dysmorphics | it's you and me up against the world, it's you and me

Entry tags:

it's you and me up against the world, it's you and me

I don't need a parachute, baby if I've got you
Baby if I've got you, I don't need a parachute
You're gonna catch me,
You're gonna catch if I fall
( 🎶 )

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

◜continued from here◞

Steph made a soft sound that was half a snort, half a strangled sob. "Maybe not, but he has the choice to say enough is enough and just... stay the hell away." That would probably hurt more, the fact that she wasn't good for him, in spite of their very real, deep feelings. "I think I'm too broken, Buck. Too broken to love, and to let myself be loved."

Bucky had been through much worse, there was no competition there. But the sort of broken she was seemed to be the different kind, not of the body or mind but of the spirit. Maybe she had died in the ice in '45, and whatever came out was a specter of the woman she once had been. In a way, she was glad her younger, less broken self was with him. She could love him better. She could make him happier.

Still, she wanted to be loved. So desperately, in fact, that she ached for the smallest of touches. That was why she squeezed Bucky's hand back, and didn't let go. "I don't expect you to forgive me. But thank you, for being here. I'll be outta your hair soon." For good, if she had her way. It was probably for the best.

It might have been odd, but comforting and supporting Stephanie Rogers was so deeply ingrained into Bucky that he couldn't help continuing to do just that for this Stephanie Rogers. Yes, she was the reason his Steph was gone. Yes, she had made what seemed to be a series of absolutely idiotic decisions. But... Dammit, deep down she was still Steph.

Besides, he was used to Steph making idiotic decisions. Maybe not world-changing ones, but dumb ones.

Sighing, he pulled his arm out of her grip, but instead of moving away from her he did the opposite and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Steph, you're an idiot," he told her with a roll of his eyes. "But you're not unlovable or anything like that."

Was he mad at her? Absolutely. But even though she was different, he still didn't like to see her hurting. Bucky had been doing that enough for the both of them.

Bucky pulled his arm away and Steph thought, this was it, this was the part where he walked away, and she would lose not just the Bucky of her timeline but this one too. It didn't matter that he had his own version of Steph; he was still her best friend, and, in a way that was both confusing and reassuring, she still loved him.

But then he placed her arm around her shoulders and she practically melted into him. Thankfully, enough time had passed for the sun to have fully set, and as Coney Island wasn't as bright in the future, the darkness gave them enough cover on the boardwalk.

You're not unloveable. She supposed he could say that because he'd only ever known her as the sickly, scrawny kid who Definitely Did Not Start Fights she couldn't win.

So she didn't say anything to that. But also because part of her wanted to believe it, that even after everything, he could still love her.

"Lemme buy you dinner?" she said instead. "For old times' sake."

◜continued from here◞

That was the thing about the small, quiet ones, right? They could be very surprising. (Not that Steph had ever really been quiet, exactly.) Even she was surprised with herself, but she chalked it up to the fact that she was with her best friend, and she could be herself without any judgment. (Just maybe with some inevitable ribbing.)

Bucky never once told her to stop though. He stared, he touched, he teased, he made her feel good. It was hot enough watching and feeling him suck on her fingers; then he was toying with her clit and she couldn't stop her hips from shifting.

She didn't put up any resistance, then, when he urged her closer to his head. She realized it was actually difficult to watch him from this angle, but the feel of his warm breath against her skin made her shudder with delight, and forget about her misgivings. Then it was his tongue, and she moaned. "Oh, darling," she breathed, both impatient yet loving the way he took his time to taste the skin on the inside of her thighs.

Bucky started with her inner thighs, peppering them with simple open mouthed kisses and letting his beard scrape gently over her skin. But Steph had said she wanted her thighs marked, so those kisses slowly morphed into nips and gentle bites. Here and there he focused on one spot or another so he could take the time to suck a red mark into her skin--which wasn't difficult with just how pale she was. His eyes stayed closed most of the time, but every so often he'd open them to look at what he'd done, then smirk a little as he looked up at the woman squirming on top of him.

Small and skinny, tall and curvy, it didn't matter. Bucky would always think she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

Eventually, after a lot of teasing her thighs, leaving them covered in love bites and beard burn, he kissed and licked his way to her wet folds. He moaned when he tasted her and tugged at her hips again. She had been the one to mention wanting to sit on his face, and that's exactly what he wanted her to do while he set about pleasuring her with his lips and tongue.

She felt so much bigger than she had the last time he sat with his arm around her, but it wasn't bad. Just different. But the way she relaxed against him wasn't all that different from how they'd sit, quietly listening to radio dramas or reading in the evenings some days.

Shit, looking back it really was no wonder why people would question if they were an item or not, was it? Not that he'd ever done anything to discourage their closeness.

Bucky honestly would have been fine to keep sitting there quietly, watching the reflection of the moon shine over the ocean with her, but she brought up food. "Sure, we can go eat," he started, but made no move to get up. "But I'm paying, especially if it's for old times' sake." He was always the one who paid growing up, after all. Not because that's just how things were (it was only partly because of that), but also because he was aware that his family was better off financially than Steph's.

Besides, outside of bills and necessities, Bucky wasn't spending much of his paychecks anyway. "What are you in the mood for?"

Steph hesitated. She should've expected Bucky would want to pay, considering the time period they were in. For a moment she'd forgotten about that.

She also just remembered she had prepared to travel to the past with some of the future's small luxuries, and of course enough cash to comfortably cover a single woman in this era. She didn't want him to pay for dinner mostly because she now ate thrice as much as she did back then, and while he had a steady paycheck, he earned at the same rate he had to spend. Her cash smuggled from the future though? Worth a fortune.

"Actually, if you're not really hungry yet... I can cook? You know, for old times' sake." She elbowed him lightly. "You pay for the ingredients, I'll make you some future-flavored dishes." He would still be paying, but much less. And she wouldn't have to worry about causing a scene by eating so much.

Did she realize the invitation meant bringing him to her apartment? Yeah, she did. But there was nothing to it. He was in love with the Steph who disappeared. She was only the shadow of her past self.

Oh, Steph was definitely squirming. Her thighs were sensitive, and Bucky was very thorough in the ways he was marking her. She liked it though. She had never allowed — or even considered — anyone to share this kind of intimacy with her, so in love she was with him that only he would ever be permitted. That, and she thought some sexual acts were more intimate than others. Anyone, in theory, could fuck a woman with their cock. But this? She needed to want to be marked, and he needed to want to do it with enough care so it wouldn't hurt and instead feel good.

So she squirmed and groaned and shivered, and tried to watch him as he went about his business of pleasuring her. "Fuck, baby," she moaned, "I don't think I can close my legs after this."

When he finally put his mouth on her, it was like he could literally drink from her with how wet she felt. And while she actually had no clue what it would be like to sit on his face, she didn't hesitate when he tugged her down — and almost immediately let out a loud moan. "Oh, God," she gasped, which was funny because it had been years since she'd been any sort of religious, well before her Ma had died. She leaned forward, gripping the headboard and squeezing her eyes shut as he drew more loud moans out of her.

Unable to stop herself even if she wanted to, she started to grind into his mouth. His tongue wasn't large and hard like his cock, but it was nimble and slipped easily between her folds that before long she was frantically rubbing against it. "Buck, baby," she whimpered needily, continuing to seek just the right angle that allowed his tongue to travel from her entrance to her clit and back, more than content and ready to come on his face just from that.

Well that was an idea. Steph had always been a good cook--or at least she'd trained his taste buds to think she was--so why would he pass that up?

With his free hand he pulled his watch out of the pocket and opened it up to check the time. "Yeah, we've got time before the shops close," he stated simply, then gave the picture a look, as always (more out of habit than anything just then), and snapped the watch closed and tucked it away again.

When they stood again, Bucky offered her his arm instead of just putting hers there like he had earlier. Once she took it he started to walk with her. "Where all do we need to stop? And you wanna do this at my place or yours?" It wasn't until just then that he didn't even know where her place was. And she'd never been to his place, either. Not his current one. Not that he was aware of.

Steph glanced at the photo on Bucky's pocketwatch, no longer surprised it was a photo of her — but by which one. She didn't remember that photo. When had he taken it? She couldn't tell without prying and really looking. That brought an unexpected pang in her chest, and she regretted having left her timeline at all.

Thankfully, they were moving before she had the chance to start spiraling again. Though it hadn't been her intention when she suggested it, cooking was hopefully going to save her from doing something stupid tonight. Like try to drown herself.

"Mine," she answered when he asked whose place, if only because she had the seasonings and the spices. There were also a few other things she'd brought with her that he might be interested in seeing; that was if the war hadn't burned the science fiction nerd out of him anyway. But there were also her sketchpads. She already had several, even if she started from scratch when she traveled back.

Probably the most surprising thing about her art would be how she had some in color, and how Bucky's eyes were the correct shade of steel blue.

She gave him the list of ingredients she still needed, as well as her address, which, while in Brooklyn, was in one of the seediest neighborhoods. "We might have to get you a hat," she said. "I know several ladies on my floor who would try to steal you away if they recognize you."

Even in her world, she and the Howlies had been popular. They were basically the Avengers of their era, with books and films and merchandise and everything. She never saw it firsthand though, as she'd gone under before the war was officially over. Seeing it now was kind of surreal, and while Peggy was popular, New York — particularly Brooklyn — was Sergeant Barnes' home turf. He was their golden boy, their claim to fame.

Bucky couldn't hide the frown at the address. He recognized the street was in one of the rougher areas of town, but if Steph was the Winter Soldier now she could handle herself.

But that didn't mean he had to like it.

Bucky laughed softly at the comment about other ladies and shook his head. "If that happens, I'll just tell them I ain't interested," he said, a tiny grin pulling at one side of his mouth. He'd never actually been interested in any of the women who tried to flirt with him before, and he was even less receptive to it at that stage of his life. Sometimes, he even forgot to be polite about it, which always somehow seemed to get back to Howard and Peggy, then he'd get an earful about the optics or some shit. It tended to go in one ear and out the other, though.

"I can pick everything up and head over if that's what you want me to do. Meet you there." Bucky didn't know if she'd need to clean up or anything. She'd always been tidy before, but she was used to him dropping by all the time before. "Or you can go with me. Either way."

"You don't sign autographs?" Steph couldn't resist teasing. "And here I was gonna ask you to sign my poster." She had, in fact, managed to procure a poster; the USO tours hadn't been the only way America raised funds for the war effort.

She shook her head at Bucky's offer to just meet at her place. "Nah, I can go with you. I can carry you and the groceries if I gotta," she teased, if only to hide her fear that he might not show up once he'd gotten time to think about this whole situation. Maybe once alone he'd realize how angry he actually was at her and just leave her to wait for nothing, and she didn't want to be alone. Not after he'd given her the comfort of his presence, of his touch.

She regretted not having Asgardian booze, because it might've been a way to make him stay the night. Then she felt guilty for wanting to manipulate him into staying with her. Maybe she really was selfish. Maybe she did come back to ease her guilt and be with a version of Bucky that she knew.

"God, no," Bucky said quickly at the suggestion of signing autographs, even pulling a horrified face at the suggestion. "Some of the guys are into all that, but I've never liked it." Sure, he was their hometown guy, but at least New York had never been known for it's overly friendly residents. Nosey, sure. Angry and loud, yeah. Known for sweetness? No.

Besides, he was doing a job, what he should be doing to help people. Didn't mean he needed to be best friends with every stranger to do it. Howard liked to call him a surly bastard and Bucky didn't exactly try to stop him.

"Hey, I may not have had what you did, but I can carry a sack of groceries," he added with an eyeroll. Yeah, he knew she was teasing, but he'd seen what Peggy could do. If Steph was the one who went through that experiment instead of Peggy, then he was aware that she could carry him around if she wanted to. And, okay, maybe that was something he wasn't going to think about too much.

"Why don't we hit the shops on this end of town, then just take a cab to your place?"

"Not even for me? I signed your poster." It was hard to tell from Steph's expression if it was true or not. And if it were, Bucky had no idea she didn't only have posters as Captain America, but also pin-ups as Lady Liberty. Peggy somehow managed to avoid being roped into the shows; Steph assumed it was because she was already an agent for an SSR, unlike Steph who Dr. Erskine had picked up like a stray.

Agreeing to the plan, they started to hit the shops, and at the first one she wondered, supressing a smile, if this was what some people felt when they hung around her. Heads turned, but this time they looked straight past her and at Bucky.

They walked away with a hefty discount on their purchases and a heartfelt, "Thank you for your service, Sergeant Barnes, sir," from the shop's owner.

"Not mine," he said with a perk of a brow. "I'd know if I had a poster of you." Of course he knew what she meant, but the point still stood. If there had been posters of Stephanie Rogers, he would have snatched them up, both to taunt her with and also to frame.

But he ignored the stares outright, instead just focusing on Steph and gathering the proper items from that shop, then tried to argue with the owner about how he didn't need a discount and he should pass that on to someone who did need it instead. But, the shopkeeper wouldn't have any of it, so Bucky had to settle for "accidentally" leaving an extra dollar on the counter as he picked up the bag and led Steph out of the store, holding the door open for her and giving the man a nod as they left.

At least he'd been nice to the owner. He wasn't rude in his argument; he just... didn't want a discount when other people were still trying to get their feet back under them.

Thankfully, the butcher shop was only a couple of storefronts away. Not thankfully, the same thing happened there, too. Right down to him leaving extra money on the counter.

"Do we need to stop anywhere else, or was that it?" he asked her as he thought back to the ingredients she had listed off earlier.

Bucky moaned against her flesh as he continued to work her, doing his best to go back and forth between her clit and her opening, just wanting to make her feel as good as he could.

But while his mouth worked her, Bucky let his hands--both hands--roam over her. Mostly her thighs, hips, and ass, as those were the easiest places for him to touch, but he genuinely did try to touch her everywhere he could, even letting his fingers drift down her crack a couple times just to make sure he touched her there, too. Bucky had waited entirely too long to be able to touch her to not do just that.

And while he did all that, Bucky couldn't resist opening his eyes every so often to look up the slender body above him, catching on those small but perfect breasts heaving with her breath before moving on to her beautiful, flushed face. Based on her reactions, Bucky was pretty sure he was doing something right.

"The liquor store? We can't get drunk but wine will taste better than juice." Steph wished she could get drunk, especially tonight, with this Bucky who she thought she knew but actually didn't. This wasn't a situation she'd ever imagined either of them being, their roles almost practically reversed. Heck even their heights were the other way around, not that people seemed to notice because anywhere he walked in, he became the biggest person in the room. Was that what fame did? Was that what happened to her, in her world, too? Did that make him feel small, or cast a shadow on him when he was normally the light? It was a lot to ponder, and she didn't want to think about, but rather to enjoy this evening with him.

Nearly the same thing happened at the shop, except that the owner's daughter later came out the front to bat her eyelashes at him and try to get him to talk. Steph pretended to have seen something she was interested in, stepping away to pick up a wine bottle and read the label.

It was all Bucky could do to not openly roll his eyes at the woman. Instead, he just ignored her and followed Steph over to where she was obviously pretending to be interested in whatever kind of wine that was.

"Did you want to get that one?" he asked when he came to a stop beside her and placed his free hand on her back. He hoped that would be enough to make the woman back off, but even before the war it had been hit or miss, with women not always taking the hint when he was out with Steph.

Before the war, it could be annoying and borderline insulting, the way they would brush off Steph's existence or ignore the fact that he clearly wasn't interested. Since coming back to New York he downright hated it.

Maybe he should get a hat. Maybe even a mask or something.

Edited (wording. then more words.) 2026-01-05 08:36 (UTC)

Another thing that was different? The woman took a look at Steph, went oh and backed off. Steph had seen that reaction many times since she'd been changed by the serum, but not like this. Sure, there had been women who eyed Bucky during the war, especially when she and the Howlies would wind up in some pub after an op, but he'd been practically glued to Lady Liberty's side, and no woman had dared to compete with Lady Liberty.

Witnessing it now, in a world where she wasn't Lady Liberty, was a little surreal. She was almost, almost tempted to gloat. You can't ignore me now, the part of her that once had been small, forgettable Stephanie Rogers wanted to say, but it wasn't very nice.

So she did the next best thing: lean into Bucky when he came up behind her and rested a hand on her back. Inspired by the imported Bordeaux wine she held in her hand, she answered, "No, it's fine. This must cost a fortune," in French, which was a hell lot more fluent now than her passable high school French.

Okay, so maybe she was feeling a little spiteful and vindictive. She'll shrug it off and say it was just for laughs later.

Bucky did roll his eyes at that, but there was that slight grin on his face again at the same time. "Still can't speak French, you know," he said, shrugging one shoulder. Bucky recognized the word fortune, at least, but that was only because it was the same in both languages.

Out of the corner of his eye he did see the other woman walk off, but that didn't stop him from removing his hand from her back so he could take the bottle out of her hands. "But I'll still get it if you want it." And with that, he turned, walked to the counter, and set it down.

With her hands gripping the headboard, Steph was leaning over just right for Bucky to see her face and watch just how good he was making her feel. In the morning light, with her loose blonde hair framing her face, she looked some kind of angel, but like if there was an angel for passion or lust or something. There was a deep flush and sweat on her skin. Her blue eyes were blown wide whenever she opened them or otherwise squeezed shut or half-lidded with her eyes rolling back in delight. And her mouth never quite closed as she moaned and whimpered and swore and called him by name or some endearment. Some moments she would be open-mouthed with her tongue moving as if they were kissing or she was following along to the way he was licking her.

"B-Baby, don't stop, please," she begged, her hips thrusting more aggressively as she chased her release. She rather liked calling him baby, she realized, because of the irony or him being so much bigger than her. Also he looked tough and dangerous as shit on the outside, but he let her sit on his face without thinking it wasn't manly or it was degrading for him or anything like that.

So achingly close, she let go of the headboard to reach down and try to spread her folds open a little more, thinking it might help them along. Whether it was that or because he'd sensed she was close and was also working her more aggressively himself, it felt so so good that she tipped her head back, squeezed her eyes shut, and let out a loud, drawn out moan, trusting those strong hands groping her ass to keep her from falling.

Eventually, with an even louder cry, she shuddered, letting go of herself to grip his hair instead as she rode the wave of her pleasure. Her legs tried to close but couldn't with his head in the way, and she felt the hot rush of her wetness. Fuck, it was so messy. But she couldn't feel sorry for it even if she tried, instead getting yet another wicked thrill from the thought of him being wet because of her.

Steph glanced behind them in time to see the woman walk off. "Thank you, darling," she said sweetly, still in French, and loudly enough for the rest of the shop to hear. Hey, she didn't want to drop her cover until they were outside.

Once they were out the door, she grinned at Bucky. "You're welcome, dumbass. Still don't think you need a hat?" She would happily pretend to be his date or whatever, but she couldn't let him know just how much she enjoyed the idea.

"I know, I know," Bucky said, rolling his eyes as he led her to the edge of the sidewalk. With his free arm, he flagged down a cab, then held the door for her to climb in first. He even settled into the back seat with her and listed off her building's address before continuing. "I've just never really liked them much. They feel weird."

He usually only wore hats when he had to. Or when he was trying to convince himself that he wasn't scared as shit about shipping out the next day. Hell, he didn't even wear one in the war, and they spent a good bit of time running around cold ass forests and mountains.

Still, he might have to suck it up at some point. But he wasn't going to admit that defeat out loud just yet.

Steph didn't need to tell Bucky not to stop, because he hadn't been planning on it. But it did feel good to hear her beg like that, and he also liked all the pet names that were coming out of her mouth. Not to mention the way she moaned his actual name. (Bucky, not James. Never James.)

But keep going, he did. His hands were all but kneading at her ass since he loved the feeling of being able to grope at her like that. He would have probably been doing something similar to her breasts if it wouldn't have been such an awkward angle from below her the way he was.

And when she held herself open a bit more for him, he took the opportunity to press his tongue that much further into her. He would never understand why he'd hear guys in the past talking about how they'd never do this for their girls, because Bucky? He loved it. The taste of her, the way she moved over him, the way he could take her apart with just his mouth, it was all things he would definitely encourage revisiting again and again.

However, when Steph's hand moved to grip and tug at his hair he moaned against her, learning in that moment that he liked when she did that. Then, when she came hard because of him, releasing that additional rush of wetness onto his tongue and--lets be honest here--his face, he moaned again. With Steph, he didn't mind the mess. He liked it, even. A lot. But he suspected that he would get as messy or dirty with Stephanie Rogers as she wanted him to.

How much he enjoyed everything they'd been doing was even evident in the way his cock kept twitching and leaking in his pants. Bucky hadn't even touched it, hardly even thought about it as he lapped at her folds and sucked gently at her clit, teasing her through her orgasm. And he wasn't in a rush to touch it, because he was pretty sure she had him so thoroughly turned on and worked up that he wouldn't last long if it was given any attention.

"I know. You won't even wear a helmet in the field." Steph knew this was true for both of them, having fought closely with her world's Bucky, and having practically stalked this one through the duration of the war. Having taken up sniping herself, she understood how headgear could get in the way, but there was the irony of being vulnerable to headshots when you were supposed to be the one taking them.

For all of New York's bustle, it was still quiet compared to the next century. It wasn't the best era to live in, but she could appreciate the good things.

In the cab, they sat in companionable silence. She kept her gaze out the window, but she was aware of their knees touching. Neither of them made any move to pull away, and she was relieved that he seemed to want her presence just as much as she did. He could be angry at her all he liked and she could take it. Pushing her away, ignoring her, giving her the cold shoulder — now those would hurt.

If the cabbie was surprised by their destination, he made no indication. But it really wasn't a good part of town, the sort where pretty women like her could get sexually assaulted in her own apartment or roped into prostitution rings or doing drugs. It was, however, also the sort of place where a capable do-gooder like her would thrive, and he was probably already coming to his own conclusions while various women greeted her as they made their way up the stairs.

"Evenin', Gracie," a bleary-eyed young woman who looked like a waif greeted as she smoked on the stairwell. She glanced at Bucky, eyes widening in recognition, but she did not leer at him as she would've any other attractive man. Instead she turned to Steph with the same expression she wore when she saw them come up the stairs: respect.

"That's gonna kill you one day, Marta," Steph greeted in turn, in a somewhat motherly tone.

"Just celebratin' my second life, is all."

Steph would later explain, once they were in her apartment and out of earshot, that Marta had run away from an abusive husband. The bastard had stalked her and had been trying to break down her door while brandishing a knife when Steph stepped in. All those ladies who greeted her when they arrived, she had saved in some fashion. She never did like bullies.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

Page 1 of 26

it's you and me up against the world, it's you and me

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject