#burnedbxnesrumlow

[alwaysxinxtrouble]

The Met Gala was not exactly an event Bucky had been looking forward to, though the designer he worked with for every other event of the year couldn’t have been more excited. Since they started working together, Hans’ career had skyrocketed and was quickly becoming the go-to designer for the stars. But he always made sure his favorite client was on the top of his list. With the Gala's theme for that year, Hans had gone all out, incorporating an idea from his latest movie into the outfit.

Lights from the cameras flashed like strobes across the red carpet, more people shouting at him than he felt comfortable with but Bucky never faltered. His face was relaxed behind the black gemmed half face mask, striking casual poses to please the photographers with an intensity in his eyes.

Despite the high energy of the event, Bucky's mind was elsewhere, thinking about being in the back of the SUV. Brock had been sitting next to him and he had wanted nothing more than to kiss him, feel the man's rough hands on his skin. With Hans sitting there, what he had wanted was impossible and he had to settle for their knees touching.

A quick glance over his shoulder to Brock standing off to the side to signal he was going on before Bucky continued up the stairs into the museum. Only once he was out of view of the paparazzi did he remove the mask and take a much needed deep breath of fresh air, running a hand through his hair.

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[f1rstresponder]

starter for @burnedbxnesrumlow

The air in the basement was oppressive and stale. Underneath the powerful notes of cigarette smoke and sweat was the harsh, metallic aroma of blood. In some places, mainly the unlit corners, there was the foul smell of vomit and piss, mixed with what TK assumed to be a cocktail of bleach and other cleaning products. In the middle of the large, open space was the arena. Or maybe it wasn't so much an arena (not like the one where the actual fighting happened) as it was an improvised boxing ring where the newest recruits were trained.

The aid station is located in one of the backrooms that, seeing how it comes with a sink and a small counter plus cabinets, probably used to be some kind of laundry or utility room for whatever this building used to house. There are no windows or ventilation and the only light comes from a fluorescent lamp on the ceiling that recently started flickering. It was musty and definitely didn't meet the requirements for an infirmary or med bay, but at least it didn’t smell as bad as the main area.

Except for the blood, maybe.

The scent wafts up the moment TK enters the room, gaze immediately landing on the figure that's slouched on the wooden chair. Wordlessly, TK closes the door and sits down on the stool in front of the other. He knows not to treat them like they're actual patients. It's been drilled into him from the very start, back when at least two guards, or goons, were stationed near the door to make sure TK was doing his job right.

"Alright. Lift your head, please," he says, making sure to keep his voice as dull and flat as possible. One of the handlers had mentioned a rookie with minor facial injuries and that's about all TK knows.

[musesofthetower]

I run the Show (open starter for burnedbxnesrumlow)

Tony was a picture of smug, his legs resting on the big desk in his new office. It had taken some time to build up his reputation, but he now was running a base for Hydra. What made it all the better? Rumlow had just been stationed at the base and the abrasiveness soldier was now going to be his personal lap dog. Maybe in a couple of years Tony could have the whole of Hydra in the palm of his hand. That would be a good feeling. He just couldn’t wait for Brock to find out just who his new superior officer was.

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[tcthefairest]

The kitchen stove clicked off with one press of her manicured fingers as Eris lifted the frying pan and slid the meal she was cooking on-to a plate. As she did, her throat hummed the tune of an ancient greek lullaby that her mother never sang to her.

Stepping into the bedroom quietly, both hands holding the tray that contained the assorted breakfast, she continue her tune. Setting the tray on the bed were the mortal slept she stepped to open the windows, sunlight bathing into the room that had been the setting of her MURDER long ago... or so the poor bastard thought.

She looked outside before slowly removing the spell from the human. Decades of horrors and pains which had all been but a nasty nightmare fabricated by the goddess washed away in a stroke of her delicate hands. 

Eris dusted off the curtains for a moment as she turned to the man, waiting for him to respond.

“Rise and shine darling!” She said gently, face framed with a loving smile. 

                      “Dear me, you slept like the DEAD.”

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[alwaysxinxtrouble]

🥘 + Brock (@burnedbxnesrumlow)

send in 🥘 + your muse’s name for a picture of what Clint tried to cook them for dinner: accepting!

"I swear to god I'm not trying to kill you..."

@burnedbxnesrumlow

[alwaysxinxtrouble]

“Ah, fuck it.” -to Bucky, in our Purge!verse

@burnedbxnesrumlow

This time it was Bucky who was pissed off. Brock pushed a little too far at a convention and in the end stopped him from signing autographs outside the center. In Bucky's opinion, not all of his fans could afford the tickets to the ComicCon let alone the additional tickets to get an autograph or picture with him. Taking ten minutes to visit the fans who waited outside all day in the pouring rain wasn't a security risk, it was simply honoring the people who made him an A-list actor. Apparently Brock saw it differently, refusing to let him to take the time to visit his rain soaked fans with a long list of reasons as to why he couldn't. He didn't listen to a single one.

Out of utter anger for what happened, Bucky hadn't spoken a word to Brock in two days, a cold shoulder being his weapon of choice. It was difficult considering his bodyguard was also his lover, which he figured only fueled the man's desire to keep him safe.

Two days of no physical contact or anything said to him must have been Brock's breaking point. One second Bucky was walking down the hall heading towards the bodyguard, giving him a cold glare as they passed, and the next his back was against the wall with lips furiously claiming his own. His hands fisted into the man's shirt to push him away but instead pulled him closer, letting the heat of the kiss to consume.

Finally Bucky pulled back to gasp for breath, growling against his lips. "You better finish what you've started."

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[alwaysxinxtrouble]

continued from here {x}

Waking up seventy years into the future, Steve felt more out of place at times than he did in the forties when he was skinny and sick. But this, hitting the punch bag made him feel at home. It was the most normal thing he had done since he came out of the ice and he couldn’t be more thankful for it. For a moment, it almost felt like Bucky was with him again. His heart hurt for a minute, wishing for more than anything it was true, but at the same time he could only smile. Bucky would be proud of him for this, getting back on his feet and pushing forward.

“Not a lot of people into boxing nowadays?” Pulling off his gloves, Steve gratefully accepted the water and towel, gulping down a few mouthfuls after wiping the sweat from his face, missing the eyes raking over his chest. “Not at a lot of men jump at the chance to train with me. You know that, right?" He flashed the Commander a playful smile before taking another sip of water. “But yeah, I’ll take you up on the training and I'll bite at the other fighting styles. You got me a little curious about them."

Steve finished off the last of the water. "What's your schedule look like? If you don't mind me asking."

@burnedbxnesrumlow

[alwaysxinxtrouble]

continued from here {x}

After the Triskelion fell, the soldier had returned to the bank as his orders had been but finding the scientists grabbing what they could and running for it before the police could arrive only showed him that hydra had truly fallen. Everything he knew was gone. Except for the name Steve Rogers had given him during the battle. From there, it was a long search of who he was while avoiding the police and the Captain. Years passed and he took to calling himself Bucky again. Memories were slowly coming back to him piece by piece, each one diligently written down in a journal so he would not risk forgetting them again. Eventually, Bucky found a small studio apartment where he could easily come and go without being noticed. The upkeep was low and with the money he had stolen from several hydra accounts he didn't have to worry about finding a source of income.

“Why are you here?” Biting the inside of his cheek, every muscle in his body was taut and ready to whatever this encounter came to, eyes darting around the area in search of any other agents. It had another been a quiet day running a few errands around the city, mainly going to the farmer’s market for some groceries. Four plums in a bag and he turned to continue on to the next stall then froze in place, an eerie chill rushing through him. Him. Brock Rumlow. “How did you find me?” Fear threatened to overwhelm him with every passing second and he couldn’t help himself. “Please…I don’t want to go back.”

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