” he commented after it was clear Bucky wasn’t going to say any more.

Bucky nodded, but said nothing. 

“You should take a nap.” Sam suggested. “It’ll make you feel a lot better. Trust me.” 

Bucky shook his head, still a little disoriented. “Sam..I can’t.” He mumbled, trying his best to be comprehensible. 

Sam knew not to force it. “Okay. Okay. I won’t make you. It’s alright.” He soothed. “Just..know you can talk about it. If you wanted. I..when I got home, after…after Riley  was shot down, I got those a lot. Flashbacks. Nightmares. Panic attacks—you get it. All of the shit that comes with doing what we do. It..I won’t bullshit and tell you that you’ll be magically ‘cured’ one day. But I can promise you that you learn to get better at managing it.” 

Bucky nods, making his best attempt at a soft smile. 

“And I’ll be here. If you wanna talk. Like I said—I’ll help lay those skeletons to rest.” Sam said.

“No matter how many there are,” Bucky murmured as he recalled that afternoon. 

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

#sambucky #sam and bucky #sambucky fic #sambucky fanfiction

[stupidporcupine]

Together at the end

Rating: G

Tags/Warnings: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, major character death

Wants: I just want they can be together til the end of the line.

DNWs: What happened after Endgame

Summary: 

Bucky Barnes – a WW2 veteran just had a weird dream that he became an assassin under a maniac Nazi’s organization and Steve was there... It was so real, but glad that it was just a dream. Now, he can go back to his family and…his Steve.

Thanks to the wonderful mods of Bucky Barnes Events  @buckybarnesevents and the Shrinkyclinks Double Fest 2023. I'm so happy to have claimed this amazing art from @dwarvishgeorge. It's been an honor and privilege to work with you again, and your art is gorgeous.

-”You’re my friend…”

-”You’re my mission!” – the Winter Soldier looked violently at Captain America, punched him as hard as he could. 

-”Then …finished it…Cuz I’m with you…til the end of the line…” – Captain America looked straight at the Winter Soldier, which confused the assassin so much. ‘How can this man want to be killed. He could have beated him, but why?

Then, the Helicarrier collapsed. Captain America fell into the river. 

‘Cuz I’m with you til the end of line, pal’

‘Why does it sound so familiar? Has he heard it before?’ – Winter Soldier thinks.

‘Thank you Buck, I can be on my own now’

‘Don’t do anything stupid til I come back’

‘How can I? You take all the stupid with you.’

“Steve?”

-” Sergeant Barnes? Are you okay?”

Bucky Barnes woke up. He looked around, they were his warbounds, looking at him worriedly. 

-”Look like you just have seen a devil” – one soldier said. 

-”I guess it was a really bad nightmare.” – said Bucky. He calmed everyone that he was fine, but only he knew that he wasn’t. Everything he saw was so real. Himself as an assassin tortured by Nazis, a metal arm, and big strong Steve that tried to stop him but his crazy mind keep hurting Steve. That was definitely a nightmare – he thought. Although he always wanted Steve to be healthy, but a giant Steve like that…it’s impossible for his condition. And he would NEVER EVER hurt Steve, even never think about it. So maybe it was just a bad dream that showed him everything he never wanted to see. That’s all!

‘Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time’

After nearly four years, the war was finally over. Bucky and his peers can finally go home. The ship finally stopped at New York habour. Bucky was really excited to see his family and…his Steve. 

-”Mom…Dad…girls…It’s good to see you!!!” – Bucky hugged all of his family the moment they reunited at the habour. After experiencing a deadly war and that terrible nightmare, he cherished this like it was the most precious moment ever.

Dad drove the family to their home. Bucky asked them about another person, the one he vowed to protect. 

-”Guys, how is Steve?” – Bucky can’t not help it but asked about Steve, that punk. He did also hope to see him at the habour, but Steve was not there. Maybe because his condition was not good again, or he was making troubles somewhere, or even worse, he joined the army and became a what…super soldier?. Oh, snap it out, it was just a bad dream.

-”Oh, I thought you was gonna ask about him sooner” – laughed Rebecca. “Steve was the same without you, but you know, no one was there for him the deal with trouble, but mostly, he’s fine, we also supported him when he got sick. His health is not good these days, that why he cannot come and see you. He must be very happy if you come and see him.”

Rebecca was right, he needed to see Steve right now. He really missed that punk. 

*cough…cough* 

-”Rebecca? Is that you? Did Bucky come…back?”

Steve cannot say a word right now…It’s him…It’s Buck.

-”I heard that you have done some stupid things while I’m gone.” – Bucky smirk.

-”BUCKY!!!” –Steve burst into tears, seemed to forget that he was sick, ran forward and hugged Bucky like he never hugged him before. It’s been a long time since Bucky last wrote him. There was rumours that his unit was captured and was tortured. But now Bucky is here, and if it was a dream, Steve would never want to wake up. 

Bucky hugged Steve back. He was thinner than the last time he saw him. It must be so hard for him to be on his own during cold winter. Bucky knew that Steve is a strong man, but everyone needs helps sometimes. Steve must have refused the support from his family because he didn’t want to be treated like a weak kid. That punk,…always stupid.

However, Bucky was glad to see a small Steve, not that big guy that was called Captain in his nightmare. Because in that nightmare, Steve stupidly joined a deadly experiment, then was treated like a clown, and then sneaked in Nazis’ lair alone just to find him. Bucky never wanted Steve to run into a deadly war like that, never wanted him to see deadly scene. So, in a way, he was glad that Steve can stay at home safely.

Bucky missed his punk so much, he could not help himself but laying a kiss on Steve’s lips. To Steve’s astonishment, he said: “It must be God’s gift that I can be alive and go home. I just want to be by your side. Will you let me be with you til the end of the line?”

Bucky knew Steve did not have any prejudice on this kind of emotion, but would he accept his feelings? Bucky didn’t why he dared to do this, maybe he that nightmare gave him a belief that Steve also had the same feelings.

-”I miss you too, jerk” – Steve kissed him back. 

After returning from the war, Bucky got benefits from the government such as higher education and housing. Now, he can have a place of his own, where he can take a better care for Steve. He heard about an island called Hawaii, where the weather was sunny all year long. Therefore, he wanted to live there, with Steve so his health can be improved. 

Bucky worked very hard to earn money to support for his small family (in secret) and savings for Hawaii. Steve also have drawing jobs. Bucky knew that Steve loved it, but he worried about his health more. However, Steve is happy, so Bucky is happy. 

Finally, it was a sunny day in 1950, they can have a new life in Hawaii. 

The weather is really good for Steve’s health, the asthma was lessen. Everything here is relaxing, life is slower and people are friendlier. The native people there was open with the kind of feelings that they were having, which was amazing. 

It was a nice, quiet, and peaceful life that Bucky always wanted.

But nothing lasts forever. 

On Steve’s 50th birthday, they celebrated it in the hospital. Steve used to say on his 15th birthday that it would be a miracle if he can live until he was 50. But now, he is 50, and may leave this life at any moment. But he regrets nothing, accept the fact that he always feel like he has been a burden for Bucky because everything that Bucky did was for him. He wished that he was stronger to make Bucky happier. But, Bucky stopped Steve to say more. He got all he needed for this life, is to be til the end of the line with Steve. All he wanted is Steve to be healthy and stay with him longer.

Outside, fireworks were displayed colorfully in the sky, and inside, Steve had been into a forever sleep with a smile on his face.

Bucky held Steve’s hand, which was cold now. 

What could he do now? How can he move on without Steve? What should he do now?

Suddenly, Bucky saw a light outside, in the sky. It’s not fireworks or something, it’s just stay there. Bucky thought that his eyes had problems, since he is old now. 

-”Bucky…Bucky…” – he heard a voice outside. That familiar voice, how can he not recognize. But it’s not from the one on “sleeping” on the bed. It’s from the light, that light outside. Curiously, Bucky opened the window, in that light, he saw Steve, but not the same as his Steve. It’s the tall and big one that he once having a nightmare about it in the 40s.

-”Bucky…we will be til the end of the line together, won’t  we?” – that Steve said. Bucky knows that smile, that eyes, it was always Steve, just a different body. Steve would always want to be strong like that. His heart and mind never fits his body. This must be how he would have become if he was fully healthy. 

-”Sure, why not?” – Bucky takes “big Steve” hand and go into the light…

.

I guess that your mind is in peace now, and you can see you punk in Astral Dimension. Sleep well Bucky Barnes, you finally can be at the end of the line with Steve Rogers. 

I confirm that Bucky Barnes or Winter Soldier is dead now. There is no reason for me to stay in this dead universe anymore. 

You might be wondering who I am and what I am talking about. So, let me introduce myself. 

I am an inter-universe creature, who can travel across the multiverse. You can say that I, myself is a dark matters between world, who goes around, see things and escape from danger. With my power combined with my device, I accidently landed on this universe, where Ultron won and annihilated everything. On this planet Earth, somehow, Bucky Barnes still alive and he is also a Winter Soldier in this universe. I found him under the radiation snow, he was still fine, but seems lost. I tried to talk to him and looks like he was still finding his lost memories, just like his versions in many other universes. He did remember about Steve, his little Steve, which was Captain America. 

But well, in this hopeless universe, there is no more Steve for him to find, and now, he is all alone, in this world, waiting for death, a sad lonely deadth. Therefore, I decided to help him a little bit, by injected a dose of strong LSD, REALLY strong LSD. I did have a little affect on his mind, and with LSD, he can have a illusion in his mind about the life he always wanted with Steve. At least he died happily.

When the time comes, I touch his hand, take him to death with my power, a soft death, with a smile on his face. I guess you saw your Steve in Astral Plane. 

Well, this universe is dead now. I need to move to another one. Good night Bucky Barnes, I hope in a universe that I will come, you will be truly happy.

-THE END-

#bucky barnes events #stucky

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Hey!! For sambucky fluff diary event, #28 please!

@hot-chocolates-world!!! Thank you so much for the prompt! 💕 I hope you enjoy the drabble! 🥰

Prompt 7: Hiding Their Face in the Other’s Neck

| 6 | Prompts | 8 |

Sam was furious. He was embarrassed and furious and mad at his own body.

Sam had faced aliens.

He had faced Nazis trying to take over SHIELD and AIs run rampant. Sam had found the Winter Soldier hiding out in Europe when no one could trace him and no one knew if he was safe to interact with. Sam had fought with superheroes who were his friends (and one particularly annoying arachnid kid). He had taken down super soldiers who could have snapped him in half if they got the chance. He had been there at both of the battles where earth's mightiest heroes faced Thanos.

And sure. Okay. Sam had gotten a few scratches and bruises. He had turned into dust for five years, but that had been no fault of Sam's own, so Sam wasn't sure if that actually counted as an injury during battle (more of a... five-year buffer time).

This sucked. This was ridiculous.

How had Sam done this?

Watching Bucky laugh like it was going out of style, Sam wondered how the hell he twisted his ankle while jogging in Delacroix.

"I knew I shouldn't have called you," grumbled Sam as he lay on the side of the road.

"What? Were you going to call Sarah?" wheezed Bucky through laughs, "She would have been worse."

Bucky was right. She would have made fun of Sam for the rest of his life. There was no way Captain America Sam Wilson, near-invincible acting, would ever live this down if she knew Sam had been distracted by a Yellow-Rumped warbler before he unceremoniously toppled off the road and twisted his ankle.

No way in hell was he telling Sarah any of this.

"We're saying I went on a mission," said Sam.

"In the morning?" asked Bucky as his laughter finally wound down.

"I can have a... quick... early morning mission - shut up. We're saying that," said Sam, wincing as he accidentally moved his ankle wrong.

"Okay, Cap. We'll say that. Just let me take a look at it," said Bucky softly as he sat down with Sam in the tall grass and gingerly inspected Sam's ankle.

Nice gulf breeze. A view of the ocean on the other side of the road. The sunrise barely peeking out, casting a warm haze across all the land its rays touched. A little humid, and a little too hot for it to be exactly comfortable, but it was a wonderful time of the day. Romantic, almost, as they moved into golden hour.

And the way Bucky was with Sam's ankle. Like Sam could be delicate. As if Sam was someone who should be taken care of.

Which was a lot.

Too much, sometimes.

Sam had his own medical training. He used to save people who needed medical assistance with Riley. But it was nice to have someone to rely on. Someone who, if Sam called at five-thirty in the morning, would wake up and come help him even if Bucky hated mornings.

Sam wasn't sure if he'd had someone like that in his life. Not like this, at least. Someone who'd come with zero judgment. Who was okay with helping him. Who didn't make Sam feel like he was messing up or failing when he did ask for help.

It was... Sam wasn't used to it. It was nice, but it didn't feel exactly real sometimes. Like one day, Sam would wake up and he'd learn that there was no Bucky Barnes, no roommate.

Bucky Barnes was a historical figure. It was like having Sappho bandage him up. Though. Sappho probably wouldn't be making Sam feel things that he was pointedly avoiding. Sappho would be easier to deal with than the playing innocent asshole who was always there for Sam Bucky Barnes.

Why couldn't the Winter Soldier just be Sappho? Why couldn't Steve had been like, "Sappho! My favorite lyrical poet from Lesbos! Sam, you need to track her down and see if she's okay."

Had to be fucking Bucky Barnes.

"This is definitely twisted like you said," murmured Bucky as he gently placed the ankle down.

"I told you it was," said Sam as Bucky began searching for the right supplies in the first aid he brought.

"No, you're right. I apologize. I didn't mean I didn't believe you. I shouldn't just state the obvious," said Bucky as he found the bandage.

Sam winced as Bucky began wrapping the wound. Bucky gave Sam an apologetic look. Sam gave him an "It's okay," look back.

Bucky was tender; his hands wrapping Sam's ankle in what Sam could only describe as filled with affection. Sam didn't want this. He wanted zero sexual tension with ex-Winter Soldier Sappho wrapping his ankle. Not this.

This was hell.

Though, maybe Sam spoke too soon because Bucky was moving and - had Bucky just pulled Sam up into a bridal carry?

"Um. Sorry. I just," Bucky started, his face turning red, "I ran here. Faster. If you'd rather I run back home and get your truck - "

"No! Nope. This is. Um. Fine," said Sam, feeling his own face heat up, "This is fine. Totally. Fine. Great, actually. Home faster. Get this iced faster."

Sam didn't know when he had wrapped his arms around Bucky's neck, but he was doing that now.

Great.

Sam was wrong earlier.

This was hell.

"Yeah. Definitely. I'm just gonna..." Bucky said as he began running faster than a car.

Sam found himself hiding his face in Bucky's neck. Feeling embarrassed. Feeling adored. Smelling the strawberry shampoo Bucky kept insisting on buying for himself. Wanting this to be done as soon as possible. Wanting this to never end.

Sam wasn't going to think.

He was just going to hold onto Bucky and not think at all.

*****

This series is to celebrate Pride Month with some fun prompts. If you’d like me to write a drabble based on a prompt of you’re choosing, look at the prompts and send me one via ask! 🥰

#thank you so much for the prompt hot-chocolates-world!!! #sambucky #the daily sambucky fluff diary #sam wilson #bucky barnes #bucky takes care of sam #sambucky pride month event #sambucky touch prompt event #sambucky drabble #hurt comfort #tooth rotting fluff #dorks in love #domestic fluff #drabble 7 #hiding their face in the other's neck

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 1

Propaganda under the cut

Natasha Romanoff

People frequently write her as a Sexy, Intimidating, and Competent piece of furniture; she exists to be mildly intimidating, but has no real desires or inner life of her own, and all of her actions in the story revolve around the main m/m pair. Meanwhile, the m/m pair thinks of her as a Close Teammate(tm) but never devotes time or emotional energy to what might be going on in her life.

usually in certain fics she often just gets turned into a wingwoman for Steve, or if the fic is Tony centric she often ends up being bashed because of the whole team tony/team cap thing. 

Some of the best series Marvel has ever done were Black Widow solo runs. Unfortunately she was also Bucky's love interest at one point, and (before the MCU blew the fuck up) she was often fridged or villainised.

Peggy Carter

She’s a victim of Stucky mainly bc of the way marvel used her to give Steve an ooc ‘happy ending, but I know I’ve seen some posts calling her toxic or something it was 2019 so In CAT:FA, she’s introduced as a confident British agent. She has some chemistry w Steve Rogers (although more fans (on tumblr at least) preferred Steve and Bucky). She wasn’t just *woman who is strong*, but also had some emotional depth, with an actual range of emotion outside of angry and sad. She had a spin-off show, and she just continued to fight Russians and misogynists, even having chemistry in an almost wlw relationship and an eventual marriage to a famous shield agent. She went through character development and just was an awesome character. Then you know what endgame does? It has Steve Rogers travel back in time and take all of that development away. Most fans were mad at Marvel, and a lot were mad at Steve, but some fans threw Peggy completely under the bus, saying that they traded the (fanon?) queer ship/(canon) friendship for a bland love interest, which, um, she was so much more then that? I remember people really disliking Peggy, which isn’t fair to her character when she is/was so much more then that.

Peggy is vilified by people who ship Steve with his war comrade Bucky Barnes. I’ve even seen people claiming baselessly that she was secretly HYDRA the whole time. 

She gets in the way of stucky which OBVIOUSLY gives people, most of them women themselves, the right to be ridiculously misogynistic. Dismissing her character arc, traits, presence in the movies and her part in Steve Roger's life, saying she is insignificant on the ground of very subjective readings is one thing, but outright calling her 'just some old coochie', among other colourful, wonderful things, is another. They also keep reaching to villainize her (saying she's a literal nazi which she's not) and cancel her so their ship is somehow made more valid for it, erasing the competition as it were

#round 1 #poll #natasha romanoff #black widow #peggy carter #marvel #marvel comics #mcu

[notoyax17]

Captain America and the double-edge blade of “Context” from the outside perspective.

So... here’s the thing. The MCU, being a movie, allows us to have and add the context of Steve’s thoughts and beliefs to his actions. The framing of the movies and plot tell us to believe that Steve is “the good, moral man.”

But this is just telling us what Steve believes and what the writers believe. Anyone that’s consumed media can tell you that it’s really really easy for writers/directors to accidentally portray their characters in a way that sends a message that they hadn’t intended on. 

And the message that they accidentally conveyed? Steve may unknowingly be a Hydra sympathizer or a fascist sympathizer.

(Not a Nazi sympathizer, which is...close, but specifically a Hydra one.)

That’s sounds horrible, right? Super way off base? 

And it IS. That’s kinda my point. They didn’t mean to make it seem like that, but in universe, it would be stupidly easy for any journalist to make that case, regardless of whether or not it’s true.

PEGGY CARTER

Steve’s first love was Peggy Carter. Steve and Peggy are actually strikingly similar to each other, disenfranchised (due to health issues/stature and gender, respectively) trying to prove themselves and needing power to do so. They are both very quick to disregard the law, up to and including committing treason, when convenient to pursue their goals.

It’s important to note that it’s to pursue their goals, rather than just saying to do what’s “right.” Steve committed treason in his multiple attempts to join the army when actually being allowed to do so would have only gotten him and anyone trying to defend him killed. He didn’t need to join the war to help with the war effort. It’s just wanted he wanted for himself (Bucky - “Sure, because you’ve got nothing to prove...”). Peggy, despite no evidence and Howard Stark being her “friend”, decided that Howard intended to use Steve’s blood for nefarious purposes, so she stole the vial, which IIRC was part of government research since SI is a military contractor, and destroyed without so much as talking to him about it first. Supposedly because she didn’t want Howard to profit off of it, never mind any ways that those samples could have help the medical field or the army.

They would both go on to lead their own Stark funded organizations - SHIELD and the Avengers.

Which leads to the next big issue. A desire to have or retain power. 

SHIELD should be self-explanatory. Needing their fingers in every pie, secretive, breaking laws left and right to get things done, monitoring and capturing enhanced if they don’t work for SHIELD, etc. SHIELD’s policy’s reflect Peggy Carter’s desire for control of as much as she could get her hands on. There is no reason for SHIELD’s existence outside of not trusting anyone else to get the job done “right” and her distaste for the lack of trust/respect that she got from others in the spy/government community. 

Steve ran into the same problem with the Avengers, the unwillingness to let go of his own complete control over the team once the accords came calling. There is something to be said that, of all the people in that initial meeting, the ones considered most intelligent (a super spy, a literal rocket scientist, a genius engineer/most prolific CEO in the world outside of Pepper Potts, an android with the entire wealth of knowledge on the internet at his fingertips) all agreed on signing the accords. 

He turns them down but when given the option again, in order to avoid the first sign of real consequences for his actions coming down on his head, he nearly takes it. He only turns it down based on a weak excuse (Wanda’s “internment” in the sprawling compound. He fought in WWII. He should know what real internment is. Tony’s baffled response about her basically being “grounded” makes more sense than internment considering the size and amenities of the compound, Vision’s presence and the fact that the team frequently refers to her as a kid), escapes the moment he has a chance and continues on.

Which brings us to the next point, and also something Steve and Peggy have in common.

WANDA and ZOLA

This is actually where the real issues start.  

Both Peggy and Steve recruited a known Hydra agent into their ranks with minimal to no real oversight. 

SHIELD has a habit of recruiting people based on their “usefulness” rather than their belief in the cause or their goodness of character (I could go on a long rant about SHIELD’s really shitty record when it comes to asset management, but that’s something for another day). 

They both trusted their own judgement on these people. Their trusted their own judgement on their new charge’s character, on their ability to handle or control them, etc. And neither are the types to actually fully acknowledge being wrong, as stubborn as they are. 

So, despite committing outright atrocities (Zola was experimenting on soldiers in Austria - Bucky happened to be one of the few/the only one to survive that. Wanda unleashed the Hulk on Johannesburg just a day or so before), both were welcomed into the ranks with the slate wiped clean. Zola allowed enough freedom to work directly with Howard Stark and to make something that allowed him to upload his mind onto a computer. Wanda was running missions with Steve, against Hydra, despite being “untrained.”

And, of course, the moment those two were not looking, the world was visibly paying for it - Zola’s Hydra infiltrating SHIELD and the Winter Soldier’s missions, Wanda’s entire thing in WandaVision.

Apparently, fucking half of SHIELD turned out to be Hydra. That’s... that’s honestly an appalling level of incompetence for the so called spies of spies to have missed that, okay.

There is also Steve’s immediate sympathy towards the Maximoff twins in AOU. Something that Maria Hill herself notes as kind of off base, even if she doesn’t make a big deal about it. 

Steve, of all people, shouldn’t be sympathizing with twins’ joining Hydra to supposedly protect their country. Not less than one year after the clusterfuck in DC. He should be baffled. He should be shaking his head at people that would compromise themselves in that way.

He should NOT be looking at a pair of willing Hydra agents and seeing himself in them.

(There was no coercion there, they were not tricked. Wanda can read minds and... you know, they were sent after the Avengers.)

(I remember that conversation, that moment, being when the Shine of Captain America, who I had loved in TFA and TWS, started to wear off, and it just got worst as the movie went on.)

And then, Steve, the enemy of Hydra, takes the word of these actual Hydra agents who tried to kill their team yesterday over that of his own team and attacks them when they are in the process of creating Vision.

With no proof outside of Wanda’s word. The word of someone that has no problem admitting that she hates Tony Stark (and would thus have a motivation to lie to turn his team against him). The word of someone that unleased the Hulk on hundreds of innocent people - made worse by the fact that she likely didn’t know about the Hulkbuster armor.

But it’s okay, because Steve trusts her and she totally helped them out in a crunch! (To save her own life and the country she supposedly loves. But not to save South Africa or Seoul, because fuck ‘em, right?)

Steve also, in hiding the truth of the Stark’s deaths to protect Bucky, protected the Hydra agents that ordered the hit in the first place.

And lastly, he returns to live out his life in the past (disregarding all the warnings of not doing shit like that). Steve returns to the past and, despite being the touted enemy of Hydra, presumably ignores the decades of atrocities (against the world, against two supposedly close friends, against SHIELD) that they would go on to commit. He lived and slept peacefully despite knowing full well that Bucky was being tortured. He turned a blind eye to the death of a man he once called a friend, the corruption of his company and near murder of his son. He allowed his girlfriend/wife’s life work to be corrupted by Hydra and didn’t say a word.

STEVE’S FRIENDS (AND THE PEOPLE HE WORKED WITH)

This is the last point. It’s not as damning, but it’s... an itch.

There’s Bucky Barnes - unwilling Hydra agent. He has minimal to no real culpability for his crimes considering all of the brainwashing. It’s more that having your girlfriend and your best friend both have ties to Hydra is pretty awkward.

The STRIKE team. Steve spent somewhere between 1-2 years on a team comprised solely of Hydra agents with the occasional Natasha as his team. While not buddy-buddy (which he wasn’t with anyone at this time), he was friendly with them. They were his colleagues for almost around/longer than the Howling Commandoes were. There is a strong chance that they had some influence on him. You don’t spend that much time with people and pick up nothing from them.

Natasha. For better or for worse, Natasha is a former Russian Red Room (partnered with Hydra) agent that defected to become a SHIELD (partnered/influenced by Hydra) agent that is well known for being duplicitous as a habit and job. One who then compromised the entire US government and its relationships with other countries by dumping all of SHIELD’s secrets (and the secrets they had on other countries, no doubt) online. And of all the people that Steve could have trusted/gone to, he chose her. Whether this was good or bad is irrelevant. My point is that it looks bad.

Sam. (I love Sam and Anthony Mackie, he was the best part of that movie outside of the fight scenes, honestly.) Steve had known Sam for all of three days before going to him for help with defeating Hydra. He just so happened to have the file on the Falcon wings in his home for reasons. And casually agrees with committing treason alongside these two (in stealing the wings and everything else that happened in that movie). Sam could have been a Hydra plant (just as Sharon was a SHIELD plant) sent to watch him. He didn’t know who to trust but called on Sam of all people, assuming he had no ulterior motives.

-----

As an aside and final note, Steve’s ability to shift and eventually wield Mjölnir is touted as an undeniably “proof” of Steve’s goodness, which... it’s blatantly not in a way that’s baffling.

Setting aside Thor’s genocidal past (since the spell was placed after that), both Odin and Hela are capable of wielding the Hammer. Hela is...well, still entirely genocidal. Odin’s arc in his movies are mostly about his lies to his sons coming to light, his own genocidal past, and him considering humans to be like lowly animals and Jotun to be monsters.

Being “worthy” is a nebulous concept. Is it being a good person? Is it being worthy of holding the throne of Asgard (a notably warrior/blood-thirsty race of aliens)? Is it being similar to Odin (a list of traits that Odin specifically wanted in his son, for good or ill)? We don’t know!

Remember, despite Vision being the first of the team outside of Thor to fully lift  Mjölnir, his opinions on what the “right” thing to do have little to no weight in the next movie.

------

“Good becomes better and bad becomes worse,” is the saying for the Super Soldier serum. Abraham Erskine offered the serum to Steve because he wanted a “good man” who could become a better man. After all, look at what happened with The Red Skull.

But... that’s a sample size of one.

So, how does Erskine know that that’s the case?

Or that it’s mutually exclusive. 

What if good becomes better and bad becomes worse? What if both the good traits and the bad ones are amplified? What if Steve’s good traits were amplified enough for him to not go all in on the evil side but his bad traits (stubbornness, need to prove himself/be important/have control, his lying to suit his needs, etc) are also increased, leading to string of bad decisions that are worsened by the fact that almost no one actually takes him to task until really late in the game as a result of decades of propaganda?

What if Steve is only considered a Good Man because the writers/story say he is?

#MCU meta #steve rogers critical #peggy carter critical #but not really bashing either #steve rogers #peggy carter #wanda maximoff #arnim zola #hydra #My posts

[frasier-crane-style]

I guess Captain Falcon and the Winter Soldier was supposed to sell us on Sam being the new Cap

The problem is, as a character, he’s surrounded by characters who are more compelling as Captain America.

1. Steve, who they could always keep around or bring back or clone or whatever. Inspiring patriot. Bittersweet tendency to do the right thing no matter what. Angst of being a man out of time. Punched Hitler.

2. Bucky. Angst over being a man out of time and a brain-washed killing machine. Trying to atone for his misdeeds. Deep brotherhood with Steve to motivate him. Drawbacks: the angsting over Hydra shit is getting a little old. Well, maybe being thrown into being Captain America would force him to have a mood other than brooding for once.

3. John Walker. Yeah, I’ll say it, he’d make a better Cap. Has both character flaws and character virtues. It’s interesting to see him try to be Cap while overcoming feet of clay--something like Bucky’s angst, only we haven’t seen it ad nauseum. A dark side that can’t be explained away as all Nazi brainwashing.

Then you have Sam and he’s... uh... he’s black? He has money troubles? His sister lives in New Orleans and has a fishing boat and he gets stopped by the police and the mean old bankers denied him a loan?

Those are things that happen to him, not things about him. He doesn’t offer the old-school moral rectitude of Steve, but he also doesn’t have the intrigue of any kind of dark side. He’s flawless, but it’s more of a PC thing than Steve’s hard-won moral philosophy. He must be the good guy because they’re going to sell action figures of him at Disneyworld--the actual moral stands he makes are, umm, interesting at best. 

He spends the show acting like an entitled brat to Walker (who’s done nothing to earn being antagonized), breaking Zemo out of jail, refusing to condemn Karli’s murder rampage in any real way... could you imagine Steve, under the same circumstances, doing any of that?

Dude’s... just kind of a putz. He had a six-hour series to flesh him out, in addition to all the MCU appearances he’d already made. Did he feel like anywhere near as compelling and well-rounded a character as Steve was at the end of Civil War?