#captainsoldier

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Captain America #TheFirstAvenger 📸 @cgerock #Marvel #InfinityWar #TheAvengers #CaptainAmerica #CaptainSoldier #America #ToyPhotography #Toystagram #ActionFigures #Collectibles #CharliesActionFigures

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okay but stucky beauty and the beast au.
bucky the once kind-hearted prince who was manipulated by the royal advisor (pierce) to become cruel to his people. he gets cursed along with the rest of his castle.
Sam and nat as lumiere and cogsworth ok fight me on this. then you have Steve, Steve who lives in a tiny village with his "uncle" dr. Erskine. Steve who's too weak and sick to do heavy lifting or hunting, so he spends his time helping the doctor or drawing. Steve who loves the town but the people just don't get him, how is he still alive with that weak body? that boy could never amount to anything, even opportunity was there he's too short to reach it. he's always getting himself into trouble, why can't he just be a nice young man like the other boys and do what he's told. Steve who still takes no shit from anyone and isn't afraid of a fight. Steve who sees dr. erskine go off to present his research at a medical gathering, only for the horse to come back panicked. he goes after him, only to come upon a dark castle. someone leads him up a spiral staircase, but he keeps having to stop so he can breathe. it takes longer than he would have hoped. the cold makes him shiver as he approaches the top of the tower. Steve doesn't even think when the lord of the castle claims erskine to be his prisoner. he immediately offers himself instead. the beast accepts. steves hands are shaking and his breathe is rattling and everything is sore from climbing the endless stairs, but he's never backed down from a fight. hes so worked up that after erskine leaves the castle, he stops being able to breathe right and he suddenly feels very lightheaded and he's tired and dehydrated and hungry and weak and probably getting sick. everything goes black.

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please stucky head canon jam with me.

i'm desperate

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send me stucky prompts and I'll write a short something for them

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post!catws au where instead of just dropping steve off on the beach or whatever, bucky steals a car and just drives off with an unconscious steve. he tends to his wounds and then steve wakes up in a dirty motel and the door is locked and but he can't move because of his bandages. after a while bucky walks in and doesn't say anything, just throws steve a cup of noodles and goes into the bathroom. and stays there. steve later finds out he was sleeping in the tub because he couldn't sleep in the bed and the room itself was grey and poorly lit. he slept with the lights on.

meanwhile the world's freaking out because captain america has gone MISSING and thats very bad. and he and bucky are just on the isolating near-silent road trip to nowhere. and they just help and heal each other.

and then they go back to new york and natasha slaps steve in the face for just disappearing and sam glowers disapprovingly and they all move into the tower and live (more or less) happily ever after.

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I Am Captainsoldier Trash: A fanfiction Chapter 4

woo finally have a beta. thanks to lockwoodandco.

this is also on ao3.

Thank for reading!

chapter one 

The woman, who had introduced herself as Kate, left him to stand in the hallway while she but her gun away. He shouldn’t trust her. He should probably just snap her neck, but for some reason it doesn’t seem that simple anymore.

            It took her longer than it should have. He was left to stare at grey walls and white doors, ending at a staircase.

            Kate came out of her room, shoulders stiff and mouth in a thin line.

            “The kitchen’s down here.”

            He obediently follows her down the wooden steps. At the bottom is a large open space, seeming to be a living room and entranceway in one. A counter separates the kitchen from the living space.

            “Do you have a preference?” she asks, looking back to him as she opens a cupboard. He shakes his head. She grabs two boxes and sets them down. Afterwards she opens a drawer and pulls out a pad of paper and a pen.

            There are men after you. They’re upstairs. They’re listening in on us.

            The Soldier nods in understanding.

            They’re probably coming down the stairs now. Go to the restroom. There’s an unlocked window. You should have a good head start.

            “Thank you,” he whispers.

            I don’t know who you are, or what they want from you, but promise me you’ll go find your friend after this.

            He nods stiffly again.

            “The bathroom’s over there,” she loudly says, pointing to a door.

            He walks over, closes the door, and locks it. That should slow them down when they come after him. Glancing around his eyes lock onto the window. Silently, he grips it, pulls it upwards, and uses pulls himself up.

            As he runs down the road he hears shouting and gunshots, and finds himself hoping that the woman who helped him was okay.

            He doesn’t know much about what he’s doing, or who he is, but he does know that he does not want to go back.

            Somehow, he finds himself in New York. He had just been walking, to be honest. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going.

            He looks around at the big city. It’s filled with skyscrapers and lights and a thousand things all begging for attention.

            His head feels like it’s splitting open. Being sore everywhere, and exhausted, doesn’t help either. But what is he supposed to do with all this information? All these sensations? Resting is not an option. He now knows there are people after him. Every minute he isn’t moving is another minute wasted

            But the world is suddenly spinning and it’s all he can do to make it to an alleyway before he throws up.

            It’s mostly just bile. There isn’t anything in his stomach to throw up, but it keeps coming and he keeps gagging. His head is burning and his throat is burning and he just wants to die.

            He doesn’t hear anyone approach. He can’t hear anything beyond his continual retching and the pounding of his heart in his chest and the blood flowing through his brain.

            He doesn’t have a chance when someone walks behind him and injects him with a needle.

            He doesn’t have a chance when they forcefully turn him over and pull something black over his head.

            He doesn’t have a chance as he struggles to breathe and loses consciousness all at the same time.

                  The Soldier comes to in a dark room. There is the sound of whispering and a soft beeping. He attempts to sit up, but he is bound to a cold metal surface. He uses all of the strength he can muster, but to no avail. He can’t move.

            Something about this is familiar. He doesn’t know what it is, maybe the cool metal against his cheek, or the tight bonds around his arms, torso, and legs. Maybe it’s the cold, damp room, but whatever it is, it isn’t good.

            His heart rate begins to rise drastically. He can hardly control his breathing. He’s trapped and he can’t move and he can’t escape and he has nowhere to go and no idea where he is or what these people want.

            His panic is offset by the creak of an opening door and a single light bulb turning on.

            “You shouldn’t have run,” is the first thing that he hears and it turns his blood to ice.

            He recognizes that voice. He doesn’t know how, or where from, but he does.

            “You should have come back immediately.”

            He doesn’t deign that with an answer.

            “I’m sorry.”

            Something inside of the Soldier breaks and all he wants to do is scream and cry and feel someone’s throat in his hands.

            “We won’t hurt you.”           

            Slowly the bonds are being untied. The man is careful about it. Taking his time to make sure that the Soldier won’t react.

            The man sits him up, a hand on his bare back as he leads him out of the room and into a hallway.

            “This is for your own good.”

            He’s pushed into a poorly lit room. In it are men and women in dirty lab coats that may have once been white, but not for a long time. In the center of the room is a machine hooked up to a chair and cold fear begins to set in.

            He’s drugged up and weak and hardly has any strength to resist as they lead him into the chair and slip something into his mouth.

            The last thing he remembers is screaming as every cell in his body rips apart.

            “Steve” he thinks, before blacking out from the pain.

                  Steve is in his own apartment, which is a welcome change of pace. Not the one he had when he was working with S.H.I.E.L.D., that one was destroyed, but a new one. Sam had suggested it and Natasha thought it would be a good idea.

            He isn’t sure if he agrees.

            He flips on the lights to find a dark figure standing in the middle of his bedroom.

            He drops his duffel bag onto the floor because he doesn’t need to see the face of the man to know who he is.

            “Bucky,” he breathes out in disbelief. He had just spent months looking for the man standing in his bedroom.

            He takes a cautious step forward as Bucky whips around, something silver in his right hand pointed at Steve.    

            “Bucky?” he asks as he realizes what it is, taking a sudden step back.

            He doesn’t have time to think before the sound of a gunshot is ringing in his ears and there’s a burning in his chest. He looks down to see a spreading red stain.

            Bucky walks forward and leans over him.

Steve looks him in the eyes. This man has never met Steve before. There is no recognition, no tell of them ever having crossed paths.

                  “I’m sorry,” Steve tells Bucky.

                  Bucky turns away and walks out of Steve’s sight, leaving him to die.

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Steve: Bucky no

Bucky: Bucky yes

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I am CaptainSoldier trash: a fan fiction chapter 2

So the formatting's a bit off, cause, ya know, tumblr, but apparently this wasn't just a oneshot. joy. sorry it's a bit shorter than the other one, but this means ill probably be writing more chapters, sooooooo. idk.

also, in the file steve's looking at, you'll see some names you may or may not recognize. those are some testaments to the winter soldier comics, the amazing ones that made me cry like a baby. i know some of those people didn't ACTUALLY die, but whatever. also, the file number for black widow is the date and issue she was first introduced, same thing for lukin. and the suspected kills is the same for bucky. idk why i did it. i just thought it would be cool. 

okay, enough babbling. you didn't come here for my stunning personality. on with the show!

Steve is drowning in papers. Files upon files of events with suspected Winter Soldier involvement. He has to check and recheck each one, cross-referencing methods and details with one another, not to mention the information Natasha’s given him.

The floor is littered with piles, organized carefully so as not to get mixed up. Sitting in front of him is a single vanilla folder. It holds every single 100% certain fact they have. In it there is one sheet of paper.

  Alias: Winter Soldier

Name: Unknown

Height: Unknown

Weight: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Place of Birth: Unknown

  Works as an assassin for Hydra since [unknown]. For speculation and intel, see Black Widow Red Room confession [196452].

              Confirmed kills:

                          Howard and Maria Stark

                          Jack Monroe and Sharon Carter

                          Aleksander Lukin [see file 20045]

              Suspected kills:

                                                [See file database 19411]

                        Steve glances up to the clock on the wall. It’s two in the afternoon. The cramps in his legs from sitting cross-legged on the floor are a testament to how long he has been sitting here. To be honest, he isn’t sure when he had woken up that morning. The sun was up, but in the summer that doesn’t say much.

            A knock at the door pulls him out of his daze. The person enters before he has any time to respond

            “Any leads?” Sam leans against the doorframe.

            Steve snorts. “Too many. There are a million places he could be, all of them far away.”

            “How long have you been at this?” Sam raises an eyebrow and waves to the organized chaos surrounding him.

            Steve just shakes his head.

            “Well, take a damn break then make a list of likely places with the information you have. Remember, he’s probably confused, so it wouldn’t be somewhere especially specific. Or maybe that’s why it would be specific.”

            “You’re very helpful,” Steve deadpans. Sam gives him a wry smile and walks out of the room.

                The Soldier doesn’t dare go back to the museum again. He doesn’t dare go anywhere more than once. Abandoned brick buildings in the middle of metropolitan areas. Silent cabins surrounded by a city of trees and wildlife. He’s running away from a trace of lives he may or may not have lived. He isn’t sure what he sees thinks, feels, is real or fake. To be honest, he isn’t sure of anything.

            He’s so scared. He’s scared of Hydra finding him. He’s scared of what’s left of SHEILD finding him. He’s scared of himself.

            If he’s being honest, which he very rarely is, the only logical thing to do is to find the only person who has any semblance of stability. But he’s scared of that too, because one wrong move and he could be right back into the chair and not remember who he is again. One wrong move and he won’t get the chance to find out who he is. One wrong move, and he may just kill the only person who matters, and he could never live with himself.

            The prime directive has always been Steve’s safety, so if that means he has to give up everything (nothing?), then so be it.

            It’s far better to just stay away. Far, far away where he can’t hurt anyone.