#Sharon carter

[scarlethexelove]

ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ ᴄᴀʀᴛᴇʀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ꜱᴏᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴇx), ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ ᴍᴀxɪᴍᴏꜰꜰ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2095

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ ɪꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀʙᴜꜱɪᴠᴇ ɢɪʀʟꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ. ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴꜱ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ᴀꜰᴛᴇʀ ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ ᴘᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴏꜱᴘɪᴛᴀʟ?

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ⚠️ᴀʙᴜꜱᴇ⚠️, ⚠️ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ⚠️, ⚠️ɪꜱᴏʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ⚠️, ᴍᴜʀᴅᴇʀ, ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ (ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴡᴀɴᴅᴀ)

ᴀ/ɴ: ꜱᴏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴡᴀʏ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪɴ ꜱᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴏꜰ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ʏᴇᴀʀ ʙᴜᴛ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏᴛ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴍᴇꜱꜱᴀɢᴇꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʙᴀꜱᴇᴅ ᴏꜰꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴏɴɢ ɢᴏᴏᴅʙʏᴇ ᴇᴀʀʟ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪxɪᴇ ᴄʜɪᴄᴋꜱ (ᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪᴄᴋꜱ). ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴏʀʀʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ꜱʜᴀʀᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴅ ɢᴜʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ. ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ. ᴀʟꜱᴏ ʙɪɢ ꜱʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ @wandamaximoffsbadgirl ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʟᴘɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ. ɪ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏꜱ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀ ꜰɪᴄ.

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN

A small tear runs down your cheek as you watch Wanda walking away. A suitcase pulled behind her as she starts her new life. A new life without you. Everyone always joked you two were inseparable but now things are different.

An arm tightly grips yours and you quickly wipe your cheek. “Baby it's time to go. You still have me.” Sharon whispers in your ear. You nod, she's right you did have her. She was all you had left and so you clung onto her. Following obediently behind, turning back and watching Wanda until you couldn't see her anymore. A flame within you extinguishing with her.

You and Sharon have dated for a year now.  What you haven't realized is how she has slowly isolated you from all your friends and family. Wanda was the last one to stick around and now even she is gone.

You were curled up on the couch, looking at your phone. When was the last time anyone had talked to you? Wanda had been the last one, but it was before she left...she hasn't messaged since.

“What are you looking at?” Sharon's voice cuts through startling you. “No-nothing.” You shouldn't be scared to look at your phone right. You did nothing wrong so why does it feel like you have. Everything has gotten worse since Wanda left. Things have shifted in Sharon and not for the better.

Sharon comes over, trying to take the phone from your hand, gripping at your wrist just to take it from you. Seeing Wanda on your phone has her grip tightening. She pulls you closer, anger seething out. “Why are you waiting for her to contact you!? She left you! Everyone left you but me! Am I not good enough!?” She says through gritted teeth, mear inches from your face.

It takes everything in you not to whimper as her grip tightens and the fear that runs through you. She's right everyone has left you. She's the only person you have left. On her good days she is the sweetest but those days are few and far between now but you keep your hopes up. Hope that Sharon will go back to the woman you fell in love with. At Least you keep telling yourself you loved her.

The days pass and it feels like more bad than good. Everything seems to be setting her off. You can't do anything right. You can't even look at yourself in the mirror anymore...not with the bruises and the hollow look in your eyes nowadays

Today your phone rings for the first time in forever. You rush out of the bathroom and try to get to your phone but you're stopped dead in your tracks when Sharon picks it up and immediately sends it to voicemail. “Sharon.” You let out in frustration as you try to grab your phone from her. 

“I told you, you're mine.” Sharon grips your wrist. You try to pull your arm away and as you do she lets you go and you lose your balance falling down the stairs. That was finally the last straw and you went to one person you knew would help. Natasha, she helped you get a restraining order and move out. Everything seems to finally be looking up.

You stayed with Natasha for a bit and finally saved up enough for your own place, but you should have known better. You had finally moved in and finally had some semblance of normalcy back. That's until you open the door to your sheer horror of Sharon standing in front of you with flowers in her hands.

You try to slam the door shut, but she stops you. Sharon was always stronger than you and though you still tried to push the door she only pushed back harder, making you stumble and fall back into the apartment.

“Baby please.” Sharon walks into your apartment. 

“Sharon I'm not your baby and I have a restraining order. You need to leave.” You try to sound confident but your voice shakes giving you away.

“I know you were upset baby but I've changed. Give me one more chance baby.” Sharon pleads with you, sounding genuine. You don't know if you should believe her or not. She sounds like she really means it. “One date baby. Please, I'll prove it to you.”

You argue with yourself internally. One date can't hurt. “Fine. One date. I get to pick the place.”

She has a wide smile on her face. “Deal.” So you reluctantly get ready for the date while Sharon waits for you sitting on the couch. You feel like it's a whirlwind as you change and head out to a restaurant. You picked somewhere public so you knew she couldn't try anything

It doesn't take long as you both fall into a comfortable conversation. It feels like before, before all the lies and abuse. You let the wall fall as the date goes on. Things feel normal, natural. You had missed this. Could it be better again? Be like this all the time? You feel her hand reach yours, her thumb brushing the back of your hand so gently. You hadn't felt a gentle touch in so long.

All of your walls fall as the date continues. You both walk and talk after eating, holding hands. As the night comes to an end and she walks you home. As you get there and lean against the door frame “This was nice. We should do it again.” You smile. 

“Why not continue it now?”Sharon says and you shake your head.  

“Not tonight.” Sharon looks upset like she wants to say something. To try and convince you, but you kiss her cheek. “Next time.” You say stopping her with the unexpected affection.

So she lets it go for the night. And is convinced for another date later in the week. When that rolls around it goes great. You get closer again and when you finally feel like everything's perfect it starts again. The good days start getting bad again and you know you should leave, but Sharon convinces you to stay, convinces you that she's the only one who's gonna love her. You can't believe how stupid you feel for giving her this second chance.

It all comes to a head one day when you try to go out for the day. “You're not going anywhere. You have stuff to do around the house.” Sharon’s anger already slipping into her words. 

You sigh. “Sharon please. You said you changed.”

You go back and forth until it turns into a screaming match which then gets physical, slapping your face and then grabbing it. “You don't get to go out. You stay here and do as you're fucking told!” You feel so small when she towers over you, voice booming and hands on you.

Your voice is small as you speak. “P-please Sharon. I ne-need out.” 

Sharon’s grip on your face tightens. “I said no you fucking dumb whore.” Her hand goes up and she backhands you now. By the way this is going you know it's not going to end well so you try to fight back.

You certainly try and it ends up worse than ever. With you in the hospital. A broken nose, busted lip, bruised ribs. Everything hurt so much as you stared up at the ceiling. “How could I be so stupid?” You whisper to yourself while Nat had stepped out and tears run down your cheeks

You hadn't even heard the door open before a familiar soft voice broke through. “You're not stupid.” Your head snaps up seeing Wanda. You viciously wipe your tears. Hissing in pain. “Sweetheart.” She is quickly next to you pulling your hands away and gently wiping your tears away. 

“Why are you here?" Your voice is small. 

“I'm still your emergency contact. They called me first.” Wanda’s voice was soft. Soft as if you were a deer ready to bolt. 

You never wanted her to see you like this. It makes you want to cry more. “Oh...I'm sorry...you were states away...you didn't have to come Wands.” You look up at her eyes still blurry. 

Wanda just smiles down at you. “It was worth it. Anything for you is worth it to me.”

Your lip wobbles as a small sob escapes your lips. You've missed Wanda so much and to see her here now you don't know what to do. Wanda's heart breaks as she slides into the bed next to you being gentle not to hurt you. You grip her shirt as you cry into her. “I'm sorry.” You sob.

Wanda rubs your back, gently humming as she rocks you. “There is nothing for you to be sorry about sweetheart.” She soothes you back down until you're practically asleep in her arms. You want to blame it on the meds they gave you, but she always made you feel so safe. She makes a vow that she won't let Sharon touch you ever again. She hates herself for ever leaving you with her. She has to tell you now how much she loves you, even if it ruins everything.

Wanda takes a deep breath. “Sweetheart?” She asks softly. You look up at her sleepily, vulnerable, she can see it on your face. 

“Hm?” You ask, blinking a few times up at her to get the sleep out of them. 

“I love you. I have for a really long time, but I never wanted it to ruin this, us. I know I should have just said it before, but I just–” You cut her off, pulling her down and kissing her, not caring that it hurt your lip.

Wanda holds onto you as you melt into her. When you finally pull back from the kiss you're slightly out of breath. “I love you too wands.” 

She leans her forehead against yours. “I'm never leaving you again. I'm never going to let her hurt you again. I'll kill her if I have to.” Wanda mumbles between the mixed air.

You melt into her. You feel so safe and loved and protected with her. “That doesn't sound like a half bad idea.” You mumble against her.

“I will do anything to protect you detka.” Wanda brushes some hair out of your face, with a soft smile on her face. 

You know it's genuine coming from her. Nuzzling against her hand and smiling for the first time in months. “I know you would Wands.”

Both of your minds start to wonder about how to get rid of Sharon. Can you actually kill her and get away with it? Once you're out of the hospital the two of you plot a way to do it. You plan it out perfectly. 

Poison is what you both settle on. It would take nothing to convince Sharon to come over so that you execute your plan. You have her come over. A tasteless, odorless poison in her drink. She thinks nothing of it until she's choking and Wanda comes out from the other room. Watching her with a smile as she sputters for air.

Wanda gives you a kiss as she wraps her arms around you. She turns to look at Sharon. “You'll never hurt her again. No one for that matter.” You can't help but giggle and nuzzle into Wanda.

You can't believe you did it and got away with it. Life just felt great now. You never had to worry about it anymore. You were safe with Wanda always.

The cops came by looking for Sharon but it wasn't because she was missing. She had also gotten herself into more trouble than what she had done to you. The cops asked if you saw her which obviously you said you hadn't since the attack.

Of course they believed you. How could they not? With the record she had racked up they assumed she fled the state. As you waved the cops off Wanda's arms wrapped around you from behind. Her chin resting on your shoulder as the two of you watched from the front porch as the cops drove away

You turned in her hold and smiled up at her, wrapping your arms around her neck. “Thank you, love.” 

Wanda chuckles lightly. “For what detka?”

 You can help the smile that spreads across your face. “For saving me.” She leans down with a smile, kissing you tenderly, passionately. You knew this was meant to be. You were always supposed to end up with Wanda.

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

[sweetbuckybarnes]

Who is This?: Chapter 1

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Bucky had a wife during the 40s, she was left heartbroken after the telegram arrived (missing, presumed dead). It's surprising when 80 years later, she was working behind a bar in Madripoor of all places!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Bucky followed Sam and Zemo into a loud bar, he immediately wanted to turn around and go home, why had Zemo demanded he go back to being the Winter Soldier (even if it was one night)?

The sound of heavy drums and guitars also deafened his hearing, a song he had come to learn was The Wild Boy by a band called Duran Duran. A few bartenders and waitresses were walking around, there was only one who stuck out to him - a dark-haired young woman who reminded him too much of his departed wife.

His heart breaks even more, thinking of the woman he had left behind, his girl. The love of his life. Bucky doesn't think he will ever 'get over' her.

The way the young woman walked, carrying a tray of empty glasses (before being tossed an empty bottle by a patron), was so similar to the way his girl walked in the hole-in-the-wall diner she worked in.

She wasn't quick enough to duck under the bar before they got to the door leading upstairs (which was coincidentally next to the bar), Zemo was talking to the bouncer. "Excuse me, gentlemen," the young woman said, squeezing between the back of Zemo and the front of Bucky. Which is when he got a good look at her face.

There she was.

His girl. His wife.

He couldn't even say anything to her, as he was taken upstairs and away from his girl. He could only hope he would be allowed back in at the end of the night to see her.

Y/N Barnes made her way behind the bar, glancing up at the TV where the Kansas City Chiefs were currently playing the Buffalo Bills at Arrowhead Stadium, then down at her phone which showed the live score of the Dodgers game against the San Francisco Giants.

She had been a long-time Dodgers girl, even after she found out they had moved from Brooklyn to Los Angeles.

"Did you see the way he was looking at you?" Yasmine asked, pushing a dry Martini in front of a 26-year-old woman.

Y/N looked up from the glasses she was putting in the dishwasher. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"One of the men who went upstairs. The way he was looking at you," Yasmine fans her hand for dramatic effect. "I would drop my panties for him in a millisecond."

"Like you don't do that every night."

Yasmine rolled her eyes and served the next half-drunk who had come to the bar.

"Don't listen to her," Anastasia told her, rolling her eyes as Yasmine flirted with her current flavour of the week.

"It's not often I do, darling," Y/N replied, fiddling with Anastasia's curls for a second, before spotting a patron. "What can I get for you, darling?"

He hung off the bar, obviously far too drunk to understand what was going on. "Another beer and your phone number," he slurred.

She shook her head, reaching over and grabbing him another beer. As far as the boss of the bar (whoever that was) was concerned unless they were unconscious- why should you stop serving them? Y/N thought it wasn't right, but no matter how often she voiced this - she was shut down.

She set the beer in front of him and then went to the register to add it to his bill (good thing she currently has his credit card behind the bar).

"Oi, sweet cheeks!" He calls, but Y/N doesn't pay attention looking over at Yasmine and Anastasia with a raised eyebrow. "Sweet cheeks! I asked for your number."

Y/N replied by simply raising her hand proudly displaying her engagement and wedding rings to the drunk. It was only a small diamond (given Bucky worked on the docks before he was deployed), and the plain band she inherited from her great-grandmother.

"What's the matter with that 'un?" He hiccups. "He got you costume jewellery or somethin'?"

Y/N shook her head. "I'm going into the back for a moment," she tells Aidan.

Little did the drunk patron know, all those years ago, this was the date she was handed the telegraph - putting in such blunt words. Her James was missing, they presumed him to be dead. It breaks her heart that they never got to have a proper funeral.

"You alright, honey?" Elizabeth (another one of the waitresses) asked, she had been outside on her break. Elizabeth was the only one who knew her true age and about her James.

"It's the day I found out James was missing," Y/N said, before bursting into more tears.

Elizabeth wrapped Y/N up in a hug, everyone oblivious to the fact that Y/N's presumed dead husband was now running through the bar, flocked by Sam and Zemo, and into the alley behind the bar.

When Bucky was sure Zemo, Sam and Sharon were asleep, he slipped out of the safe house and into the night - determined to find out if the woman he saw in the bar was that of his (presumably? should be?) dead wife.

He eventually made his way to the front door of the bar, the bouncers had long since gone home. He could see lights on in the building and just about make out words being spoken thanks to the Super Soldier serum running through his veins.

He grasped the handle and gave it a push, the door hadn't been locked, as it gave beneath the slight push.

He could see three young women sitting on the bar, a man who was counting the money from the register and another man who was dancing.

The young woman sitting closest to the bar, had golden curls hanging around her head. "Mark, you didn't lock the door!"

The man dancing, Mark, looked over at Bucky, eyes widening when he saw the size of Bucky. "I say we just serve him, then lock the door behind him."

As the bartenders and waitress argued amongst themselves, Bucky's eyes never left the woman in the middle. It looked as if she had been crying. "Babydoll?"

The woman stopped giggling, tipping her head back to normal and looked at him, before dropping her glass as tears welled up in her eyes. "James?"

The curly-haired woman gasped, setting her glass down and giving Y/N a push off the bar.

Bucky held his arms out to catch her as her feet landed on the floor. He couldn't stop looking at her big eyes, he'd always loved her big expressive eyes. He always knew how she was feeling by just a look in her eyes.

"James? Is that you?" Her hand came out slowly, and shakily, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing in front of her.

"Hi, babydoll," Bucky smiled, tears starting to fall down his cheeks, a heavy sob held tightly in his chest at the moment in time. As soon as her fingers met his skin, Bucky let out a heavy sigh of relief, reaching over and pulling her into his arms. Y/N's arms dug themselves away from his chest and up around his neck before her hand soon started fiddling with his hair.

The couple stood there for a moment, finally finding their slice of peace. Some came barging into the bar, and the dark-haired woman who had been sitting on the other side of Y/N practically demanded Mark lock the door before the Hounds of Baskerville came in.

Y/N was so happy to finally have her James back in her arms, but there was a whirling sound she couldn't let go. "What's that noise?"

Bucky looked from his wife to his arm and back to his bride. "I'll explain everything to you later, but... I lost my arm, and I now have a prosthetic one," he tells her, letting go of her for a moment so he could take his glove off and show her the black and gold Vibranium one he had made.

"Ok, James. It's a good thing you gave me this," she reached beneath her top and pulled a ring out from beneath, hanging from a chain. "Before you were deployed."

Bucky smiled, cupping her face so he could kiss her. Bucky pulled away chuckling a little. "Babydoll, will you please put my ring back on?"

She reached behind her to unclasp the chain, and slid Bucky's band off, "if it doesn't fit we'll get it resized."

"I don't care what size it is, as long as you put my ring back where it belongs," Bucky almost growled, a piece of him falling back into place with the ring back on his finger.

The next morning - Sam, Zemo and Sharon came into the living room, seeing Bucky sleeping on the sofa (Sam was expecting this, after being told by Steve), however, there was a lump lying next to Bucky they didn't recognise.

Sam slowly makes his way over, gently easing down the thick blanket lying over Bucky and the lump.

Lying there, practically on top of the 'bionic staring machine' was a young woman.

"Did he somehow pick up a girl?" Sam whispered. Sam and Sharon were trying to be quiet - however, Zemo (who didn't care) started clattering around the kitchen, causing Bucky to wake up in a start, which then caused the young woman to look up with tired owl-like eyes.

"What the hell is going on?" Bucky nearly demanded, keeping his arms wrapped around his companion.

Sam raised his eyebrow. "I could ask you the same question, Barnes?" Sam looked at the young woman in Bucky's arms. "Who is this?"

Bucky looked down at her, Sam watched as a smile grew on his face. "This is Y/N. Y/N Barnes. My wife."

[avengerscompound]

Captain America: Civil War

[meidui]

CAPTAIN AMERICA: THE WINTER SOLDIER (2014)

[supercalifragipopculturevomit]

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021) Daniel Brühl as Baron Helmut Zemo

I'm convinced the whole show could have been one episode if they just gave Zemo a gun.

[florencebirdsong]

I am so normal and can be trusted with marvel women. Please give me marvel women. I won’t bite them. I am so normal about marvel women. Please give them to me

[literaryavenger]

Steve: Can you at least *try* to be nice to Sharon?

Y/N: To what point?

Steve: She’s my girlfriend! And you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, you know?

Y/N: You catch even more flies with manure, what’s your point?

Steve:

Y/N:

Steve: I don’t-

Bucky, appearing suddenly in Winter Soldier mode: She’s right.

Sam: *Lets out a high pitched scream*

[angelremnants]

American Wedding | S. Rogers

summary : Steve Rogers is throwing himself into mission after mission, trying to outrun the weight of his past—his unresolved feelings for Sharon and the lingering memories of Peggy. But when his commanding officers force him to take a break, Steve ends up on a staycation in Barbados. What begins as a forced respite soon becomes a much-needed escape as he unexpectedly finds healing, peace, and even a connection in the warmth of the Caribbean sun. Steve learns to let go of the past and finally breathe again, even if it’s just for a short while. Inspired by American Wedding (unreleased) by Frank Ocean.

pairing : Steve Rogers x f!reader

warnings : Fluff to angst, imposed traits on the reader such as an origin, emotional healing, mention of past relationships, themes of healing and self-discovery, themes of arranged marriages and family pressure, mentions of emotional and familial abuse, a bit of hurt/comfort, bittersweet ending, mentions of past trauma, mild language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 12.1k

author's notes : I don't know what's wrong with me and writing long fics with major angst. I think I might have a problem.

If you're still as hooked in the MCU fandom as I am, then it shouldn't be a surprise for you that I stumbled upon the infamous Steve edit on American Wedding. Steve was my first little crush when I started getting into the MCU; he might not be my number one anymore, but I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the work and how well it could somehow fit the vibe of our golden boy.

Side note, I chose Barbados just because I love Rihanna (plus, the country is as gorgeous as she is). I tried to respect the culture as much as I could, but please do let me know if something is amiss. Anyways, here's my take on what this song could mean if associated with America's Ass greatest soldier.

(ao3 version)

The mission was over.

Steve Rogers had traded his usual Captain America tight suit for average civilian clothes and now stood just outside a bustling café in Bridgetown, the late afternoon sun casting a golden hue over the vibrant streets of Barbados. He should’ve been relieved. The intel was secured, the rogue operation dismantled, and S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were already working to extract the rest of the loose ends. But instead, Steve felt a familiar weight settle on his shoulders, one he couldn’t quite shake.

The air was heavy with the scent of fried fish and spices, and the sound of calypso music drifted from a nearby street performer. Locals walked by, some glancing curiously at the tall, broad-shouldered man who looked distinctly out of place. Steve’s fingers hovered over his phone, debating whether to call in and request another assignment.

Then, his phone buzzed in his hand, and the name Tony Stark lit up the screen.

Steve answered with a sigh, already bracing himself. “Stark.”

“Capsicle! How’s my favorite star-spangled soldier doing?” Tony’s voice was chipper, the sound of clinking glasses and faint jazz music in the background.

“I’m fine,” Steve replied, scanning the street as though someone might overhear. “Why are you calling?”

“Well, it’s not to remind you to update your playlist based on what I’m hearing in the background—though, seriously, we need to talk about that at some point.” Tony didn’t wait for a response. “No, I’m calling to let you know that for the first time in, oh, forever, we’re at a lull. No alien invasions. No rogue A.I.s. No infinity stones threatening to wipe out half the universe. You know what that means?”

Steve frowned. “That it’s time to prepare for the next crisis?”

Tony let out a dramatic groan. “And people say I’m the workaholic. No, Cap. It means you get a break.”

Steve rolled his eyes, leaning against the café’s wooden railing. “I don’t need a break, Tony. There’s always something that needs to be done—”

“Yeah, no. I’m gonna stop you right there.” Tony’s voice turned pointed, though there was still a hint of his trademark sarcasm. “I talked to Fury, and even he thinks you’ve been overdoing it. And considering the guy’s idea of a vacation involves a bunker and a bottle of bourbon, that’s saying something.”

“I’m fine,” Steve insisted, his tone tightening.

“Fine? Really? I mean, do you even know what day it is? Look, pretty much everyone’s off the grid—Sam, Natasha, even Clint’s in retirement mode. And I’m finally getting around to that honeymoon thing with Pepper because, you know, saving the world isn’t as good for a marriage as you’d think. So you? You need to chill.”

“Tony, I’m fine,” Steve had insisted, though even he didn’t sound convincing.

“Yeah, sure. That’s why you’ve been taking back-to-back missions for the past three months. What’s next? Fighting a volcano?”

Steve opened his mouth to respond, then realized he didn’t.

Tony took his silence as confirmation. “Listen, you’re not a machine, Cap. Even super-soldiers need to decompress. Which is why I, in all my infinite wisdom, am forcing you to take some time off.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tony—”

“Ah-ah! No arguments. Fury’s covering part of the bill, and I’m picking up the rest because I’m such a generous friend. You pick the place—anywhere in the world—and I’ll make it happen. You’re welcome.”

Steve glanced around, his eyes lingering on the vibrant life of the island. The azure waters sparkled in the distance, and the rhythmic sway of the palm trees seemed to beckon him. He hadn’t allowed himself a moment to breathe in months, maybe years.

“I don’t know,” Steve said slowly.

Tony groaned again, louder this time. “Come on, Cap. It’s not like I’m asking you to take a yoga class in Malibu. Though, honestly, you’d kill it in downward dog. No, I’m telling you to pick a nice spot, kick back, and—God forbid—relax for once in your life.”

“Tony—”

“Let me paint you a picture,” Tony interrupted, his tone turning theatrical. “A beachfront villa. Sunsets so pretty they’ll make you cry. Maybe a fruity drink with one of those little umbrellas—wait, scratch that, you’re more of a ‘beer and brooding’ guy. The point is, take the damn vacation, Steve. Doctor’s orders.”

Steve sighed, looking out the window of the outpost at the vibrant streets of Bridgetown. “I’ll stay here,” he said finally. “Barbados seems… peaceful.”

“Atta boy!” Tony cheered. “I’ll wire the funds. And hey, if you don’t send me at least one picture of you in a Hawaiian shirt, I’m gonna be very disappointed.”

Steve couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Tony.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously, don’t. I have a reputation to maintain.”

The line went dead, leaving Steve alone with the sounds of the island.

⠀⠀

The first few days in Barbados passed in a blur of quiet solitude. Steve spent most of his time walking along the beach or sitting on the villa’s small porch, nursing a cold drink while the sun dipped below the horizon. For someone used to the constant hum of battlefields, strategy meetings, and high-stakes missions, the stillness was almost unnerving.

But it wasn’t just the quiet that unsettled him—it was the thoughts he’d been pushing aside for months. Thoughts of Sharon.

He’d tried not to dwell on their break-up, but here, surrounded by the warmth and beauty of the island, the memories crept in uninvited. Their relationship had ended just weeks ago, though the cracks had been there for far longer. She had been kind, understanding, and steadfast—everything Steve thought he should want. But every time he looked at her, a small, nagging voice whispered the truth he didn’t want to face.

She was Peggy’s niece.

No matter how much he tried to compartmentalize it, the connection was impossible to ignore. Every time Sharon smiled, there was a flicker of something familiar—her determination, her poise, even the way she carried herself. It wasn’t fair to either of them, but Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been chasing a shadow of the past. Sharon deserved more than that, and so did he.

When they’d finally called it quits, Sharon had been the one to speak the words he couldn’t bring himself to say.

“You’re still carrying her with you, Steve,” she’d said, her voice calm but heavy with resignation. “And maybe you always will. But I can’t be her for you. I don’t want to be.”

The guilt had followed him ever since. Sharon had been right. For all the years that had passed, Peggy still lingered in the corners of his mind—her voice, her laugh, the way she’d believed in him when no one else did. He hadn’t just been grieving Sharon’s absence; he was grieving Peggy all over again.

By the third day, Steve found himself wandering into a bustling part of Bridgetown, hoping the sights and sounds of the island might distract him. The streets were alive with energy—locals bartering at colorful market stalls, tourists snapping photos of historic buildings, and the rhythmic beat of soca music weaving through it all.

“Yuh lookin’ lost, boss,” a young man called out from behind a coconut cart. He was grinning, a machete in hand as he expertly cracked open a coconut.

Steve glanced back at him. “Just exploring.” 

“Ah, well, yuh gotta try dis,” the man said, handing him a freshly cut coconut. “Yuh look like yuh could use a lil’ taste of Bajan life. Fresh coconut water! Or yuh scared of a lil’ machete work?”

Steve smirked politely but didn’t respond, unsure if he was being teased or seriously invited. Before he could decide, you appeared, carrying a basket of fruits and shaking your head with a laugh.

“Jamal, stop tormenting de tourists!” you scolded lightheartedly. “Poor man just tryna enjoy ‘e day without you harassing him.”

Jamal shrugged with a grin, chopping open another coconut. “Ah, just showin’ him how we do it here, yuh know? He look like he need it.”

You turned to Steve, flashing a warm smile. “Ignore him, he does this to everyone. But,” you added, your tone playful, “he’s not wrong. Coconut water will fix whatever ails you. You should try one.”

Steve chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing. “If you say so,” he said, stepping closer.

You nodded approvingly as Jamal handed him the coconut. “See? That wasn’t so hard,” you teased.

Taking a sip, Steve found the cool water surprisingly refreshing. “This is good,” he admitted, glancing at you.

“Good?” you repeated with mock offense. “It’s de best on de island. You’ve got a lot to learn.”

Steve smiled, feeling more at ease than he had in days. “Guess I’ll need a guide, then,” he said, the words slipping out before he could overthink them.

You tilted your head, amusement sparkling in your eyes. “Lucky for you, I know everyone ‘round here. Stick with me, Captain America, and I’ll show you the real Barbados.”

He blinked, surprised you knew who he was.

“Relax,” you said with a wink. “We don’t make a big deal of celebrities' ‘round here. Besides, the way I see it, everybody needs a break—even heroes.”

He guessed he really did well in choosing his destination. 

Steve walked beside you through the busy streets, his coconut still in hand. The initial awkwardness of being recognized faded quickly as you carried the conversation effortlessly, your teasing making him smile more than he had in weeks.

“So, Captain America,” you said, throwing a glance over your shoulder with a grin. “What’s a hero like you doin’ walking ‘round alone in Barbados? Not enough trouble to save us from?”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Actually, I’m here because I was told to take a break. Guess I've been working a little too hard lately.”

“Working too hard? You? Never would’ve guessed,” you teased, your tone playful.

Steve shook his head, grinning. “What about you? You seem to know everyone here.”

“I do. Born and raised. And the people here? They’re my family—even Jamal, with his coconut antics,” you said with a laugh. “You stick wit’ me, and I’ll teach you all de secrets of the island.”

“Secrets, huh?” Steve said, his tone tinged with curiosity. “What kind of secrets?”

You stopped suddenly and gestured toward a small, colorful shack by the road. “For starters, the best fish cutters on the island are right here. Come, you can’t visit Barbados and not try one.”

Steve followed you to the shack, where an older man greeted you like an old friend. As you chatted easily with him, ordering food, Steve found himself watching you with a kind of quiet admiration. You were easygoing, quick to laugh, and had a warmth about you that was magnetic.

When the fish cutters arrived, you handed one to Steve. “Here. And don’t even think of saying it’s just ‘good.’ Dis is heaven in bread.”

He took a bite, his eyes widening. “Wow. Okay, you’re right—this is incredible.”

You smirked. “Told you. The locals always know best.”

As the two of you walked along the beach, the conversation grew more personal. You asked about his life back home, and he answered honestly, even about the heartbreak he was still trying to shake.

“So, this Sharon,” you said carefully, “she’s Peggy’s niece?”

Steve nodded, looking sheepish. “Yeah. It’s… complicated.”

“You think?” you teased gently, bumping your shoulder against his. “Sounds messy. But you know what? Sometimes you just need to let go of what’s complicated and hold on to what’s simple.”

“And what’s simple?” Steve asked, curious.

You stopped walking and turned to face him, your expression soft but playful. “This,” you said, gesturing to the ocean. “Good food, good company, and a little bit of adventure.” He smiled, the sincerity in your voice hitting him in a way he didn’t expect. “I think I’m starting to see your point.”

⠀⠀

Over the next few days, you made good on your promise to show Steve the best of Barbados. True to your word, you showed Steve places that weren’t in any guidebook, sharing bits of history and culture along the way.

“This,” you said one morning, gesturing to a vibrant, bustling market, “is where you get the freshest fruit on the island. And where you learn to bargain.”

Steve watched in awe as you haggled with a vendor, the two of you laughing and bantering in a mix of Bajan dialect and English. When you returned with a bag of mangos and papayas, he raised a brow.

“You just got all that for half the price,” he said.

“Yup,” you said with a grin, popping a slice of mango into your mouth. “You're lucky you've got me, Captain. Otherwise, they’d have charged you double for being a tourist.”

“Good thing I’ve got you,” he said, his tone warm.

Later, you took him to a rum distillery, where you explained the process of making Barbados’ world-famous rum, teasing him as he tried a sample and coughed slightly at the burn.

“That strong for you, Cap?”

“Not strong enough to knock me out,” he replied, his voice laced with humor.

You then took him to the lively Oistins Fish Fry, where he tried grilled marlin and danced awkwardly but earnestly to soca music. You dragged him to Harrison’s Cave, laughing as he marveled at the limestone formations.

“You look like a kid seeing snow for de first time,” you teased.

“I’ve been frozen in snow for seventy years,” he replied, deadpan.

You burst out laughing, and even he cracked a smile at his own joke.

One afternoon, you led him on a hike up to Cherry Tree Hill, where the view of the rolling hills and turquoise ocean was breathtaking. As you stood beside him, the wind tugging at your dress, you glanced at him with a smile.

“You're not bad company, you know,” you said.

“Neither are you,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting in that signature half-smile.

“You keep looking at me like that, and I might think you’re sweet on me, Captain.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed faintly, but he held your gaze. “And what if I am?”

Your eyebrows shot up, surprised but delighted. “Well, then,” you said, stepping closer, “I hope you know you’re in for one hell of a ride.”

As the two of you strolled along a quieter path near the beach, the sunlight danced through the palm trees, and Steve couldn’t help but feel a sense of calm he hadn’t experienced in months. He looked over at you, smiling at how animatedly you were explaining the significance of the bright kites dotting the sky—something about “kite season” and friendly neighborhood competitions.

“You know,” Steve said after a moment, “your accent isn’t quite like everyone else’s around here. It’s still got that lilt, but… it’s different.”

You glanced at him, a little surprised. “You noticed that, huh?”

He nodded. “I guess I’ve got an ear for detail. What’s the story there?”

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “Well, I went abroad for a few years—took my undergrad in the U.S. and just came back home recently.”

“Really?” Steve asked, intrigued. “What’d you study?”

As you walked beside Steve, your voice became more animated as you shared the kind of work you had done during your studies. “Well, when I was in the States for my undergrad, I did my thesis on cultural practices, specifically exploring the dynamics between traditional marriage structures and modern society.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Really? That sounds… complex. What kind of structures?”

“Yuh know, I looked into things like arranged marriages and how they vary across different cultures,” you explained, eyes sparkling with passion. “One part of my research focused on Islamic marriage traditions, particularly around the roles of brides and how modern perspectives are influencing those practices. It wasn’t about judging or anything, just trying to understand how people make it work, despite some of the harsh stereotypes.”

“Wow,” Steve said thoughtfully, clearly impressed. “Sounds like you dove deep into it. You didn’t go for the easy topics, huh?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No, not really. I wanted to tackle something meaningful. And, for me, it was important to explore how even with things like hijabs or polygamy, those traditions have layers, especially when it comes to women’s agency. It’s all about perspective.”

Steve nodded, clearly fascinated by your work. “It’s amazing how much you can learn when you dig into a topic. I guess that’s why you came back here, huh? To work on making a difference in your community.”

You smiled softly, thinking back on your time abroad. “Yeah. I learned a lot, but I always knew I’d come home. There’s so much to do here, and I want to make sure we’re not losing our identity as we modernize. Barbados is home, and I want to help make sure it stays that way.”

You laughed at the thought, shrugging. “Guess it’s de island girl in me. This place is part of who I am. But,” you added with a sheepish grin, “spendin’ so much time abroad, I guess I picked up a bit of de American accent. It slips in sometimes when I talk.”

“I think it’s kind of charming,” Steve said, surprising even himself with the comment.

You raised a brow at him, a slow smile spreading across your lips. “Careful, Captain, or I might think you’re tryin’ to sweet-talk me.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish but amused. “Maybe I am.”

Your laugh rang out, light and melodic. “Well, you’re not too bad at it.”

At one point, while they were sitting on a beachside bench, a gentle breeze tugging at their clothes, Steve caught her eye, and she smiled. That smile. He swore it was the brightest thing in the world, even more stunning than the sun hanging low in the sky behind her.

The conversation continued, with Steve steering it back toward you. He asked about your time abroad, what it was like living away from home, and what made you choose environmental science in the first place.

“And what about you?” you countered, tilting your head as you studied him. “You’ve been saving the world for what—over a century now?”

He chuckled. “Not quite that long, but close.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re slowin’ down anytime soon,” you said, your voice softer now. “But, Steve… don’t you ever just want to stop for a bit? Live a little for yourself?”

Your question caught him off guard. For a moment, he was quiet, the only sounds around you were the gentle crash of waves and the rustle of the wind in the trees.

“I guess I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted.

As you sat on the beach watching the sun dip below the horizon, you turned to Steve with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“So,” you began, “how do you feel about weddings?”

He looked at you warily. “Weddings?”

“Yeah. My… um, distant relative—you probably need a map to figure out how we’re related—is getting married this weekend. It’s a small thing,” you said, “But it’s a family event. You know how it is—everyone wants to show up and make it ‘extra’ for the aunties.”

Steve chuckled. “I’m guessing it’s not going to be your average wedding then?”

“Oh, no,” you grinned, “Think small chapel, a few too many drinks, maybe a bit of dancing, and a lot of awkward family members trying to act like they haven’t been feuding for the past ten years. But, you know, in the best way possible.”

Steve found himself laughing along with you, the ease between you two growing stronger by the minute.

“Actually,” you said with a mischievous grin, “It’s going to be kind of hilarious. I was thinking…” You paused, glancing over at him. “You wanna come with me? As my… plus one?”

Steve blinked in surprise, but there was something about the way you said it, as if you didn’t mind the idea of being together at such a personal family event. “I mean, are you sure? I’m probably not what your family had in mind when they thought ‘plus one,’” he joked, a smile tugging at his lips.

You shrugged, the motion casual, but your gaze was intense. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone really knows what they’re getting when they invite me. And trust me, you’ll be far more interesting than the rest of my relatives.” You glanced at him sideways with a grin. “Besides, maybe they’ll like you more than me.”

“Are you trying to get me to go to your wedding as an act of charity?” he teased.

You laughed. “No, I’m offering you a chance to be part of something completely ridiculous, and trust me, you’ll be talking about it for years.”

“Well, in that case,” Steve said, pretending to think it over, “I guess I’ll be there. But you’ve got to warn me beforehand if there’s any kind of dancing involved. I’m not exactly a pro.”

Your grin widened. “Deal.”

⠀⠀

You had parted your ways when it was well into the night, and soon enough, Steve found himself back in his quaint hotel room, listening to the peaceful waves of the ocean. He laid on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind drifting back to the hours he’d spent with you earlier.

He couldn’t help but replay the way you looked again and again in his mind. The first thing that struck him was how effortlessly beautiful you were. Your skin had looked golden when it caught the sunlight, in a way that made everything around you seem brighter, like you were glowing from within. Your hair had framed your face in soft waves, a contrast to your sun-kissed skin that made you seem like you belonged to the island itself. It hadn’t just been the way you looked, though; it had been the way you carried yourself. You had moved with such ease, like you were perfectly in tune with the world around you, as though every step was measured but never forced.

Your eyes—those eyes—were a shade that had seemed almost impossible, warm and deep, with a spark that made it clear you were fully present, fully alive in every conversation. When you spoke, it had been with an accent that was distinctly Barbadian, but there was a softness to it, a hint of something else—like you’d been somewhere far from home and had returned with more layers than when you left. Your smile had been what had undone him, though. It hadn’t just been the way it lit up your face, but the way it had made him feel like he was the only one in the world you were focusing on, even if it had been just for a moment.

And it hadn’t just been your looks—Steve knew he hadn’t felt this way about someone in years, the way his heart had seemed to skip when you caught his gaze, the way the mere thought of you had made him feel like a teenager again, nervous and unsure but eager all the same. The more he thought about you, the more the feeling had intensified, like a slow burn in his chest. He had tried to push it down, telling himself it had just been the heat, just the newness of it all, but deep down, he had known it wasn’t that simple. He had found something in you, something that had made the weight of everything else just… fade away.

The way you had laughed, your smile so effortless, like you were a living embodiment of the sun that bathed the island in warmth. There had been something about you that had made his chest tighten—something magnetic, yet disarmingly genuine. He had expected a brief distraction on this trip, maybe a drink with a stranger. Instead, you had effortlessly captivated him. Your energy had been infectious, and even in the quiet moments, you had a way of drawing him in. The little quirks of your accent, the way you’d pause mid-sentence to correct yourself, as if speaking a second language you hadn’t used in too long—there had been a vulnerability in it that had made you all the more endearing.

And then there had been the tattoo. That damn tattoo. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He had barely even paid attention to it at first, but after spending hours with you, it had stood out more, like a proud branding. A temporary tattoo you had convinced him to get while you were strolling around. It had been a simple design, a swirling wave pattern across his left hand, something that had matched the feeling of freedom he’d had with you that day. He had looked down at his hand now, the ink still vivid, but with a hint of purple-ish blue where it was starting to fade. You had laughed when he’d rolled up his sleeve to show you, clearly impressed by how well it had suited him. He had never thought he’d have fun getting a tattoo, temporary or not, but the experience had been entirely different with you. Everything had felt light, effortless, fun.

As his mind had wandered further, Steve had found himself imagining something he hadn’t thought about in a long time: the future. The thought of you in a wedding gown, walking down the aisle toward him, had made his heart race. He couldn’t help but picture it, absurdly vivid—you, laughing under the lights, your eyes sparkling as you smiled at him in that way only you could. He’d be there, in a tux, grinning like a fool, probably fumbling over his vows. He could almost hear the judge’s voice, telling them to kiss, and there you’d be—his wife, laughing with him as you made it official in a courthouse with nothing but your hearts and a rush of love propelling you forward. The thought had made him shake his head in surprise, crimson adorning his cheeks. It had been ridiculous, yet it had felt so very real. He had been falling for you in ways he never thought possible.

He had tried to focus on other things—his next move, the mission he had just completed—but as much as he had tried, the tattoo had kept pulling his attention back to you. It hadn’t just been the design; it had been the way it had been something shared between you. A small, playful gesture, but one that had made the whole day feel… connected. He had smiled to himself, the thought of you making his heart race again. He had shifted uncomfortably under the covers, trying to shake off the sudden rush of warmth that had pooled in his stomach.

But as much as he had tried to focus on other things, your laugh had kept echoing in his mind, and the image of you running after his vehicle earlier that day had kept replaying, like something out of a dream he didn’t want to wake from. It had been a feeling he hadn’t realized he’d missed—the easy excitement of getting to know someone new. He had rolled over onto his side, trying to get some rest, but his mind wouldn’t quiet. No, he had thought to himself, he wasn’t about to start feeling this way about you. Not now, not when he had so much left unsaid, so many wounds still open. But as sleep had slowly begun to pull him under, that feeling—warm and electric—had lingered in the back of his mind, making it hard to ignore the undeniable pull he had felt toward you.

⠀⠀

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the streets as Steve revved the engine of the bright red 5.0 Mustang he’d rented for his trip. He’d opted for the car, not just for the joy of driving it, but because he thought it might impress you. Plus, he couldn’t deny that he wanted to show off a little, especially when he’d be picking you up from university. He’d learned from your conversations how much effort you’d put into your education and your dedication to your work, and he was eager to see where you spent your days.

He parked the Mustang in front of the university building, its polished surface gleaming under the late afternoon sun. His eyes scanned the steps, waiting for you to appear. He’d offered to take you to the wedding, knowing how much it meant to you. He’d also taken the time to ensure he had the right attire, knowing it would be expected of him. He wanted to be the gentleman. But it wasn’t just about impressing your family; it was about showing you that he respected you, that he was willing to step into your world, no matter how different it might be from his.

Soon, you appeared on the steps, a bundle of papers clutched in your hand—ones you needed to submit for your master’s application—as you hurried down toward him. You wore a light sundress that floated around your figure as you walked toward him, and Steve couldn’t help but notice the way the late afternoon sun made you glow. As you approached the car, you glanced at him with a playful grin, your eyes lighting up when you saw the Mustang.

“You sure know how to make an entrance, huh?” you teased, your voice laced with amusement as you slid into the passenger seat.

Steve chuckled, feeling a slight rush of pride. “Figured I’d try to keep up with you,” he said, glancing at you as he started the engine. “Ready for this?”

You nodded, still smiling. “I’ve never been more ready. Just a heads-up, though—my parents might give you the look. You know, the ‘who is this American?’ look.” You winked, but there was an apprehension in your gaze that made Steve feel like maybe you weren’t entirely at ease either.

“Yeah, I’m used to ‘the look.’” He grinned, determined to be charming despite the tension in the air. After all, he wanted to make you feel at ease.

As the two of you drove toward the wedding venue, Steve kept the conversation light, asking about your studies, your thoughts on the wedding, and what your family was like. You talked about your work with passion, but he couldn’t help but notice the slight apprehension in your tone when you mentioned your parents.

When you arrived, Steve was introduced to your family, his hand shaking politely as he greeted your parents with a well-practiced smile. They weren’t unfriendly, but there was a certain coldness to their demeanor, like they were sizing him up, unsure of what to make of him. Steve, ever the gentleman, took it in stride, asking questions and trying his best to blend in. But as the evening wore on, it became clear that you were not quite as comfortable as you let on.

You were whisked away by your family to change into something more formal, leaving Steve to fend for himself in a crowd of unfamiliar faces. He quietly took a seat, his eyes scanning the room for any sign of you.

As the evening wore on, one of your relatives gently but firmly ushered Steve away from the crowd, leading him to a room at the back of the venue where an array of Barjan formal attire awaited him. The family had been insistent on ensuring he was properly dressed for the occasion, a tradition that Steve hadn’t anticipated.

“I guess I’ll have to dress the part,” Steve muttered to himself, his voice carrying a hint of amusement as the servant handed him a traditional Barjan tuxedo. It wasn’t quite what he’d expected, but he knew better than to argue—you had asked for him to be taken care of, and he wanted to honor that.

The outfit was stunning: a sharply tailored jacket with intricate gold embroidery at the collar and cuffs, paired with sleek trousers that tapered perfectly at the ankle. The fabric was a rich, deep shade of midnight blue that shimmered under the light, and the shirt underneath was a crisp white with a soft sheen. He looked at himself in the mirror, admiring the polished shoes and the way the suit fit him perfectly, as though he’d been born to wear it.

Once dressed, Steve rejoined the others in the main hall, where he was greeted by your family, all clad in their formal Barjan attire. The women wore elegant, flowing gowns with intricate beadwork and colorful patterns that reflected the island’s natural beauty. The men wore similarly rich outfits, with patterned vests and gold-accented details that gave them an air of authority and elegance. Steve felt like he’d been transported to another world, one full of tradition, culture, and beauty.

Then, finally, you entered, and Steve’s breath caught in his throat. You looked radiant. Your dress was everything he’d imagined and more: a delicate, embroidered gown with a soft blush hue, its flowing fabric catching the light with every step. The intricate patterns on your dress mirrored the ones in your family’s attire, as though you were all part of one elaborate, elegant tapestry. Your hair was let loose in its natural soft waves, and the sparkle in your eyes made you seem even more ethereal.

You smiled when you saw him, and Steve felt his chest tighten with something he couldn’t quite put into words. “You look… incredible,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your grin widened at the compliment, your eyes twinkling. “Thank you,” you replied, your tone light but warm. 

They shared a quiet moment, their connection palpable. The formal attire, the elegance of the night—it all felt surreal, yet right at the same time.

You shared a quiet moment, the connection between you palpable. The formal attire, the elegance of the night—it all felt surreal, yet right at the same time.

Steve couldn’t keep his eyes off you as the wedding celebration rolled on. You were radiant, your smile lighting up the room, but it wasn’t just your looks that had him captivated. It was the way you carried yourself, effortlessly blending into the crowd while still standing out. He wasn’t used to feeling this way—not amid all the military stuff he had been through, not after everything he’d seen. But with you, it was different.

As you stood by the drinks table, Steve couldn’t resist a smile. “You clean up pretty well,” he said, the words coming out more smoothly than he intended, but it was true. You looked stunning in that dress, your laughter echoing in his chest like a warm melody.

You looked over at him with teasing eyes. “For a guy who usually wears a uniform, you look pretty good in that suit yourself.”

“Well, I’m trying to keep up with you,” he replied, giving you a half-smirk. “You know, trying to make a good impression.”

You leaned closer, your voice dropping just slightly, playful but with that edge of seriousness Steve had come to recognize. “You don’t need to try so hard,” you said, your words almost sounding like a challenge. “You’ve already impressed me.”

Steve’s heart skipped a beat. He didn’t know what it was about you that got under his skin like this, but the way you made him feel was disorienting, like the ground wasn’t quite steady beneath him. It had been a long time since he’d felt this much—anything, really.

“So,” he said, trying to keep his composure, “what’s next? You’ve already got my attention, and I’m starting to think that’s the only thing I’m focused on tonight.”

Your lips curved into a smile, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, I guess maybe you should focus on me a little more,” you hinted, but there was something deeper in your voice, a subtle invitation that made Steve want to step closer. “After all, there’s still plenty of weddings left, Captain.”

Steve blinked at the title, his face softening into a grin. “I’m not used to being called that at a party,” he joked, though his mind was already on the edge, keeping himself from crossing the line. He wasn’t used to this kind of playful banter. In the military, things were direct, and to the point. But with you, it was different. You made him feel… lighter. He’d never thought he’d feel this way, especially not in the middle of something so unfamiliar, like a wedding halfway around the world.

He leaned in slightly, just enough to get your attention. “But I’ll insist, you’ve got me distracted, more than I thought possible.”

You laughed softly, as though you were enjoying the chase, but you stayed close enough that their words felt like a secret between the two of them. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” you replied, your voice carrying the slightest hint of playfulness. “Though, maybe I should keep you on your toes a little longer. Can’t make it too easy for you, Captain.”

Before Steve could respond, your parents arrived, their presence immediately cooling the warm atmosphere between them. The formalities kicked back in, and Steve felt a slight shift in your demeanor. You seemed to retreat into yourself a bit, your expression faltering. Steve’s protective instincts flared, but he knew better than to interrupt family matters.

You tried to give him a reassuring smile as you spoke, but it wasn’t enough. Your parents were speaking to you in hushed tones, their words sharp, but Steve managed to catch bits and pieces with his super-soldier hearing. “You’ll marry him soon. It’s already arranged,” your mother’s voice was firm, but there was an undeniable sense of finality in it.

Your expression darkened as you listened, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress as if trying to hold yourself together. Steve’s heart ached for you. He didn’t know what was entirely being said, but he could see the pain in you eyes. He wasn’t about to let this go unnoticed, not when it was clear you needed support.

Without a second thought, he moved toward you, gently pushing through the crowd to reach your side. As soon as you saw him, you turned away from your parents, your face clearly harboring a mix of frustration and sadness.

“[Y/N]?” Steve called out softly, his voice full of concern as he reached out to you.

You didn’t answer immediately. Instead, you hurried toward the back of the venue, away from the eyes of your family, with Steve following close behind.

“Hey, hey,” he said, catching up with you and gently taking your arm. “What’s going on?”

You looked at him, your eyes wide with emotion. “They… they’ve already arranged my marriage, Steve,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “To someone I don’t even know.”

⠀⠀

The drive back to the beach was quiet. The low rumble of the engine was the only sound between you as Steve kept his eyes on the road, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. The Mustang purred beneath you, but it felt hollow in the silence that stretched out like the ocean you were heading toward. Steve was trying to give you space, but the tension between you was palpable. He knew you were struggling, knew that what had happened at the wedding had cracked something wide open. The weight of it all hung heavily in the air, thick and suffocating.

The soft hum of the ocean was the only sound that accompanied you as you walked along the shore. The sand beneath your feet was cool from the night air, and the sky was dotted with stars, but the world felt heavy around you. You stayed quiet, your steps slow, your mind racing with the events that had just unfolded. Steve kept a careful distance, giving you space, but his mind was working overtime—trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

You reached the spot where you had stood together the day before, where the horizon stretched out before you, untouched and endless. The contrast between that peaceful moment and this was sharp. He could still see the laughter in your eyes, the carefree joy you had shared—but now, your face was clouded with doubt and fear.

Steve paused for a moment, looking at you as you stared out into the dark expanse of the ocean. He wanted to fix this, to do something, anything, to take away the pain that had suddenly overwhelmed you, but he knew this was something only you could express. He was here to listen, to be present, and that was what mattered right now.

You broke the silence, your voice barely audible over the crashing waves. “I thought I had more time, Steve. I thought I had figured things out. I worked so hard for this freedom.” Your voice cracked as you looked at him, tears welling in your eyes. “I thought that if I could prove myself, if I could show them that I could make something of my life… they’d let me go. But now, they’ve taken everything. They hid my passport. They took my money. And now, I have nothing.”

The raw vulnerability in your voice hit him harder than he expected. He stepped closer, his hand reaching out instinctively, resting on your shoulder. You flinched at the touch but didn’t pull away. You needed comfort—he could feel it, even if you weren’t sure you wanted to accept it.

“[Y/N]…” he whispered, his voice full of empathy. He didn’t know what to say, not really. What could he say to make this better? But you kept going, your words tumbling out like a dam had broken.

“I came back thinking everything would be different,” you continued, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “I thought if I came back successful, I could change their minds. But they’ve already planned everything. They’ve arranged my marriage to someone I’ve never met… and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Steve’s heart sank as he heard the desperation in your voice. He wanted to scream, wanted to fight, to tell you that you didn’t deserve this, that you didn’t have to go through this alone. But instead, he just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, offering you the one thing he could give—comfort.

“You’re not alone, sweetheart,” he said quietly, his voice soft but firm. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

You pressed your face against his chest, your tears soaking through his shirt. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what it’s like… to be trapped like this, with no way out. I can’t even run anymore.”

Steve tightened his hold on you, feeling the weight of your pain in his bones. He had faced his fair share of burdens, of being trapped by duty, but this—this was different. You weren’t bound by a war or a mission. You were bound by a life you hadn’t chosen, a future your parents had decided for you.

“You don’t have to do this alone,” he said again, his voice hoarse. “We’ll figure this out. I don’t know how, but I’m not going to let them take you from your life.”

You pulled back slightly, your face streaked with tears, your breath ragged. Your eyes searched his, looking for any sign that he truly meant it. That he wasn’t just saying what he thought you wanted to hear.

“I don’t even know how to fight this anymore,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “They have everything… They control everything. And I just wanted to live my life. I just wanted a chance to choose.”

Steve cupped your face gently in his hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs. “And you will. We’ll find a way. You’re not stuck. I promise you that.”

The tension between you was thick, raw, and emotional. It wasn’t just about the fight against your parents. It was about everything that had been left unsaid, everything that had been building between you. The air between you crackled with unspoken words, a connection that had been forged over the past couple of days but hadn’t fully been explored until now.

“I can’t let you go through this alone,” Steve said, his voice low and steady. “Not now. Not ever.”

You searched his eyes, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. There was a tension in the air—an unspoken connection that hung between you like a spark, waiting for someone to ignite it. Steve wasn’t sure who moved first, but before he could think twice, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was both tender and urgent. The world seemed to fall away in that instant, leaving just the two of you in the quiet of the night, where nothing else mattered.

When you finally pulled apart, your breaths shallow, you looked at him, your eyes searching his face. “I never wanted to drag you into this, Steve,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I’m scared.”

Steve cupped your face gently, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek. “You’re not dragging me into anything, [Y/N]. I want to be here. With you.” His voice was steady, but the emotion behind it was raw and real. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You nodded, your lips trembling as you tried to hold back more tears. “But it’s too much. This wedding, this whole thing… it was supposed to be my escape, and now it feels like my worst nightmare.”

Steve leaned his forehead against yours, the cool air of the night brushing against you. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady the turmoil inside of him. “Look, maybe this doesn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “But you’ve got me, sweetheart. You don’t have to pretend like it doesn’t matter to me. It means something. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes softened at his words, and despite the storm of emotions, you found comfort in his touch, in the sincerity in his eyes. The tension between you was palpable, but in that moment, it wasn’t just about what you had, or the mess of your circumstances. It was about a promise—unspoken but understood—that you would face this together, no matter what it took.

“I can’t promise things will be easy,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But… maybe if you stay, if we try, we could figure this out. Together.”

Steve kissed your forehead softly, brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised. “You’re not alone in this. Not anymore.”

And as you stood there, under the stars, in a moment that felt timeless, Steve knew one thing for sure—whatever came next, he wasn’t going to let you face it without him.

⠀⠀

The air in Steve’s hotel room hit you differently now—quieter, heavier. The events of the day loomed between you both: the wedding and the weight of your revelation. After the drive back to the beach, you couldn’t bring yourself to return home, unwilling to face the reality waiting for you there. Steve had insisted you stay with him for the night—he couldn’t bear the thought of you facing it all alone, especially not now. He didn’t have all the answers, but he knew he couldn’t just do nothing.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Steve rubbed a hand over his face, the lines of his brow furrowed with thought. His mind raced, trying to conjure solutions, ways to help you. He wanted to be your knight in shining armor, but he knew this wasn’t something he could fix with a few comforting words. You were trapped—your passport, your freedom, your entire future—locked away by the very people meant to love and protect you.

“[Y/N], I…” He faltered, his voice low and uncertain. “I’ll figure something out.”

You sat curled up in the armchair by the window, your gaze fixed on the city lights outside, your expression distant and unreadable. For a long time, you didn’t respond. You didn’t need to. Your silence spoke volumes—he could see the pain etched across your face, the hopelessness lingering in your eyes. It wasn’t just exhaustion; it was the crushing realization that this wasn’t merely a fight for freedom. It was a battle for your entire life.

Steve’s eyes lit with sudden resolve, and he turned to face you, an idea solidifying in his mind. “What if I could help you get out of here?” he asked, his voice urgent but careful.

Your gaze shifted to him, and though curiosity flickered across your face, the sadness in your eyes didn’t waver. “What do you mean?”

He ran a hand through his hair, searching for the words. “I can pull some strings. There are people—resources—that could help you. Maybe we can figure out a way to get your passport or get you somewhere safe. You don’t have to stay here. You don’t have to stay trapped.”

You shook your head, the weight of it all settling over you again. “They’ll come for me, Steve. My family…” You trailed off, biting your lip, your voice tinged with despair. “I don’t think I can escape them.”

Steve moved closer, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering determination. “You’re not going through this alone,” he said firmly. “You have more options than you think.”

He hesitated for a moment, glancing at the table where a stack of papers sat, before another idea struck him. “The Mustang,” he said suddenly. “I rented it for this trip, but… I can buy it outright. Sell it after. Use the money to help you get started, to give you a chance until we figure out the rest.”

Your eyes widened as you sat up straighter, shaking your head in protest. “I can’t accept that, Steve. It’s too much. It’s your car. It’s… expensive.”

“It’s just a car,” he said, cutting you off before you could finish. His voice softened as his gaze bore into yours, filled with something raw and unguarded. “You mean so much more to me than a car, sweetheart.”

The words caught in the air between you, and his chest tightened at his own vulnerability. You stared back at him, your expression wavering between gratitude and heartbreak. “I don’t think I can go back to my family,” you whispered. “I don’t think I can survive that again.”

A fierce protectiveness surged through Steve as he stepped closer to you. His hand hovered just above your shoulder before finally resting there gently. “I won’t let them take you,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I swear.”

You lowered your gaze for a moment, overwhelmed, before meeting his eyes once more. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” you said softly.

Without hesitation, Steve reached out, his hands cupping your face with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He tilted your head up, your eyes locking with his. And in that suspended moment, he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss started soft, tentative—a quiet promise in the midst of the chaos surrounding you both. But as it deepened, it carried with it the weight of everything unsaid: the fear, the hope, the connection you had both been too scared to acknowledge until now.

When you finally pulled back, Steve reached into his pocket, his expression momentarily distant. His fingers brushed against the smooth surface of the simple ring he’d carried for years. It had once been meant for Peggy—a relic of a life that never came to be. He had held onto it as a reminder of the past, but now, as he looked at you, he realized something.

Maybe it was time to let go. To stop clinging to a ghost and make space for something new, something real.

You looked up at him, your lips trembling with the beginnings of a smile—a real one, the first he’d seen from you since the day began. “Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what’s coming next, but… I trust you.”

Steve nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips as he sat beside you on the bed. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you close as the city lights shimmered in the distance. For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. The only thing that did was the quiet understanding between you—an unspoken promise to face whatever came next together.

⠀⠀

The following morning, you awoke to the soft sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore. The room was dim, the early light creeping in through the windows. Steve lay beside you, turning his head to look at you still asleep, curled up next to him. Your breathing was steady, peaceful—a stark contrast to the chaos of the night before.

Today was his last day in Barbados.

You hadn’t solved everything, not yet, but you had taken the first step. You had found each other in a moment of vulnerability, and for once, the world outside felt a little less pressing. He smiled softly as he brushed a few strands of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your skin.

As he watched you, his thoughts turned to Peggy—her memory, her spirit—but now it felt like a distant ache, not a tether keeping him bound to the past. Peggy had been a part of his journey, but he had learned it was okay to move on, to let go. The future, whatever it held, didn’t need to be defined by what was lost. It could be shaped by what was right in front of him—you, a new beginning, a chance to build something of your own.

You stirred and slowly opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. A soft smile appeared on your lips as you stretched, still half-asleep.

“Morning,” you whispered, your voice thick with the remnants of sleep.

“Morning,” he replied, his heart light despite everything you both still had to face. “How are you feeling?”

Your eyes searched his for a moment, as if weighing the sincerity in his words. You glanced down, lost in thought, before meeting his gaze again. “I’m… okay,” you said quietly. “It’s a long road ahead, Steve. But I don’t feel so lost anymore.”

He nodded, his hand gently caressing your arm. “We’ll take it one step at a time. I’ll help you with whatever comes next. We’ll figure it out together.”

Your eyes softened, and you gave a small nod. You weren’t fully healed, and there was still a long way to go, but there was hope now. And that was enough.

The sun had fully risen by the time you and Steve were ready to face the world again. After the heartfelt conversation the night before, it felt like progress had been made, but the morning light brought a sobering clarity.

Steve stood at the window of the hotel room, staring out at the endless horizon, the weight of his duty pressing down on him. He had known this moment would come. He had always known that being with you was fleeting—a brief escape from the responsibilities he could never quite shake off. There was a sense of urgency in his chest, a reminder of the mission waiting for him, the world that still needed saving.

You had showered and dressed in silence, your face still pale from the weight of everything you’d gone through. You moved quietly around the room, packing your things as if trying to avoid the inevitable. You hadn’t said it, but Steve could feel your resistance. The distance between you had already started to stretch.

He turned away from the window as you sat on the edge of the bed, looking small in the oversized hotel robe. You weren’t meeting his gaze, and he couldn’t blame you. You had put everything on the line to be with him, only to have to face the reality that a future together wasn’t possible—not now, at least.

“I’ve been thinking,” Steve began, his voice steady but tinged with regret. “I might be able to help you get out of here, help you get your life back. Maybe through SHIELD… I’ll make sure you’re safe, that you have a way out of this. I’ll talk to the director.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You just stared at your hands in your lap, your fingers trembling ever so slightly.

“I don’t want you to do this for me, Steve,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “You have a life… your duty. You don’t have to fix this for me. I’ll find a way out, one way or another. I’ve been running from this for years. I can handle it.”

Steve clenched his jaw, fighting the frustration bubbling up. “You shouldn’t have to,” he said quietly, walking over to where you sat. He crouched in front of you, his hands resting gently on your knees. “You deserve better than this. You deserve more than a life of being pushed around by other people’s choices.”

Your eyes finally met his, and for a moment, you just looked at each other, the weight of the world between you. “I thought… I thought I could have a different life,” you said softly, your voice breaking as tears filled your eyes. “But I don’t know how to get away from this. I don’t know how to get out.”

Steve took a deep breath, his heart aching for you. The situation wasn’t fair, and he couldn’t give you the kind of life you deserved. Not right now.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wedding ring. It was strange how something so tied to the past had suddenly become a symbol of hope for the future. He had carried it for too long, unsure of whether he would ever move on, but now it felt right.

He placed the ring in your hand, his fingers lingering on yours for a moment. “I can’t stay, sweetheart. You know that,” he said softly. “But this… this is for you. It meant a lot to me for a while, and now I want you to have it so you remember that you’re not alone. You’re stronger than you know, and one day, you’ll find your way out of all this. I believe that.”

You held the ring in your hand, your fingers wrapping around it as if it were the last thing tethering you to a future you weren’t sure you could have. Your tears finally spilled over, and you let out a shaky breath.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” you asked, your voice breaking.

Steve nodded, standing up and giving you one last, lingering look. “I have to. There’s a world that still needs saving, and I can’t turn my back on it. But you’ll be okay. I know you will.”

You nodded slowly, wiping your eyes as you looked at him one last time. “I’ll find a way… to make things right. I will.”

The two of you stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of what you couldn’t have settling between you. Steve reached down and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear.

“I’ll never forget you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. “And maybe one day… if the world isn’t too broken, we’ll find a way back to each other.”

You nodded, your heart torn, but you knew the truth of his words. You were both tied to duty, to the things that had shaped your lives. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t remember the good, the fleeting moments of peace you had shared. You would always have those.

“I’ll keep this,” you whispered, holding up the ring. “It’s all I’ll have left of us.”

⠀⠀

You spent your final hours with Steve, the air between you thick with the bittersweetness of time slipping away. Neither of you wanted to waste a single moment.

The day was filled with small, meaningful acts that made it feel as though time had slowed. A quiet breakfast by the beach, just the two of you, the waves gently crashing against the shore. You walked along the sand, hand in hand, the sound of the ocean almost drowning out the rest of the world. Together, you shared memories, laughter, and stories, pretending, if only for a while, that the weight of the world wasn’t pressing down on you.

But no matter how much you tried to savor each second, reality couldn’t be ignored. Time continued to slip through your fingers.

In the afternoon, the two of you returned to the same spot where you had spent your first evening. The sunset painted the sky in vibrant shades of pink, orange, and gold. Steve leaned against a large rock, his arm wrapped around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. Both of you watched the fading light in silence—a silence that was comfortable but heavy with unspoken words.

“I wish we had more time,” you murmured, breaking the stillness. Turning your face toward him, your eyes met his, reflecting the same sorrow you knew he felt.

“I wish I could give it to you,” he replied, his voice low and steady. He reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin as if memorizing the sensation, knowing it might be the last time. “But you’re strong. You’ll be okay. You’ve already come so far.”

You gave him a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “What about you, Steve? Will you be okay?”

He hesitated, his answer caught somewhere between honesty and reassurance. He couldn’t promise you he’d be okay, not with everything pulling him in so many directions. But he knew one thing for certain: this day, this moment, would stay with him forever. “I think I will,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You sat together in silence again, watching the sunset, neither of you ready to let the moment go.

As the evening deepened, you returned to the hotel together. Your movements were slower now, reluctant, each step bringing you closer to the inevitable parting. Steve could feel it too, the ache of what was to come. It hurt more than either of you had expected.

Before he left the room, you handed him something—a small, folded piece of paper. He opened it, revealing a drawing of a Mustang, your version of the car he had rented. At the bottom, you had written, “For when you’re far away.”

He looked at you, his chest tightening with emotion. The words he wanted to say caught in his throat. Instead, he stepped forward and pulled you into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around you as if he could hold on forever. He kissed the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair, committing it to memory.

“You’ll always have me in your heart,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. You nodded against him, your tears threatening to fall as you held onto him, unwilling to let go.

“And you’ll always have me, Steve. No matter where you are.”

⠀⠀

Steve’s boots clicked against the cold floor of the Avengers compound as he entered, the familiar hum of the place only adds to the weight in his chest. He’d just come back from his brief time away, a time he wasn’t sure how to summarize. It had been a whirlwind, a mixture of emotions he hadn’t expected to feel so deeply. But this sudden vacation had successfully changed him.

As he stepped into the common room, he saw Tony lounging on the couch, his eyes glued to a screen. The moment Steve walked in, Tony looked up with a grin, clearly expecting the usual sarcastic quip.

“So, Cap, how was your vacation?” Tony asked, casually tossing a glance at him.

Steve set down his duffel bag and leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t quite know how to explain what he’d experienced, what he’d left behind. The memories of you lingered in his mind, and they felt like a weight he wasn’t sure how to carry.

“It was… well, it really helped me, Tony,” Steve said quietly, his voice steady, though there was an undercurrent of something deeper there, something he hadn’t figured out how to unpack yet. He glanced out the window for a moment, as though the ocean and the memories of the beach could somehow soothe him. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that time until it was over.”

Tony raised an eyebrow, always quick to read between the lines. But he didn’t push; instead, he took a sip from his glass and leaned back, knowing when not to ask further questions. “Good to hear, Cap. We all need a break now and then.”

Steve nodded, though he didn’t answer immediately. His thoughts drifted back to the last day he had spent with you—how the two of you had spent hours walking along the beach, hand in hand, knowing it was the end of something beautiful but fleeting. He remembered the warmth of the sun on his face, the way your smile had both broken his heart and healed it at the same time. What hit him hardest, though, was the way you had parted. There had been no easy goodbye, no promise that somehow, someway, you would find a way to be together. Just the certainty that life, as it always did, would pull you both in different directions.

He couldn’t shake the thought of that damn Mustang. The one he had rented for you, the symbol of the escape you had needed so badly. You had drawn it for him—your version of it, something small, something tender, that he would hold onto forever. The image of your face, so full of determination and quiet sorrow, was etched in his mind, a constant reminder.

And yet, he knew he had to leave. He couldn’t stay. Duty was calling, and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t just throw everything away. You had your own future now, one you had fought so hard to build. And he had his—one that couldn’t afford distractions, no matter how deep the feelings had run.

Tony watched Steve, noticing the faraway look in his eyes. “You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?” he asked casually.

Steve blinked, shaking himself from his thoughts. He hadn’t expected Tony to guess it so quickly, but then again, Tony always had a way of cutting through the bullshit. He didn’t know how to explain what had happened with you, what it had meant to each other. And he didn’t want to, not yet.

“I am,” Steve admitted softly. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s going to be okay, Tony. I made sure of it.” His voice was low, steady with conviction, but there was something else there—a tinge of regret that he couldn’t quite shake.

Tony studied him for a moment. “That’s good, Cap. But you don’t have to keep it all together all the time, you know? It’s okay to feel like you don’t have all the answers.”

Steve chuckled softly, the humor in his voice tinged with melancholy. “I’m still figuring that out.”

Steve had made sure you left before him and was taken care of before his departure. He had called in every favor, using his influence and SHIELD’s resources to ensure you could leave your old life behind and start fresh. After everything that happened, you deserved a chance at freedom. The control your parents had over your life, the arranged marriage—they had weighed so heavily on your shoulders for so long. But now, with Steve’s help, you were free.

With your new identity, a fresh passport, and a financial cushion, you had the chance to build your future on your own terms. Steve knew you had the strength to make something of yourself, but it wouldn’t be easy. He’d made sure you had the right people backing you, a network of allies who could help you navigate your new life, far from the constraints of your family’s expectations.

You were enrolling in a prestigious university overseas, something you had always dreamed of but never had the opportunity to do before. The freedom you had fought for was finally within reach. Your family would never understand, but you didn’t care anymore. You weren’t the person they had tried to mold you into. You had become your own woman.

But leaving wasn’t simple. The scars of your past, your family’s rejection, and the haunting memories of the arranged marriage still lingered. You had to rebuild yourself from the ground up, and Steve had been there for you every step of the way, even from afar, even if you didn’t directly know it. He had given up a part of himself—his heart, his peace of mind—just to make sure you were safe and had a future. He had set things in motion to ensure you had a chance to be the person you wanted to be, even if it meant not being able to stay in your life.

He had watched you go, knowing that despite everything you shared, you could never be together. You were on your own now, and Steve had to let you go. His duty, his responsibilities, and the life he led as Captain America had always come first. But that didn’t stop him from caring for you, or from wondering what might have been, if only circumstances were different.

As the plane took off, you looked out the window, leaving behind the life that had almost consumed you. Steve’s name echoed in your heart, but you knew you couldn’t look back. You had to keep moving forward. You had your own life to live now, and you would make it count. For him.

You were heading down a different path now, one of independence, of freedom. He had made sure you had the support you needed, and as much as he wished things had turned out differently, he knew he had to let you go.

⠀⠀

Later, as Steve stood in the hallway, his hand on the door to his room, he took one last deep breath. He thought of you, of the way your eyes had sparkled in the fading light of the sun, of the way your smile had broken his heart. He thought of the fading tattoo, the Mustang, and the promise of freedom you now had, and the one thing he had given you—something simple but meaningful: a wedding ring.

It wasn’t his first choice. It wasn’t even his second. It was the one he should’ve given Peggy, the one he carried with him for years as a reminder of what could have been. But now, it had found its way to you—the woman who had made him feel something more than duty, more than responsibility. He couldn’t keep carrying it, couldn’t keep living in the shadow of his past. He had to let go.

The ring was a relic. It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that, for once, he had lived in the moment.

For Steve, it was the kind of love that burned brightly—intense, fleeting, and beautiful. Like an American wedding, it brimmed with promise, a celebration of what could have been. But some things, no matter how luminous, weren’t meant to endure. And maybe that was okay. Because even in its brevity, it left something lasting—a healing fragment of you, etched into his once broken heart, immune to the passage of time.

And like an American divorce, it became a love story confined to memories—bittersweet and unfinished. You both knew it could never be more, but the echoes of it lingered, quietly shaping the man he would become.

⠀⠀

⠀⠀

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[ramp-it-up]

That Face

Summary: You get drunk and tell Bucky exactly what you want to do to that face.

Pairing: Beefy Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 1.9 K

A/N: You can read this as a companion piece to Red Wings.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT! Read at your own risk; curate your own experience. More angst on the part of the reader. Sweet Bucky fluff. Jealousy, excessive drinking, intoxication, drunken confessions, face riding, fingering, extreme oral sex (f receiving) anal play, praise kink, allusion to anal sex. Not Beta’d. All errors my own. 

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Bucky was holding you close to him, and it should have been romantic, but it wasn’t.

You were shit faced, and practically falling down with every step.

“Careful Doll, I’m gonna have to carry you home.”

After just six months of dating, you’d moved in with him, your relationship barreling along with breakneck speed, but who wouldn’t fall in love with Bucky?

Who wasn’t still in love with Bucky?

You stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, half a block from your brownstone.

“That sounds hot, Bucky, but I’m pissed…”

“Yeah, I know…”

“No, I’m mad.”

You stomped your foot and wobbled, until Bucky’s hands steadied you again. Bucky bent down and looked you in the eyes.

“You good, Doll?”

His sky blue eyes looked sincere, but jealousy and alcohol wouldn’t let you accept that.

“No! This was supposed to be our night to fuck and have a romantic dinner. You’ve been gone for three weeks. Three weeks, James!”

Bucky looked contrite, but then again there were four of him weaving in front of you right now, so you couldn’t be sure.

“Sorry, Baby. Didn’t know the guys would be in town. It’s my crew.”

“I can take your army buddies, but her. She’s a bitch!”

“Wow. Whoa whoa whoa. You know I don’t like anyone calling women bitches. Even you.”

Bucky straightened up and the stern look he gave you sent a thrill through you, but you weren’t done.

“She still wants you, Bucky. Sharon is a slut. And you always say you love when I’m a slut for your cock.”

Bucky looked around as you started crying and people walking by avoided the scene.

“I don’t want Sharon, Doll. I want you.”

Bucky looked down at you, eyes sparkling with amusement at your jealousy. Even his voice was smiling. It made you madder and you stumbled as you advanced on him, bucking up to the man who was a foot taller than you.

“Look at that fucking face.”

You reached up and took his chin between your fingers.

“No one gets to ride this dimple but me!”

This time Bucky didn’t care about who heard, you’d peaked his interest. His eyebrow shot up.

Even though drunk, you read his expression.

“Yep!”

You nodded and it threw you off balance, but luckily Bucky was there.

“Betcha didn’t know that I touch myself to the memories of the feeling of that chin between my legs. Did it the entire time you were gone. That cock is something else Bucky, but that face. I just want to ride it into the sunset….”

This was new information to Bucky. You seemed to love when he ate you out, but you were always hesitant to ride his face. He licked his lips as he thought of you pleasuring yourself to the thought of his face.

Then he grinned.

You read him again.

“Oh no! No no no. You think you got me. But you said you were mine…”

Bucky leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“I am yours, Doll.”

“So she can’t ride your face?”

Bucky slowly shook his head.

“No, only you.”

You sighed and sagged into his arm.

“Good, because I-“

And that was the last thing you remembered from that night.

You woke up the next morning, head pounding. You looked around, grateful to be in your bed. And grateful for your boyfriend, who’d left a bottle of water and some aspirin on the bedside table.

You could hear Bucky puttering around in the kitchen but you weren’t quite ready to eat.

You eagerly took the pills and drank the bottle down. Then, you turned on the shower as you brushed your teeth.

You reflected on the gathering at The Howling Commando, the neighborhood bar so familiar to you as you met Bucky’s friends. Which included Sharon Carter.

Bucky’s ex.

“Bucky’s just being nice, y’know?”

Steve tried to reassure you as she and Bucky caught up in the corner. You nodded back at Steve, but when Bucky smiled at Sharon was when you ordered your first shot of Jameson’s.

You showered as you tried to remember the rest of the night. But all you could remember was Bucky’s sweet face. You wrapped up in a towel and sat on the bed as you thought of how sweet Bucky was. He was so cute. That face.

That face.

“Shit!”

Your head fell into your hands as you remembered what happened the night before.

“What’s wrong, Doll?”

You looked up and your heart dropped.

Bucky was clad in only sleep pants and you could tell that there was nothing underneath.

You licked your lips, not bothering to hide your stare. Bucky came and sat down on the bed.

“See something you like, Doll?”

“Morning.”

“G’morning Sunshine..”

Bucky leaned down and kissed you on the cheek, chaste, despite the look in his eye. Your eyes fell to his lips. And lower.

Bucky licked his lips and rubbed his chin.

“You didn’t answer my question, Doll.”

Bucky’s mouth was an inch from yours. He reached for your towel and hooked his finger at the makeshift knot, causing his fingernail to brush your nipple.

“Don’t tease me Bucky…”

“I should say the same to you, Doll. You told me all the things you wanted to do to my face and then passed out.”

“James! I was drunk!”

“They say we are the most honest when we’re drunk.”

Bucky kissed you and then looked into your eyes.

“D’you believe that I don’t care about Sharon?”

You liked into his true blue eyes and you knew he wasn’t lying.

“I believe you. I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you too, Doll.”

You reached up and caressed his lips and chin.

“Gotta admit. This face is pretty irresistible.”

Bucky grinned and you leaned in for a kiss and climbed on his lap, grinding as he took your towel off.

“Been so long, Bucky.”

Bucky’s hands caressed you as he leaned back and let you have your way.

You made your way down his body, reacquainting yourself with his form with your lips, tongue, and fingers. He lifted his hips as you pulled down his pajama pants, lightly scratching his thighs on the way down.

“God I missed you so much, Doll. Spent all last night just waiting until we could get home. Wanted to lose myself in you.”

You had Bucky in your hand, sitting on his legs as you stroked his half-hard cock to full life.

“M’sorry Babe. How can I make it up to you?”

You looked up at him, ready to suck his soul out.

“Come up here and ride this irresistible face.”

You gasped as Bucky pulled you up his body until you were kneeling over him.

“There she is.”

Bucky’s fingers helped to separate your lips as he breathed hot breath into your cunt.

“So fucking wet for me.”

And then he went to work on licking into your tangy goodness.

“So good. Such a good girl for me. Such a good pussy.”

Bucky sat you down and suckled your clit, pulling on it like it was gum, stretching it and your soul out for the world (inside your bedroom) to see. He was kneading your breasts and pulling your nipples, serving to make you wetter and him messier.

But it was only just beginning as you started gyrating on his chin.

Bucky smacked your ass and pushed you over on your hands and knees again.

“That’s a girl. Bounce on my tongue.”

You did as you were told, feeling Bucky’s chin in your vagina each time you bounced on his tongue.

“Smear that shit all over my fuckin face Doll. You know you want to.”

Bucky took your ass in his hands and then started moving you back and forth on his face. You were overwhelmed with numerous sensations as his lips, tongue and chin, covered with short facial hair, destroyed your soul.

“Now sit up and fuck this face, Doll. Please. ”

You peered down at his bright blue eyes as his fingertips grazed your stomach. You obeyed him as you pulled his hair and took your throne, his thick, wide tongue spearing into you as you fucked his face.

His chin was now grazing your puckered hole, and you moaned as the scruffy dimpled part of him made you tremble.

“J-James…”

Bucky spread your cheeks and moved his tongue so that it could invade your inmost parts. He licked you from ass to clit and your legs started trembling.

You leaned back over and bounced in his tongue again, holding your breasts with one hand as you braced against the wall with the other.

Bucky’s hand snaked around to flick your clit as you gasped and fully sat on his face as his tongue speared into you, twisting and curling, not as all consuming as his cock, but reaching that special spot inside you nonetheless.

You gasped and sat back, hand on his sternum as you rolled your hips into his face.

“Oh. Ohhhh, oh Jamesssss.”

You whimpered, and your crying-like noises as you moved told him how it felt.

“So… fuck it feels so good…

You were grabbing his hair as he craned his neck upward to look at you.

Bucky growled into your cunt then lifted you upright again, his thumb slipping into your ass. This caused a gush of your fluids into his mouth and he started moaning.

“Mmmmmm. Mmhmmmm!”

“Oahhhh oh ahhh.”

Bucky was still breaching your ass as his tongue sped up impossibly and his lips suckled your clit intermittently.

“More… please!”

You were seeing stars as you reached back and pushed Bucky’s thumb in to the hilt.

Bucky moaned as you started bouncing again. His hand was fucking your ass as you rode his face.

“Please please please…”

“Hmmph… yesssss.”

Bucky spoke into your cunt as you started to reach your crescendo. He could taste your orgasm coming before it happened. Everything sped up.

“Oh! Oh! Oh!”

“Ummmmmm!”

Bucky was in heaven as you continued to gush into his mouth.

You came with a scream as Bucky lapped you all up.

“Unnnnh!”

Bucky pulsed precum on his stomach as you came on his face.

“Unh ahhhh.

“So pretty, Doll. Stay right here.”

Bucky kissed your lips as you quivered in front of him.

“Want this ass. Gonna give it to me?”

“Bucky…”

“She’s ready for me now.”

Bucky’s finger found that hole again.

“Gonna make you feel real good.”

You whimpered as Bucky spit on his fingers and manipulated two of them inside you.

He gave your clit a peck with his lips and you jumped.

“Nice and loose for me.”

You looked down on him adoringly and carded your fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp. He moaned.

“Please Doll. But only if you want that too. I need you. You’re my best girl. My good girl.”

You looked back, his cock jumping on his abs, sticky with his pre cum. You shuddered at his praise and at the thought of him inside that hole. But as Bucky probed and kissed you further, you knew you wanted it.

You didn’t need to look back down to know that Bucky was buried in your cunt again, bringing you to another peak. Instead, your head lolled back on your shoulders as you rode Bucky’s mouth again.

“Anything! Anything you want, Bucky…I want it too! Ah…”

You just couldn’t resist that face.

[cece693]

No (Steve Rogers x GN! Reader)

I haven't been focusing on my asks (and I know I should) but this was just something I had to write about. Most Steve fics have a romantic plot, but what if I want to change that? No, I'm not killing anybody but saying no to marriage might be in Steve's book.

Summary: You loved Steve, but you weren't ready to make the big step in marrying him. Others don't understand or merely refuse to accept your reasoning.

tags: marriage proposal gone wrong, reader has their reasons, hurt Steve, Avengers meddling in things

The cozy glow of the living room bathed everything in warm hues, as if the universe itself cradled this moment. Steve Rogers stood before me, larger than life yet heartbreakingly human in the way he looked at me—with unyielding love that made my chest tighten. My heart thundered as he sank to one knee, his golden hair catching the light like a halo. His hand trembled slightly as he produced a small black box.

His smile was tender, adoring—the kind of smile you’d only see in fairy tales and classic romances.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he began, his voice steady but soft. “These past three years have been the best of my life, and that’s saying something for someone who’s lived as long as I have. You’ve given me a reason to keep going when everything else had faded. I love you. Will you do me the honor of becoming mine?”

The room fell silent. Too silent.

I didn’t need to turn around to know the Avengers were crowded against the door, holding their breath. My eyes dropped to the ring—a delicate, beautiful thing. So perfectly Steve. I could imagine him painstakingly choosing it, probably consulting Nat or Sam for advice. It was perfect. He was perfect.

And yet…

“Steve,” I whispered, my voice trembling as I struggled to form words. “I…I can’t.”

The silence turned suffocating. His smile faltered, and his bright blue eyes searched mine as though I’d just spoken a foreign language. “What?”

“I can’t say yes,” I said softly, my throat tightening around the words.

Before I could even attempt to explain, the door burst open, and the Avengers stormed in like a tidal wave of disbelief and judgment.

“Are you kidding me?” Tony’s voice was sharp, incredulous. “You rejected Steve Rogers? Captain America? What is wrong with you?”

“It’s not—” I tried, but Natasha’s icy glare stopped me in my tracks. Her expression was devoid of emotion, but the disappointment in her eyes cut deeper than words ever could. Even Thor, lovable Thor stood with his arms crossed, his brows furrowed, as though I’d committed some unspeakable crime.

“How could you?” Clint’s voice rang out next, loud and accusatory. “Do you even realize what it took for him to plan this? The time, the effort, the heart—and you just said no?”

“I didn’t mean to—” My voice broke, but they weren’t listening. Even Sam shook his head, muttering something about how I didn’t deserve Steve. I turned to him, desperate for support, for something. But Steve stayed silent. His shoulders slumped, his head bowed, his expression unreadable. He didn’t stop them. He didn’t defend me.

The weight of it all became too much.

“Enough!” I shouted, my voice cracking as I stood. The room fell silent, all eyes on me, but I didn’t care. Tears burned in my eyes as I glared at them. “You didn’t even let me explain! You’re all so quick to judge, to attack me, without even asking why I said no. Do you think I don’t love him? That I don’t care about him? You’re wrong.”

I turned on my heel, my voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “I said no because I’m not ready—not because I don’t love him, but because I do. But clearly, none of you care to understand that.”

Without another word, I stormed out of the room, ignoring their calls after me. My chest felt like it was caving in, the weight of their disappointment and Steve’s silence pressing down on me until I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know where I was going, but I needed to get away.

Hours later, I sat on a bench at the edge of a quiet park, the cold night air biting at my skin. My hands were trembling, and I didn’t know if it was from the chill or the lingering hurt.

“Mind if I sit?”

I looked up to see Steve standing there, his expression soft but cautious. His voice was gentle, careful, as if he were afraid of saying the wrong thing. I nodded wordlessly, and he took a seat beside me. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching between us. The stillness gnawed at me until I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why are you here, Steve?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

“To listen,” he said simply. His blue eyes, tired but sincere, locked onto mine. “I should’ve done that earlier.”

I swallowed hard, my chest tightening again. “You didn’t stop them,” I said, my voice breaking slightly. “You let them say all those horrible things about me, and you didn’t stop them.”

His face fell, and he reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing his hand over mine. “I know,” he said softly. “And I'm sorry. I froze. I didn’t know how to handle it. But I don’t blame you for saying no. I could never blame you for that. I just…I was surprised.”

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I shook my head. “I didn’t say no because I don’t love you, Steve. I love you so much that it hurts. You’re everything, Steve. You’re kind and patient and wonderful. But this…this is forever. And I need to know I’m the best version of myself before I make that promise to you.”

His eyes softened, though the pain lingered in the corners. “I thought…after everything we’ve been through—”

“Exactly,” I cut him off gently, my voice breaking. “After everything we’ve been through, I don’t want to rush into this and risk us falling apart. I want us to last, Steve. And I need to work through my own fears and doubts to make sure I’m ready for that kind of commitment.”

His hand tightened around mine, grounding me. “Thank you for explaining things. And I respect your decision; I'll wait, as long as it takes, until you're ready to say yes."

I looked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes breaking through the wall of guilt and fear I’d built around myself. “You’re not mad?”

Steve shook his head, offering me a small, tender smile. “No. I love you too much to be mad. I just…I needed to understand. And now I do.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks, and I leaned into him, letting him wrap his arms around me. For the first time that night, I felt like I could breathe again.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “For listening. For understanding.”

“Always.”

[reallyunluckyrunaway]

haha, guilty..

[wandascrush]

Just let me in

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader, Sharon Carter x Fem!reader

A/N: Pt. 2 of Let The Light In

Warnings: Angst, fluff, more angst, kissing, arguments, ANGST

Song: Let The Light In- Lana Del Rey

Her car hummed to a start, sputtering and coughing before taking off down the long road to San Francisco- 42 hours to be exact. The city seemed emptier without her, the familiar sights of San Francisco now tainted with bittersweet memories of what used to be. Nat was too homesick to eat, drink, even sleep. But she wasn’t homesick for San Francisco, or the minimalistic home she rented in Washington - she was homesick for you. Almost two days later she was standing at your front door in the pouring rain, shaking and shivering. This was also the last moment she could imagine what your reaction would be, before reality hit her.

Observant eyes noticed all the new changes to the home, brighter and prettier without Natasha in it. And she saw a new car in the driveway, shiny and classic. Not your style at all. 

    Meanwhile, you were inside cooking a warm meal for the pretty agent, Sharon, if you remembered correctly, that was sitting on your couch. She was a beautiful blonde in a form fitting black dress with nude heels, and some files waiting  to go over with you. You both were adults, and you knew this was more than just a debrief when she brought wine and red lipstick that would look better on your lips. Sharon was different from Nat, just as confident, but soft- warm…maybe kind was the word you were looking for. You missed that. 

 It'd been nearly a year since Natasha left. The memory of that night still haunts you—the door slamming, her duffle bag slung over her shoulder, the way she couldn't even look at you as she walked away. The way you cried and begged her to change for months, asked her to stay for you. Asked why you weren’t enough. That was the night you heard one of the most painful words echo from the woman that had your heart in her hands, “Sometimes you just aren’t enough. Maybe you never were, Y/N.” And in that moment you knew you had to let her go. Months were spent wondering what you did wrong, how things had unraveled so quickly after what you thought was a strong, loving relationship. 

But time heals all wounds, as they say. Slowly, you started to move on. Friends encouraged you to get back out there, to rediscover yourself, and eventually, you took Sharon up on her offer for a “debrief.” The aroma of the lasagna you've prepared fills the air, mingling with the faint sound of jazz playing in the background. You laugh together, eat, and hardly remember the files sitting untouched in the coffee table. 

Outside, hidden by the shadows of the night, Natasha sat on your front doorstep, waiting for you to open the door, or to gather the courage to knock. As the Black Widow stood at the door, fist raised, ready to knock, something stops her. Through the window, she catches sight of you. 

You look radiant, a soft smile on your face as you pour a glass of wine for Sharon. Maybe her first, maybe her third. You two had lost count. The warmth of your home, the way you look at the beautiful blonde with your bright eyes crinkling at the ends, laughing till a tear rolled down your cheek—it hits Natasha like a punch to the gut. And some sick, punishing part of herself can't tear her big green eyes away from the scene, the sight of you happy and moving on. Nothing like the turmoil she's been living in.

 Her heart aches as she watches you lean closer to Sharon, your laughter reaching her ears even from outside. And at that moment, Natasha, once affectionately called “Natty,”  knows she has no right to disrupt your happiness. As Sharon leans in to kiss you, you catch a glimpse of movement outside the window. For a brief second, you think you see someone familiar, like that familiar head of red hair that could bring you to your knees. But then it's gone. You shake your head, dismissing it as a trick of the light or your mind playing games. Tonight, you're happy, and that’s all you need. 

Natasha drives away, the city lights blurring into streaks as tears well up in her eyes. 

When soft, warm morning light hits you the next morning and the weight of Sharon’s arm is wrapped around your bare waist, you feel good. Really good. Finally. As you make the pretty blonde asleep in your bed a fresh cup of coffee and open your front door to get the mail, you see a wet bouquet of flowers on the floor.

 A simple note attached reads, “Did I lose you forever?” 

[cxtwomcn]

Another thing that really bothers me: the way the mcu treats Natasha Romanoff & Sharon Carter should be a crime.

They cut Natasha out of absolutely everything (like in What If...?), and I don’t even need to mention how terrible Sharon is treated. She’s such an important character in the comics, but they turned her into a villain because of a ship and their inability to properly handle her character.

[burningfudge]

captain america vol 5 post-death of captain america is so funny because it’s basically:

tony: it’s 😭 my 😭 fault 😭 steve’s 😭 dead 😭

sharon: i 😭 killed 😭 steve 😭 while 😭 brainwashed 😭 and 😭 im 😭 pregnant 😭 with 😭 his 😭 baby 😭

bucky & natasha: 👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻🥰❤️

sam:🧍🏾‍♂️

[cinnamon-ginger]

Very sorry to the Maria fans, and the Sharon fans, and the Natash fans (@ me) from the AOS fandom

I’m so scared tbh don’t fucking touch Daisy