Avengers Age Regression Oneshots

🍼🦾🩶Blanket Fort💭💙🇺🇸

It had been one of those chilly afternoons where the wind rattled the windows and the skies were a constant shade of gray. Bucky Barnes, regressed to his little headspace, sat on the floor of his and Steve's shared living room, surrounded by an assortment of pillows, blankets, and stuffed animals. His brow furrowed in concentration as he arranged the pillows in what was turning out to be a very important project: a blanket fort.

Steve Rogers, standing by the kitchen counter, watched with a fond smile as Bucky busily worked, his little self determined to create the "biggest and bestest" fort imaginable. Bucky, when he was in his regressed state, often found comfort in building things—especially forts. It was a safe, cozy space for him, a place where he could feel protected from the world.

"Need any help over there, Buck?" Steve asked, his voice warm and patient as he sipped on a cup of tea.

Bucky glanced up from his masterpiece, his hair falling into his eyes as he gave Steve a serious nod. "Yeah, Stevie. Can you hold the blanket up? It's too floppy."

Steve set his mug down and came over, kneeling beside Bucky to help drape the blanket across the chairs that Bucky had strategically placed around the room. He held up one corner while Bucky tugged at the other, making sure the fort was sturdy and just the way he wanted it. Steve knew how much these little projects meant to Bucky—it was his way of reclaiming some sense of safety and control in a world that sometimes still felt too big for him.

"There," Steve said once the blanket was secure, stepping back to admire the fort. "How's that look?"

Bucky stood back, hands on his hips like a little architect inspecting his work. After a moment, his face broke into a bright smile. "It's perfect!"

Steve chuckled. "Of course it is. You're a fort-building pro."

With the fort complete, Bucky grabbed a few of his favorite stuffed animals—a soft bear named Mr. Fluffles and a small plush Captain America shield, a gift from Steve—and hurried inside the fort. He poked his head out a moment later, grinning widely at Steve.

"Stevie! You gotta come in! There's space for both of us."

"Is that so?" Steve smiled and crouched down, carefully crawling into the fort. It was surprisingly spacious for something built by someone who was supposed to be four years old, but then again, Bucky was always thorough in his creations.

Inside, Bucky had arranged a pile of pillows and blankets to create the coziest little nook. He immediately nestled himself into the corner, clutching Mr. Fluffles and looking incredibly proud of himself.

Steve settled in next to him, the blanket ceiling above them creating a warm, intimate atmosphere. The wind outside seemed less harsh from within the confines of the fort, and the world outside melted away as they sat there together.

"You comfortable, buddy?" Steve asked softly, adjusting one of the pillows behind Bucky's back.

Bucky nodded, looking up at Steve with his big, wide eyes. "Uh-huh. It's super cozy in here. I like it when we have forts."

Steve smiled, reaching over to gently ruffle Bucky's hair. "Me too, Buck. It's nice in here. You did a great job."

Bucky beamed at the praise, then shyly shifted closer to Steve, resting his head on Steve's shoulder. He was always a little more affectionate when he was regressed, seeking comfort and closeness in ways that made Steve's heart swell.

Steve wrapped an arm around him, pulling him in a little tighter. "You wanna read a story or just hang out for a bit?"

Bucky looked thoughtful for a moment, then tilted his head up to ask, "Can we read The Little Engine That Could?"

Steve chuckled softly. That was one of Bucky's favorite books whenever he was little, and Steve was always more than happy to read it to him. "Of course, pal. I think I know where it is."

After a quick trip out of the fort to grab the book, Steve returned and settled back in with Bucky cuddled against his side. He opened the well-worn pages of The Little Engine That Could and began to read in a soft, soothing voice. Bucky listened intently, his eyes glued to the illustrations, his thumb occasionally sneaking up to his mouth as he sucked on it absentmindedly—a sure sign he was feeling safe and secure.

By the time Steve reached the part where the little engine chants "I think I can, I think I can," Bucky was blinking sleepily, his body relaxed against Steve's.

"You still awake, buddy?" Steve whispered as he turned the page.

Bucky gave a tiny nod, though his eyelids were drooping. "Mhm... still awake," he murmured.

But Steve could tell that Bucky was on the verge of dozing off, and honestly, he couldn't blame him. The fort was warm and cozy, and the rhythmic sound of Steve's voice was lulling him into a peaceful state.

Steve finished the book, closing it gently and setting it aside. He glanced down at Bucky, whose breathing had evened out, eyes closed as he drifted into a peaceful sleep. A soft, content smile tugged at Steve's lips as he watched over his best friend.

Carefully, Steve adjusted the blanket around Bucky, making sure he was warm and comfortable. He knew how important these quiet moments were for Bucky when he was regressed—how they helped him feel grounded and safe.

For a while, Steve just sat there, enjoying the tranquility of the moment. The sound of the wind outside had faded to a distant hum, and inside the fort, everything was peaceful and still.

Eventually, Steve leaned back against the pillows, allowing himself to relax as well. He knew that, as long as he was there for Bucky—whether they were building blanket forts or reading bedtime stories—he was giving him the safety and love he needed.

And in that moment, with Bucky fast asleep beside him, Steve couldn't imagine being anywhere else.