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rookthorne · 2 years

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Victorious | ꜱᴛᴜᴄᴋʏ

Pairing; Stucky Word Count; 1.8k Warnings; hurt/comfort, descriptions of blood and injury, swearing, pet names, I play with canon, background character death (Tony) A/N; I was watching Endgame, and I thought why not. I'm gonna make this better - well, imo anyway.

WHUMPTOBER MASTERLIST

Medals were awarded to Soldiers that went above and beyond the call of duty, that pushed beyond what could be the limits of human endurance to get the job done and save lives. But Steve? Steve only needed to see Bucky one last time before he disappeared into the fray and emerged victorious.

It had all come down to this. The fight of his life, the very last one. His shield - the vibranium shattered and torn in half by the blade of a tyrant, a self-imposed prophet.

God, what he wouldn’t give to be back in Brooklyn and picking fights in back allies with bullies two, three, times his size.

What he would not give to be back where he, Steve Rogers, belonged; his home, with his Bucky.

The battlefield was barren, a No Man’s Land, its stretch of destruction spanning along the length of where only moments ago, Bruce had snapped half the population back. Selfishly, Steve wanted to abandon all hope and hide, but every single fibre of his being screamed at him to fight.

So, he did.

Steve would take on this whole damn army by himself if it meant rest. If it meant he would be able to go back to the shell of his home.

The grit of dirt and blood against his exposed skin was nothing, in the grand scheme of things. The open fracture on his forearm from a blow he was powerless to stop, it was nothing, compared to the pain in his heart.

Steve knew for damn sure that there was no way he could tear his way through Thanos’ approaching army. Its soldiers were moving en masse in units that resembled those of what he had seen many decades ago; uniform, and unbreachable.

Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.

Oh, the irony. Here he was, squaring his shoulders for the fight of his life, and it was no different to the fight he lost almost a century ago that took everything away from him. Everything.

The strap of his shield tightened and he grunted, allowing only a small wince of pain to show because damn it all to hell - he was hurting.

Leviathans wormed their way through the air like the monsters Steve saw in his nightmares, every bit as frightening as they were in his dreams when he was awake. If Sam were here, he would have called them something that would have made Sarah Rogers turn in her grave if he repeated the sentiment.

Steve’s feet carried him wearily to an outcrop of busted pipes and rebar so he could look upon the landscape before him. Hope dwindled like the blood in his veins, pumping, but leaking from an open wound to leave him bare. Thor and Tony were nowhere to be seen.

A crackle in his ear gave him pause - the damn thing broke when Thanos threw him to the ground, he was sure of it.

“Hey Cap, you read me?”

Steve froze. That was Sam. How hard had he hit his head?

“Cap, it’s Sam, can you read me?”

Steve looked around, unable to stop the feel of hope swelling in his chest. When he saw nobody there, he raised his hand to press one finger against the comms jammed into his ear, and he opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could utter a single word, a quiet sizzling sound came from behind him, over his left shoulder.

“On your left.”

Steve turned and felt his heart seize in his chest. The beginnings of a portal - a portal - sparking to life.

Through the circling sparks Steve could make out four figures. The one leading the charge began to start a chant of “Yibambe!” that reverberated through his chest with a ringing sense of relief. T’Challa, the King of Wakanda and the man that mounted the defence five years ago, came to a stop beside him and Steve, honest to God, almost cried.

Shuri and Okoye came to a stop either side of T’Challa, but the fourth figure made Steve’s world completely stop.

Bucky.

Natasha’s Paratrooper in hand, Bucky stalked forward and stood just in front of Steve, the stony expression of the dormant Winter Soldier fading for just a moment when Bucky stared into his face. “Hey, Stevie,” Bucky said simply, the beginnings of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “Taking more bullies on than ever, I see.”

The way Steve’s ability to speak left him at just that moment was enough to frustrate a man to tears, and Steve didn’t suppress them.

“Buck,” Steve managed eventually, his eyes wide and inhibitions gone with the wind at seeing Bucky alive and here. “You’re back.”

“Never left, doll,” Bucky winked and stood tall, the gun in his hand becoming an extension of himself again as he stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with Steve. “Let’s show these bastards what for, hmm?”

Steve grinned and turned to face the enemy. Hope filled him like a tidal wave because with Bucky by his side, there was no way in hell he would lose, not again.

The fight was brutal. Weapons and bodies were flying in every direction, shouts and war cries could barely be heard over yells and screams of pain.

Steve had lost Bucky in the fight.

The two of them were separated by a pack of Outriders and one hell of a brute from the Black Order that Steve traded blow after blow with.

He was not going to lose Bucky, not again.

A well placed hit in the head from Mjölnir sent the brute flying backwards to land on its back in the dirt where Scott squished it under his foot.

“Bucky!” Steve cried into the fray, paying no mind to the chaos as it played out in front of him. “Where are you!” He scrambled over debris and fallen bodies, the latter more so the enemy than the ally. “Buck!”

Steve rounded a pile of debris at a sprint and stopped short at the sight before him, Bucky was on the ground and wrestling with a member of the Black Order - Corvus. Nothing but pure, cold fury flooded his veins when he took off again fast enough to break the sound barrier.

“You son of a bitch!” Steve yelled, tackling Corvus to the ground. His broken shield met Corvus’ exposed and bloodied neck with a barrage of blows that he could not stop - even when Corvus was still beneath him.

“Steve!” A hand on his shoulder was trying to pull him back but Steve resisted - Corvus had hurt Bucky, he had to hurt him back!

“Steve! C’mon!” The clatter of metal against earth beside him made Steve pause his assault to look around wildly - it was Bucky’s gun.

Steve could feel the pressure of two hands on his shoulders, the force of them pulling him back. “I need you to come back,” Bucky panted and he immediately snapped out of his daze, collecting Bucky into his arms for a hug that sewed his once shattered heart back together. “I need you to-”

Steve shushed him and held him tighter until he could feel the shake of Bucky’s shoulders cease - he hadn’t even realised Bucky had been crying.

When Steve loosened his grip to better look at Bucky, he suddenly slipped through Steve’s arms and fell to his knees with a low moan of pain. “Buck!” Steve cried and fell to his knees beside him, like two brothers - lovers - on a battlefield.

“‘M alright,” Bucky coughed and winced, his hand coming to rest against a slash in his navy vest. “Bastard got me.”

Steve frantically looked around amongst the chaos for shelter, anything that would give Bucky the chance to catch his breath. There was a boulder not far away, the slant and cover of a fallen trunk of a tree lay against it - perfect.

“I’m gonna haul you up,” Steve said quickly, grabbing hold of Bucky’s left arm and throwing it over his shoulder. “Hang on.” There was no protest and Bucky adjusted his feet so he could stumble at Steve’s side.

Thor came swinging out of nowhere to take out a horde of Outriders, stopping for barely a second to spare them a glance full of pride with his electric eyes. Then he was gone again, Stormbreaker in hand.

Just as they reached the boulder, Bucky crumpled in Steve’s hold again with a shout of pain that ended in a whimper. The two of them looked at his midsection and Bucky let out a feeble groan. Blood had seeped from the gash and bloomed over his vest at an alarming rate, and all Steve could do was haul him back to his feet. “Almost there, hang on!”

The boulder loomed over Steve as he approached, the growing heaviness of Bucky’s limp body pulled at his last nerve and ability to keep calm. Bucky’s head had come to rest against the crook of Steve’s neck and his once steady footsteps grew steadily more stumbled until he was dragging his feet.

Not like this, Steve begged silently.

“You with me, Buck?” Steve rushed as he sat Bucky down so his back rested against the boulder. He hovered a few inches from Bucky’s face and watched Bucky open his eyes blearily, a small smile growing on his lips.

“Damn right I am,” Bucky wheezed and Steve couldn’t help but release the breath he held in relief. “Steve, I need you to-”

“No, Buck, I’m not-”

“Listen to me, dammit,” Bucky snarled as he brought his left hand up to brush his thumb against Steve’s soot and blood covered cheek. “I need you to go back out there, and I need you to kick some alien ass.” Steve laughed and Bucky smiled weakly in return.

“Never woulda thought this would’ve happened,” Steve breathed, “back in the forties.”

“I never woulda thought a lot of this would have happened, doll,” Bucky replied carefully, a wince of pain contorting his face when he shifted slightly.

“Don’t you die on me, sweetheart,” Steve demanded, moving forward to place a soft kiss against the lips he had missed more than anything else in the world.

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully and shoved at his shoulder. “I ain’t done yet, Rogers.”

After the battle ended, with more loss than was bearable, Steve wandered back to where he had hidden Bucky. He passed by bodies that turned to dust on approach, and others that limped or stumbled for balance with little to no care or thought.

It was quiet, the only sound muffled sobs coming from the woman and boy stood over the body of one of his oldest friends - a hero.

Steve couldn’t bring himself to shed a tear of grief, however. Tony had proven he was the guy to make a sacrifice play after all, he wasn’t just a man in a suit of armour. He was a man of unshakable faith and courage that remained even when his heart stood still.

Tony, the narcissistic and sarcastic asshole, wouldn’t have wanted tears.

So, Steve cried for a different reason, for relief.

Sam was back, everyone was back - most importantly, Bucky, after five long years, he was back.

And by God, Steve would go through that battle a thousand times over if it meant Bucky would be there in the end, to welcome him into his arms and hold him close like they used to.

Enough was enough, Steve thought as he approached Bucky’s figure, still slumped against the boulder and watching him through half-lidded eyes. It was time to go home.

Graphics & Header made by yours truly.

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#whumptober2022 #no.19 #ENOUGH IS ENOUGH #Knees Buckling #Head Lolling #marvel #fic #hurt/comfort #descriptions of blood and injury #swearing #pet names #canon divergent #Tony's death #bucky barnes x steve rogers #bucky x steve #stucky #stevebucky #rookthorne's works #Victorious

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heres-the-marvel-tea · 2 years

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Actually Marvel, Steve is s virgin because he’s aroace. No I will not elaborate

#Steve rogers #aroace #it is my head canon and I do what I want with it #marvel #mcu

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sunderedazem · 2 years

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“you don’t have to tell me. but if you do decide you want to, i’ll be here.”

For Steve and Corrain

:D you have chosen the Best Bois from the MCU/Moonrise legacy monstrosity! <3 (yay!!)

(Set during Age of Ultron)

It was...quiet. Somehow.

The porch was empty aside from himself and the crickets singing softly among the trees and tall grasses framing Clint's farmhouse, and yet the silence was deafening. Even in the midst of the soft rush of reeds in the breeze, the distant cooing of an owl, or the gentle windchimes tinkling overhead- the silence was oppressive, pinning him down. Breathing felt faraway and dim, the whisper of his own heartbeat muffled. It wasn't normal, this heavy, choking silence in his head and yet it remained in place, too heavy for even him to lift alone.

He shifted, leaning against one of the sections of railing that Clint hadn't taken apart yet. It was sturdy, groaning only a little under the weight of his grip. Absently, he traced a thumb over the chips in the white paint, trying to ground himself.

Nat was shaken badly by whatever the Maximoff girl had showed her. Very badly. He didn't know what fear could have possibly broken the Black Widow's composure like that, but he had a sneaking suspicion that he didn't want to find out. And then there was Tony, and the catastrophe that had resulted from being shown his worst fears, whatever they were. Steve had to fight back a shiver, the world still oddly muffled around him, the ground and worn wooden floorboards a dizzying drop away from him now. Neither of his teammates had wanted to share their waking nightmares, but...clearly they had both been awful. Terrifying on a scale the rest of them couldn't imagine.

And maybe he'd understood that without them needing to say anything. Felt it, somehow, like the hollow ring of his shield against Thor's Mjolnir, except...echoing and cold and prickling down his spine like the ice of the Arctic. Fear not his own, clawing at his chest.

Sending him farther and farther from the creaking porch now miles below him.

Then there was a flicker of warm rain at his back, and suddenly the puppet strings attached to his limbs were reeling in, the earth rushing closer as he fell back into himself, dazed. Suddenly the noise was loud again, ambient sound enough to keep him present - and he whipped around, heart in his throat. And the tickle of warm rain, gentle and dry against the back of his neck - it smiled kindly at him. He knew this feeling, didn't he?

He blinked at the familiar silhouette before him as Corrain stepped quietly into the porchlight, humming softly to himself, his long white braid draped casually over one shoulder. His muted eyes were fixed on Steve's face, the soft grey-blue gaze searching. He had eyes like a summer thunderstorm, Steve thought absently, again.

"You've been out here for a while," the alien man said after a moment's pause, cocking his head to one side and gazing placidly up to meet Steve's racing-heart stare. "Everything all right, Steve?"

There was another set of chirps from the crickets in the reeds, a little, encouraging song to tamp down the instinctive urge to put the shield up - to hide Steve Rogers behind Captain America. But he swallowed it, trying to take a steadying breath the way Corrain had showed him, back before SHIELD's disintegration and Hydra's fall. The smaller man had never been anything but patient with him before - he deserved more than to be shrugged off. Besides - if what he'd said about his senses of empathetic perception was all true, then he'd already know the answer to his own question. And lying had never really been Steve's style - as Nat said, he was terrible at it.

"...I don't know."

The non-answer didn't appear to faze Corrain in the slightest. Instead, he just crept closer, until he was standing at Steve's shoulder, the top of his head barely level with Steve's chin. Vaguely, Steve wondered if they'd have been the same height, should he never have touched Dr. Erskine's serum.

"You don't have to talk about it." The alien man's - Zakuulan, he was Zakuulan, a human from a distant planet on the other side of the universe - tone was steady, still impossibly kind, as if he was trying to calm a spooked animal. "But if you decide you want to - and I think you should - I'm here. And your team is here. We'll listen."

The team? It took a moment for the concept to shape itself inside his head, of Natasha and Bruce, Clint and Thor and- and Tony, all somehow listening, withholding judgement as he laid bare the old, throbbing wound of loss. Three, almost four years had passed since he'd woken up from his long slumber frozen in the arctic, and yet- the ache hadn't faded. Bucky's capture and breaking at HYDRA's hands still haunted him, and even Peggy barely recognized him now and he dreaded the day he would finally lose her too. He'd had almost four years to get used to the idea and yet...

"...I didn't see anything frightening," he said finally, the words thick in his mouth. "Not the way the others did. I...No, it's not worth sharing, really."

Corrain frowned at that, and without warning his hand came up, smacking the back of Steve's head with a surprising amount of force from someone so petite.

"Ow? Corrain, what the-"

"You tell me that whatever has you disassociating out here for thirty minutes straight 'isn't worth sharing' again and I'll outright deck your dumb ass," Corrain said flatly. Steve blinked once- twice-

"Thirty minutes?"

"Well, Natasha and Tony both went on for at least an hour, if you're trying to needlessly compare your own troubles to other people again." The grey storm of that gaze was piercing now, searing holes in his face. Steve tried his best to meet it, but could only manage for a minute.

"Look. If you don't want to share- I'm not forcing you," Corrain said, flipping his braid back over his shoulder. His voice had lost the sudden brusque edge, returning to its previous warmth. "If you're not ready to talk, that's okay. But- I think you'd feel better if you stopped stewing in it. And I think your team is probably one of the only groups of people on this planet that could have even a prayer of understanding what you're dealing with. And vice versa."

For a moment, Steve let the idea settle in his head. And then, incredulously, he turned to the short man at his side, watching as the faint smile lines on Corrain's face deepened, his mouth curling.

"You want us to all talk about what Wanda made us see, don't you?" he accused - but he couldn't bring himself to put any bite behind the words, and Corrain's smile only grew.

"Not quite, considering she didn't hit all of you," Corrain chirped out, and that odd summer-rain warmth pattered lightly across Steve's back again, like an embedded giggle in the sudden curl of comfort he felt wrapping around his shoulders. "But similar enough - and yes. You can only understand each other more by listening to what you all fear most, and it can only help you in the long run. And I think what you all fear... those fears may explain more about how you all act than you think."

"Even if mine's not- not a fear, precisely?"

The porchlight flickered then, briefly casting the smile on the Zakuulan man's face into long shadows, and by the time the light clattered back to life the grin was gone. Only a soft, tired compassion remained.

"I know," Corrain said softly. "Grieving men don't fear death - they mourn that it didn't take them too. And you haven't been scared since I met you. That's the problem."

Silence sprinkled with the windchime's tinkling music fell. Steve tried not to think about how quickly, how accurately he'd been seen through, held his tongue even in the face of that placid acknowledgement. After all- what could he say to that? He was terrible at lying.

Corrain turned, gesturing back at the warm light of the screen door behind him, and then reached back, clasping a warm hand around Steve's shoulder.

"Come on, Steve." Thunderstorm eyes flickered back towards the house, unbearably calm in the face of what had just been laid bare between them. "You don't have to say anything, but I think if you wanted to, if you found the strength to trust them enough to be vulnerable...you'd find they'd listen, and they'd understand."

#the actual adults are talking and you're basically a college kid sit down son #swtor oc #swtor x mcu #mcu steve rogers #jedi knight oc #steve rogers #moonrise legacy meets mcu #swtor jedi knight #age of ultron compliant #fic snippet #corrain #corrain gealai #moonrise legacy #trauma prompts #yeah so this is a scene from the mcu/moonrise legacy monstrosity currently in my head right now #also known as the 'Corrain adopts Steve as a Padawan' plotline #in which one steve rogers is barely scraping 20 and some change when he gets pulled out of the ice #and Corrain crashlands on Earth due to tesseract shenanigans about a year prior to the Winter Soldier #it's fully compliant with my Moonrise legacy storyline so it's technically post-swtor canon #and ends up being an mcu au #it's fucking CHAOS i just want corrain to BEHAVE HIS GODDAMN SELF and no #he's out here stealing padawans from DIFFERENT FUCKING FANDOMS #fuck you you little brat of an oc #anyway corrain's in his thirties here and steve is like 24 but because of the captain america propaganda machine everyone thinks he's 30+#and steve being an idiot with a self-sacrificing complex has chosen to not correct this #anyway i have another entire fic outline for this too help me #i'm yelling about steve being younger here because corrain is being adamant about channeling Orgus at Steve #and that's objectively more hilarious when Corrain can go #and Steve just gets offended as all hell XDDDDDD

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thatonebasicfan · 2 years

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I headcanon Steve Rogers, Migs Mayfield Anakin/Darth Vader, The Emperor, Din Djarin , Mace Windu and Yoda as bisexual people who smoke marijuana, idgaf what you headcanon someone as it’s your interpretation of a character

If that's how you head canon your blorbo, fine. I think ur crazy, but it's your blorbo, so you can headcanon how ever you want.

What really pisses me off is when someone else head canons the characters in an opposite fashion, and then you say, "No that's not true because I said so"

#head canons #steve rogers #migs mayfeld #anakin skywalker #darth vader #emperor palpatine #din djarin #mace windu #yoda #asks #anonymous

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strawbebbi-daiquiri · 2 years

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Okay I know I’m on that brainrot train still I love pre-war stucky give, or at least where they were together before everything because the concept of loving someone no matter what through all versions of themself no matter the changes because that’s still the person you love despite all the hardship and at the core that doesn’t change????

On the other hand I just like the rest of the avengers trying to set them up and then going “ma’am we’ve been dating since we were 16”

#Rosi rambles #stucky #steve rogers #Bucky Barnes #god I love fanfic #but also 100% head canon that they were together before everything

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percentstardust · 2 years

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steve WAS at avengerscon, he was just in one of his old uniforms ( possibly his one from aou ). he kept his cowl on for most of then con. people just thought he was a normal cosplayer with a VERY accurately made costume. the ones in charge of the con had no idea either. she just showed up and enjoyed himself. he has done this at several non avengers themed cons as well.

#& head canons ( steve rogers )#& head canons ( all )#someone: captain america?!#steve: not anymore but yeah #dnndnsjsjsjxjd #do not reblog or else #why be a hero and not do this #canon divergences

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libraryofgage · 9 months

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Steddie brainrot continues to worsen to a concerning degree but here's a crack idea that is absolutely sending me:

Famous Spicy Six in which Jonathon is a director who decides to work on a passion project: a Scooby-Doo movie. His ideal cast is as follows:

Nancy Wheeler (investigative journalist with a few special appearances on crime dramas) as Daphne Blake

Argyle (an actor with a habit of playing small parts; he acts only because he thinks it's fun, so he's not concerned with significant roles) as Shaggy Rogers

Robin Buckley (a well-known voice actor who is more well-known for her social media posts and clap-backs) as Velma Dinkley

Steve Harrington (basketball star who is also more well-known for his social media clap-backs and for being Corroded Coffin's number one fan) as Fred Jones

Eddie Munson (frontman for Corroded Coffin, an insanely popular metal/punk/rock band and "infamous" for unashamedly posting Steve Harrington thirst tweets) as the voice of Scooby-Doo

Corroded Coffin is also creating an entirely new, original soundtrack for the movie

And because I think it's funnier this way, this is also an AU where the Upside Down still happened, so Jonathon just calls his friends up and is like "Okay, so hear me out"

The absolute insanity that breaks out when both the movie and cast are announced because nobody can figure out how Jonathon managed to convince all these powerhouses to join his movie.

The further screaming online after one of the movie promo interviews where a reporter asks how they all agreed to the movie and Nancy hits them with, "Well, Jonathon asked, and he never asks for anything."

Which leads to the discovery that they all knew each other in high school, and the reporter jokingly asks if that means they've all dated each other, too, which leads to Eddie jumping in with absolute delight like, "Well, that's a funny story, there. See, Stevie here dated Nancy, who then dated Jonathon when they broke up, who then dated Argyle after they broke up. And I thought Stevie and Robin were dating, so I was very confused when I saw Robin and Nancy kissing. But then I found out that Robin was a true-blue lesbian, which meant Stevie here was open for the taking, and we've been banging ever since."

and Steve is just sitting there, head in his hands while Robin cackles and decides to tell the reporter all about Steve's "fuck I have a crush on Eddie" crisis

This interview, of course, leads to even more freaking out online and comments like "I know I asked for poly Scooby gang, but this is ridiculous," and "I can't believe that in this, the year of our lord 20xx, ScoobyXFreddy became a canon ship," and "if I had a nickel for every romantic relationship the Scooby gang actors have had with each other, I'd have five nickels, which is way more than any of us fucking expected to have," and "suddenly Eddie Munson's thirst tweets make a lot more sense, but can we talk about Steve Harrington's CC tweets now," and "everyone say thank you to Eddie Munson for revealing that mess of a relationship map," and "finally, the canon lesbian velma and daphne we deserve"

The movie is a box office hit, btw, and bloopers from filming roll with the credits, among which is Eddie Munson making Steve Harrington lose his shit laughing on set while dressed in a Scooby Doo onesie and singing Corroded Coffin songs with his Scooby Voice

#Steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #Jonathon Byers #argyle stranger things #Nancy Wheeler #Robin Buckley #scooby doo #Scooby Doo is my special interest btw #I know more Scooby lore than you could dream of babygirl #thoughts of this AU completely send me into absolute fits #please appreciate the sheer crack-value of it all I'm begging

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dontrequireyourhelp · 2 years

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❛ i don’t ever want to lose you. ❜ // steve

friends to lovers starters | accepting

“Ca-” she started, so used to being formal with him when they interact but every one else around them was asleep and the medical team were at the other end. “Steve,” she began again, reaching out and placing her hand over his. She was sure she looked nothing like he was used to, they were forcing her into bed rest which meant she wasn’t in her pristine appearance. That blasted sniper got lucky and technically so did she with how close the wounds were to causing some serious damage. “I know that I do not have to tell you that we are at war and this may not qualm any of your fears, but I can assure you that I intend to not go anywhere.” She gave his hand a squeeze and a reassuring smile.

#bokketo #m: steve rogers #peggy answers things #also hi please accept this being based off a head canon i have #that after peggy got shot that these two became closer #and yes that can mean absolutely anything #and yes i accept all forms of definitions of became closer #v: doors shut

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luna-rainbow · 2 years

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What would have happened in your ideal Cap3 movie, Serpent Society or otherwise?

This is an amazing question! On the one hand I would LOVE 90 minutes of Steve and Bucky just chillin', but on the other hand I am a sucker for the action thriller genre and I also understand its conceits. I would have been quite happy with a plotty Cap 3 that is of similar to quality to CATWS, and leave the emotional recovery to fanworks.

First of all the focus of this movie needs to be on Steve, Bucky and Sam, and to a lesser extent Nat. I think one of the most important roles of this story is to set up why Sam would be the ideal candidate to take on the mantle should he choose to. I think Isaiah’s existence should be introduced as a discussion of just how much the SHIELD and CIA “compromised”, although I would prefer if that story is explored in more depth in a Sam-centric movie.

The arc I really want to see for Bucky is him gaining agency over his own missions. He’s bright and analytical, he’s been a sergeant, he’s the oldest of 4 kids — sure, during the war he was happy to step back into a supportive role for Steve but he’s also been a leader himself. I feel like canon Bucky often gets relegated to the follower role but he’s probably someone far more opinionated and strong-minded then he’s given credit for. I know a lot of people liked the fact that Bucky had holed himself up after CATWS, but I kinda want to see him be proactive, ya know, and not just be the NPC waiting for the main character to kickstart the plot. I also feel like it would be in his nature to be proactive rather than passive. Certainly, his CATFA story suggest he is assertive and independent-minded, and taking down Hydra is as much his goal as it is Steve's.

For Steve, though, I would like to see him either own the Captain America title or transition to Nomad. Either way, I want Steve to separate from the propaganda aspect of Captain America and take control of his own narrative. This is a theme that is unique to Steve amongst the Avengers. He was created to be the face of an entity; he had no knowledge or control over how that narrative was curated for 70 years, and then he was pressured into presenting himself to suit that narrative.

Ideally, the big bad should still be Hydra, because both Steve and Bucky deserved closure for everything that had happened in the last 70 years.

I feel like the natural flow of events from CATWS is that Zola has uploaded himself into the internet prior to his "brain" getting bombed - and maybe it would be a good tie-in to AoU to say that Zola's presence in the internet corrupted Ultron and drove him down the genocidal path. Fury and Hill head to Europe, where they run into Bucky as he tries to solo his own way through the bits of Hydra he could remember. I don't know if it would overload the story by introducing Wakanda here - but perhaps instead of T'Challa, the character introduced is Nakia, who is investigating a human trafficking route which eventually leads her to Hydra +/- the Red Room. I feel like this would give a lead-in to another movie introducing T'Challa, as well as tie in nicely with Nat's movie. Alternatively, the original T'Challa story could still be used here but with Zola pulling the strings instead of Zemo.

Ideally the movie should address all the experiments that has now been established in canon - Steve's Project Rebirth, Bucky (and the other PoWs), Isaiah and his squad, the source of Howard's serum, and Bruce, and discuss the eugenics beliefs driving them, and the fact that this belief still thrives in a lot of American institutions. I'd like to see Steve and Sam each confront this and come to terms with what it means for them personally. I want Steve, Sam and Bucky to each then choose to denounce the powers that had caused or perpetuated their traumas, including those they thought were their allies.

But I think ultimately, the message has to be one of hope and optimism. There is a possibility of rebuild and renewal and change. It's Steve saying "My faith is in people, and for the most part they haven't let me down"; it's Sam saying "What would be the point of all the pain and sacrifice if I wasn't willing to stand up and keep fighting?"; it's Bucky saying...well canon him hasn't really been given the chance to say much, but what about letting Bucky show that he - very much like Steve and Sam beside him - believes in hope and goodness and that was why he could survive all that time and still come out the other end a good person? And this would also be why Sam does pick up the shield later, because despite all he has seen he still believes a better tomorrow is possible.

#head canon #asks #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson

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shurisneakers · 3 months

Text

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently.

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

Bucky has the audacity to look offended.

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused.

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles.

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV.

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit.

Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week.

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling.

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.”

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive.

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there.

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks.

They give him access to his Twitter.

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening.

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested.

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening.

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it.

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees.

Therefore, it begins.

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions.

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution.

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.

He is not put in another video.

And so he finds himself here.

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up.

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows.

“No.”

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to.

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad.

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was–

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily.

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now.

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head.

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question.

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked.

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night.

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly.

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.”

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them.

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?”

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–”

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum.

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together.

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it.

You were… loud. And open.

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium.

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

“Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow.

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates.

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head.

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues.

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest.

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud.

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?”

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay.

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly.

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table.

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

also i'd absolutely love to make this a community led fic like how harmless was! if you have memes or any paranormal ideas or just any prompts in general, please please send them my way <3

Next part

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #mcu fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky angst #bucky barnes angst #unsolved fic #winter soldier x reader #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes #bucky

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frostironfudge · 1 year

Text

I Need You To Listen - Steve Rogers

Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon

Main Masterlist || AO3

Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there.

Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features.

Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family.

A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other.

Won together.

Lost together.

In the past few days died together.

“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory.

The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago.

“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor.

“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder.

“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it.

“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.”

She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?”

Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head.

Wanda looks down at her hands.

“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all.

Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?”

“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you.

“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off.

“I know, I did too.”

“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone.

Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart.

“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him.

“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows.

Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him.

“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places.

“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.”

“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene.

“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static.

“Wh-what?”

“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you.

“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens.

“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans.

You stand there dumbfounded.

As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.

Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor.

“I don’t care.” He says so easily.

You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you.

Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body.

Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you.

Eight months down the drain.

The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain.

“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.”

Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face.

He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing.

“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell.

“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam.

“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated

that about the company’s past.

The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you.

“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away.

You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems.

True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together.

When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia.

The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed.

Opening it reveals a burner phone.

“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle.

“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it.

“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him.

Opening the text.

SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain.

You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol.

“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair.

“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?”

“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink.

The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync.

“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun.

“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.”

“So confident.” You raise your brows.

“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes.

“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck.

Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face.

“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes.

“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again.

You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you.

“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own.

“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.”

You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late.

Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel.

“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down.

Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.”

“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?”

“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him.

“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand.

“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head.

“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle.

“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well.

Both of you burst out laughing.

“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”

“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room.

“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?”

You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers.

Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered.

You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart.

Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes.

The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow.

“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself.

“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself.

Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him.

A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level.

Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights.

Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him.

You don’t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him.

The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them.

Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried.

After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab.

“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn.

“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, “Luckily I come bearing gifts.”

“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup.

“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own.

“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more.

You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him.

“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD.

“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him.

“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts.

“See we’ll be okay.” You declare.

Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits.

Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury.

Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair.

You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.

“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all.

“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff.

Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes.

“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds.

Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods.

“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder.

“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow.

“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.”

No one nods.

Nick shakes his head leaving the room.

“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder.

“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further.

“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh.

“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan.

Nat and Sam stare at you.

“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched.

Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze.

Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust.

Sam nods, “Well best we head back.”

“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile.

“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead.

“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone.

“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back.

His mouth opens again to speak.

Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?”

“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out.

Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.

He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.

You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting.

“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”

“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.

“Vision.” He acknowledges.

“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head.

Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.

“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says

Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.

“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.

“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators.

“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator.

“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him.

Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him.

You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away.

“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator.

Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you.

“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers.

“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again.

People trickle in and out.

Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you.

You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him.

Finally it's just the two of you.

The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender.

“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched.

“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker.

“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him.

“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes.

There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”

“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge.

“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him.

“You lied?” You repeat.

“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,”

Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up.

“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,”

The doors open to your floor, you step out.

“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!”

“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door.

“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading.

He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over.

Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place.

Mixed training was now mandatory.

You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you.

Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties.

Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down.

“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh.

“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh.

“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.”

“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen.

The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you.

You grin at him.

“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes.

“Y/N.”

Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there.

You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench.

Sam takes his arm away.

You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem.

“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news.

“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.”

You glare at him, “Alright.”

An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough.

“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout.

You frown in recognition.

“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him.

“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead.

“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans.

Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands.

Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space.

Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you.

The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper.

He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”

You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps.

The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area.

You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.”

“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”

You give another once over and then follow him back down the path.

Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward.

Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him.

Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate.

Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck.

Why can't you move away?

Why do you want more of him?

Why do you miss him?

He hurt you.

He lied.

He hurt you.

You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway.

It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way.

You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall.

Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!”

You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you.

A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing.

Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous.

The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps.

“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort.

“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across.

Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew.

He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you.

“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it.

“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him.

Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,”

“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place.

Your palms cover his, you look up at him.

You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him.

Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view.

“Poppet, something is wrong.”

You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled?

Why was he falling to his knees?

You look behind him, people standing and watching.

The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield.

The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up.

“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body.

Steve keeps his eyes closed.

Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers.

How long was he out?

Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath.

He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them.

Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration.

“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.

“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm.

Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher.

“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend.

Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.”

A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own.

Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city.

Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside.

“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair.

Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you.

“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...”

He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors.

You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core.

“Steve—,”

“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you.

Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns.

The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?”

Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out.

“I see and why is she yours?”

He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.”

“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.

“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.

You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling.

“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked.

“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper.

Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place.

“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.”

Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.

“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch.

“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him.

“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured.

“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.”

Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed.

“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper.

“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again.

“You can’t have him at risk again!”

“I won’t let you die!”

“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you.

Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”

“Save it.”

“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts.

“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,”

“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.”

“You are not dying.” Steve grits out.

“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features.

“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him.

“He’s in the United Kingdom.”

“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?”

The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!”

Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.

You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you.

Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive.

He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way.

“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain.

A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault.

“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad.

The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.”

You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento.

You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across.

Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows.

“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off.

You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him.

“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over.

“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him.

His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief.

“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well.

“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away.

“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin.

He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you.

Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there.

“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.

“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.

Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop.

“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek.

His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you.

His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.

“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,”

His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.

The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.

“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall.

“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you.

When your thighs clench around him, Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos.

Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before.

“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.

“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.

You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.

Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched.

Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.

The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.

He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him.

“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy.

The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,

“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.

It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders.

Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture.

Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.

As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.

Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly.

You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.

Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet.

The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.

You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek.

Your eyes meet their old home of blue.

“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.

He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.

-x-x-x-x-

3K notes · View notes

dem-obscure-imagines · 3 months

Text

For the Longest Time

Steve Rogers x Reader

Fandom: MCU

Summary: In 1943, Steve was visited by his soulmate, a girl from the future who already knew him. Decades later, after waking up in a brave new world, Steve meets his soulmate again, except she hasn’t met him yet. And she won’t travel to 1943—or know he’s her soulmate—for another year.

Note: This is a continuation/prequel/whatever you wanna call it to A Long, Long Time, a Steve Soulmate AU I wrote a while back. Long story short, I watched Knives Out again and got Steve Rogers brainrot. Happens to the best of us. I might write a third part if there’s interest…

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2.2k

Reader Is: Steve’s Soulmate, Super-Powered, Female

Steve remembered the day you’d met—for the second time, though he didn’t realize that right away—like it was tattooed on his brain. It was a few years after he’d come out of the ice and he had taken Tony’s advice to get out more, which had led him to the mall.

By some stroke of fate, it happened to be the day a pyromaniac with a flamethrower was there, but before he could even spring into action, you did, hands out in front of you and what seemed to be an invisible shield poised there, redirecting the flames and protecting the teenage movie theater employee that had nearly been caught in the crossfire.

A quick flick of your wrist knocked the attacker’s gun out of his hands, giving Steve the opportunity to step in and apprehend the guy.

You sat on a bench after, breathing heavy, a cut on your forehead from the shattered glass of the skylight. The paramedics were taking care of the civilians, and Steve wandered right over, impressed.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just glad everyone is okay.” You told him, meeting his eyes.

He finally got a good look at you and froze, looking bewildered. A deer in headlights. “You’re…”

It was you. Of course it was you. Since the moment he’d been unfrozen, he’d been looking for you. His soulmate. The girl from the future that popped in on his twenty-fifth birthday, turned his whole life on its head, and then left without warning, hours after their first kiss. Back when he was five-foot-nothing with asthma and more medical conditions than he could even remember.

Back before he was anything.

And you’d loved him anyway. You’d given him the day of a lifetime and hope for not only a future, but for love. That someone could love him for him despite it all.

“I know.” You knew? “I…I don’t know what it is or…why I can do it.”

Your powers, you meant. You thought he was talking about your powers and not your name, which was burning a hole into his wrist beneath the thick leather band keeping it hidden.

“Right. Well, it’s…” He sighed, gathering his words, hiding the elation and pain behind a warm smile. “It’s a good thing you were here. I don’t have my shield on me.”

“Mine is built in.” You chuckled.

“You, uh…have a cut. On your forehead.”

“Oh, do I?” You reached up and found it with your fingers and they came away a bit bloody. “Shit.”

“Come on.” He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him lead you over to the counter of the theater. “Hi, do you have a first aid kit?”

“Yeah, of course.” The girl at the counter said, rushing to grab it.

Steve patched you up with gentle hands, off in a corner on your own. Staring up at him, you finally realized the obvious. This was Captain America. And he was using a careful finger to spread a triple antibiotic ointment on your cut.

Play it cool, (Y/N).

“Do you do this often? The hero thing?” Steve asked.

“No.” You shrugged. “Haven’t had much opportunity thankfully. I mean…I’d like to, I just didn’t know how to…get into it, I guess. Any email I sent to Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D. or whatever would end up on a slush pile.”

“Well, I’ve got some connections. If you’re seriously considering it. I can’t say I recommend it, but…Obviously you’ve got that protective instinct and you seem to work well under pressure.”

“My heart is about to leap out of my chest.” You admitted, laughing as he carefully laid a Bandaid over the cut, closing the kit.

“That makes two of us.”

“But, yeah, if you think I’m really cut out for it…I’d love to help.”

***

It was those words that sealed your fate. Three days later, someone from Stark Industries got in contact with you and before you knew it, you were on a plane to the Avengers’ remote facility in Upstate New York with a bag full of clothes, a handful of books, and a dream. You met the others, Wanda, Natasha, Bruce. Eventually Bucky came into the mix, too, Steve’s friend from before the ice who…had a staring problem, you were pretty sure. He kept looking at you, seemingly bewildered you were there.

You never did figure out why.

After a particularly tricky mission in rural Kentucky, you had landed yourself in the infirmary, taking a pretty long nap complete with an IV and a heartrate monitor.

It was Nat that found Steve in there, wringing his hands, tears in his eyes. It was the one secret he still had: you were his soulmate and wouldn’t know it for another six months. Your name had been etched onto his wrist for seventy years, through the transformation, through the ice, through everything.

“She’s gonna be okay, Steve. Bruce thinks she might wake up soon.” Nat comforted, sitting in the chair next to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, confused by her friend’s sudden mood.

“I know, I just…” He shook his head. “I’m worried about her is all.”

Nat pressed her lips together, tilting her head. “This seems like a little more than that. You wanna tell me what’s really going on?”

That was her super power, he remembered. She was a human lie detector.

“I can, just…not here.” Steve nodded, leading her out of the room, out of your earshot, but still in sight thanks to the soundproof windows.

Nat’s hands settled on her hips, waiting for an answer. Instead, Steve took the cuff off of his wrist and held it out to her, letting her read the letters that had been etched there for the better part of a century.

Her jaw dropped. She stammered, arms crossing. She met his eyes and when she saw the sadness there, the guilt and longing, her expression softened.

“I should have told her. A long time ago, I should have told her but I can’t. In six months, on her twenty-fifth, she’s going back in time to 1943 to meet me on mine. And it…didn’t seem like she knew until she was already there.”

“So you’ve just been holding it in this whole time?” Natasha asked. “You’ve been in love with her…”

“Since the forties, yeah.” Steve nodded. “My great lost love, as Tony likes to call her when he rags on the band I wear.”

“Does he know?”

“No. Just you. And Bucky.” Steve amended. “He was there when she…”

“Right. Weird.” Natasha let out a long sigh, looking through the window. “Well do you need any help with that? I can get some information out of her. I’ll be super subtle, I promise.”

“I don’t know. She probably thinks my soulmate is dead, too.”

“Ironic.”

“No kidding.” Steve sighed. “Well, I guess if she says anything, let me know. It’s kind of a relief someone else knows.”

“We’ll get you through it, Steve. Six more months. That’s nothing.”

“Yeah.” Steve gazed longingly through the window. “I’m gonna sit with her for a while. I don’t want her to wake up alone.”

He slinked back into the infirmary and sat in the chair beside your bed, watching your steady breaths and listening to the beeping of the heart monitor. Natasha watched him through the window, heart strings pulled as tight as they’d ever been. Her best friend was in love and there was almost nothing he could do about it.

***

Three months later, you, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Nat got snowed in on a mission in Alaska. The little cabin you’d been sent to was unreachable by any of the jets the team could send and besides, it wasn’t worth the risk of Clint or someone getting stuck out there in this.

But despite the fireplace raging with fresh-chopped wood, you were still shivering, all wrapped up for the night.

Steve watched you, forlorn. Natasha nudged him, motioning towards you. He chuckled and shook his head. He couldn’t. Right? What, take advantage of you in your vulnerable state.

Bucky seemed to agree with Nat, grinning into his mug of coffee, giving him some caffeine for his night watch.

Steve got up off of his seat, walked towards the fireplace and adjusted the logs, adding another small one for good measure. He looked back at the others, who were aggressively encouraging him to go over to you, and gave in.

He knelt down in front of you, clearing his throat, which caused you to jolt awake.

“Is everything okay? Are we under attack?”

Steve chuckled. “No, uh, we’re all good. Are you cold?”

“Kind of, yeah.” You admitted. “I’ll be okay, though, I promise.”

“Do you…want some company?” He asked, unsure of how to word it. “I…run warm.”

“Do you mind?” You asked, sitting up a little.

His heart raced. This was going better than he thought. “Here, um…” He raised the blanket on top of you and wiggled in underneath you, letting you lead as the two of you settled.

“God, you do run warm.” You hummed, all but collapsing against him, a hand flat against his chest while you adjusted.

“I didn’t always.” He said, voice sincere. “Buck and I used to have to share a bed in the winter. It was brutal.”

“Sounds like it.”

“Yeah, he snores.” Steve joked, earning a laugh.

“Oh I know. I can hear him three doors down back at home.”

“And I can hear you from the other room!” Bucky called, sending you and Steve into a fit of giggles, like kids at a sleepover. “It’s a small cabin.”

You heard him and Sam devolve into a bickering match about the truth of whether or not Bucky actually snored that loud.

You looked up at Steve, asking “is it okay if I put my arm here?” while carefully draping an arm across him.

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded, leaning against the pillows and pulling the blanket up around your shoulders.

You rested your head on his firm chest, listening to the way his heart was racing. Cute.

The drowsiness took over almost immediately, his warmth lulling you to sleep after a long day undercover out in the snow. You were asleep in minutes, breaths slow and long and even.

But once he was absolutely sure you were out, Steve pressed the gentlest kiss to your forehead, grateful beyond words to have you in his arms again.

***

“You thought today was her birthday???” Natasha asked, incredulous in the kitchen.

“I got nervous!” Steve defended. “I saw it on her whiteboard in front of her door and I thought—”

“I think Scott wrote that the last time he was here. He keeps track of all of that.”

“Doesn’t surprise me.” Steve replied, shaking his head. “Well, does she have any birthday plans?”

“Yeah, Wanda and I are taking her out shopping this afternoon. Tony gave her his card. And then the party tomorrow night.”

Steve nodded. “Okay, good. That buys me some time.”

“You got a plan?”

“I’ve had a plan.” Steve admitted. “Been sitting on it for about seventy years, in fact.”

***

You got out of bed, got dressed, and headed to the mall with Natasha and Wanda. The same mall, in fact, that you and Steve had met in the first place.

“Where was it?” Wanda asked, wearing a very fashionable pair of shades.

“Right over there.” You pointed to the spot in front of the movie theater, up on the second floor of the mall. “Guy with a flamethrower and a dream. He’s in jail now.”

“Yeah, well, that’s what you get when you dream of arson.” Nat said, causing you and Wanda to laugh.

You shopped around for clothes, got some pretzels at the Wetzels, and window shopped. You already had what you were pretty sure you were going to wear the following night. It wasn’t every day one of the Avengers turned twenty five and met their soulmate. Tony was determined to make it a spectacle. He had a habit of doing that, it seemed.

In the food court, you seemed kind of down, chin resting against your fist. Wanda picked up on it first.

“It will all be okay, (Y/N). There is nothing to worry about.”

“Yeah, I know, I just…I don’t know. I’m stressed about it. Tomorrow I get the answer to the question I’ve been asking for twenty-five years. I just can’t believe it’s almost here. And…I don’t know, there’s just a lot of variables. What if they don’t like me?”

“Come on, (Y/N), what’s not to like?” Natasha said, digging her spoon into her blizzard from the Dairy Queen.

“I don’t know…It’s just a lot to think about.” You said, leaving it at that. You didn’t know how to begin to explain to them that you had feelings for someone already, one of your coworkers no less, and someone who already had a soulmate, despite the fact that he’d lost her nearly a century before.

You wondered why Steve never looked for her. Or maybe she’d passed before he even resurfaced. It was sad. A guy like that didn’t deserve the heartbreak. He deserved to be loved.

The three of you finished your shopping trip and then returned to the Facility, where you unpacked the new odds and ends you’d acquired. Steve checked on you again, offering you words of wisdom, a comforting hug. He promised that your soulmate would love you, whoever they were.

Little did you know, he already did.

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