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    Captain America and the Winter Soldier meet for the first time in 2015. Now Bucky, after years of torture at Hydra's and more as a prisoner of S.H.I.E.L.D., is being given the chance to gain his freedom. All he has to do, is complete a mission with a team he can't stand while following the orders of yet another pompous, controlling Alpha. Steve thinks he can get his team through their most difficult mission to date, so long as he can get the smell of the Winter Soldier's heat out of his nose.

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    21 Sep 2018

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    He should have worked it out sooner. But then, Steve always was a sneaky little bastard—had to have been, just to survive this long.

    For the SteveBucky Fest prompt, "Steve is quite experienced while Bucky's never gone beyond second base with anyone".

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    10 Sep 2018

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    Between the two of them, Bucky's not the only one with ghosts.

    All Bucky can think, holding on to Steve the way he's always done, in one way or another, the ugly truth of something creeping into his awareness, is 'who the fuck dared not love him?'

    Written for this prompt at the Steve/Bucky fest.

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    05 Sep 2018

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    After that he just looks at himself for a long time, taking in the rich blue of the dressing gown, the silk dark enough to cover him well but sheer enough to hint at what’s underneath. The shape of the kaftan fades the breadth of his shoulders, and the sash tied around his waist accentuates the narrowness of it; creates an illusion of Bucky being slenderer, smaller; tiny, delicate. With the new haircut and the faint flush high on his cheekbones, he looks almost unrecognizable: clearly more pretty than handsome; feminine, like one of those housewives in the 1950s media, waiting for her man to come home.

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    08 Aug 2018

  5. Public Bookmark *

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    Steve saves him.

    In a way, Bucky wishes he hadn’t, because at least then Bucky could’ve pretended that those letters from Spokane and Tucson and Philadelphia never arrived. Bucky could’ve died imagining that Steve was safely in Brooklyn, clinging to life with the skin of his teeth, maybe taking Rebecca and Alice out dancing.

    But Steve does, and Steve is. Is.

    Bucky doesn’t know how to describe him anymore. Doesn’t know how to draw him anymore either.

    The book is gone. Bucky takes a deep breath, looks down at his shaking hands, balled into fists on top of a new blank journal, and starts again from the beginning.

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    08 Aug 2018