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thebeebi · 3 years

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your little games pt. 11

pairing: Jungkook x reader

warnings: fluff in later chapters, smut, non-con, mention of r*pe attempt, implied murder and many more! Read only if you are okay with these topics!

genre: historical AU, 18th century?

word count: 3k+ [part 11]

a/n: Hello! I hinted this and I am so excited to say that we are finally going to see what is Jungkook thinking (well to some extent). I hope you will like this chapter and are excited as much as me! ♥ Love you and enjooooy :)

taglist: @njrwifey @danietoww04 @kaithezaftig @she-is-dreaming [If you want to be added, just let me know :)]

You ran away from the man who tried to take an advantage of you. You stabbed him and escaped. Escaped to the arms of the handsome captain who was even worse than the man you just killed.

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10

You quickly shook your head and got nervous because his hand on your cheek started burning your skin. You knew that feeling and softly pulled yourself away. He knows that he has this kind of effect on me, yet he does it anyway. You thought about how close he was. He knows how much his touch scares me, yet he... You closed your eyes, trying to calm down. He was everywhere, surrounding you. At first, you almost paid no attention to his thighs but the soft touch on your cheek reminded you how close he actually was. “This one,” Jungkook pointed at one of the sketches. You opened your eyes and looked over to the side, curious what kind of dresses he likes. “It will look good in the golden colour. My wife will look beautiful in it.” Then he looked over other sketches, putting one aside noting that it looked too cheap. He chose another five dress and rejected two of the designs Mrs Dubois strongly recommended.

You were watching him speechless. He picked everything you would have chosen and what he rejected, you would have also rejected. It was like he was reading your mind. Jungkook then stood up and walked around checking out different dresses. He picked a few more and then returned to Mrs Dubois, paying her for all of them. You were surprised by how many dresses he actually got you. It was way more than you expected. You would have never chosen that many, not even if you were rich enough to do that. It felt surreal that he was this generous after what he told you before. “Do you agree with all of the dress I chose for you, my dear?” He asked you smiling but you knew it would not matter if you agreed or not. He bought the dresses for his own satisfaction and entertainment, so he could see you in dresses he liked. But you agreed with all of them anyways, you liked them. How could you disagree when he picked out the most beautiful ones?

You nodded. “You are really generous.” Jungkook looked at you from above, having a clear sight on your showing bust because the dress you were wearing was too revealing. Before he would love to see you in them but now it was different. He wanted to touch you right there and then but he reminded himself of his warning and promise. He looked away, making his way to Mrs Dubois. “I need one more,” he sighed. “ A dress my wife could wear right away.” Mrs Dubois looked around the shop thinking. Out of nowhere she randomly gasped and smiled. “Oui, monsieur, I have the perfect one I finished yesterday!” With that, she disappeared behind the curtain and brought back the dress. “Something like this?” You could hear her voice before she appeared once again. She showed Jungkook the dress that was made of sky blue velvet material. “Yes, pack them up for us. Now we will go look for some accessories to compliment the dresses we bought. Mrs Dubois, we are leaving in a week so I expect you to have everything ready by then.” The dressmaker opened her mouth to protest. “But, sir, that is impossible! At least a month please!” Jungkook shook his head. “I am sorry but we are leaving in a week so I will bring my wife back here in three days for the last measurements. In a week, I want everything on my ship. If you will make it till then and the dresses will be in good quality, I will pay you double, if not, then it is your loss. Do you agree?” Mrs Dubois could not let such an offer go free, so she nodded and shook Jungkook’s hand in agreement. “Very well, Monsieur Jeon. We have an agreement.”

The shops were full of well-dressed ladies and elegantly dressed gentlemen, that were pushing through each other to get to the place they wanted. They reminded you of yourself when you used to go happily to these shops with your father as a little girl. Your mood got suddenly better since the thoughts of childhood were always nice. You talked to the shopkeepers smiling, trying on the different kinds of accessories, laughing at yourself in the mirror, seeing how funny you looked. You were walking from one side of the shop to the other, charming everyone with your personality. Jungkook did not say anything, just nodded at the sellers whenever you wore something he liked. Well, he bought basically everything you tried because he liked how it looked on you.

He did not say anything even when you touched him and pulled him to another shop. He did not protest, he just let you guide him wherever you wanted. You never asked him for anything though, you never expected him to buy you anything. You just felt happy enough to be able to try on different accessories and to look at everything. You were watching all those charming ladies walking in front of you and laughed at their not-so-fit husbands that were trying to follow them. The smile on your face was genuine, you really enjoyed it because you felt like there were no worries in the world at that moment. You turned around, looking at different props of the shop that were decorating the interior and your hair was flying behind you whenever you turned too quickly. The men in the shop, even though they were attending to their wives, could not take their eyes off you.

The sun almost set down, once you stood still in front of the window of the shop. You were silently looking at the wooden crib. You softly touched the glass, as if you wanted to feel the connection with the crib behind it. You bit your lower lip and turned to Jungkook. He walked closer to you and looked at the crib. “I have a better one at home.” He told you. “It was mine but it is still in great condition. Mary always wanted me to have a child and use it as soon as possible.” You opened your mouth nodding then furrowed your eyebrows confused. “Mary?”

Jungkook smiled at the name. “Yeah, a woman who is taking care of my household.” He answered. “She had been working for our family even before I was born,” Jungkook turned to the main road and waved at the carriage. You walked closer to him and he continued. His voice was different than it was a few seconds ago. It was rough and you did not like the change one bit. “Mary was waiting for me to get married and become a father” He looked at you from the corner of his eye, head still looking ahead. “I am sure she will be happy once she sees you. When we come to my hometown, you will be pretty big.” You pulled the cloak that was on your shoulders around your belly. “You were supposed to get married once you came back. I am sure Mary is going to hate me for this.”

“She will not.” The tone of his voice did not allow you to ask any more questions. He looked at the incoming carriage. You weren’t sure why she would not hate you for what they…and you did to Jungkook. Something felt off but you weren’t sure what. When the carriage stopped in front of you, Jungkook told the carter the name of the tavern you were staying at, he put into the carriage all the accessories he bought for you and then he helped you get on. You slowly sat down and it felt like all the exhaustion came crashing down on you. The shopping was tiring and now all you wanted was to get to bed and sleep. You closed your eyes once you saw that Jungkook sat next to you.

Jungkook was looking at your head that started leaning on his broad shoulder. He softly took your head and placed it on his chest. You were softly mumbling in your sleep and your hand was falling into his loin unknowingly. Jungkook held his breath. The colour of his face disappeared and was cursing himself, for letting you have this kind of effect on him. You were driving him crazy. He was feeling as he were a virgin, who is preparing to have his first experience with a woman. One second he was feeling hot and was sweating, then in the other the blood in his veins froze and he could not move. Jungkook was the type of man who could get any woman he wanted without any bigger effort. He used to have sex for his own entertainment so this kind of feeling he is feeling right now is something new for him. You were too inexperienced and he was barely holding himself back from pulling you to his embrace. Where are my sanity and self-control? Where are they? Have they jumped down the dwell when I threatened her that I will never treat her as a husband? Am I acting like this because I realised I cannot touch her and that is why she became so desirable? He asked himself yet he knew it was not the case. He wanted you even when you disappeared and he thought he would never see you again. What are you doing to me, Y/N? You are almost not old enough to carry my child, yet you are here. So close. Jungkook’s inner fight was strong. His thought and reasonings could not deny the fact that he wanted to touch you, that he wanted to make love to you. He wanted you right there and then, he did not want to control himself. How long am I going to last with you by my side? How long am I going to last while watching your naked body without actually touching it? He sighed and clenched his jaw. He could not do anything with you even though he wanted it. He could not simply forget his threats. He swore he would make you pay for everything you did to him. No one is going to blackmail me without punishment. The pride will not let me do that. She is just a woman and they are all the same. I will get my mind off her once I see someone else. I have never met someone I could not get out of my mind. He reasoned within himself. But Y/N is…different. It would be unfair to her to say that is is not. He thought about all kinds of women that he slept with. They were all willing and very passionate when it came to love. They knew what they were doing but you were different. You were innocent, pure and he took your virginity by force. He was well-aware that you knew nothing about the men and love. And now you are his wife and are expecting his child. Only that reason is enough to say you are different. How could I forget the fact you are my wife, little one? That reason alone is enough to say you are different than them. He said looking at your sleeping figure. He was about to caress your cheek but the carriage abruprtly stopped in front of the tavern.

“Y/N?” he whispered softly with his lips almost touching your hair. “Should I carry to the room?” You moved your head that was leaning onto his chest. “What?” You asked while still being half-asleep. “Should I carry you to the room?” You opened your eyes, still in a daze. “No,” You answered but you did not even attempt to stand up. Jungkook smiled and covered your hand with his. “If you want, little one, we can ride around the town for a little bit more.” With a squeak, you sit straight up and pulled your hand from his. When you saw his smirk, you blushed and would love to die right away without feeling so much embarrassment. You jumped up and passed him by to open the door of the carriage. You almost fell out but Jungkook quickly held your waist to save you. He pulled you in the carriage and sat you up on his lap. “Did you want to kill yourself?” He asked coldly. You covered your face screaming “I hate you. I hate you. I HATE YOU.” Jungkook’s expression changed to even colder one. “Oh, I am sure you do.” He said sarcastically. “After all, if you did not meet me, you would still be living with your wonderful aunt while being treated like a rug and hiding your nakedness underneath the dresses that were ten times bigger than you needed. You would be hiding in the hellhole as an old virgin and you would never get to experience what it feels like to be a mother. Yes, how cruel and hateful of me to take you away from that wonderful place. You were so happy there and I should be struck with a bolt of lightning to actually take you away from such a peaceful place.” He stayed silent for a bit just to continue even more harshly. “You do not even know how many times I regretted that I let you seduce me with your looks and did not find out you were just a kid. Now I will have you around for the rest of my life and just thinking about it makes me mad. Oh only if I castrated myself before meeting you, I would have lived my life in peace!” Your shoulder drooped down and you let the tears you were holding out. You covered your eyes with the back of your arm and cried like a lost child. You never wanted to be a burden. You never wanted to be hated and unwanted.

When Jungkook saw how is your petite body shaking, the itch to hurt you disappeared. He frowned and the smirk from earlier disappeared. His chest felt heavy while looking for a handkerchief in his pockets. “Where did you put the handkerchief?” He sighed. “I cannot find it.” You shook your head while he was still holding you in the embrace. “I don’t know.” You replied in-between the sobs and panting for air. You wiped your tears into the hem of the dress while Jungkook was looking through your pockets. Meanwhile, the carter hopped down from his seat and walked to the open door. He looked inside asking unsurely. “Can I do something for madam?” He opened the door wider. “I heard the cry and it breaks my heart whenever I hear a woman cry.” Jungkook looked at him still frowning and kept looking for the handkerchief. “Thank you for the offer but my wife is upset that I will not let her mother live with us. When she will realise, that tears are not going to change my decision, she will stop.” The carter smirked at the remark. “In that case, I will leave it all up to you, sir. I should have been this straightforward when I got married too. I wouldn’t have been living with a witch now.” With that, he returned to the horses and Jungkook finally found the handkerchief that was hidden near your right breast. He pulled it out and wiped your tears, then let you blow your nose. “Are you feeling better?” He asked. “Can we go to the room, now?” When you nodded, Jungkook put the handkerchief back to the place he found it and let you stand up. Once you did so, he patted your butt and walked down the stairs of the carriage to help you down.

The tavern was loud, full of shouts of drunk sailors. Jungkook was pulling you through the tavern up the stairs to your room, hiding your red puffy face from the sight of the others. Jimin was sitting near the fireplace when he saw you and his captain, he jumped up and quickly followed you. When Jungkook opened the door to let you in, Jimin stood still in front of him listening to all of his commands. Jimin nodded and left to carry them out. With that Jungkook entered the room and closed to door behind himself, looking at you standing in front of the small sink, washing your face.

“Jimin went to grab food. I will not eat here today and I would like you to not go out of the room. I don’t think it would be safe without me. If you need anything, Jimin is going to be in front of the room. Ask him to do anything you want,” You looked at him over your shoulder whispering a soft: “Thank you.” Without any other words, Jungkook turned and left the room. You kept on looking at the closed door sadly.

The soft movement was like a swing of butterfly’s wings and it was so gentle, that is almost felt unreal. You were laying still underneath the blanket in the bed. You were worried that if you moved, the movement inside your belly would stop. You smiled once you felt it again but this time it was stronger. Your hand slid down to cup your belly and suddenly all your thoughts cleared up a little. Even though Jungkook was right, it was not easy. You would not get out of your aunt’s house to enjoy yourself. She would have watched you for the rest of your life if Jungkook did not take you away. You felt the movement again.

I will be a mother now and he will hate me for making me become that. But does it really have to be like that? It is hard to show him gratitude and affection when I know that he hates the ground I am walking on and the air that I breathe. He said he regretted meeting me. He would rather not be a man than to have me by his side. He was nice so far even though he hates me. I have to show him how grateful I am, I have to show him I am not a kid anymore but is not going to be easy. You were scared. Scared of him, his touch and things he is making you feel. But you wanted to try.

Chapter 12

a/n: The important question is: Did Y/N overreacted or nah? I am just curious about your opinion. Also, we are slowly but surely getting to the middle of the story! It is a long series I know! HAHHAA I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Love you all ♥

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kulaykape · 3 years

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Ina x MC: Bruised Knuckles

Summary: Poppy talks shit about Ina. Aliyah ends up with bruised knuckles.

Had a bunch of fun writing this one, especially the dialogue 😂 enjoy!

Tags: @jenxespinoza @domakir @citybornchick @simpingoverpixels @nydeiri @thepotatobleh @astrangeandunusualgirl @samanthadalton @sakaily

•••

Aliyah was grateful that she made enough money with music to not have to live on campus. Considering the complete and utter lack of effort she'd put into making friends with most of the assfaces at that school, it wouldn't have boded well.

Unlike Hughes, she hadn't bought into the socialite games that went on at Belvoire, and so she got left alone (for the most part, at least). But if she were to be a permanent fixture on campus, shit was going to go down.

Because by nature, Aliyah was great at stirring up trouble. Only when provoked, of course.

But as far as she was concerned, this counted as being provoked.

"Dude, did you hear about Professor Kingsley?" A voice that Aliyah faintly recognized- Michael, she recalled- said in a hushed voice.

Aliyah looked up from the work she was doing at a quad picnic table (a little arrangement project for music theory), and over her shoulder. She spotted Michael at another table with Carter, Luis, and Trixie. Out of all of them, Carter was the only one she got along with just fine.

He was the one to look curiously at Michael. "What happened? Did she do something?"

Michael shook his head. "It's just… you know, she's such a babe. But she's different from all the other girls here, you know?" He started.

Aliyah rolled her eyes as she tried to refocus on her work. She took comfort in knowing that Michael (and everyone else at the school) didn't know just how much of a babe Ina was.

"Duh she's different from all the other girls," Aliyah muttered, "She's a woman."

"Like, she's classy and stuff. I'd totally let her do whatever she wanted with me."

Aliyah sighed. "Me too, Mike," she muttered as she dragged the tip of her pencil across the notes as she checked them over, "Meee too…"

"Which is why I can't understand how the hell she was born working class!"

The scratching of Aliyah's pencil came to a halt.

What?

Ina's background was no news to her, not at all. "A fine enough home until Lilian got pregnant," Ina had said while the two of them were cuddling on Aliyah's couch one night, "I don't think I'll ever forgive them for throwing her out…"

Aliyah tossed her pen in her notebook and flipped it shut, focusing on listening to the conversation.

Carter frowned slightly. "Dude, I'm born working class."

"Yeah, but you're captain of the football team," Michael replied, "That's the easy route to where we're at. But Professor Kingsley's an anthologist or something like that, how'd she climb the social ladder?"

Before Aliyah could even begin contemplating the murder of a certain entitled one-inch boy, she spotted Poppy Min-Sinclair approaching the group. Darth Vader's theme might as well have started playing.

Poppy let out a scoff as she welcomed herself into the group and sat down. "Isn't it obvious? Look at the way she dresses. That skirt is three sizes too small for her flat ass," she ranted, "And who wears that much makeup to school?"

Aliyah nearly blew a gasket. What about the way she dresses? And Ina didn't even wear that much makeup!

And flat ass? Those were fighting words coming from Poppy Min-Sinclair, who was all but born without a pair of glutes to hold her skinny legs up with. Ina had cake.

"What do you mean, Pop?" Trixie asked dumbly.

Poppy let out an exasperated sigh as if everyone at that table were her subjects, and she was annoyed they hadn't bowed yet. "What do you think I mean, you idiot? She totally slept her way into Belvoire. Somebody born a poor can't afford the type of education to teach at Bel- AH!"

"Aw, sorry about that, Pops," Aliyah said, watching with a not-so-apologetic smile as Poppy flailed about, trying to escape the hot coffee that'd been poured on her lap.

She wasn't gonna notice the gum that was now in her hair at this rate.

"You BITCH!" Poppy screeched as she sprung off the table, manicured nails extended at Aliyah's smug visage.

"Woah, woah, Poppy!" Carter sprung to his feet while Trixie and Luis sat in shock, and Michael whipped out his phone.

"Worldstar!" He shouted.

Poppy grabbed for Aliyah's hair, but Aliyah was faster with her hands. She grabbed Poppy's wrists and shoved her back, stalking forward as she stumbled.

"You need to make sure nobody who can hurt you is around when you start talking shit about someone, Pops," Aliyah said, her voice still that same charming lilt as always, even though she was prepping to curb stomp some serious ass.

Poppy laughed mirthlessly. "Aww, did I touch a nerve, Diaz?" She asked, "No wonder you and Kingsley get along so well. She probably slept with the Dean or something to get here, and then you go and sleep with h- ahh!"

"Oh my god!" Trixie exclaimed, gripping Luis's arm.

"Damn!" Luis said, eyes wide as plates as he winced, "Remind me not to mess with her…"

Aliyah felt a sadistic kind of pleasure as her fist connected with Poppy's face and the girl practically crumpled to the ground. She could've sworn something cracked. Poppy started to subconsciously crawl backwards, her quickly-bruising face still twisted in rage.

"Get up," Aliyah demanded, "C'mon, I wanna do it again."

"Stay back!" Poppy shouted, holding her face.

Aliyah started towards Poppy again, but Carter jumped between them this time. "Aliyah! Hey, calm down! You beat her, okay?" He exclaimed as Aliyah struggled to get by him.

"Oh I haven't beat her yet," Aliyah said, flashing Poppy a mirthless grin over Carter's shoulder, "C'mon Min-Sinclair, you-"

"Aliyah," a firm voice cut through the air. Smooth and familiar, but Aliyah didn't yet register who it was.

She lurched towards Poppy again, but an arm shot out and caught her, wrapping around her waist like a vise.

"Aliyah!" The woman said again.

Aliyah snapped into consciousness at the scent of the orange perfume, and her mindless struggling came to a stop. Besides, Ina was hella strong, and there was no way Aliyah was getting out of that hold.

Aliyah panted as the exertion started to roll over her. She suddenly realized that something of a crowd had formed, and more than a few people had their phones out, snapping photos and recording videos for YouTube and Worldstar (and every posting site in between).

"Aw, shit," she muttered under her breath, chuckling. "You might wanna let go of me now, this looks compromising," she tilted her head back to whisper to Ina.

Ina slowly let her arm slip away, and then grabbed Aliyah's sleeve.

"Come with me," she said sternly, leading Aliyah away from the crowd. Poppy's eyes burned into Aliyah's back all the way.

"I'm going to destroy you, Aliyah Diaz."

---

"What the hell did I walk into the quad and see?!" Ina demanded before the door had even completely slammed shut.

"Me about to beat Poppy Min-Sinclair's flat-as-an-iPhone ass," Aliyah replied offhandedly, "You should've stayed back a little while longer. Waited until her face had turned purple to jump in."

Ina practically shivered with anger, "How can you treat this so lightly? Do you have any idea what could happen now?"

Aliyah turned to face Ina, and almost looked offended that she was upset. "You don't know what was going down," she retorted, "You shouldn't have even pulled me away."

"Aliyah, you could get expelled for this!" Ina exclaimed, grabbing the lower lapel of Aliyah's jacket and pulling her towards herself. Her voice lowered with graveness, "I know damn well that you have a brain, but you need to- what happened?"

Aliyah cocked a brow at Ina's sudden change in demeanor, until she noticed her scrutinizing her hand.

"Ow!" Aliyah jerked her hand away as she felt a sudden sting. Ina gave her an apologetic look. Aliyah looked down at her hand to find rapidly purpling bruises running across her knuckles. "Wow, that looks like it hurts," she said dryly, "And it does, by the way."

Ina clicked her tongue as she gently took Aliyah's hand again. "I thought you knew how to throw a punch correctly," she quipped.

Aliyah's breathed out a small laugh. "Can you kiss it better?" She asked in a babied voice.

Ina didn't so much as hesitate before leaning down to kiss Aliyah's knuckles gently. Her eyes flicked up to Aliyah challengingly, who hadn’t actually expected Ina to do it. Then she pulled her towards her desk. "Let me get you cleaned up," she proclaimed. It was more of an order than a request.

As Aliyah propped herself on the edge of her desk, Ina pulled some ice from her mini-bar. "I'm not going to let this go, you know," Ina said as she turned back around, moving to Aliyah and pulling her closer by her legs, "You could get expelled. Unless you tell me Poppy Min-Sinclair threw the first punch- which I sincerely doubt she'd have the guts to do- I can't think of a justifiable reason for you to do this to yourself."

"Her and her little clique were talking shit about you," Aliyah replied, voice harsh.

Ina didn't so much as bat an eye. While her hands handled Aliyah with care, her eyes were critical as they stared her down. "Aliyah, I appreciate you trying to protect me, but I don't need you to be my knight in shining armor," she retorted, "Especially when you get yourself hurt like this!"

Real anger flashed in Ina's eyes, and Aliyah found herself shrinking back for a moment. Ina was tiny, but that just meant she had less room to stow away her fury.

"Okay, I'm sorry," Aliyah managed meekly. Ina held her gaze for another moment, before breaking away with a sigh.

After making sure that there weren't any splits in Aliyah's knuckles, she placed the bag of ice atop her knuckles carefully and wrapped it up with gauze she kept in her desk.

When she was finished, the two of them stared at each other for a long moment, and then Ina leaned forward, cupping the back of Aliyah's head as she kissed her forehead.

"You're not very hard to restrain even when you're angry, you know," she muttered, chuckling as Aliyah bristled, "You need to hit the gym."

Aliyah smirked. "Only if you spot me on squats," she fired back.

Ina cleared her throat as her face delved into shades of red. "Much as I do like the idea of standing behind you while you're doing leg exercises, maybe we should wait to go to the gym together."

Aliyah hummed as she glanced at her hand. "Look, I'm sorry I upset you," she began, "But I'm not sorry that I assaulted Poppy. Nobody gets to objectify you or accuse you of sleeping into your position if I'm in earshot."

Ina cocked a brow as she stroked Aliyah's hair absently. "Is that all they were saying?"

Aliyah's frown deepened. "Poppy said you had a flat ass! The hell do you mean 'is that all'?"

To Aliyah's surprise, Ina threw her head back and laughed. "Ali, sweetheart, I'm well aware of what my ass really looks like," she replied, "Poppy's very biased opinion about it means little to nothing to me."

Aliyah grumbled as she wrapped Ina up in her arms, pulling her in for a tight embrace. "You don't have a flat ass, babe," she muttered in reassurance as she nuzzled Ina's shoulder.

Ina chuckled lightly as she rubbed circles in Aliyah's back. "Like I said, I'm aware," she pulled back a bit to give Aliyah a chaste kiss, "Now. Let's go deal with this situation before Poppy can fabricate a whole other story."

~end~

#ina kingsley #professor kingsley #queen b #ina x mc

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 years

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À la Carter

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Rating: T Word Count: 1572

Summary: Even when she’s helping Sam, Sharon has her own agenda.

Sharon’s fingers tap. They spread and pinch, manipulating the scale and definition of Riga’s rooftops. When she feels like she must be zeroing in, she stops, straightens from where she’s been leaning over the screen of her tablet.

She tosses back a swallow of her drink, a flinch around her eyes as the alcohol stings her cut lip. It had been a while since she’d had to fight her way out of a tight corner (or configuration of shipping containers), before Sam, Bucky, and their pet baron showed up in Madripoor. Her tongue prods the cut.

Her satellite access came through, like she knew it would, and John Walker’s no needle in a haystack. On her screen, he’ll be displayed as TRACKER 01, but his position might as well be stamped with the shield—that symbol of justice and virtue and treachery and regret and whatever else the thing stands for these days. She’s a little behind on American public perception when she only feels very loosely American herself. An expat snagged on the last unravelling thread of her former country’s flag.

Another sip, another wince, is punishment in advance. Sharon’s about to do what she does in this new life of hers: take her cut. Her deal with Sam is going to develop a deviation he doesn’t know about. It’ll be seamless, wasting very little of anyone’s time, a detour on the streets of Riga; the view lies between her forearms, resting on the glass surface of the table.

She likes Sam, likes him a lot. The patience and problem-solving in his eyes that say he’s actually listening. The way he looks without his shirt. His persistent trustworthiness when trust is something Sharon thought she no longer dealt in. No giving it out and no inviting it. People don’t just trust her here. That’s why she has hired security. But she’s already expecting Sam to follow through on his end of their deal and sort out her little being-labelled-an-enemy-of-the-state issue, so she’s committed to helping him. The instinct to is annoyingly natural.

Here’s the wrinkle in their verbal contract: the job’s personal. Sam and Bucky are aware of that, she’s certain, and she wonders if they’ve considered that she might be too. It isn’t about her freedom of travel between countries or the do-gooder urge—which Sam in particular appears to overflow with—to ensure Zemo is once again caught and held to account. It’s a Steve thing. She’s heard a lot of rumours (there’s one circulating in High Town at the moment, that Steve is on Mars, building the bones of Elon Musk’s Martian colony in exchange for a couple billion dollars and, presumably, his own self-respect), and it hurts that she can’t dispel any of them, even to herself. Sharon doesn’t know what happened to him. All she knows is that there’s a new guy slinging his arm through the straps of Steve’s old shield and that she doesn’t really feel as casual about it as she might’ve led Sam and Bucky to believe when she mentioned Walker to them. She’s angry. Because she looks at New Cap and wonders what it was all for.

She drums her fingers on the tabletop.

With a deep breath, Sharon touches the screen again. Now swiping intently, she finds TRACKER 01, AKA John Walker. She pulls her phone towards her because she should call Sam to tell him the location. And she will. What she’s going to do first is just for herself.

Hacking into Walker’s comms is surgical and effortless, not requiring payment or bartering like the satellite access, just the skills she keeps honed. Sharon enables a moderate vocal distorter and slides into the ‘secure’ channel. She’s determined to keep her anger and bitterness out of this side-mission, but with nowhere else to go, resentment climbs the back of her neck as an uncomfortable, spreading heat.

“Hey, John.”

“Who is this?” his voice snaps at the other end of the line.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that.” Sharon tilts back in her chair until she can prop the heels of her boots on the table, posture perfectly at ease as she goads him. “Do you prefer ‘John’ or ‘Captain America’?”

“Who are you? A fan?”

Well, she has to laugh at that.

“Um, yeah,” she gushes, channeling the preteen goddaughter she might’ve had if she were living a life where she could make real friends and have neighbours instead of hosting underground art auctions and sniping hostiles from an open window while two idiots from her old life sprint past on the street below. “Is this the Captain America Hotline?”

“Let me tell you, you are seconds away from being located and identified by the U.S. government,” Walker threatens. At least he’s smart enough not to hold on to his fan theory any longer.

“At ease, Cap. I’m not doing any harm.”

“What you’re doing is something incredibly foolish and you will reap the consequences.”

“It’s been a few seconds,” Sharon taunts. “Either the government’s found me and they don’t want to rudely interrupt our conversation or my capabilities exceed theirs. Which one do you think it is?”

“What do you want.”

It comes out flat and hard.

“No more warnings? You’re not going to try to brute-force your way to the conclusion of your choosing?”

“That isn’t always the best method.”

“Something tells me somebody taught you a lesson recently,” Sharon observes, crossing her ankles and rocking her feet side to side on the table. “How bad were you humbled?”

“I went up against the Dora Milaje.”

“So you really got your ass handed to you. I’m surprised you’d be so forthcoming about that. Stiff-upper-lipped soldier type.”

“I figure you could find that information if you really wanted it.”

“You’re being generous then? Saving me time?”

“I just want you to get the fuck off this line.”

“Back to business then,” she says.

She can hear Walker’s breathing change, from a heavy pant to the sound of him clearly trying to control it. Less background noise too, like maybe he just entered a building. She assumes he’s trying to be stealthy. That means he’s either sneaking up on the Flag-Smashers or fears they’re sneaking up on him. It’s almost time to quit toying with New Cap and alert Sam so he can soar in, kick a few asses, maybe save a life. While she goes back to drinking alone in High Town, knowing Madripoor is beginning to tear itself to bloody shreds with so many sharpened claws.

“What do you want?” Walker repeats.

“To tell you I wouldn’t have minded calling you ‘Captain America.’” Sharon shrugs for her own benefit. “It’s just a name, and yet… I think it’s going to bother you. Realizing that you won’t live up to it, I mean.”

“You’re pathetic.”

His breathing’s a little harsher again. He might be climbing a flight of stairs.

“John Walker, I almost feel sorry for you,” she says. “I might if you came off as less of an asshole.”

“Don’t waste your condescension on me. I don’t give a fuck what you think.”

She laughs at him.

“That’s ridiculous. What sort of man agrees to be Captain America when someone as incredible as Sam Wilson has just given up the shield? When the world doesn’t need to close their eyes to picture Steve Rogers still standing behind it? Walker, you stepped into a shadow that was still fading because you were too vain to miss your opportunity. Well now that shadow’s never going to fade,” Sharon hisses at him, her feet hitting the floor as she hunches forward, studying the orange tracker. “You think you’re standing in the sun, but you’re not. And it’s only going to get darker for you.”

“I’ll take my chances.” His voice is hushed, but the tone is arrogant.

“I’m sure you will. You’ll take them without any regard for anyone around you.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lectures. “I’m helping—”

“Of course you’ll say you’re helping people when, really, you can’t see past the larger-than-life persona you borrowed like a rental tux. It’s never going to fit, John. While you’re watching yourself, all those people are seeing the guy in the ill-fitting suit, the guy who thought he was going to pick up that shield and turn into Steve Rogers. You’ve got one thing in common with Steve: a name that would be forgettable without the actions you attach to it. Soon, you’re going to wish you really were that forgettable, but it’ll be too late. The world will be watching.”

Sharon closes the connection and throws herself back into her seat, slapping her phone to the table, almost too hard. She rubs her temple and mindlessly watches the tracker flicker back and forth; Walker must be moving around the building more rapidly without her in his ear to distract him. She could’ve done worse, gotten him discovered by the Flag-Smashers, gotten him shot. That’s further than she’s willing to go though because Sam’s given her this pesky sense of hope that her life won’t always have the blinding lustre of destruction. The high shine of a speeding car, the glint of the sun peeking past Icarus’s silhouette. It’s time to let Walker destroy himself.

And, because he must think he can get in the way of that and mitigate the fallout, it’s time to call Sam.

#my writing #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #The Falcon and the Winter Soldier #Sharon Carter #John Walker

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justlightlysedated · 4 years

Text

for @zuluoscarecho 🥰🥰

Michael is in the middle of changing the oil on Mr. Jameson’s ancient Chevy, when there are hands wrapped around his ankles rolling him out on the creeper from beneath the hood of the car.

Michael takes in the military uniforms, tactical gear, and the fact that they all have their faces completely covered and is immediately on guard, trying to figure out how to get out of this without actually revealing his secret.

"Are you Michael Guerin?" One of them asks, voice muffled by their masks, but the command in their tone is unmistakable.

"Who's asking?" Michael asks instead, not wanting to give an inch.

"His face matches the picture, Number Two," another voice pipes up. "We can just take him and confirm once-"

The voice is cut off with a painful sounding hiss, but Michael's eyes are narrowed and on the person who seems to be in charge here.

"What are the charges?" He asks, pushing himself up to his feet, and letting the creeper slide back underneath the car. "Because I know you can't arrest me without a warrant."

The group of four soldiers are all pointing their guns at him, except the one called Number Two, whose eyes look too amused for Michaels liking.

"Who says we're here to arrest you?" They ask, and before Michael can think of something to say to that, one of the soldiers closest to him moves, swinging his gun and catching Michael right on the side of the head.

Fuck, Michael thinks as everything goes black.

Michael comes back to consciousness violently, fists swinging and feet kicking, his knuckles smart when he actually comes into contact with someone, who grunts in pain.

"Calm down, Mr. Guerin," the same commanding voice from before says. "We're not going to hurt you."

The only difference in the voice is that it's not muffled anymore, which is the only reason that Michael opens his eyes and gives them a pointed look in answer.

The woman in question is standing in the middle of the room, she's tall and regal looking, blonde hair kept away from her face by a braid. The other three soldiers are sitting on the opposite side of the small room, two more women, one wearing a hijab, the other a brunette with her hair cut short and severe aligning with her chin and a blonde guy, built like a linebacker, hair buzzed on the sides and cropped short on top, rubbing a red spot on his cheek and glaring at Michael, all of them looking around the same age, which is not any much older than he is.

“The fact that you knocked me out and then brought me here, wherever here is says pretty much otherwise, so excuse me for not actually believing that,” Michael says, ignoring the pounding in his head to sit up, not really liking being in a vulnerable position around so many people, especially considering these people were soldiers.

The woman, who he figures is Number Two, straightens up even more, tucking her hands behind her back, and she somehow looks even taller than before as she starts to speak.

“Our apologies, but we need your help,” she says, and keeps speaking before Michael can ask what exactly they need him for.

“We are Troop Eleven-Zero-Six of the USAF, in charge of infiltrating and retrieving. I am First Lieutenant, Barbara Wilson, but everyone calls me Number Two. My team,” she motions over to them and they all introduce themselves, but Michael is still caught back a couple of sentences before when she said they were part of the USAF, the Air Force, meaning that this was either his one way ticket to a dissection table or this had to do with Alex.

“I’m sorry,” Michael says, interrupting the guy who’d been rubbing his cheek earlier. “But I don’t really care who you are. What do you want with me?”

The guy opens his mouth, probably to argue, but Number Two steps up, holding a hand out to stop him before he can say anything.

“As of 0600 hours yesterday morning, our Captain, Alexander Manes was reported MIA, during what was supposed to be a simple routine pick up. Our assumption is that he’s been abducted and is being kept somewhere outside of our jurisdiction. My team has been put on the sidelines and told to wait, while inexperienced older men debate whether or not it would be worth it to use the resources to find him.”

Michael had always known that the Air Force was going to get Alex killed.

Even though it’s been weeks since the last time that he reached out to Alex, the distance making their connection waver and spotty most of the time, like an old radio trying to pick up radio signals that are out of range, Michael reaches out for him almost subconsciously, and he is marginally relieved to feel a sharp irritated nudge back, even if it’s Alex Code for leave me alone.

“What do you need from me then?” he asks, partially because he thinks he already knows what. But at the same time, their soulmate status is something that they never actually discuss with each other, so Michael had assumed that Alex had never told anyone else.

“You are his soulmate, aren’t you?” The girl in the hijab, who Michael vaguely remembers, had introduced herself as Carter, no first name, asks stepping away from the wall she’d been propped up against.

“He’s obviously not,” the guy who he’d interrupted before, and is now labeling, Blonde Asshole, says, a sneer on his face. “There is no way some backwards cowboy hick from Roswell is the Captain’s soulmate. I told you we should’ve checked his mark while he was unconscious.”

“That is an invasion of privacy,” Carter says, sounding disappointed.

Blonde Asshole scoffs, “We’re in the middle of an unsanctioned mission.”

The woman with short hair sends a truly impressive bitch face to the Blonde Asshole, and Michael thinks she introduced herself as Sabrina, “That doesn’t give you the sanction to act like such an asshole. Oh, wait, that’s just a delightful part of your personality.”

Blonde Asshole makes a mocking face at her, “It would’ve saved us the trip. The Captain’s life is in danger. We don’t have time to-”

Michael gets to his feet, effectively shutting him up and turns to Number Two, who stares right back at him.

“Alex is in danger?” he questions, sending a wave of worry to Alex, which is immediately cut off with a stone cold icy wall, like Alex doesn’t want to give him even an inkling of what he could possibly be feeling right now, which usually would make Michael scoff and roll his eyes and go to the bar and drink until he can dull the awareness of Alex in his head.

“Yes,” she says, simply and effectively changing the mood inside of the room. “Our mission before he went missing was highly classified, and it’s entirely possible that it pissed off the wrong type of people, and this is their way of getting revenge. They’ll interrogate him to get as much information out of him first, and then they’ll kill him. And the Captain is a hard nut to crack. He’ll withstand the torture for a long time. But I wouldn’t put it past the Commander to just drop a bomb instead of risking a rescue mission.”

“So we’re not only on a time limit, but we’re also risking possible dishonorable discharge, not to mention actual prison time, so if you’re not going to be any help, you may as well tell us now so that we can find another way to save him,” Blonde Asshole says, and he potentially sounds worried, but Michael ignores him and keeps looking at Number Two.

“So what are we waiting for?” he asks, not caring that he hasn’t confirmed that he is Alex’s soulmate.

He is, which is all that matters. He doesn’t have to prove anything to anyone right now. They’ll get their proof soon enough.

“For the plane to land,” Number Two says, and the plane hits a spot of turbulence on an otherwise completely still flight, and Michael drops down back to the row of seats that he’d woken up on, feeling a little dizzy. He has never been on a plane, and he doesn't understand why knowing he's actually in one, makes him feel worse than not knowing.

Number Two just reaches out and pats his shoulder, “Rest up. Once we hit the ground, there’s going to be no time for that.”

Michael nods his head, thinking that that is easier said than done, but as soon as he leans back against the seat, he feels his eyes flutter close, exhaustion hitting him like a wave, dragging him under and before he knows it, Michael falls asleep.

After the plane lands, he gets shuffled into a standard armored vehicle, squeezed between Blonde Asshole and Sabrina, who asks him if he's an actual cowboy or if he just wears the hat.

Michael doesn't really answer because since the moment he touched the ground, wherever they are, since he didn't exactly get an itinerary before he'd been kidnapped, he could feel his awareness of Alex coming back in full force, and now that he was closer, he could tell exactly why Alex had been pushing and putting up walls, and trying to keep him away.

Their bond was bright hot red with his pain, and not only was he going through whatever it was causing him pain, torture being the likely candidate, but he was also actively trying to keep their bond blocked.

Michael closes his eyes and concentrates fully on the piece of Alex that he had inside of him, feeling it light up in the back of his head, and right on the center of his chest, warm and pulsing.

Alex sends out a drowsy question, probably wondering what the hell Michael is doing, and Michael sends back an image of getting pulled out from beneath the hood of Mr. Jameson's Chevy by his team.

He feels Alex’s alarm sweeping through him, and before he can say or think anything else, Alex drags him out of his head.

Michael gasps as he feels overwhelmed with pain, stinging from the tips of his fingers to an ache in his chest that makes it hard to breathe to the excruciating pain of what he’s pretty sure is at least one broken leg.

Michael opens his eyes with difficulty and takes a look around the cell that they have him in, but there are no windows, and even if he could find it in himself to move, whoever took Alex has his hands cuffed together and tied to his cuffed feet.

If Michael concentrates, he'll be able to tug against the bond and use his powers even while in Alex's body, but before he can, Alex is dragging him out of his head and into their mindscape, a phenomenon that only seems to be possible when an alien is your soulmate since it's one of the many strange things about their bond that isn't like anyone else's.

Michael lets Alex tug him forward and check him over, asking about a million questions, but he can barely hear any of that.

His entire focus is taken up by Alex. Even though he knows that in the mindscape he's nothing more than a projection of his subconscious, which is why he looks all of seventeen years old, the same exact age they were when they fell in love and formed their bond. Michael can't help but be relieved at the sight.

He misses Alex so much while he's away, even more when he's overseas and he can't even get this.

Alex stops speaking, probably noting the lovesick look on his face, and he sighs, but Michael can feel the swell of affection pulsing through him.

"Guerin, focus," Alex requests, snapping his fingers in Michael's face.

Michael blinks a few times before he nods his head, “I’m here.”

Alex nods his head, “Good, now tell me. What do they have on you? Because I can convince Wilson to get lost while I figure out how to get out of here.”

Michael is too charmed by the way he puts air quotes around lost and forgets to actually pay attention to what Alex is saying.

Alex shakes him a little, and Michael blinks a few times before he realizes what Alex is saying.

“Oh,” he says, shaking his head. “This isn’t about me. Well, not about the alien thing. It’s about our soulbond. They think I can help find you.”

Alex furrows his brow and shakes his head, “Tell them no.”

“It’s already a little late for that,” Michael says a little sheepishly, pushing his recent memories towards him.

Alex just inhales deeply and closes his eyes.

"Fine, okay," he says, sounding defeated. "My team is good at extraction, and having a direct line to me through you should get the job done, but-"

He stops himself and turns to Michael, looking at him with a pleading expression, "But you have to promise me that you're not going to do something reckless and dangerous and expose yourself."

Michael wants to tell him that he will do anything if it meant getting him back safely, but he also knows that it's probably a declaration that Alex doesn't want to hear.

"I'll just lead them to where you are and stay out of the actual fight, you don't have to worry about that,” Michael says, and Alex gives him a look like that’s asking for him to do something impossible.

Before either of them can say anything else, Michael feels a jolt of pain coming from Alex’s side of the bond.

Alex grits his teeth, shutting his eyes tightly and shaking his head.

“Is that why you push me away sometimes, because you’re trying to protect me from this?” Michael asks without actually meaning to.

Alex blinks his eyes open, and just looks at him, and Michael can tell that he’s on the right track, but now isn’t the time to be discussing this.

Alex just breathes in deeply, and then narrows his eyes at Michael, and Michael feels a deluge of memories, scents and sounds and limited vision, of the drive to wherever it was that they took Alex.

It’s not a lot, but it’s enough for Michael to piece it together.

“We’re going to find you,” he tells Alex, infusing the words with as much conviction as he can.

Alex gives him a wan smile in return. “I know.”

Michael just nods his head and Alex closes his eyes, and then Michael drops back into his body like he’s been dropped from a great height.

He jolts and his eyes snap open, and he sees Number Two and Carter, turned around looking back at him.

He can feel Sabrina’s hands on his neck, and wrist checking his pulse.

“Is everything okay?” Number Two asks slowly, eyes darting all over him, probably worried that they’d concussed him earlier.

Michael nods his head, “Just conferring with Alex. I know how to find him.”

Number Two looks at him for a long moment, scrutinizing, before she nods her head sharply, "Alright then."

She turns towards the front starting the truck up again while Carter hands him her tablet with their location and the map pulled up, showing real time images.

Michael grabs it gratefully and starts looking for something that matches the memories that Alex gave him.

"Let's go get our boy back."

#malex fic #2kcelebrationfic #this was the first thing to pop into my head when i read your prompt so i hope that you like it :D

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xxlittle0birdxx · 3 years

Text

Captain America: Try Some of That Life

'If you could go back, would you?'

Bucky's eyes flew up to Steve, looming over him with a large paper cup of coffee. 'What?'

'If you could go back to 1945, would you?'

Bucky took the proffered cup, raking his fingers through his hair. 'No,' he said after a moment's hesitation.

'Why not?'

Bucky held up his left arm, waggling the fingers. 'This, for one.' He pried the lid off the cup. 'And I don't belong there.' He gazed at Steve, who stared off into the distance. 'I've... changed... too much.’ Bucky took a long sip of his coffee and groped for a means to explain himself. ‘Do you remember when I convinced you to read The Hobbit?'

'Convinced? You forced me to read it. You were obsessed with that book.’ Steve’s smile took the sting out of his words.

'At the end, Bilbo had changed so much from his adventure, that when he went home, they thought he wasn't the real Bilbo. If I went back, I'm not the "real" Bucky. Not the one my mom would remember. He died in Germany eighty years ago.’

Bucky flexed the fingers of the vibranium arm. He’d started having nightmares again. Always the same ones. Always the truly innocent people the Winter Soldier had assassinated. Fleeing to whenever Steve proposed, though, seemed like the easy way out for him. ‘Just thinking about it makes me feel like I'm running away from the things I did. But you…? You're still Steve. I dunno if it's because whatever they did to you in the war made all the good stuff that much better, or if it's who you would be no matter what.' He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees.

'What if I did something selfish?'

Bucky scoffed, 'I don't think you're capable of being selfish.'

'What if I stayed…?'

Bucky's breath caught in his chest. 'Peggy Carter?' he asked in a bare murmur.

'Yeah.'

'Do it.' It fell from his lips without a second thought. 'Go be happy. You've spent ten years of your life living it for other people. Go live the life you want to have, not the one you think you should have.' He bumped his fist against Steve's knee. 'Do it.'

Steve's lips pursed and he scuffed the toe of his running shoe against the wooden step of the gazebo. 'You sure? I don't want you to think I'm abandoning you.'

'You're not abandoning me.' Bucky scrubbed the side of his hand under his nose. 'It's just the end of the line.'

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and blew out a few short breaths. 'In that case…' He dug in his pocket and tugged out a small, red notebook. He cleared the sudden thickness in his throat. 'I'm passing this on to you.'

'What is this?' Bucky flipped through a few of the pages.

'This is what I used to try and catch up to the world.' He flicked the edge of the page. 'Do the things. Eat the Thai food and binge everything Star Wars has to offer.' He ran a fingertip down the list. 'And this…' He pointed to Trouble Man. 'Sam's favorite album. He loves Marvin Gaye.'

'Okay.'

'Promise?'

Bucky closed the notebook and slid it into his jacket pocket. It rested there, heavy with portent. 'I promise.'

Steve lifted his cup to his lips. 'If it all works out right... Do you want the shield?' he asked, even though he already knew what the answer would be.

'No. Not now, not ever.' The words all but flew from Bucky’s mouth. He hunched his shoulders. 'You see getting the serum as a gift. You've used it to help people. For me, it’s only ever been a curse. All I've ever done with it is hurt them.’

‘That’s not true,’ Steve interjected.

‘I killed innocent people.’

‘That wasn’t you.’

Bucky hitched one shoulder in a shrug. ‘Maybe not in here.’ He touched his temple lightly with one finger. ‘But I was still their tool. I don’t wanna be put in that situation again. And if I take the shield from you, I’d have to sign the Sokovia Accords.’ He shook his head. ‘If I never use it again, it'll be too soon.' Bucky brushed the hair from his eyes and nodded toward a distant figure, running at a steady pace through the town. Sam reminded him of Steve. That same sense of doing what needed to be done simply because it helped other people. He gestured with his chin and gave Steve an inquiring look.

'Yeah. World’s going to need someone like him.’

'Good. He's a good man.'

'You should get to know him better,' Steve mused, watching Bucky watch Sam. 'You need him. And he needs you. More than either of you really know.' Bucky nodded absently, ruminating on how the tables had turned. There was a time when he would have been the one looking after Steve. Now Steve was making sure he didn't fall behind or get lost.

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes until Steve said quietly, ‘Let’s keep this between you and me, okay?’

‘You don’t want anyone to try and talk you out of it,’ Bucky ventured. Steve nodded. Bucky took in a deep breath and released it slowly. ‘Okay.’

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky & steve #the end of the line #before steve goes back with the stones #handing off his red notebook #not really getting bucky's blessing to pass the shield to sam #but really getting bucky's blessing to pass the shield to sam #avengers: endgame

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the-great-imagines-of-1812 · 4 years

Text

Through The Years pt. 6 (Bucky Barnes x Stark! fem! reader)

tags: @a-girl-who-loves-disney @the-romanian-is-bae

A/N: feedback is appreciated! And OH MAN- is it sad. It’s a long chapter. And guys, we’re nearly done with the first avenger, moving on to The Avengers after this! Also, I’ve decided to update this every weekend. no specific date, but if i can, it will be updated from Friday-Sunday. :)

Summary: After rescuing Bucky, Y/N and the 107th from the Hydra facility in Austria; Steve Rogers begins work to assemble to Howling Commandos; an elite task force of top-ranking soldiers that are able to do what regular soldiers never could.

~~~~~~

DECEMBER 12, 1944

LONDON, ENGLAND

You walked into the cozy, crowded London pub with your hair done up nice, and that sky blue dress you loved. Why Steve called you here to meet, you’ll never know.

Eyes scanning the area, you spotted Steve and a couple of other men sitting around a table with drinks. Steve looked up and saw you, ushering you over to the table. Everyone else went silent.

“Gentlemen, this is Y/N Stark. She’ll be joining us this evening.”

You sat done as of the men, with a darker complexion said “The Lieutenant General? What are you doing? Assembling an elite task force?”

Giving a curt nod, “That’s exactly what I’m doing, Gabe. Now please settle down.”

Steve passed you a beer and started explaining. “An elite task force, of sorts. To be able to do what regular soldiers never could.”

After almost an hour of explaining, you put a hand up. “Steve, this is an excellent idea. If we didn’t almost die last time! You really want us to go back?”

Agreements were heard around the table. “What the Stark over here said!” exclaimed Dum Dum Dougan as he clinked his glass with yours.

“Well- it sounds fun actually. I’m in.” Falsworth said.

Two of the other men agreed, and Steve looks at you. “Y/N, you in?”

Sighing, you said “I’m in. This better work, Captain.”

“You have my word, Lieutenant General. What about you, Dougan?”

“Well- I’m in. But as long as you open a tab, Captain.” Said Dougan, chugging the last of his beer.

“Of course. Y/N, help me out?” Steve asked.

“Let’s go.”

You both gathered all the mugs on the table and walked into the bar in the next room. “Buck! What’re ya doin’ here?” you said, walking over to sit next to him in surprise. He finished the last of what looked like scotch. You grabbed both of his hands in your own “I thought you had sniper training for another week!”

He scratched the back of his head nervously, but then intertwined his hand with your own. “They let me off early, doll. Christmas is up soon, after all. I wanted to see my best girl.”

“You make me blush too much.” you settled into your seat and waved the bar tender for a drink.

“So- are you two ready to follow Captain America to the jaws of death?” Steve said, sitting on your other side.

“Hell no. That little guy from Brooklyn who was never afraid to back down from a fight. I’m following him.” Bucky said, throwing an arm around your waist.

“As for myself, I’m following that boy I met in the lab one day who wasn’t afraid. The little guy who was willing to trust me and brother with his life even though he had only heard about us through a radio. That’s a hero. I’m following him.” you said.

The bar went completely silent, and the three of you turned your head to see the source.

“Peggy! My goodness you look radiant!” you said, grabbing her hands.

“That’s all you, Y/N. She said, pecking both your cheeks and turning to Steve.

“Captain.”

“Agent Carter.” Steve said, obviously nervous at the sight of her.

“Ma’am.” Bucky said in greeting.

Peggy glances at you and then at Steve again. “The Starks have new equipment for you to try, tomorrow morning. 0800 hours. Don’t be late.”

She then turned around and walked out. “It’s like I’m invisible, Steve.”

“Relax, Buck. Maybe she has a friend.”

“Rogers! I am the friend!” you said, feigning offense.

“And for that-” Bucky said, wrapping both his arms around you from behind. “I am the luckiest man in the world. Fancy a dance?”

“You know I do.”

~~~~~~

THE NEXT DAY.

“Me, Rogers, I concentrate on work, not fondue-ing. You’ll never know what goes on inside a woman’s head as long as you say that. But right now work consists of making sure my sister’s soldiers don’t get killed.” Howard said, leading Steve to a table.

“Good morning Steve!” you said, slapping him straight across the face.

“What was that for?” Steve said, nursing his cheek with his hands. “That’s for hurting Peggy. I know what you did.”

“She doesn’t even-”

“Not another word from you. I keep you around because my brother likes a soldier like you.”

“Like I said, Rogers, you never know what goes on inside a woman’s head. Especially my sisters.” Howard said.

“That’s enough, you. Anyway, Steve, this is carbon polymer. It should withstand your average German Bayonet-”

“Because HYDRA’s not going to attack you with a pocket knife.” Howard said, guiding Steve around the table. You followed close behind.

“Anyway- Steve. I saw you’re quite fond of that play shield of yours. The prop right?” you said.

“These, Rogers are prototypes. We’ve made each and every one, in any way deemed possible from Stark technology.

Steve looks over all the shields, then points at one on the bottom. “What about this one?”

“A failed one.” Howard said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Made of the same stuff my sister’s armor is.”

“Starks, are you almost done?” said Peggy, strutting in.

Steve then proceeds to smile at her, as if to ask if she approves of the shield. She then proceeds to pick up a gun and shoot three times at it. It startles the entire lab.

“I like it.”

You put a hand on Steve’s shoulder as she walks out. “She really is pissed, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I had some ideas about the uniform?” he hands you both a piece of paper.

“Whatever you want.”

~~~~~~

JANUARY 30TH, 1944

BELGRADE, SERBIA

You used your powers to crack open the doors, and the Howling Commandos shot up the place, shooting HYDRA officials left and right. Dougan put a bomb on the power plant, set the timer, and you all ran out.

As you boarded the truck and left, the base exploded, and the rest of the Howlies cheered. “That’s another one down, boys! Where are we off to next?” you said, slinging your gun back on your shoulder and putting your swords back in their holders.

“Kharkiv, in Ukraine.”

“Let’s go!”

~~~~~~

APRIL 24, 1944

MANHATTAN, NEW YORK CITY

“Welcome back to Channel 2, your news on the radio. Captain America and his team of - er- Howling Commandos? Captain America and his elite soldier task force, The Howling Commandos have invaded the Russian HYDRA base. It’s the 14th base they’ve taken down this year, and at this speed, they’ll secure a victory for the allies.”

“This team consists of a rag-tag gang of hopeful soldiers, including Stark Industries co-founder, Y/N Stark, making her the first woman to serve in the Army of this great nation!”

~~~~~~

THE ENGLISH CHANNEL.

JULY 16, 1944. 3:00 AM.

It was a quiet and cold night as the boat creaked and made it’s way up the channel. After taking down another HYDRA base in Milan, The Howling Commandos crossed France, and made their departure from Brussels, Belgium and where now headed for another HYDRA base in Oslo, Norway, before returning to London for a rest.

Sitting in your bed, in the bunk you shared with Pinky, who was snoring away, while you couldn’t catch a wink of sleep. Turning on the tiny oil lamp, you pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. You were long overdue to write a letter to Howard.

Howard,

Hello Brother! Today is the 16th of July, 1944. It’s currently 3 am and we’re on the English Channel. We haven’t been able to catch a break. The Milan base was something else. But we got to rest up for a few days in Czechoslovakia, although we couldn’t stay long; Nazi territory. But me and Bucky where able to take a few pictures together, with Jim’s camera. They’re enclosed. I can’t detail much about where we’re headed next; but I can tell you this is not how I imagined traveling the world, with me being on the Axis Powers’ wanted list. Guess we’ll have to do it all again when it’s over. Have you received any letters from Maria? I can’t believe you haven’t introduced her to me yet. I can’t wait to meet her.

The Better Stark, Y/N.

Carefully putting the letter inside the envelope, you would give it to the captain in the morning to mail it. Wrapping a silk robe around your nightgown, you made your way to the main deck. It was nights like these that made you hopeful of a world without war. Taking a deep breath and staring out at the water, you heard a creak behind you, slowly turning around-

“Hiya there, darlin’ ” Bucky said, wringing his hands together. He looked nervous.

Giving him a smile, you wrapped your arms around him and brought your lips to his, giving him a peck. “What’re you doin’ awake, Buck?”

“s’ couldn’t sleep. Heard you got up. Thought I’d keep you company.” he said, bringing you to rest on his chest.

“The stars look beautiful tonight.”

“You know who else looks beautiful tonight, doll? you.”

“Buck, I-”

“I want to watch the stars with you forever.” he clenched is jaw. He was practically shaking.

There was a silence, with the exception of the waves crashing against the boat.

“Marry me.”

“Bucky, what?”

“You heard me correctly. Marry me, won’t you?”

“I- but my brother. And there’s a war- elopement?”

“No buts. I asked permission via a letter. Should’ve seen him. And I checked with that Captain of yours Tommy Andrews, was it? He has a license. We could get married the second we get back to London.”

“Let’s - Let’s do it. I love you so much, Buck.”

“Yeah? Ready to become Mrs. Stark-Barnes?”

“Born Ready.”

He kisses you deeply, wrapping his arms around you and stroking your hair when you separated. He was the luckiest man on earth.

~~~~~~

CHRISTMAS EVE 1944.

LONDON, ENGLAND.

It felt to so good to be back in London. It was truly a second home at this point. It had been a few months since getting engaged, and a few weeks since your last HYDRA base explosion in Hungary.

Bucky had given you his mother’s ring, a plain gold band. But you loved it nonetheless. It symbolized the relationship you had built over the past year, and the love you would share as husband and wife.

Howard hadn’t been thrilled, but didn’t let it show for your sake. Which brings you to where you are now, At Peggy’s townhouse in London, celebrating Christmas Eve with the fellow Howlies, Howard, General Philips, and Tommy Andrews, all sitting around the dining table.

“So- you two got engaged. Kept it a secret for months- and pretended it would be okay to tell us a week ago?” Dum Dum Dugan said, wiping his mouth after chugging his beer.

“I know right- they are really the most rude.” Howard said, sitting back with a smirk, sipping his wine.

“Howard, leave the kids alone. When’s the wedding?” General Phillips asked.

“Well we were- we really have no idea. There’s not very many venues open.”

Tommy interrupted “I could do it.”

There was silence around the table. “I’m licensed. In 40 states, actually.”

Peggy smiled at this. “A Christmas wedding!”

“We’re all here! It could happen.”

“Hear, Hear!”

Before you knew it, Tommy had grabbed a bible and everyone had been sitting around you and Bucky, watching you.

“Repeat after me. I take you, James Buchanan Barnes as my loving husband, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.”

“I take you, James Buchanan Barnes, as my loving husband, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live.”

“I now pronounce you- husband and wife. You may kiss the bri- or you could do that too.”

Bucky was kissing you deeply, with hand at the back of your head and one around your waist, spinning you around.

“Alright, Alright. Break it up. Welcome to the family, Barnes.” Howard said, shaking his hand.

Yeah. A Christmas to remember.

~~~~~~

FEBRUARY 1ST, 1945.

THE SWISS ALPS.

It had been almost two months since you had married Bucky on that warm Christmas Eve in London. Ever since then, the smell of hope in the air had followed you into the new year.

The Allies were closing in. It would only be a few more months before the war was over, or so Winston Churchill had said over the radio. Now, you were on one of the last missions with the Howlies. It really wasn’t the last mission, but you could feel it in the air. All the war and destruction was finally going to come to an end.

“This won’t be like Coney Island, right? Where you made me ride the cyclone and I got sick?” Bucky asked, gripping our hand.

“You did that, Steve?”

“I did, Y/N. And why would I do that now?”

“We were right, Steve. Zola’s on the train.” Gabe said, leaning closer to the radio to hear the transmission. “We’re in the right place. HYDRA’s given him permission to open the throttle. Wherever he’s going, they must need him badly.”

“We must get going. They’re moving like the devil.”

“Well. We’ve only got a ten second window! You miss that window, we’re bugs on a windshield.” Steve said, putting his hook on the zip-line.

First was Steve, the, Bucky, then you, followed by Gabe.

Quickly, the four of you had moved across the top of the train and gotten inside. You were shooting up the HYDRA soldiers, but they just always did seem to be one step ahead of you.

You had successfully dodged several bullets, until a hole was blown into the middle of the train. It had pulled you and Bucky out, hanging by a single metal bar.

“Bucky! Y/N! Hang on! I’m coming to get you!” Steve yelled.

You tried to use your powers to move the bar up, but it didn’t seem to work, and it hurt your head immensely, causing you to scream.

“Stevie! Stevie. Take her first. Please. If anyone makes it out of here, its gonna be her.”

“Bucky, no! Hang on, please!” you said, through sobs.

“We’re going to be okay! Steve, grab her arm.”

Steve was able to pull you to the train safely. Now the situation was getting Bucky in.

“Bucky, grab my hand!”

Bucky reached out to Steve, but what he didn’t realize was that this was putting to much weight on the bar.

You’ll never forget his screams as he fell down. It would haunt you as long as you lived.

“NO! BUCKY! COME BACK!”

You could hear Steve crying before eventually helping him on the train. He collapsed into your arms, both crying.

James Buchanan Barnes; soldier, friend and husband was gone.

~~~~~~

A/N: I nearly burst into tears. feedback is appreicated!

- Talya

#marvel #marvel imagines #marvel x reader #marvel x you #Marvel x Y/N #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x stark! reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #howard stark x sister reader #peggy carter #peggy carter x best friend! reader #howard stark

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agentxthirteen · 4 years

Text

The “Sharon Carter Is Just A Love Interest” post (to cut & paste when necessary)

Ways in which Sharon is NOT just a love interest:

When we first meet Sharon, she’s an undercover agent directly across the hall from Steve. We don’t know how long she’s been there, or how well they know each other, but Steve feels comfortable badly flirting with her. We find out the next time we see her, when Fury’s been shot, that he assigned her to protect Steve. So we know she’s capable enough that Fury - Director of SHIELD - trusts her to protect him. The movie implies that she’s there to protect him from external threats, and that’s possible, too, but it’s also likely that she’s there to protect Steve from himself. Tie-in materials mention Steve’s depression and potential for suicide. Sharon is undercover as his neighbor instead of someone across the street (as Winter Soldier was) because she needed a reason to interrupt him if SHIELD or herself were ever seriously worried about his mental state. She could break his thought process.

It’s also important to note that Fury only warns Steve that “they’re” listening. It makes sense to have video - at least in some parts of the apartment - to make sure Steve isn’t hurting himself. But there aren’t any. Why? Probably because Sharon was across the hall. She didn’t just protect his mental state - she protected his privacy. She doesn’t say Fury assigned her to a team to protect him, he assigned her to protect him. It’s likely she’s the one who insisted on giving Steve as much privacy as possible.

Fury was assassinated by the Winter Soldier but lived 1) long enough to make it to surgery and 2) he’s still alive, actually. He says he did it with the help of a drug, but Sharon was the one who stayed with him after he was shot. Steve went in pursuit of Winter Soldier. Sharon stayed to keep Fury alive long enough for emergency services to get there.

When Steve goes in to talk to Pierce, he sees Sharon. Upset that she deceived him (Tony was a bit miffed when he found out Natasha had deceived him), he only greeted her with “Neighbor.” Instead of fawning over him or looking hurt or ashamed at doing her job to protect him, Sharon half-rolls her eyes and keeps walking.

Sharon is the only one to question why SHIELD is hunting down Captain America. She likely got into SHIELD because her aunt, Peggy, founded it, and she believed in its ideals. She’s the only one in the room not to blindly follow along with orders and question them instead.

Sharon is also the first one to pull a gun on Hydra. After the - at the time, nameless - tech refuses to comply with orders for Hydra and they pull a gun on him, Sharon gets over her shock at Hydra infiltrating SHIELD and goes to defend him. It’s only after she reacts that other SHIELD loyalists do, too. Maybe she isn’t a leader to them (although she is seen in a supervision role helping multiple tables instead of just her one), but her action is what galvanizes them to act. She takes on Rumlow - an elite member of one of SHIELD’s elite fighting forces - and not only does she survive, but if he hadn’t run behind bulletproof glass, she would have killed him.

Her final scene in Winter Soldier is when she joins the CIA. Does she join because that’s all she knows? Does she join because she’s hunting down Hydra on her own? Does she join because Fury asks her to? We don’t know. But we know from Agents of SHIELD that SHIELD agents are all considered terrorists after the Trisk falls until it’s proven otherwise. This scene shows, once again, that Sharon is a skilled marksman.

Time on screen: ~2 minutes, 30 seconds.

We next see her attending Peggy’s funeral. Given how many enemies Peggy likely had, this puts a huge target on Sharon’s back. She does it anyway. This is also where Steve first realizes who, exactly, Sharon is. And it’s important to note that Sam is the one who recognizes Sharon first, even though we’ve never seen them interact in canon before. Does this mean they’ve met? Does this mean Sam has seen her through some other means, like Steve’s sketches? We don’t know. But we know that Sam recognizes her and knows that Steve needs to see this ASAP from how Sam nudges Steve and stares at Sharon. Keep in mind that at this time, everyone knew about the Accords. And Sharon’s stories about Peggy help inspire Steve to stick to his ideals and fight for them when he has to (kind of a major part of the film).

Steve and Sharon talk after the funeral as he walks her to her hotel. She reminds him that she was just “doing her job.” He seems to accept it. She tells him that she didn’t tell Peggy because she didn’t want Peggy to have to keep a secret from him. Is it true? Or was Sharon concerned that a dementia-ridden Peggy would spill the beans? Or did Peggy remember Sharon at all at that point? We don’t know. This is all we have to go on.

Again, their flirtation comes to nothing. They’re interrupted by Sam when he comes to tell them of the bombing at the UN. Sharon helps organize the investigation and then goes to Berlin and supervises others. She’s only been with the CIA for two years - possibly a little less - but she’s already supervising.

Later, she joins Steve and Sam at a bar and gives Steve the folder on where to find Bucky. She makes a point of telling them about the “shoot on sight” order. At this point, multiple people - even Avengers - had been looking for Bucky for years. And Sharon, with her resources, finally helped Steve find him. Not only that, she helped Steve save his life. Why? Some people think she did it just to get in Steve’s pants, but we know from storyboards that it’s a calculated decision on Sharon’s part. She knew that the Winter Soldier could kill everyone sent after him - except for Steve. As she says in the storyboards, she called the right man to do the job. (source) But she also must have known that Steve would NEVER kill Bucky, whereas an Interpol sniper could have taken out Bucky, so her intention must be to keep Bucky alive. We know that she has ideals - perhaps that includes an actual investigation and fair trial. Or perhaps she thinks Bucky may be brainwashed. We don’t know. But her actions to keep Bucky alive arguably save his life.

We see this intelligence on screen shortly thereafter as she and Steve deduce that the goal was to bring Bucky into the UN facility (assuming he wouldn’t be killed, at least). Just then, Bucky is triggered and goes into Winter Soldier mode. Sharon is the one who tells Steve and Sam where to find him - because she knows that Steve has the best chances of stopping him before Winter Soldier kills people.

She then teams up with Tony and Natasha and tells them to follow her. Even though she isn’t an Avenger, Sharon is already acting as support for the Avengers on site to help them do their jobs and save lives. And she doesn’t refrain from joining in the fight, either. There’s fear on her face as she fights Bucky, but she still does so. The implication is that if she can’t stop him, she can at least slow him down and buy other people time to get away.

She’s only in one more scene in the movie, the one where she gets Steve his gear, Sam his wings, and possibly a change of clothes for Bucky. Again, people have tried to skew this as Sharon just doing it to get in Steve’s pants, but remember - at this point, the group there’s a group of winter soldiers that Zemo is going to release and control. She’s not getting him his shield because she’s trying to seduce him (hell, he’s the one who asked her out two years before, and also the one who first pulls her into the kiss. He’s the instigator). She’s getting him the shield because it will enable him to save people. She doesn’t even seem to hold a grudge against Bucky - she seems more amused that he tried to kill her and is currently in the back of a Volkswagon Beetle than mad.

She’s also the one who leaves. We don’t know where she went. We only know she didn’t join in on the fighting because Marvel got to use Spider-Man (without him, Ant-Man would have been on Tony’s side, and Sharon on Steve’s to even things up). Before she goes, though, Steve tells her they’ll be coming after her, and she replies that she knows.

Time on screen: 5 minutes. (Yep! If you do the math, she did all of this in 7 1/2 minutes on screen)

That’s the thing, though. It was never about romance for Sharon. It was always, always, about doing what she thought was right. She went into SHIELD because she wanted to save people. Questioned orders because she didn’t trust the orders. Gave Steve info on Bucky because she thought even a brainwashed assassin deserved saving. She got Steve and Sam their gear because she knew it was the best way to save people. And what does she get for it? Multiple hard-earned careers destroyed and a fugitive status.

Sharon is, ultimately, a good person. Not just a love interest. Fandom loves to reduce women to love interests, but no woman is ever ~just~ a love interest. Kissing someone, being loved by someone, does not erase a woman’s character, personality, and accomplishments.

So what can you do if you’re worried, after all this, that Sharon will still be reduced to “just” a love interest?

ACTUALLY SUPPORT HER.

Tweet @MarvelStudios, send in emails, write letters, get buzz going about how you want to see Sharon as a fully-rounded character. Ask questions about Sharon’s story that we haven’t gotten. Where did she go when she was on the run? Why did she join the CIA? How much did she help Fury? Why have we seen so little of her?

If you claim to “support women characters” and all that jazz, actually do it. Stop putting women down for finding love/being loved. Start propping them up by demanding more screentime and development for their characters.

If you’re really bold and want to put your actions where your words are, you can also follow Sharon fanblogs and reblog fanfic and fanart that doesn’t put her down. It’s alarming how many Sharon “supporters” only support her when it comes down to her needing to be independent and not “just” a love interest, but their blogs are devoid of any actual support.

(Oh, and in case this post isn’t enough, there’s another essay with things I missed about how she isn’t reduced to a love interest here.)

#sharon carter #just a love interest #what more should i add?

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existing-on-cloral · 4 years

Text

Brooklyn’s Night Terrors

Chapter Twelve: French Girls

Steve comes home from the hospital. He takes his scientist with him, planning for some domestic bliss, but the Reaper has other ideas.

You drove Steve home from the hospital in Bucky’s car. Of course, due to his healing factor, he had been able to get back to work sooner, and you were thankful for it. More heroes on the streets fighting against the Reaper, the better.

Steve was silent the whole car ride, and your thoughts drifted to the last time you’d seen him, when Peggy had interrupted the two of you. Was he thinking of her?

You quickly shook off the thought. Jealous would get you nowhere, and besides, you knew better. Still, you couldn’t resist asking as you pulled into the apartment complex’s parking lot.

“Steve?”

He turned his head ever so slightly to looked at you. “Yeah, doll?”

“What happened with Peggy?”

A quiet laugh escaped his lips. “Someone’s jealous.”

“I... It’s not like that.” You gripped the steering wheel, knuckles whitening. “I promise, I just want to know.”

Steve turned away again. “We talked. I explained that it had been years since I last saw her, even though for her, it was just days. I can’t explain how that made me feel... Not guilt, since I moved on, but something else. I just... I don’t know.”

You set a hand on his shoulder. “Steve, it’s okay to be confused. The last time you saw her was in a casket, and now she’s alive and well.”

“I know, but... It’s nice to see her.” He moved a hand to hold yours. “You don’t feel threatened?”

“God, no.” Your lips broke into a smile. “Stevie...”

“Bucky used to call me that,” Steve said, and pulled you into a kiss.

His apartment door crashed open and the two of you spilled inside, giggling like teenagers. Steve slammed the door shut and locked his arms around your waist, kissing you again and lifting you up. You kissed him back, biting at his lower lip until it swelled into your mouth, red and plump. He almost literally threw you onto the counter, kissing down your neck and collarbone.

“Wait, shit,” you cursed. “Steve, I’m not... You always had a condom...”

Steve withdrew reluctantly. “Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair and pulled you back to your feet. “Right. I think I need to run to the drugstore. You gonna be okay here?”

You reached up and tugged on his hair, pulling his lips back to yours. “I love that you still say drugstore, you old man.”

Steve smiled against your lips and he broke away, holding your face in his hands. “What did I do to deserve you, baby?”

“Something good,” you said dreamily, grabbing his hands and taking them from your face.

“Fifteen minutes.” He grabbed his keys off the hook and turned to the door. Before he opened it, he turned back to you and added, “That’s how long you’ve got to be on my bed, no clothes. Got it, doll?”

You swallowed. Oh, you could get used to this Steve. “Yes, Captain,” you teased, then filed the nickname away when Steve tensed. “Kinky.”

“I’ll show you kinky when I get back.” Steve walked out of the apartment, locking the door behind him.

Wow.

You turned away from the door and took in your surroundings. You’d been here a few times, but every single visit brought something new. He had old photographs littering every possible surface, a coffee pot with a dent he swore looked like a heart (it didn’t), and a throw pillow with the words There’s No Place Like Home stitched across it. The apartment was a mishmash of everything Steve, and you loved it.

Remembering Steve’s order, you walked into the bedroom, breathing in his scent deeply. Then, since you still had a little time, you went to the bedside table and ran your fingers over the items on it. The discovery of the day was a small round capsule, probably something to hold jewelry in. Why would Steve need-

The capsule popped open in your hand, revealing a compass on one side and a picture of Peggy Carter carefully attached to the other. The side of the picture was slightly torn, as if someone had tried to pry it up but failed. You set it down, pushing the jealousy away, and scanned the other items on the stand.

Next to where the compass had been was a pair of scissors and a picture of three people.

Your breath caught.

It was you and Sam and Bucky.

You remembered that day. It was the first day you’d been in the training room, about four months ago, and you’d tried to use too much weight. Bucky had run over to help you and Sam had followed reluctantly, complaining about wasting time. Sharon, who was supposed to be your training partner, had quickly snapped a picture, knowing she could blackmail you for almost dropping the weight at the sight of Bucky and Sam, dripping with sweat. Sharon must have sent it to Sam and Bucky. You picked up the picture, shaking your head at the memory. A circle was drawn around your faces, the exact size that was perfect for the little compass.

Trying to keep your head from bursting, you set down the picture and went for the last item, a leather-bound book with a thin ribbon page marker. You flipped the book open to the ribbon and gasped out loud.

The unfinished sketch on the page was beautiful and terrifying at the same time. It was a drawing of Bucky, eyes narrowed, head cocked, both arms tense as his hands curled around the gun in his hands. Both hands were flesh.

Steve had drawn this. His initials were scribbled at the bottom.

You turned the page and almost dropped the book. The next sketch was of you. You were lying down on a bed, one eye closed, the other eye wide open as you looked up off the page. A thin sheet made you just barely decent, hinting at debauchery. You carefully touched the drawing, just to make sure that it wasn’t a photograph.

“I thought I told you to be on the bed,” Steve’s voice rumbled from the doorway. You whirled around, clutching his sketchbook in your hands.

“Did you draw these?” you asked, holding up the book.

Steve nodded, tossing a small bag onto the bed. “I did. All of them.”

“They’re amazing. When this is all over, you could be an artist,” you said, showing him the drawing of Bucky.

“Is that all you saw?”

You flinched. “I...” You turned the book around and turned back to the drawing of you. “Was this from memory?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

You giggled, and whispered, “Draw me like one of your French girls, Jack.”

“Sorry?”

“Nothing, it’s from a...”

He cut you off. “I know what it’s from. I’m 105, I’m not dead.” Steve drew closer until his eyes were glinting down into yours. “Do you want me to draw you again?”

“Yes.” You didn’t hesitate to set down the book and draw off your shirt. “Wearing these.”

Steve looked down at your breasts, which were covered delicately by a baby blue lace bra. “Oh, doll.”

You sat on the bed and let Steve rid you of your shoes, socks, and pants. Steve’s breath hitched at the sight of your matching panties, which happened to be missing a key part. “They don’t have a...” He trailed off, but no flush came over his face. Well, of course. He was in the army.

“You can fuck me all you want with these on,” you said, hooking a leg around his neck and making him look up. “After you draw me.”

Steve took a deep breath, grabbed his sketchbook, dug out a charcoal pencil, and set them down on his desk. Slowly, he approached you and positioned you on the bed, legs closed, one arm over your head, the other hand resting on your stomach. He turned your head to face him, then stepped back. “Perfect,” he said, almost to himself. He returned to his desk and swung the chair around, kicking an ankle up to his other knee and propping the sketchbook on his calf.

He lifted his pencil and began to sketch.

You were both silent the entire time, Steve taking labored breaths as he focused on each aspect of your form. Listening to the pencil scratch calmed your beating heart, and you recalled what Rose had said in the movie Titanic about having Jack sketch her, about how intimate it was. This felt more intimate than any way Steve had taken you, any kiss, any moment in his or your bed. Your heartbeat was so loud, you were sure he could hear it.

“Done.” He broke the silence without warning, blowing eraser chunks off the page. “Do you want to...”

“Please.” You sat up, stretching out your stiff muscles, and joined Steve at the desk. The sketch was beautiful, perfect. It captured everything, from the way one corner of your mouth turned up slightly to your feet, folded in on each other. “Oh, Steve...”

“Do you like it?” He looked up at you, blue eyes staring into your soul.

You cupped his cheeks in your hands, lifting his head and leaning down to kiss him. “Yes. I love it, baby.”

“You called me baby.” He chuckled into your mouth, grabbing the back of your neck. “Though I think I prefer Captain.” He stood, picked you up, and tossed you onto the bed like you weighed nothing.

You let out a breath as he stalked towards you, unbuttoning his button-down and reaching for the bag from the drugstore. “Yes, Captain,” you whispered.

Sunlight woke Steve from a peaceful slumber. He smiled, remembering his dream, the one where you’d taken him on a picnic and fed him little cakes. Then you’d grown wings and flown into the sky, taking him with you...

“ So, I see you’re awake?”

Steve stiffened. The voice was familiar, but it wasn’t yours. He opened his eyes and felt his chest clench.

Sam stood in front of him, arms crossed, every muscle in his body tense. “Where am I?” Steve asked. “What did you do to me? What did you do to...?”

“We didn’t hurt your girlfriend.” Sam bit his lip. “But she’s not supposed to be yours, is she?”

Steve tried to move his hands and found that they were cuffed to the chair he was on. A tug of his legs revealed the same. He pulled as hard as he could, but they wouldn’t budge. Vibranium , surely.

“Don’t bother.” Sam pulled up another chair and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re not going anywhere.”

“Don’t do this, Sam.” Steve switched tactics quickly, like Natasha used to tell him to. “You’re a good person.”

Sam laughed. “So was Bucky, huh?”

Steve tensed, then winced. Wanda had been right. Any mention of Bucky and he was instantly frozen.

“What’s stopping her from going back and taking him?” he asked. “She wants the Winter Soldier, what’s keeping her back?”

“The fact that Bucky Barnes is in this world. Going back to a time when you existed, or getting pulled into a time where you do, is dangerous. You ever seen Mr. Peabody and Sherman?” Sam was toying with him, Steve knew it. He’d watched that movie a few years ago, but any and all time travel facts had been thrown out the window when they had gone back to get the stones.

“Yes, I have, but I touched myself when we went back. I kicked his ass, in fact.” Steve could remember the event vividly, since he had almost been choked out by his past self.

Sam shrugged. “The Reaper doesn’t know that, but I’m sure she’d be glad to learn. Simply put, she wants this time’s Bucky out of the way before she brings in another.”

The pieces fell into place all at once. “She’s gonna kill him.”

“Now, Sam, don’t reveal the entire evil plan,” a female voice teased. The same metallic voice that Steve had heard under the streets of New York City. The Blue Reaper slinked her way into the room, touching Sam’s shoulder gently. Sam stood immediately and left, closing the door behind him.

The Reaper regarded Steve with little care as she dropped into the chair Sam had recently vacated. “So. Captain Rogers.” Steve shivered, remembering the way you had so seductively used his title last night. Or was it two nights ago? He had no idea what day it was. “I must say, it was hard to find you.”

“What did you do with her?” Steve spit, on the offensive once again.

“Relax, we left her alone. Better to let her stew than to keep her in the same place as you, don’t you think?” She kicked one leg over the other, her mask contorting as she smirked. “Sorry.”

Steve struggled against his bonds with every intent to tear out the Reaper’s throat. “Stay away from her, you bitch.”

“Language, Captain.” She stood and planted one heeled boot on his thigh. “Or I might have to gag you, too. That would be fun, wouldn’t it?” She grabbed his chin and covered his mouth with her hand. “Play nice, Captain.”

He struggled against her grip, but she was much too strong. Her other hand came up and blew a powder Steve was all-too-familiar with into his face. Steve coughed, trying to hold his breath, but the powder went straight into his airways.

“Interesting, isn’t it? The powder is effective, but the liquid form of the aphrodisiac is much worse.” She gestured to the cuffs binding Steve’s hands and feet. “The cuffs are a little more painful than they would be, since they’ve got needles in them. I wouldn’t struggle.”

Steve could feel the aphrodisiac working through his bloodstream already and he took deep breaths, forcing his heart to slow so he could think of a plan. “Why are you doing this?”

The Reaper smirked. “Because your little scientist will never be yours. When this is all over, I’m going to let Sam have her. Then maybe I’ll keep you around as a plaything.” She tilted his chin up, forcing him to look at her. “You’re pretty enough, aren’t you?”

Steve used the last of his resolve to spit in her face. She gritted her teeth and slapped him across the face, hard, then she dropped to her feet and took off one set of cuffs. To his surprise, she twisted them around her own wrist and squeezed, tensing as the needles pierced her skin. She threw them to the side, blood seeping down her hand, and trembled as the drug worked through her body too. Steve couldn’t even struggle when she leaned down and kissed him.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #mcu

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theawkwardterrier · 4 years

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things left behind and the things that are ahead, ch. 28

AO3 link here

Peggy tells him she’s pregnant on Christmas morning, after they’ve exchanged gifts. He finds himself overcome with giddy laughter all through their breakfast, and has a baby announcement card mocked up before supper. The following February, she miscarries. It happens again that summer, and then midway through the next year: that process of hope, ever more careful now, then despair, swallowed and borne and hidden by each for the other.

Steve knows it’s him. In Peggy’s other future, with her other husband, she had two children. He’d met them. Peggy tells him fiercely that she won’t allow him to feel guilty about it, that he certainly didn’t go into fertility specifics with her elderly self so he might not know everything that he thinks he does. He feels guilty anyway.

“There are other ways to have kids,” Bucky points out around a bite of hot dog as they take in a ballgame. (Steve’s been trying to get to as many Dodgers games as he can. They’ll be moving the team next year.)

Steve takes a bite of his own, pretending to mull over what Bucky has said while already having rejected it in his mind. But it comes back that night as he finishes washing up and starts down the hallway to join Peggy in bed. He passes by the little room that they always keep closed now. They’d been nearly five months along last time. Halfway had seemed a safe enough time to buy the few things now gathering dust: a rocking chair, a blanket, a little stuffed bear.

How would it feel to have a baby lie beneath that blanket, to sit in the rocker and soothe them to sleep? Even if it were a baby that didn’t share blood with him or with Peggy, Steve thinks suddenly that it can’t feel as bad as keeping that room shut forever.

He sits staring at his book, propped up against his pillow. Finally he turns to Peggy, waits until she can tear herself away from her novel to notice.

“What would you say,” he asks carefully, “about adoption?”

She bookmarks her page thoughtfully, staring at him for long, slow moments. Finally she says, “I’ve actually been wondering about it myself.”

They don’t adopt a baby at all. It becomes obvious pretty early on that the babies are the easiest to place, that this is what most of the other couples are looking for. Instead they are introduced to Rosie, four years old, stubborn and furious in a way that puts both her parents to shame. One look at her clenched fists behind the yard fence at the Sheltering Arms Children’s Home, at the way her hair has been crammed into bristling pigtails for their meeting and how her face is as red as her name, and they know they have to take her home.

That doesn’t mean it’s easy.

They learn quickly to put anything they don’t want broken higher than the reach of a four year old on a chair. Peggy takes her time getting ready in the mornings, knowing that any perceived weakness or retreat will be latched onto, but she breathes a sigh of relief every time she gets to drive away from the house. Steve figures that outings are a no-go just yet after she bites a boy who tries to take her swing at the park hard enough to bring blood. He becomes expert at fitting in bits of housework around the times Rosie exhausts herself and collapses into a nap.

“Giving up now will only make things worse for her later,” Peggy says one night in the dark of their bedroom, and Steve can tell just from her tone that she’s setting her jaw the way he’s familiar with from European battlefields. “It will only teach her that other people are not to be relied upon or trusted, that those who promise to love you will give up.”

She’s right. She’s right, and Steve has to keep reminding himself as he closes all the windows so the neighbors won’t also have to listen to Rosie shrieking unceasingly that she hates him, hates him, hates him.

Sometime in 2014, or perhaps 2015, he read an article about how important early childhood education is for development. The question of sending Rosie to kindergarten is not so much a discussion as an accepted impossibility. Steve makes first grade his goal instead. When she pounds her feet on the ground or smacks the walls, he puts pillows beside or beneath her and reminds her not to hurt herself, bandages her fingers if she does. While she shouts, blistering up with rage and curses that he didn’t even know someone could learn that young, he sits quietly beside her with his sketchpad, taking deep breaths in and out until she starts to copy him without realizing. If she throws a tantrum during dinner, she has her food in her room and they ask if there is something to do to make it better for tomorrow. He knocks on her bedroom door and waits before he ever walks in. When he gets the urge to yell, he turns away.

One afternoon she steals his wedding ring while he is washing the lunch dishes and flushes it away before he can get it back from her. He sits on the rim of the bathtub with his face in his hands and for the first time he thinks with a bit of relief about waking up alone in that SHIELD-constructed room, about the realization of the snap: I have been through worse than this, unrelenting and encompassing and hopeless worse.

And then he feels her close to him. No hand on his arm or nuzzle against his shoulder, but soft peanut butter breath and a tiny voice saying, “I’m sorry I did that. I want to get it back,” and even if it is too late for some things, it is just the beginning for others.

When Rosie enters her first grade classroom, it is with reminders to count to ten and then to twenty, with a warning that hurting someone else was not acceptable (they’ll get into the nuances of this later), and with a note from her father that says that she should be excused if she feels that she needs to be. When the teacher and then the principal ignore this last, they learn just why it’s a mistake to try that with Grant Carter. (When the principal retires the next year and her replacement is equally dismissive of such indulgent special instructions for a second grader, it becomes quickly and terrifyingly apparent that it’s even more of a mistake to try that with Peggy Carter.)

In third grade, Rosie wins the spelling bee, has a playdate with one of her vast array of friends nearly every week, and leaves the class only twice between September and December. Her teacher describes her as bossy and stubborn and self-righteous and smart as a whip. Bucky reads over her report card while twirling spaghetti around his fork, and reminds Steve with stifled laughter that Mrs. Leary did always say that retribution would be visited upon him for his behavior in her class.

Just before Christmas, as they decorate the tree together, Rose mentions to Peggy, though certainly loudly enough for Steve to hear from the kitchen, that she is the only one of her friends who does not have a brother or sister and that it would probably be a good idea to fix that.

“Hmm,” Peggy says casually, focusing on ensuring that the ornament she’s just hung isn’t too heavy for its branch. “Your father and I will have to think about that,” as if Steve hadn’t suggested something similar only two nights before.

It will never be entirely clear precisely how old Emma is. Apparently the children’s home had estimated nearly two, but she was left with only a short note with her name and an apology, so no one really knows. It’s speculated that she likely lost her hearing shortly before being left there, probably due to illness, and that her family felt that they couldn’t take care of her after that.

Peggy and Steve made it clear from their first meetings years ago that the sorts of things that might deter other couples - older age, race or ethnic background, “difficult” personality, medical issues, the circumstances of birth - don’t matter to them. And still, even the afternoon Emma is placed in their arms, the adoption caseworker lets them know that they can still change their minds.

“Why on earth,” Peggy asks, rising, Emma's eyes following her with cautious curiosity, “would we want to change our minds?”

She’s a sweet little girl, healthy now and smiling, and Steve is incredibly worried about her. He shows up at the New Jersey School for the Deaf before the adoption is even completely finalized, asking about sign language lessons. (When Howard recounts the story, Steve is always storming in and pounding on the superintendent’s door, but there was actually mostly a lot of showing off Emma in her soft, pretty dress to the school secretary, followed by polite but slightly confused conversation over tea. Generally, hearing parents who arrived looking to speak with the superintendent sought promises about perfect speech and reassurances of future employment, and had no interest in learning to sign themselves even if they were going to allow their children to do so.)

He and Peggy actually buy a second car so he and Emma can drive regularly to the Trenton home of Caroline Linzer, a Deaf former teacher from the school who had left to raise her own children. Mrs. Linzer is warm and funny and reassuring, patient with Steve as she leads him through the alphabet, numbers, basic vocabulary, and then slowly on to conversation with Emma watching all the time. He’s still scared that there might have been too much of a delay between when Emma lost her hearing and when she started learning to sign. He doesn’t know enough about brain development and childhood language acquisition, and neither does probably anyone in this time. He has another of those moments - a surprise each time - of missing the internet with all of its knowledge and answers. He wishes, in a way that he never expected to, that he could open up an email and contact the lead experts in anything, and have them eagerly respond for Captain America.

It seems to be alright, though who knows what might have been otherwise. Their dinner table is soon full of signed chatter, Emma putting together fragments of sentences with her chubby fingers, Peggy’s quickening hands admonishing Rosie for flicking food at her sister even as Rose protests in both sign and sing-song that “she likes it, Mumma!”

“The first legislation about public schools accommodations won’t be passed until the mid-seventies, I think,” Steve tells Peggy as they wash up from dinner while the girls play in the next room. By their guess, Emma isn’t even three yet, but it’s probably already too late to lay groundwork for a change before she’s ready for kindergarten. And would they even want to? The School for the Deaf is bigger and farther away, not the familiar neighborhood grade school where Rosie has been growing up, but would it be better among peers there than to be the only child in class with an interpreter, if they could even find one willing to do the job?

Steve drives Emma over to the nursery at the School for the Deaf himself, every morning. He lays to rest the image of his girls walking to school beside each other, but the reality of Emma running to greet her friends in the schoolyard, grinning and heedless with hands alive before her, is better anyway.

They have a family meeting about adopting more kids. Well, technically they have one meeting where they agree that maybe adding a brother to the family actually sounds like a good idea, and then they have a second discussion when the caseworker presents them with two files from Boystown; the state will split up siblings if it means making a sure match for one, but will certainly seize on the possibility of placing both in a home together, and how could Steve and Peggy consider taking one of these children without the other?

“Would you make us split up?” Rosie demands fiercely, clutching her sister too tightly, while Emma chants in fluid, furious sign, “Brothers should stay together! Brothers should stay together!” They don’t seem to notice that neither of their parents are actually opposing them.

“That last room can likely fit an extra bureau,” Peggy says, and Steve nods.

“Bunk beds could work.”

Their first worry is that the new additions won’t be able to pick up sign, that they will all end up divided along who in the family can communicate with who. But they watch Emma and Rosie demonstrating with patience the correct way to form letters, the facial expressions that go along with certain words, and they begin worrying instead about their oldest two. Rosie’s big sister authority has been accepted easily until now, but with another oldest sibling now in the house, one closer to her age and with a forceful personality to match hers, things are changing.

“I can’t help but think,” Peggy says, after they’ve broken up a bristling argument over whether it’s possible to cheat at The Game of Life (strangely, the opinion of both sides is yes and that the other one had done it), “that this might be a real piece of luck for Rose, finding another child who doesn’t simply allow her to have her way.”

Steve asks, not really wanting to know the answer, “But will the house be standing when she’s fully learned that lesson?”

They’re still working through that situation when Steve starts noticing something that he can’t help but focus on instead. There must have been signs earlier - dress-up clothes clung to after playtime, people examined with careful, wondering eyes as they passed in the street - but Steve first sees this: it is a Saturday, not quite turned to spring and Nathaniel is getting over one last cold, so Steve has taken the other children to try the new bakery in town, an attempt to leave the house a little quieter for him. The kids are pointing to their favorite pastries, leaving finger-smudges on the display case. Emma blinks a cookies! sort of charm up at her father. One of the bakery employees - an older woman, neat, flour-dusted apron, curled hair tied back - passes them to get back behind the counter.

“What beautiful daughters you have,” she tells Steve, smiling. He glances over, seeing what she does: three small forms still bundled in coats, hair blond, darker, and darkest peeking out from beneath knit hats, all to the chin or longer. Steve is still waiting for warmer weather to take them for spring haircuts.

“We’re two daughters and one son,” Rose corrects the woman, and as she trills, “Oh, my mistake!” before disappearing into the back, Steve watches two children return obliviously to picking treats and one turn away, sudden light suddenly dimmed, arms hugged against skinny chest, staying quiet, quiet, quiet.

The weather gets warmer, and Steve, acting on a hunch, asks who would like to get a haircut instead of simply adding it on the calendar. In the end, he goes to the barber and so does Nathaniel and that is all.

He tries to make himself as approachable as possible, says that he will answer any question, that there is no need to worry. But he wonders if the question has already been asked and harshly answered by someone else - another parent, a teacher - in a different way than Steve would.

One day, during homework time for those who have it, Rose finishes early, and then it is just two of them in the kitchen. Steve is thinking through the grocery list to the soundtrack of small feet swinging in that familiar, beloved, and entirely irritating way.

The question, when it comes, does not sound as expected.

“My first parents used to take us to church before they died.”

“We can go if you want,” Steve offers, mind still partly on the grocery list, partly on the muffins he and Emma have just put into the oven. He and Peggy haven’t really thought much about what to do if this stuff came up, though they probably should have considering the back and forth about what children they should even be allowed to be matched with in the first place based on their “mixed marriage” (Steve was down in the records as Catholic, Peggy as Anglican, which apparently counted as Protestant). But none of the other kids remember their lives with their birth parents much, not even Nathaniel who has someone to remind him, and so it hasn’t seemed much more than intellectual until now.

“No,” he hears back hurriedly, and Steve looks up to see blue eyes pointing themselves down toward the math workbook on the table. The feet have stopped their swinging. Steve goes alert, the muffins forgotten. “I just wanted to know…Do you think that people get made wrong sometimes?”

Steve is likely not really prepared for this conversation. But he supposes that he’s more prepared than he might have been.

He stands and comes over, crouches beside the chair and says carefully, “I think everyone is exactly right the way they are, including you. But if you feel like something is making you confused, you can tell me and I’ll try to help.”

A tiny headshake, nervous, tentative, which is not normal at all. Steve’s heart breaks a little. He tries something else.

“If you could pick any name for yourself, any name at all, what would you pick?”

“I already like Andrew, promise! When we looked up our names in Boy Scouts, the book said it means brave. And it’s the name my first mom and dad gave me.”

“And I’m sure that your first parents would know that if it’s not the right name for you anymore, we can change it. I know they would be happy if you picked a name that you liked better,” Steve fibs.

For a moment, Steve worries that the pencil is going to break in that little fist. Then, the voice, small and trembling and fearless: “Andrea also means brave. I checked.”

Steve smiles. “Yeah, it does.”

Peggy knows people who are gay or lesbian, “confirmed bachelors,” presumed spinsters. There are Angie’s theater friends and people she met in the war, men and women alike. Their kids call both Josie and Violet “aunt” now. None of that has ever troubled her, nor has countering ignorance or hatred in that area.

Questions of gender are something else. It isn’t something she has encountered much more than anyone else, and the things it implies in this era are almost entirely lurid and wrong. Steve remembers them discussing Christine Jorgensen a few years back when the headlines were everywhere, and how he had tried to explain how things would come to be understood later, at least as he understood them himself.

“What would you have done if this had happened...then?” she asks, waving a vaguely future-ward hand over their late night (technically, early morning) tea. He can’t tell what she thinks just yet.

The idea of Steve having had children in the future is nearly laughable. Tony, then. What would Tony have done if Morgan had come to him and said he’d been wrong about having a daughter, or at least not entirely right? Said, “Gender neutral name, Pepper’s a genius,” probably, and then protected his kid with everything in him.

“For now, we listen,” Steve says. “Later, it might mean finding a doctor, but for now we listen and see and try to make the best choices, the way we would for any of the kids.”

1963 suburban New Jersey is not exactly where and when Steve would have chosen for this, but in another way, this is what he chose, to be with his wife and his children here, as much as he wishes things could be different.

“I like to pretend that when people call me Andy, it’s really Andi, like a girl,” Steve hears one night at bedtime, whispered while Nathaniel is still brushing his teeth.

“You are Andi,” Steve whispers back, tucking the blankets in tighter. “I’m always calling you Andi.”

They have to keep it in whispers for now, and Steve hates that, because Steve has never been able to be quiet about things that are right. But this time it isn’t about him getting his face bloody in an alley in order to stand up, it’s about his child, who has friends and kind teachers and people who smile in passing in the street, and who would lose all of that and maybe more out of ignorance about the truth.

Being at home seems comfortable enough. They haven’t mentioned anything to the other kids yet; Andi says it is okay, that it would be good, but they know that Rosie especially might have a hard time not letting something slip. The ASL that they use as a family doesn’t need pronouns and Emma made a name sign that can just as easily stand for Andi. At school, though, there is a particular expectation of who Andrew Carter should be which would be dangerous to deviate from. Steve sits in uncomfortable silence with the idea that Andi doesn’t seem to even consider asking for anything to be different, with the realization that he wouldn’t be able to grant such a wish, at least not now.

(There is, he and Peggy have realized, likely only one thing to be done.)

It is already close to summer, and they pack up as soon as school is over. Howard thinks nothing of letting them take over the secluded beach house he bought in Maine. (Apparently he “picked it up” a few years ago, an idea that Steve can barely think about in reference to a carton of good ice cream, much less a whole house that its owner has apparently never used.) The kids spend most of the day running in and out of the water or building castles, while their parents lounge on the sand and occasionally call them over to eat or reapply sunscreen, such as it is. (Steve is extremely diligent about this, regardless of how effective this decade’s variety might actually be. None of his kids have his Irish skin, but they don’t have his healing, either, and he tries to help avoid sunburn and skin cancer alike.)

Andi’s dark hair, uncut for months, continues to lengthen; by the middle of July, it is a sort of thick shag and still growing. Peggy brushes it into a ponytail every morning and redoes it as the activity of the day musses it back up.

It is Peggy’s first vacation in a long while, though she leaves them for a few days every other week or so; work and responsibility is still calling and she can’t entirely forget it all. She does stand firm in her promise to avoid thinking about those sorts of problems when she’s with them, and it’s beautiful to see her glowing from the sun, relaxing with a book or loud with laughter as she chases one or another of the children down the beach. The housekeeper Howard sends over once a week agrees to stay for an evening, and Steve takes Peggy dancing. It’s only a visiting trio on stage at the local community center, just this side of the high school dance that Steve never attended, but with them, it’s always more. Among the couples, Peggy leans into his chest, sweet and upright and familiar now. She is more his partner now than he ever dared hope.

During the last week of July, it rains for days in a row, and midafternoon on the third, Steve and Peggy exchange a glance and know that it’s time to break the news to their children.

They talk to Andi first, and Steve, eagle-eyed, sees the rise and fall of those narrow young shoulders, the way they do not brace themselves but relax: a sigh, a finally, finally.

They find everyone gathered in the great room, cushions dragged into a nest on Howard’s shined, artfully rustic wooden floorboards with the kids settled in a semicircle on top of them. Books and games are scattered around, playing cards hiding at random beneath the pillows; they’re getting down to the last of the indoor entertainments, anxious for the weather to clear and allow them to break back outside. Steve seats himself on the stone ledge by the raised fireplace and Peggy sits beside him.

“We have some things to tell you all,” Steve starts.

“Is this about Mom’s work? Nate says you’ve been doing a lot of secret talking,” Rosie demands, fingers flashing, apparently having appointed herself to speak for the group. Nate has the sharpest eyes, the most acute nose, for these sorts of things, but he does not look troubled, merely curious. He has his bear sitting in his lap, as if Edward is an attentive part of the family meeting as well. “And we all know that a lot of Mom’s work is secrets,” Rose finishes keenly.

(Steve knows that Nate probably didn’t phrase it exactly that way, and not just because Rose puts her own spin on things. He and Peggy have always said that none of their children need to call them Mom or Dad until they are ready. With Emma it was barely a question, barely a thought, but it took Rosie more than a year. It hasn’t been quite that long for Nate, but he apparently still hasn’t quite settled into the idea. He mostly avoids calling them anything, which Steve admittedly prefers to the insults with which Rose once addressed him.)

“It is about my work, a bit,” Peggy says carefully. “Your father and I moved years ago because Uncle Howard and I were starting an office in New Jersey. But part of my job has always been working with our elected officials and my colleagues in Washington - that’s difficult when we don’t live nearby.”

“What Mom does is very important,” adds Steve. “When she needs to go away for meetings - I know it’s hard for all of us. And we decided that it might be easier for us to all be in Washington together.”

“We’re moving?” asks Nate, more clarification than anything.

Rose’s hands echo him explosively. “We’re moving?! What about our friends and our school? What about Nana and the aunts and uncles, everyone? I don’t want to leave our house!”

Emma looks between them all, flighty curls shivering as her head turns. She looks down at her own lap before she adds, “Everything will change if we move.”

“Some things will stay the same,” Peggy says. “You will have school and friends - new school, new friends. Our family, that will still be the same. You’ll still do chores.” That actually teases out a bit of laughter.

“But some things will be different.” Steve moves his gaze to each of them in turn. He catches Andi’s eye last. He leans forward. He’s practiced this; his ASL is still not entirely fluid, and probably won’t ever be, but he wants to be clear. “Here is something that might seem different. When babies are born, we make guesses about what kind of people they will be when they grow up. Some are right and some are wrong. But when we make guesses - we can push people to be different than they want to be. Maybe we think we’re right or maybe we forget to ask how they feel.”

“I don’t understand,” Rose says, flicking the sign beside her shaking head, mouth puckered downward. “Why is this about moving?”

“Because when we move, I am going to be a sister instead of a brother and you should all call me s-h-e. Everybody thought I was a boy and pushed me to be a boy and told me it was not allowed for me to be different but that was wrong - Dad says, and also Mom. Some people might still be mad if they find out, but when we go to Washington, I am going to be a girl named A-n-d-r-e-a .” She spells out the new name; who knows if she will keep her old name sign or take on a new one. Then she adds, shoulders firmly set but not stiff, “Everybody should call me D-r-e-a. I decided.”

Rose has questions. Emma has quieter, more hesitant ones. Peggy and Steve begin trying to answer them as best they can. Nate leans his head onto Drea’s proud shoulder, tucks Edward more tightly against his side, and lets his eyes fall shut.

The three girls make their feelings about the move apparent: Rose clearly displeased, Emma worried but with some interest, Drea boldly excited. Nate listens to the others but keeps his own counsel about how he feels. So, after days of watching him for clues, Steve simply asks him.

It is a hot morning and they are walking together into town on a few errands: dropping off some library books, picking up more tape for the boxes even now piling up back at the house. Steve waits until they are past the toy store and its many distractions before he asks, “What do you think about us moving someplace new?”

Nate tilts his head. “I don’t know yet. Maybe it will be scary, but I think it will also probably have good parts. That was what happened when Drea and me came to this home.” Steve realizes with a pang that Nate, just turned four, has already lived in three different places. He puts a hand onto Nate’s shoulder and squeezes a little. Nate looks up at him. “But we aren’t there yet, so I don’t know how it will feel.”

“It’s okay to not know,” Steve tells him as they come to the corner and wait for the cars to pass.

Nate responds, “I know that,” and laughs at his own joke. Steve laughs with him, watching that sweet, gleeful face, not caring that he is stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

“I think it’s our turn, Daddy,” Nate says, taking Steve’s hand so he will notice that the cars are stopped for them. “Daddy, look, it’s our turn to go.”

Steve swallows. He smiles. “Yes, it is,” he says, and keeps ahold of Nate’s hand as they cross the street together.

The house Peggy found in Maryland could fit their old place in twice and still have room left over. Rosie has maintained an impressive sulk through their return from Maine, all of the packing, their various goodbyes, and the drive down south, but even she drops the attitude to race through the new space and argue about who gets which room.

Steve, unpacking bags from the car, keeps glancing up to take in the bits and pieces of this new place, the things he missed in the pictures that Peggy brought back: the windows, all of them, everywhere, and their shutters; the heavy wooden door which hangs open into the summer air so that he can hear the kids screaming excitedly from room to room; the path and the lush areas of the yard which will be perfect for flowers in beds and borders.

He feels a hand on the small of his back. Peggy, who slides an arm around him and presses her mouth to the side of his neck, holding there for a moment.

“How long do you think we’ll be waiting,” she asks, “until someone comes along offering a pound cake and hoping for some gossip about the new neighbors?”

“Well,” he says, sliding an arm around her waist, “we have trees, probably a mile of driveway, and I think we are officially on the outskirts of town. So I'd say we'll have at least fifteen minutes to ourselves.”

“Sounds lovely,” she says. “Some time to settle in, just the family.”

“Just the family,” he repeats. He could mention that it’s just been the family for the two day drive from Jersey. Instead he glances at her, leans back a little to take in the house beneath the broad blue of the sky, beginning to be filled with the voices of their children, the joy and life and everything that they can bring to this place. He holds her against him. Just them, just all of them here together, here at the heart of things.

More chapters here

#Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #the Carter crew #things left behind fic #hey it's The Kids!#despite all the edits and fiddling I think you can somewhat tell that this written earlier on #notes and sources in the AO3 posting

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evien-stark · 4 years

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✧I Need You✧ Chapter 46

A few things were made clear to you by Fury before you left with Steve on a long drive to the Retreat. First and foremost it was that you were supposed to keep your identity as a SHIELD agent (even though you technically weren’t one) in the front of your mind. You were not to let any personal details out, for any reason. This didn’t sit right with you. It was almost entirely the opposite of how you’d started with Natasha, but it was still lying to the man regardless. And you didn’t like how that felt. You didn’t like where it had ended up.

It wasn’t necessary, too. And if you were supposed to eventually get on a team with Steve, lying to him right out of the gate seemed like the worst possible thing to do. In some moments you still felt slighted by Natasha, even though you’d convinced yourself she was only doing her job. Even though you liked her now and wanted to be friends with her (and were, as far as you considered it). You wanted to not get off on the wrong foot with Steve. It seemed like a bad idea. SHIELD was full of those.

The drive up to the house was awkward to say the least. You’d been given a nondescript black SUV with provisions in the trunk, and directions on their GPS were leading you the way there. Steve had just sat in the seat aside you watching the world outside the window turn from heavy city imagery that he had no attachment to, to the smaller quieter outskirts and then into full blown beautiful countryside. You didn’t travel out this way often yourself, and you probably wouldn’t again in the near future.

Steve had with him a small pack that SHIELD had provided, and a file sitting on his lap. You didn’t know what was in it, maybe none of your business. And unimportant, if Fury hadn’t briefed you on what they’d given him. Probably just his own history. The people that he’d known- where they were- if they were still alive.

One of such you had the urge to tell him about. But… that wasn’t smart right now.

You tried to break the silence by putting on the radio, but the pop that came on seemed to disturb him and he gave you quite the look. “...you mind if I turn that off?”

“No. Sorry. Go ahead.”

Leaving the two of you with silence again. At least until, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

At this you couldn’t help the sad smile. “No. Well- no. Not you. It’s just … the situation.”

“Yeah.” Even though he seemed to genuinely agree, there was nothing to do about it. How to get around the whole issue of him being dead for years and alive again now? “Am I really supposed to call you Agent Lady?”

Unable to help yourself, a snorting laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and despite the fact that that was completely undignified, the ease it settled between the two of you, and the first smile you’d ever seen him wear, made it easy to live with. “No. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? I didn’t pick it.”

“It’s funny how they just stick you with names.” The so called Retreat came into view and you pulled up the short drive on the property, taking mental note of the security towers they were trying to hide. “But I was under the impression agents were like soldiers. Is that not your last name?”

Putting the car in park and unbuckling your seatbelt, you smiled at him again. “No, it isn’t. I don’t technically work for SHIELD in that capacity.” Instead, you offered your actual real name to Steve. It only seemed fair.

Blowing all the rules Fury had laid with you from moment one before you’d left. Just like that. Gone. Out the window. Done and no going back. No regrets about it, either.

He followed you out of the car and to the trunk, and you tried to be casual about handing him some of the bags of groceries, grateful he didn’t falter and just helped immediately. “Then in what capacity?”

After shutting the trunk, you led him to the front door, opening it with key in one hand and last bag of groceries propped on your hip. “I think I started as a consultant for them. I’m not really sure what this is. No offense.”

“None taken.” He stood entirely awkwardly, following you into the kitchen and then handed you the bags to put down. Once free, he crossed his arms, watching you as you started putting the groceries away. Light stuff. SHIELD had no idea how to shop, that much was clear. “Where’d they pick you up, then? If you don’t mind my asking.”

You didn’t, and you shouldn’t at that. Steve Rogers was very aware he was being babysat. He had been led to believe it was by a SHIELD agent, but now that agent was telling him she was not an agent. Then what was she? What a great question. But more importantly…

When you finished you turned around, offering him a light smile. This was no doubt going to be difficult. “I’m actually the CEO of Stark Industries.”

Watching him work through that information was interesting. Confusion first, then processing, then ah-hah. “Are you- you’re Howard’s kid?”

“No.” This shot out of you slightly, a little embarrassingly so. “God, no. That would be Tony- Anthony Stark. He and I sort of co-own Stark Industries.” And, when Steve made just a slightly unsure face, “We’re together.” His blank look made you all the more embarrassed that you were going to have to spell it out. “Dating.”

“Oh. Alright then.” Not sure what to say about that. You weren’t sure what should be said about it, either. “He must trust you, in that case.”

“I hope so.”

“Howard’s… not around anymore, I take it.”

“No. He died in 1991. Car accident. His wife Maria was in the car. She didn’t make it, either.”

“I’m very sorry.” Genuinely so, it seemed.

“As far as I understand it, he spoke very highly of you.” Although not something you yourself wanted to speak about, considering how Tony felt about that. You cleared your throat, feeling a little bit of that uncomfortable air settling. “You want some tea? I’m going to make some tea.”

“Uh- sure. That’s fine. Thank you.”

Using that as an excuse to turn around and start putting some water in an electric kettle on the counter. Very, very carefully you tried to send some easy and relaxed feelings into the air around you. “Were you close with Howard?”

“Not particularly. We only had a few conversations. He was a good man. A little too sure of himself. Liked to hear himself talk.”

At this you really couldn’t help the soft breathy laugh. “Apple doesn’t fall far.”

“Honestly surprised there is an apple.”

Holding your expression steady was too hard, and your smile grew all the more. At the quick whistle you turned the kettle off. “Just the one, as far as I know. Are you trying to tell me Howard was a lady’s man?”

Steve scoffed, but he was smiling, too. “Can’t recall a picture in the paper that didn’t have him and some woman on his arm.”

“Apple fell right underneath, then.” Grinning, feeling delighted when Steve relaxed all the more. “How do you take your tea?”

“Uh- however you’re having it. That’s fine.” He stepped closer towards the counter as you fixed some earl gray for the both of you (the only kind SHIELD had put in their grocery bags). “So you work for Stark-” At the quick dry look you shot his way immediately, he amended, “with Stark. And you work for SHIELD- but not really. That’s what you’re saying? So what are you doing here?”

A little sigh escaped you. “Not really is a good way of putting it. I’m not really the kind of woman that asks how high when someone tells me to jump.”

After stirring some sugar in his mug, you handed it to him and he accepted it with a small, “Thanks.” Not even waiting to take a sip of what had to be all too hot tea. But he seemed not to mind. “Then what kind of woman are you?”

“The kind that asks why when someone tries to tell me to jump.” The two of you, finally, shared a smile of mutual understanding. “And I’m here because SHIELD assigned me to you. But, more than that, I wanna help you.”

He didn’t waste time answering honestly. “I appreciate it.”

-------------------------------------

It didn’t really take a lot to like Steve Rogers. He seemed like a good, honest man. It made sense, the more you dove into it, why he’d be picked for such a serious program- something you were now allowed to read up on, on a series of relevant files Fury had sent to you. He’d been built to be a hero, Serum or not, and that’s exactly what he’d become.

He was also genuinely impressive with how much he was taking in about this new time- all of its technology and what it could do. How it improved the lives of people around him. While Fury had kind of been wishy-washy on whether or not you should ban tech for the time being, you introduced him to the internet. And while he thought you were still asleep, he went and searched. For a lot.

And since he didn’t know about browser history…

You felt guilty taking a peek. But took a peek you did.

It was only slightly alarming that his first search was Steve Rogers. But you couldn’t hold it against him. Maybe he was just trying to see if he was still relevant. Or maybe he wanted to know how people told his story. You’d let it slide. Even after his second search was Captain America.

But then you followed a trail.

Margaret Carter Peggy Carter SHIELD Bucky Barnes Lieutenant Barnes James Buchanan Barnes Howling Commandos

Howard Stark Stark Industries Anthony Stark Tony Stark Maria Stark SHIELD again.

And your own name as his last search that night.

You weren’t sure it was your place to tell him Peggy was still alive. Or that you thought he should go visit her. With how many links he’d clicked trying to find information about what her life had become… it seemed like he was missing her. The rest of it you tried not to think about. Trying to give him the illusion of privacy he deserved. It wasn’t your business. So you let it go.

It was Thursday evening that things started getting a little cagey. He began to stress you out and churn out your anxiety as he paced back and forth from room to room. At first you thought he might be looking for something, but it became clear very soon through the small wisps of frustration leaking off him that he was just moving to move.

Your head had been down in an endless sea of emails. Before taking off for an unscheduled week, you’d let Pepper know she could redirect anything your way (and you were getting increasingly guilty over not being able to tell her why you went to the gym so often or disappeared for weeks on retreats). While it seemed like she’d tried not to bother you, it all came crashing down around the same time Steve couldn’t seem to keep to himself any longer.

“You know, there’s a small gym in the basement.” Offered after the seven thousandth time he’d crossed in front of your computer.

“There is?”

“Nothing fancy, but, if you need something to work off some steam, it might help.”

“That obvious, huh?”

You could only offer a small understanding smile. It wasn’t like you wanted him to feel bad but he wasn’t the only one stuck there just then. It was when he headed downstairs and begun very loudly punching the bag down there that you slipped on your headphones and tried to focus on your own work. But your thoughts drifted. Was this really helping Steve? Forcing him to be here? You hadn’t had enough time to ask Fury for all the details of why Steve was being almost quite literally forced into seclusion.

It seemed like he’d readjusted just fine. No abnormalities after unfreezing for such a long time. He wasn’t sick and his mind wasn’t dodgy. So why was it necessary to keep him locked up like this? A question that thrummed in the back of your mind as you set the forefront of your attention to spreadsheets and emails and other things easily worked through.

A couple of hours later, as you were nearing the end of your long stream of things to do (for now, there would always be more), the Bee Gees came on your radio and with a little bit of your own stress worked through, you mindlessly began humming to yourself. Just about the same time that you knew Steve was coming upstairs.

But life was worth living, and as music loudly poured out of your headphones, half slipped off one ear, you mumble sang along.

“Well I had to follow you… thought you did not want me to… that won’t stop my love for you… I can’t stay away… blaming it all...”

He rounded away from the kitchen, coming curiously closer with a glass of water in hand. Red-faced after a hard workout, you spied him standing a few feet away.

“Singing them love songs… singing them straight to the heart songs...” And, catching him, you smiled easily. “Wanna listen?”

“It’s an interesting song.” And one he’d definitely never before heard in his life. He’d been quick to shut off the top ten pop station the second you’d turned it on, but this?

“LUNA, can you restart the song and put my playlist on speaker?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Who’s LUNA?” Steve sat down in a chair across from the couch you were perched on.

Oh. Right. Hm. “LUNA is a program. Kind of like a personal assistant.” Nights on Broadway filtered in over your laptop speakers.

He seemed to lighten up as the tune started and you wondered briefly what Tony might think if he knew you were introducing Captain America to such dreck (only according to Tony, of course). “I think I understand. On the computer, right?”

“Yeah.” No need to really go into it further, that was basically the gist. As the chorus reignited you found yourself smiling at his thoughtful appearance, soaking in the music and lyrics. “You like this?”

“I haven’t heard anything like it before. Who’s the band?”

“They’re called the Bee Gees. I’ll make you a playlist. All the greats.” You’d tried to take it as slow as he’d wanted to go. There was no need to rush him into anything or force a bunch of here’s what happened while you were asleep knowledge on him. When he wanted to learn he would. And during sleepless nights he’d been doing some of that, researching on his own.

“I know I missed a lot.” He seemed solemn with this thought in mind, if only for a few fleeting moments. Determined, it seemed, to not let it show too much.

You offered yet another gentle smile. “We’ll catch you up. Honestly, it’s not a big deal to know everything. Most people don’t, anyway. Not even all the important things.”

His brows lifted and his grin went a touch lopsided. “I don’t know if I find that too comforting.”

“You’re in good company, then.” You let a small silence pass, the two of you enjoying the music. Then you decided to ask. “Did the workout help?”

He gave a small shrug. “A little. It’d help more if I knew what exactly I was supposed to be doing.”

“Relaxing, I think.” Decompressing might have been a better word, but it was basically the same idea.

Shaking his head, “I don’t know about that.”

You felt for him, really. Being cooped up here… It had been one of your express instructions to stay on the property until agents arrived to separate and send the two of you on your way. But… “Hey. What do you say to going to see a movie?”

“I thought we were supposed to stay?” Despite his seemingly soft objection, you sensed a small well of excitement here.

“One movie never hurt anyone. Besides. It’ll help you with your uh… readjustment knowledge.” It really wouldn’t. Nothing in theaters right then was bound to help him, but you were already locked into the idea of sneaking out. “And I’ll make sure we don’t get caught.”

“How’s that?”

“LUNA, pull up all the security schematics for the property, please. And let’s start pulling them apart.”

“Absolutely!” Even LUNA seemed excited.

Without the visor extended, she threw all the information onto your laptop screen and you tried to zero in on the important bits. Steve got up a little nervously, shuffling closer until he came to sit next to you. If only to see what you were up to. “So we’ve got the towers outside, we can just set those to a feedback loop thinking the perimeter is untouched… LUNA ditch the audio on the transmitters for the last two minutes and pipe in my music instead, and keyboard sounds- I think that’s enough for them. Am I missing anything?” You’d gotten lucky the place didn’t have actual cameras, but it wouldn’t have been too hard to set those to loop, either.

“There’s a gatelock outside. Two tries and then it autolocks and sends a message to headquarters.”

You couldn’t help the grumpy noise that escaped you. Breaking past codes wasn’t really your thing. And if LUNA was telling you about it, it’s because she required more assistance than just a point and click. There was one other person capable of such feats, though… bringing your phone up, you decided to give him a call.

It took one ring. “How’s it going babysitting the frozen fossil? Need to put it in the microwave yet?” Tony’s sardonic charm knew no bounds.

“Nice to talk to you, too. I’m sure you miss me.”

“Every day. Seriously. What’s up? I thought no calls in or out. Something happen?” His quick gear switch was endearing, as ever.

“I’m uh… I need your help.”

“Go on.”

“There’s a gate outside. I need you to break it for me. Please.” Asking nicely would only do so much. You already knew that if you asked Tony for help on anything he was likely to give it to you no matter what. One of the many reasons you treasured him so.

But it wouldn’t come without ribbing. “Someone being naughty? Sneaking out past curfew? What if papa Fury finds out?”

“Eugh. Please don’t.” His laughter at your reaction warmed you, even at your own expense. You really did miss him. “I’m getting cabin fever.”

“Literally, I’m sure. Well. Go ahead. Have a night out on me. You’re free.” Already. Like he’d snapped his fingers and it was done. You had to marvel at the amount of quick work. To locate you, find the security system you were talking about, get into it, break it, and reset it so it wouldn’t trigger any alarms about usage…

That was your Tony. “Thank you.” And, without hesitation or thought for the only other person in the room listening, “I love you.” It didn’t take much to see Steve pointedly looking away. Like he only just now realized he was listening in on a private conversation. You tried to ignore it.

“I love you, too. Come home soon.”

Soon was not soon enough.

-------------------------------------

The two of you had quickly gotten into the car after that, deciding that lingering around would only heighten the chances of getting into trouble- and also backing out. Which neither of you wanted, but both of you had a practical sense about you. If you thought about it for very much longer, you probably would have stayed home. It made it tough because while on the road you then had to look for nearby theaters-

And then weigh your movie-going options. Everything out right then was… bad. Atrociously bad. Not stuff you wanted to show to Steve. Not as his first introduction to the new world. Big hits like The Human Centipede 2 and The Thing. Stuff that would be sure to scare him off for decades to come.

It was just your luck that you found a two-dollar theater playing old movies nobody really wanted to go to anymore. Even better, since it’d be empty. You weren’t worried about the world seeing him. It would be a miracle if someone could put this amount of two-and-two together, given how nonsense it was. But you getting caught with a tall, muscley, blond haired blue eyed man that was definitely not Tony?

Yeah. You needed that headline like you needed a kick in the ass.

“Must be a good movie for two dollars.” You’d given Steve a giant bucket of what was probably stale popcorn to hold as the two of you went on your way in. He just seemed happy to be out.

“These are actually the ones no one wants to watch anymore. Movie tickets in the regular theaters are like fifteen dollars.”

“Fifteen?”

“For one ticket.”

“No kidding.”

“I don’t wanna tell you what I just paid for popcorn.”

The movie you’d ended up picking (choices limited so much that you really couldn’t take credit at this point) seemed gentle enough. One Mr. Popper’s Penguins. Certainly harmless. Didn’t say much about anything. Animal flick. Jim Carrey. What more could one person ask for?

While it wasn’t a riveting thrill-ride, Steve did find it in himself to laugh in appropriate spots, although a dialed back quiet and reserved sort. You weren’t sure if he was keeping it quiet for the completely empty theater, for you, or if that really was just how he was. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that he was having a good time, and relaxing more than being holed up in that cabin had asked of him.

It was such a shame that it had to end. You almost thought of asking if he wanted to watch something else- Zookeeper and The Smurfs listed as the only other two flicks available (ones you’d suffer through if it made him happier), but outside the theater he aimed a dutifully sad smile your way. “Time to head back, I think. Before we get caught.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right.”

But it wasn’t Fury that caught you. Outside in the parking lot in the chilly air, Steve offered you his jacket. You thought to tell him it wasn’t necessary, you’d just turn on the heat in the car. But before you could do that, LUNA served some terrible news.

“Paparazzi thirty feet on your left. Blue Sedan. He’s taking your picture.”

“Shit.” The word hissed out of you without a second thought. Bad. This was bad. This was very, very fucking bad. You shrugged out of Steve’s jacket and shoved it into his hands. “Stay here. I have to deal with something.”

“What’s the matter?” He was on alert almost immediately. And not clued in to what was going on.

But you left him behind to go right up to that car, standing in front with a palm forward to keep the driver from turning the engine- it wouldn’t stop him, but he had to realize he couldn’t leave backed up against the light post like he was. So when the car door opened you stepped over to him. “Whatever you just took, delete it.” Not really giving him a choice in the matter.

“I’m just doing my job, you know? Don’t get pissy about it that you got caught.”

It was unlike you, too little too late you realized, bristling the way you were. “I didn’t get caught doing anything.” He opened his stupid fat mouth to speak to you again but you decided there was no time to listen to him insult you further. “Listen. I would feel very ashamed if I were you.” This did indeed stop him dead in his tracks. “Capitalizing off somebody else’s private life is reprehensible. And I think you should feel just awful.”

“I-… I’m sorry...” He didn’t sound anywhere close to the way he’d sounded moments ago. Head down. Eyes averted. Changed.

“You should delete those pictures, if you feel any guilt about your actions.”

“I will- I’m going to- right now-”

“Good. I’m glad you understand.” You stepped aside him to watch him wipe them. “You back anything up anywhere?”

“Not yet- you came over before I could. I’m sorry about this. Really. It’s just- when I knew it was you- I mean- I had to-”

There was no time for you to listen to his rambling. And you’d run out of patience before you’d even come over. “Just go. Now.”

“Yeah- I’m gonna go.” He climbed up into his car, turning it on about as fast as he could, screeching the tires on the pavement just to get out of there. To get away from you. He was drowning in mortification. Embarrassment. Guilt. Anguish.

It took you too long to realize Steve was standing there. And probably had been the whole time. He no longer looked jovial or relaxed. “You have uh… quite a way with words.” He wasn’t accusing you of anything. Not out loud, anyway.

Sighing, knowing this was exactly why keeping secrets was a bad idea, “Just say what you’re gonna say.”

He looked uneasy, crossing his arms. “We should get in the car. It’s cold out.” Gentleman to the end, it seemed. Even if he may have not trusted you anymore.

Crossing back over the parking lot side by side, you dumped it. “I did that, yes. It’s a hard thing to tell people about- that I can influence people’s emotions. But I guess if anyone understands things out of the ordinary it’s you.”

"Experiment? SHIELD?" You shook your head. "No. Just me." "For how long? Since you were a kid?" "No. Uh- young adult, I guess, is when it all started." You found you didn't mind his inquiries. Maybe it was helping to better settle him. And you were almost amazed at how well he was taking it-

At least until no further response came, and you feared you may have lost all his confidence completely. But when he was fully seated in the car aside you, he spoke again. “That why SHIELD asked you to watch me? To make me feel better?”

“No. To keep an eye on you and file a report at the end. I was never asked to make you feel one way or the other.” Truthful with this, at least.

Another silence sat between you. “How do I know you didn’t?”

Your hands clenched on the wheel, eyes closing. It had gotten so much easier to slip into that darkness now. Ever since the incident with Barton. When you’d gone too far. Deep inside that black water you saw Steve Rogers, at the center where you knew you could reach- but had no reason to. He was no threat. ...and you were nowhere near ready to try something like that again so soon. No idea what would happen.

But on the outskirts, the bare edge that brushed against you, you took hold of that lone ripple in that quiet pond. He was uneasy. On edge. Distrustful. Sinking your hands into the ring, you thought instead of a few moments back. When the two of you had been laughing in the movie theater. And it had been nice and peaceful and you’d simply been enjoying your time with him.

Ashy gray warbled briefly into a light yellow. And your eyes blinked open again, turning your head.

He was smiling- it lasted for one moment. Maybe two- and then realization dawned, and you backed out completely. And he was left with himself again. “Oh- I don’t-”

Picking your more drastic measures was completely unnecessary. But what better way to illustrate just why SHIELD was bent on using you for… who knew what. “It can be pleasant until it’s not. Or upsetting until it’s not.”

“So whatever you want.” He was defensive now and you really felt like you’d lost all progress.

Sticking the key into the ignition you started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. “Yeah. But when you know what it is, then you know what to look for. Did I do that to you before?”

He mulled this over. “I don’t think so. But how would I really know?”

“You wouldn’t, I guess. I’m asking you to trust me.”

The silence this time was much longer. Terribly longer. You had no right to ask this of him. With how he was feeling now, you doubted he would agree. You were practically back at the cabin when he found what he wanted to say. Or maybe he’d just been letting you stew. “I don’t think one mistake makes you. If this can even be called a mistake. It was more… omission.”

It was hard to know how to feel about what he was saying. “So do you think I’m lying? That I did that to you before? That that was what SHIELD asked me to do?”

“I don’t. On any account.” Trusting you- you had no idea why. But you were grateful all the same. “Let’s just keep it clean between us from now on, okay?”

Pulling into the parking spot in front of the house, you turned to give him a small smile of relief. “You got it. I promise.”

His hand reached out and you took it in a firm shake. “Deal.”

All things considered, the night hadn’t gone as terrible as it could have.

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #INY Chapter Forty Six

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reckoningss · 5 years

Text

The Shield - Part 6

Summary: Homicide detectives Mia Wallace and Thor Odinson are partners with a reputation for closing tough cases. The latest, however, proves to be more difficult than the others as the two contend with a killer with an interesting MO, an overbearing District Attorney, and unreconciled feelings.

Pairing: Detective!Thor x OC (Mia Wallace)

Wordcount: 1.4k

Warnings: None

A/N: Mia - a glutton for pain - is at it again.

“I’m sorry,” stammered Mia, “I must not have heard you correctly.”

Captain Fury narrowed his eyes at Mia’s reluctant tone. “Oh, you heard me perfectly well.”

Mia shook her head, ignoring a sharp elbow to the ribs from Thor. “But that doesn’t make any sense.”

“And why’s that?” Fury had adopted an expression that the pair was all too familiar with - like a snake tightening into a deadly coil, preparing to strike.

“How are we supposed to run an investigation if we’re babysitting the DA around the clock?”

Turning his back on them, the captain strode down the hallway back toward the squad room. “With grace and dignity.”

“Captain, seriously!” Mia was fighting the urge to launch something at the back of his shiny, bald head as she and Thor trailed behind him. “We don’t have the kind of resources to provide protective custody. We need the feds.”

The trio spilled into the squad room and split apart. Fury rounded on Mia with his face drawn in authoritative indignation. “Well, we don’t have the feds!” The squad room fell silent, other detectives inconspicuously listening in on their tiff. Detective Banner raised a warning brow at Mia over his glasses before returning to the report he was typing up. She pretended not to notice. “Our guy hasn’t crossed state lines yet, and they’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

“He’s targeting a District Attorney! That’s got to mean something!”

“It means that we’ve got to keep her alive long enough to try this case.”

Mia pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes as though she could, somehow, make the whole situation go away by ignoring it. She took a deep breath; maybe a softer approach might make Fury see things from her perspective.

“Captain,” Fury didn’t look at her. He was too preoccupied with shuffling through a stack of files from Detective Barton’s cluttered desk. She knew he wasn’t really reading them. “We’ve already got a lot on our plates. DA Carter is already watching over our shoulder, holding her hand through this process isn’t going to make things any easier, or faster for that matter.”

The captain snapped the file in his hand shut, pointing it at the center of Mia’s chest. “Well she’s who your perp is after, isn’t she? It seems to me that this makes your life a lot easier. The DA brings the perp to you and you get to protect the DA. Case closed. Two birds - one stone.”

Mia looked at Thor where he leaned against their shared desk, arms crossed, mouth shut. Thanks for the backup. “Captain, there’s no good reason that you can’t put some uniforms on this.”

“I did. You’ll be overseeing them.”

Mia opened her mouth to counter again, but Fury shot a hand up, one thick finger pointed at her. “And that’s that on that.”

Effectively silenced, Mia turned to Thor again, this time with a look of sheer desperation on her face. “Thor, you can’t be ok with this,” she whispered, “You know what our caseload is like.”

Noticing the increasingly dark expression on Captain Fury’s face, Thor grabbed Mia by the crook of her elbow and smiled tightly. “I just need a moment to speak with my partner.” He didn’t wait for permission, not that the captain looked particularly inclined to provide it.

For the second time that day, Mia was being pulled from a critical confrontation by Thor, and she was livid. When he had finished dragging her into an empty office, Mia wrenched her arm from his grasp.

“Thanks for all the help out there, partner.” She was steaming.

Thor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Wallace, why are you so intent on pissing Fury off?”

She flung her arms out wide. “Why is Fury so intent on sacrificing us to the DA?! He’s been riding us ever since we caught this case.”

“Can you blame him? Half the city is watching this unit.”

“Sharon put us on blast today and now we’re supposed to babysit her until we catch this guy? You know what this means - her constantly checking out work, second-guessing our decisions. Trying to tell us how to run this investigation!”

Thor closed the space between them, reaching out to hold Mia’s shoulders and look into her face. “Mia, come on. This guy’s gunning for her.”

She rolled her eyes, looking anywhere but at her partner. He tightened his grip. “She’s not you. She can’t defend herself. Not from this.”

Mia stiffened in his grasp. All of a sudden, she wanted to be doing anything other than having that conversation in that room with Thor. And she would do just about anything to get out of there.

“Fine.” Her tone was hard, a lot harder than she’d ever used with Thor before. She noticed the confused expression on his face and softened a little. “You’re right. We’ll make it work.”

Her efforts were rewarded with a weak squeeze of her shoulders and a transparent smile - concern visible beneath it. Mia returned the smile - equally unconvincing - and gently stepped out of his reach. This was horrible; it was no good. She could feel the foundation of their partnership fracturing inch by inch, and when it finally crumbled she wasn’t sure what - if anything - she would find intact beneath the resulting rubble.

Mia followed Thor back into the squad room to face Captain Fury. The captain was waiting for them, arms crossed, with an expectant look on his face. “So?”

Thor dipped his head, sparing a reassuring glance for Mia before looking to the captain. “We’re going to make this assignment work. We accept the responsibility.” Mia remained stone-faced and silent beside him.

Fury nodded. “Good to hear. Go home. Get some rest. Detail starts tomorrow night and I expect some good news about the status of this case before then.”

“Give me something, Doc.” Mia had barely been able to sleep the night before and it was telling on her. Her head was buried in her hands while Dr. Strange flipped through their updated report. Thor sat in his usual spot - propped up on the edge of the desk as he threw a stress ball against the wall.

Strange pushed the file away. “There’s not much more to go on, even after this most recent attack.”

Thor caught the stress ball in his right hand and squeezed it. “Anything you can glean will help us, Dr. Believe me.”

Dr. Strange blew out a breath and leaned in. “Well, this guy is definitely impulsive. It took him less than a day to lash out at the DA - add to that the fact that he did so on an open street with his face uncovered...He took a very big risk. He probably couldn’t stop thinking about her attacks on him all day.”

Mia took a swig of the energy drink sitting on her desk and grimaced, it went down jagged, like battery acid. “It set him off.”

“Yes.” Strange pulled a crime scene photo out of the file. “Here. Here he revisits the violence from the previous crime scene. He sees women fighting back against him and it’s deeply personal. How dare they?”

“So what does that mean for us?” Thor slid off the desk and stalked over to Mia’s side, placing a hand on the desk and leaning down to look at the picture.

“I’d wager he’s going to take another shot at the DA in the near future. He’s not going to want to take her public excoriation sitting down. He wants to punish her.”

The partners shared a look, Mia twisting around in her chair to look up at Thor who checked his watch, pulling back the sleeve of his jacket to see the face.

“That’s our cue.” He slapped the psychologist on the shoulder as he headed for the door. “Gotta go pick up the kid.”

Mia rolled her eyes and downed the rest of her drink as she rose from her chair.

Dr strange straightened the pages of the file and then, remembering something, called after them. “Whoever this guy is, somebody knows him. He’s self-important, talks a lot. Probably harasses women, talks down to ‘em. If you think he’s from the straights, ask around. If you’re in the right place it won’t take long to find someone he’s rubbed the wrong way.”

Thor offered a thumbs up as he headed down the hallway. Mia smiled and uttered a, “Thanks Doc,” as she closed the door.

Part 7

#Thor Odinson #Thor x Reader #Thor x you #Thor fic #Marvel fic #MCU #Avengers #Thor Imagine #Thor #Thor AU #Marvel #Detective AU #Thor x Reader fluff #Thor x Reader Angst #Thor x OC #My writing

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captainamerivel · 5 years

Text

endgame

read part one , civil war , and part two , infinity war

a/n : the conclusion :) thanks for sticking by me on this short foray into the world of avengers fanfiction. i think i like it here. maybe i’ll still around for a little while. THIS INSTALLMENT INCLUDES MAJOR ENDGAME SPOILERS (there are actual endgame quotes in here and major plot points are here too). DON’T READ IF YOU’VE NOT SEEN THE MOVIE YET!

word count : 4.9k

tags : @batfam16

Steve watched in horror as you turned to dust before his very eyes.

“Steve?”

“Y/N?”

“Steve!”

Steve shot up out of bed, soaked in sweat. Just a dream, Rogers. It was just a dream.

His heart was beating too fast to even consider going back to sleep. It’d been three weeks since he’d watched you fade away, along with half of everyone else on Earth. He couldn’t cry anymore, couldn’t physically create tears after what had happened. Nothing hurt worse than watching you die right in front of him. There was nothing he could do about it then and nothing he could now. And that killed him inside.

He glanced over at the clock. 4:15AM. No one else in the compound would possibly be up right now.

Tossing the blanket from his body, Steve made quick work of getting up and changing into a new shirt. Heading down to the kitchen, he was surprised to find Natasha standing there eating a sandwich. She looked exhausted. “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shook his head. “Bad dreams. You?”

“Same.” Nat let out a deep breath. “Carol’s still out there looking for Tony. She hasn’t checked in in days.”

“She’ll find him.” Steve poured himself a glass of water, sipping slowly.

“Steve, she’s been out there for weeks. We should prepare for – “

“Don’t say it!” His fingers tightened around the glass, causing it to crack. “She’ll find him, and he’ll know what to do. He’ll know how to bring everyone back.”

Natasha stared at her friend, tears welling in her eyes. “We’ll get her back, Steve.”

“I sure hope so.”

Everything reminded him of you. Not a day went by when you didn’t occupy at least ninety percent of Steve’s thoughts. Some days, he missed you so much, he couldn’t physically move.

He left the compound six months after the snap, going back to the apartment he’d had before you. All pictures of you were kept in a box at the foot of his closet; all except one. That one stayed in his wallet, although after a few years it had started fading, so he tried not to pull it out as much.

It got easier after a while. Day by day, month by month, it hurt just a touch less. Eventually it got to the point where he remembered you with only a dull ache in his heart. He never forgave himself though, never stopped blaming your death on his own failure.

“You’re pulling your punches, Grimith.”

Steve swung at the CIA agent in front of him and she ducked, landing a right hook into his abdomen.

“That’s better. Follow through.” She swung again, hitting his hand pads a few times before kicking one of his legs, forcing him to kneel.

“I’m so sorry!” She rushed, kneeling next to him as he grimaced in pain.

“Don’t. Apologize.” He took a deep breath, rising and offering her a hand. “Combat isn’t a fair trade off of blows. You see an opening, you take it.”

His alarm went off, alerting him that he had half an hour to get to his next appointment. “Same time next week?”

“You know,” She started slowly as Steve held open the rope for her to climb out of the ring. “We could always talk outside of training. Perhaps over dinner or drinks?”

Steve froze. This wasn’t the first time one of his trainees had expressed interest in him.

He gave Grimith a soft smile. “Thanks, but I try not to mix my personal life with my professional life.”

“Of course.” He could hear the slight sting of rejection in her voice. “Same time next week, Captain.”

He quickly unwrapped his hands, stripped and hopped into one of the gym’s showers. The hot water was soothing over his aching muscles. The gym had become like a second home to him. He threw himself in working out and training others; took his mind off the rest of the world. He felt bad for lying to Grimith, but he wasn’t fully ready to try and start something new. He wasn’t ready to move on from you.

Twenty minutes later, Steve was completely cleaned and across the street, setting up donuts and coffee for his group counseling session. People started trickling in slowly, and within just a few minutes, all of the seats were filled.

“Good evening, everyone.”

“Good evening.”

“Does anyone want to start us off?”

There was a thick silence as everyone looked around at each other.

“What about you Steve?” The man to his left, Anthony, asked. “We’ve been coming to these meetings every week for the past year and a half, yet no one’s heard your side of the story.”

Steve looked around, everyone seeming to be in agreeance.

“Okay.” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his seat. “In 1945, I met a woman named Peggy Carter. She was amazing. Beautiful, smart, tough as all hell. But I laid down my life for my country and in doing so, secured the fact that we would never have a future together. When I was recovered and woke up in 2012, she was still alive, but she’d moved on. Got married, had children. She lived a full life and encouraged me to move on and do the same.”

Steve’s throat was getting tight, but he pushed on. “I never planned on falling in love after Peggy. I was okay with just defending the world until I died. Then, two years later, I met Y/N and my whole world changed completely. As cheesy as it may sound, she turned my whole life around. I wasn’t just fighting to make the world a better place. I was fighting to make the world better for her. Everything I did was for her at that point. But I screwed it up when I became a fugitive in 2016. I thought I was protecting her when I left, but I’d just unknowingly pushed her closer to danger.”

Steve stopped, willing himself to not cry. Anthony gave him a comforting pat on the arm. “You’re in a safe space, Steve.”

“Thanks.” Steve took a deep breath. “She fought next to me in the Battle of Wakanda. We had an agreement; She wasn’t supposed to die, and I wasn’t supposed to let her die. Thanos’ snap didn’t care about our agreement. She dusted right in front of me, and because of her enhancements, she felt it the whole damn time.”

He couldn’t help the tears at that point. “I keep wondering to myself, if I hadn’t let her, if she hadn’t been out there with me, would she still be here today?”

“You can’t think like that Steve.” The woman across from him held out a box of tissues, which he took graciously. “You said it yourself, Thanos wiped out half of all life at random. There’s no way of knowing if any of our choices had any influence on what happened. All we can do is move forward and figure out our lives one day at a time.”

Steve nodded. “She was a better person than I was. Compassionate, loving. Now, I’m just hoping to live a life that she’d be proud of.”

“And I’m sure she would be.” Steve looked over at Anthony. “You make a noble living, teaching self-defense at the gym. You never hesitate to help out those in need. You’re a good soldier, Steve, but more than that, you’re a good man.”

“Thank you.” Steve quickly pulled himself together. “Anyone else want the spotlight?”

Everyone shook their heads. “Then I guess we’ll call it a night. Of course, I’ll be here next Wednesday night at six if anyone thinks they still need help.”

There was a buzz of conversation as everyone got up to leave, saying their goodbyes. Steve made quick work of cleaning up, folding chairs and sweeping just to make the janitors' job a little easier.

Returning to his apartment, Steve pulled down the box of pictures and sat on the bed to look through them. With every photo, his smile grew. You sleeping, you hiding from his camera, the two of you kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower. He didn’t notice that he’d been crying again until a tear hit the laminated paper.

Every week, Steve’s life continued like that. Training five days a week, counseling every Wednesday, distracting himself with mindless work like repairing his bike. Day in and day out, Steve kept himself busy, kept himself moving to try and keep himself from giving up.

There was one week though that threw him off. Something just felt wrong, so after that Wednesday’s meeting, he took a detour and found himself at the old Avenger’s compound.

Natasha sat in front of a miserable peanut butter sandwich, tears rolling down her cheeks as she tried not to have a full meltdown.

Steve propped himself against a bookshelf and looked at her with a heavy heart, “You know, I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem pretty miserable already.”

Nat looked up with a small smile. “You hear to do your laundry?” “And to see a friend.”

Talking to Nat was so comforting to Steve, a comfort he hadn’t allowed himself to indulge in for years. It reminded him of simpler times, easier times when his biggest issue was an army of artificially intelligent robots. He was so caught up with her that he was genuinely startled when Scott Lang popped up on the security cameras.

Steve was on his feet in a second. “Is this an old message?”

“It’s the front door.”

Everything was happening so fast; Steve almost couldn’t process it all. One minute, Tony was slamming the door in his face, telling him that time travel was impossible. The next, he was being fitted for a suit that would be compatible with the Quantum Realm.

“Did you design her suits?”

Tony looked up from his sketches to where Steve was redressing himself. “The last one. She didn’t like my first designs.”

“What was wrong with them?”

Tony chuckled, pausing what he was doing to pull up a holographic closet. Suddenly, Steve was surrounded by suits that were all roughly your size. He immediately saw the issue. “These look the suits you’ve designed for me.”

Every single hologram had an almost exact replica of a suit Steve had worn. The designs were all mostly the same, red and white stripes wrapped around the torso with a giant start in the middle of the chest. “If she had worn these, she would have looked like me.”

Tony picked up the pain in his friends’ voice. With a sigh, he turned off the projection. “Y/N didn’t want the world to think she was trying to be a new you. The world already had a Captain America. She just wanted to help people.”

“She died thinking that I’d abandoned her.”

“Then when we bring her back, I’d suggest you inform her otherwise.” Tony tossed something at Steve, which he caught easily. “That’s the key to her room. You might want to take a look inside.”

Steve looked with confusion between the key and Tony a few times before quickly making his way to the elevator. It was only one floor and he knew he probably would have moved faster on the stairs, but he needed the time to calm the beating of his heart. Although it was still racing by when he got to your door.

He wasn’t prepared for what he saw when he stepped inside. At first glance, your room was plain. Grey curtains, black sheets, not much personalization at all. When he stepped in and shut the door, he noticed the giant world map all marked up with pins and yarn. There were clusters of headlines and grainy images of him scattered everywhere, with your trail stopping abruptly in the UK.

Steve couldn’t help by laugh to himself. “Oh baby, you were so close.”

Steve’s urge to fight was renewed as he opened your nightstand drawer and found a framed photo of the two of you. For the past five years, he’d always just assumed that you’d gotten rid of any trace of your relationship. Not once did he consider that you might not have completely moved on.

He slept in your bed that night.

This is going to work, Rogers. You’ll get her back. You’ll get everyone back. Steve’s heart was racing as he made his way up onto the time machine.

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends. We lost family. We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams; you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know, that doesn’t mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we’re going to win. Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

“He’s pretty good at that.” Rocket whispered.

Scott raised his eyebrows. “I know right.”

Nat gave Steve a giddy, almost childlike smile. “See you in a minute.”

And just like that, they were off.

Everything happened so fast.

“Hail Hydra.”

“I can do this all day.”

“That is America’s ass.”

“You trust me?”

Director Margaret Carter.

Suddenly, there was only a thin pane of glass and some blinds separating Steve from the woman he’d once loved. She looked so beautiful and alive. Steve wanted so badly just to touch her again, to kiss her and let her know that he was okay; that he didn’t die that day in ’45.

But he didn’t.

Steve saw the small gold band on her hand and smiled. She’s happy.

Making sure the coast was clear, he gave her one last glance before slipping back out of her office and out of the building. For fear of being recognized, he hung back when he noticed Tony walking with Howard Stark, only giving him a quick thumbs up.

“You got the particles?” Tony asked as the two practically ran away from the army base.

“Of course, I got the particles.” Steve pulled him into the trees where no one could see them. “You got the cube?”

“What do you think this means?” Tony tapped twice on the briefcase in his hands. “Let’s just go home.”

Despite having just done it thrice in the past hour, soaring through space and time still gave Steve a slightly queasy feeling. He was relieved to land back in the compound next to Tony and Bruce.

Bruce looked around. “Did we get them all?”

Rhodey chuckled, holding up the power stone in its rock. “You’re telling me this actually worked?”

Steve noticed when Clint sunk to his knees, pain overcoming his features.

“Clint, where’s Nat?”

Steve had his shield up, protecting himself as Bruce howled in pain. He took a step forward.

“Bruce, are you okay?”

“Talk to me, Banner!” Tony took the same step up.

“I’m okay, I’m okay.” Bruce hoists his arm up, struggling to snap his fingers.

There’s a wash of energy over the room and Bruce falls to the floor and the gauntlet falls away.

“Bruce!” Steve drops to his knees next to his friend but holds back from touching him for fear of causing more pain.

“Don’t move him!” Tony quickly iced Bruce’s burnt arm. Bruce held tight to Steve’s arm.

“Did it work?”

Thor was on his other side. “Worth a shot. It’s over. It’s okay.”

“Guys,” Scott called from where he was standing at the window. “I think it worked.”

Bruce opened his eyes in relief, smiling. That smile was gone in a split second when he saw the array of missiles fired at the compound.

CRASH!

For a split second, Steve felt like he’d been hit by a bus. Every muscle and every bone in his body ached.

“Come on buddy. Wake up.”

Steve gasped as his eye flew open. Tony was standing over his, looking worse for wear and holding his shield.

“That’s my man. You lose this again, I’m keeping it.”

“What happened?” Steve groaned as he stood and took the metal disk.

“You mess with time; it tends to mess back. You’ll see.”

The two made their way through the rubble to where Thor was staring at a sitting Thanos.

How is that possible? Steve thought angrily.

“What’s he been doing?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Where are the stones?” Steve strapped his shield to his arm tightly, standing up just a bit straighter.

Tony motioned to the mess. “Somewhere under all this. All I know is he doesn’t have them.”

“So, we keep it that way.”

“You know this is a trap, right?”

Tony never took his eyes off the titan. “Yeah. I don’t much care.”

“Good. Just as long as we’re all in agreement.” Thor took a deep breath and held out both his hands. The rumble of lightning was heard, and it struck him, delivering both Stormbreaker and Mjolnir and materializing his armor. “Let’s kill him properly this time.”

You could feel as every fiber of your being was stitched back together. Everything was moving excruciatingly slow, but finally, after what felt like an eternity, you were on your feet in the fields of Wakanda. You ignored the ache in your muscles as you start walking around, watching everyone pick themselves up.

“What the hell happened?” You turned to Bucky, who was observing the grounds just as you were. “Where’s Steve?”

“I don’t know.” You tapped the communicator in your ear. “Steve? Tony? Can anybody hear me?”

“I can.” Sam was lying on his back, wings extended. You held out a hand to help him to his feet. “I hate to be the one to say it, but I’m pretty sure we died.”

King T’Challa stood next to you. “I think he is right.”

“Then that begs the question. How the hell are we alive now?”

Your mask materialized over your head. “T.A.D.A.S.H.I., call Tony.”

There were a million things happening in front of your eyes, but you focused on the top corner where your A.I. was searching. “Madam, it would appear as though F.R.I.D.A.Y. just sent out a distress signal. The War Machine suit sent out the same signal. Shall I respond?”

“Yes. Where are they?”

“They are outside the compound in New York. It seems there’s been some kind of explosion.”

“We’ve got to New York!” You rushed, mask disappearing.

“Look.” You turned to where Bucky was pointing. There were gold spark floating mid-air, and they were popping up all over the field. Slowly, you moved towards the one closest to you as it expanded. Your gun was drawn when a guy popped his head through.

“Let’s go.”

“Who are you?”

He rolled his eyes. “My name is Doctor Steven Strange. I’m, for lack of a better term, a wizard. Right now, Thanos is about to kill your friend, Captain Rogers. Any more questions.”

You gave him an incredulous expression. “Why should we trust you?”

“Are you being serious right now?” You nodded. The portal expanded ever further and there, standing next to him was Peter.

“Kid!” You rushed through, wrapping your arms around him in relief. “You’re okay!” He hugged you back. “I mean, technically I’m in space, but sure I’m okay. Although the wizard says that Mr. Stark is in a lot of trouble right now so we should probably go help him.”

You held onto him for just a second longer before releasing and turning back to Dr. Strange. “Alright, let’s go.”

You watched in shock and disbelief as all of the portals in Wakanda expanded and Strange’s head ducked into them to give the same spiel. There was a crackle on your communicator and suddenly the destination on the other side of the portal wasn’t Wakanda, but rather the destroyed building where Steve was facing Thanos alone.

“Idiot,” you muttered fondly. Turning back to Peter, you spoke quickly. “When we get out there, you stay close to me. I cannot – I repeat, cannot – lose you again. Got it?”

“Got it.” He gave you a weary smile and a thumbs up.

“Cap, do you copy?” Sam’s voice was clear. “Cap, can you hear me? On your left.”

Strange expanded all the portals and Steve watched as everyone he could possibly think of stepped out. You waited, giving him a small smile when his eyes finally found yours.

I’m sorry, he mouthed.

You chuckled. I forgive you.

A giant burst through the rubble, Hulk, Rhodey and a raccoon hopping out of his hand. Everyone lined up as Thanos’ army did the same.

“Stay close kid,” you reminded Peter, moving forward.

“Avengers…” Steve called, holding his hand out. To your shock, and quite honestly arousal, Mjolnir flew into his grip. “Assemble!”

Your mask was back on and you were charging the battlefield. “T.A.D.A.S.H.I., keep an eye on Pete for me.”

“Yes ma’am.” A small window popped up on your screen that mirrored what Peter was seeing, caringly labeled ‘nanny cam protocol.’

“Pepper, do you have eyes on Tony?” You called.

“Yeah, but I’m a bit preoccupied right now!”

“Pete!” He popped up in front of you. “Find Stark!”

You shot and stabbed your way through groups of aliens. The wounds you acquired were an afterthought as all of the anger and frustration was finally being released. Before you could think about it, you were fighting next to Steve.

“Fancy running into you here.” You joked, shooting the thing that was running up behind him.

“I’m so glad to see you.” He smiled. “I love you.”

You were about to say it back when he wrapped his arm around you, holding the shield over your heads as shots rained down.

“Thank you, Captain.” You shot around his head. “I love you too.”

Your happiness was short-lived as you heard Pete call for help.

“Hey Queens, catch!” Steve threw Mjolnir, Peter’s web snagging it and Pepper catching him midair.

“Madam, the extra legs on the Iron Spider suit have been severely damaged.”

“Shit.” You pulled away from Steve, mask on. “T.A.D.A.S.H.I., take me to him.”

The raining fire seized, and you ran as fast as you could, killing mindlessly. When you got to him, he was curled up in a ball around the Iron Gauntlet.

“Hey, you’re okay.” You knelt next to him, suit building a shield on your back. “T.A.D.A.S.H.I., what’s going on? Why did they stop shooting?”

“Something has just entered the atmosphere, Madam.” You both looked up to see a glowing light whizzing through the sky and straight through Thanos’ ship.

“Danvers, we need an assist here.”

The light came at you fast, blinding you for a minute as she landed on the other side of Peter. He looked to you and then to her.

“Hi. I’m Peter Parker.”

“Hey, Peter Parker.” She gave him a warm smile. You have something for me?”

You helped him to his feet, and he handed off the Gauntlet. “That’s got to get to that brown van over there.”

The three of you looked out across the field. Peter’s eyes were bloodshot, exhaustion taking over his features.

“I don’t know how you’re going to get it through all that though.”

“Don’t worry.” Okoye stepped up. “She’s got help.”

One by one, you were surrounded. Wanda, Shuri, Pepper, a woman on a flying horse, plus a handful of women you’d never seen before.

“You’re done, kid!” You said as you marched with them. “Stay down!”

You fought alongside a woman with green skin and red skin, keeping as many aliens away from Peter as you could.

“He’s got the stones!”

You froze, looking up as Thanos fought Carol. Not again.

He knocked her off, securing the gauntlet on his wrist and raising his arm. “I am inevitable.”

He snapped.

Nothing happened. Tony was kneeling in front of him. Raising his right arm, he gave Thanos a smirk. “And I. Am. Iron. Man.”

Thanos’ army began decimating. The aliens advancing all turned to dust just before they could reach you. Your heart blossomed with relief. It’s over.

“Madam.”

“What is it, T.A.D.A.S.H.I.?”

“Mr. Stark’s vitals are dropping rapidly.”

“Tony?” You rushed to him, Peter hot on your trail.

Steve caught you before you could kneel next to him. There were tears in your eyes as you processed his burnt arm and pale skin. You turned, crying into Steve’s shoulder at the sound of Peter’s voice.

“Mr. Stark, we did it. We won and you did it, sir. I’m sorry. Tony.”

You forced yourself to pull it together, wiping your eyes quickly and pulling him close to you.

“We’re gonna be okay,” Pepper whispered. “You can rest now.”

“Everybody wants a happy ending, right? But it doesn't always roll that way. Maybe this time. I'm hoping if you play this back... it's in celebration. I hope families are reunited. I hope we get it back, in somewhat like a normal version of the planet has been restored, if there ever was such a thing. God, what a world. Universe now. If you told me 10 years ago that we weren't alone, let alone you know to this extent... I mean, I wouldn't have been surprised. But come on, you know. That epic forces of darkness and light that have come into play. And for better or worse, that's the reality Morgan's going to find a way to grow up in. So, I found a private area to record a little greeting in case of an untimely death on my part. Not that death at any time is ever timely. This time travel thing that we are going to pull off tomorrow... it's got me scratching my head about the survivability of all this. But then again that's the hero gig. Part of the journey is the end. What am I tripping for? Everything is going to work out exactly the way it's supposed to.”

Tony’s hologram rose from the chair he was on and bent over, meeting his daughter’s terrified eyes. “I love you 3000.”

You couldn’t help the tears that streamed down your face as the message ended. Steve rubbed a comforting hand over your arm, holding you close as a few tears of his own rolled down his cheeks.

“I’m going to get some air.” You whispered to him, slipping out of his arms. You were careful not to make any not any noise as you stepped outside and took a deep breath. The lake provided a nice layer of background noise, allowing you to sit on the front steps and cry freely.

You didn’t notice when Steve came out and sat next to you.

“They were the best of us,” he said softly.

You nodded, leaning into him. “It’s not fair. All Nat and Tony needed was a good family. They finally got that and Thanos just snatched it away.”

“Y/N, if I’d—”

“I know.” You cut him off with a sad smile. “If you’d gone up there with her, you would have jumped. Without a second thought.”

You reached up and stroked his cheek. “Your overwhelming amount of love for others is why I fell in love with you.”

“I’m so sorry for what happened all those years ago.” He bowed his head in shame. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I should have just listened to Tony, but I wasn’t thinking.”

“You can’t beat yourself up for that anymore, Steve.”

“I saw Peggy.” You pulled away from him in confusion. “When Tony and I were trying to get the Tesseract in the seventies. I was hiding out and saw her through a window. She had on a wedding ring and as soon as I saw I knew. We were never meant to be together.”

“What do you mean?”

“Since Thanos’ first attack, I’ve been thinking about destiny and fate and what it all really means. I thought that Peggy was the love of my life in ’45 and when I woke up, I thought that fate was just playing some cruel game with me. Then I met you and I thought, ‘Is destiny giving me another chance?’ Of course, I blew it with the Accords, but going back and seeing her married and running SHIELD, it made me realize that even though I loved her and always will, you are my destiny. You always have been. I don’t want to go back and try to fit myself into the life I assumed I’d have. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Build a house, start a family, grow old together. I thought I wanted all of that with her but seeing her just made me realize that I want it with you.”

“Steve, I—”

He cut you off quickly. “You don’t have to give me an answer now. I love you and I will wait for as long as you need me to.”

You searched his eyes for any sign of insincerity or doubt, but there was none. Smiling, you leaned in to peck his lips.

“Aren’t you like 105? Can you even still have kids?”

He laughed, pulling you as close as possible. “We’ll find out.”

the end.

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