#shieldwield

[whiitewlof-blog]

     @shieldwield if Bucky Bear becomes a thing...

[thawedpatriot]

@shieldwield - liked for a skinny steve starter!

“i told you already, i’m fine, sam. i feel fine.”

[whiitewlof-blog]

@shieldwield​ hit the heart.

Don’t be bitter, Buck. Be happy for him. Sam is, he can tell. But when Steve came back older, with a wedding ring, with a whole life behind him that once again didn’t include Bucky? This vile little serpent coiled in his chest like an angry child, and he’d been forced to smother it and smile with fake joy. Steve deserves to be happy, he’d told himself. But if he went back, did he find Bucks family? Did he find them and tell them? Did he try to stop any of the torture Bucky had gone through? Of course he did, a voice tells him. Then why isn’t anything different? A darker one counters.

It doesn’t matter. Get up.

It’s a new morning, and they have unpacking to do. Bucky and Sam decided to room up, as they’re already partners on most missions and neither of them are in the right headspace to live alone. So he wakes, handles his morning business and then goes into the kitchen - still piled high with boxes - to start the coffee. The sound of footsteps doesn’t even make him look up. He grabs an orange off the counter. “Wilson,” A toss of the fruit is an offer of breakfast, and to test his senses this early in the morning.

“Coffees brewing.”

[metalarmmantm-archive]

@shieldwield​ said:

✿  five times my muse almost texted yours, and the one time they did. 

It’d been 10 days, 5 hours, 21 minutes, and 30 seconds since Sam and Steve had left him in the apartment to go off on their latest mission. It had been 10 days, 3 hours, 55 minutes, and 15 seconds since he’d last gotten a text from them. 

[text]: Don’t die out there, or I’m going to stretch all your clothes out for nothing.

He deleted it and instead turned on the tv to one of the animal documentaries they watch after a bad nightmare. The penguins are sliding down the ice and he laughed softly, his hand instinctively going to his phone. He’s typed out a message. 

[text]: These penguins remind me of you. Stupid and can’t fly for shit.

His thumb hovered over the send button, before he quickly deleted it and stood to go to the kitchen. He busied himself with making himself dinner, his plate overflowing with food. He’s sitting at the table, the other two chairs empty while he shoveled the food in to his mouth, barely tasting it. He took the last piece of cheesecake from the fridge and set it on the table. 

[text]: Too bad there’s no more cheesecake for you guys. It was sooooo good.

He decided against sending it, again, and simply ate the cake, staring at the wall. He’s finished and moving to the sink in order to clean the dishes he’s made, opening the dishwasher to see it full.

[text]: It was your turn to empty the dishwasher, asshole!

He shook his head and deleted the text, simply beginning to unload the dishes and placing them where they go. He filled it back up, turned it on, then grabbed a mug from the cabinet in order to steal one of Sam’s teabags. 

[text]: This tea is shit, are you sure it’s not just grass?

He shook his head and deleted the message before curling up in the armchair with his book and tea. It’s almost an hour later when his phone beeps and he checks it to see Sam’s name and the words, on our way home. make sure to have some clothes on. 

[text]: Like hell I will. I’ve sat my naked ass all over your bed and pillows. 

He definitely doesn’t add the winky face. But he does hit send and feels a little lighter knowing that he’s not going to be alone for much longer.

[whiitewlof-blog]

“you are already turned on ~?”

It’s been a while. Though it felt like only minutes ago they let the apex of their tension take over, he knows it’s been longer by the tingle of his kiss-swollen lips. Bucky hasn’t just made out like a teenager since… well, since he was a teenager. Not to mention, he’s well over a hundred years old at this point, and hasn’t had any action since World War Two. A break for breath had allowed him to give Sam his neck, access to continue as he pleases. For only a moment, before the bulge down below catches the other mans attention.

A huff -- indignation, embarrassment combined - and a roll of his eyes fails to hide the flush of color to his cheeks. It’s not a blush. He’s just flushed from their activities.

“Hundred year old man, remember? You’d be a little sensitive too if you hadn’t had action in eighty years.”

Shut up, Sam.

[warcrimed]

"Heard you were dummy thicc."

send a rumor your muse has heard about mine. / accepting.

“ well, “ he waves his hands before letting them drop to his side. the universal gesture of “what can you do!”“ that seems to be what all the hubbubs about these days. what about my other features— when was the last time someone complimented my eyes, or my steady hands ? “

[crimsonscorpii]

💖

SEND 💖 TO HOLD MY MUSE’S HAND - @shieldwield

      It was... something he should pull away from. That was his initial thought when he felt fingers weave inbetween his own and grip tightly. Touch was his worst enemy at times when the tidal wave crashed over and he saw wires, tubes and HYDRA instead of the safety of a friends bathroom. In his panic the sink had crumpled under his hands and likely alerted Sam to the fact that Bucky’s shower had taken a turn for the worst. 

      Fighting enemies that didn’t exist, pain that was a phantom. He had been struggling for air as the panic tightened his chest when that hand appeared. Bucky hadn’t heard Sam approach, hadn’t heard anything he said but the moment he felt his hand, everything crashed to a halt in a way he had not expected. He could register the broken sink and the spraying water, could see the concern in Sam’s eyes and the dampness of their clothes.

            “Sam--,” he gasped, gripping his hand back as tight as he could. He didn’t push him away this time, instead Bucky reached for Sam’s shirt, took a fistful and pulled him closer, burying his face in his shoulder. He couldn’t say anything, and knew he didn’t really have to, not with Sam. But Bucky didn’t let go of his hand, and didn’t plan on doing that any time soon.

[warwintered]

❝ ooh. somebody knows … karate. ❞

deadpool starters // accepting!

   “– do you ever know when to stop talking?” There’s a short glare as the last body hits the ground, taking a moment before stepping over it and heading back towards the other. He briefly gives a sarcastic smile, roughly hitting Sam’s shoulder with the back of his hand as a sign for him to follow. “If you don’t quit talking, i’m going to teach you it.”