hit the scene, kill shit, we in the murda bizness.
"No matter what it takes"
Hellfire and Disease (Apocalypse AU)
"Yes… yes of course." He flushed slightly at how rushed his words were. But he’s been alone for a long time, he’d be crazy to say no.He cleared his throat once before continuing. "We can stick together but first, I had come out here for a supplies run. Would you be willing to help me wit that?"
A smile breaks so widely across Steve’s face that for a moment, Steve actually wonders if his face is going to break apart. It has been so long since he’d been able to smile in this time. He nods fervently when Bruce asks if he could help with a supply run. “Yeah, of course, you’re smart doing it in the sunlight and around these parts. Most of the city was evacuated before things headed south so there isn’t much zeke running around in these parts that you have to watch your back for.”
Round and Round | captainspangly
Does it Hurt? ∞|captainspangly|∞
A groan slipped out at the experimental touches. The commander wasn’t really a terribly vocal man in bed, but this was their first time together. He wanted Steve to know exactly when something felt good for Edmund, and wanted the opposite to be true too. He even smirked at his lover’s reference to their first meeting. “Oh, there’s no denying you’ve been cheeky. And still will be, I reckon,” Edmund half-growled as his hands squeezed at the captain’s rear.
While Steve’s mouth and hand are busy making Shepard let out a strangled sound of approval and rock into the captain’s hand, he does just as Steve suggested. The resulting smack to one cheek probably stung for a little bit, but it wasn’t hard enough to do damage. This was for pleasure, not a desire to do harm.
"I think we’re wearing a bit too much. Care to handle that, Mr. Rogers?"
Steve hisses at the smack to his ass but it’s not a pained sound so much as it is one of pleasure. “Now, commander, I’m not sure that you’re inspiring much good behavior with such a weak swat as that. How am I ever supposed to learn anything, huh?” He teases before moving to ever so slowly remove the button in the commander’s pants from it’s purchase and then gently tug the zipper tag in another much too slow motion. All the while he’s wiggling his ass back temptingly. “For all the times you wanted to swat me one where everyone could see just to knock me back a size or two, here’s your chance. Am I your bad boy, commander?”
He didn’t notice him there. He looked up growling, his eyes feral. Why did this guy keep calling him Bucky? But there was something about this man—something that made him feel all fuzzy and warm inside. Yasha hated it. But there was a small part of him—a small part that was continuously growing that yearned for his touch.
There was a change in his eyes from cold to warm for a brief second. He looked confused and moved his hand so that it was closer to Captain America. Though he turned away. Perhaps holding his hand would help.
Steve could see the internal conflict flickering in Bucky’s eyes as they switched from something feral to something more like the friend he knew and loved. Steve watches as Bucky reaches for him for a moment before he turns that hand inward again, away from Steve. Steve decides to combat the stubbornness that Bucky was exhibiting by taking Bucky’s hand in his own with or without his permission. “It’s okay,” He repeated again gently. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here. It’s Steve.”
Everything Changes | captainspangly | postwar
To be quite frank: Edmund was worried.
Not really a common emotion for the commander. There was pessimistic, irritated, downright murderous, and in private there was affectionate, caring, loving. Sometimes protectiveness was both public and private, but had a tendency to astonish people who only knew his more negative moods.
But this just wasn’t right. Once again, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling Steve against him while postponing his physical therapy session. Once again, Steve had started the day by lurching for the bathroom (thank God for the invention of attached bathrooms) and groaning as his stomach rebelled against him. And this had been going on for a few days now.
"Just relax, sweetheart." Edmund kissed the top of his husband’s head. He tried to hide his worry, but Steve could probably see right through him after almost six years of marriage. "I’ll get you some crackers in a minute."
Fuck. It was really tempting to try getting Steve in to see a doctor. But the one doctor Edmund really trusted was on deployment for another month still.
Steve was likely extra whining with how his stomach was treating him when it hadn’t been just years but decades since he’d ever experienced an illness at all. He’s not supposed to get sick, that’s what the serum did and he couldn’t help but panic that maybe, just maybe this was a sign that the serum was finally running out and Steve was going to age and die. It was nerve wracking because now, he finally had a life where he didn’t want to die. He had Edmund to live for and it was a pretty sweet life they led. He had never been happier at any moment in the years and years he’d been alive.
Everything now ached and he wasn’t able to keep much down until it became later in the day which was a rather peculiar symptom but a symptom none the less. Steve didn’t like it and he whimpered as Edmund adjust him on the bed. “I love you,” He reminds the other. “Don’t get too worked up about it, alright? I’m going to be just fine.”
He looked over at the man and accessed him quickly. He sat back in his chair and his blue eyes just stared, but not in awe, more in a patronizing way. ❝No. I don’t do well with even the people he does send. I prefer to work alone,❞ Sherlock answered. He lifted his head slightly. ❝You’re Steve Rogers, the science experiment. Has anyone ever fiddled with your blood before? Trying to figure out what makes you well, Captain America?❞ Stupid question really. He was sure someone already had but maybe they would let him try. His quick eye could see more in one hour than one thousand scientists could see in one hundred years.
Steve had been warned that Mr. Holmes would want to examine his blood so he wasn’t surprised when Sherlock mentions it and he’s definitely not the first to ask Steve about it. He doesn’t very much appreciate being called a science experiment even when there was plenty of truth to the statement. He tries to keep any of the reaction to that from his face but he was sure with what he heard about the man before him, he’d be able to deduce that he’d upset him anyhow. ❝I am, though, I prefer that you not call me a science experiment if it’s not too much to ask.❞ He sighs heavily at irritation at himself because he’s probably just inspiring more irritation from the other for voicing his discomfort with the other’s choice of words. ❝As for people asking to fiddle with my blood, you’re certainly not the first to express the desire, no. Though, I’ve not actually allowed anyone to do so. I’m not exactly a huge fan of needles.❞