#i used to call her the real life peggy carter but having now read the book

[nekoannie-chan]

Promises

Title: Promises.

Ship: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 1198 words.

Rating: Teen.

Square: B2 Time travel.

Summary: Steve went back in time to have the life he always dreamed of with you.

Warnings/Tags: Angst, fluff, death of a character, fix fic. Major Character Death.

A/N: This is my entry to @allcapsbingo​  AC1078

You can read it too on Ao3 and Wattpad.

@saiyanprincessswanie

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistakes, please let me know and I will correct them.

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2023

 The night before Steve returned the stones, it was a calm night; there was no wind; in fact, it was warm. He was sitting on the grass, and Bucky stood next to him.

"From what you told me, have you thought about what to do?" Bucky asked his friend.

"I made a promise to Y/N; I must keep it." I finally found out how to do it. I'm sure she suffered a lot when she found out what happened. "All I want is for her to be happy," Steve answered. Bucky sighed.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

"Don't worry, you know, I will do it, but first I have to see Y/N." Steve knew what Bucky was going to ask.

1945

 It had been two weeks since the last letter you received from Steve. In the last few months, the courier service took a long time, so probably the next letter from Steve will arrive next month.

You got up excited when you heard a knock on the door, maybe it was the mailman and he was bringing you the new letter, however, you were very confused when you saw a man and a woman in military uniform, you didn't know them and they were definitely not Steve or someone he had told you about, but you had a bad feeling.

"Y/N Y/L/N?" the man asked. You nodded suspiciously. "I'm Colonel Phillips; this is Agent Carter; we're here to give you news about Captain Rogers," he introduced himself.

Peggy was the one who started to tell you what had happened with Steve, but after a while, it seemed as if her voice were very far away, and you didn't understand what she kept telling you either.

Your mother had to reassure you when you started to scream; you couldn't believe that Steve was gone.

You smoothed out your black dress; you didn't know what to do; they didn't have Steve's body to make a proper funeral; you weren't even sure if you could call yourself a widow; you were supposed to get married when the war was over; he gave you the engagement ring before he left; that was the promise. The ceremony honouring Steve would be in a month.

2 weeks later

 Nobody opened the door of your house; you ran down the stairs; you held back a scream when you saw who it was; maybe you were hallucinating; the pain was so great that you imagined things you would like to happen.

"Doll, I'm back," Steve said.

You closed the door immediately, it couldn't be true what was happening, maybe your mother was right and you should move to another place, that would help you to get over what happened with Steve.

Steve knocked on the door again, confused. Maybe you were upset because he didn't answer your last letter, unless... there was someone else.

No matter what it was, he needed to talk to you. If he had to do something else, go back further if necessary, but at the end of the day, everything he did was so he could be with you again and have the life you had always dreamed of.

He spent about ten minutes begging you to open the door again.

"Is this really happening?" you asked.

"I am here, doll." I've come to keep my promise.

"That woman... so, that woman lied to me? "you questioned.

"What woman?" Steve was confused.

"I think her last name was Carter; I don't remember the name; she told me that you had died, that they lost communication with you on a mission, and that only meant one thing." Despite everything you remembered about the words she had told you, you didn't even believe you were able to pronounce them; you still believed that maybe you had a fever and all that was a hallucination.

"It was a misunderstanding; we lost communication, but I was fine; I had no way to let you know I was fine; I had to find a way to come back." After a certain amount of time, if they don't hear from you in a certain amount of time, assume you didn't make it and let the family know, the mission was successful, there is no more war or enemies, but the world still needs me," Steve explained.

"You didn't die?" You put your hand on his cheek, and it felt so real.

"No, I promised you I would come back."

"Have you... talked to your superiors?"

"Yes, don't worry; I've arranged everything," Steve assured.

"So, there won't be a ceremony anymore; I mean, you're alive and well, and you're back."

"Of course, there will be a ceremony, and it will be our wedding ceremony.” All I want is to have a life with you."

2018

 "Steve, I always had something to confess to you," you said. You were lying on the bed, squeezing his hand a little, and you knew that the time together was soon going to be over.

"What? "

"I know the truth," you confessed.

"What are you talking about?" Steve stroked your hand.

"You didn't die, but you're not the Steve of my time," you continued.

"How do you…? What? "

"Easy, I know you perfectly well, but I also found one of your diaries many years ago and read them, not to mention that sometimes in your sleep you talked and said things that... now we have already lived and seen "your voice sounded calm, and you even smiled.

"Are you angry?"

"No, I’m happy; you kept your promise, and you came back and saw everything we have done and what we have lived, and it has been just as we dreamed it would be." When they told me what happened, I thought I was going to die; when you came back, I thought I was hallucinating, but no, it was all for real.

"I couldn't let you be sad; I promised your father I would never make you cry," Steve said.

"Was it hard to decide to return to our time?"

"No, it was hard to wake up every day and you weren't there, it was a torment, from the moment I found out where I was I couldn't stop thinking about what our life would be like, all the things we would have done, all our dreams, that maybe they could never come true. Maybe you hated me for not being able to keep my promise. So as soon as I saw the opportunity, I didn't hesitate for a single moment to come back. "I always imagined things as they were: our children, the trips we took, everything, absolutely everything, has been perfect; I could never ask for more or anything different."

"Thank you for keeping your promise. "I love you, Steve." You closed your eyes.

"I love you too." Steve kept smiling for a few more minutes, he knew what had happened, nevertheless, he was satisfied with all the time they had together, if he could do it all over again, he wouldn't hesitate. He got up. It was time to break the news to the rest of the large family you had formed.

[afantasycourt]

independent multi muse rp account featuring a variety of muses from acotar, bridgerton, the witcher, marvel, and more. written by kel, 21+, she/her, uk based.

open starter tag

currently reading: fourth wing

rules & mules are under read more

MUSES.

bridgerton.

hyacinth bridgerton: florence hunt, danielle rose russell

sophie beckett: alexandra dowling

francesca bridgerton: ruby stokes, hannah dodd.

lucy abernathy: adelaide kane.

kate sharma: simone ashley.

daphne bridgerton: phoebe dynevor

edwina sharma: charithra chandran

penelope featherington: nicola coughlan

anthony bridgerton: johnathan bailey

benedict bridgerton: luke thompson

colin bridgerton: luke newton

violet ledger (bridgerton) - ruth gemmell, connie jenkins

lady danbury - arsema thomas

queen charlotte - india ria amarteifio

a court of thorns & roses.

nesta acheron - phoebe tonkin

elain archeron - lily james

feyre archeron - freya allan

rhysand - undecided

throne of glass.

yrene towers - zendaya

elide lochan - danielle campbell

aelin galathynius - skylar samuels

dorian havilliard - matthew daddario

rowan whitehorn - henry cavill

the witcher.

jaskier - joey batey

yennefer of vengerberg - anya chalotra

cirilla of cintra - freya allan

shadow & bone.

alina starkov - jessie li mei

stranger things.

chrissy cunningham - grace van dien

eddie munson - joseph quinn

nancy wheeler - natalia dyer

once upon a time.

emma swan - jennifer morrison

robyn mills - tiera skovbye

alice jones - rose reynolds

snow white - ginnifer goodwin

drizella/ivy tremaine - adelaide kane

the musketeers.

queen anne - alexandra dowling

constance - tamla kari

ninon de larroque - annabelle wallis

aramis - santiago cabrera

merlin/arthurian legends.

lancelot du lac - santiago cabrera

elaine of corbenic - undecided

lady morgana - katie mcgrath

guinevere - angel coulby

the chronicles of narnia.

lucy pevensie - georgie henley

susan pevensie - anna popplewell

wednesday.

wednesday addams - jenna ortega

enid sinclair - emma myers

downton abbey.

sybil crawley - jessica brown findlay

daisy mason - sophie mcshera

other.

hayley marshall - phoebe tonkin ( originals )

hope mikaelson - danielle rose russell ( legacies )

rebecca mikaelson - claire holt ( originals )

freya mikaelson - riley voelkel ( originals )

amy pond - karen gillan ( doctor who )

yasmin khan - mandip gill ( doctor who )

morgan stark - katherine langford (marvel)

bucky barnes - sebastian stan (marvel).

peggy carter - hayley atwell (marvel)

rebecca barnes - tbd (marvel)

RULES

RULE ONE/OOC INFORMATION Hi, my name is Kel, I'm over 21+ and use the pronouns she/her. Time zone is GMT.For now, my blog will run on a queue as I'm busy with some real life stuff. But sometimes, I may come online for an hour or two, depending on my mood. Blog is selective, private and mutual only. Also OC, multi fandom and multi-muse friendly too.

 RULE TWO/THREADS AND REPLIES  Replies can take a while to reply to, but I am not ignoring anyone. Please message if I haven't replied within a month.The best way to begin threads are through sending ask memes. I will also post open starters and maybe the occasional starter call. Not really a plotting person either; prefer to go with the flow.

RULE THREE/TRIGGERS I don't really have any triggers. That being said I will tag other people's triggers the best I can, and if I don't feel free to send a message and let me know. Don't send anon hate either. We all make mistakes and can't remember everything. Regarding shipping, I'm open to anything really. That being said, don't force any ships on any of my characters. I'll just unfollow/block if it continues to happen.

RULE FOUR/ETIQUETTE I do not tolerate any forms of hate. Racism, sexism, transphobia, homophobia and any other forms of hate are not tolerated on this blog and I don't want to see any of it on the dash. It's an immediate hard block if I see anything. Respect each other, it's not that hard.

RULE FIVE/SHIPPING. Regarding shipping, I'm open to anything really. That being said, don't force any ships on any of my characters. I'll just unfollow/block if it continues to happen. I mostly ship for chemistry, but don't mind discussing ships beforehand if anyone wants to try anything out.

RULE SIX/SMUT AND MATURE THEMES Smut will not be featured on this blog. All other mature themes will be tagged accordingly and I'm pretty much open to anything except rape, incest etc.

CREDIT All gifs, icons etc on this blog do not belong to me. Credit goes to their rightful owners.

[captainjimothycarter]

I know Tony is super cocky/confident, but Aunt/Godmom Peggy giving him a pep talk before some big event - career, graduation, wedding day - works with "I'm not ready" prompt. And in Peggy-style, they could still be snarky while being heartfelt

This might not be what you asked for but it's all I could think of. This took a life of its own. I would've had this done earlier but post-covid-exhaustion is real.

School Nerves

Bingo: "I'm not ready." - @tonystarkbingo Characters: Peggy Carter, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Relationships: Peggy Carter & Tony Stark, background: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers Tags: Auntie Peggy Carter, Kid Tony Stark

Read it on AO3

“Anthony, are you ready?”

Auntie Peggy was one of the only people in his life that could call him Anthony and get away with it. He would ignore anyone else that tried until they finally caved and called him Tony.

He didn’t know why Auntie was one of the only people who could call him Anthony but she was. He liked how she said it in her accent, and how she smiled when she did. It’s only when she said his full name Anthony Edward Stark, did he know he was in trouble.

He was in trouble a lot recently. He blamed the fact that he was forced to move into Auntie and Uncle’s home in London. They said it was for the time being but he knew the truth. Tony knew that was adult talk for never. 

He didn’t even fully understand why he had to live with his Auntie and Uncle, just that the decision was made for him because Howard was no longer around. He was used to Howard pushing him away, passing him off from one nanny to the next. This time was different, a nanny had told him he’d be staying with his Auntie and Uncle and left it at that.

He was much better off with them, even if it required him to pack his life up and move to London. Now that he was settled and the break was over, they’d enrolled him into a new private school. One that Tony had visited several times to ensure he liked it, but he was still nervous. Nervous to the point his tummy was aching.

He didn’t see why he couldn’t just be homeschooled as Howard had done. The tutors challenged him, these schools didn’t. They were boring, full of boring kids and boring teachers. Boring, boring, boring.

Auntie promised it would be different, but Tony wasn’t so sure.

“Anthony, I’m coming in, okay?”

Tony sighed and let his shoulders droop as his Auntie stepped inside, hanging his head. “I-I’m struggling with the pants. Maybe the uniform doesn’t fit and I can’t go.”

Auntie chuckled at his response, smoothing his hair down to try to flatten it. “Darling, I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more creative than that.” She tugged on the collar of his shirt, undoing the tie. “I think there’s more of a problem with your shirt, than pants. This is on backward.”

Tony frowned, looking at himself in the full-length mirror and sighing out of annoyance. In his nerves of starting a new school, meeting new people, and having to make new friends with ‘peers his age because you must have friends your age’, he’d somehow ended up putting his dress shirt on backward.

He spun back to his Auntie, pulling all his clothes but his underwear off. “Help?”

Instead of getting frustrated and calling him names, like Howard did, Auntie helped him put on the uniform correctly. She even did the tie for him, claiming Uncle couldn’t knot ties correctly.

“What’s wrong?” Auntie asked him, as they sat at the breakfast nook. “You’re normally chatty in the morning.”

“Talking a mile a minute,” Uncle Steve added in, adding to the growing stack of flapjacks on the table. “Are you nervous about starting school today?”

Tony didn’t want to answer but they were watching him. They wanted an answer. He just shoved a bite into his mouth, his cheeks bulging as he chewed.

“I’m not ready.” He finally found himself whispering, unsure if Auntie had heard him. Uncle had, Uncle had very, very good senses, he’s told. “I-I’m not ready to go. I don’t want to go to school, I want to stay here, with you and uncle!”

He didn’t miss the way the adults exchanged a look, something they did often. Silent conversations, Bucky-Bear called them.

“Oh, little one. You know, Uncle and I have to go to work, you’d just sit in our office all day and be very, very bored.” Auntie slid closer to him, using the damp end of a washcloth to clean the sticky syrup from his face. As she did, she smiled at him, cupping his jawline to get him to look up at her.

“I know change is terrifying, but it’s amazing too. You got to fly by yourself, you got to come live with your uncle and me,” she told him honestly, kissing his temple. “I know it’s been a rough year for you, Anthony, but you’ve come so far and we’re so proud of how far you’ve come. We love you so, so much.”

“Even if you did bite a few nannies along the way,” Uncle chuckled, earning a look from Auntie.

“Not the point, Steven,” she told him, turning her attention back to him. “I know going to a new school is scary, but we’re here with you, every step of the way. You visited the school several times, you talked to your teachers, aren’t you excited? You nearly hyperventilated from the four-story library!”

Tony grunted, pulling back to kick his feet again and play with the end of his dress shirt. “I’ve never seen so many books before. But-but that’s not the point! Kids are mean, they’re gonna tease me because I’m not British like them and because of my smarts.”

“Tony,” Uncle Steve sighed, kneeling beside him and ruffling his hair. Tony grumbled, he’d so hard to get it to lay flat. “They’re not going to tease you, they’re going to want to get to know you! They’re going to love you and your brilliant mind.”

Tony sighed, kicking his feet again. He sorta saw their point. He didn’t have to dumb himself down, the teachers seemed excited to have them. The science teacher even promised they were starting a robotics team this year and he had already been working on a few ideas.

“Trust me,” Uncle Steve said, standing up and ruffling his hair again. “You’re going to have a good time. A much better time than being stuck in our boring office. Aunt Peggy and I have already talked to your teachers about the situation and you’re allowed to call us if you’re upset and need to come home, okay?”

“How about this - we’ll try the  school for a week, okay?” Aunt Peggy asked, trying to fix his ruffled hair. “If you don’t think you can handle it, after that, then we’ll figure something else out.”

Well, he supposed he could handle it for a week. 

In the end, Tony agreed, finishing off his breakfast and grabbing at his brand-new backpack. Uncle Steve was smiling from ear to ear as he buckled the kiddo in, smoothing down his uniform.

“You’re going to do great, kiddo,” he promised, kissing the top of his head. “You’re going to love school and make plenty of friends, alright?”

--

Steve sighed as he leaned into Peggy’s backside, hooking his chin over her shoulder. T-minus, two minutes until Tony was out of school.

“On the bright side, he didn’t call us,” Steve tried to reason with both of their worries.

“Hm,” was all her response was, her eyes on the giant clock above the entrance. “Yes, but did he not call because he’s enjoying school or thinks he doesn’t want to burden us?”

There was very little he could do to soothe the anxious thoughts until Tony came out. He squeezed her gently to him, kissing her cheek. “Well, you’re about to find out.”

The words were just heard over the sound of the loud bell signaling the release of the students. They held their breath and waited, counting down the seconds as the sea of students bolted out of the school.

Steve was the first to spot Tony, lagging in the back of the waves of students coming out. His tie was loosened, his hair a complete mess, his shirt untucked, and there was a tear on his pants. More worrying, he could feel Peggy stiffening as she spotted the bruise on his cheek, his face swelling slightly.

Tony ran up to them grinning from ear to ear. He was holding hands with a young boy who looked equally as rough, waving his hand around. The boy was sporting a bruise on his cheek too.

“Auntie! Uncle! You were right!” He breathed,  holding up the boy’s hand. “This is Stephen, but he likes to go by his last name Strange. He punched me and we’re friends!”

“We punched each other,” Strange replied in a matter-of-fact tone. “Because he dared me too.”

“Because you were being an idiot and told me to do it!” Tony explained. “He’s my best friend, Auntie. I made a friend. A real friend and school was so-so much fun! I get to build robots next week! You were right - I am ready.”

[nonasuch]

well this was a wild ride from start to finish

I’ve wanted to read The White Mouse, Nancy Wake’s autobiography about her time in the French Resistance, for years, but it’s long out of print and there were no ebooks to be found. But apparently that is no longer the case: there is a Kindle version, and it is glorious.

Some highlights:

Yeah, this pretty much captures the spirit of the book.

The first two great loves of Nancy’s life were, apparently, her dog and a gorgeous Yugoslavian woman named Stephanie.

Nancy invites Stephanie to move in with her after witnessing Stephanie’s extremely dramatic breakup with her husband, and then proceeds to namedrop like crazy for several paragraphs, including a bit about the time a famous actor invited them to see him play the lead in The Trial of Oscar WIlde. None of this is subtle.

Nancy does eventually meet and marry a dude who she seems to love quite a bit, but not as much as she loves describing the elaborate meal they served at their wedding. This is like CS Lewis level food description.

Basically she goes into more detail about food than she does about most of the military operations she was involved in.

Later, after she jumps from a moving train and runs for it while being machine-gunned at, Nancy spends a paragraph describing the jewelry that had been in the handbag she dropped, in detail. She was still very upset about losing it at the time she wrote her autobiography, forty years later. Nancy’s determination to Look Her Best is genuinely impressive.

This bit takes place after she crossed the Pyrenees on foot and has been wearing the same clothes for like a month. She does this specifically because two of the women who crossed the Pyrenees with her have been pissing her off and she wants them to look extra worn and bedraggled by comparison. I love her.

Eventually Nancy makes it to England, joins the SOE and starts training to be parachuted into France where she’ll join up with the Resistance. First, though, she has to embarrass the shit out of some dudes.

Nancy finds time to pull three separate pranks with those condoms before she’s done training. Nancy does not fuck around.

Nancy had more fun at SOE training than the entire cast of Animal House had in the entire runtime of Animal House. I LOVE HER.

Once Nancy gets to France she is briefly stranded without a radio operator, but he does turn up eventually. Every single story about this dude in the entire book is incredible.

I mean, there was a war on. You might die tomorrow. Nancy understands.

Nancy also brought two silk nightgowns (one pink and one blue) with her to Occupied France and made a point of changing out of her battledress every night before going to sleep. At one point Nancy risks capture because she needs a new set of clothes for a mission (ones that don’t look like they’ve had WWII fought in them) and a tailor in a nearby village has promised her a custom-made outfit so she needs to get to the fitting.

There is a real person named Donald Darling. I am so glad.

For the record, Nancy punched a waiter in Paris after the war because he was disparaging about the English in front of her friend. It was awesome.

Nancy’s spirits do get low for a while after the war, though, especially since her husband died in a prison camp while she was in England and she didn’t find out until after the liberation of Paris. It’s okay, though:

Nancy seems like the kind of person who makes other people even more awesome by her mere presence, like her Resistance commander buddy:

Basically, Nancy has lived a LIFE. This sums her up pretty well, I think:

[donutloverxo]

Soooo there are many fics where reader makes steve jealous and it ends in rogh possesive fcking.. but what if steve tries to make reader jealous and it totally backfires and she becomes extremely insecure?? But please with a fluffy ending because my poor heart can’t handle anything less 🥺🥺

Hey. Thanks for the request and I hope this fits. *gif is not mine* Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs and welcome and much appreciated. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+. Please🙏🙏

"Um... yes?" You asked as you brought down the hand which was holding out a twenty dollar bill - since you thought it was the pizza you've been waiting for, for like the past half an hour, and not a blond, six feet and some inches,tall super soldier.

"Hi... doll," he smiled.

"My name's Y/N," you corrected him as you frowned, so fed up of men undermining you by calling you such 'sweet' nicknames. You knew Captain Rogers wasn't like that, but still you couldn't have him getting any ideas.

"Right," he cleared his throat as he repeated your name. "Sorry," he said with a toothy grin, which almost made your heart melt.

"How did you get my address, Captain?"

"Tony gave it to me. I would've asked you at work... but I wanted to do this the right way."

"Do what?" you quirked a brow.

"Um, I maybe people aren't as formal nowadays," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "But I can't really change who I am... not so late in life anyway," he cringed as he realised he was pretty rambling then, taking a deep breath he gathered enough courage, "I wanted to ask you to come with me, as my date, to the valentines party this Sunday."

You hummed at that, considering it because damn if Rogers wasn't convincing. Even when he wasn't as authoritative and dominating as he is when he puts on the suit.

It would be nice to be courted and treated nicely, and to not have to put up with the shit most men try to pull with you, you were sure Rogers would show you the time of your life. Besides, only an idiot would say no to him.

"No." You said with a finality that left no room for debate. "Is that all?"

"Uh... I... yes..." he stammered, not exactly prepared to be turned down so bluntly. "Can I ask why?"

"I don't shit where I eat."

"What?" his eyebrows cutely scrunching up.

You just knew you must've touched a nerve with your crass language. Tony, your boss, had told you about Cap and his 'language' incident.

"I don't date people at work... it can get complicated," you explained as he nodded.

It wasn't a complete lie. You didn't want to be known as the 'easy' girl or have others gossip about you. But that would be a sacrifice you'd willing make for someone like Steve. Who'd dare make fun of the Captains girl anyway?

You had been smitten with him from the moment you saw him, learning about his bravery and sacrifice as a kid you looked upto him and respected him, but when you met him in real life... you were a complete goner. Your stomach did somersaults every time he touched you, or hell even looked your way.

You tried your best to flirt, which was basically you stuttering and trying to make small talk whenever you had a chance to talk to him. Since he was born almost a century ago he would probably be offended if you were the one to make the first move.

You continued your back and forth for weeks before he told you about her. That he'll be visiting her over the weekend. You simply nodded, having a vague idea of who Peggy Carter was but not of what she went to Steve.

After some research you found out that she was an old flame of his, someone he couldn't marry and build a life with because he was frozen for decades. Upon seeing her many qualifications, and just how freaking brilliant she was, you knew one thing.

You may not be as smart as her, but you knew that you could never measure upto a woman that incredible. Someone Steve still visits after all these years. You were already afraid that he was out of your league but now you were sure of it.

"Did I do something wrong?" he wanted to know.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he shoved his hands in his pockets, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout, "It's just that you used to talk to me all the time... and now it seems as if you're ignoring me. Is it because of something I did? Whatever it is I never meant to hurt you," he swore.

You sighed. "It's nothing you did, really. I just realized how incompatible we are. I hope you find the one you're looking for, someone who'll make you happy and give you the world. It just won't be me."

You didn't let him say anything closing your door instantly as you kept your tears at bay.

At the valentines party

"Cap," Tony said, slapping a hand on Steve's shoulder, "I thought you'd have her on your arm tonight. What happened?"

Referring to his assistant. He wanted to play cupid this once, since it was the season of love, he wanted to see his idiot friends happy. He was sure you both would be disgustingly smooching and all cute at the party. But not only had you both shown up separately, you seemed to be actively ignoring Steve.

"She uh... rejected me," he said, looking down into his glass of whiskey. It didn't do much for him but it helped him blend in.

"Ouch," Tony winced, "I was sure she would go for you. But I guess I have been wrong before," he shrugged.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She goes all heart eyes whenever you're around. But I guess that's nothing unique since that's just how most women act around you," he scoffed. "You should read all the love letters you got today. I was going through them, you have quite a passionate fanbase of people who want to... what was it..." he pretended to think hard about it. "Yes, 'ride your bicep', I don't understand the physics of how on earth that would work, but I am intrigued."

"Tony," Steve rolled his eyes as he always does when he's around the billionaire. "I don't really care about all of them... they don't know me. I only care about her and I don't know why she said no, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Whoa, you're accepting defeat so soon? Where's that I-can-do-this-all-day attitude?"

"This isn't a war, Tony. If she doesn't see me that way... then there isn't much I could do."

"Maybe she's just playing hard to get. There's absolutely no way to really know what goes on in womens heads, Rogers. They're so smart and sneaky... it's kinda scary actually."

"I don't think she'd play games..."

Tony had gotten distracted pretty quickly and left Steve alone to pout and only appreciate your beauty from afar. You had worn a pink dress with red hearts on it, and for some reason, you got more beautiful every time he looked at you.

"Hello."

He jerked when he heard the foreign voice, looking at the blonde woman next to him, with her hand out, he shook it just to be polite.

"I'm Crystal," she smiled, flashing her sparkly white teeth.

"I'm Steve."

"Of course I know who you are!" she laughed, "You're Captain America, everyone knows you," she playfully hot his bicep before squeezing it, "Oh my... you must work out a lot."

"Uh... yeah..." he nodded. He could never get used to how people perceived him so differently.

"There is something I need to know really bad," Crystal blinked as she looked up at him, "Do you wear underwear in those suits? They seem really tight, wouldn't it be uncomfortable?"

"Oh, um... we just sort of..."

You had never looked at yourself as a jealous person. Maybe things were different when it came to Steve... he was a pretty special guy.

When you looked at him, talking to some girl, dancing with her, laughing and having fun with her, it was as if you were on fire from simmering rage, at the same time you could feel your heart breaking in a million pieces.

You knew it was wrong. You had no claim to him, he can do whatever he wants. If you said no to him then it makes perfect sense that he seeked out someone else.

You just had to get away for some fresh air, so you wouldn't abandon all class and pull the girls hair and drag her away from your Steve.

You yelped when you heard him call out your name.

Looking over your shoulder you saw him staring at you, his brows scrunched up, he looked so worried. But why?

"What're you doing here? You'll catch a cold, doll," he takes off his blazer, putting it over your shoulders and then groaning when he realised his slip up.

"Right, sorry, old habits die hard. I won't call you that again, I promise," he said, crossing his finger over his heart.

"No... I think it's kinda sweet. No ones ever had such an endearing petname for me. I do like it."

"Oh," he frowned, "it's just that you said you didn't."

Tony, of all the people in the whole universe, was right. There was no understanding women.

"I guess I lied..."

"Why?"

"Um..." You were at a loss of words and nervous. Steve wouldn't tolerate lies, and you didn't want him to hate you. "It was easier to do that then tell you the truth."

"What's the truth?"

"I do like you... a lot. But I don't want to live in someone else's shadow. And I just think the whole thing would end in a disaster..."

"What're you talking about, Y/N?"

"Peggy. Your first and only love. I can't measure upto her, not in my wildest dreams, there's no use trying."

"Why would you have to measure upto Peggy?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but couldn't really come up with an answer. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I did have feelings for her, but that was a long time ago. I'm happy she lived her life, it just wasn't meant to be."

"So, you're not still in love with her?"

"No," he shook his head, "I wouldn't have asked you out if I was."

"Well, what about Crystal? You were practically glued to her the entire evening!" you huffed as you stomped your foot. Mad at your own stupidity. You could've simply told him the truth and asked for a straight answer. "I have to warn you, she had was pretty crazy in the last season."

"Last season?"

"Mm-hm, the last season of her reality show, I've seen all eight seasons. Maybe they just amp up the drama, maybe she isn't actually crazy, I wouldn't know," you shrugged.

"Doll," he smirked, circling a hand around your waist and pulling you into him, "are you jealous?"

"I am not!" you gasped, looking away from his eyes as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"I don't want anyone but you. Why would I? You're goddamn perfect. And... I want you to be my girl."

"I guess I don't really have a reason to say no now..." you murmured, your face still flustered as you played with the buttons on his shirt before he tilted your chin up to make you look at him, placing his lips over yours in the most tender of kisses.

"Got the job done, Tones... I'm pretty sure I saw him go after her, I have to say though, you look at Captain America, and you really don't expect him to be that awkward..." Crystal said as she sipped on her gin and tonic. "You owe me."

Tony only hummed, not too happy about being indebted to someone, but you both needed a necessary push in the right direction.

[thestorycfus]

The Sweetest Apparition - Part 1

Pairing: Peggy Carter x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and historian who specializes in the life and legacy of Captain Carter. After Nick Fury uses the Tesseract to bring Peggy back, the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. contacts the reader to help her navigate life in the XXI century.

Warnings and notes: This series takes place after the last scene of What If… episode one, including spoilers to that episode. This chapter is more of an introduction before Peggy shows up. 

Word count: 847

Series Masterlist

They say you should never meet your heroes, but you would love to have the chance. It’s a shame that your hero was lost in some bizarre alien dimension since World War II. As a historian, your entire academic career was dedicated to studying the life of Captain Carter and of the people around her. Accessing all official and some unofficial sources, you knew almost everything there was to know about the Captain. Your interest in her life’s work and legacy had led you to work at S.H.I.E.L.D., the agency that Steve Rogers and Howard Stark founded in her homage, and you even got to interview Tony Stark a few of times.

Your job at S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn’t exactly action-packed, but it suited your tastes and abilities well. Your days were dedicated to historical research, sometimes working along with the scientists to find clues about how the super soldier program really came to be, or in the mission to better understand technologies of unknown origin. During that particular month, you had been tasked with revisiting the existing registers about the Tesseract. You didn’t have access to the artifact itself, of course, but that was not where your knowledge came in handy anyway. You just wished someone would tell you what this specific revising was for, so you could focus on the right information, but that was somehow classified, which probably meant someone in power wanted to play around with the shiny blue box for who knows what purposes, and they hoped you could find some relevant piece of information about how to use it.

All the pertinent files you had access to were already in your office. You spent the morning re-reading old journals and occasionally writing down your own observations. It was almost lunch time and you were ready for a break when you heard someone knocking on your door.

“It’s open. Please, come in.”

You expected it to be one of the other agents of the floor, probably calling you to go get lunch in the restaurant across the street. Instead, the door opened to reveal a less familiar face. You recognized the man as Agent Barton, though you had never met him before. He was one of the most known S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, often working with Director Fury himself. If Barton was at your office, something was probably wrong.

“Are you Agent L/N?” He sounded hesitant as he walked in, almost startled by something, and that was starting to freak you out.

“Yes, that’s me. How can I help you, Agent Barton? Is it about the Tesseract?”

“Something like that. Fury requested your assistance immediately.”

Oh, of course. The director of S.H.I.E.L.D. was calling you. No big deal. Just another Tuesday. You closed the journal you were working on, grabbed your bad and stood up. Barton was already walking out, so you locked your door and followed him.

“You are our Captain Carter specialist, right?” He asked, shaking his head as if he was still trying to process something.

“I believe so. What aspect of her history does the Director need to..?” You were not sure of what to ask. If this was related to the Tesseract, it should be more connected to Rogers or Stark (either of them) than to Captain Carter, but it would be happy to help with whatever you could.

“It’s more about her adaptation than her history, I guess.” Barton got to the elevator, with you following closely. You realized you were headed to the top floor, presumably to Fury’s office.

“Oh, her adaptation to the serum? I have some great articles on that on my laptop. Should I go back to my office to get it? It will only take a minute.” You should have brought it along anyway, but you were too surprised by Barton’s visit to remember that at first.

“No, there’s no need. You see, Director Fury was experimenting with the Tesseract, and we got more than we expected. He needs you to help Captain Carter with her adaptation to the XXI century. She’s in his office now.”

Maybe it was a good thing that you left your laptop behind, because you would have dropped it along with your bag. The elevator stopped moving and you bent down to get your bag just as the doors opened. At least, the movement bought you a few more seconds before you had to reply. You weren’t so sure you would be able to speak coherently.

“You mean the actual, real Captain Margaret Elizabeth Carter? Alive?” Yes, you sounded like a fool, but it was better if you got that out of the way before you sounded like a fool in front of Fury or, even worse, in front of real life Captain Carter.

“I’m still trying to figure that out myself, but yeah. The actual, real, alive one. Right behind that door.” Without giving you any time to prepare, Barton walked to that door, opening it like it was no big deal. You took a deep breath and followed his lead, entering Director Fury’s office for the first time.

[ficklefigments]

okay ( possibly controversial ) opinions and random thoughts about civil war bc i can !! beware tony stark stans and actually just mcu stans in general possibly, bc ive been seeing stuff on my dash and i have ~thoughts~

- k, starting off with why no one READ the accords ?? maybe they did and we didn’t get to see a shot bc boring but pls marvel you could’ve flipped a five second shot to each character reading with a facial reaction. but also like individual stances pls, not just pick a side, lowkey not that realistic

- also we will be getting into agents of shield knowledge here, some people don’t consider it canon, i do, go pull your head out of feige’s asshole <3 ( lovingly, jokingky she said )

- in agents of shield, it required every person/being that had a genetic mutation that led to them being powered ( basically anyone who couldn’t take away their powers then get them back like peter parker getting bit by the spider, he can’t get un-bit ) to be registered with the government, tracked by the government, monitored, surveillance, the whole sha bang. some heroes, that’s not a problem for ex, the ones that wear a suit and can take it on and off. but the ones that have it in their blood and body ? they are forced into this. this is why i was kinda iffy with tony on this, not everyone is the same kind of superhero and what may apply to someone does naturally apply to another. like bro, you can stop, some ppl can’t.

- but also they were required to submit both their secret superhero identities and real identities for reg. it is incredibly dangerous for the world to know exactly who a powered individual is, there was an organization called the watchdogs in agents of shield that was hellbent on eliminating a breed of powered people called in humans and this information was leaked from the government, leading to the loss of many lives. like there were nationwide blackouts and purges to kill in humans with the information that was leaked, it obvi wasn’t safe.

- tony stark blackmails peter parker into fighting for him, a 15 year old kid, by threatening to reveal his new and somewhat unstable secret identity to aunt may. what the fuck. we all saw that right ?

- i’m uncomfortable with how wanda was the scapegoat for lagos, other people fueled this accident, it wasn’t just her. the news just kept going on and on ?? like i feel like ppl took advantage of the fact she’s powered and used that for anti propaganda

- stop. bashing. sharon. carter. yeah it’s a little weird she kissed the same guy as her aunt, but who fucking cares? steve knew peggy for a few yrs, she was supposed to move on, at this point, she doesn’t own him.

- tony only gets involved with “taking responsibility for our actions” when this american kid dies. he heard a sad story and he’s ready to just go 180 ?? sir. so many ppl died in nyc, why now, what did you do the.

- THE RAFT. the prison for super villains ? yeah let’s just stick half the avengers in there.

- WANDAS SHOCK COLLAR. BAD. BAD. BAD. INHUMANE. TORTURE.

- tony exposed clint’s family to the government. y’know the secret family ? emphasis on secret !

-im not your #1 steve rogers stan or anything but yes my initial reaction was to be on team cap bc i consider myself to have somewhat of a moral code and like if u can help someone !! then !! help !! i was totally with him on this even tho i believe they need some kind of nick fury / phil coulson ( who’s honestly technically still alive and able to do the job ) to babysit them. i didn’t like how everyone was fine being told when they can and can’t help, they’re heroes because of their natural instinct to help ppl :((

-i want it addressed at some point how bucky felt about being the one who made howard kick the bucket. idk if they were close or anything but like ?? they both worked with steve on the same team and war kinda brings ppl together, so like how did he feel watching himself kill one of his friends from his life when everything was easier ? unwillingly severing another tie to bucky barnes and releasing the winter soldier

pls remember these r just my opinions !! you do not have to agree/disagree or even read these, i just needed to get a few thoughts out and this is what we have rn

[vdlest]

Onto It

Characters:

TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Summary:

Bucky and Sam are both in New York to finish their mission with the power broker, turns out to be Sharon Carter. The latter is not just the villain in this story, but you once got jealous of her as well when she tried to seduce your man.

Warning:

Swearing

Jealousy

Mention of Smut

"You know you could just call Bucky instead of being a grumpy old lady in here," Wanda pointed out as you accidentally dropped your pen for fifth time.

You and Wanda are doing some mission report in the house that you share together, the reports that you and Wanda are reading and discussing has something to do with the mission two had last week. But your mind is not completely concentrated to whatever the report says. Your mind is in New York, thinking of your man, Bucky Barnes.

"Come on, y/n," Wanda handed you your phone, "Just call him already. I know you're worried about the fact that he and Sam is there in New York to deal with the Sharon Carter," she raised her two hands to make air-quotation-marks upon mentioning Sharon's name.

You used to have no problem with Sharon, you actually wanted her to and Steve to enjoy each other's company before. But that was before. Before that witch became a villain in your lives. All along she is the power broker and she made a fool out of you all. Not just that, she even tried to seduce Bucky because she wanted to cover up her real identity. She put a substance on Bucky's drink to drug him and make it look like something happened to them, but before she could pull off her plan, you and Sam were able to stop her, however she escaped.

"Sam and Bucky are in New York to take that woman down, so I shouldn't feel worried about it anymore," you confidently said, realizing that Bucky promised that there's only woman in his life and that's you.

The two of you started dating a year ago now, but both of you just want to keep it unlabeled for now. But you won't deny the fact that you have been wanting to take it to the next level. There were times when you would ask yourself what is your right to get jealous if there's someone trying to steal your man, he's not even yours to begin with.

"Aren't you guys getting tired of the unlabeled thingy?" Wanda asked you as he closes the folder she's holding, "I mean, no offense, okay? But you clearly like each other. You guys have been dating for a year now and don't you think it's a bit unfair on your part?"

"Unfair, why?" you questioned her. "Wanda, it is also my choice to put it this way. We don't want to rush things about us," you explained.

"Yeah, I know that you guys are confident with your relationship as exclusively dating, but it's better to put label in it. Trust me, you should do it while you still can," she reached for you hand and gave it a squeeze as she smiles at you, "Vis and I didn't have much time. So you and Bucky should make it lasts while you can."

You can sense pain in Wanda's voice. It must've really hard for her to move on and accept her and Vision's fate. If you were in her place, you don't know what will make you stay in your sanity.

Wanda has always been a good friend to you. She has always give you advices and her presence in your life makes you understand the things you were having a hard time understanding, like love itself.

"Do you want some coffee?" Wanda asked you as she stood up from her seat, "I'll probably order some food as well, I'm starving."

Just when Wanda's about to leave to order food and coffee, your phone rang.

B U C K Y calling...

"Seems like your guy cannot live in a day without hearing your voice," Wanda teased before she made her way out, leaving you alone inside the family room.

You grabbed your phone and answered the call of your unofficial boyfriend.

"Hey, I've been texting you, but you're not replying. Are you okay?" he asked as soon as you accepted his call.

"Oh, yeah," you saw the multiple messages that came from him, but you weren't able to see it because you were too preoccupied with the reports and the fact that Sharon Carter is bugging your mind, "Sorry, just got a little mixed up with the mission reports. Wanda and I have been reading it for almost 2 hours."

First of all, you did not want to tell him about your issue with Sharon Carter, although he's already aware of it and he knows already that you got jealous and really angry of her for what happened. Second, you did not want him to feel like you don't trust him.

"How's the mission?" you asked him, changing the topic.

"Well, we finally caught Sharon red-handed. She's in custody right now and the investigation about her will start first thing in the morning tomorrow," he said. Even though they've already taken Sharon down, he and Sam have to stay in New York for a few more days since they have to stay for the investigation, "You, alright?"

You hate it when he knows something's wrong with you or something's bothering your mind. He can already sense it just by the way you breath or speak.

"You know that I know you already, right? So, tell me, what's bothering you?" he questions.

The sigh you let out confirmed his hunch, you're not gonna get away with it anyway so you might as well fire with it. You've always been so honest with him anyway.

"I'm just not so comfortable with the fact that Sharon Carter witch, God, I hope Agent Peggy Carter will forgive me for telling bad words about her niece," you heard him chuckle in the other end. "But God, I can't just forget what she did to you, what she almost did to you."

"You mean when she almost raped me?" he joked.

"Look, Bucky, it's not really funny, okay?" you groaned as you hear him chuckle again on the other line.

"I get it, y/n. Okay? I get it. You have to stop worrying about it, okay? It won't happen ever again. Besides, after this mission, I won't be involved in anything about Sharon anymore. And I also want to take you out again, something that I haven't done for a while now," he reassured you.

It's true that two of you haven't gone on a date for quite some time, as both of you got busy with different things, especially in saving the world and humankind. But it's not really something that bothers you. He still makes you feel special in different ways.

"Buck," you remembered what Wanda advised you and you know you had to open it up to Bucky as soon as you could, "Can we also talk about us when you get back?" you hesitantly asked.

"What do you mean talk about us?" he sounded worried. You closed your eyes as you asked yourself if you did the right thing of opening it up to him this early, "Y/n, do you want us to stop? 'Cause if you do, you can just tell me now."

"Bucky, no," you answered immediately. God knows that's the very last thing you want to happen. You didn't want to lose him. "I just...I...I am...fuck!" you swore, you don't know how to tell him about it.

"Y/n, what's happening? Just tell me so we could do something about it."

You sighed as you prepare yourself to tell everything to him, "I know I was the one who told you and suggested that we should just do the unlabeled relationship because it's much easier that way, and it really was. We did not feel any pressure. We did not feel we have to rush or something, but I just got tired of it. I got tired of it the moment Sharon asked me a few months ago when the incident happened that what is my right to get jealous, to get mad, we're not even in a relationship. It hit me. That question fucking hit me. And here's Wanda telling me how we should make everything last while we can and I feel so guilty that we're taking our time for granted knowing that she and Vision did not get to their happy ending." You took a deep breath and closes your eyes for a second, "I didn't mean to pressure you or anything Bucky, I really don't. I just don't want to take what we have for granted."

After you let your feelings out, it took a few seconds before Bucky could finally answer you. His silence made you nervous but the moment you heard him chuckle, you felt a little relief.

"You're right, we should talk about us when I get back. I should put label to our relationship and I shouldn't make you feel that we're nothing, because you really mean the world to me, y/n. And it's about time we put this whole thing we have in the right pedestal," his words made you ease the embarassment and the awkwardness you're feeling. "Just stop thinking about Sharon, okay? I don't give a damn about her. The whole time I'm away from you all I think is how I would kiss your lips and every inch of your body."

You laughed by the fact that he's thinking of making love to you while he shove off the idea of Sharon Carter or any woman in his life, because there's only one woman in his life and that's you.

"You know I like it when I see you so possessive of me, makes me so eager to fuck you until you realized that you're the only woman I give a fuck," you could clearly hear him he was whispering.

You went out of the family room and went up to your room, giving you more privacy since the man you're talking to right now is starting to propose phone sex.

"Is it just me or you're whispering?" you innocently asked.

"Well, I'm not now. I just got inside my car so," he paused for a moment, "So prepare yourself 'cause I'll make you so wet that you'll wish I'm beside you tonight to attend to your needs."

"You wish," you teased him. "Come home first and I'll cum for you, you tease."

He chuckled, "I'm onto it, sweetheart. I'll ask Sam if I could leave early."

"And what excuse will you tell him?" you asked.

"I'll tell him that I need to make Y/N Y/L/N officially mine, officially my girlfriend. I'll also tell him that there's someone I need to help with her sexual needs," he's joking on the last part but his first sentence made your heart shiver and so excited at the same time.

"That's exciting, and tempting," you teased him back. "Why don't you start pumping your cock and imagine that I'm doing it for you? While I lay here in my bed, thinking of your vibranium fingers making me whimper and moan your fucking name?"

"You're killing me," he groaned and that gave you the sign that he's already pumping himself. "Remind me to punish you for teasing me like this when I get back."

Wanda is right. You should never waste the time you and Bucky have. You should never take anything for granted. Bucky told you that you mean the world to him, and he makes you feel that way, not just sexually, but in romantic way. He would swept you off of your feet. He would do anything for you. That is why if there's someone who'll ask you who are you in James Buchanan Barnes' life, you would just simply answer that you're the love of his life. Too proud to claim it but that's the truth.

No woman can ever make you feel threatened of her anymore, as Bucky claim you his and you claim him as yours day by day, night by night.

-v.dl

[sunmoonandeddie]

saturdays

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

word count: 3,467

summary: Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

warnings: Some swearing

a/n:  This was my March 2020 one shot for my Patreon that they received early access to.  Let me know what y’all think!

Bucky Barnes has a new routine.

Sundays are for sleeping in before eventually making his way to Brooklyn, where he picks up three bouquets and an egg, bacon, and cheese breakfast sandwich from Sal’s bodega before going to the cemetery.  He sits against his sister’s tombstone—his parents’ to his right—and eats his late breakfast.  He sits and talks for a few hours before leaving the flowers on their graves.  He always has to have peonies, since those were Becca’s favorites.

Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays are for training.  He wakes up at five in the morning to go running with Sam, something he thought would end when Steve went back to be with Peggy Carter.  But he wasn’t bitter.  No.

But which thing he wasn’t bitter about, he’d never tell.

Along with the run, he spends most of the day sparring and battling simulations in the gym.  He has short breaks for meals, but he pretty much is on go until after dinner, when he goes straight to bed.

But Fridays are his favorite.  Because he gets to sleep in until nine-thirty in the morning, which is a luxury he’s not used to.  Then Sam and him grab a late breakfast together before Bucky goes into the city for his therapy session.

And Bucky likes his therapist!  Which he was really, really surprised about!  But Marlene is good.  Marlene is good because she doesn’t placate him.  She calls him out on his shit, and pushes him forward.  Because if it had been up to him, he would’ve stopped seeing her after their third meeting, when she had him drawing with fucking crayons that snapped in his hand way too easily.  But it’s been over a year since he started seeing her, and even though he still has his bad days, his bad days now would’ve been his best days before.

“So, you think you’re finally ready to go through Rebecca’s things?” Marlene asks, looking at him with a peaceful expression.

“I don’t think so, I am,” he says firmly, feeling a rush of triumph as a smile spreads across her lips.  “It’s time, you know?”

She nods in understanding, humming.  “Do you have someone going with you?”

Usually, Sam would go with him for things like this, and just in general.  They were attached at the hip, especially after the whole Steve leaving thing.

Yeah, they were both hit pretty hard with that.

“Yes, but I…”  He sighs, rubbing his hands on his jeans.  “I think this is something I need to do alone.  At least, the going through her stuff part…  But he is going with me to move the stuff to the Tower.”

“Good, good,” she says, her brows slightly furrowed.  “And how are you feeling today about Steve leaving?”

Bucky lets out a huff of air, taking a moment to think about it.  “To be completely honest with you…  I’m kind of over it today.  I have other things to do and yeah, I would’ve liked him to be here for it, but that’s not how it is.  And him leaving is more about him than it is about me.”  He shrugs, his lips pressed into a thin line.  “Just because he decided to go back doesn’t mean he wanted to leave me.”

Marlene sets her clipboard to the side, a warm smile on her face.  “Well, Bucky, I think we’ll end today on that thought.”  She stands up, offering her hand for him to shake as she does everyday.  “You’ve done well today.  You should be proud of yourself.”

He leaves with a wave and a “See you next week!” as he always does.

He hadn’t known about the storage unit full of his sister’s stuff until about eight months ago, when he asked Maria Hill if there was anything left of hers.  He knew that SHIELD had been the ones to take control of her assets when she had no children, since she was the sister of a Howling Commando and the best friend of Captain America.

Becca had died in December of 2013.  He’d missed her by less than six months.

It was heartbreaking when he first found out, and still is, if he was being honest.  But at least he has her stuff to go through, even though he has no idea what all is going to be in the storage unit.  Stevie hadn’t had anything other than what the Smithsonian had snatched up.

The car ride to the storage facility is quiet, Sam at the wheel.  Bucky still hasn’t gotten his license, since he doesn’t see a point.  Why should he when there’s the subway and Uber and even just good old fashioned walking?  “You’ve gotta save the Earth, Sam,” he says when he really feels like irritating the other man.

“You sure you’re ready for this, man?” Sam asks as they stand in front of storage unit 429.

“Yeah,” Buck says, punching in the key code and lifting up the door.  “Yeah, I’m ready.”  He flips the light switch on the wall, and is shocked by just how much stuff there is.  There’s boxes upon boxes upon boxes.

Sam’s hands go to his hips as he looks at it, whistling.  “Alright.  Let’s get it loaded.”

It takes several hours and three trips to get everything from the storage unit to the Tower, and by the end of it, the both of them just collapse on the couch with a couple of beers and a pizza to share between them.

But Saturday morning comes bright and early, and even though it’s his only day out of the week where he has absolutely nothing to do, Bucky knows he has to start going through her things.

The first four boxes are just clothes.  Clothes upon clothes upon clothes.  He finds a baby blue dress that she used to wear for church, starched to perfection, and he holds it to his chest for a long time.  He cries then.

And he knows that the fact that she’s hoarded so many clothes has a lot to do from growing up during the Depression.  He still finds himself falling into old habits of checking the price of food, despite the fact that he never has to worry about money again with his Avengers salary and the backpay from being a POW.

He finds his parents’ wedding rings, and the string of pearls his ma wore for special occasions.

And then he finds an old shoe box, and when he opens it up, he finds letters.  Letters upon letters upon letters.  They’re in bundles, tied together with fraying ribbon.  The paper is yellowed and soft from being folded and unfolded so many times, and he can see the looping black letters that covered the pages.

He takes the ones that look the oldest and unties them, he takes the top one from the stack and sets the rest to the side, before carefully unfolding it.

“Ruthie,” he says quietly as he reads the name at the bottom, not even bothering to read it yet.  “Ruthie…”  His eyes pop open as he suddenly remembers, remembers receiving letters everyday from a girl in the Bronx.  They were never romantic, but it was nice being able to write to someone and not having to hide how bad it was, like he had to with his ma and Becca.  She even sent her picture once, so he could know who he was writing to.  “Ruthie!”

He spends the rest of the day reading the letters, and passes out sometime around four in the morning with his face on a letter.  He takes the letters with him to his family’s graves the next day, reading to them after he replaces the flowers.

It takes him two more days to finish reading all the letters, in between breaks while training and staying up until he absolutely can’t.

He cries a lot while he reads it.  He’s not afraid to admit that.  But it’s nice to remember that he had a friend to listen to him during one of the worst times of his life.

Bucky’s almost afraid to look her up, to find out if she was still alive, and if he could go see her, to thank her.  They wrote back and forth until the day he fell off the train, and he knows that had to be pretty jarring for her.

But then Sam finds out about the letters—it would be hard for him not to, considering that he was walking around with his nose in the letters for days—and it’s all over.

Turns out, she’s alive.  She’s alive, and she’s still in Queens.

He goes the next Saturday, taking his bike all the way to the other borough.  He looks a little intimidating and extremely different from how he looked back then, but he hopes she recognizes him.  He really, really hopes she recognizes him, because otherwise this’ll be real awkward.

He stands in front of the door for a long time, taking his hands in and out of his pockets about eight times before he finally reaches up and knocks.

And then the door opens, and there’s Ruthie.

Well, not Ruthie, though at first glance, you’re the perfect picture of her.  You’ve got her hair and her eyes, and the curve of her lips.  But the nose is different.

“Can I help you?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.  You’re wiping your hand on a hand towel, peering at him like you recognize him from somewhere but you don’t know where.

“Hi, uh,” he says slowly.  His throat is suddenly so dry that he can barely talk.  “I’m Bucky.  Bucky Barnes.  I was pen pals with—”

He’s cut off by Ruthie herself appearing in the doorway.  She’s much older—she is ninety-nine, after all—but it’s definitely her.  “Did you say Bucky Barnes?”  The little old lady’s eyes widened as she saw him, her hand over her heart.  “Oh, my stars, it’s really you.  I heard about what happened to you, and I…”  She shakes her head, clicking her tongue.  “Why, it almost gave me a heart attack, you know.”

“Little Ruthie Pratt from Queens,” he says, reaching in his pocket and holding up the letters.  “I found these while, uh, going through my sister’s stuff.”

“I still have mine!” Ruthie says, pulling him inside.

It’s nice and homey and everything that Bucky had thought it would be.  The front foyer is covered in photos, and there’s quite a few of you.  You’re clearly one of Ruthie’s pride and joys, if the sheer amount of them has anything to do about it.

“I used to read these to my grandbaby here,” Ruthie says as she comes back with an old oak jewelry box in hand.  “Anytime she stayed the night—her parents worked a lot when she was growing up—she always asked me to read her one of my ‘Bucky letters.’”

“Grandmama,” you say, cheeks flushing as you avoid his eyes.

“It was so cute!  She used to recite them word for word along with me!” Ruthie teases as they go to the living room.

It’s quaint, with soft pastel colors dominating the room.  He sits on a floral sofa that’s got a circle with dark hair on it, the marking of a furry friend’s favorite spot.  He watches as you move to the kitchen, grabbing a pitcher of what looks like tea and a few glasses.

You sit beside her with the ease of knowing that you belong here, pouring yourself a glass.  “Grandmama, do you want some tea?”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she opens the box and looks for the oldest one.  “You keep that monstrosity away from me,” she says.  Seemingly remembering Bucky’s presence, she says, “My daughter’s husband is from Louisiana.  Ridiculous man got both her and my grandbaby addicted to that absolute sludge.”

The secret smile you give him as the two of you listen to her tirade about sweet tea makes him feel at ease, and sets the tone for the rest of the afternoon.

Things go on as normal, or as normal as they can.

And Marlene happens to think that all of this is absolutely fantastic for him.  She loves that he’s now spending time with Ruthie and you, reconnecting with his past while understanding that he doesn’t have to be the person he was in the letters.

He’s different.  He’s not the Bucky that Ruthie knew back then.

It’s an unusually warm day in November four months later when he takes you out for a coffee, just the two of you.  And it isn’t a date—really, it isn’t—but he finds himself wanting it to be about halfway through his second coffee.

And that’s why he starts talking about dating to Marlene, who had, quite frankly, been waiting for him to realize his feelings for a while.

“I think I’m in love with her,” he says as he storms into his therapy session, eyes wild and hair a disarray.  He’s clearly been worrying real hard about it.

Marlene looks up at him, peering over the silver rim of her glasses.  “Oh, really?” She says nonchalantly, as though she doesn’t have you in her notes about him.  “And why is that?”

Bucky can’t help the frown on his face as he realizes that she didn’t even ask who he was talking about, because she knew.  “I…  I don’t know,” he says, slumping into his usual chair.  “She makes me happy.  Happier than I’ve ever been.  And she always makes me laugh, even at the most inappropriate of times.”  His gaze softens the more he thinks about you.  “And she isn’t scared of me.  She doesn’t judge me.  She’s read about everything I did in the war, even before HYDRA, and she doesn’t care.”  His hands are sweating as he rubs them together.  “Actually, it’s not that she doesn’t care—she does care—but she cares because she… she loves me.”

You love him.  And sure, he knows that.  You’ve said that you love him multiple times, even if you only mean it as a friend way.

But the thought that he has someone who loves him that doesn’t have to is… groundbreaking.

“She loves me, and she wants me to be okay,” he says, looking up at Marlene then.

His therapist has a pleased look in her eyes, even if she won’t let it show with a smile.  “I think she’s good for you,” she says simply, her pen held loosely in her hand.  “Are you seeing her again soon?”

“I’m seeing her tomorrow night,” he says, his heart growing light.  “We’re grabbing a few drinks to celebrate her finally graduating from cosmetology school.”

It’s a big deal for you, completely something.  You’re smart, there’s no denying that, but when it comes to schooling…  You’d done well in high school, but college proved to be the bane of your existence.

You’d dropped out in the middle of your junior year, and that had been it.  You’d moved to Queens to live with Ruthie after, working various low level jobs and trying to find something that fit.

But you’d fit in at cosmetology school.  Hell, you excelled.  And you enjoyed it!  You enjoyed waking up in the morning and going to your classes!

You cried when you got your certificate, and it was now framed in Ruthie’s house until you start your first salon job in two weeks.

“Are you going to tell her about your feelings?” Marlene asks curiously.

Now that makes him pause.

“... Should I?” Bucky asks, feeling a wave of anxiety coming over him.  “What if she doesn’t feel the same way?  And she sees me as just a friend?”

“If she’s really your friend, she won’t abandon you just because you tell her you have romantic feelings for her.”

“You sure about that?”

Marlene fixes him with a look, raising one perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

He runs his tongue over his teeth.  “Fine.  You’re sure,” he says, slumping a little in his chair.  “Doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

She snorts, making a note on her pad.  “I never said it was going to be easy, Bucky.  Doesn’t mean it can’t be done.”

The next night, he spends an hour and a half trying to decide what to wear.  “It shouldn’t be this hard,” he grumbles as he switches shirts for the forty-ninth time.  “It’s just drinks.”

Sam, however, is having a great time watching his new best friend freak out over seeing a girl for the first time.  “I mean, she already agreed to going out with your ugly mug, man.  It’s not gonna matter what you wear.”

And in some way, that helps.  A little.

But he does have to threaten Sam with bodily harm if he spies on his date that’s not really a date.

He almost boxes him the ear when he insists for the fourth time that it’s a date.

He shows up at your door with a bouquet of flowers from Sal’s bodega, the buttons of his dark blue henley left open, exposing a smattering of chest hair.

When you open the door, the air is knocked from his lungs.  You look absolutely radiant.  The light from the sinking sun is giving you a halo-like glow, and he’s sure, not for the first time, that you’re an actual angel.

“Hi,” you say, a flush on your cheeks as you see the flowers.  “Are those…  Are those for me?”

He nods dumbly, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.  “Y-Yes,” he says, pushing them into your arms.  “As a congrats.  For, you know, graduating.  And stuff.”

“Thank you,” you say as you take them, handing them to Ruthie.

She’s standing just inside the door, a giddy look on her face as she holds the flowers, watching you take the motorcycle helmet from his hands.  “Have her back by twelve!”

“Grandmama!”

“Fine!  Twelve-thirty!”

You’re clearly embarrassed by her antics as he helps you on behind him, guiding your arms around his waist.

“You ready?” He asks, his voice breathy.

A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, wrapping your arms tighter around him as he starts the bike, taking off.

“She doesn’t actually mean that,” you say as he leads you into the tiny, out of the way bar.  You’re fixing your hair, trying your best to appear presentable.  “I’m grown, you know.  I don’t…  I don’t have a curfew.”

A slow smile spreads over his lips as he listens to you ramble.  “I know,” he says finally, figuring he should put you out of your misery.  “Ruthie does like to tease those she loves.”

The bar is quaint, clearly a local place that tourists haven’t invaded.  He leads you to a high table, calling out your order to the lone bartender.

“So, I—”

“I like you,” Bucky says, unintentionally cutting you off with a wince.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I really, really like you, and I really, really want this to be a date, but if you don’t feel the same way then I completely understand and we can just forget that I ever said anything and everything can just go back to normal and that might be the best thing because, quite frankly, I haven’t dated since the forties and I have no idea how dating is supposed to work nowadays, but I’d really like to try it with you but only if you—”

His rambling is cut off as you place your hand on his, intertwining your fingers.  “Okay,” you say, like it’s the easiest thing ever.  “It’s a date.”

He stares at you for an embarrassingly long time, his mouth dry.  “Uh…  What?” He says quietly.  His heart is pounding at an unnaturally fast pace, and he honestly thinks he might be on the verge of a heart attack.

“I like you, too,” you say, smiling at the bartender as he brings you over your drinks.  You look so beautiful, your eyes the brightest thing in the dim lighting of the bar.  “So this is a date.”

“Okay,” he breathes out, a wave of relief washing over him.  “It’s a date.”

He’s a little starstruck as you continue on with what you were going to say before, a pink blush dusting his cheeks.  Your hand stays in his for the rest of the night, occasionally giving a little squeeze as though you’re reminding him that you’re still there and you’re not going to disappear.

And it feels good.

And okay, Marlene may have been right.

And yeah, Fridays might be good.  But as he sits there with you until the late hours of the night, he’s sure: Saturdays are his new favorite day.  Because Saturdays brought him a new beginning when he wasn’t expecting it.

[autumnrory]

"then once i started seeing some posts that got into the issues with peggy’s character post endgame, that was mentioned and it’s like oh yeah that really was on her, she was in charge, she made that choice even if it’s not explicitly said" -> YUP. i saw ppl say it was just misogynist stuckes complaining. No, it's because ENDGAME ITSELF SHOWED US THAT SHE WORKED AT A QUASI-FASCISTIC BLACK SITE W ZOLA *RIGHT THERE* IN THE 70s (also it's harder to stomach intelligence agency propaganda these days).

ppl calling ANY criticism of a woman (real or not) misogynistic really does not help when trying to call out actual instances of misogyny skjdfjs i hate it y’all there are valid criticisms especially in this case

like i said in my post i’d never seen people talk about it before and like a lot of my views on peggy and her relationship with steve were based on the way like most fanfiction i’ve read framed it (that hydra infiltrating shield was something terrible that happened to her organization, not something that she caused and that she and steve had a Grand And Tragic Love Story, not just. crushes on each other)

but the thing is reading all that fanfiction isn’t a thing that applies to a lot of fans so i don’t know how THEY buy into these narratives because it’s not really what marvel was telling us. sure, we were reminded multiple times over the years of peggy’s existence, but the word love was never used, not that it HAD to be, but the only instance was agent carter, which was also as stupid as endgame saying it but at least agent carter was like, following the loss of steve so you could understand overdramatizing things and her calling him the love of her life, even though he wasn’t a love at all lmao. like post catfa, and even catfa itself, the mcu does not go on about this Tragic Romance, it’s like barely touched on that steve and peggy had this almost relationship, really, until endgame hits you over the head with it, so they can justify their bad ending. so why do fans believe it makes sense??? literally everything that makes peggy and steve’s relationship a bigger deal than it was is fanon, the mcu itself didn’t really do that. it’s why at the time i thought steve/sharon was so much weirder bc i bought into this from all the fic i read and now i’m like......yeah, idt they needed to write peggy and sharon as related to begin with, BUT it’s not actually that icky bc he and peggy didn’t date, she really kinda was “just a woman he kissed one time” no offense lmao

and re: peggy bringing in zola and how fic frames it like, “oh man how terrible” as if she isn’t responsible, i have to wonder if the mcu would’ve delved into any sort of blame if we’d gotten an actual cap 3 that followed up with the events of catws, i mean probably not, especially not by 2016 bc wasn’t that around the time disney bought marvel and like.......everything went downhill. i mean i know these superhero movies were always gonna have a certain narrative about the military and intelligence agencies but it sure seems to have gotten worse when disney came on

idk i’m rambling but yeah like, i do get how a lot of fans don’t acknowledge peggy’s flaws bc i myself hadn’t thought about any of it before or seen any of the discourse surrounding her character, really, but it’s just kind of like, like you said, they just think it’s stuckies being misogynistic or whatever, but once you see the conversation being had, how can you just brush it off and act like she can’t be criticized, she brought zola in, *steve voice* peggy, you CHOSE to do that, it’s literally her fault hydra took over lmao

[themadamespod]

Sharon Carter: A Study in Selfishness

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier spotlighted some hard truths. Beyond its real-world parallels, it’s changed our perspective on the MCU. And on the heels of the finale, we can’t help but reflect on how we got here.

It feels like ages ago that an alien invaded Earth believing it was his right to do so. This madman imposed his will upon a whole planet. He wielded god-like power over an entire species. He took the lives of countless people, leaving the rest to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. 

In doing so, he became one of the most beloved characters in the MCU.

So why is it that many of the people who adore a monster are now so disappointed with Sharon Carter?

Easy. Loki is a man. 

Angels and Demons

Relax, everybody. This is not an anti-Loki treatise. I’m writing this post with a Loki poster behind my chair, a Loki mug on my desk, and a Loki t-shirt on my back.

To be fair, it helps that the God of Mischief is played by one of the most charming, attractive men in Hollywood. But Emily VanCamp is no slouch. She’s a beautiful, talented actor who elevates any project. So why are people upset that she’s the Power Broker?

Women aren’t supposed to veer from familial or cultural expectations. 

Women aren’t supposed to put themselves first. 

Women aren’t supposed to seize power in a man’s world. 

The events of Civil War alone had a tremendous impact on the characters we love. Sam and Bucky’s respective ordeals changed them forever, and The Blip forced them to adapt even further. So many people are praising their growth in the TFATWS finale, and we’re among them. But it’s frustrating to then see comments like these:

“Omg wtf is wrong with Sharon? That is NOT who she is!”

“Since when is Sharon evil? That ain’t her.”

“Sharon is totally a Skrull. The Sharon we know would never turn her back on everything she stands for.”

Guess what, folks? Just like Sam and Bucky, the Sharon we once knew no longer exists. She, too, changed and grew - right out of the box that the patriarchy built for her. And people don’t know how to handle it.  

Double Standards

Misogyny is so deeply woven into the fabric of our society that a lot of people, women included, often don’t see it. But it’s in almost every facet of daily life, leaching into our brains like a toxin. And TFATWS called Marvel out on it by illustrating a simple fact:

Men and women who behave in the same way are treated very differently.

A man who tramples others for a promotion is ambitious. A woman is a conniving bitch.

A man who sleeps around is held up as a ladies’ man. A woman is looked down upon as a whore.

A man who logs extra time at the office is a good provider. A woman is neglecting her family. 

Despite centuries of fighting for our right to exist, women are still brainwashed to be and be seen as lesser than men. We’re expected to conform to roles meant to keep us subservient. We’re told that caring for others is more important than caring for ourselves. 

Sharon Carter received the same cultural programming. And it’s likely that she felt familial pressure (either explicit or implicit) to follow in Aunt Peggy’s footsteps, whether she wanted to or not. 

And follow she did.

Sharon joined S.H.I.E.L.D. She fought armed HYDRA agents. Then she sacrificed her life, her career, and her freedom for the greater good. And what did she get for it?

The same thing women always get when they put everyone else’s best interests ahead of their own. 

She got fucked. 

A Matter of Perspective

Let’s pretend the TFATWS finale had gone differently. The Power Broker is a previously unseen bad guy, a Wilson Fisk type. After the U.S. government branded her as a fugitive and the Avengers forgot her, Sharon has just been trying to survive in Madripoor.

Nonetheless, she helps Sam and Bucky neutralize Karli. Sam secures Sharon’s pardon and she reclaims her former post as a dutiful C.I.A. agent.

Talk about disappointing; that would be like watching a woman return to a man who beats her. 

In reality, Sharon is revealed as the Power Broker. After the people for whom she gave everything betrayed her, she built a lucrative business from scratch using a canny brain and the skills S.H.I.E.L.D. taught her.

Now for those who are incensed by Sharon’s turn because she’s selling weapons, please see Exhibit A:

Even after Tony Stark stopped manufacturing weapons for the U.S. government, he continued making them for S.H.I.E.L.D. If memory serves, he also created a sentient murder-bot that leveled a city before nearly annihilating mankind.

Tony’s intentions were noble, but that didn’t make him any less responsible for a humanitarian disaster. The Sokovians would have been well within their rights to demand Tony’s arrest and incarceration.

But we love Tony, so we don’t like to go there.

And speaking of the U.S. government, let’s be real. American politicians wouldn’t condemn Sharon for illegally selling weapons to dangerous groups. They’d condemn her for cutting into their own profits. 

If there’s one thing the U.S. government excels at, it’s creating and arming terrorists. Sharon’s just running their playbook.

Redefining Selfishness

In all fairness, some people’s disappointment over Sharon’s arc has nothing to do with sex and everything to do with heroism. For this discussion, see Exhibit B:

Ever since Steve Rogers got his happy ending with Peggy Carter in Endgame, the Marvel fandom has been divided into two camps.

Camp 1: Steve is a selfish bastard who abandoned his family, his country, and the world when they all needed him the most.

Camp 2: Steve did more than enough for his family, his country, and the world when they all needed him most and deserved his happiness.

I will always be a card-carrying member of Camp 2, which is one reason I exited my Endgame theater as a human ball of snot. 

Steve Rogers gave enough for his country even before he was defrosted. He liberated a POW camp behind enemy lines. He defeated Red Skull. He saved countless lives by crashing the HYDRA bomber into the arctic, sacrificing his own life in the process.

And when he was resurrected after 70 years, did he stop and smell the roses? Read a book on the beach?

No. He saved the world. Again, and again, and again.

It’s incredibly noble that a life with Peggy is all Steve wanted. Think about Michael Bay’s uber-patriotic Armageddon. Those roughnecks had quite the list of demands for saving the world, all of which seemed perfectly reasonable because, hello, they were saving the world. 

So what does this have to do with Sharon Carter? Well, if you’re in Steve Rogers Camp 1, you likely see Sharon as a selfish bitch. I’ll make the same argument in her defense:

She’s given more than enough for others. She has every right to now put herself first.

We as women need to redefine selfishness. It’s been weaponized against us for far too long. We have to reframe it as a positive concept whereby we simply make our needs a priority in our own lives. 

If more women embraced selfishness, we would be unstoppable. 

Oh, and if you’re in Steve Rogers Camp 2 but still disappointed in Sharon Carter, you’ve got some hypocrisy on your chin. Might want to wipe that off. 

A Final Note

Alice Walker, who knows a thing or two about feminism, once said, “The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any.”

When the name “Power Broker” was first dropped on The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, it felt cheesy. But now it seems like the perfect title for a woman who not only refused to give up her power, but actively sought more. 

Sharon Carter is unequivocally selfish, but that doesn’t make her evil or even wrong. 

It makes her one powerful woman. And we can’t wait to see her again. 

[teaandatale]

Hello I’m late to the party but pls tell me more about SteggyDiplomatic???

Late Reply to WIP Game 

Hehehe, I thought you might be the one to ask me about this one. SO, it’s not quite what you were thinking I’m sure, BUT congrats, you picked the one SUPER SECRET STEGGY FIC IDEA that I put on that WIP list.

Why super secret? Idk, my brain decides some fic ideas need to stay super hush hush until they are fully realized. Also because in my head this one is a saga, where I have literally have it in mind that there will be 3 Parts to this long fic. As is the preview here.

Also this one kind of goes real dark, so read on at your discretion.

Basic Synopsis: Peggy & Steve are both children of Diplomatic parents. Steve’s father is a particularly powerful politician. That’s how they meet, as children in some Diplomatic Day Care while at some UN Conference or Summit, or similar. Steve gets picked on by some of the other kids (Gilmore Hodge in particular) and Peggy, who is already a mouthy wise-cracking 6 or 7 year old, has paid attention enough to her brother and parents using big words to use them to her advantage. Because their parents work closely, they end up crossing paths more and more as the years go on. They also start sending each other pen pals letters when they are separated, developing their own code. They’re each others first crushes, and in their teens, while the Carters are in NYC for UN meetings, the unsaid things between them becomes an understanding. They go on a museum date and Peggy gives Steve his first kiss in Central Park. By the time they graduate high school, they’re pretty serious, to the point where Peggy decides to move to New York to attend college. The fic would follow their lives into adulthood, and their growing relationship.

Because Steve’s dad has a military background along with his political work, Steve ends up following in the “Family Business” in a somewhat SHIELD like organization... But one that definitely is quietly overrun by Hydra. Peggy also follows into Diplomatic work, and creates her own ties to SHIELD. There they meet Howard Stark much as we know him in canon, as well as the Jarvises. Steve & Peggy start to think about the future, carving one out for each other -- starting a family away from the Diplomatic life, away from NYC.

But then a series of tragic and mysterious events occur. Bucky’s unit gets targeted and he’s KIA. The organization’s Steve’s father runs, dark side begins to come to light. Then Steve’s mother contracts a mysterious illness and passes away. While Steve is grieving, Peggy starts to put together some pieces of intel, especially from her side of SHIELD. She knows something isn’t right about Steve’s father. And once she’s onto him, Steve’s father starts to sow seeds of doubt and poison Peggy’s image in his son’s eyes. Peggy fights it. Until she finds out she’s pregnant. But she never gets a chance to tell Steve. Whatever his father’s toxic influence strength, it’s taken hold in Steve, to the point of him saying he could never love her. Peggy, at her wit’s end, needing to regroup and figure out how to move forward with becoming a mother, leaves him a letter with the sonogram. Steve never opens it.

Flash forward to Part 2.

The Rogers men have done their part to isolate Peggy, Steve having been successfully radicalized by his father, taking his place as second in control, engaging in the heinous side of SHIELD. Months and months go by... And Steve eventually, away from the influence of his father, happens upon Peggy’s letter. He reads it, and whatever hate his father created melts away. She was pregnant. That’s what she had been trying to tell him that last time they met. Steve reevaluates everything Peggy had been trying to tell him about Steve, about his father. He confronts his father, carefully avoiding mention of the baby.

“You think I don’t know you knocked her up? If my efforts to make sure that bastard child isn’t miscarried didn’t work, she’ll still be stuck with the bastard of a bastard. Unmarried and a stain on her family. You will never see them. Never,” his father says. “Besides, do you really think she would want anything else to do with you? Not once she hears all the horrible acts that Steven G. Rogers took credit for. Oh yes son, I planned for all contingencies.”

It’s the first time Steve fights him directly, physically leaving scars on his father’s face and has the flee, branded a fugitive from justice now that his father has falsified Steve’s involvement and blasted it through all media.

Steve doesn’t care. He’s done with the family operation. Done with the toxic family that turned him against the love of his life. That was pregnant with his child. If he still had a child... He hopes so. He’s lost too many people already.

With Natasha & Sam’s help, after shaving his face and head and overall changing his appearance, he leaves for the UK, in hopes of tracking Peggy Carter down. Only there’s no trace of her. Or a child. Anywhere. She’s become a ghost.

In the middle of nowhere England, alone, tracking any lead he can find, he clutches Peggy’s letter to his chest, and hopes he can rectify this one day, to make amends for betraying the one person who always saw him for who he was. He keeps a low profile in shitholes in London, trying to find the Carter family, while avoiding his father’s radar. He starts to realize even Peggy had secrets he didn’t know about.

Years go by without a trace... Until there’s a scent on the trail...

Peggy’s kept this particular fake public safe house for years. And though she doesn’t really live in it, even in the dark, one night she knows something is not right. She fakes taking off her coat, setting down her purse until she’s got her weapon loaded. She can’t deny that her heart is in her throat. There, in the dark of the kitchen, a split second after she flips the light on, is Steve sitting at her table, hunched in the chair, jaw tight, and eyes of a wild animal. He’s grizzled, and looks dangerous. Even if she’s expected this to come, fearing this the second word got out that he went missing, she’s terrified. His mouth turns into a grimace letting out a single sound.

“Wh-”

Peggy aims her hidden weapon and shoots. His eyes go wide and he’s crying out in pain. She remains standing, tall and steady, gun at the ready. His fingers come up to feel the dart embedded in his neck.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Peggy,” she hears, each subsequent word more slurred than the one before. What shocks her most is his tone, hardly mad that she shot him, more annoyed than anything. It was the tone of Steve, her Steve, not the monster. He slumps over the top of the kitchen table. She blinks, watching him for a moment, hesitating until finally, a minute later, she calls Stark for reinforcements. She doesn’t cry, does not move an inch, not until the vehicle pulls up in the drive.

And... I’ll leave you there ;)

[statticscribbles]

Past Hope Pt 4/6

Summary: Reader/Steve Rogers; Reader is immortal and grows up with Steve, always wanting to be something more; but he goes in the ice and life moves on

The woman who shows up at the door is far too polished to be someone that lives in the area. She smiles and nods as you invite her in.

“I’m Peggy, Peggy Carter. I understand you’re friends with Steve Rogers?”

“Has something-“ Peggy nods slowly explaining the plane and the ice. You bite down on your lip till is bleeds and try to smile at her when she asks if you’re all right. You nod wiping at your face and you catch the grimace, as she sees the ring.

“Oh we weren’t, it wasn’t. I’m just holding onto it is all. Safe keeping.” You try to smile again but Peggy pulls you into a slightly stiff hug.

“Y/N, I came here for another reason as well. To offer you a job. If you want.”

“What sort of job?”

“To work for me as-“

“I’d love to.”

“Really? You haven’t heard anything about it yet.”

“I don’t have much here I want to stay with.” Peggy nods in understanding and hustles you out into a car after she helps you pack a few things. You keep Steve’s sketchbook against your chest refusing to open it for now.

You’ve been Peggy’s assistant and secretary for months when she slides a folder towards you. You tilt your head at the file within, details about Project Insight and half of a serum recipe.

“You in Y/N?” You frown looking up and watching her as she explains.

“We’ll give you a serum like his, if it doesn’t work, nothing will change about you. But if it does; you’ll be as the scientists call it an ‘unrivaled asset’” Peggy beams when you say yes. The machine they hook you up too is nothing more than a very intense looking IV drip. The chair however looks straight out of a horror movie, clamps and thick leather bands ready to restrain you. You’re assured its for your safety and as your strapped in you cant help the fear you feel as the scientist straps some sort of mask over your face.

“Just in case. Now start the infusion.” You just feel warm for a second, and spike of heat in your arm as the serum trickles in. You can’t feel it coursing through your blood stream but you feel a sense of dread settling in your stomach. You leg starts to cramp a slow ache that builds up until all your limbs are convulsing and you’re howling in pain. The pain dulls as they remove the restraints and clamps and as you sit up, you can feel something twisting in your stomach before you vomit onto the floor. You look up groggily and Peggy offers a sheepish smile.

“Guess it didn’t work then.” You shake your head. You realize this is an opportunity to tell Peggy about your powers. You ask to talk to her in her office.

“You sure it didn’t work?”

“Yes I just, I had, well have powers, before what just happened.”

“Oh? What can you do?” Peggy leans forward.

“I can heal myself faster than normal, and I don’t think I can die.”

“Don’t think?”

“Haven’t been in many near death experiences.” You shrug, shuffling the handful of papers you hold.

“Yet. How would you feel about becoming an agent?” Peggy writes you into the founding of SHIELD after that. You’re not sure how she manages but it seems everyone who works there does not question your involvement in almost every part of the business. Of course as SHEILD gains more departments you settle on working the information and filing systems. Keeping yourself busy and as anonymous as you can as the other agents change in front of your eyes. You cry when Peggy steps down. The man who takes over for her calls you into his office.

“Ms. Carter has informed me of your unique situation. Rest assured I wouldn’t let it get out to anyone, as far as the others can tell you’re just a damn good secretary, unless you’d prefer another position?” You shake your head and he smiles dismissing you.

You settle working back in the filing system keeping your head down and barely talking to any of the other agents. When Nick Fury steps up and a few years later you meet Maria and Phil you talk more to them. This is due to them being nosy more than you wanting to talk, as time goes on you open yourself up more, still the thought of outliving them never far from your mind.

“Did you hear about Captain America?” Phil’s excitedly moving around the office. Maria rolls her eyes but you can tell she’s excited as well.

“Yes! Do you think he’ll agree to the suit though? It’s a massive responsibility and a huge adjustment, what with being thrown into the public eye and all. Not to mention everything he’d have to learn. Oh god can you imagine the history he’d have to catch up on.” You ignore the talk, you try to avoid thinking of Steve, and how they had never found his body. You push the thought back and settle back into your next report review.

“I still can’t believe they’ve convinced someone to play Cap again. Pretty big shoes to fill!” You chirp on your way to get coffee. Hoping it’ll be enough to avoid talking about it anymore.

“Y/N that’s not what-“ You rush off ignoring the shout Coulson gives. You get back to your desk; both Maria and Phil are gone, having returned to their positions. You glance at Phil’s report from his trip to the artifact recovery sector, you don’t bother reading it, just checking the date he signed it, pushing it into your finished pile. You never had to correct any of his documents anyways.

“Y/N, we still on for drinks?’ Sharon leans over your desk; you look past her blonde hair envisioning brown curls.

“Course Carter, its tradition after so many years.” You leave out the tradition you started with her aunt and instead let her talk about the new Captain America. You try not to say anything, your hands twisting the ring around your finger nervously.  You can still remember Steve’s voice; Peggy hadn’t given you any letters he’d written when she took you on, awkwardly confirming he hadn’t received most if any of your letters. Peggy had insisted he had written and it had probably gotten scrambled in the mail during he war. After she stepped down you’d found the box of his letters, stamped, ready to be sent but unsealed.

You still haven’t opened them; they sit under your bed in a waterproof box. You’d though about donating them to a museum pretending to be an anonymous donor. You’d wonder what they’d have said about how well preserved they were. You’d been so good about not letting your powers slip, so instead you kept them safe under your bed, along with his sketchbook. You’d only looked through the first few pages, sketches of his mother, a few pieces of fruit, and Bucky looking either bored or angry filled the pages.

“So what do you think about it? Pretty wild huh? They said they found the actual shield he used. Which is crazy. I mean the whole thing is crazy right?” You nod, pretending to be amazed by whatever it is she had said. You shake your head trying to clear your thoughts of Steve. He’s dead and gone, somewhere in the arctic frozen and alone.

Phil calls you into Fury’s office first. They both sit, watching you as you settle in the chair.

“Phil has been informed, we’ve opened your file and we need to fill in some missing information. Ms. Carter, Peggy that is, has written here you have a connection to Steve Rogers. Is that true?”

“Yes sir. We knew each other back before he was Captain America, before the war, I lived next door to him.”

“Good, you can help him adjust to the new world then. Fill him in on everything he’s missed.”

“Sir, I knew Steve Rogers, not whoever this fake Captain America is.” You hear the door open and Phil smiles, turning as Fury coughs slightly.

“When you say knew him?” Fury prompts. You squeeze your eyes shut sighing and looking back up, you know you’re probably about to cry but you shrug it off.

“He never knew I was in love with him if that’s what you want.”

“Well at least you’ll get another shot at that.”

You can’t help the laugh that spills from your mouth.

“What?”

“You really think I’ll get with the fake Captain you have? I fell in love with Steve Rogers, not his suit.”

“Real glad to know your feelings on that matter.”

“You even sound like him, I bet-“ You turn around breath catching in your throat looking at Steve standing in the room.

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[angelqueen04]

Hamliza Month, Day 12

@megpeggs @historysalt

Tryst Summary: Eliza knows she’s about to do something improper. The thing of it is - she doesn’t really care. Note: This entry is set in the same story-line as Day 10: Reunion, set several hours later.

Eliza stared at the closed door in front of her, gathering her nerve. It was quite late. The servants had all retired for the evening, and Eliza had already seen Cornelia off to bed. There was no one in the front hall to see her standing outside of the guest chamber that had been made ready for Alexander’s use, a folded quilt draped over her arm.

This wasn’t proper, she knew that. While her parents tended toward indulgence of their children, they most certainly would have drawn a line at one of their daughters being alone in a bedchamber with a man, even if they were engaged and to be married within the next week or two. Eliza knew very well that her mother would have been horrified that Eliza was even contemplating such an action.

The thought of her parents’ reaction did not serve as a deterrence, however. Eliza narrowed her eyes as she continued to eye the door, and she straightened to her full height. This wedding was for her parents’ sake. They had been deprived of witnessing Angelica’s wedding because of her elopement with Mr. Carter, and so they had turned their frustrated hopes and plans upon Eliza’s marriage. Eliza had agreed to it, if only for the sake of peace in the family, but truth be told, she would have gladly married Alexander months ago in that military camp before an army chaplain.

And really, if something did happen, did her parents have any room to complain, considering their own conduct in their youth?

Now feeling sufficiently justified in her actions, Eliza determinedly stepped forward and knocked on the door before she lost all of her courage and bolted back upstairs to her own room like the good girl she had been raised to be.

There was a faint shuffling inside the room, but after a moment, Alexander called out, “Come in.”

Swallowing past the sudden tightness in her throat, Eliza turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. She stepped inside, and quickly found Alexander. He sat at the small table, his spectacles perched on his nose as his pen flew over a sheet of paper in front of him. She quickly noticed that he had stripped himself down to just his linen shirt, his boots, and his trousers. The shirt fell open at the neck, giving her a faint glimpse of his chest, and her heart began to pound.

Alexander must have noticed that something was amiss when she did not speak, because he stopped writing and looked up. Upon seeing her, his eyes lit up in surprise. “Betsey? I thought surely you would have retired by now.”

Eliza cleared her throat, inwardly scolding herself for acting like a ninny. Stepping further into the room, she moved closer to the bed. “I brought you another quilt,” she told him, moving to lay it at the foot. “It can be quite drafty in here in the colder months, even with the fire. Papa has had work done on this room for years, and yet no one can never quite get it right,” she said. Before she could stop herself, she babbled on, “I suspect he will eventually stop using this room as a guest chamber and will find some other use for it and –”

Alexander’s gentle laugh cut her off and she turned to look at him again. He’d laid his pen down now, and had also removed his spectacles, dropping them carelessly onto the table. “Thank you, dearest,” he said in a low, soft tone.

Eliza could feel heat creeping up her cheeks as his gaze lingered on her. While part of her delighted in his attention, another part could not help but feel nervous. Trying to hide her anxiety, she turned her attention back to the bed. Next to the quilt she had just placed there sat Alexander’s blue officer’s coat. Impulsively, she picked it up, intending to hang it on one of the pegs in the corner of the room. As she did so, Eliza spotted a few tears and frayed edges. “Oh,” she said, “I can fix those! I –”

Suddenly, Alexander was there, mere inches from her. How had he moved so fast, and so quietly? Eliza marveled as he carefully took the coat from her hands and tossed it on a nearby chair. “It’s fine, Betsey,” he said, his voice still pitched low and quiet. He took her hands in his and raised them to his lips.

Eliza wondered if this was what it felt like to be a rabbit caught in a snare. She felt caught in Alexander’s gaze, unable, even unwilling, to look away again. When he lowered her hands, he continued to hold them in his own, brushing his thumbs over her fingers. She could feel herself growing ever warmer from the contact.

“When I saw you today, it was like seeing the sun for the first time in years,” he said. “I thought I was dreaming, for how could someone so fair be real?”

She raised an eyebrow, and shook her head. “I was a mess,” she protested. “Completely unfit to be seen!”

But he was adamant. “You were beautiful,” he maintained, and then he grinned at her. “You’re still the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld.”

“Flatterer,” she chided, but with no heat.

Alexander shrugged, completely unapologetic. “I’ve missed you so much these past months,” he told her. “You’ve occupied my thoughts so often that I was the subject of much teasing among the other officers.”

Eliza laughed. He had hinted as much in his letters to her, that she was distracting him even in their separation.

“And oh,” Alexander continued, “I had little to console me, since you wrote to me so infrequently!” He reached out, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. Then he leaned closer and whispered, his breath hot against her ear, “Did I not tell you I would punish you for such delinquencies?”

She shivered. It was true, he had said as much in one of his many letters. Eliza did not deny that she to wrote him far less frequently then he did to her, but there were perfectly logical reasons for that. Since Angelica’s marriage, it had fallen on Eliza and Peggy both to be their mother’s help-meets in seeing to the management of the household, and that occupied much of her time. There was also the preparations for their own marriage to consider. Much of the summer had been full of sewing, embroidering, and filling her hope chest with items that would come with her when she and Alexander established their own home.

However, that had not kept her imagination from running wild over the hints and promises Alexander had expressed in his letters. “There was much to do,” was all she managed to say.

He did not step back. Instead, his lips left her ear to brush along her cheek, moving closer to her lips. He did not kiss her, however, even though she ached for him to do so and he well knew it. Eliza could see the knowing glint in Alexander’s eyes. He was deliberately denying her.

“Much to do?” he repeated in a murmur. “So much to do that you had no time to think of me?”

Eliza shook her head. “I didn’t say that,” she replied. “I thought of you every day.” Oh, she had. And not all of it was fear for his safety. More than once, she had poured over his letters, reading them over and over again. She had devoured his words of love, but it had been the undisguised passion that had most occupied her. Alexander was explicit in his wishes and promises for their life together as man and wife, and his expressions had left her flushed and breathless more than once as Eliza imagined him keeping those promises.

“Did you, now?” Alexander asked. He leaned his forehead against hers, and Eliza’s skin prickled. He smiled slowly, knowingly. “And just what did you think, my charmer?”

Eliza knew herself to be naturally impulsive. It was why she was here now, in Alexander’s room, knowing what could very well happen. But this teasing was going to drive her mad if it did not end soon. And judging by the smirk on his face, Alexander knew it. Yet still he persisted in playing with her.

Narrowing her eyes, she replied boldly, “I thought of you, like this… and more.”

Alexander’s eyes widened at her forwardness, clearly surprised, and Eliza seized on the chance to turn the tables on him. Tugging her hands free of his, she slid them up his arms and to his shoulders. She could feel his hard, fit body beneath his linen shirt, could feel just how warm that body was, and it thrilled her. “I thought of your hands,” she continued, her voice lowering, “touching me.”

The comment was a command, and they both knew it. Obediently, his hands came to rest on her waist.

“I thought of your lips,” Eliza added. Now her tone dropped to just above a whisper as she closed what little distance remained between their bodies. “Kissing m –”

Eliza couldn’t really be certain who kissed whom. All she knew was that suddenly, their lips met with an urgency that sent a shock through her body. Was this what the scholars called ‘electricity’? Was this the substance that Dr. Franklin had studied? She didn’t know any of that, but Eliza did know that she wanted to feel it again and again, for the rest of her life, at Alexander’s hands.

She was so consumed by her desires that it did not register to Eliza that Alexander had nudged her into moving until she felt the backs of her skirt and legs brush up against the bed. She didn’t hesitate to sit – her knees were trembling so much they would not have held her upright for much longer anyway – and she kept a firm grip on Alexander’s shirt, ensuring that he followed her.

Goodness, but Alexander was good at this. Eliza could not claim any extensive knowledge about kissing, and thus had little prior experience with which to compare him to, but this… this was wonderful. His lips were a little chapped, but the sensation of them moving against her own was amazing and –

Oh! There was that his tongue teasing along the seam of her lips?! None of the few boys she had kissed in her younger days had ever tried something like this! Nor had Angelica ever mentioned any such thing! Eager to know more, Eliza parted her lips, happy to follow Alexander’s lead.

The sensation was not something Eliza had the words to describe. She could only feel, could only revel in it. She could only follow her body’s urgings, and so tightened her grip on Alexander’s shirt again and allowed herself to fall back fully onto the bed, bringing him down on top of her. His weight pressed her against the mattress.

In time, the need for air caused them to part, and Eliza found herself staring into Alexander’s eyes. They had a bright, almost feverish shine to them and his breath came in deep gasps. “My God, Betsey,” he groaned, dropping his head against her shoulder, “you are a sorceress! You’ve bewitched me!”

Eliza ran her fingers through his hair, tugging it loose from the ribbon holding it place. She was no witch, she knew. She was simply a woman in love with a man. She told him as much, and he laughed. “Oh yes, ‘tis love that has driven us to this point!” And then his lips were on hers again.

She could say without reservation that she loved kissing Alexander Hamilton, and she loved everything else that seemed to come with it. Eliza shuddered in delight as his own fingers began to run through her hair, knocking her cap loose and freeing the pins that held her dark locks in place.

It was around then that she noticed that her body was moving against him, nearly of its own accord. And if she was any judge, it was having an effect on Alexander. His hips were nudging against her thigh, and she could feel the evidence of his desire.

Eliza was a virgin, of course, but she was not unaware of what went on between men and women. She was the second child of a large family. Her youngest sibling was only four years old, and there was still yet another one on its way! It was no mystery that her parents enjoyed a loving, physical relationship. What was more, her mother seen to it that all three of her eldest daughters were educated in the mechanics of the act of physical congress. “The more you know,” she had told them, “the less frightening it will be when you begin your wifely duty. And if you’re wise enough in your choice of husband, you’ll be in the hands of a man who will care about your pleasure as much as his own.”

 Eliza couldn’t say for certain if Angelica had chosen wisely, for her sister did not share that much detail about her married life, but she had never seen any signs of unhappiness whenever Angelica looked upon Mr. Carter. In any case, Eliza knew that she had definitely chosen rightly.

She shifted beneath Alexander, trying to slide one of her legs further under him, so that she might cradle his hips between her legs. But it was difficult, thanks to her cumbersome skirts and petticoats, and she almost growled in frustration.

The movement caught Alexander’s attention, and he pulled back from her, looking down. “Ah,” he said. He hesitated, indecision crossing his features for a moment, only to then be washed away by resolve. Then he rolled off of her completely, sitting up on the bed beside her.

Confusion filled her. Why was he stopping? She didn’t want to stop, and she could tell he didn’t either. What was going on? “Alexander?”

He turned toward her. He must have seen her mystified expression, because offered her a reassuring smile. “I think it best we stop now, Betsey.”

There was no hiding the regret in his tone. “Why?” she demanded. “We are engaged! Our marriage will happen within the next few weeks! Why should we deny ourselves what we both want?”

“I do want you, my love,” Alexander agreed, leaning back down on the bed beside her and resting his weight on one of his arms. He brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. “I want you more than I have ever wanted anything else in all my life.” He kissed her forehead, a gesture more tender and soothing than passionate. “But I will not have anyone casting aspersions by sniggering about how I could not wait until we said our vows to claim you.”

There was something in his voice, something that made her wonder. “Who would dare say that?!” she said, suddenly furious. “No one in society would dare so much as whisper such a thing, not when so many couples from all walks of life have been known to anticipate their wedding night! My own parents –”

“I know, darling,” Alexander said, cutting her off as he caressed her cheek. “But it is a new world we are entering. The war won’t last much longer, and if we can hold out, we will have a new nation to build. One that is far more integrated than the colonies are now. Society in Albany and New York might not think much of such things, given longstanding customs, but what about a larger society, one that draws together people from other regions, who would have different views? People that we will have to stand and consort with?”

Eliza stared at him. She had not thought of such a thing. And part of her didn’t care to. What did she care what some impertinent dandy from South Carolina might think? And what business of theirs would it be if she took her betrothed to bed before their wedding ceremony? It was no one’s affair but their own.

But as she gazed up in his eyes, she could see Alexander’s resolve growing. He would not be moved, no matter how she pressed him. He had regained control of himself, and he wouldn’t be ruled by his instincts any longer.

Disappointment filled her, but Eliza resigned herself to it. “Very well,” she said, conceding the argument and looking away. “If you think it for the best, then we shall go no further.” She sat up then, pushing herself toward the edge of the bed, intending to leave him and return upstairs to the room she shared with Cornelia.

He likely sensed her distress, because Alexander followed her movement, sitting on the edge next to her and catching her before she could stand up to depart. “Hey,” he said softly as he caught her hands, urging her to turn in his direction.

She didn’t want this to turn into an argument, so she gave in and looked at him, letting him see her sadness. But as she looked at him more closely, Eliza could see Alexander’s own sense of upset, could see just what the decision was costing him as well. But neither of them said anything, and Alexander leaned forward to kiss her one last time. She met him halfway, pouring the last of her passion into it, letting him feel just how much she desired him. Perhaps it was petty of her, but Eliza wanted him to know what he was resisting, what he was giving up until the work of gathering her many, numerous relations was done.

It was Alexander’s turn to shudder under the force of her emotions. When they parted, he sighed, “Oh, you naughty minx, how you tempt me.”

Eliza smirked, and then rose up to go. Her cap had fallen from her head and onto the bed, so she reached out and took it. She didn’t bother trying to put it back on, knowing her hair was probably in quite the state. Instead, she said, “Goodnight, Alexander.”

“Goodnight, Eliza,” he replied. She had almost made it to the door when he spoke again, halting her in her tracks. “Eliza?”

She looked back over her shoulder questioningly, and found him giving her a wicked, mischievous grin. “If it helps, my darling, think of the wait as the punishment I promised you.”

Eliza blinked, not understanding him at first. But then their previous conversation returned to her and a mixture of indignation and amusement shot through her. Impulsively, she turned to face him fully and, after balling up her cap in her hands, she threw it at him. The material was thick enough that it had enough weight to go the distance, and it hit him square in the forehead.

She left then, grinning as she closed the door behind her on the sound of Alexander’s laughter.

-----

Just FYI, if you've ever visited the Schuyler Mansion, the room I've given to Alexander is now, I think, set up as the dining room. There is a YouTube video located here that covers a tour of the mansion, and the historical interpreter talks about how, in earlier years, that room may have been a bedchamber before it was transformed. That suited my purposes perfectly for this story, so I ran with it.

[sleeplessincairo]

[ dating bucky barnes would include: ]

warnings: a somewhat vague sexual outline and a few cusses

///

Him walking around with a notebook everywhere. Bucky got the idea from Steve when he saw him writing new things to his modern day to-do-list, so Bucky decided to do the same except fill his notebook up with his old memories instead; anything he could remember from his life before being The Winter Soldier. At first, there were only a few pages filled but as his life starting to include domestic and mundane-as well as a healthy environment-activities, he started having spontaneous and soon-to-be-frequent flashbacks that, later on, contributed to dozens of notebooks filled with not The Winter Soldier, not Prisoner #56898, not White-Wolf, but James Buchanan Barnes.

You never mentioned the notebook to Bucky nor asked to read it-Bucky was a private person, and you understood and respected that-but you still started carrying a pen with you, just in case he ever needed one.

At first, the notebook(s) was/were filled with solely memories of his past-No matter how insignificant. Whether it was that time the toilet got clogged in his shabby little apartment and had to stay with Steve and Sarah Rogers for a week because he couldn't afford a plumber or that time he lost his shoe in bar brawl and some swanky chrome-dome gave him a few bucks to buy some shoes and a sock without a hole in it. He wrote everything his mind could clearly grasp. But as the two of you got closer, he started filling it with memories he had with/of you because-even if he would never admit it-you made him feel right at home.

You may or may not have stolen his dog tags from the Smithsonian museum just as a reminder that even after all the pain, despair, manipulation, and torture he still managed to be the good person he was all those years ago. He was still James Barnes, local heartthrob that volunteered at the soup kitchen during his free time, that fought a war and lost an arm during the process, that dreamt of flying cars and a future without all fights and wars, that had a soft spot for a certain trouble-attracting boy whose heart was too big for his body.

“Jesus doll, I didn’t know I was dating a thief.” “Oh James, I thought you’d already realized that when I stole your heart from right under your nose.”

Bucky’s not big on talking or directly verbally professing his love, but that’s okay; His eyes tell you everything. There was always something about Bucky’s eyes that were so mesmerizing, so captivating, you could instantly tell how he was feeling. Before you, his eyes resembled a pale arctic blue that were as cold as glaciers-His eyes were hollowed and empty, scratched raw from any emotion but your growing presence thawed them out, they warmed through the cold exterior of what was once The Winter Soldier and reminded you that the hottest fires burn blue.

He does, however, reference quite a few interesting slang choices from the 40′s, which is his own little way of demonstrating verbal affection, ranging from calling you ‘Doll’ & ‘Sweetheart’ to calling you ‘The Cat’s Meow’ & ‘Butter and Egg Fly’

He’s never been very invested in hygiene. It never really was something important for him since he was in the Army and BO was a pretty normal thing, and then he became The Winter Soldier and HYDRA never exactly gave him a bathtub-Not that he was in the right mindset to to care about it anyway-So you usually have to remind him to shower everyday-Not that you mind, it would usually end with the both of you showering together and you having the opportunity to wash his hair yourself.

Soon enough, Bucky gets real invested in hygiene, he starts reading about self-care routines, exfoliating, conditioning, and gets completely hooked. Secretly, he does it because he likes the routine, something mundane and fixed to do to keep him busy.

You’re the only one that gets to call him James. Something about the way you say it warms his heart, he’d focus completely on the way your mouth moves as you say it-It reminded him of the way his mother would say his full name before busting his chops about coming home all dirty but then later ruffling his thick hair and offering a plate of strawberry jam sandwhiches, or how the word was always lurking in the dark corners of his mind like the silhouette of a ghost he couldn’t seem to recognize until you brought it to life.

Him always reaching out for your hand when he feels out-of-place, outside, or honestly just all the time because it helps him feel secure and grounded.

Steve third wheeling the both of you all the time. No seriously, literally all the time. He spends more time in the apartment you and Bucky share more than his own to the point where you and Bucky wonder if he actually has one. 

Steve has a key to your place-Even though, the both of you never gave him a key in the first place-and has a habit of interrupting the both of you or walking in on the worst possible moments.

“Hey guys, what are ya doi-Oh...Sorry I didn't know-Buck, you don't need to throw-Jesus, okay, okay I’m going.”

“Who the hell does it look like I’m doing, Steve.”

Bucky being very insecure about his arm, he even refuses to touch you with that arm-Subconsciously, he’s afraid he’ll accidentally hurt you. At first, he only ever wears long-sleeved shirts and a glove even on the hottest days as if he’d somehow forget that there was a metallic limb under all the cotton, but slowly like molasses he starts accepting it. He starts wearing open finger gloves, then discarding the gloves, then wearing 3-quarter sleeves, then short-sleeved shirts, then sleeveless shirts, then finally feeling comfortable enough to take off his shirt in front of you which leads to a night filled with discarded clothing, the sounds of soft murmurs and reassurances, the rolling of each other’s names off each other tongues like a prayer, and the rustling of the blanket against the delicate movement of your intertwined bodies skin-on-skin, skin-on-metal as the both of you unravel thread by thread in each other’s arms.

Truth is, you love his metal arm, you love the way it’s cool against your warm cheek on hot summer nights, you love the splashes of light that kiss it every morning making it sparkle, you love the soft and soothing whirring noises it lets out breaking the silence in your room, you love it because it’s a part of him and God knows how much you love everything about this man.

Despite being the assassin that killed JFK, managed to get away with it, and mind boggle conspiracists for decades he’s a bit clumsy. He has a habit of accidentally breaking things and later on, not telling you about it.

"James Buchanan Barnes, I thought I developed super strength-and even asked Stark to do some tests on me, but apparently you just happened to forget to mention and explain why the fuck doors are falling off their hinges!"

Losing sleep with Bucky. He tends to have very frequent and graphic nightmares which leads to various panic attacks and the inability to sleep, and you're more than happy to stay up with him and comfort him. Sometimes you’d talk while he listened and watched the way your lips moved or the way the pony tail you had gone to bed with loosened and hundreds of strands escaped the grasp of the hair band or the way a yawn would escape your lips and your hand would momentarily rise to cover your mouth but get lazy halfway, other times you’d lay in each other’s arms in complete silence while you traced patterns on his chest and trail kisses across his skin.

You being his anchor. You holding him tightly and assuring him that he’s okay, that you're here, that you're real, that he’s out, that he’s safe, and many other tender 3-worded sentences uttered over and over again like a mantra until he’s murmuring them back into your chest. 

Sometimes, when he has really bad nightmares and panic attacks you grab his notebook and start reading the memories out loud while you lay his head on your lap and run your hand through his hair in a calming manner until he calms down. It soon becomes a regular thing where you read him a memory before he goes to bed like a bedtime story.

Bucky Barnes is a man who was tortured and tormented for years, a man whose life was ripped right from his very arms along with his very own arm, a man who has gone through a long and unforgettable journey where he has learned to cope, grow, accept, and embrace himself and now he’s made it his mission to encourage and help others to do the same, whether they're struggling with their sexuality, amputation, mental illness, gender, or general self-acceptance.

You educated him about women’s rights because things are a lot different then in the 1940s; women are no longer obligated to get married, cater to a man’s every whim, have children, and other traditional gender roles. At first, Bucky’s very confused and doesn't understand why feminism is so important-I mean, lets face it, Bucky was raised in a traditional society and was later on manipulated to being a bloodthirsty assassin and now suddenly, he can think on his own and his life has turned completely upside down from thinking his own thoughts without HYDRA around to thinking past social constructs and norms so its normal for him to be a bit weary. However, you're there to explain thoroughly about how unjust society still is and how women may have won a few battles but still have a war to fight in a society where they are hyper-sexualized, mistreated, and controlled, and Bucky immediately thinks of Peggy Carter and how the men used to catcall her, how they raked her body with inappropriate stares, how she was ignored and seen as a pretty face, and then he finally understands. 

Dozens of articles about mysterious beatings of assaulters around New York.

His metal arm is decorated with dozens of pins, magnets, and stickers of all the movements he supports. Oh man, you should see him during Women’s marches and Pride fairs, considering all the black he usually wears seeing him dressed in bright colors or a pink shirt that says ‘On Wednesdays, we destroy the patriarchy’. It’s a sight that truly belongs in the history books.

Bucky breaking hold of the toxic masculinity he was subjected to in the 1940s and advocating for men to be able to display their God-given emotions freely, to not feel obligated to put on a tough guy front, to telling boys its okay to cry, to feel, to act, to wear, and to be whomever they please to be. 

Bucky visiting youth centers and giving advice and support to the kids there. Every kid he meets reminds him of Steve, whether its in their stubbornness, taste for trouble, lostness, or the glimmer of potential he sees in every single one of them. He remembers every single name of the teenager he meets and later on, uses them as a mantra whenever he’s undergoing a panic or anxiety attack as well as use SHIELD’s equipment to check up on them every once in a while.

Bucky going to children’s hospitals every week to cheer up the little kids there. He ends up being quite the inspiration and their ‘Favorite Superhero’ for the kids with amputations there and they end up being one of the very few people who are allowed to touch his metal arm. Something about the way their eyes shine with hope and their hands melt at the feeling of the metal warms his heart and his insecurities.

[3pirouette]

Fic: 40 Weeks (1/1)

Title: 40 Weeks By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette Spoilers: First Avenger, that’s it. Disclaimer: They're not mine. Word Count: 4601 Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Rated teen to mature due to content.

Story Summary: Every week farther away from him is a week closer to a new beginning.

A/N: For Steggy Bingo Bash Sentence Prompt: “I have eagerly been awaiting the day I could finally meet you… and I am not disappointed. You are beautiful.” Also, I’m sorry. Set during CA:TFA. 

TW: while I hate to give away the plot, this story is about Peggy dealing with an unplanned pregnancy while believing Steve is dead after going down on the Valkyrie. This may be a sensitive subject for many, please read or skip accordingly for your own mental health.

I have never been pregnant. ALl info is from the internet. 

Also, I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. This made me cry. You’ll probably need tissues.

~*~ Week 0

He’d almost died.

It was all she could think of as she pressed her body into his, their lips meeting with force, battling to be dominant, the air charged with lust and fear and relief as they shed their clothes as quickly as they could.

Every time she closed her eyes she saw it: she saw the way the tank aimed at him, how his shield barely made it up in time to deflect the load from the great barrel, how it exploded and pushed him back in a way he didn’t expect, how he landed near the great rotating treads, shocked, and his head just an inch away from disaster as the tank rolled forward before Dugan slid in and pushed him farther under where the treads could do no damage.

He couldn’t hear her when they finally triumphed, blood slipping from his ear. He looked shocked, dazed. She’d never seen him like that before.

Even small, before the serum, he’d seemed invincible to her. This reminded her that even Captain America could die.

He could hear her now as she moaned his name, his lips slipping against the flesh between her legs, licking and nipping and biting as she fisted her hands in his hair, pulling him up to her. That realization had made her feel lost, broken, and she needed him in a way she’d never needed anyone before. The touch of his hand was too little, the wrapping of his arms around her in a simple hug not enough. She’d slipped them into an empty supply room, locked the door, and pressed him against it. “I won’t let either of us die without knowing what it’s like to love one another.”

He’d held her face in his hands, gentle, and tried to reassure her. “That’s not going to happen. I won’t let that happen.”

She hadn’t argued with him, didn’t have it in her to play devil’s advocate. Instead, she kissed him. Surprising him, it took a moment for him to kiss her back, for him to let them melt together, but slowly his body started to vibrate on the same frequency hers was, it started to pick up on her need and desperation and it left them as they were now, him clutching her shoulders, sliding inside her sloppily as she balanced on the edge of an old desk, her legs wrapped around his hips and her lips marking him at his collar bone.

It was quick and frenzied, sloppy and amateur, but Peggy couldn’t help but feel a little more put together, a little more reassured as they lay on the creaking table, his head pillowed on her breasts, the both of them gasping for breath.

“I love you, Peggy Carter,” Steve whispered, kissing the flesh closest to him, “and I’m never letting you go.”

“And I love you,” she croaked out, her voice raw. She tangled her hands in his sweaty hair, her heart pounding in her chest. “But you and I both know that neither one of us is in control of what happens during this bloody war.”

He pressed up on his arms, hovering over her, his dog tags cold against her skin as he pushed a curl behind her ear. He looked like he wanted to say something, but he kept it to himself. Instead, he kissed her gently. He pulled away softly, his brow furrowing as he looked down at her. “How am I supposed to go back to that lonely tent without you now?”

She let her hands slide over his shoulders. “Needs must, you know,” she whispered, letting him gently help her to sitting. “I suspect my own bed will be quite disappointing.”

Steve bent, kissing her thigh as he picked up their discarded clothing. “Peg, we should…”

“We shouldn’t,” she stopped him as he stood, eyes serious. “if we want to keep working together, no one can know. They’ll toss me out of here in a second and you know that.”

He kissed her gently, handing her her slip. “I hate keeping us a secret.”

“I’d hate even more not knowing if you were alive or dead.”

~*~ Week 3

She hadn’t managed a night’s sleep since he went into the water. Every time she closed her eyes she saw him drowning, saw his hands reaching up for her. Saw his lifeless body floating away.

She wasn’t his widow, she wasn’t his anything, not officially. His belongings were put in storage and his name was mourned. Only the men that knew them best, the ones that saw the snuck kisses and hand holding, gave her any real sympathy.

Dugan sat with her, Pinky said a prayer with her, and Phillips had even hugged her.

There was no body, no funeral, no remembrance beyond that given to any other soldier when there was still so much more work to be done.

She could barely eat, couldn’t sleep, felt sick and tired all the time, and yet, she knew she had to march on.

There was a war to win. She was going to win it for him.

~*~ Week 6

She was shaking, and only partly due to the fact that she’d just thrown up most of what she’d eaten today quite violently. She held the phone to her ear, trying desperately to slow her heart rate.

She didn’t want it to be true, and yet she desperately did.

And if it was, she was absolutely beyond terrified.

There was another long ring before a polite English voice she’d never heard answered.

“I need to talk to Howard, please. Peggy Carter calling.” She was proud that her voice sounded almost steady. Her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest, the seconds it took Howard to get to the phone felt like hours.

“Peggy!” he called, excited. “It’s good to hear from you. How can I be of service?”

She took one shaky breath, then another. She’d never been ashamed of what they did, would never be, but the impact it was going to have on her life, the way it was going to change everyone’s opinion of her… she wasn’t ready for that.

She heard her mother’s voice in her head, criticizing the women at church who work skirts that were too short and who flirted to shamelessly. Harlots, Margaret. Girls like that give smart, determined women like us a bad name. All for what? They should be on their knees for praying, not for…humph!

“Peggy? You there?” Howard asked, his tone softening.

She wasn’t ready to lose them all. She didn’t know how she could avoid it, though.

“Howard. I… I need your help.”

~*~ Week 7

He met her in London, his eyes tight and worried as she disembarked the troop transport with her usual aplomb, not a hint of the desperate woman he’d spoken to on the phone about her. He watched her closely as they got in his car, as he introduced his new butler, as they drove far away from the base and to a small house he’d rented.

She managed to keep her composure through lunch, telling him how she and Steve had shared one moment of unrestrained passion, how neither of them had thought anything could come of it, and how, three weeks after he was pronounced KIA she realized that he’d managed to make sure she’d never be alone, even without him.

Though she hadn’t taken a test, Peggy Carter knew with certainty that she was pregnant with Steve Rogers’ child.

She swallowed, looking at Howard frankly, her eyes clear. “I don’t mind being called a whore or a harlot, that I can take and have brought upon myself as my mother would say,” Peggy quickly relayed. “My job is lost, I’m sure.” She steeled herself, but it didn’t quite work. “But I can’t…” she teared up, wrapping her hands around her still flat belly, “I don’t know how to protect it. The Army… they’ll want…”

She dissolved into tears, sending Howard to his knees beside her. “I’ll help you, Peg. You don’t have anything to worry about.” He took her hand in his, waiting until she wiped the tears from her eyes to look at him. “Nobody’s going to touch that baby, ok? If I have to marry you myself, no one is going to touch that kid.”

~*~ Week 10

The guest house at Howard’s New York home is more than suitable for her, and she takes to wandering it aimlessly as it is quite large.

She resigned her commission, citing personal reasons much to Phillips chagrin.

How am I supposed to win this war without you, Carter? Phillips’s voice echoes in her mind.

Once, she would have bristled at that, would have rethought her decision to leave and felt the pull of duty.

She had only one duty now. It had been easier than she thought it would be to say goodbye.

One day she’d tell them the truth. Phillips, the Commandos, they were her friends, too. She still was barely thicker around the middle than she had been, not enough to show and not enough to be suspicious. But right now, she held the only living genetic sample of Steve Rogers, and there were nations that would kill for that, including her own. For now, she could still hide in plain sight.

Their baby’s safety was all that mattered to her.

She made another round, checking the windows and doors and making sure the gun by her bedside was loaded and ready to go if need be. She’d already pulled it twice on poor Mr. Jarvis, but he seemed to be getting used to her paranoia.  

~*~ Week 12

Ana is a godsend.

She’s funny and quick-witted, and thankfully good with a needle and thread. Peggy’s clothes all need letting out at the seams now, and Ana entertains her with silly stories of her day and tales of the farmer’s market in town as she makes alterations.

She’s become her only close friend, and Peggy is ever grateful that not once did she see pity or judgement in the woman’s eyes.

Her mother continues to refuse to speak to her.

~*~ Week 16

Howard has proposed no less than three times since he’s been back from the front.

His simplest solution is to not give the Army any reason to believe the child belongs to Rogers. While Peggy can see the wisdom in this, she can’t quite seem to get on board with the idea of denying the man she loved his only true legacy.

“I’m thinking about it,” she would tell him nearly twice a day.

And she was thinking about it.

~*~ Week 18

She’s glad the doctor Howard has found her is knowledgeable and discrete. She knows, because Howard refuses to lie to her, that they take an extra vial of blood for him at each visit, and he runs his own tests.

She’s relieved that the midwife Ana finds her is sweet and kind, and that the woman simply holds her hand when Peggy breaks into tears when the woman asks about the baby’s father.

“I’m so sorry my love,” the midwife whispers gently. “So many young women have lost so much in this war.”

If her midwife believes her to be anything other than a war widow, or notices the lack of a ring on Peggy’s finger, she never says.

~*~ Week 20

Ana has to take Peggy shopping for maternity clothes now. She’s showing and can no longer get by with letting buttons stay undone and letting out seams. The lacy frocks and pastel colors turn her off of the small section in the department store.

She can’t help but watch the women around her, some barely showing, some looking ready to burst, and wonder what their lives are like.

Do they have doting husbands at home? Indifferent husbands? Men overseas who may never see their child’s birth?

Are they like her? Lost and alone and so very, very unsure of how even tomorrow will go?

Ana gently guides her through the store despite her daze, and helps her choose some sensible tops and dresses.

She doesn’t plan on leaving Howard’s estate other than for doctor visits any time soon, so the design matters little in the long run.

~*~ Week 21

Lying in bed she can feel it.

Little flutters.

They’re easy to ignore during the day, but at night they’re positively maddening. She rubs her stomach, hands gliding over the tightening flesh, closing her eyes and imagining they were Steve’s hands.

Tears come to her eyes.

Would he have been happy? Excited? Scared? She’s imagined each emotion a million times over. She’s never really been able to decide.

Some days she barely knows how she feels about it.

The flutters get more insistent, no real kicks or punches yet, just little backflips. She imagines a little boy, lithe and graceful as his father, or a little girl, smooth like a ballerina.

She smiles.

“Bide your time, little one,” she whispers, and the movement calms down. “You’ll be out here with all of us soon and there will be little time for rest.”

~*~ Week 23

Her days are the same now: mornings to herself to prepare for the day, afternoon tea with Ana and a rousing walk along the grounds with Mr. Jarvis. There’s the occasional doctor appointment or meeting with the midwife thrown in, but dinner is steadily at 7 and she indulges in warm baths and a book before bed.

Lying in bed is when her day turns.

She’s never really quite sure what’s going to happen after she turns the lights out.

Some nights she talks to her baby, having decided on calling him or her simply “My Little One” for the time being. If her child’s restless she knows her voice will calm it: stories, lullabies, or just rambling about her day.

Some nights all she can do is cry. Usually, it’s gentle streams of tears falling from her lashes quietly as her mind drifts to the man who will never know his child, who she imagines never understood how much she loved him, who had plans for a life after the war with her…

Sometimes she sobs; big, heaving sobs that seem to come up from the depths of her soul. This happens often after the nightmares. She has the nightmares less and less, but they’re no less dark, no less graphic for the time that’s passed. She wakes up, gasping, feeling like she’s drowning herself, and lets the tears come.

Some nights she sleeps, deep and dreamless. Those are the good nights, when she can rest and rejuvenate, when she can wake up the next day feeling like she just might be ready for whatever will come next. They’re few and far between.

Most night she simply misses him. She’s started talking to the darkness, telling Steve, who she desperately needs to believe is watching over her and their child, of all she’d done that day, even though she like to think he’s seen. Sometimes she balls up the quilt, imagining the weight of the fabric is his body behind her, wrapped around her, holding her close and keeping her warm, running his hand over the swell in her belly and whispering in her ear as he kisses her neck.

She whispers into the night, wondering what she should name their Little One.

She doesn’t get an answer back.

~*~ Week 25

Peggy’s indigestion keeps her from enjoying dinner more nights than not, and it has both the Jarvises and Howard worried.

Peggy reminds Howard that he should be less worried about her indigestion and more worried that if he asks her to marry him one more time she will literally punch him. He opens his mouth to make the proposal, but stops when she simply raises her eyebrows at him, the challenge clear.

The midwife tells them all it’s perfectly normal, and stays with Peggy to talk about where she wants to give birth.

Peggy and Howard both agree the main house will be the safest, and neither is willing to risk a hospital.

By the end of the week, Howard has one of the downstairs wings converted to a hospital wing: a birthing room and a fully equipped surgery ready and waiting.

~*~ Week 27

“Howard says he’s officially put me on the payroll as a security consultant.” Peggy sighs into the darkness. “I asked him what that means and he said it just means I don’t need to worry about anything ever again.”

She rubs her belly, looking up to the ceiling. “For what it’s worth, I almost punched him again. He still has a bit of a bruise from the last time he proposed.” She chuckles. “But he did promise that when I was ready, he thought Stark Industries could use someone like me, and that my pay was merely a retainer fee.”

She turns on her side, pulling the quilt up around her shoulders. “Nearly two-thirds the way there, my love.” She squeezes her eyes shut, pretending his arms are wound around her. “Ana wanted to throw me a baby shower, but I couldn’t think of anyone to invite. We’re going to go shopping for the bassinet and such tomorrow, instead. She and Mr. Jarvis have already bought me more than enough bottles and diapers to last well until the Little One is walking.”

Her voice cracks, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. “I can’t believe you won’t be here for this.”

~*~ Week 30

She doesn’t fit into her bras anymore, and Ana has never been more of a godsend. The woman brings her a bag full of options from the department store and sits with her, chatting calmly as she sews little cotton pads to go in them while Peggy sniffles, unprepared for the leaking and the soreness that’s accompanied this new stage in her pregnancy.

Even when feeling her lowest, with washcloths stuffed in her slip and her face red after bidding Ana a soft farewell, the back of her mind tells her that Steve would have gathered her in his arms and held her close, telling her she was beautiful and amazing and carrying a new life.

She wraps her arms around herself, weeping, and sinks to the floor, crying for all she’s lost and the things her child will never know.

~*~ Week 32

Her mother still refuses to speak with her, and she’s resorted to letters.

She hasn’t said who the baby’s father is, or that there is a good chance her grandchild will be the genetic carrier of an abundance of useful information that could cure disease or lead to another generation of super soldiers.

She mails what she tells herself is the last letter, the contents telling her mother that, should she care to know, Peggy has found a wonderful group of friends that will make sure her and her baby are protected and cared for no matter what happens.

Peggy sits, staring out the window of her guest house, rubbing her belly and thinks it’s a shame that the baby won’t have a grandmother to bake it cookies.

She laughs when she realizes Mr. Jarvis can fill that role very well, and that his cookies are far better than anything her mother managed to cook from scratch.

~*~ Week 35

She wakes up the whole household at three in the morning, convinced she’s having the baby too early.

Jarvis resorts to making tea and a full English Breakfast despite the time.

Ana holds her hand tightly, sitting by her bedside in the birthing room in the mansion as they wait for the midwife.

Howard paces a rut in the floor outside her room, smoking like a chimney and muttering to himself.

“Braxton Hicks,” the midwife tells her cheerfully despite the ungodly hour. “That baby isn’t quite ready to come out, yet.”

Ana sits with her for hours after the midwife leaves, never letting go of her hand.

~*~ Week 37

She sits with a list of names. She tries to imagine his reaction to each of them, but can’t.

Howard has become insistent that she put him down as the father, he notes that it won’t spoil his reputation any and that him as the legal father will afford the baby a comfortable life and there will be far fewer questions.

She thanks him, then threatens to punch him.

She’s already decided that the father’s name on the birth certificate will stay blank. Better no father than the wrong man, she thinks.

The baby will have her last name.

The rest, she hopes, will come in the next three weeks.

~*~ Week 38

She paces the halls of the big house through the night. Howard and Jarvis, much to her and Ana’s amusement and chagrin, have become insistent on her staying in the mansion. They want her close as the big day nears.

She tries to picture what Steve would be like, tries to guess which pieces of her friends he’d put together: Jarvis’ anxiety and preparation, Howard’s determination and excitement…

Steve was always a very tactile person, and she misses every hug and touch she knows he’d have given her. She can feel them burning on her skin in their absence.

The Little One is active and low, ready to come any day now.

What was once fear and confusion is starting to transform in her belly into excitement.

~*~ Week 39

“Mr. Jarvis,” Peggy calls from the hallway just after dinner on a quiet Tuesday, “I’m afraid I’ve made a bit of a mess.”

He moves out of the kitchen, his usual placations ready to spill from his lips until he sees the sight of her: puddle below her, legs dripping, one hand gripping her belly and one holding the sideboard to keep her standing.

Peggy thinks, as she watches Jarvis and Howard turn into tornados of commotion around her, that perhaps Steve would have been the calm one. He always did manage to have his head about him in a battle. Jarvis is slipping in her mess as he tries to get her over it without incident, Howard is on the phone, yelling incoherent sentences at the midwife.

Ana, thankfully, takes her hand and helps her leave them behind, guiding her back to the birthing room that had become her bedroom for the last few days.

Yes, she imagines, as Ana helps her into a dry nightgown and pull her hair back, he would be calm and certain, slow and deliberate, making sure she had everything she needed. Ana’s helping her into the bed as the midwife arrives, and like before the woman stays by her side, talking softly as the midwife examines her and declares that they’ll have a baby sooner rather than later.

Peggy thinks it might be the pain, but as she’s enduring the worst of the contractions, she swears she can hear his voice in her ear, telling her to keep going, that she’s strong, that she doesn’t need him, or anyone, to do this.

When they sit her up to push, she imagines it is Steve’s strong form behind her, not pillows and a bedframe holding her up as she yells with each effort, the midwife between her legs and Ana at her side.

When the baby slips from her body she imagines he catches her as she falls back, limp, his strong arms holding her up, his lips at her ear, his cheek next to hers.

But when the midwife hands her the baby, swaddled tight and eyes opening gently, any ghost of Steve is gone. Her heart pounding in her chest, she hears the words over and over in the back of her mind, and she’s wondering if it is him, if he was with her. If he’s left her this gift and this knowledge.

You can do this.

“A little boy,” the midwife says as she hands Peggy her son. He squeals a bit, lets out a soft cry, then settles, opening his eyes.

Peggy smiles at him, eyes filled with tears. She presses the blanket back from his chin, taking in the radiant blue of his eyes, the tiny eyelashes that surround them, the strong set of his still barely there jaw.

She knows, one day, there will be no question about his parentage.

She presses a soft kiss to his head, cradling him close as he squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a cry, her heart more full of love than she could have ever imagined. She can’t tell if she’s laughing or crying as she speaks. “I have eagerly been awaiting the day I could finally meet you… and I am not disappointed. You are beautiful.”

She gazes at her son as the midwife finishes her work, feeling but not registering the passing of the afterbirth and the older woman’s gentle washing of her legs and thighs. Ana gently cleans the child as she holds him, unable to look away. Finally, the midwife sits by her side, papers in her hands. “I’ve filled out everything else. All that’s left is his name.”

Peggy gulps, hard, undecided for a moment, but his eyes gaze up at her and she knows. “Michael Steven Carter.” She expects tears when she says it, but they don’t come, and that’s how she knows she’s made the right decision. “For two important men that I wish he could have known.”

The midwife sets a caring hand on her arm as Ana turns away, sniffing. “A beautiful memorial.” The older woman fills out the paper and leaves it at Peggy’s bedside. “I can bathe him for you, if you like?”

“No, I don’t think I can bear to let go just yet,” she whispers, still in awe of the small movements he’s making. Each stretch, each wiggle she can almost feel coinciding to a movement she felt from the outside. To have him in her arms is a blessing she won’t overlook.

“Then perhaps we should try feeding him?”

Peggy nods, smiling up at the woman. “Please.”

~*~ Week 40

She stares at him, asleep in his little bassinet. He’ll be waking soon, she can tell from how swollen and tight she feels that he’s due for another feeding, even if she hadn’t looked at the clock.

When she woke, she could have sworn that she saw Steve standing over the bassinet, his form strong and stoic in the moonlight.

She blinked, and he was gone.

Peggy didn’t have time for fantasies of lost loves any longer. She still wondered at how Steve might react, what he’d say, but she’d been too busy to wonder too much, or miss him too deeply.

Michael was her whole world right now, and keeping him safe was her first, and only, job. Howard said it was for too early to know if he’d exhibit any of the traits his father had been endowed with, but any and all tests they’d run showed that he was a healthy, normal little boy.

She still hadn’t figured out how she’d tell him about his father, or what they’d do if he was stronger and faster than all his peers as he grew, but every time it popped through her mind she reminded herself that was a problem for years down the line.

Tonight, when she held him tight to her breast, she could tell him unedited stories of the bravery of his father, knowing that the boy would never remember her words.

Tonight was all that mattered.

Tonight, and her beautiful boy in her arms.