#like pre-serum steve

[doyelikehaggis]

Definitely not a new concept but I propose: Sciles dressing up as Captain America and Winter Soldier for Halloween.

also, a more casual option:

[wotvagyok]

My thoughts are currently consumed by Trans Steve starting T and getting all kinds of thicc because of it.

At first noticing the changes, how he’s filling out in all the right places, the little stretch marks on his new belt, on his arms, his thick love handles. It’s all dense and doughy, he’s so sturdy now, so chonky.

And then a couple of years in, a few self discoveries later, sat between Bucky’s thighs, so stuffed and bloated and round, Bucky’s hand in his skin-tight and torn boxers, pressing into him, holding another bite to his lips.

Steve’s lax, pressed against his chest, head lying limp against Bucky’s shoulder. His brain his empty, eyes glazed, as he opens his mouth to keep eating.

“Good boy.” Bucky whispers to him as he bucks his hips in desperation. “Gettin’ so fat,” a hand slides down to the blushing swell of his stomach, sitting in his lap now, and rubs soothing circles across the taut skin. He reaches for another few fries and holds them to Steve’s mouth when he finishes chewing. Steve takes a gasping bite. “Such a good, greedy boy.”

[incorrect-marvel-because-why-not]

Pre-War Established Relationship Stucky

Steve: You look good in that shirt. Bucky: You know where else I'd look good? Steve, zero hesitation: My bed. Bucky, at the same time: By your side- wait, what?

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 8

@flufftober

Prompt(s): Chopping/ piling wood

Pairing: pre-serum!Steve Rogers x Lumberjill!Reader

Warnings/Tags: FLUFF, kind of a meet-cute?, mentions of coughing/retching/nausea, pre-serum Steve, descriptions of asthma attack, muscled reader (ofc), nicknames (sweetheart, love, dame,)

Summary: When Steve has an asthma attack on a training drill and gets lost, he meets a friendly axe-wielding dame who takes his breath away. Word count: 1.6k

I hope you enjoy! Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated ���� Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

A/N: I though of lumberjill!reader as soon as I saw the prompt. I know we see a lot of lumberjack!Steve or Steve chopping wood (bc of that scene in AOU) but as someone who did a whole project on the Lumberjills of WW2 in school - I couldn't NOT make a fic about one. We will just ignore that Steve never went to the UK pre-serum though x

I've linked articles here and here on the history of lumberjills that I recommend reading if you have the chance - Love, Grem x

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The ship over to England had been awful. The ship's interior was mostly barren and icy cold, which had triggered Steve's asthma. He'd tried hacking quietly in a corner, left to his own devices trying to sketch, but it wasn't long before he was on the deck spewing over the side of the ship - much to the amusement of some of his brother's in arms.

Within the last two hours of the trip, the waves became rockier and more volatile. Despite the size of the ship, it was still knocked about mercilessly in the sea. Now, it wasn't just Steve whose stomach churned. However, the rain outside had everyone stuck to the confines of the ship; soldiers too close, too hot and too sick to complain.

And that was only the beginning.

The rain never seemed to stop, even after leaving the ship. Everything Bucky had said about Britain in his letters was right; it was just grey and muddy. Steve's boots sank far into the mud, slipping and squelching along trying to keep up with the thrum of tired soldiers. Still, despite the sickness, despite the rain, despite everything; he was right where he wanted to be.

The rain never let up.

It was cold and humid, running in the mud through a forest trail somewhere in England. Steve was soaked to the bone and the wet, damp humidity was playing havoc with his lungs. At first, he tried powering through it. Pretending it wasn't happening as his chest tightened and he wheezed for breath.

When he couldn't ignore the tightness around his throat anymore, he'd already fallen behind. He hated this. He hated being sick all the time, the suffering, the pain. The struggling to keep up with everyone else around him. His chest tightened again and it felt like his lungs were being twisted and wrung out like a damn dishcloth.

He was supposed to be training under a British Colonel this afternoon. At least that's what he'd told himself. One who had a reputation for churning out the best soldiers. This drill was one of the first tests all of the privates and officers were put through to see if they could make the cut. Steve had stupidly tried to convince himself he could have done it. Again.

He wasn't sure where he'd turned off to either. He'd stopped to retch and catch his breath and when he'd started to jog again he'd managed to somehow take a wrong turn. Which wasn't helped by the fact he felt another attack brewing in his lungs, and had to slump against a tree to take deep, ragged breaths and cough violently, until it passed. Thankfully, the rain had stopped. "You okay?"

Steve was too busy coughing to respond but his bleary eyes looked up to see someone towering over him with an axe over their shoulder. He sucked in a harsh breath, still desperately trying to breathe. The person leaned closer, voice low and cool:

"You a nazi?" The axe slipped from their shoulder, the blade glinting viciously in the light. Steve's eyes widened and he threw his hands out quickly blinded by panic.

"American!" He wheezed, coughing again. "American!"

His palms fell against the forest floor, damp moss and twigs biting into his skin. The figure leaned back, re-adjusting the axe onto their shoulder. "Oh, sorry sweetheart. Must'a given you quite a fright."

Steve looked up again, blinking away tears from the coughing fit. The voice, now that he was paying attention, was a little too high to belong to a man. In the gentle sunlight that cascaded through the trees, Steve's mouth fell open as the sun caressed your face. You were dressed in overalls and boots caked in mud, some even on your face, with your hair tied behind you. You're smiling down at him, taking in his expression, but seemingly not offended. You looked... beautiful.

"Never seen a Lumber Jill before, have ya love?" You chuckle, offering him your free calloused hand. Steve looks at it dumbly before taking it and you tug him to his feet. You don't expect him to be so light, and he doesn't expect you to be so damn strong; so Steve ends up colliding into you, mumbling flustered apologies.

"S'alright," You chuckle, patting his shoulder as he wheezes again. Steve's face is red from coughing and embarassment. He feels worse now that there's a beautiful dame in front of him and he can barely speak without coughing and sputtering, not to mention the fact that you're helping him. "Come on, let's get you some water."

You jerk your head behind you and lead him to a stump with a backpack leaned against it. There's some neat piles of freshly chopped wood, tied together tightly with black ropes. You place your axe against the stump and rummage in the bag for a moment before handing Steve a flask of water. He mutters his thanks again, his eyes drifting over you as you stand tall again, hands on your hips. You're about his height, maybe a little smaller, but where Steve is lean and thin, you're slender and muscular. Steve can't help but stare at the way your biceps strain at the plaid shirt sleeves you've rolled up.

What a dame.

"Thanks," Steve hands back the flask and you take a swig yourself. "You said you're a - lumber Jill?"

You nod, screwing the top back onto the flask. "One of many in the Women's Timber Corps."

"The -" Steve blinks at you. "Women's Timber Corps? I haven't heard of-"

You wave your hand, cutting him off. "I didn't expect you too. Just another thing we're doing while the boys are away." You give Steve a wry smile, picking up your axe and chopping logs in two with ease and he finds himself feeling a little tongue-tied all over again. "How come you're all the way out here?"

Steve begins to explain the events of the morning and you listen with rapt attention, nodding your head in between soft grunts as you raise your axe. Once he finishes, you look over at him, free hand on your side again and leaning into your axe hilt.

"It's quite a ways back to the barracks by foot." You comment and Steve shrugs.

"I'm a soldier. If I can't even walk back there, I'll be sent home for sure. It was hard enough to get in in the first place." He grumbles, rolling a stone under his foot miserably.

"Who said anything about walking?" You quip, smirking at him. Steve's eyebrows shoot up into his cap when he looks over at you. You nod your head to your right at a dense patch of woods. "I've got the car through there. Let me finish this last pile and I'll drop you back on the way home."

Steve can't quite believe his ears, or his luck, but his momma raised him to be a gentleman. "I couldn't ask you to do that."

You raise an eyebrow at him, smirking slightly. "You're not asking, love. I'm offering. I've got to drop off some piles to the barracks anyway."

Steve grins softly at you and his eyes sparkle. "Let me help get the piles onto the car - at least."

"Sure. Thank you." You continue to chop the last of your logs, watching Steve closely as he dragged two of the four piles of wood past the treeline; huffing and puffing as he went. You had to bite back a grin more than once. Watching him soldier on was incredibly endearing. Although, the look on his face when you joined him at the car towing two of the log piles behind you at once was priceless.

The drive to the barracks was filled with chatter as you and Steve discussed your lives before, and during, the war. When you found out he was an artist, you demanded he bring you sketches when he was next in the town, to which he'd excitedly agreed.

Pulling up outside the heavily trodden gates, you killed the engine and looked over to Steve with a smile. "You better head inside whilst the weather holds."

"Yeah and thanks," Steve gushes, carefully climbing out of the car. He picked up one of the piles in his arms, leaning back to take the weight. You could just about make out the tip of his cap behind the logs and stifled a giggle.

"Don't worry about it, love." You call back to him, seeing his legs wobble a little in the mud and his ears go pink. Your own heart flutters at the sight. "Go and take those straight to Colonel L/N."

"Why? Do you know him?" Steve calls back over the roar of the engine as you restart it. That was the name of the colonel he had been so convinced he could work under. The one who had the reputation oof being one heck of a scary guy but had his soldier's respect. Steve had been unsure how he'd be reprimanded for getting lost, let alone failing to finish the drill. Thoughts of training under the colonel had pretty much dissipated.

"Yeah, he's my father." You chuckle, watching Steve almost do the splits, somehow managing to keep a hold of the wood. "Trust me, you won't be in trouble. If you tell him I sent you."

You drive away once Steve is back inside the barracks, knowing that when your father returned home that night, you would probably get an earful about sending Steve to him. However, you knew that once your father met him and saw that endurance, that drive, that spark you saw; he would help Steve become the best soldier Steve could ever hope to be.

[chaossmagic]

Sometimes I think about how, realistically, the damage Bucky sustained to his body (not just his brain, but his entire body) is probably just as severe if not worse than the damage done to his mind during the years of abuse and torture by Hydra.

The guy should have all the chronic illnesses of an 80-year-old at this point, and of course I know it's ~superhero media~ and we have to suspend disbelief a little bit, but the brain damage he suffered alone should have been enough to permanently disable him, even with the serum acting as a buffer, not to mention everything else that would result from improper medical care, long periods of starvation/inadequate nutrition (almost all liquids, most likely - easier and quicker than getting him to eat solid foods), constant injury, and the effects of being dragged in and out of cryo intermittently for decades.

Not to mention the drugs they probably used to keep him compliant and docile, to not feel any pain, to stop him 'becoming erratic' as they put it (i.e. remembering who he was and trying to fight back).

Of course, we don't see any of that because that's not good superhero TV/movies. But I still think about it and try to incorporate it into the way I view his character.

[feraltwinkseb]

November 27, 2016 - Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates Source: Steven Tee/Sam Bloxham- Formula 1/Formula Motorsport Limited via Getty Images

[fizz-pop-thwip]

I reckon Steve is clumsy asf

When he's in battle he's so focused on how he's moving his body and what he's doing he isn't clumsy whatsoever. We always see how he's hyper accurate and often achieves exactly what he wants to.

However, I think if he's in a relaxed environment or maybe he's particularly tired it's almost like he forgets his body takes up more space then it used to. He bashes into things when walking by them, hits his head on low hanging things, goes too far when he's reaching for something, tripping over his own feet.

The team teases him for it because honestly it is crazy how someone can be so calculated in a fight but then bash his foot on a table because he wasn't actively thinking about how long his legs were.

[artisfaction]

source: B. Dylan Hollis

[buckys-arm-and-rios-dagger]

If Kid Bucky "I'm not properly processing my grief so I'll fight anything that moves" Barnes from the comics and kid Steve "little guy from Brooklyn that was too stupid to back down from a fight" Rogers from the MCU met they would either be best friends or try to kill each other

[klarioncall]

My most fondly held AU concept is still Reeve Dodgers. It goes as follows:

MCU Steve Rogers, guy who never quits, is quietly sent home after the serum "fails." It did not, in fact, Fail. Steve Rogers, 5'1” Super Soldier, 6 time recruitment office applier, makes up a new fake name and Joins the Army anyway. This escalates.

Includes such aliases as:

Reeve Dodgers (a legend that continues to Captain Tuttle like heights in the Army even after Steve’s “death”)

SHIELD Analyst Grant Carter (supposed cousin of Peggy Carter, actual bane of his deskmate’s existence)

Abraham Buckner (normal New Yorker, The local librarians think he recently escaped a cult)

Dodge (Clint’s new vent buddy, because he so small no bullets can ever hit him)

Captain America (Tony hired him for R&D and then made him a suit)

[tangledstarlight]

anyway in my hunt through my drafts i discovered that i posted my first jatp fic on 20th october 2020 which means this year its turning 4!!!! will the little julie and luke who live in my head awake from their slumber to let me finish even a single wip in the next 10 days to celebrate? probably not, but boy would it be nice !

[brooklynbred]

[ CS. STEVEN GRANT ROGERS. ] do not reblog unless mutuals.

[autumnrory]

i'm fine with fic having steve be unenthusiastic about double dates but i kinda hate them always having his dates be flat out rude and uninterested in even talking to him like just because we saw one date in catfa we're just gonna have every woman he interacts with not even be polite to him?

[metaknightsoul]

When the mental health dropping so bad after getting a full time job that you get an AU that specifically pops up when you are at your low point

[dreaming-in-color]

I just wanna point out that one scene in catfa where stevie offered his date something to eat and she just gave him this look, like girl he is OFFERING YOU FOOD. WITHOUT YOU HAVING TO ASK OR ANYTHING. and she just...turned away?? do you understand how fucking ELATED I would've been if my date had offered me food without me having to ask?? like ??? your hand in marriage?? right now??

[feraltwinkseb]

April 7, 2017 - Shanghai, China Source: James Moy / Alamy Stock Photo