steviesmarigold

[steviesmarigold]

Title: There's Something Out There (I Can Hear it Calling) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Word count: 12,080 Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Alexander Pierce, Nick Fury, Maria Hill, James "Bucky" Barnes Additional Tags: Canon Divergence - Movie: Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014), Magical Realism, Canon-Typical Violence, POV Outsider, POV Multiple, Eye Trauma, Explosions, HYDRA Character Death Summary:

What if Steve died fighting the Winter Soldier.

What if he came back.

(A Winter Soldier/The Wraith (1986) AU)

Read it on AO3

[steviesmarigold]

HE'S SO BIG BUT LOOKS SO TINY 😭

[steviesmarigold]

DOMESTIC AU sleepy rogers gets sassy 

[steviesmarigold]

Chris cameo

[steviesmarigold]

All soups are good soups! And I only have 11 slots so I apologise in advance if your favourite isn’t here.

[steviesmarigold]

Bucky knowing at least 31 languages according to CACW, super serum brain enhancements and the fact he learned Xhosa in Wakanda, leads me to believe he must have the fucking gnarliest of language blurring. You know when you can't seem to figure out how to word something in one language so you skip over to a different one but wait no one knows that...

I also don't think English would be Bucky's default language anymore. It's his birth language, sure, but Russian is probably the language he defaults to now after 80 years right?

So if Bucky's ever delirious for whatever reason, extreme tiredness, magic, super drugs or whatever who knows, do we think he talks in the most insane blend of languages, does he say a sentence in Japanese then switch to Korean and then to Polish, do we think he'd point blank say "I'm sorry I don't speak English" in English to his English speaking friends or teammates because he thinks in Russian and about fifteen other languages before he gets to English, and then goes "oh wait I do" or...?

[steviesmarigold]

heh

[steviesmarigold]

the work we do

by Tenillypo

Fandom: Captain America (Movies) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes & Natasha Romanov Characters: Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes, Avengers Team Members (Marvel) Additional Tags: Post-Movie: Captain America: Civil War (2016), Action/Adventure, Missing Scene, Rescue Missions, The Raft Prison (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Protective Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Protective Steve Rogers, BAMF Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, POV Outsider Summary:

Natasha stares openly, fascinated. It isn't like she'd imagined, seeing them together. She'd been picturing the version of Barnes as she'd known him. And that person is in front of her now, but he's only one piece of the whole. Here, with Steve, he's a three dimensional person come to life, not the flattened copy of a man who she remembered.

Missing scenes from the Raft rescue.

_

My second WIP Big Bang 2024 fic done! Glad to have it finished after 8 years of sitting half done in my WIP folder. Natasha! Steve! Bucky! Prison breaks! Feelings!

(I am never signing up for more than one again, though. I thought not asking for art would for this one would make it less stressful, but it... did not, lol. Lesson learned, I guess)

[steviesmarigold]

What if, one Avengers movie night at the tower, the team decides to watch Four Weddings and a Funeral because Steve and Bucky have never seen it, and apparently, that's shocking.

Steve has been kind of quiet all evening, not joining in with the usual banter or even munching on popcorn like the rest of them, just watching the screen silently and sitting very still.

Two weddings come and go, and then, it's time for the titular funeral.

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone," the pale Scottish man recites W.H. Auden's poem, visibly overcome with emotion as he remembers his deceased beloved.

He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good.

The poem's final words hang in the air for a moment, bleak and heavy with sadness, and then suddenly, Steve makes a sound. It's not intentional, he just can't seem to stop it. Like the wave that's been building inside of him, quietly but inexorably mounting higher and higher, finally crests. A sob escapes him, sounding like it's torn from his chest, harsh and incongruent in the heavy silence of the room - and then, he starts to cry uncontrollably.

All heads swivel in his direction, surprised at the sudden outburst, but it’s just Bucky who is up like a shot, immediately reaching out for Steve. Steve curls in on himself, trying to hide his face in his hands, his whole body shaking with heaving breaths and big, ugly sobs.

“Oh, Steve, Stevie, hey." Bucky's hands are on Steve's shoulders; soothing, anchoring. “It’s okay. You’re okay, hey, sshhh.”

The words don't seem to register, bouncing uselessly off the wall of sorrow surrounding Steve, so Bucky wraps his arms around Steve's shaking frame instead and pulls him in, close to his chest. Steve resists for half a second before he melts into it, hugging Bucky back tightly, desperately, clinging hard enough to crack a rib in someone not enhanced.

“You were d-dead,” Steve chokes out, in between sobs. “You were dead and I – I m-mourned you. Bucky, I couldn't... I w-wasn't - Buck- Bucky.”

The last iteration of his name resembles a wail more than a word, heartwrenching, cutting right through Bucky's bones.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky says, inadequately, miserably. “I’m so sorry.” He rubs Steve’s back, over and over, shivering when Steve buries his nose in the crook of his neck, like he wants to burrow under Bucky's skin. Bucky presses his cheek against Steve's hair, trying to give Steve the comfort he's finally admitting to needing. "I’m here now. We’re both here. I’m never leaving you again, Steve. Never again, I promise.”

This time, the words get through to Steve, but instead of calming him down, they just make him weep even harder. He cries and cries until finally, his entire, big body shudders in Bucky's arms and some of that awful tension finally drains from his shoulders.

When his grip on Bucky loosens a little, Bucky pulls back to look at him. Steve’s face is blotchy red and wet, but his eyes are like cut diamonds, deep blue and bright with tears and emotion. He is, without a shadow of a doubt, the most beautiful thing Bucky has ever seen. Slowly, Bucky lifts a hand to Steve’s face, gently brushing his bangs away from his forehead. Apart from the occasional aftershock, Steve stays still, arms still wrapped around Bucky’s waist, their faces only inches apart. Steve's face, usually so controlled, is now wide open, love and adoration and awe all right there on the surface, plain for anyone to see.

Steve looks at him like Bucky hung the moon, like he’s his North and South and East and West, and Bucky feels too small to warrant it all, small but solid like a gem, precious and cherished in the face of Steve’s devotion.

When Steve’s eyes flick down to his mouth and linger there, his gaze rapt, transfixed, Bucky's heart trips. They haven't -- not since Bucky came back to Steve, not in this century, and Bucky hadn't been sure he'd remembered right, but now... Bucky's lips part on a soft, stunned gasp, and then before he can so much as blink, Steve surges up and presses his own lips against Bucky's. Bucky gasps again, arms coming up to take Steve's face in his hands, cradling it tenderly in his palms, metal and flesh alike.

The kiss is as much a thrilling, breathtaking culmination of years of silent yearning as it is the easiest, most obvious thing in the world. It makes everything that's felt just slightly off-balance over the past seventy-odd years finally right itself, pieces falling into place, the red thread of fate untangling itself and smoothing out, stretching taught and vibrant between them.

They're not sure how long they stay there like that, wrapped up in each other, revelling in the feeling of finally being together, being whole again. But when they finally break apart, Steve's eyes are closed and his face serene, finally at peace. He hums softly when Bucky rests his forehead against Steve's and rubs them together, lightly, comforting. The room around them is silent, the TV turned off, everyone else gone.

There'll be curiosity later, gentle teasing and well-intentioned demands for explanations, and that's alright. But for now, it's just Bucky and Steve, and a love that burns as bright and all consuming as the sun, as endless as the moon and stars.

[steviesmarigold]

"Ok, ma'am that'll be 226.03$."

I take my wallet out of my pocket and unfold it. It is empty other than a single moth that lazily flies out. The moth lands on the tap point of the card reader. There's a beat, and my payment is processed. The moth flies back into my wallet and I put it back in my pocket.

[steviesmarigold]

no one:

steve rogers and natasha romanoff in every mcu movie:

[steviesmarigold]

If Seb was still active on instagram:

🤭🫣🤣

[steviesmarigold]

i don’t have time to write (nor can my mind put logical creative sentences in writing anymore) but i have had so many stucky fic ideas and it simply makes me so sad so this might become somewhere i just create run on sentences describing the bedtime stucky stories i tell myself

[steviesmarigold]

[steviesmarigold]

Chris Evans as Steve Rogers in

Captain America: The Winter Soldier

[steviesmarigold]

congratulations 🌱✨

thank you to @bride-ofquiet for the excellent meme 💓

[steviesmarigold]

steve and bucky touching each other in casual, mindless ways. a hand on a lower back in passing, a brush to a hip as one steps behind the other in the bathroom to get to the shower. hair ruffles and teasing jabs. a hand on a thigh while driving or a leg flung over a lap while watching tv. moving into each other’s space and fitting like puzzle pieces, even though they’re irrevocably changed, because at their very core, they belong to each other. the other’s skin and bones and extension of their own