#angst !!!!

[nimblix]

buildermon angst

I take my leave

[artistakai]

[christian-reed]

7 for the kisses :)

7. forehead against forehead

“Hey—hey.” Bucky’s hands are bloody, staining Sam’s cheeks as he holds his face, trying to guide Sam to look at him. “Sam. Sweetheart, look at me.”

Sam’s gaze is darting around as fast as his chest is rising and falling with too-heavy breaths. There’s death all around him. The air is thick with it, pulling into his nose, he can taste it on his tongue and feel it all over his skin. Can’t escape it. It’s everywhere. It’s always been everywhere—

“Sam. Angel.” 

—Beneath his knees in the dirt, under his fingernails, sinking into his bones—

“Sam, sweetheart, look at me. Baby. Look at me, Sammy, just for a second, okay? Just right at me.”

—Sam gasps sharply, and finally finds it in him to do as Bucky’s asking, dragging his frantic eyes up to him. He gasps again as soon as their gazes meet, suddenly struck by the very real feeling of Bucky’s hands on his cheeks. It feels—different. Different to everything else. Different to the death around him, the heavy metallic scent in the air. 

“Hey. That’s it, just look right at me, good job. It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay.” 

“I—Buck, what’s—what’s going on—?”

“You’re safe,” Bucky says, holding Sam’s gaze like his life depends on it. “You’re safe, Sam, it’s—”

“Buck, there’s blood—you’re bleeding—” Sam tries to pull away to inspect Bucky’s hands, work out whether it’s Bucky’s blood or someone else’s. But Bucky doesn’t let him. Instead, he pulls Sam’s face in closer, presses their foreheads together. 

“Listen to me,” Bucky says, his voice soft but certain. “Listen, sweetheart. We’re both safe. No one’s bleeding. We’re at home, in DC, it’s four in the morning. We’re in our bed. Remember?”

Mind whirring too quickly, Sam screws his eyes shut when a fresh body falls at his feet, this one wearing the face of Bucky. Which can’t be right; Bucky is holding his face, speaking to him, breathing onto his lips. It’s the first sign Sam has that maybe what he’s seeing isn’t real. That the smell in his nose isn’t really there. That the blood on Bucky’s hands…

“It’s all right, baby. That’s it. Close your eyes, listen to me, okay? We’re at home, we’re safe. I promise. I’ve got you.” 

With the abruptness of a vacuum sealing closed, Sam is suddenly wrenched back into the present moment. The real moment. 

Sucking in a sharp gasp, Sam’s eyes fly open, and he pulls away from Bucky just enough to look around. 

Bucky was right. They’re at home. DC. And the softness beneath Sam’s knees isn’t mud. It’s their mattress. The wetness on his face isn’t blood, it’s sweat, so much of it that the sheets under him are wet with it. No bodies surround them, only the carefully selected furniture that they’d spent five hours at IKEA choosing all those months ago, a few piles of laundry, some shoes tossed haphazardly into one corner. 

Still panting, but starting to feel his heart rate slow down, Sam goes for the final confirmation that everything is okay: he looks down to Bucky’s hands, takes them and inspects them thoroughly, searching for any sign of blood. Nothing. Just Bucky. 

“There we go,” Bucky murmurs, squeezing Sam’s hands. “You’re all right, sweetheart. Everything’s all right. You’re not back there. You’re here.” 

Sam nods. Lifts his eyes, meets Bucky’s for only a second before he’s falling forward, resting his forehead on Bucky’s again. A little tentative, Bucky puts his hands on Sam’s face again, like he wants to anchor him there. He tilts his chin, meets Sam’s lips in a soft, tear-soaked kiss that keeps their heads pressed together. 

“Buck…” Sam mutters, grabbing tightly to Bucky’s biceps. “Felt so real, I thought—thought we were—” His voice fails him, throat tightening with tears. 

Bucky, stroking the back of Sam’s head, shushes him with another gentle kiss. “I’m here, darlin’. Take your time. It’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

Sam sighs, and does his best to relax in Bucky’s hold, into those familiar, lovely lips. 

[the-pobble-terrarium]

Heres that really unpolished angst I promised in the tags of my last post

[Transcript under cut]

Transcript:

Prismo, trapped in the cube on the ground of the time room: I wish we still talked…

Scarab, turning his head: …pardon?

Prismo, as Scarab approaches: I just!- I meant.- The day you left! T-that big fight we head.

Prismo cont. as Scarab picks him up: It was the last time I ever saw you.

Prismo as Scarab leers at him in his hand: No letters, no calls, you were just… gone. Without a word.

Prismo through Scarab’s point of view: I never got to say sorry or goodbye. We never got the chance to just… talk things out. And now you’re suddenly back.

Prismo cont. as we look at Scarab through his point of view: And you hate me. And you’re using every ounce of energy to destroy the only thing thats ever been mine. And I don’t understand why…

Outer view of Scarab staring at Prismo, both silent

Scarab holds Prismo over the time room’s hot-tub as he speaks: You always take everything personally, Prismo. Our past is over.

Prismo falling into the water as Scarab speaks out of view: I’m just doing my job.

[earth19125]

reply to this . @soldierworn

Thomas walked down the street, hands in his pocket, trying to enjoy having a moment with his friend. Unaware of the heavy news that weighed on Bucky's shoulders. He just wanted to have a decent rest of his night. He didn't think it would only get worse.

The streets got less populated as they walked on. The streets weren't empty but less crowded the further they got from the bars. Thomas lived down the block in a crummy studio apartment that cost him his entire paycheck. He had been happy to find a place not too far from Bucky and Steve. But far enough to make visiting inconvenient. Sometimes Thomas felt like Bucky and Steve were all he had. Yeah Jim was around and Jim had basically been his dad. But Jim was an android. And a hero. And then there was Mary, but she was a demigod and a hero. Toro was supposed to be a hero. He had been once. Or at least he had been a sidekick. What happened to him?

He rolled his eyes at Bucky's comment. "Oh don't flatter yourself. I've seen men more handsome than you." He laughed again, the sound growing happier yet. Oh how that happiness was to be ruined. He had been nervous when the draft was announced. When the news rolled over like a horrible wave. He knew Steve wouldn't be going anywhere. And he knew he wouldn't be going anywhere. He wasn't... well documented. Jim's adoption of him hadn't really been done under great terms. Thomas was under the radar. But he had wanted to join the war effort. He had been eager to when Jim had shot him down and told him why he couldn't. It had only made Thomas feel more hollow. Without purpose. He had hoped maybe he could make a name for himself, not for Toro, in the army. As a soldier who cared for his country. He was sure his powers would give him an unfair advantage that he could use.

Thomas glanced at Bucky and his stomach sank with those words left his friend's lips. His laugh turned nervous and weak, "What's up, Bucky? What do you need to tell me that's so serious?" He felt like he already knew. Something he feared. Something he envied. He felt like he could have predicted what Bucky was going to say. He personally would have rather been bludgeoned in the bar than run into Bucky if it was going to go this way.