Follows and likes will come from main blog: @lxyaltxafault
Finally revamped this blog and still working on it!
This is an independent, semi-selective, private roleplay blog for Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. This is a multiverse and multiship blog; the mun does reserve the right to say no. Semi-Selective does NOT mean mutuals only, everyone is welcome to submit asks or tag the boys in anything!! Prone to semi-regular short hiatuses due to chronic illness
READ RULES AND ABOUT PAGES [Minors do NOT interact]. I’ve included some additional guidelines for interacting with the boys below the cut, please take the time to read them.
Askbox and DMs are open and Anons are welcome~
MOD INTRO
Steve Rogers Bio
Bucky Barnes Bio
Given that this blog is multiverse, threads can take place at any point in the timeline. Characterizations might vary slightly especially if we are writing AU threads however my versions of Steve and Bucky are almost completely based in their MCU characters. I have NOT read the comics nor am I familiar with them at all.
GUIDELINES
I love to plot especially if you feel like our characters could have chemistry. My askbox is always open for memes or anything but if your character is an OC then I prefer to talk or plot things out first so I can have a better understanding of your character and how they would interact with my characters.
I do ship Stucky and I’m happy to write both characters for a thread, especially romantic, however it is much more mentally tiring to write both at the same time and will likely lead to slower responses. Please try pick either Steve or Bucky for asks and memes instead of both every time, I definitely understand the appeal of both (two bad bitches at the same damn time) and I just want to make sure I don’t get too burnt out or drop too many threads because it’s too difficult to keep both sides going.
i AM NEW CHRONICALLY ILL. I write purely for my own enjoyment but with this new chronic pain, I am more prone to dropping threads. Especially those that are not part of a discussed plot or that are more uh..smutty gratuitous. Please understand that I never do it intentionally but sometimes I have to get offline suddenly after consistent back and forth or my activity gets too flooded with notes or in all honesty I suddenly stop feeling the inspiration or mood necessary for the more NSFW centric threads. So if I do stop responding and you think it was an accident, you can always DM me! You are also more than welcome to send an ask or even tag me in things later and I’ll be happy to respond.
But sometimes I do choose to stop responding for any number of reasons, never personal but mainly for lack of chemistry/interest from characters or incompatible writing styles. I’m truly sorry that it’s difficult for me to be more direct but I’m writing this here because I don’t want anyone to think I’m ignoring things because they’ve done anything wrong. More likely my brain just won’t cooperate no matter what I do.
"Like you want to undress me and fuck me over the gym equipment. Can't have someone walking in and realising what a horny monster their precious Cap is." Elliot baited as he rose from his squad and set the weights back onto the bar; his gym clothes were sticking to his skin as he picked up his water and took a long drink, his eyes locked with the blonde's.
"You just-" He reached out to push the button he had been indicating. "Press this when the ball comes near you and it hits it. And, like, you don't want the ball to fall- It's like real life?" He was too busy laughing to explain properly, though he was doing his best not to piss Bucky off too much.
"Ain't that-" He was breathing hard beneath the older man's body where he was pinned on the training mat; full of that exhausted exhilaration of being well and truly beaten. "-just the truth." He was pretty and pliant under Bucky's hands, looking up at him in a way he knew was teasing; green and gold eyes sparkling through dark lashes with a sweetly submissive gaze- Until he bucked his hips up just to see if it would throw Bucky off, physically or mentally.
Bucky froze at the voice—but this time, something did catch. Not recognition. Not fully. Just… something that snagged in his chest and didn’t let go. His eyes locked onto the man in front of him, scanning fast—taking in the height, the muscle, the way he carried himself like he belonged in a fight and knew he’d win it. But underneath all of that—under the shoulders and the stance and the way the light hit his face—there was something familiar. Something that didn’t make sense. Bucky’s brow furrowed, confusion twisting sharper as he took a step closer. “…Hold on,” he muttered, almost to himself.
His gaze flicked over Steve again, slower now, like he was trying to line this version up with the one in his head. “You—” He stopped, shook his head once like that might fix it. “No. No, that’s not—” A frustrated breath left him as he dragged a hand through his hair. “You look like him,” Bucky said finally, voice rough with disbelief. “Like Steve. But that’s—” He let out a short, disbelieving huff. “That’s not possible.”
The hangar didn’t help. The machines. The size of it. The everything. It pressed in at the edges of his awareness, wrong in every direction, but he couldn’t look away from him. “Where the hell am I?” he demanded again, sharper now, but his eyes stayed locked on Steve. “Because last I checked, I was in Brooklyn lookin’ for a guy half your size who can’t win a fight to save his life.”
Then, quieter—more dangerous for how real it sounded—“…and you’ve got his face.”
Steve leaned into the hand on his shoulder without meaning to, balance tipping just enough that he didn’t argue when Bucky tugged him along. “No, no, I stand by it,” he insisted, words slower now. “You ever see it when he’s not using it? Just… sitting there. Menacingly. Like it’s judging the floor.” He let himself be guided the rest of the way, dropping onto the couch with less grace than usual, one hand dragging over his face as he exhaled. “Also—” he added, lifting a finger like this was very important, “—if Thor ever loses it, does that mean he’s… de-lighted?”
“I could pick it up,” he went on after a beat, quieter but still convinced. “Not— not because of worthiness. Just… leverage. Physics.” He gestured vaguely. “Good angles. Strong base.” His head tipped back, a soft huff of a laugh following. “Don’t tell him I said that either,” he murmured. “I don’t need to get smote over furniture opinions.” A pause, then softer, almost fond—“You’re a good friend, Buck. Even when you’re enabling terrible ideas.”
