#captain steve

[chaosangelmp3]

winter soldier au but Different

[theladycarpathia]

The Ballad of Starcourt

Hellcheer AU prompt: In space

“Are you taking passengers?”

Chrissy jerks her head up. She wasn’t expecting anyone to ask her anything, not when Robin is the one to the front of the ship, twirling her parasol, and chatting to anyone who might be wandering by looking for safe passage. They’ve been left behind to watch the ship and pull in anyone able to pay a fee to go as far as Auburn. They’d been hired on Persephone to transport some medical goods to one of the outer rim planets and everyone else went off on the buggy to make the delivery. An actual honest job that will get them paid without being shot at. A rarity for the crew of Starcourt.

“We are,” she says, taking in the long, lean gentleman in front of her, guitar case strapped to his back. His trousers are dusty at the hems, practically standard for the outskirts of Hess. It’s not the worst of the outer rim planets but it’s far from the civilized Alliance ruled planet of Obsidian where Chrissy was born. He’s not from one of the inner rim planets, she’d bet money on it. He has dirt underneath his fingernails, thick silver rings on every long finger. His boots are hefty and black, the solid kind that you can walk an entire planet in. They’re unattractive as hell but they last. His long, dark coat looks like a cheaper version of the one Steve favors. There’s patches sewn into it, careful stitching where there were once rips. All of this says someone without any consistent income who takes care of what they have.

“Do you charge much?” he asks anxiously, taking in the dark mass of Starcourt behind her. Chrissy wonders if he just sees a clunky and outdated transport ship, like everyone else.

She remembers standing in front of the ship, clutching her suitcase, and wondering if answering an ad on the cortex was perhaps the dumbest thing she’d ever done. Judging by the ship’s appearance, she was about to be kidnapped and fed to Reavers.

She’d been wrong, thankfully. In the five months since she joined their crew, the chaotic and noisy ship has become her home. She knows the hiss of the kettle in the morning, the best seat at the dining table, every inch of the shuttle that is now her’s. She appreciates that Steve offered it to her, instead of one of the crew bunks. It offers her a bit of space and quiet from everyone else when she needs it. She’s new to the ship and the rest of the crew have such a tight bond that occasionally she feels a little like she’s intruding. Nancy and Jonathan are a couple, and Steve and Robin have been best friends since forever. They even all come from the same planet and her limited time aboard just doesn't feel like they can compare.

“We’re reasonably priced,” she says, because she’s already seen the fraying of his clothes, the angles of his cheekbones. “And my captain might be amenable if you can offer other payment. We had someone fix our microwave for us once so he could get to Crow.”

“I’m good at wiring and stuff,” the man says, looking hopeful. “If that helps.”

Chrissy thinks wryly to the flickering lights in the galley, the hissing of the radio and that their video occasionally flickers green. Somehow she thinks that Steve won’t mind. Robin spends so long making sure that the engine keeps running that she doesn’t have time for the smaller issues.

“It helps,” she says, and watches the dimples appear in his cheeks.

Oh. That also helps.

“I’m Eddie,” he says, offering her a hand. “I need to get to Sierra and I’m kind of broke.”

“We’re so broke that we take payment in baked bread and menial labor,” Chrissy says frankly. Their life aboard Starcourt is far from plush. They eat cheap noodles more often than not, and take illegal jobs because they pay. Some times are better than others, and all the crew do get paid, but the past few months have been tough. Too many parts that needed fixing in one go and if they get grounded, they’re done for. So the parts had to be fixed and they all just made do. “I’m Chrissy. I’m the medic here.” To her interest, he doesn’t do that usual thing people do when they find out that she’s the medic – which is flick their eyes doubtfully up and down her tiny frame. But she was trained at the best school on Obsidian, under Dr Kelly herself and she’s more than capable.

She could have had a glittering career on Obsidian. Everyone said so.

Right up until they didn’t. When the possibility of passage off the planet - and a paying job - presented itself, she’d taken it. And Steve had merely offered her a shuttle to have as her own space, and a fairly well stocked med-bay, and asked no questions about her former life. She’s so grateful for that, and she’ll patch up the crew until the time that someone asks her to leave.

“Nice to meet you, Chrissy,” he says, and his fingers linger a little on hers. “How is a medic required on a transport ship?”

“You’d be surprised,” Robin interrupts, and Chrissy looks past Eddie’s shoulder to see the small group of people standing behind their engineer.

Robin never looks like an engineer, not with her freckled face and wavy brown hair. But Chrissy learned very quickly that Robin does three things very well - talk very fast, make the best stew out of not many ingredients, and fix any spaceship you could mention.

“We have more guests,” Robin says, catching the direction of Chrissy’s eyes. If she thinks that Chrissy found an odd outsider, then Robin’s group is full of the strangest individuals she’s ever seen. There’s two guys about Chrissy’s age: one with brown hair and a smirk that she doesn’t like. The other one with long dark hair is wearing a strange green jacket and a baseball cap. Next to him is an older gentleman, with glasses and a curious expression as he stares up at the very top of Starcourt. He has curls and a friendly face, a backpack dangling from one wrist.

Behind them is another man her own age with a black leather jacket and the most piercing blue eyes that Chrissy’s ever seen. There are two girls standing with him, one with red pigtails and a furious expression and a dark-haired girl with wide, dark eyes.

“Right,” Chrissy says, thrown. “That’s a lot. How did you manage that?”

“I can talk to people,” Robin says, which is true so long as they’re not cute girls. It certainly explains how they ended up with these random guys and two kids. “People can be persuaded if they’re looking for cheap passage.”

“Can they be persuaded to not murder us in our beds?” Chrissy asks, because she has doubts about that. The blonde definitely looks like he might rob you without any issues, and even the two girls look like they might be capable of stabbing someone, given the right circumstances.

There’s a distant familiar rumble and the bright yellow buggy they use for short journeys appears, weaving its way through the crowds of people. Jonathan sits at the front, Steve and Nancy perched behind.

“Thank God,” Robin sighs, raising an arm to wave at them. “I hate doing the welcome speech.”

When the buggy pulls to a halt, Chrissy can see Steve’s eyes flick over their strange assortment of potential customers. None of them look like much but Steve is usually flexible so long as they can pay. And they obey his strict rules. Starcourt is his ship and he doesn’t make exceptions.

“Morning,” Steve says easily, climbing down from the buggy. He looks impressive, in his waistcoat and dramatic coat, hair swept back from his face by the wind. Chrissy sees both of the teen girls look a little stunned, because Steve has that effect on people. No one carries off ‘daring ship captain’ like Steve Harrington.

She doesn’t know much about their illustrious leader, only what she’s been told or can infer. He comes from money - fact. A lot of money - also fact. He has a bad relationship with his parents - hinted at by the stiff way he mentions his home world and upbringing. He’s been a playboy and used to bed a lot of people - she’s been told this by just about everyone.

What she doesn’t know is what causes the only son and heir of one of the richest families in the whole ‘verse to buy a hunk of junk like Starcourt, hire a crew, and disappear into the stars.

Given her own secrets, she’s not about to ask.

“I’m the captain and I have a few rules if you wish to use my ship to get where you need to go,” Steve says frankly to the group. “You obey the crew if they tell you something, you do not wander around the ship, you stay in the communal areas unless told otherwise and I do not accept anything illegal, explosive, or generally hallucinogenic aboard. Understood?”

There’s a general mumbling but the guy with the long hair looks a little sheepish. He raises a hand and Steve sighs.

“Nancy will check anything you may have, just in case,” he says, waving a hand and Nancy hops off the back of the buggy. Jonathan shoots off, hitting the ramp and climbing back onto Starcourt. Chrissy doesn’t miss the fact that there are new boxes on the back. They must have gotten another job while they were out.

“What is it now?” Chrissy asks quietly, once Nancy has commanded the attention of the passengers, fully intent on peering into their bags. Steve follows the line of her eyes to the vanishing buggy as it disappears into the depths of Starcourt.

“Oh,” he says flatly, running a hand through his hair. He looks stressed more and more these days, trying to keep them all afloat. Times are hard and sometimes Chrissy worries how long they can keep flying. She’s not sure what she’ll do if they get stranded on some planet and have to go their separate ways.

“Potato vodka,” Steve explains. “From Murray. We don’t get paid much to deliver it but I figure it helps.”

“Are we in trouble again?” Chrissy asks, because she thought maybe they were through the worst. With Starcourt having had a flurry of emergency fixes, they’d all hoped that they’d finally be able to stop spending every spare coin they had on keeping them going.

“Robin said we need a new…I don’t know, some doodad or we’ll break down in the middle of space,” Steve continues, a worried line appearing in his brow. No one ever doubts Robin when it comes to the workings of Starcourt. “Which I don’t really want and the only way to afford it is to take on passengers.”

“Which you hate doing,” Nancy chimes in as she passes by, intent on following her boyfriend back to the ship. Steve’s first mate, and his oldest friend, doesn’t look like much but Chrissy has learned that appearances are deceptive. She can take down men twice her size, wield just about any gun and hides more knives on her person than you’d expect of someone who’s five foot six.

“Which I hate doing because it involves babysitting a bunch of strangers aboard my ship,” Steve says in frustration. “Is that everything?”

Chrissy spins around to find that the boxes and all of their new guests have disappeared. Robin is folding up the umbrella and deckchair she uses when they’re docked, and just Chrissy and Steve remain on the dusty floor of Hess market.

“That’s it,” she sighs and slides her arm through Steve’s so they can wander up the ramp together.

“That’s a strange bunch you managed to find,” Steve comments, as Robin bounds ahead of them. They step over the threshold to find a flurry of activity, Jonathan and Nancy loading up the storage unit, their guests piling their belongings in the designated lockers. Robin skips between all of them, nearly whacking the blonde guy on the head with her umbrella. He glares at her, having only just missed the collision with his head, and goes back to putting his stuff away. She wonders if the two girls with him are his sisters, even though she’s not sure of any resemblance between the three. Unlike the others, their little group keeps to themselves, nervously eyeing the people around them.

Chrissy spots Eddie across the room, piling just about everything into another locker except for his guitar. He starts to smile at her when he sees her but it freezes on his face when he sees how she’s linked with Steve.

“Something wrong?” Steve asks, as he hits the button that will close up the ship. Chrissy watches Eddie turn away, a flicker of disappointment in her gut. No matter. They have five days until they reach Eddie’s desired port and that’s plenty of time for him to know that it’s just a misunderstanding.

“Just that there’s a lot of interesting people this time around,” Chrissy says instead. Because this does worry her - she’s not sure that they’ve ever had such a strange collection of passengers. Anything could happen with the ship this full. After all, it’s hard to have secrets when you live so close together. And Chrissy would know.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, squeezing her hand. “Who knows how this could turn out?”

[stevefightmerogerss]

[rohirriiim]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO AMERICA'S ASS, STEVEN GRANT ROGERS (July 4th, 1918)

[mischievous-thunder]

Why you need to double-check before posting something:

P.S. The rebloggers:

[painted-doe]

[petite-madame]

Happy 106th Birthday, America's Sweetheart - (2024)

July 4th! Happy Birthday, Cap 💗

[fluffycows4life]

@that-punk-from-brooklyn

[wingedcorgi]

mfw i decide to remake a comic from 8 years ago

[vee-nyx]

y’all ever think about how bucky got drafted and acted like he enlisted so steve would think he was okay. or how bucky was tortured for weeks at azzano and acted like he wasn’t so steve would think he was okay. or how bucky was cryofrozen traumatically for decades and voluntarily chose to go back under so that steve would think he was okay. or how bucky blinked back into existence days before steve left his life forever and bucky acted happy for him so steve would think he’d be okay.

[chaosangelmp3]

cap steve and ws robin teehee

[hurtspideyparker]

In a timeline where Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lives in the compound:

Steve, walking into the living room: Don't worry Buck I think you'll really fit in around here. Everyone is super nice

Peter: Oh my god you're living here too?! Can I please look at your arm? Please please please please please-

Bucky: *turns around and leaves*

-

Clint: So... wanna test if your spider-sense defeats my perfect aim?

Peter: Oh my god do I ever

Tony & Steve: NO.

-

Peter: Hi. Big fan. Y'know we're like a spider duo. Crime fighting spiders. Arachnid pals

Natasha, staring blankly:

Peter: Web friends? SPY-ders?

Natasha:

Peter: Spinneret associates?

Natasha: Leave.

Peter: Yes okay sorry ma'am

-

During a meal:

Bucky: *glaring at Sam*

Sam: Ay Rogers come get your dog

Steve: Bucky, leave it

Bucky: *glares down at soup instead*

-

Peter: Mr. Rogers could you help me with my homework?

Tony: What the hell kid, I'm right here

Bruce: I have... so many degrees

Steve: Hey I know a thing or two myself. Sure Queens, what do you got?

Peter: Great! I'm just gonna ask some questions for my essay. What would you say the role of war propaganda was in your decision to enroll in the military? Was being poor a factor? Actually, how was the Great Depression for you?

Steve: Less depressing than this conversation.

-

Steve: Take a jacket, it's chilly

Wanda: Okay thanks dad

Steve:

Wanda:

Peter: Ha! That's so embarrassing, it's like calling your teacher dad

Wanda: Shut up Peter, you call Tony dad all the time

Peter: Yeah but I do it on purpose so it's not embarrassing. I'm very open about my daddy issues

-

Tony: I wanna punch you in your perfect teeth

Steve:

Tony: Looking at me with your angelic blue eyes, like a freak

Steve:

Tony: Stupid Dorito ass build. Making me wanna take a bite

Steve: I feel harassed but I'm not sure what kind

-

Natasha: Hey bird brain!

Clint and Sam both turn:

Natasha: Hm, that's a problem. You have thirty seconds to decide who gets bird brain. The other will be feather head

Clint and Sam: *start arguing*

Tony: I can't believe they're fighting to be called an insult

Steve: She has that effect on people

Peter: Aw man, I wish the Black Widow gave me a nickname :(

-

Peter: Hey old man

Bucky:

Peter: I'M SO SORRY SIR MR. WILSON MADE ME DO IT PLEASE DONT KILL ME

Sam: *cackling in the background*

Bucky: *stands up and turns to Sam*

Sam: Oh shit- kid you're not getting the money if you're gonna snitch!

Peter: That's okay, I'd like to think my life is worth more than twenty bucks

-

Bucky: I need your... help

Tony: Sure, what's up?

Bucky: *glances back at Steve who stands in the doorway and nods approvingly*

Bucky: Arm.

Tony: Ok... this conversation is killing you isn't it?

Bucky:

Tony: Say please

Bucky: Nope can't do it-

Steve: Do I need to get out the get-along shirt?

*Bucky and Tony share a look of alarm*

Bucky: Please fix my arm

Tony: Yep of course no problem buddy

Read Part 2 here

[mylols16]

any one else completely forget that straight men are marvel fans like sir these characters are for the girls and gays wdym straight men are the target audience?!?

[deunmiu-dessie]

he misses you. he misses you like a flower misses the sun. like the desert misses the rain. like you are the entirety of his being. as if you hold the key to his fierce, thumping bloody heart within the palm of your hands, like he is nothing without you— and perhaps he isn't. he doesn't feel like himself, no, in fact, he feels empty. like a shell of the man he used to be before you. he feels as though the world has lost its color, its meaning, and it makes him feel bare— it makes him feel.

he misses you. he misses the warmth of your perfume, a sweet and spicy blended aroma of saffron and sugared lavender. he misses your smile, all wide and pretty— genuine and charming, and always all for him. he misses the sound of your laughter, raw and boisterous, but sometimes soft and breathy, intimate. he misses your kisses, shy and cloying— yet fierce and angry at times as well. he misses the small things, like the scatter of moles across the expanse of your body that he finds himself counting when he can't fall asleep. or the way you fuss over him, mumbling curses and your love for him all in the same sentence.

he is nothing without you, and he knows it all too well.

the soft jangle of your keys in the lock makes him look up from his journal, the door swinging open. and despite himself, he finds that he's softened underneath your warm, loving gaze. ah, he also misses the sound of your voice, euphonious and soft, a tone you use for him specifically.

❝why are you looking at me like that?❞

he can feel his heart dance within his chest, pounding fiercely as you slant your hip to the side, the very same hips he adores holding onto when swaying with you to music. your eyes, which always seem to sweep him under with their intensity with no fail, are glittering with mirth, it knocks the breath from his chest. ❝ i adore you,❞ he utters— he sounds like a fool in love, and he doesn't particularly mind it. your cheeks flush with color and you playfully roll your eyes. that's alright, you don't need to say it back, he knows.

❝help me with the groceries?❞

he? ⸺ SIMON, gojo satoru, DAMON SALVATORE, soap, older!TANJIRO, scott mccall, GAZ, clark kent, EMMETT CULLEN, leon kennedy, STEVE HARRINGTON, giyu tomioka, JOHN PRICE, loran, ULYSSES, rick grimes, KÖNIG, dick grayson, SPENCER REID.

honestly it can be anyone you envision.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Steve rogers has to go out on a looong mission and as he's fucking your brains out the thought of leaving a part of himself inside you, drives him mad and now he needs to fill you up to the brim, the thought of you all soft and big and round with his baby is all he can think about and umm😩🥵

oh my goodness I might pass out

smut warning!!

“Gonna leave you with a parting gift.”

He rasps it into your ear, sweat slick bodies melded together effortlessly. He’s got you folded in half, his weight pressing you down into the mattress as he licks up your neck, trailing open mouthed kisses across any skin he can reach.

All you can do is whine in response. In this moment, you’d let him do whatever he wanted. Anything.

“If I knock you up now, you should be showing by the time I get back.”

Oh.

Your head lols into the pillow, fingernails drawing blood from Steve’s back as they rake downwards. You want him to stop. You want more. You can’t think.

His hips are relentless, gliding into yours with no signs of stopping. He shoves a hand between your bodies, simultaneously circling your clit with his fingers and using it to anchor you to the bed. Every time your back arches up, he shoves you back down, right where he wants you.

“Gonna come as many times as I physically can,” he grunts into your jaw. “Gives us the best chance.”

He sucks a bruise into your throat as you whimper, hands scrambling for purchase on his broad shoulders.

“Steve.”

“I know, baby. S’good, huh? You’ll make such a perfect mom. Fuck, you’re gonna look so pretty all pregnant and glowing.”

The image throws you over the edge, tightening around him as you both groan.

“That’s it, atta girl. Just keep coming, baby. We’re gonna be here a while.”