Chim

Saka stays curled up as much as he can, too alone and in pain to put up a strong face, keep his spirit. Nothing feels like him anymore, every day he is taken and prodded and modified, and he can’t- He can’t take this.

His body is not his own, his freedom is gone, his life is over.

And he is cold. Always, he is freezing cold.

What else is there to do but curl up and wait in dread for the next day to come?

But today the guards escorting him are stopped long before they can bring him to the usual lab.

“Doc doesn’t think she can do much else with him,” the scientist barring their way says, barely even looking at Saka. “She says give him to the Harbinger. He’s been restless lately, he needs something to distract him.”

The name rings a bell. Harbinger. The infamous monster no one seems able to kill. The first one to appear during the Night, and the last to go. The one that can make people see things that are not there, that can twist limbs and break bones with a mere gesture. The only beast that resembles a man, even though he is anything but. 

One of the guards snorts. “Sure thing,” he says, and makes Saka turn around to go back to the cell sector - a different wing from the one he’s been kept in up to now. 

“What happens to the ones who are given to him?” Saka barely recognises his own voice after weeks of only using it to scream and beg. So rough and weak, so flat. The fear is hidden deep inside. 

What could the Harbinger possibly want with him if not tear him to pieces, first his mind and then his body?

The guards seem amused he dared to speak up. 

“Good question.” They exchange a glance. One of them grins. “I bet you one hundred he’ll last... eh, maybe three hours.” 

The other one shakes their head. “They say the thing’s restless. Either it tears him apart as soon as it sees him, or he gets to lose his mind. In that case... one hour. Tops.” 

Such carelessness in speaking of such dark topics. How many people were led to that containment cell before him? 

“Boy’s sturdy,” the first guard says, patting Saka’s shoulder as he makes him stop in front of an extremely reinforced door. “I still say three hours.”

In front of them, a series of clicks announces the opening of the reinforced door,  delicate mechanisms releasing one after the other. There is another identical door a few feet in, creating an air-locked room in-between. 

Saka’s arms are restrained behind his back, his ankles bound together with a short chain. But guards are careless. They never realize all of them have lost hope.

He turns around and slams his head into the first guard’s nose. 

He’s dead anyway. If he’s shot now it would be a mercy.

Pain explodes in his skull as the other guard hits him over the head with the butt of their pistol, jerking him backwards by his shirt.

“You little-” The first guard spits, holding their bleeding nose, trembling with rage. “I hope that thing keeps you for longer than three hours! Throw him in!”

Before Saka can blink past the dizziness and pain, he’s shoved forward and through the opening. Immediately the first door starts to close; only when it is completely sealed does the second one open, its mechanisms just as complex. 

Fallen on his knees, hands open on his thighs, Saka turns watery eyes to the ceiling and prays.

There are monsters in here that go far beyond any nightmares man is capable of conceiving. The only mercy is that so many of them are too bloodthirsty to make painful deaths last.

His breath shudders out of his lungs and he squeezes his eyes shut, a sob caught in his chest. Please. Please.

He is so tired. He wants to die while he is still at least a shadow of his former self.

Silence falls as the second door folds away.

Perfect, heavy, oppressive silence.

A whisper of fabric.

And then Saka’s body is seized by an invisible force and lifted high into the air, brought forward.

He goes rigid, fear choking him.

Once, instinct would have made him struggle to get free. But now he is too used to unbreakable restraints, to his limbs being immobilized no matter how great the pain and how unbearable the restlessness.

He opens his eyes and stays perfectly still. It’s always so much worse when you don’t see it coming, no matter what they say.

What he finds is a well-furnished room. He can see a large bed, a sofa, an armchair. The walls are covered with hung up paper scrawled with charcoal drawings of... buildings, maybe. Alien buildings, impossible architecture. The floor...

The floor is made up of tiny pieces of stone and glass, a sprawl of colors forming the strangest shapes that make no sense, that represent nothing. A section of it has been dug up, the pieces lying in a pile around the shallow hole.

It takes him a moment too long to see him. He is so unnaturally still, dark blue clothes so similar to the blue of the bed linens.

He sits there, cross-legged, staring at Saka with those glowing blue eyes he saw only in the pictures and recordings. His unnatural charcoal-black skin is exposed, and so are the glowing cracks running all over it.

This being looks exactly like what it is: a man pumped full of chemicals and energy until he burned up from the inside out.

He must be completely insane. Is he in constant pain?

And what relief is there but to take it out on others? Monsters like them are made to savage and kill.

“Hi,” whispers Saka, his voice still so rough and ugly, just one more thing he doesn’t recognise. “I’m sorry.” He blinks away the tears.

The Harbinger blinks.

There’s the horrible sound of metal twisting and being torn apart; Saka’s restraints fall from his limbs. It doesn’t really matter, he’s still suspended a meter from the ground in a telekinetic grasp.

Until he isn’t. Until he finds himself on the ground, on that strange textured floor that is one big mosaic.

The Harbinger tilts his chin down slightly to keep looking at him, and a lock of blood red hair brushes the line of his jaw.

Saka wants to beg him to make this quick, but the Harbinger has been given furniture, has been given the means to draw and entertain himself, which means he retains human intelligence.

Begging would just encourage him to make this last longer.

So he looks down, chin still up in the face of his end, and admires the pretty colors of the mosaic. He wonders how he cleans the grooves between the little stones. Blood must be hard to get out.

Maybe he likes it better that way.

“What for?”

The voice comes suddenly, but it’s not a voice at all. It’s a thought, placed in Saka’s mind and made to resemble a voice. This being really is beyond any human scope.

And he has still to move a single muscle, has still to get up from the bed. Not that he needs to.

He might not move a muscle the entire time he is killing Saka. 

“You’re just like me.” A single tear falls from his eye and crosses his cheek, dampening the corner of his mouth. “You're just like me.”

He was someone once. He only wants this because they made him want this, no matter what he thinks now.

They didn’t deserve what happened to them, and no one is coming to save them.

The Harbinger is silent. He shifts just slightly, his clothes swishing in a gentle whisper.

The telekinetic grip comes back, lifting Saka off the ground and bringing him closer, until he’s hovering above the bed - and being placed on it, just shy of the Harbinger’s body.

Darkened fingers rise to wipe away that tear, and perfect warmth brushes against Saka’s cheek.

Saka’s breathing falters and his eyes widen.

He bites his lip. So warm, the Harbinger is so warm and he is freezing, always freezing, never not in pain.

His sigh is a pathetic, trembling thing. “They’re not happy with how I came out,” he tells him falteringly, terrified out of his mind and yet somehow glad he gets to speak to someone, no matter how insane. “I’m not monstrous enough.”

The venom is not enough. The fangs are not enough. They want violence and horror.

“Mh.” The Harbinger passes a thumb under his eye, studying it. The Harbinger has glowing eyes, Saka’s reptilian ones might look normal to him. His other hand touches Saka’s wrist, the back of his hand, feeling the scales.

“I think you are beautiful,” he finally murmurs. “Don't cry.”

Saka doesn’t stop worrying about his eyes being plucked out.

Not being able to defend himself is- well, the norm at this point. It’s normal, and he is still just as scared every single time.

“Are you going to hurt me, Harbinger?” What a stupid question. The guards were so kind to tell him exactly what he was going to be given to. He looks down once more, not a single spark of hope remaining. “I just want to be free.” Free me.

“I do not feel the urge to do so.” The Harbinger tilts his head slightly, regarding him. “Do you want to die?”

His hand is still so close to Saka’s cheek, almost cupping it. If he just moved a little to the left he would feel that incredible warmth all pressed up against his skin.

Saka aches for it. He doesn’t remember what it means to be warm.

“I don’t want to be in pain anymore.” He dares to lift his eyes enough to meet the Harbinger’s, so blue and unnatural.

He can’t help but notice that he looks so young underneath all the unnaturalness. He doesn’t look like a feral beast.

The Harbinger’s lips twitch, no amusement reaching his eyes. “The pain will fade once your body adjusts to the changes,” he comments. “How long has it been?”

Those cracks all over his skin must hurt. They pulse sometimes, like they’re still an open wound.

It’s been more than a decade since the Harbinger’s first appearance. This man has been a prisoner since Saka was a boy.

“A few weeks since the first changes.” Nothing in comparison to him. “They keep adding things.”

He blinks. “Kept adding things. It seems they have given up.”

No more being strapped down, no more horror at the idea of waking up changed, different.

He is supposed to die in here.

“And I don’t- think it will,” he adds, keeping himself still, so still. “They made me cold. Everything is cold.” 

For some reason, the Harbinger seems exasperated. “They never learn.” His fingers twitch, and that’s all the warning Saka gets before the telekinesis is on him again.

Before he knows what’s going on the covers are being pulled back and his shirt is being torn off.

“Dirty clothes,” the Harbinger mutters, the words only for Saka. “Why do they even bother?”

Saka is laid down on his back, head on the pillow, and the Harbinger moves to cover him completely with his body. The bedcovers go over them, creating a warm cocoon.

For long seconds, Saka stays stiff as a board.

He- The Harbinger is...?

Once the heat penetrates his skin and finally warms him for the first time in weeks, he goes limp.

A shocked, wounded sound comes out of his throat. “Why?” he asks, helpless, even as he clutches at the monster and holds him closer, greedy, unable to stop. “You- They said you would…”

“Oh, I know they take bets.” The Harbinger hums and allows Saka to keep him close, presses down on him with his solid warm body. “You were lucky. I am restless, not angry.” He places a hand on Saka’s head, fingers going under his hair, lightly gripping the roots. “Relax. I am not killing you.”

Saka hides his face in the Harbinger’s shoulder, so miserable he will take comfort even from the one he is so afraid of, and starts shivering and shaking. His chilly body is slowly warming up, becoming more pliant, letting go of the pain and discomfort.

Even the shiny patches of scales are slowly gaining some heat.

“Thank you,” he breathes. “Thank you, I- You’re warm.”

“You’re getting warmer, too.” The Harbinger tucks the covers around him a little better. “You’ll see the pain will lessen soon.”

“It already is.” The realization that he is feeling better for once finally hits. Someone is actively helping him.

He reaches for the monster’s face and moves his hair to the side. “Will they take me back now? They don’t seem to like it when I’m not in pain.” A very neutral tone for such a helpless question.

With a thoughtful hum, the Harbinger leans into the touch. For all his might and terrible powers, he must be always alone too. “I suppose they will leave you here a while longer to see what I do with you,” he guesses. “The previous times they waited until my routine check-up to take the bodies, so they will probably do the same with you. If that’s true, you still have days to go.” 

Another hum. “To decide if you want to die.” 

It wasn’t supposed to be a choice Saka got to make. It should have just happened.

If he chooses it, it’s suicide. It tastes so bitter on his tongue, acidic with fear. But the Harbinger here is proof that his torment has only just begun.

Years. He nods quietly and cups the back of his head, going back to hiding.

“A few days,” he repeats. “I won’t bother you.” 

“We’ll see,” the Harbinger says, but it doesn’t sound ominous. There’s almost the slightest hint of humor in the words.

He presses down on Saka and gently caresses his naked arm, helping him warm up.

“Why are you helping me?” Maybe he shouldn’t ask. “It’s nice of you. Why?” Now Saka understands why their captors never let the prisoners interact with each other. It’s too easy to retain their personalities, to find a kernel of contentment in simple interaction.

“You were in pain.” The slightest tug to Saka’s hair. “And I wanted you to stop cowering.” Which, by the sound of it, was incredibly annoying to the Harbinger. “There are cameras everywhere in this room, and in the bathroom too,” the supposed monster tells him. “But no microphones, since I do not speak. There are some in the antechamber, however.” 

The insistence in using telepathy makes more sense now. “Thank you,” says Saka again, and means it for everything. “I’ll be careful.”

He’s a person. The Harbinger is a person, not a monster. “Is there anything I can do to help you not get angry? I’d rather not know what happens then.”

He can- imagine.

“Don’t try to ruin my things.” A basic rule of hospitality, something that’s supposed to be a given, but nothing is taken for granted here. “Don’t attack me.” A moment of consideration. “Try not to bring dirt anywhere. I like being clean and having clean things. This includes the floors as well.” 

Since Saka is not sure where he would even find dirt, that’s probably not going to be an issue. “I will be a polite guest.”

He burrows a little better under the Harbinger, the permanently tense line of his shoulders finally easing. He has knots for days and a headache that will never go away, but this helps so much.

It’s making him feel human again. A bed, a warm body against his own, a conversation... All perfect things.

I can’t go back to my cell. He tries not to think about that. About how dangerous and destructive giving a prisoner crumbs is.

He slides his hands beneath the Harbinger’s clothes and holds on. His skin is scorching hot. If he were to take those clothes off and press himself against Saka, chest to chest, it would feel incredible.

“You do that,” the Harbinger murmurs, and caresses Saka’s cheek. “Rest, if you like. There’s not much to do here.”

If Saka closes his eyes he can imagine this man as one of his friends, or as a random one night stand willing to cuddle him.

He doesn’t have to be a monster. They don’t have to be in a cell, wasting away their time, waiting for the next horror to begin.

He presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth so he won’t feel the fangs, and stays still so he won’t feel the weirdness of the scales.

The adrenaline crash and the poor, poor sleep of the last few weeks have left him deeply exhausted. Surrounded by this warmth, he has no chance.

I [Heart] You | 1,138 | writeonclara / @writeonclara

Summary: “Steve’s been hit with a curse,” Natasha said. She said it calmly, so Bucky didn’t immediately go flying out of the apartment to tear apart the Tower in search of Steve. Then again, Natasha would probably be calm if New York City spontaneously burst into flames. He lowered the coffee pot and squinted at her. “Of course he has,” he said. He felt, abruptly, exhausted. “What is it?” “The witch kept ranting about sexual repression and archaic moral principles,” she continued blithely. “It’s not like you to prevaricate, Romanov.” Natasha pressed her lips together. For a moment, Bucky thought she might start laughing. “It might be easier just to show you.”

Small Truths | 1,311 | crackdkettle / @crackdkettle

Summary: Five times Steve shrank and one time he didn't change back.

Van Goghing Slightly Mad | 1,541 | Xanoka / @adventures-in-mangaland

Summary: Damage control. Now would be the perfect time for damage control. “I’m sorry for calling your painting porn!” Well shit. Bucky is a Security Guard at a fancy art gallery and is absolutely not crushing on the Tiny Blonde Guy who frequents the Modern Art section. Nope. Not at all.

unlocking | 2,636 | glim

Summary: Written for Shrinkyclinks Fest for the prompt: Winter Soldier Bucky is recovering and trying to learn about/integrate into society. So, to kill two birds with one stone, he goes to the library. Steve is the librarian in charge of the history section.

Winter, New York City | 3,688 | unicornpoe

Summary: Between the rough sheets stretched rumpled across the bed, two boys curl like a set of parentheses around each other and their breaths mingle arhythmically in that dark place behind Bucky’s eyelids. It’s still night until he looks; it’s still night, and he doesn’t have to move. But then: a shift, Steve’s head rolling a little where it rests on Bucky’s chest, soft-fine hair rasping against Bucky’s collar bone. A quiet, wet cough. And Bucky opens his eyes.

Love in an Elevator | 3,785 | leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) / @leveragehunters

Summary: Bucky wanted M&Ms. Steve just wanted to go home. Neither wanted to get stuck in an elevator. (Warning: may contain traces of peanuts, banter, and some fluff.)

The Bucky Barnes Guide to Household Management | 5,506 | CryptoHomoRocker / @feelingsaboutgaysuperheroest

Summary: "Steve doesn't even notice at first, is the thing." Or: Steve is unobservant, Bucky learns to be good at things that aren't killing people, and knitting happens.

Stitch Me Up Right | 5,954 | sirsable

Summary: The Avengers have a new fashion designer and suddenly Bucky has a lot of problems with his suit.

Nailed to the Wall | 645 | Catchclaw

Summary: “Shhhh,” Bucky says for the dozenth time. “If you’re that afraid of getting caught, you should probably keep your mouth shut, huh?”

Snap Him Up | 647 | Catchclaw

Summary: “Rogers, those do nothing for you.”

You're Back | 779 | Catchclaw

Summary: He dreams that he’s spread on Bucky’s fingers. Not the blood and bone ones. The metal ones; the cold, killing kind.

Mistake on the Part of Nature | 1,274 | idiopathicsmile / @idiopathicsmile

Summary: Steve takes in Bucky's betrayed look and Sam's confusion, follows Sam's gaze to the pile of mangled fruit in the trash can. Sudden comprehension fills his face. "Oh," he says. "Bucky found out about bananas."

Resist / Delay / Obstruct | 1,321 | ladivvinatravestia / @ladivvinatravvestia

Summary: Who uses their mug shot as their dating profile pic? Steve Rogers, that’s who.

then we shall need each other | 1,425 | tsunderestorm / @tsunderestorming

Summary: In which Bucky returns to Steve, just not in the way he'd expected.

Phases of the Moon | 2,359 | Catchclaw

Summary: It’s not so much that Steve Rogers is a virgin, it’s that he’s a virgin.

They Say That Time's Supposed to Heal You | 4,939 | untune_the_sky

Summary: The thing they don’t tell you, don’t warn you about, when you make that first connection – when you feel somebody else’s breath in your lungs for the first time – is that it fucking hurts when that’s gone. They don’t warn you, because it’s a difficult thing to comprehend; it’s a difficult thing to understand.

One-Armed Pushups | 5,033 | k8erwaul

Summary: Saw one of those "AU prompt" posts on tumblr and this one stuck out to me as perfectly appropriate for Stucky: “i came to the gym to work out but holy god i can’t stop watching you do one armed push ups that’s so hot” AU

Just let me (kill) love you | 5,041 | Chim / @chim-aceyliz

Summary: The Winter Soldier has a mission: killing Steven Grant Rogers. Too bad the whole universe is getting in his way.

"Lunch" | 5,140 | cleo4u2 / @cleo4u2 & xantissa / @xantissa

Summary: Bucky Barnes, the feared Winter Soldier, is working hard at becoming a person again. He doesn't understand a lot of the modern world, yet, but he Avengers help him with that when they can. They don't always get it right.

Something Fishy | 5,254 | leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) / @leveragehunters

Summary: Steve meets Bucky. Bucky meets Steve. Some things are meant to be. But even when something's meant to be, you might need to work a little to make it happen. (And that's made a tiny bit harder when your universe, out of all the infinite multiverse, managed to get things so completely mixed-up.)

When You Come Home | 5,978 | unicornpoe

Summary: “Nice to meet you, Bucky,” says Steve. He lets go of Bucky’s hand, and it doesn’t feel like a retreat, but it does feel like a promise: like the end of a sentence left uncapped, hanging there for one of them to finish later. There’s a cold wind blowing, but Bucky feels warm. “Please don’t try to come in here,” Bucky says. “There are alien corpses. It’s really gross, and really dangerous.” “Alright,” Steve says, and he’s not quite laughing aloud, but one lingers in the corners of his smile, in the way his blue eyes brighten.

special delivery | 6,049 | glim

Summary: It's not that Steve's bad at taking care of himself when he gets sick; he just wishes he didn't have to all the time. At least he can order most of what he needs online. That's some small comfort, that he can have soup and ice cream and everything else brought to his door.

asthma attacks, fire escapes, and chai | 6,657 | beemotionpicture / @beemotionpicture

Summary: It happens because of his asthma of all things. As soon as he feels short of breath he starts rooting through his messenger bag for his inhaler. Steve has a moment to think aha! and then fuck, before he's losing his grip on the thing and it’s skidding across the pavement and into an alleyway. He freezes when he realizes he’s not alone. Steve hears a muffled sound coming from behind the dumpster, but that’s not what makes him look; no, it’s the metallic scent in the air which, with a creeping feeling of dread, he hopes isn’t blood. He looks. It’s blood. And there’s a man sitting right in a puddle of it, leaning heavily against the brick wall and clutching his side with a metal hand.

re(dis)covery | 7,024 | glim

Summary: Wherein Bucky Barnes, SHIELD operative, discovers he has feelings for the nurse down in medbay and rediscovers a few more things about himself along the way.

Blind Date | 8,294 | AggressiveWhenStartled & quietnight / @quietnighty

Summary: “I just had the best idea I have ever had in my life,” Bucky said, punching straight through a doombot with his metal hand and clutching the napkin with Steve’s phone number in the other. The formerly (somewhat) dark and peaceful corner of Central Park was now lit up with energy beams, flashing robotic lights, and panicked astronomy buffs running for cover. Oh well, it wasn't like they'd been going to see many stars what with all the Christmas shit everywhere. “The bar you are setting for that is not high,” Natasha told him over the coms.

Brooklyn | 8,749 | togina / @toli-a

Summary: "Captain America, what's your stance on gay marriage?" Everyone knows that, by now. Everyone but Bucky.

Here comes the feeling you thought you'd forgotten | 8,946 | bangyababy / @bangyababy

Summary: So he eats his cake and sips his coffee, occasionally glancing up from his phone to Steve. If Steve sees him he’ll give him a little smile, which he tries to return, but judging from the look on Steve’s face, it’s probably not working. Still, Steve doesn’t stop smiling at him. It makes him feel almost…real. Today, he thinks, he can be James. Recently escaped from Hydra, the Winter Soldier stumbles into a bakery where he meets the worker, Steve. Being around Steve helps him remember things about his past, makes him feel a little more like a person, so he keeps coming back.

The Long Road to Lynbrook | 9,306 | monicawoe / @monicawoe

Summary: Six years ago, Bucky left the hamlet of Lynbrook to battle against the Knights of Hydra. Steve has missed him ever since, and refuses to believe he's dead. One night, Steve finds a frog at the well— a frog with one metal arm.

Breadth Requirements | 9,438 | SkyisGray / @skyisgray

Summary: Steve's never met his Psych TA in person, but he's a little obsessed with their snarky, flirty email conversations. Steve's never made any headway with the hot guy who sits in front of him in Psych, but he's a little obsessed with his mouth.

if you keep reaching out (then i'll keep coming back) | 10,517 | unicornpoe

Summary: “Do you mind if I work a little, Bucky?” He says Bucky’s name as often as Bucky says Steve’s, like maybe he likes the feel of it, the music of it—like maybe it’s at the top of his list, too. He’s using strong-looking hands to pick up the satchel he’d been carrying when he came over, lifting it up and sitting it on his lap. “I’m an artist, and I’ve got a couple commissions I hafta finish up here soon.” Artist. Of course he is. “I don’t mind,” Bucky says. He doesn’t. He likes the idea of sitting across from Steve while he works, sipping his coffee, finishing the book he was reading, and maybe looking up and meeting Steve’s eyes every now and again. His shock-blue eyes. His eyes framed with golden lashes, like seagrass. The Winter Soldier, and a man made of spun-strong gold.

Wrap Battle | 10,604 | GoodbyeBlues

Summary: "Hey, fuckface!" Steve called out after him. "What name do I put on the order?" The man stopped short, turning and looking at Steve from under a cocked brow. "Do you talk to all of your customers this way?" "Yes," Steve nodded. It was the truth. The man grinned, his straight white teeth flashing and the creases framing his eyes deepening with the motion as he continued to gaze unflinchingly at Steve. "You can call me Bucky."

Nokken Wood | 10,616 | leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) / @leveragehunters

Summary: When Sam's friend needs a house-sitter for his place in the country, Steve jumps at the chance. Six months rent-free to do nothing but draw and paint and wander the countryside, looking for inspiration? It was like a dream. But when he gets lost in a storm and nearly falls into a pond he starts to rethink the whole like a dream aspect of life in the country. And when a red-eyed, sharp-clawed, silver-fanged creature rises out of the darkness, Steve is one hundred percent certain the dream's morphed into a nightmare. ...until it gives him a cup of tea.

miles to go before i sleep | 11,910 | Avelera / @avelera

Summary: Steve finds Bucky outside of the Smithsonian and invites him home.

Under the Skin | 18,447 | leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) / @leveragehunters

Summary: "Brooklyn, like I said," he replied, taking Steve's hand and shaking it, then he paused, tilted his head, and said, "Actually, since you're staff? It's Bucky." "Bucky," Steve repeated, feeling oddly touched. "Always Brooklyn in front of the clients, though," he added seriously. "No, of course," Steve promised. "Good to meet you." "You too," he said, glancing down to where Steve was still holding his hand. Steve let go with a sheepish smile. "Sorry." Working in a brothel wasn't somewhere Steve ever expected to find himself, but then he'd never expected to quit his shitty corporate hell-job to apprentice as a tattoo artist. Great as it was, his apprenticeship didn't come with a pay cheque, so eating and keeping a roof over his head meant finding a job that paid actual money. Which was how he'd ended up as the night receptionist in a brothel, accidentally holding Bucky's hand, with no idea Bucky was going to turn out to be something else he'd never expected.

Decoys | 19,540 | littlerhymes / @popliar

Summary: The serum makes Steve stronger, but not bigger. Instead of a superhero, he becomes a spy.

Something New, Something Gold | 20,385 | Nonymos

Summary: Bucky Barnes, retired black-ops operative and Archeology professor, spends a long weekend in the Brazilian rainforest toying with his own mortality and puzzling over the mystery of Steve Rogers. (Also, like, the lost city of El Dorado. But seriously, Steve Rogers.)

The Day the World Went Away | 21,323 | 74days / @74days

Summary: Bucky Barnes has survived the Virus that devastated the world, leaving him road-tripping over America dodging violent gangs and trying to get through another year. When he manages to find a radio station still broadcasting, he's not aware that the voice on the other side of the country will soon become the driving force behind his actions.

This Side | 35,321 | orphan_account

Summary: Bucky Barnes restores antiques for a living. Steve Rogers saves the world. Bucky has no reason to believe their paths will ever cross, right up until they do.

Graphology | 55,177 | leveragehunters (Monkeygreen) / @leveragehunters