Steve gets overwhelmed, sometimes, when things are too loud—too much. Car horns and sirens and voices meld together into something grating. As much as heightened senses can be useful, as much as Brooklyn is the other great love of his life, the noise is a downside.
Under the glare of city lights, Steve can fall into it like the deep end. He gets submerged and can’t find his way back to shore. He goes quiet—can’t focus.
Bucky can tell.
It’s the tension in Steve’s jaw, the way he shoves his hands in his pockets and keeps his head down.
Gently, Bucky touches the side of his face—waits for eyes to blink and focus on him. “Been a long day, pal. D’ya wanna go home?”
Another blink and Steve nods—tries to use Bucky’s hand on his waist as an anchor the whole way back.
Post-WS, a combination of amnesia and social changes means Bucky isn't always sure about the right social behaviours. His strength, though, is in observing and mimicking. This helps him blend quickly into the crowd upon his escape from Hydra - e.g. being able to pick out the bland clothing to go to the museum, being able to negotiate his way around the globe, being able to look like a regular - if somewhat taciturn - guy renting a flat and picking up plums.
When he finally returns to New York with Steve after many years away, they go window-shopping in the midst of a busy holiday season. There are people milling about everywhere; families out catching the sales and couples out for a date.
After watching the crowd around them for some time, Bucky reaches over and takes Steve's hand. He explains to Steve's surprised look that he saw two guys holding hands earlier, and it was a good way not to lose each other in the crowd. A little disappointed, and aware that Bucky has made some gaffes before when copying behaviour out of context, Steve explains that it wasn’t so much people held hands to not lose their way, but because the two guys were a couple. It was now acceptable for gay people to be openly affectionate in public.
As he draws away he feels a tug on his hand, and his heart thumps wildly as Bucky leans in to murmur, “That’s even better.”
The really bewildering thing to me is that I remember when you needed to get up and pull a dictionary off the shelf, or visit a library to look up the facts you needed. Now people have all kinds of information literally at their fingertips and they can’t be bothered to use it.
Also, I love that, in the sign language one, it seems like the last image might've been a gif of "fuck you," screenshot at the perfect time to let you know they were about to sign "fuck you"
The last of the credits roll over the screen before the screen goes dark. Coincidentally the lights of the room get slowly turned on by Jarvis. On the huge couches multiple Avengers stretch their limbs out.
“Do you now think you can sleep tonight, Katniss?” Tony mocks.
Clint makes a face. “Watching a cute childrens movie after watching a horror film is the law."
“It’s not the law”, Natasha scoffs, “you’re just a huge baby.” She smirks, trying to ruffle Clint’s feathers.
Clint crosses his arms in front of his chest and sinks deeper into the couch cushions. “Whatever. At least I’m gonna dream of delicious french food instead of Annabelle.”
“Or you’re gonna dream of rats controlling your body in your sleep.” Bruce states calmly, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes.
“Oh come on Bruce, not cool”, Clint whines and pouts while Natasha snickers.
“Poor Clinty, and the mighty Cap can’t even take your side. Look at him. It’s probably way past grandpa’s bedtime.” Tony points to the other end of the couch where Steve has sat down earlier this evening. Now he’s curled up on his side, head laying on the backrest and legs halfway pulled up to his chest, hands lying in his lap. His eyes are closed and his mouth slightly open.
"Aww he looks so cute", Tony coos jokingly.
"He looks so peaceful without his frown", Clint notices.
"He looks so…" Bruce hesitates.
"Young."
A weird silence fills the room. Everyone stares at Steve, mouths shut. His face is completely relaxed, his shoulders don't seem to carry the whole world. He just looks like a fit guy in his twenties.
"I mean, he was born in 1918…" Tony's voice is barely above a whisper. "And he crashed the plane in 1945, so he was 27."
"But his birthday is in July so technically 26." Bruce's voice sounds a little shaky.
"Holy shit", Clint breathes. "Are you telling me we made the youngest team member our leader?"
More silence.
Natasha turns to Bruce. "So he should be 27 now, right? It's been about a year."
Bruce nods, but doesn't take his eyes off of Steve. After a while Clint gets up to grab a blanket and carefully covers Steve. The others get up too to go to bed, but everyone hesitates leaving the room.
"Shouldn't we wake him? He probably would rather sleep in his bed", Bruce suggests.
"I think we should let him sleep." Tony sounds uncharacteristically calm, a weird look in his eyes.
"A night on the couch won't kill him. He's just 27."
Summary: Bucky is ready to make you the star of your own movie.
A/N: For my bestie @cryptidcasanova, you requested Bucky with some yandere fun... and well I went off lol. Just a note, despite the title, I don't actually mention gender/downstairs bits.
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Oh god.
This was it. Bucky was going to do it. Everything had been leading up to this moment. He had been dreaming about this, fantasising about how this would go. How perfect it would all be for the both of you.
All that time he spent preparing a safe home for you would be rewarded. The days he spent searching for the perfect couch, one that he knew would be big enough for the two of you, one he could picture you bent over the armrest or the back of it and begging for his cock, would pay off. Thinking about it even now made the blood rush to his cock, made it chub up in his jeans like it had a million times before. He couldn't wait for you to see it, to feel the soft fabric against your pretty skin.
All that time spent at the garden centre would finally pay off too. He knew you liked your plants, had seen them on Instagram and how much care you put into making sure they found a perfect home. He couldn't just take the ones from your home. No, god no, that would be horrible. They were your babies. Your new home was decorated with the new plants Bucky had painstakingly researched and purchased to make sure they were perfect for you. Our plants, Bucky reminded himself, butterflies erupting in his tummy. They are our babies now.
All that time he watched you was finally coming to an end. No more making excuses to not hang out with his friends. No more rainy nights watching the lights in your bedroom flick off. No more. Bucky was done. He was ready to talk and touch and feel. He needed to close the distance between the two of you.
He walked into the small cinema. It had a beautiful, old school feel to it that reminded Bucky of a time gone by. He had looked up the history of this place after the first time he saw you walk in. Apparently this had been theatre during the 1930s and 40s, boasting that even Captain America had done a performance here before he went off to fight really Nazis. Bucky could be a history buff if that's what you wanted. He could learn anything he had so he could understand you.
Instantly his eyes trained on you, standing by the usher's podium waiting to accept tickets from patrons. Bucky had pre-ordered his ticket. He was seeing Licorice Pizza again. You wouldn't stop tweeting about it and how great it was, so he was still trying to absorb all the details of it. You scanned the QR code on his phone.
"Just down the hall, screen two will be on your left."
You smiled at him and Bucky's whole heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest and his tongue felt like it had been glued to the roof of his mouth. He smiled back, or at least he tried too. He wanted to make sure you knew he appreciated you even if he couldn't say the words yet. Damn it.
Halfway through the film he heard the door open quietly and he knew you were coming to watch. You always did this for films you liked. He knew this. Which is why Bucky moved seats closer to you. You were so absorbed in the film you didn't even notice him. He tried not to take it personally. He knew you were passionate.
Before the credits started to roll, he put his plan into action. Just like the internet said, when he pinched his hands over your nose and throat, you passed out quickly. And the fire exit was right there. He dragged you outside and the rest was history. You were finally coming home.
📽️📽️📽️
Your throat hurt when you woke up. You were probably just dehydrated, that happened sometimes when you worked the late shift and ate leftover popcorn for dinner. It had been such an exhausting shift you couldn't even remember getting home. You burrowed deeper into your bed, it was your day off. No reason to get up early today.
A cosy warm blanket was tugged around you, keeping you wrapped and barely conscious. This was perfect. The best way to spend your day off. Sure you needed to bath your plants and do some laundry, but that could wait a little longer. Another tug disturbed your dozing and your nose scrunched.
A deep sigh fanned across your neck and made your muscles lock up. You weren't alone. There was someone in your bed. Suddenly the night before came crashing back to you. The sneaking in the last bit of the movie, someone grabbing you. A flash of a smile comes to mind but you couldn't place who it belonged to.
You squirmed, fingers digging into the arm wrapped around you. You had to get away, this couldn't be happening. This didn't happen to girls like you. They just didn't.
For all your quiet attempts at escaping, it alone roused the person behind you enough to lock their body around yours. Something hard pressed into your back and another, deeper sigh heated your flesh. Your captor pressed further into you, grinding his hips into your ass until you whimpered. Fear and something traitorously shamefully boiled in your gut. So overwhelmed by the feelings, you shook your head, trying to physically cast them aside, but you couldn’t. Your captor’s hand slid under your shirt and groped your chest, his fingers flicked across your nipple.
“Please.” You wanted to cry. This couldn’t be happening, it had to be a nightmare. “Please.”
Lips pressed against your ear, tongue darting out to pick as the pace increased. He grunted, his nails digging into your flesh. It wasn't about teasing you anymore, making you feel things you shouldn't. Your captor was awake and demanding.
"Hold- hold still, I just-" he groaned, rolling the two of you over until he was crushing you into the unfamiliar bed. "Just let me take the edge off, promise to make it good."
Your cries grew desperate, not to get away but to breathe at all. You flung your limbs out and the man on top of you only wrapped himself around you tighter. One hand crushed into your sternum and the other dug under you until he could grab your neck. Tears streamed down your face with every raspy, ragged breath you took.
"I didn't mean for it to start like this," he groaned in your ear, grinding his cock over in between your ass, pulling at the fabric of your underwear. "Was gonna wake you with my mouth between your legs, taste you after so long, baby. Make you breakfast while you got used to our home and-"
His voice shook, like he couldn't control himself any longer. Every thrust became harder and violent, your body jerking against the grip on your neck. He wasn't even inside, and yet it felt like he was already tearing you apart, ripping your soul at the seams until you couldn't see or hear or live.
He shouted when he came, the damp spot pressed into your back as he came down. His harsh breathing evened out as your vision began to swim. Black spots formed behind your eyes.
"Shh, that's it, we can do another take. Will get it right this time. I've got plenty of film for us to make the perfect movie of our lives."
Just someone doubting the amount of strength in Bucky’s flesh arm and he strolls up to Steve and lifts him into a fireman carry with no effort whatsoever. Steve turning red and thinking very inappropriate thoughts because someone can actually do that
I LOVE THIS
And Bucky knows the affect he has on Steve. He knows it gets Steve all squirmy and blushy when he plucks him up like that. But the real spectacle is one time Steve's in a bad mood. Brooding as he stalks all around the Tower. Opening the fridge a little too aggressively only to slam it shut a moment later.
The others have learned not to poke him when he's like this-- it usually either results in a glare or a politely annoyed statement along the lines of, "leave me alone". Or occasionally, Steve will bite the head off of whoever tries to get his attention when he's like this.
But Bucky takes one look at him brooding in the kitchen and rolls his eyes, swooping down to scoop him up and toss him over his shoulder. The icy expression on Steve's face melts into a wide eyed look as he yelps, face going red as he tries to hit at Bucky's back.
"Put me down!" he shouts indignantly as Bucky snorts and carries him to the living room.
"Not a chance, pal," he says, tossing Steve onto the couch and kneeling over him while Steve tries to wrestle him. The others watch on in vague shock, and for a moment, they can see those two boys from Brooklyn that the history books all talk about. Wrestling each other and huffing as they try to get the upper hand. It ends when Bucky pins Steve's arms down with his knees and gets his fingers under Steve's armpits to tickle him.
Steve shrieks, writhing as he starts to laugh, face bright red. And it's almost hard to believe that just a few minutes ago, he looked ready to beat up the first person that came within a five foot radius of him.
"Stop!" Steve shrieks. "Buck-- no-- Buck! Mercy, mercy!"
"Alright, alright," Bucky says, laughing as well. And he looks so goddamn fond as he watches Steve get control of his laughs, hair a mess and face bright red. Bucky clambers off of him and kisses his nose. "Gotcha to smile, though."
Steve just rolls his eyes and draws his knees up to his chest to hide. But damnit if he isn't still smiling.
