#i'm just a kid from brooklyn (steve rogers)

[amethystarachnid]

Hello! Could I ask for Steve Rogers for your Marvel Christmas specials? Number 23 (Santa’s Little Helper  – You and your character end up volunteering together at a local holiday charity or helping out in a Christmas toy drive.) please.

I don't know why, but I think he's the perfect match for something like volunteering for charity, especially if it were for kids in need. Just some sweet sweet fluff, I know the kids would love to play around with him (climbing all over him y'know)

A PLACE TO STAY - part I

⤷ STEVE G. ROGERS

ᯓ★ Pairing: Steve G. Rogers x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: fluff, some angst, more fluff at the end

ᯓ★ Request from: MARVEL Holiday special

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 9k (I told you the fic wrote itself)

ᯓ★ Summary: Steve and y/n decide to buy some gifts for the kids in an orphanage, what they don't expect is to have a little girl attached to the hip. how will they leave now?

ᯓ★ TW(s): mentions of abandonment and abandonment issues

ᯓ★ I'm so sorry I know you asked just fluff but I swear the fic wrote itself, and I will sure as hell write a second part where Steve and Y/n adopt Olivia because I'm crying.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The soft hum of Christmas music plays from the speaker tucked into the corner of your apartment, filling the room with warmth and a sense of the season. Outside, snow falls lazily, blanketing Brooklyn in a pristine sheet of white. Inside, the two of you are curled up on the couch, a fuzzy throw blanket draped over your legs and a half-empty mug of cocoa forgotten on the coffee table.

Steve’s arm is slung over your shoulders, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your upper arm through the fabric of your sweater. It’s a lazy December evening, the kind where the world feels a little slower, a little softer, and you can’t think of anywhere else you’d rather be than here, in this little pocket of warmth with him.

“You comfortable?” he asks, his voice low and rumbling, a touch of amusement in his tone as he looks down at you. You’re nestled against his side, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Mhm,” you murmur, not bothering to lift your head. “I could stay like this forever.”

His chuckle vibrates through you, deep and rich. “Not a bad idea. We can hibernate till spring.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, catching the teasing glint in his blue eyes. His hair is slightly mussed, one of your favorite looks on him, and his sweater—a soft navy one you’d insisted he get because it matched his eyes—clings to him in a way that makes you want to tug him even closer.

“I think you’d get stir-crazy after a day,” you say, smiling. “You’re not built for sitting still, Rogers.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “But if I’ve got you here with me, I think I could manage.”

Your heart squeezes at the way he says it, like it’s the simplest truth in the world. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to the way Steve looks at you, like you’re the most important thing in the room, in his life. You reach up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, letting your fingers linger against his temple.

“I love you,” you say softly.

He doesn’t answer right away; he never rushes when he looks at you like this, like he’s savoring every second of it. Then he smiles, that slow, sweet smile that makes your knees weak even when you’re sitting down. “I love you, too,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

For a moment, you let yourself sink into the quiet comfort of it all—the faint crackle of the fireplace app on your TV, the weight of his arm around you, the glow of the tiny Christmas tree you both decorated a week ago. Then Steve shifts slightly, his hand moving from your arm to rest on your thigh, and you catch the thoughtful look in his eyes.

“What’s on your mind?” you ask, tilting your head to study him.

He hesitates, which is rare for him. Steve’s always been the type to speak his mind, but you’ve learned that sometimes he takes his time when it’s something that really matters to him.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about,” he says finally. “Something I wanted to ask you.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, sitting up a little so you can face him better. “What is it?”

He runs a hand through his hair, glancing toward the window as if he’s searching for the right words. When he looks back at you, there’s a softness in his expression that makes your heart ache a little.

“You know how much I love Christmas,” he begins, a small smile tugging at his lips. “And not just the lights and the music and all that. It’s always been about... giving back. Doing something meaningful.”

You nod, already feeling a warmth spread through you at the direction this is going. “That sounds like you,” you say, your smile matching his.

“Well,” he continues, his fingers brushing against yours, “I was thinking. This year, maybe we could do something together. Something for kids who don’t have as much. Like in orphanages, or shelters. We could bring them gifts, spend some time with them. Make their Christmas a little brighter.”

Your chest tightens at the sincerity in his voice, the way his eyes hold yours like this idea means the world to him. He’s always been like this—big heart, bigger dreams. And he’s always thinking about how to make the world a better place, one person at a time.

“That’s a beautiful idea, Steve,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “Of course I’ll help. I’d love to.”

The way his face lights up is enough to make you forget the chill outside, forget everything but him. “You mean it?” he asks, like he can’t quite believe you’d say no but still needs to hear you confirm it.

“Of course,” you say, squeezing his hand. “We’ll make it happen. Whatever you need.”

For a moment, he just looks at you, his smile soft and grateful. Then he leans in, cupping your face with one hand as he kisses you. It’s slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that makes your toes curl under the blanket and your heart feel like it’s trying to escape your chest.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can’t help but smile at how close he keeps you. “You’re amazing, you know that?” he murmurs.

“I try,” you tease, though your cheeks are warm from his words.

He laughs, a sound that feels like sunshine breaking through the snowstorm outside. “We’ll need to start planning soon,” he says. “I was thinking we could make it a mix of things—gifts, maybe some activities. And definitely food. Can’t forget the food.”

You nod along, already picturing the two of you wrapping presents and brainstorming ideas together. “Sounds perfect,” you say. “And you know I’m good with organizing stuff. Just tell me what you need.”

Steve’s grin widens, and he pulls you back against his chest, holding you close like he can’t quite let go yet. “What did I do to deserve you?” he asks, half to himself.

“You saved the world a couple of times,” you reply with a grin, earning another laugh from him.

“You make it sound so casual,” he says, shaking his head.

You just smile and settle back into his embrace, letting the warmth of him and the moment wrap around you like a second blanket. Outside, the snow keeps falling, and inside, you know this is going to be a Christmas to remember.

The following weekend, after a week of planning and buying supplies, you and Steve are seated together at the kitchen table in your Brooklyn apartment, an array of colorful gift bags, wrapping paper, and toys scattered around you. The room is cozy, the hum of the heater mingling with the faint sound of the radio playing a Christmas song. It’s the perfect kind of atmosphere, warm and inviting, for the task you’ve set out to do.

You unwrap another toy—a little plush giraffe—and place it carefully into one of the gift bags. Steve does the same with a toy truck, grinning as he reads the label on the back. “I’m just saying, I’d be pretty excited if someone gave me one of these,” he says, giving the truck a little shake as though testing it out.

“You’re 100% a kid at heart,” you reply with a laugh. “But yeah, I think they’re going to love these.”

Steve shoots you a sideways glance, eyes glinting with mischief. “Are you calling me immature?”

“Not at all,” you tease, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m just saying you’re very easy to shop for.”

He pretends to look hurt, dramatically clutching his chest. “Ouch, that cuts deep.”

You can’t help but giggle at his theatrics, your heart swelling as you watch him. You’ve always known Steve had a playful side, but it’s moments like this that remind you how much you love his ability to make even the most mundane tasks fun.

The two of you have spent the last few hours going through the kids’ wishlists, some of which were surprisingly simple, while others tugged at your heart. One little girl, age seven, asked for a "doll with long hair." Another boy, maybe around ten, wrote that he wanted "a toy airplane, but one that could fly like a real one." You’re constantly amazed by the purity of their wishes, the things they dream of that seem so small yet are filled with so much hope.

“That’s a pretty big ask for a toy airplane,” you say, looking over at Steve. “What do you think? Should we get him something that flies, or...?”

Steve rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Something that actually flies?” He grins at you, his eyes twinkling. “You know I’m always down for a challenge, but I think we should stick with something more realistic. How about a remote-controlled one? They’re fun, and it’s not like the kid’s asking for a jet.”

You nod, smiling at his practicality. “Good call. We’ll grab one of those.”

After a few more hours of sorting through toys, checking and double-checking the lists, you and Steve are finally finished. You stretch your arms over your head and look at the pile of wrapped gifts you’ve managed to create. It’s a satisfying sight—brightly colored paper, neat bows, and the satisfaction of knowing these toys are going to bring joy to kids who might otherwise go without.

“I think we’re done here,” you say, smiling at Steve, who is just finishing the last bit of wrapping on a small box.

“I think you’re right,” he says, glancing around at the festive chaos of wrapping supplies scattered across the table. “This is actually kind of fun. We should do this every year.”

You beam up at him. “Agreed. And next year, we’ll probably need a bigger table.”

After packing everything up into several large bags, Steve helps you load them into the back of his car. The trunk is already half-filled, and as you stand side by side, looking over the pile of gifts, Steve wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” he murmurs.

You glance up at him, your smile softening. “Right back at you. You came up with this idea, remember?”

“Yeah, but you’re the one who made it happen,” he says, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His touch is gentle, his gaze soft as he studies you. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you forget about the gifts, the plans, everything except Steve’s presence. “I love you,” you whisper.

He smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “I love you, too.”

The drive to the orphanage is peaceful, the streets of Brooklyn decorated with twinkling lights and signs of holiday cheer. You both chat about your plans for the rest of the day—maybe grab a coffee afterward, or walk around the city—but the closer you get to your destination, the more your thoughts turn to the kids and what they might be like. You wonder if they’ll be excited, nervous, or shy. It’s all a bit of an unknown, but you’re both determined to make it special for them, no matter what.

As you pull up to the orphanage, a large, older building with a faded red brick exterior, you can see children peeking out from behind the windows, their curious faces illuminated by the soft glow of the Christmas lights draped across the building. You grab the bags of gifts from the trunk, and Steve takes the lead, walking toward the entrance, holding the door open for you.

The building’s interior is warm, with a low hum of activity—kids running around, laughing, some playing with older toys, others reading books in the corner. You both stand in the doorway for a moment, taking it all in.

A woman who must be one of the caretakers approaches, her face lighting up as she sees you both. “You must be Mr. Rogers and Miss Y/n,” she says warmly. “Thank you so much for coming. The kids are going to be so excited!”

Steve smiles, a little bashful as always, but his voice is confident. “We’re happy to be here. We’ve got lots of gifts for them.”

The caretaker’s eyes flicker between you and Steve, and you can see a hint of surprise, though she hides it quickly. “It’s really kind of you,” she says. “We don’t get many visitors, especially not ones with such... generous hearts.”

“We’re just glad to help,” you reply with a smile, adjusting the strap of your bag.

With the gifts handed off to the staff, you’re introduced to the children. There are a lot of them—some shy, others enthusiastic, but all of them curious about the strangers in their midst. You and Steve work together to hand out the presents, and there’s something magical about seeing the kids’ faces light up as they unwrap their gifts. A shy little girl squeals in delight as she pulls a stuffed unicorn from her gift bag, and a boy nearly trips over his feet in excitement as he gets his remote-controlled airplane. The joy in their eyes makes the whole experience worth it.

But there’s one little girl who stands out from the crowd.

She’s tiny, maybe three years old, with soft, curly brown hair and big, brown eyes that never seem to leave you. She’s holding a teddy bear close to her chest, and when you kneel down to give her a gift, her gaze flickers between you and Steve, her lip trembling.

“Hi there,” you say softly, offering her a brightly wrapped present. “This is for you.”

Her eyes widen as she takes it, clinging to her teddy bear with one hand while carefully unwrapping the paper. You watch her closely, noticing how she seems a little unsure of everything—her speech not quite clear as she murmurs something unintelligible under her breath. You don’t mind, though. You’re in no rush. You’re here for her, for all of them.

Steve squats down beside you, his large hand hovering just above her shoulder in a quiet show of reassurance. “What’s your name, little one?” he asks gently.

The girl looks up at him, her eyes wide as she shifts her gaze from you to him. After a beat, she gives a little shrug, her brow furrowing as if she’s unsure how to respond. You smile softly and tilt your head toward her.

“It’s okay,” you say, your voice gentle and soothing. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to. But we’re really happy you’re here.”

Her eyes stay fixed on you, still uncertain but drawn to the calmness in your voice. She pulls the ribbon off her gift, her tiny fingers fumbling with it for a moment before she manages to untie it, revealing a small, colorful doll.

A smile tugs at the corners of her lips, and she looks up at you, her eyes a little brighter. Her voice is soft, but you can just make out the words she stumbles through. “Doll... for me?”

You nod, your heart swelling. “Yes, sweetheart. That one’s all for you.”

She hugs it close to her chest, glancing back and forth between you and Steve, before shyly reaching out for your hand. You gently take it, your heart swelling at the small but trusting gesture. She might be too shy to speak much, but her little hand in yours speaks volumes.

Steve’s gaze softens as he watches the interaction, his hand resting lightly on her head. “She’s got a good grip for someone so little,” he murmurs.

You nod, smiling at the way the little girl is clinging to you, her eyes softening as she curls into your side. “She’s a sweet one,” you say, your voice low as you kneel down beside her, letting her feel safe and calm in your presence.

As the day goes on, the room fills with more laughter and joy, and the connection with the children deepens. But it’s this little girl, the one so small and yet so full of trust, who tugs most at your heartstrings. She doesn’t speak much, but when she reaches for you or Steve, you know she’s found a quiet comfort in both of you.

The morning slips by in a flurry of laughter, bright eyes, and the shuffle of little feet. The toys you and Steve brought are scattered all around the orphanage’s common room, and the kids are absolutely absorbed in them—trucks zooming across the floor, dolls being tucked into makeshift beds, and a few kids giggling as they watch the remote-controlled airplane soar through the air.

Steve, of course, is in his element, kneeling down beside the boys to help them maneuver their toy trucks. The grin on his face is enough to make anyone believe he’s reliving his own childhood. You can’t help but watch him, feeling that familiar warmth spread through you at the sight of him. He’s so good with the kids, so patient, so kind. He’s always been a hero, but in moments like this, you see him in a new light—he’s not just Captain America; he’s just a man who wants to make the world better, one small moment at a time.

As he engages with the boys, you turn your attention back to the little girl who’s been quietly following you. She’s still clutching her doll close to her chest, her eyes a little unsure, but there’s something in the way she watches you—something soft, something tentative, that tells you she’s starting to feel a little less guarded. You smile gently, crouching down to her level, and the moment your eyes meet, she ducks her head shyly, clutching her doll even tighter.

“Hey there,” you say softly, trying to coax her out of her shell. “You like your new doll?”

She looks up at you then, her dark eyes wide, as if she’s not quite sure what to make of your question. Slowly, she nods, her gaze flickering between you and the doll. Her little fingers run over the fabric of its dress as she hugs it to her chest.

“Pretty,” she murmurs in a soft, childlike voice, the words almost too quiet to hear.

You smile, feeling a warmth spread in your chest at the sound of her voice. “Yeah, she’s pretty. Just like you.”

The girl doesn’t respond, but she looks up at you again, her lips curling into the faintest of smiles. It’s enough to make you feel like you’ve won a small victory. The quiet way she’s speaking, the way she’s reaching out to you, is a sign that she’s starting to trust you, even if only a little.

You reach out slowly, letting her take her time. “Do you want me to hold her for a while?”

The girl hesitates, looking down at the doll and then back at you. Slowly, she reaches out and hands you the doll, her fingers brushing yours. It’s a small gesture, but it means so much to you. You cradle the doll in your arms, and for the first time, the little girl seems to relax a little, stepping a fraction closer to you.

“Thank you,” you whisper, your voice full of quiet admiration for how brave she’s being.

Just as you’re about to say something else, a loud burst of laughter rings out across the room, and you turn to see Steve kneeling on the floor with the older boys, showing them how to make the remote-controlled airplane do loops in the air. One of the boys is cheering, clapping his hands in excitement, while the others are watching with wide eyes.

The sight of Steve interacting with the other children seems to pull your attention away for just a moment, and when you glance back at the little girl, you’re surprised to find her standing right next to you, her gaze fixed on Steve with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

“Steve’s fun,” you say, offering her a gentle smile. “He’s really good at playing.”

The girl looks up at you with a small frown, still holding onto her doll but inching closer to you. “Steve?” she repeats softly, as if testing the name on her lips.

“Yeah, Steve,” you affirm, your voice gentle. “He’s a good friend.”

Her gaze flickers toward Steve, who’s still helping the kids with their toys. His laughter rings out, so easy and light, and the girl takes another step closer to you, her fingers tentatively reaching for your hand. You smile softly, taking her hand in yours.

“That’s Steve,” you say again, nodding toward him. “He’s nice.”

At first, the girl hesitates, but after a few moments, she seems to relax a little, still clinging to you, but her eyes on Steve now. It’s like she’s testing him in her own way, trying to decide if she can trust him, too.

“Play?” she asks in a tiny voice, pointing toward Steve. Her words are still so soft, and her speech is still uncertain, like she’s not yet comfortable with the world around her. But there’s an openness in her that makes your heart ache a little.

“Do you want to go play with him?” you ask, kneeling down to her level again. “You can. I bet he’d love to play with you.”

The little girl looks at you, and for a long moment, it seems like she’s not sure. But then, she takes another step closer to Steve, her doll still firmly clutched to her chest. You watch her with a quiet sense of hope, feeling your heart swell with the tiniest bit of pride. She’s trusting you. And now, it seems like she’s starting to trust Steve, too.

Steve catches sight of her moving toward him and offers a warm smile. “Hey there, little one,” he greets her softly. “You want to play with us?”

The girl looks at him for a moment, her eyes still uncertain, but she nods slowly, taking another cautious step toward him. Her tiny hand reaches for his, and Steve gently takes it, kneeling down so he’s at her level.

“Want to fly the airplane with me?” he asks in a calm, kind voice.

The girl looks at the airplane, her gaze lighting up for just a moment before she looks back at you. She’s still holding onto her doll, but she’s looking at Steve now, waiting for his next move.

“It’s really easy,” Steve continues, gently guiding her to sit beside him. “You just press the button here, like this.” He presses a button on the remote, and the airplane zooms into the air.

The girl watches, eyes wide with awe. She turns to you, her gaze searching for approval.

“It’s safe,” you assure her with a smile. “Steve’s really good at it. You can try it, if you want.”

After a long pause, she turns back to Steve, a little more confident now. “Try?” she asks, her voice a little stronger this time.

“You bet,” Steve says, his voice full of encouragement. “I’ll show you how. Just press this button.”

With a tentative hand, the girl reaches out, her tiny fingers brushing the remote. Steve guides her hand gently, and when the airplane soars into the air again, her face lights up with joy.

You watch the interaction with a quiet sense of happiness, but at the same time, there’s something pulling at your heart. The little girl is so small, so fragile, and yet she’s starting to trust not only you but Steve as well. It’s like she’s blossoming before your eyes, and it feels like a privilege to witness it.

But as the day goes on, a small pang of worry starts to creep into the back of your mind. You know how these moments go. You know that sometimes, when kids get attached, it can be hard for them to understand why people leave.

As you’re helping a few of the younger children color pictures, one of the caretakers—an older woman with kind eyes—approaches you. She’s got a solemn expression on her face as she quietly pulls you aside. Steve’s still busy with the other kids, so he doesn’t notice the exchange.

“Miss Y/n, Mr. Rogers,” she begins, her voice low and cautious. “I’m so grateful for the gifts and for everything you’ve done for these children today, but… there’s something you should know about the little girl who’s been sticking to you.”

Your stomach tightens. “What’s wrong?”

The caretaker looks over at the little girl, who’s still playing with Steve, her focus entirely on the remote-controlled airplane. “Her name is Olivia,” she says quietly. “She’s been here since she was about one, and… well, she’s had a hard time with attachments.”

Your heart sinks a little. You try to keep your voice calm. “What do you mean?”

The caretaker hesitates for a moment, glancing at the girl again. “She was abandoned. Left at the hospital when she was a baby. And ever since, she’s had a difficult time trusting people. She gets attached easily, but when people leave her, she—” The woman trails off, clearly not wanting to say it out loud.

When she speaks again, it’s with a quiet sense of warning. “She’s just starting to open up to you two. But if she gets too attached, if she starts to think of you as her… family, it could break her when you leave.”

You look at the little girl—Olivia—playing with Steve. She’s so innocent, so sweet, and the idea of her being hurt is almost unbearable.

“I understand,” you say softly, feeling a knot form in your throat. “We’ll be careful.”

But as you glance back at Olivia, sitting on Steve’s knee, her eyes wide with wonder, you know that it’s already too late. She’s already attached to you both in a way that no one can truly predict, and as much as you want to protect her, you know there’s nothing you can do to stop the inevitable heartbreak. The heartache that will come when she realizes you’re not staying.

And yet, despite the warning, despite the ache in your chest, you find yourself taking another step toward her, watching her smile up at Steve, her tiny hand resting in his. Some part of you knows that whatever happens, whatever heartbreak comes next, this moment, this tiny piece of joy, is worth everything.

As the day continues, the laughter and excitement in the orphanage grow louder, the sound of children’s voices mingling with the cheerful chime of Christmas music in the background. The toy airplane flies through the air again, spinning in dizzying loops, and Steve’s gentle voice guides Olivia’s small hands as she tries to control it, her grip still unsure but filled with an eagerness to learn.

You watch the two of them from the corner of the room, your heart swelling as you see how Steve is patiently showing Olivia how to work the controls, guiding her small hands with the same careful attention he always gives everyone. Olivia, in turn, seems captivated, her wide eyes focused solely on the airplane as it soars and dips. She lets out a small giggle when it flies low, and you can see a flicker of something like trust beginning to settle in her features.

A soft pull at your sleeve draws your attention, and you turn to find Olivia standing right beside you again, her big brown eyes wide and expectant.

“Y/n,” she says in a soft voice, and the way she says your name makes your heart ache. It’s still so fragile, so tentative, but there’s a quiet confidence behind it. “Pick up?”

You blink, surprised. For most of the day, Olivia has been content to stay a few steps away, observing, watching as you and Steve interacted with the other children. She hadn’t made any real attempt to get closer to either of you, and the fact that she was now reaching out in this way is a small but significant shift. Your chest tightens as you realize what this means.

“You want me to hold you?” you ask, your voice soft and full of tenderness.

Olivia nods, her tiny hands reaching up toward you, and there’s a quiet plea in her eyes—one that says she’s seeking comfort, seeking warmth in the middle of the excitement, something that’s just for her.

Without hesitation, you bend down, scooping her up gently, being careful not to disturb the doll she’s still clutching. Her tiny body relaxes as she’s lifted into your arms, and she nuzzles against your chest, her head resting on your shoulder. You feel the weight of her trust settle in your arms, and for a moment, you close your eyes, savoring the feeling. She’s so small, so fragile, and yet she has placed her trust in you so completely.

“Is this okay?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you hold her close.

She responds with a soft, contented hum, her little hand wrapping around your neck, clinging to you as if she’s afraid you might disappear. You tighten your hold on her, making sure she feels safe in your embrace.

From across the room, Steve watches the two of you, a soft smile on his lips as he continues to play with the other children. But his gaze flickers back to Olivia now and then, his protective instincts flaring in ways you can only imagine.

You shift slightly, carrying Olivia toward the group of kids Steve is playing with. As you approach, Steve looks up and gives you a quiet nod, his smile widening when he sees how Olivia has settled into your arms.

“She’s getting more comfortable, huh?” Steve says, his voice soft, but there’s a hint of both pride and concern in it.

“Yeah,” you reply, your tone full of quiet wonder. “She really is.”

Olivia doesn’t say anything, but her fingers curl around your shirt, her head still resting on your shoulder. It’s as if she’s found a place she can finally feel safe—something that, up until now, might have felt impossible for her. There’s something in the way she’s clinging to you that makes your heart ache with a mixture of love and fear. She’s so little, and the world can be so big and unpredictable, but right now, in this moment, she’s holding on to you with everything she’s got.

Steve moves closer, kneeling down to be at her eye level. He reaches out a hand, gentle and steady. “Olivia,” he says softly, his voice full of warmth. “You want to play some more? We’ve got a lot of fun toys.”

Olivia looks up at him with big eyes, her small face still somewhat wary. For a moment, she seems unsure. But then, she surprises you both by shifting her little body in your arms and turning toward Steve. There’s a softness in her gaze now, a hesitant trust that wasn’t there before.

��Play,” she says in that tiny voice, her words still so soft but filled with a quiet determination.

You let out a small breath of relief, your grip on her loosening just enough for her to be able to step away from you. But even as she moves toward Steve, she reaches back for you with a small, almost imperceptible gesture. Her fingers brush yours, seeking that connection.

You smile, touching her hand briefly before letting her go to Steve. It’s a small step, but it’s one that means everything.

Steve, ever the patient one, offers his hand to Olivia, guiding her toward a small table where the other kids are building with blocks. As he walks with her, his smile never fades, even as she seems to shy away slightly from the other children. He gives her space, letting her explore on her own terms.

“You wanna help me build a tower?” Steve asks her, his voice warm and encouraging.

Olivia looks up at him, her lips curling into a shy smile. “Tower?” she repeats, sounding out the word carefully.

“Yeah, a big one,” Steve affirms. “I think you’re gonna be great at it.”

She nods, her focus now entirely on the colorful blocks in front of her. She picks one up carefully, turning it over in her small hands. You watch her from where you’re standing, a quiet sense of pride swelling in your chest. This little girl, who had been so withdrawn just hours ago, is now actively participating, engaging with the world around her.

As you step back, you join the other children who are sitting on the floor, coloring pictures or playing with dolls. You try to keep an eye on Olivia without hovering too closely, giving her the space she needs to grow and trust on her own terms. It’s not easy, though, because your heart keeps pulling you back to her. You can’t help but worry about her, about what’s going to happen when the day comes to an end and you both have to leave.

For now, though, you try to focus on the present. The kids around you are still deep in their own activities, and there’s a sense of joy in the room, one that you can feel radiating from them. It’s infectious, this energy, and it makes you grateful for the opportunity to spend this time with them, to give them a small piece of happiness.

Olivia, it seems, is growing more comfortable with Steve. She’s fully immersed in building a tower now, and when she picks up another block, she looks up at him for reassurance. “More?” she asks, and Steve chuckles, nodding.

“Of course, more. We’ll make it the biggest tower ever.”

Her eyes light up, and she enthusiastically starts stacking more blocks, the tower growing taller and taller with each passing moment. Steve doesn’t rush her, doesn’t push her to go faster. He simply watches her, offering encouragement when needed, making sure she feels proud of every little step she takes.

The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, casting long shadows across the orphanage as the day winds down. The cheerful chaos of children’s laughter and playful chatter starts to quiet, the toys being gathered up, the Christmas music fading to a gentle hum in the background. The once-bright room is now filled with a soft, melancholy glow, signaling the end of the day.

You can’t help but feel the bittersweetness of it all. The day has been filled with so much joy—so many smiles, so much laughter. And yet, as the clock ticks on and the children begin to gather their things, a heavy weight settles in your chest. You know what’s coming. You know that the moment you and Steve walk out the door, you’ll be leaving behind a part of yourself, a piece of your heart, with these children, especially with Olivia.

As you stand near the door, watching as the children slowly start to gather their jackets and shoes, your gaze drifts to Olivia. She’s standing near the coat rack, her tiny hands reaching for her jacket with the same determination you’ve seen in her all day. Her wide, trusting eyes are fixed on you, and for a moment, you forget to breathe.

Steve is at your side, his expression equally heavy, his hand resting on your shoulder as you both watch the little girl from a distance.

“I think she’s getting ready to leave with us,” you whisper, your heart aching as you see Olivia struggling to put on her coat, her movements clumsy, her tiny fingers fumbling with the buttons. It’s like she’s already made up her mind that you’re going to take her home with you.

“Yeah,” Steve replies quietly, his voice rough, filled with a quiet pain that mirrors your own. “She’s really attached.”

You take a deep breath, but it feels like there’s a lump lodged in your throat. The promise you’d made to her—to come back and see her again—feels almost impossible in this moment. How can you leave a little girl who’s already started to trust you, to care for you, when all she wants is to stay with you?

Slowly, you step toward her, trying to keep the tears at bay. Olivia has finally managed to get her jacket on, and now she’s walking toward you, her small legs moving with a determined little waddle. When she reaches you, she lifts her arms up, holding her jacket out to you with a hopeful look on her face.

“Go now?” she asks, her voice small but insistent, her lips trembling with the effort of saying the words.

You kneel down to her level, your heart hammering in your chest. You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet her eyes. “Olivia, sweetheart,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, “we can’t take you with us right now.”

Olivia blinks up at you, her eyes wide and confused. “But go now?” she repeats, her little hands clutching at her jacket, her expression one of complete innocence and trust.

Steve crouches down next to you, his own heart breaking as he reaches out to gently rest a hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, we can’t take you home with us today,” he says gently, his voice full of warmth but tinged with sorrow. “You have to stay here for now. But we promise we’ll come back. We’ll see you again soon, okay?”

The words come out easily, but the promise feels like it’s weighing a ton on your heart. You know she doesn’t fully understand, not in the way an adult would, but she’s heard the word "promise" before, and she’s holding on to it as though it’s the most important thing in the world. Her face scrunches up, and her small lips tremble.

“No,” she says, shaking her head frantically. “Stay with you. Please.”

Your heart cracks at the desperation in her voice, at the sheer helplessness in her small form. You reach out, wrapping your arms around her in a gentle embrace, holding her close as her body trembles in your arms.

“Oh, baby, I wish we could,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “I really do.”

Olivia clings to you, her little arms wrapped around your neck in a tight hug, as though she’s trying to hold on to you for dear life. The small, helpless sob that escapes her lips pierces your heart, and for a moment, you feel like you’re going to break. You rub her back gently, trying to soothe her, trying to tell her everything’s going to be okay.

But it’s not okay. It’s not okay for her. Not when she’s so desperate for love, for safety, for someone to hold her and take her home. The tears in her eyes are a reflection of all the things she’s been through, all the abandonment, the fear, the loneliness. And now, she’s finally found something she can hold on to, someone who loves her, even if just for a short while. And the idea of losing that… of losing you… is too much for her to bear.

“Please,” she whispers again, her voice cracking as she pulls away slightly, looking at you with tear-filled eyes. “Don’t leave me.”

You feel your own tears begin to fall, and you quickly swipe them away, trying to be strong for her. “Olivia, we’ll come back,” you promise again, your voice breaking slightly. “We’ll come back and see you. We won’t forget about you, okay?”

But even as the words leave your lips, you can see the doubt in her eyes. She’s been abandoned before, left alone by the people who were supposed to take care of her. Your promise feels like just another thing she’s heard before, another empty promise that’s been broken. And that realization, the understanding that she’s already been through so much and still doesn’t trust that anyone will come back for her, makes your heart break even more.

Steve kneels down beside the two of you, and for a moment, he doesn’t speak. His hand rests on Olivia’s back, and his eyes are filled with the same sorrow that you’re feeling. He doesn’t know how to fix this, how to ease her pain. All he can do is be here, offering her comfort, offering her warmth in this moment.

“I know it’s hard,” Steve says softly, his voice filled with quiet tenderness. “But we’ll come back. We’ll be here again, and we’ll make sure you’re okay. You’re not alone, Olivia.”

But the little girl doesn’t seem to hear him. Instead, she pulls away from you completely, her small hands pushing against your chest as she backs away, her sobs growing louder.

“No, no!” she cries, her voice shaking with the force of her emotion. “I want to go with you!”

The sound of her tears rips through you like a blade, and you’re not sure how to react. You want to hold her, to comfort her, to make everything okay, but you know that this is a hurt you can’t fix. Not right now. Not in this moment.

Steve stands up, his hand reaching for you as he gives Olivia one last, long look. You see the same look in his eyes—one of helplessness, one of sorrow. You know he’s feeling the same thing you are: the ache of leaving this sweet, innocent little girl who’s finally found something to hold on to.

“We’ll be back, Olivia,” you say one last time, your voice breaking. “I promise.”

The words sound hollow even to you, and you know that the moment you leave, she won’t understand. You can only hope that in time, the promise will mean something to her.

With a heavy heart, you turn away from Olivia, feeling as if you’re leaving a piece of yourself behind. Steve follows you, his hand brushing against your back as you both make your way to the door.

The sound of Olivia’s sobs follows you all the way to the exit, echoing in your ears as you step out of the orphanage. And with every step, it feels as though your heart is breaking just a little bit more.

When you finally get to the apartment, the silence feels deafening. The weight of the day, the weight of Olivia’s tears, is still heavy in the air. You try to focus on something else, anything else, but all you can think about is the little girl you had to leave behind. The little girl who just wanted to be loved.

You sit down on the couch, your hands shaking as you remove your coat, and Steve follows you, sitting beside you, but there’s a coldness in the room now, an emptiness that wasn’t there before. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, and you try to hold them back, but the weight of it all is too much.

“I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this,” you whisper, your voice trembling as the tears finally fall.

Steve pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you as you bury your face in his chest. His hand strokes your hair gently, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. There’s nothing to say, really. The pain is too raw, too fresh.

“I know,” Steve says quietly. “I know. It’s hard. I don’t know how we’re supposed to do this either.”

But as you hold each other, you know there’s nothing else to do except try to keep your promise. To keep coming back. To keep showing up for Olivia, even if it means facing this heartbreaking reality every time.

For now, though, you let the tears come. And when you close your eyes, you can still see Olivia’s face, the way she cried, the way she reached for you, and you know, deep down, that she’ll stay with you in your heart. Forever.

The days following that heart-wrenching goodbye at the orphanage were difficult, but in a way, they also brought a sense of purpose. After the promise to Olivia, you and Steve began returning to the orphanage as often as you could, every other day, just as you’d said you would. It wasn’t always easy to make time for those visits, but seeing Olivia’s face light up the moment she saw you both made everything worth it.

Each visit began to feel like part of your routine. The orphanage became a second home of sorts. You and Steve would walk through the doors, already expecting to be met by the eager eyes of the other children. But it was Olivia who always sought you out first, her face breaking into a wide, joyful smile the moment she spotted you.

“Y/n! Steve!” she would call, running to meet you with her arms wide open. The joy in her voice was unmistakable, the sparkle in her eyes shining as brightly as the Christmas lights still twinkling above the doors.

Every time you saw her, you couldn’t help but feel your heart swell. She was growing more comfortable with you both, more trusting. You would spend hours with her, building towers, drawing pictures, playing with the toys you’d brought, anything that made her happy. And in return, her love for you both seemed to deepen with each passing visit.

There was something undeniably special about Olivia—something that pulled you in every time you saw her. The way she would snuggle into your arms for comfort, the way she’d tug on Steve’s sleeve when she needed help, and the way her face would light up when either of you showed her affection. She had an innocence that you couldn’t help but protect, something about her that made you feel like she deserved all the love the world could give.

One afternoon, as you and Steve walked into the orphanage, you immediately spotted Olivia sitting on the floor, playing with a puzzle. She looked up when she heard your footsteps, and her face broke into a delighted grin.

“Y/n! Steve!” she called excitedly, rushing over to you both. Her little arms stretched wide, and you both knelt down to meet her, your arms open as she threw herself into your embrace.

It had become a comforting routine. Every time you walked in, the other children would eagerly welcome you, but it was always Olivia who seemed to run to you the fastest, her need for connection clear.

You and Steve made it a point to always be there, every other day. Sometimes, you’d bring toys, other times you’d just spend time with her—drawing, building things, or even just sitting and watching her play. It felt like the more time you spent with her, the more you understood her. The more you could see the layers of hurt and fear in her small eyes, but also the joy and hope that began to bloom in her as she spent time with you.

She had learned to trust you. And you had learned to love her.

One of those days, after spending the afternoon together, you and Steve walked with Olivia as she held your hand tightly, her small fingers curling around yours with a confidence she hadn’t had when you first met her.

“Are you ready to go home, sweetheart?” you asked her gently, your voice soft as you knelt down beside her.

She nodded eagerly, her face lighting up. “Home!” she repeated, the word a simple declaration that seemed to hold all the hopes and dreams of a little girl who had never truly known what it was like to have a place to call her own.

And in that moment, it hit you—the weight of it all. The idea that Olivia was waiting for someone to take her home. To give her a real family. You hadn’t expected it, but you had grown attached to her, deeply and irrevocably. The thought of her leaving the orphanage, of her being taken away by someone else, made your heart ache in a way you didn’t fully understand.

You looked at Steve, your heart in your throat. He was watching Olivia too, his eyes filled with the same love and tenderness that you felt for her.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your hand brushing against his.

He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving Olivia. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I just… I don’t know. I feel like we’re doing the right thing. Being here for her.”

You didn’t need to say anything more. You both knew what you meant.

The visits continued. Every other day, you found yourselves back in that small, brightly lit room with Olivia, spending hours just playing and talking with her. She was growing so much, and you could see the progress in her. She had become more confident, more comfortable. And every time you saw her face light up with that smile, you couldn’t help but think about her future.

As the weeks passed, you and Steve found yourselves more and more immersed in the routine of visiting Olivia. The orphanage had become a place of warmth and hope. You both began to talk about her future more—what she needed, what she deserved. You both had formed such a deep bond with her, and yet there was a nagging feeling, a longing, that neither of you could ignore.

One evening, as the winter air settled over Brooklyn and the two of you sat on the couch in your apartment, a quiet moment of stillness passed between you. The Christmas lights twinkled softly in the corner, casting a warm glow across the room.

Steve was the first to break the silence.

“Y/n,” he began, his voice low and contemplative, “I’ve been thinking a lot about Olivia lately.”

You turned your head to look at him, your heart beating a little faster. His eyes were filled with the same seriousness that you’d seen before, but this time, there was something else there—an undercurrent of hope, a quiet kind of yearning.

“I know,” you said softly. “I’ve been thinking about her a lot too. I think about her every day.”

Steve took a deep breath, his hands resting on his knees as he leaned forward slightly. “What do you think about… about becoming her parents?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you weren’t sure you heard him right. You looked at him, trying to read his face, searching for any sign that this wasn’t what it sounded like.

“What do you mean?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I mean… adopting her,” Steve said, his words slow but firm. “I can’t stop thinking about how much she needs us. How much she needs love. And I want to give that to her. I want to give her a family. I want to be her father. And I know… I know you’ve felt the same way about her.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of his words sinking deep into your heart. You had thought about it too, many times, but the reality of it, of truly becoming her parents, seemed so overwhelming. There were so many things to consider, so many uncertainties. But the thought of it—of giving Olivia a family, of offering her a real home—made your heart swell with an emotion you couldn’t describe.

“I… I do,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I love her, Steve. I love her like she’s my own. I just didn’t know if we could actually do it.”

Steve’s expression softened, and he reached for your hand, his fingers lacing through yours. “I know it’s a big step. But I think we can do it. Together. We’ve already built such a bond with her. She trusts us. She’s already looking to us for that love and security. We can give her that. We can be her family.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him. You never imagined that this was where your life would lead—to a point where you could offer a child the one thing she needed most: love and stability. And yet, as you looked at Steve, you realized that it was the one thing you both were ready for. To build a life together, with Olivia at the center of it all.

“I want to do it,” you said, your voice breaking. “I want to give her everything. I want to adopt her. I want to be her mom.”

Steve’s face lit up with the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. He pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you with a sense of finality. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice soft, full of love and relief.

“I’m sure,” you whispered, clinging to him as if your life depended on it. “I’m sure, Steve.”

And in that moment, as you held each other close, everything else faded away. The doubts, the fears—they didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was the love you both had for Olivia, and the life you were about to build together.

“Yes,” you said again, more firmly this time. “I want to adopt Olivia.”

Steve pulled back, his eyes shining with happiness and gratitude. “We’re going to be her parents. I can’t wait to give her the family she deserves.”

You smiled through your tears, your heart full of hope. This was the beginning of something beautiful, something real. A family, a future—together. And you knew, with all your heart, that this was just the beginning of the rest of your lives.

[esoterium]

@chernayavidua || that's a meme right there || accepting!

blood, sender cleans blood off of receiver. / for steve

there's always something so unsettling about the quiet that falls after the last shell casing hits the ground when the fight's, finally, over. it's as hollow as the bent brass kicked aside by tired foot inside a worn, scuffed boot. the ride there only takes about an hour. feels like a little eternity inside his chest, though. steve's limbs are heavy. like gravity's come up, wrapped itself around each one and is trying to drag him underground with every step and swing of his arm. it takes him forever to climb the stairs to the place she told him she'd be if he needed her.

he's got no idea if she's still here.

but the little key in the pocket of his uniform says he hopes so. maybe counting on it. no, not maybe. he IS. by the time he gets to her floor (cause with the messy state he's in? he can't just walk into the building and take the elevator) he's showing his discomfort in the way he grimaces and crinkles his nose while rolling his shoulder outside the short hallway that leads to the only door on this floor. her door.

the little key's pulled from the pocket on the inside of his vest. dirty, weather-beaten fingers hold it delicately and it wobbles as he puts it in the lock and twists. she's standing on the other side like she knew he had to take a second to compose himself the best he could as he gave himself the task of letting himself in.

a dull thud and his helmet hits the floor. there's bloodstains on it but they've long dried and mostly flaked off by now. he wish so much could be said about the ones dried along the corner of his mouth. the coagulated mark cut above his brow that won't leave a scar because of what's in his veins but damn sure looks like it should even though the road gave it a little bit of a healing grace. scuffed up knuckles and a bruised up face. this one took a little out of him. they haven't gotten to what's underneath the suit. bruises mostly. though the outline of brown red across a diagonal streak near his shoulder says at least one jerk landed their mark on a weak spot.

she takes his wrist and pulls him to the bathroom letting him have his silence like she knows he needs until he's the one who speaks up. the tub's running warm water by then, she's busying herself with taking off the top part of his vest. sometimes the captain and the soldier truly do show how alike they can be from growing up together. and she understands. she knows. "probably shoulda called you this time. honestly? barely knew where this was coming from..." a small grin. tired, guilty. "guess retirement's outta the question. least for now."

[walkingthroughfire-a]

Truly if Steve ever saw that a child of his was using *that* kind of language they'd be grounded for six months, tops. And be given the means to write an essay on why such language should not be used.

I don't care if Steve cusses now. His child is not cussing.

[esoterium]

there's no toe stepping. fortunately for his sake of preserving what self-confidence he has in any dance ability he might've picked up over the handful of years he's been awake versus not. and for the sake of her poor toes. he's not as light as he looks. they'd be tortured by now if he had a bad habit of stepping on them. flat as pancakes. fingers spread across the small of her back. their tips trail up to rest between her shoulders as his thumb from the opposite hand finds it's way to the thick skin just underneath hers. small circles to the beat of the song begin to be traced. slow and steady as they move inside their little box of space on the floor. he's content here. happy to have her as his partner. in his arms. casually bantering back and forth as if they have no care in the world. as if time has stopped and who they are only matters.

not what they are..

or what they represent.

the twinkle in her eye ignites the spark in his even brighter. a glow that warms his skin and makes his face appear all the younger. as if the time that's barely aged it physically has now let the finest lines that stress and worry have carved upon his skin fade the rest of the way into nothing. he laughs again. smirking as he sorts through the titles of films that the must watch trees have sent him on. little spirals of recommendations that came from sam then, eventually, were suggested by his television or whatever else he watched them on.

"mm? i think so. that was the one with the actor who played in the professor snape, right?" imagine that. two genres of pop culture. ol' cap might be becoming a real man of the modern era. or.. he's just got himself a couple of friends who won't let up on him until he says he's seen what they've asked of him. and he can't lie to them for shit.

                 THE GRIN THAT TAKES HOLD IS unrestrained and dazzling. It is so rare there needs to be photographic documentation some of their friends might tease —mainly clint and tony— as if it is some rare and otherworldly phenomenon. It isn’t and they know it, but they enjoy making the remarks. “please don’t step on my shoes. not these. they’re jimmy choo's i’ve had for years.” the warmth of his hand draws her in, and she relents, allowing the fingers of her left hand to close around his as they dance. such a strange thing, the intimacy of hands, of fingers closing around each other. she registers the calloused and rough skin of a soldier against her own smooth, soft hands. and the way her slender, perfectly manicured hand is practically engulfed in his. artists hands, she reminds herself.

                 natasha likes this, the contrast of a perceived symbol with the wear and tear of his palms, of the man behind the icon. she’s sure she can count on one hand the times she’s seen this smile of his, or the crinkle of his eyes. this is what a worry-free steve looks like and it makes her think back to ivan and his occasionally comments of working too much. you need to take time for yourself, natushka. how long has it been since you have not worked over the holidays? the holidays were always tricky business for her, especially after the incident with novoko and the subsequent struggles to regain her memory. work had helped make her feel like her old self but perhaps this year could be different. perhaps this year she would finally agree to once again host one of her infamous new year’s eve parties.

                 a brow arches and there’s a twinkle of amusement in her blue eyes. “does that mean you’ve watched love actually?”

[emjee]

hiiiiiiiiii I've had three glasses of wine and here's a WIP preview of the fic I'm calling "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood (Library)" (aka Steve Rogers gets a library card circa 2011 and quickly learns about Librarians Vs. The PATRIOT Act)

“I can help who’s next.”

The next man in line at the reference desk of the Brooklyn Public Library was so handsome that Marian’s brain quickly supplied a list of five potential nicknames for him that the staff could use among themselves if he became a regular.

“Hi, I was uh, wondering about getting a library card?”

“Sure, I can help you with that! Are you a Brooklyn resident?”

“For a long time.”

“Have you had a card with us before? If you have I’ll check and see if you’re still in our system.”

“I did, but it was a very long time ago.” Neighborhood kid, she wondered, maybe just moved back to the old stomping grounds?

“Well, we keep the records for a couple of years, and we do like to check so we avoid duplicates. What would the name on file have been?”

“Is there something else you can search by?”

“If it’s under a name you don’t use we can try address and date of birth.”

“My birthday’s July 4th.”

A year would have been helpful, but they could circle back to that. “What’s it like sharing a birthday with a country?” she asked as she started typing.

“Well, the fireworks always made me feel special when I was a kid.”

“I’m sure. Do you remember what address we might have had on file?”

He took a moment to reply, and when he did his voice was calm, but soft enough that she had to learn forward to hear him. “I don’t think it’s there anymore.”

House fire? Gentrification?

This sort of thing happened from time to time—a patron came in who clearly had a story that made getting them what they needed less straightforward that it might otherwise have been. That wasn’t a problem; sorting that sort of thing was literally what the fine people of Brooklyn paid her for, but she was always curious about people’s stories. Sometimes they told you, sometimes they didn’t. She wasn’t going to ask, though. Curiosity or no, it was ultimately none of her business.

“None of that’s a problem,” she assured him. “I can make you a new card right now, if you have an ID and proof of address. Driver’s license would work for both, or a passport, state ID, student ID plus a piece of mail…”

“This is going to sound like a silly question, probably…” He looked at the ceiling, like he was trying to figure out how to phrase it.

“No such thing,” she said lightly. “Besides, we’ve probably heard it before. Probably ten times a day.”

“If I do get a card, does anyone…know? Besides you all, I mean.”

Marian sat straighter in her chair and immediately became all business. “Not a silly question at all. Any record that identifies you by name is confidential under New York state law. We don’t even let law enforcement have it.”

A genuine grin dawned  on his face and she immediately thought of three more possible nicknames. “Seriously?”

“Not unless they’ve got a warrant or a subpoena.”

“Huh. But it would have to be under my legal name?”

“We do need to have it on file, but if you have a name you’d rather use, we can make a note in the record. That’s the name your mail would come addressed to, and what the staff would call you.”

She watched him glance down, smile, and put a hand in his pocket.

“Yeah,” he said, producing his wallet and handing her his ID. “In that case.”

She set the ID on the counter in front of her while she opened a new card registration form and didn’t give it a proper look until she had her hands on the keyboard.

Well. That certainly explained a lot.

After entering ROGERS STEVEN GRANT into the record in a rapid clatter of keyboard strokes, she glanced back up at him and said, “What would you like me to put in the preferred name field.”

He gave it a moment’s thought. “Fred.”

She couldn’t suppress a smirk. “Excellent choice. Same last name?”

“Joke’s not as good if I change it.”

“Fair point.” She grabbed a fresh card from the drawer and scanned the barcode into the system, then saved the record. “Welcome to the Brooklyn Public Library, Mr. Rogers.”

[auroralwriting]

illicit affairs

chapter one

biker!bucky barnes x stark!reader (turf war au)

miss stark begins to have doubts about her "family."

chapter two | series masterlist

warnings: violence, language, small age gap (6~ years), angst, arguing, drinking, overall crime and gang stuff, sort of enemies to lovers

Back before The Fallout, as many outsiders dubbed it, The Avengers were a tight knit group of friends in New York who were founded to change the look of "gangs," as some called them. However, not long after its beginning, its end came just as fast.

Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, the pivotal members, just couldn't decide on how The Avengers should be ran. So, they split up almost equally into two groups, each taking a part of the city to call their own.

The Northside Stark Syndicates (aka Queens) was now made up of James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Paul Bettany, who simply was nicknamed by everyone as "Vision," Clint Barton, Bruce Banner, Tony Stark, and his little sister.

The Southside Avengers (Brooklyn), who kept the original name, included Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, and Bucky Barnes.

In the previous years, Tony had kept you out of the original Avengers due to your younger, more innocent age. Now, however, in your early twenties, Tony was quick to introduce you to the life you were somewhat protected from.

"I'm telling you," Clint whined, "they gave us a look."

Vision raised an eyebrow, "I highly doubt they gave us a look. I mean, were the biggest crime unit in the city." Oh, yeah, was it mentioned that nowadays the gangs were not made to change the look of gangs? "Plus, if they really gave us a look, we all would have seen it."

You sat on your chair, scrolling through you phone bored out of your mind. Honestly, who gives a shit if someone gives a look? You surely didn't care, and neither did Bruce.

"I really don'y think it matters anyways," Bruce commented. "If they do it again, we'll just beat their asses.

"I'm gonna check it out, it's worth it." Tony decided, clapping his hands. "And for the love of god, can we stop saying the bad words around the child?"

You rolled your eyes, "I'm not a kid, Tony. I take care of myself."

"Yeah, yeah," Tony waved you off. "I'm gonna go check it out. Let's go partying after."

Rhodey gave an obnoxiously loud sigh, "I don't want to party, I just want to chill and drink. We've been partying almost every night this week. Can't we just go to some bar, watch some tv, and drink?"

"All in vote of drinking at a bar?" Clint asked as everyone raised their hands. "It's settled then."

"You're all such losers," Tony moaned. "I need new friends, seriously, you're all so fuckin' lame." Tony grabbed his knife and shoved it in his pocket. "Happy told me about this new bar, Tito's. Let's try there."

Vision looked to Tony with a confused look, "Isn't that almost on the South?"

The room got tense as Tony stared blankly at Vision. "Almost. It's like, right in the middle. We'll be fine." Infamous last words.

"This place isn't so bad," Rhodey said as the group walked in. You felt eyes on you; that happened wherever you went. "It's casual, kind of relaxing."

The six of you got seats at the bar as you all ordered your drinks. "It's alright," Tony shrugged, "Not the same as a club, but not bad." His face was a little more blue than a couple of hours ago. It was clear he roughed up those guys from earlier.

"Oh my god, Tony, give up the clubbing idea." Clint grumbled.

You took a sip of your drink as the room became oddly silent. Your eyes fell to the door. Oh, shit. In walked The Avengers, whose eyes all fell on your group just as quick as it took for your friends to notice them as well. The stares were brutal as they made their way to a booth, Steve's eyes never left Tony's. Tony's never left Steve. It was an awkward tension. Soon, a quiet chatter, more quiet than before, fell upon the bar again.

"Maybe we should just leave," You muttered softly.

"I agree, I'm not liking this tension. Also, Romanoff won't stop staring at me." Clint sighed. The two of them used to be tight, almost tighter than any other duos in the old group. It was clear their tension was wild.

Tony shook his head, "No, we were here first." Your eyes fell back to the group. It only took a moment before Sam nudged Steve, who stared right back at you. The rest of the group followed suit as you felt yourself being turned around. "Stop that, don't look at them."

"But we were before," You protested.

"And that's not now, so stop." Tony replied as you gave a small sigh.

After a few minutes, it wasn't hard to hear mumbles from the table. The only words you could clearly understand were Tony, unsuitable, and fucker.

That was all it took for Tony to jump off his chair and make his way to the booth. You found Clint's eyes, who looked just as shocked as you. The rest of you scrambled to follow.

"Don't you dare talk about me," Tony sneered, grabbing hold of Steve's collar.

Steve only smirked, "Can't take the hits to your ego?"

Vision put his hand on Tony's arm, "Let's just go, man." It hadn't been long since Tony and Steve had it out last, and that left them both bloody and blue with new marks in their records. "Let's go clubbing."

"No, I want to know what this shit-face said about me." Tony snarled, "So tell me, what'd you say?"

"Let go of him, Stark." Sam warned. "We don't want any problems tonight."

Clint kept you almost hidden behind him. While you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, you were still young. The youngest of both groups, actually. You were freshly twenty-two, Wanda was only twenty-four, but she'd been in this business much longer than you had.

"Well we're gonna have some if Rogers doesn't open his mouth." Tony responded.

"You wanna add some more blue to that face of yours?" Bucky chimed in. That was enough to break the camels back. It was no secret that if there was anyone Tony hated more than Steve, it was his best bud, Bucky. Bucky used to be a part of the mafia out on the west coast. In some off handed way, he was the reason your parents got themselves killed. Even if it wasn't Bucky's hands, Tony saw it as such. Deep down, you knew that wasn't his intentions.

Tony's fist was nearly about to hit Steve's face as you jumped forward, letting it hit your palm. The pain that shot through your hand made you wince as you tried to push Tony's hand back. "Tony, stop it. We're leaving now." Tony gave one last dark look to Steve as he turned on his heel, walking away with Bruce and Rhodey close behind him.

"Stark," Clint muttered as he grabbed your hand. "Let's go wrap this up." Vision was quick to move your arm close to your chest as his arm wrapped around you, guiding you away from The Avengers.

As you three walked away, you turned your head to see them staring at you three. No, they were just staring at you.

Back at the table, Wanda's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you okay?" She asked Steve with concern.

"I'm fine," Steve muttered, unable to peel his eyes from you.

"What?" Sam asked, noticing his lingering stare as the three of you exited the bar.

Steve shook his head, "She just took a full blown punch," He muttered under his breath.

"Probably broke her hand doing so," Natasha chimed in. "Did you see the power in that punch? She had to have at least sprained it."

Wanda screwed her face, "And Tony didn't even care. Didn't even give her a second glance."

A low hum came from Steve, "Did anyone ever meet her?" A collective head shake came from the booth.

“Didn’t Stark keep her locked away like Rapunzel?” Natasha asked, her curiosity officially peaked. “I don’t even really remember him mentioning her, besides the fact that he had a sister and she was younger.”

“I think he said she lived with their parents at the time,” Sam thoughtfully answered. “Out on the west coast. She moved here after they died, I think.”

Bucky spoke up, “But why’d she do that? She had no reason to take a hit for Steve.”

“Maybe she’s the only level headed person there,” Sam chuckled.

“Not well enough to keep them out of the mafia’s eyes,” Steve replied. “Stark’s got their attention, at least for now.”

Nat clicked her tongue, “He probably wants their help to get rid of us.”

With a small nod, Steve chided, “Which he won’t succeed in.”

“Can you bend your fingers? Move your wrist?” Clint asked carefully as Vision finished wrapping your hand. It hurt like absolute hell. It had to be sprained, maybe even broken.

You gave a hesitant reply as you tried to bend your fingers. “It hurts too much,” You shook your head. “I’m just gonna let it rest for now. I’ll try again soon. Thanks,” You mused to Vision as he gave a small smile, walking away with the medical kit.

“We need to get them back.” Tony said as he entered the room. “Rogers can’t pull some shitty stunt like that.”

Clint sighed, “Why don’t we just drop it for now? I thought the plan was to get the Asgardian Mafia to help us run them out, not kill them.”

“Killing them sounds wonderful,” Tony almost sang as he sat down. After a moment, he eyed your hand. “Hey, how’s that hand?”

You rolled your eyes, “Not great, thanks to you”

Tony’s face fell, “Hey, you shouldn’t have blocked my punch!” Tony angrily responded.

“You shouldn’t have started a fight in the middle of some bar we’ve never been to!” You argued in response. “It was stupid and it was reckless.”

“I’m gonna get the Hydra boys to fuck with them a little,” Rhodey announced from his spot on the couch where he was silently observing. “Maybe let them fuck ‘em up a bit.”

The Hydra boys were no good around here. They weren’t necessarily a gang, nor mafia. Maybe at one point they were, but now they were now just asses who loved to put their noses where they didn’t belong. The south had their own, too, called Shield. They were known to be more tolerable, less willing to do whatever anyone wanted. You had to know them to get their help.

“Don’t involve Hydra. They’re no good, really. I think they do more than they say they do.” Vision called out from the bathroom where he was putting away the medical kit.

“Then I’ll call The Guardians,” Rhodey shrugged. “They’ll do anything for an extra buck.”

Tony shrugged, “Fine with me, Quill’ll fuck them up really good. Make sure they all bleed, and tell Quill to get it on photo.” You got nervous at his words. Sure, tensions had been high lately, but it had never been this bad before.

Tony’s words made you reconsider everything that had been happening. Things were getting too serious too fast. Even worse, Tony no longer listened to your warnings. He was getting angrier by the second. Deep down, you knew things needed to change, and that started with helping the other side to gain some trust.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Pure Heroine Series Part Six - Still Sane

Summary: You and Wanda have been friends for years, but now, you're grown up. Nothing stays as it was. | Album Inspired series "Pure Heroine" by Lorde.

Warnings: (+18), mutual Pining, friends to lovers, fluff, some typical trope angst, high school to college, making out, drinking, substance abuse, fighting, implied compulsory heterosexuality. | Words: 1.426k

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Pure Heroine Collection |

-&-

The reason for the delay was traffic.

Wanda didn't mind, not as long as her cigarette was lit at least.

The party was going on inside Steve Rogers' apartment, and Brooklyn was full and bustling on the balcony view. The cigarette on her lips came from the box she'd taken from your jacket pocket before you left earlier, and Wanda could smile to herself imagining your grimace when you realized she'd stolen your cigarettes. Perhaps it was a childish way of punishing you for working on her birthday, when after everything that had happened between you, what Wanda wanted most was to keep you by her side, all the time if possible.

While smoking on Steve Rogers' cold balcony, she came to two conclusions: She really was, undeniably and ridiculously in love with you. From here to the moon, and all that cheesy shit they quoted in the movies. Maybe she should get a ring. And the second thing, Wanda wanted to have sex with you tonight.

She blew smoke into the sky, imagining your reaction when she brought up the subject. Flushed cheeks, a hungry look in your eyes, like every time the make-out sessions got heated and she played with the lobe of your ear between her teeth. Maybe she wouldn't say anything. She was just going to wait for everyone to leave the party, and drag you into the bedroom. And pull your hand under her dress so you'd get the message.

The opening of the door took her attention away from the street.

"Hey, birthday girl." It was Natasha, with a casual smile and a leather jacket. She held out her hand, and Wanda handed her the cigarette. "You're not running away from your own party, are you?"

Wanda smiled at the provocation, shaking her head. "I just needed a moment." She mutters, looking down for a moment. "I'm going to tell Y/N tonight that I want to sleep with her."

Nat choked on the drag with a surprised laugh. "Shit, this... is actually good news." She comments good-humoredly. "But to be honest, I thought you two had done that ages ago."

Wanda chuckles, rolling her eyes. "We've almost done it a dozen times." She comments thoughtfully. "Especially when it became official. But then, it just didn't happen. Someone always interrupted, or one of us chickened out." She says sincerely. "I came so close to fucking everything up, Nat. Like, actually fucking us. And I don't think I ever thanked you for calling her that day. Without that, I don't think we would have ever gotten together."

Natasha takes a long drag, shaking her head. "I doubt that very much, Maximoff." She says, gesturing with her cigarette. "You and her have some pretty intense shit going on. Ever since we were kids, you know? More than the Steve and Bucky drama, and I swear to God that's something." The two laugh at the comment. Natasha hands Wanda back her cigarette. "I think if you'd never apologized, you'd end up OD'ing at one of these parties and Y/N would be the person next to your bed."

Wanda looks away, swallowing dry at the mere possibility. When she speaks again, her voice is hoarse. "I don't fucking deserve her."

Nat clicks her tongue indignantly. "Don't say that."

"It's the truth."

"Wanda, shut up." Natasha speaks more seriously and waits for the girl to raise her eyes to her again. "You made a mistake, but there's no one in this world who deserves to be with her more than you do. Have you forgotten how you were there for her with her parents' divorce, or when her grandmother passed away? Because I'm sure she hasn't. And she stays, not just because she's completely in love but because you've already done the same for her. So stop talking shit, and don't let these insecurities try to ruin what you've fought to build."

Wanda hugs Nat around the neck, the girl laughs in surprise but strokes her back. The brunette murmurs a muffled thank you into her friend's hair, and Natasha nods. 

A moment later, the moment is broken with a joke about Wanda not being able to keep her pants on, and they leave the balcony into the party laughing.

-&-

You know there's something different.

From the way Wanda looked at you when you arrived, or kissed you in the hallway, pressing your back against the wall and biting your lip before dragging you into the party.

She stayed on your lap almost all night, between games and small talk, until she made a complete mess of you when she licked the cake icing off the corner of your mouth.

She was wildly flirting with you until the tie around your neck started to tighten.

When the punch ran out, and she asked you to help her get some bottles of wine with her in the kitchen, Wanda ended up pressed against the fridge, your hungry tongue on hers and your hands everywhere.

"What are you up to, Wanda?" Your question came against her jaw as she paused for breath. The girl squirmed between you and the fridge, her skin burning and her hips impatient. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." She lies in a falsely innocent tone directly into your ear. Nails scratching your back under your shirt are returned with a hickey on her collarbone that makes her whimper. 

You gasp affectedly, holding her still with a tight grip on her hips, unable to formulate any new sentence if she kept grinding against you like that. "You've been driving me crazy all night, baby. Would it be rude for us to flee your party? I really want to take you home..."

Truth be told, she was so turned on that all that came out of her throat was a pathetic plea. You kissed her again until her knees gave way and Wanda began to consider taking off her clothes in the middle of Steve Rogers' kitchen.

But somehow, you managed to let go and return to the party with her hand in yours; blurry, automatic goodbyes now that the cake was cut, and Wanda was hugged by everyone before she was outside.

You took her downstairs, hand in hand, which you only released to get into the parked car. Wanda let out a shaky breath and you leaned towards her again.

The thought of the two of you getting home was almost comical now.

Your hands pulled her onto your lap effortlessly, as you gasped into each other's mouths. Wanda sucked on your tongue, her hips grinding against your lap in the hope that you would help her with the hot knot at the tip of her stomach, and a loud whine when your hands wasted no time. Your fingers pushed the fabric of her panties away and sank into her with ease, the warmth welcoming you deep inside.

The kiss was broken with a dirty moan, and you almost came just from the image. Wanda gripped your shoulders tightly, panting against your mouth as she rode your fingers. 

The car rocked gently, and you let your free hand pull her dress down, exposing her breasts. Your fingers moved to play with her nipples, and Wanda moaned against your tongue.

She came just like that, hard and so pretty, for the first time against your hand. In the seat of the car where you had traveled together dozens of times before, looking at you in a way that at the same time was the same and the most unique way she ever did. A hidden message in her stare that you understood with your heart.

You didn't pull out your fingers from her to tell her you loved her as well.

In fact, you sank them deeper and spun them around her warmth to elicit another moan from her. She choked on her own pleading sighs, and you repeated the movements and the words. Wanda moved against your hand and came again before whimpering:

"I love you too, baby."

And you were still her best friend and the person who could tease her with a breathless giggle: "Really, or is that just the two orgasms talking?"

She chuckled too, more affectedly. "Fuck you."

Your thumb pressed her clit, and Wanda bit your shoulder to stifle a loud moan. "I love you too, asshole." You retorted, kissing her jaw. "But you'll have to say it again tomorrow when you're not riding my fingers."

Wanda bites your mouth to make you shut up.

[ynstark]

"Silent Waves and First Embrace" - a prequel to "His Angel"

Title: "Silent Waves and First Embrace" - a prequel to "His Angel"

Characters/Pairings: Post!Endgame!Steve Rogers x Female!Adoptive!Stark!Virgin!Reader

Summary: The beginning of the Reader's and Steve's new "relationship".

Word Count: 3k+

Reader is in her 20s and Steve is in his mid 30s.

Minors DNI! Please and thank you!

Contents/Warnings: Lack of self care, grief, mentions of multiple major character deaths, talks of death, depression, talks of not eating, but not an eating disorder, talks about wanting to die, not suicide, reader has an anxiety attack, reader has trauma and ptsd, it's just an overall shit show, but I promise it ends well, grab tissues, hopefully I listed them all, if I didn't please let me know!

Author's Note: Grab your tissues and get ready to cry. Here's the prequel! I'm so happy this is finally out of my drafts! I know I promised this like weeks ago, but I wanted to get it perfect. I was going to make this into two parts, but I figured out a way to weave them together. I used Y/n to refer to the reader. I changed some of the plot in Endgame. The major change (which I would like to apologize in advance for, I know some people will not like it) is that the reader was with Nat and Clint on Vormir. If you read part one of His Angel, you know that Steve never went back to Peggy. I kept Steve passing down the mantle of Captain America to Sam, I just didn't write about it. Steve is like a secret consultant to the avengers that only a few people know about, that's the vibe I'm going with. I made the reader a paralegal, it was the first thing that came to mind. Part two of His Angel is in the works and I'm also going to write a part three!

I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors. I'm only human. Do not repost my work anywhere. Likes and reblogs are welcomed and appreciated. Thank you for all the love and support on part one! Peace and love, enjoy. 🤍

Star Divider by: @enchanthings ⭐

Today was one of those days when the big and brave Captain America just wanted to be Steve Rogers. A scrawny little kid from Brooklyn. He wanted to leave the flood gates open, with all his emotions on the table. Instead, he'd put on his Captain's hat to bear in front of the team. To unity them in a time of immense grief. He'd convince everyone that he was fine and that everything was going to be okay, even when the world had just lost their best defender. Steve had to be the one to hold up the torch. He would shine the light in this new and dark reality, that they would come to accept eventually.

He looked into the mirror to check if his tie was in place, when he heard a knock at his door. Steve wasn't expecting anyone. He checks through the peep hole and sees no one, he doesn't sense any danger. Opening his door, he looks down to see a package addressed to him. He couldn't find a name of the sender anywhere. He picks it up and looks around again before closing and locking the door. Opening the package, he finds a cube. Taking it out, he places it on the kitchen table, noticing a small light start to blink.

"Friday is this thing on? Oh, wait. I got it!" Tony Stark appears in the hologram flesh.

"Hopefully you can hear me, and see me, new tech! Cool right, life size me or past life size me I should say." Steve stood in awe. It had been a while since he heard and saw his friend. He sits down at the table.

"So I recorded a few of these. I update them about every few years or so. You know, to stay current with whatever world disaster decides to strike the planet. Your name was added to the list this year, only a lucky bunch has the honor of receiving one. Cue the confetti!" Actual confetti bursted out from the cube.

"Ah! Tony!" Now Steve's floor was covered in an unexpected and definitely not welcomed rainbow surprise. Leaving him slightly annoyed, slightly. A few pieces landing in his hair. He shakes his head to get them out, vowing to clean the rest of the mess up later. Steve was already running late as it was to Tony's memorial.

"Like that feature?" Tony smirked, "Yeah, I only did that to yours." Steve rolls his eyes at the late billionaire. Of course.

"Obviously, I'm dead, no shocker there, it was going to happen at some point. Now you probably wonder, what could this schmuck possibly want from beyond the grave. Well, it's about Y/n. I'm calling in a favor Cap. With Nat and I gone, I honestly don't know who to trust more with the one person who can't trust at all. I don't know a better man for the job, or I'd be knocking at his door instead."

"I left the other non-biological child to Happy, he's too much of a fanboy of yours. Sure, he'll take everything you say in, but that would be boring for you, too easy. As for Morgan and Pepper, they'll have Y/n, but someone needs to be there for her first, because she's going to want to be there for everyone else, but herself. Which is where you come in." Steve couldn't believe what Tony was saying.

"Let's be real, you need a new challenge anyway. Life was gonna get pretty dull without us. I know you though. You can't run away from a problem. You always need something to fix or in this case, someone. All you gotta do is show up and listen. She somehow finds a crack, slips through, and rebuilds herself. It'll take awhile. She just needs a little glue now and then. Reassurance. The only thing I would say is, if she asks for a hug, that's when I know something is really wrong, and then the worry kicks in." This was a side of Tony that Steve rarely saw.

"In all seriousness, I know we never talked about what happened after the accords, we chose sides, two different extremes. We kinda just had a mutual understanding and shelved it. Especially since, "the planet being at stack" was looming over our heads again. Now I come to you at the time of my possible death. It's fitting honestly, we could never really have these types of conversations, without something going to shit to get us here."

"I can't shake this feeling that death is- might, might be knocking at my doorstep soon, and leaving the people I love the most behind, scares me." Tony took a long pause.

"I'm sorry." Two words that Steve never thought he would ever hear Tony utter out. He could hear the heaviness it carried. The apology wasn't just for the accords. It was for everything that had happened between them, throughout the years of knowing each other.

"I can't force you. I've attempted that before, it didn't go so great if we both recall. You could just ignore this message entirely, heck send it to the moon! I did install that feature by the way, for your entertainment. For how many times you did want to rocket me up there, now you can." Tempting. Steve continued to listen.

"I know this is a big ask, especially coming from me, and if taking her on is a burden, I understand. No judgment. I know that you always wanted to "get a life", finally rest, but, this is Y/n we're talking about. My daughter, Y/n. I took on the role of being a father to her way before I adopted her. I can't leave her to the wolves Steve. Someone needs to be there for her so she can be there for Pep and Morgan, because she is not going to let anyone else do that." Steve could see the earnestness in Tony's eyes. He felt a twinge of honor strike him that Tony would trust him with you. Your safety and well being took precedent. That was becoming abundantly clear to him.

"Well, I'm gonna go before this gets more awkward, it's completely out of character for us to sit here and have a pow-wow. Thank you for listening. Hopefully, you'll take my favor into consideration."

"I know I didn't say it much or ever but, Dad wasn't all that wrong, you can be pretty great sometimes. Thanks Cap, for everything."

The hologram shut down. Steve ponders on Tony's request. He wasn't wrong. Life was starting to get boring without them. Taking you on would be a challenge for sure, but defiantly not a burden. Steve likes you. Not in a romantic way (yet), but you were pleasant to be around, very cordial and respectful. You didn't cause problems and Nat always spoke highly of you. Your dark sense of humor did scare him sometimes though, but that wasn't anything new, he dealt with Tony's for years. You're also extremely resourceful and reliable on missions. Except Tony wasn't talking about taking care of you on missions. This was about the future. Your future, where a man who was and will always be a father to you, was now gone. Your life was being turned upside down. Steve knew in that moment that he couldn't turn his back on Tony, or on you.

Friday's voice pulls Steve back into reality.

"Would you like me to send this message to the moon Captain Rogers?" Steve lets out a deep laugh. Tony, you son of a bitch.

"As entertaining as that would be, no. Thank you Friday." the AI shuts down. Steve puts the cube away, intending for it to stay hidden forever. Before heading out the door, he looks into the mirror again. Captain face on, accepting his new mission. Ready to lead the team one final time, and ready to be there for you for the rest of his life.

It had been a few days since the memorial.

Happy took Morgan out for the day to give you and Pepper a break. To give you both time to focus on yourselves. Sadly, you were doing the complete opposite. You were dissociating. You couldn't bring your mind to the new reality you were facing. Most of your energy was focusing on the well being of Pepper and Morgan, and everyone else. Only reserving a small amount for yourself. Barely. You hadn't been eating either. What's the point. It's not like anyone noticed, or so you thought.

You sat in your bed, head against the window, looking out towards the lake. You were completely lost in your own world that you didn't notice Steve standing in your doorway until he knocked. It pulled you out of your trance to look in his direction.

"Can I come in?" Steve asked.

"Can't stop you." You shifted your eyes back towards the window. Steve's gaze was too piercing for yours. He sat down in the chair across from your bed. The silence started to engulf your room.

"Did you eat anything today?" He pried, you didn't say a word. He noticed your eyes shift slightly, you'd been caught. Your silence was enough for an answer. Also, Pepper had noticed and ratted you out to him.

"I was thinking of stopping at that diner down the road. Wanna join me?" Steve continued, he was met with more silence, he didn't like it. The silence and you loosing the will to take care of yourself. That job was in his hands now.

"Y/n?" You continued to not acknowledge him.

"Y/n, you have five seconds to agree or I'll put you over my should-" You cut him off.

"Yeah right, I'd love to see you try. I'm tired Steve."

"Oh I wonder why." You roll your eyes at his response. He didn't seem like he was going to leave anytime soon until he got what he wanted. Stubborn son of a bitch.

"Fine, I'll go, happy?" The sarcasm rolling off your tongue like a second language.

"Ecstatic. I'll grab your coat, meet me downstairs." Steve left you in your room. Once he got to the top of the steps, he took a deep breath. Tony, you left me an impossible task.

He went back downstairs, coming face to face with a worried Pepper.

"How is she?" Pepper asked, exhaustion plastered on her face.

"Best that she can be. I've convinced her to come with me and get some food. Hopefully she'll eat something." He gave her a small smile of hope.

"That's good, every time I try to ask, she gives me the same old "I'm fine." routine." Steve could tell Pepper was at a breaking point.

"Are you going to be okay Pepper?"

"I will be." She pauses. "Happy should be back soon with Morgan. He said he would stay a few more days here with us, keep us company." She tried to look convincing to the captain, but Steve saw right through. Tears started to fall from her eyes. Steve immediately embraced her in a hug which she greatly accepted.

"If you need anything, I'm a phone call away. You sure you don't want me to wait here until they get back? I don't mind at all." Steve assured her.

"The offer is incredibly sweet, but I'm positive. I'm okay, thank you Steve." She signed in solace as they pulled away from each other. They heard your footsteps coming down the stairs, Pepper quickly wiping her tears away. Steve turned to look at you. You looked so small, but also like you were going to set the world on fire, and not in a good way.

"Ready?" He asked, grabbing your coat and helping you put it on. You gave Pepper a hug and assured her that you'd be back soon. Pepper was relived that you were finally getting out of the house and doing something for yourself.

The drive was painfully silent. Steve wanted to know what was going on in your head. He guided you inside the diner, and asked for a booth in the back, away from the crowd.

He opened his menu and started to peruse. Taking a quick glance up at you. Your menu closed, head in hand and looking out the window.

"So, I hear you're a paralegal. What type of cases do you work on?" He asked, looking up from his menu, trying to strike up a conversation. Steve knows everyone grieves in different ways, he was trying to figure out yours. What he did figure out early on was that you're hard to read. Even with his heightened abilities, he couldn't pin point your emotions. Usually, Steve could read the terrain of any situation pretty well. Once in a blue moon, he could even read Nat, but you, you were uncharted waters.

"Really Rogers, you're asking me about my job?" You glance at him.

"Honestly Y/n I don't know what to do, I don't know what you need. I'm trying to navigate this. Please tell me what you need, or at least tell me what's going on in your head." You looked at him, finally turning the rest of your body to face him.

"Well for starters, you pulled me out of my room, which is the only place I ever feel safe, and two, we're in public. That's something I actively try to avoid."

"I just-" You cut him off.

"Right now, I want a bomb to drop on me, or Thor to strike me down with lightning. I've asked God to do it, but he won't answer."

"Y/n-" You cut him off again.

"Tony was right about you. All you do is intervene, and force your way into people's problems, until it's fixed your way. They end up just going insane! It's smothering! You're smothering Steve! You don't listen at all! Please, just listen. If you're asking me what I need, I just need someone to listen."

Listen. Tony did say to listen. Listening he could do, but he realized how difficult it would be for him. Everyone knows that Steve likes to fix problems, but he could listen or at least try his best to. It beats the silence you were giving him a minute ago. "Okay, I'll listen, lay it on me Y/n."

You starred at him blankly, surprised by his response. "Well, I- I got it all out now." You cross your arms, trying to close yourself off from him.

Steve's lips lift into a small smile. Your eyes meeting his. He's never really looked at you before until now. Your Bambi like eyes. How beautifully your hair fell, or the shape of your cute nose and inviting lips. Wait a minute.

"What'll it be?" A waitress appeared to take your order, snapping Steve back into the present from his daydream about you. He looks back at his menu, trying to make a quick decision of what he wanted. You turned your attention back towards the window again. You definitely weren't going to order at all. Steve gave the waitress his order and at the very last second, he squeezed in an order for you. Steve handed the menus back to the waitress and thanked her. As she walked off, you gave Steve a small glare.

"I said I would come, I didn't say I would order something." You huffed in annoyance.

"You didn't order, I did." You roll your eyes at him.

"I'm not eating it." So close, Steve thought. He thought he had actually gotten somewhere with you.

"Okay, I've listened, now you're going to listen." The captain's voice in him had activated. That got your attention real quick.

"I know you're hurting, horrifically. I don't expect a smile or a thank you from you or anything else for that matter. You're fuming and hurting beyond belief. But I need to make sure you're going to be okay and that you can take care of yourself. Pepper is worried. You taking care of everyone else but yourself is harming you. You're going to burn out Y/n! You know I can't let that happen to you! What would happen to Morgan if something happened to you. She can't loose you too." You turned away from him. Steve was hitting a nerve in you.

"Y/n, look at me." Steve gently commanded. Reaching out to lightly grab your hand to get your attention. You pulled away and looked back at him, your eyes starting to glaze.

"You don't get it." You voiced softly. You slid out of the booth and ran out of the diner. Steve called out to you. He got up and chased after you into the parking lot.

"Y/n! Y/n wait!"

"NO! You don't get it! They're gone Steve! Really really gone! They're not coming back and I'm left here alone and I- I can't-" You were hyperventilating, trying to catch your breath. You put your hands on your knees as your body was setting into a panic. Tony and Nat knew a version of you that no one else would ever know. You could be your complete and most vulnerable self with them. You couldn't be like that with anyone else. Ever.

Steve tried to approach you.

"No just-" You put a hand up to stop him from coming closer. Steve stopped in his tracks. You dropped to sit on the pavement, still trying to catch your breath. Steve felt a few tears start to prick at his eyes, the captain facade he'd been wearing was starting to melt away. The one thing that you were wrong about was that he did get it. They weren't coming back. The world regained everyone while you two lost part of the only family you ever knew.

"Morgan will never know the full capacity of her father's love. She only got to experience a fraction of what I got and I'm not even his daughter! I'm just an employee's child that was cast aside! That he decided to take pity on!" Steve knew that wasn't true, Tony thought the world of you.

"And Nat, I couldn't save her. I tried to convince her to let me jump, but she- she- right in front of-" You breathing was becoming erratic.

"She knew if she knocked out Clint first, I- I would be no match for her. I wasn't strong enough to stop her, and when she let- she let go of my-." The loss of breath came back tighter than ever. It felt like your body was going to collapse in on itself. You clutched your chest as your tears flooded down your cheeks. You couldn't finish that sentence. It was too excruciating to speak.

Steve was breaking on the inside for you. You were carrying a vast burden of guilt that you shouldn't have been carrying from the beginning. He would know, he'd be doing it his entire life. A few moments had passed when Steve heard your tiny plea.

"Can you hold me? Please?" It came out so quiet. You looked up at him, your whole being shattered. The worry that Tony had mentioned to Steve came over him. In an instant, he pulled you up into his arms. Trying to give off the most warm embrace he could emit. You felt so cold, he could feel your body go limp a little. You'd finally let a huge weight off your chest, and in a way, so did he. Steve may have given up the mantle of Captain America, but now he took on a new one.

Your protecter.

"Don't let me go." A few more tears trickled out. Your breathing settling back to a steady pace as you accepted Steve's warmth.

"I won't, I'm not going anywhere." Steve cradled you as close as he possible could to his chest. "I promise." A oath he was willing to keep and never break.

With the silence broken, and a new warmth found. They both realized that they needed each other more than ever. A friendship was born. Little did they know, it would blossom into something more.

Hope you enjoyed! 🤍

[fancoloredglasses]

Captain America (Could you stop the film, please? I think I'm going to be sick), part 1

(Thanks to Chas Blankenship)

[All images are owned by Marvel Disney and 21st Century Films MGM. Please don’t sue me]

Oh gods…where to start…

First off, I had previously reviewed a pre-MCU interpretation of Captain America. This film, made over a decade later, was supposed to be a theatrical release in conjunction with the 50th anniversary of the character. Unfortunately, it missed the anniversary by a year…as a direct-to-DVD release (mainly due to reviews being savage). I’ll get to the bad acting and poor writing choices lates, but I want to address on HORRIBLE costuming choice first…

CAPTAIN AMERICA’S COWL HAS RUBBER EARS!

WHY?!?!

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way…

One of the first issues with the film is casting an inexperienced actor in the title role:

Matt Salinger, son of Catcher In The Rye author JD Salinger. Now, I’m not saying nepotism was involved, but…

Salinger looked the part but lacked the ability to pull off being the center of attention. The writing certainly didn’t help matters either.

Of course, you can’t have a Captain America film without the Red Skull. However, in this film he is not Johann Schmidt, Nazi (and VERY German) zealot who volunteered for the procedure that transformed him. Instead, he is Tadzio de Santis, an Italian boy who was kidnapped after his family was slaughtered by Mussolini’s forces, then subjected to the procedure and brainwashed.

There are one or two names worth mentioning in the cast (neither of the main characters are) that I’ll cover when they’re introduced, but now…on with the show.

If you would like to watch the film, it’s available out YouTube or behind your favorite paywall.

We open in Italy in 1936, 3 years before the start of WW2 (for those who didn’t pay attention in history class) where a young boy is doing a piano recital (with a tape machine recoding it for posterity) in his home when Italian troops break through the window and enter (wouldn’t the front door be easier since you’re destroying property anyway?)  The father objects and is gunned down for his trouble. Mussolini then orders the boy to be taken as his troops slaughter the rest of the family while they make him watch.. Why this particular boy?

Oh sure, that makes sense. Take a prodigy against his will and kill his family. I’m sure he’ll be totally cooperative after that! Besides, the kid is what, thirteen at most? Surely there are genius adults they could recruit, or maybe Mussolini could’ve just appealed to the family’s sense of patriotism and asked for the boy for the good of the country.

 We then switch to an Italian fortress where we have an Italian officer showing a bunch of German officers a film of a rat for some reason, then reveals…

…and this is a good thing???

The Italian claims the rat is much stronger and more intelligent (yeah, but good luck getting it a date in Saturday night!)

We are then introduced to Dr. Vaselli, who created the process (as opposed to Dr. Erskine in the comics, since he’s German and the producers wanted to do this in Italy for some reason), who is appalled that the military is using her process on the bot (you mean she’d be less appalled if they used it on an adult?) so they have her restrained, but she breaks free and flees.

We then fast forward to 1943 (three years after Cap’s comic debut? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to kidnap an older lad and have this be 1940?)

President Roosevelt is being briefed on Project Rebirth, which is Dr. Veselli’s research now in the hands of the Americans.

The President is told that the first volunteer (at least he wasn’t kidnapped?) as a man named Steve Rogers. Should the test be successful, many more will follow.

Out in California (wait, isn’t Steve from Brooklyn? Can’t the writers get ANY details right?) Steve gives a tearful goodbye to his friends and family before Uncle Sam comes to retrieve him.

Steve is then whisked away to a secret lab, where Steve is pumped full of whatever Vaselli’s formula is and electricity until……

(Thanks to Video Club Random)

[QUICK NOTE: Lt. Fleming is played by Bill Mumy, who played Will Robinson on Lost In Space and Lennier on Babylon 5)

With Vaselli dead, Steve Rogers (Code Name: Captain America) is the first and last of America’s super soldiers. Unfortunately, he was critically injured from his gunshot wounds. Col. Louis (Played by Michael Nouri, who played the Love Interest in Flashdance) tells the doctor to patch him up quick because the Axis has a rocket capable of targeting anywhere in the world, including onto US soil, within a week. So no pressure or anything.

As the doctor leaves, Steve forces himself up and wants to know where he’s going in order to stop that rocket.

Within hours, they’re on a plane.

…with Captain America trying out his new fireproof outfit (with his new shield) Once over the area the launch site is supposed to be hidden, Cap parachutes down.

(Thanks to TheMovieDump)

As the rocket speeds toward Washington…

(Thanks again to Video Club Random)

(The boy’s name is Tom Kimball, whose family happened to be visiting Washington. You’ll be hearing about him again in about 50 years)

Later, in Alaska…

…the rocket crashes, but somehow doesn’t explode. Instead, it buries itself in the ice.

Later, when the Kimballs go home to Ohio, young Tom tells the story about the rocket to his best friend, Sam Kolawetz.

Eventually, the war ended and time marched on until 1993 (3 years after this movie was made; again, why not set he WW2 bit in 1940, then have the present be 1990 (which would be Cap's 50th anniversary)) where young Tom Kimball has grown up to become President Thomas Kimball (Played by Ronny Cox, who was Lt. Bogomil in the Beverly Hills Cop franchise and Dick Jones in RoboCop)

He is preparing to travel to Rome for an environmental summit (considering we’re STILL trying to fight climate change, you can guess how successful it will be)

Before he leaves, Kimball meets with General Fleming (who is NOT played by Bill Mumy, but Darren McGevin (who voiced the crime lord Tony Dracon on Gargoyles)), who seems to give Kimball a veiled threat to cancel the summit.

Let’s switch to Italy and a familiar stronghold we last saw 50 years ago.

…where the Red Skull isn’t so red or skull-y anymore (and is sporting a shiny new prosthetic hand so the actor doesn’t have to pretend he doesn’t have one) Skull is holding a summit of his own to oppose Kimball’s environmental agenda. His compatriots want to kill Kimball, but Skull suggest a brain implant to control him instead.

Meanwhile in Alaska, a group of explorers discover.…

OK, if Cap was THAT close to the surface, then there’s no way (a) he’d be frozen enough for suspended animation and (2) it would’ve taken 50 years to discover him!

The explorers cut through the ice and bring the block of Cap-sicle to their base camp. Suddenly the block shatters and…

…Captain America is alive, well, and very fucking confused. He walks out of the tent into the cold (is he trying to become an ice cube again?)

Later, at the White House, Kimball is reading the morning paper…

Kimball pulls out the photo he took of the man on the rocket from 50 years ago to discover it’s the same person (or at least the same outfit) He then calls Sam Kolawetz (now a reporter for the Washington Dispatch…

...played by Ned Beatty, best known for being Lex Luthor’s flunky in Superman and getting sodomized in Deliverance) Sam (because Kolawetz is too hard to consistently spell) starts going on about the legend of the Red Skull and the man in the ice could be a link to the Skull.

Meanwhile in Rome, Skull is making plans for Kimball’s visit. He wants to know where Kimball will be at all times and any dirt his people can dig up on his Secret Service agents. Then he gets the morning paper and sees…

He then tasks his daughter Valentina (wait, you mean someone had a kid with him? Well, that would explain the change in his appearance) to deal with the good Captain.

Later, in the Great White North (What? You can’t expect Cap to get from Alaska to the Lower 48 without going through Canada!) Cap is wandering aimlessly when helicopters (led by Valentina) approach and Sam is driving toward his location. Cap ducks into the woods, so Valentina has the choppers land and she and a couple of goons give chase on motorcycles they just happened to have aboard (why? Couldn’t the choppers be armed and shoot at Cap from the air?) Cap manages to somehow lose all of the goons except Valentina.

(Thanks to Tales From SYL Ranch DARKROOM)

Cute, but there’s no way in hell anyone else would be dumb enough to fall for that.

To be fair to Cap, just a day ago by his reckoning he was in a war against the Germans and the Japanese.

As Cap drives away, he thumbs through Sam’s notebook (after all, he was frozen before it was ill advised to drive while distracted), checking a map to discover he’s in Canada, and drives until he’s out of gas.

Packing up the notebook and disguising himself (good thing Sam had an overcoat that just happened to be Steve's size) he hikes until nightfall, where he finds a truck stop and a trailer that the driver apparently forgot to lock.

…falling asleep next to the Champaign of Canadian Beers as the truck drives through the night, eventually ending up in Steve Rogers’s hometown.

…eventually realizing this isn’t 1943. He finds his girlfriend’s (Bernice) home, but when he approaches the owner (who looks a lot like her)…

She then calls for her mother to call the cops, but…

…her mother’s his old flame (emphasis on old, since it’s been 50 years) and reality finally sets in.

Meanwhile in Italy, Valentina reports failure, but somehow she bugged Sam.

However, all the Skull can think about is her inability to kill Captain America (he shouldn’t be so hard on her. After all, he couldn’t do it either) and sends her away.

Back in Washington, Sam is tracking down the origins of Captain America.

Wait, if that file is Top Secret, how the hell did he get his hands on it?

Sam goes through the file and finds the hometown of Steve Rogers. He immediately calls President Kimball (remember him?) to give him the news (Wouldn’t Kimball have security clearance for that file, being the President and all?)

So naturally, Valentina now has the information and can improve her father’s opinion of her.

Back in California, Bernice' daughter daughter (Sharon) is letting Steve crash until he gets himself caught up. While at Bernice’s place…

…Sam has shown up looking for Steve Rogers. Suddenly he’s shot from behind (nice to see Ned Beatty continues to be cast as the guy who gets shit on)…

…as Valentina storms in looking for Captain America!

At Sharon’s place, Steve is caught up and realizes Sam was telling the truth, and that the Red Skull is still alive. He remembers Vaselli kept a diary that might have Skull’s actual name. Then the phone ring.

We then shift to outside Bernice’s home, where the occupants are being loaded into emergency vehicles and the place has been cordoned off as a crime scene! Sharon’s father is alive despite being shot, but Sam and Bernice…

…refused to talk and paid the price!

The next morning at the hospital, Sharon sits with her father and turns on the TV to comfort him when a Special Report airs.

Well, THAT can’t be good!

Looks like Captain America is taking a trip to Rome (where Kimball was abducted), but first Steve needs Veselli’s diary. Sharon takes Steve to the diner where the lab was hidden. Surprisingly, it hasn’t been converted into a Denny’s yet. Steve goes to the spot where the secret door should be, only it’s a ladies room now.

As management calls the cops, Valentina and her goons arrive at the diner (how did Steve not know he was being tailed?) Steve then finds a space between studs and punches a hole through the drywall to find the secret door into the remains of the lab.

Steve finds the diary as Valentina’s goons arrive at the diner, guns waving. Steve and Sharon hide as Valentina enters the lab. They manage to sneak out while Valentina’s back is turned, but…

What? You didn’t think Valentina would plan for that? Steve uses the darkness to play cat-and-mouse with the goons, making short work of them. They then leave before the cops arrive. Sharon goes through the diary (so she can read Italian?) and while it doesn’t give the Red Skull’s name, it does give the town where he’s from.

So…trip to Italy?

CAN Captain America save the President?

WILL Steve and Sharon become An Item?

WHO the hell thought ANY of this was a good idea?

These questions and more will be answered in the exciting conclusion!

[holylulusworld]

A fresh start (2) - Post everything

Summary: The world is safe. Thanos is gone. What now?

Pairing: Pre-Endgame!Steve Rogers x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, shy reader, plussized reader, virgin reader, fluff, falling in love

Written for my 16.666 followers celebration. Requested by @elle14-blog1​

A fresh start masterlist

16.666 followers ‘16 days of requests’ celebration

<< Part 1

It was three months after you met Steve for the first time that you ended up inviting him over for dinner after the meeting ended.

He hastily agreed and smiled coyly. Steve Rogers is a hero, a strong super-soldier, but he’s still the shy guy from Brooklyn who tries to figure out how to talk to a woman.

“Steve, hi,” you opened the door the moment he wanted to knock. Eager to see him again. Even though, you parted ways with him not two hours ago. “Come in.”

Steve stepped inside, feeling his heart flutter when he looked around your apartment above your grandmother’s bakery. It was just like he imagined. Warm. Inviting. A home.

“Uh-I brought wine, and these,” he offers a bouquet of roses to you. “I didn’t know if you like wine, but I wanted to bring something with me. It’s white wine.”

“It’s fine. We can have it with the fish.” You smiled softly. “I have to admit, I don’t know much about wine. Sorry, I’m not much of a drinker.”

“Me neither,” he said. “I can’t feel the influence because of the serum. But I like the taste. Let me open it for you.”

“Ever the gentleman, Captain,” you teased and walked toward the dining room. “I’m ready to serve the food. If you open the wine, I can take care of the food.”

“Let me lend you a hand, doll. I can carry the food,” Steve pulled a chair for you. “Sit comfortably. You cooked for us. I’ll take care of the food.”

“I can do it too,” you said, but Steve was halfway toward the kitchen to grab the plates. “Steve, I can do it…”

“No, doll. You worked all day at the bakery, helped me with the meeting, and cooked. You need a rest and enjoy the food,” he sternly said, but a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Listen to your Captain and eat your food, ma’am.”

He placed a plate in front of you and pecked your cheek. “Thank you for inviting me. I’m honored that you allowed me to come to your home.”

You giggled at his words. Steve was such a gentleman, and so sweet. No other man was ever so sweet to you, or attentive. “Anytime, Steve. It’s a pleasure having you.”

For a moment, there was awaked silence before you both burst into laughter. “Sorry, I’m awful when it comes to dates,” Steve admitted.

“Oh my god, same,” you jumped up to hug Steve tightly. “I thought it was only me. I'm glad it’s you. I mean…I feel comfortable around you. Not like with other men. Not that other men are bad, but you are you…”

Steve didn’t mind that you nervously babbled. He was glad you felt about him the way you did. After everything he lost, especially so many friends, Steve needed a glimmer of hope.

And who was he to refuse a little happiness when it came with a warm smile and a soft voice?

“That’s kinda nice.” You broke the silence stretching out in the room. “I mean, this place. Uh-Steve said it’s okay to bring food.”

“Nat, that’s Y/N. I told you about her.” Steve watched his friend lift a brow. She looked you up and down before her eyes drifted toward the baked goods you placed on the table.

“I already like her,” she smirked. “Steve told us so much about you. He wouldn’t stop talking about you, your bakery, and how sweet you are.”

“Nat,” Steve’s cheeks turned red at Nat’s words. He didn’t want you to know he can’t stop talking about you, and how you helped him cope with what happened after the snap. “I think Y/N doesn’t want to hear about it.”

“No, no. I’d like to hear more,” you teased. You patted Steve’s back and tried to calm him when he inhaled sharply. “I was just kidding. I bet you didn’t talk so much about me.”

“All the time he was talking about you,” Nat enjoyed the struggle on Steve’s face. It’s been a while since she felt a little hope. But seeing you with Steve gave her hope. If he could find love in these desperate times, everything is possible.

Everything is still possible…

“What do you think about my friends?” Steve asked as he walked you home. “They were friendly to you, right? You felt safe and welcome…”

“They are very nice. I like Nat,” you smiled when Steve took your hand and interlaced his fingers with yours. “Of course, they are nice. All of them are your friends.”

You walked back to your home in silence, simply enjoying each other’s company.

Steve didn’t have the heart about the things he and his friends discussed some days ago. If they can do what Bruce and Scott were talking about, the world will change once again.

At that very moment, all Steve wanted was to hold your hand and bring you home safely. Everything else was unimportant...

Part 3

[pandafishao3]

Throwback Rec List

I love that I get new readers with every new fic I write, but I also put together a list of my own little favourites from my AO3 that has started to disappear a little in the mass of fics! Sometimes I get asked to write about a specific theme and I actually already have a fic or two on that theme, so I thought it could be nice to bring a few older ones back :) Hope you can find something you like!

Show me how you burlesque

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Bucky is war veteran with a new prosthetic arm and bad sexual frustration who's trying to learn how to let people close. Steve is a burlesque dancer in an all-male club, and he wants to get to know Bucky better.

You can read it here.

Author's note: I love the movie "Burlesque" and I reeeally wanted to make something of that, I'm very happy with the aestethic of this fic!

****

I think we're the same

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator choose not to use archive warnings

Bucky is a teenage mutant with a steel arm and the ability to control metal. Having just moved to Brooklyn to a new high school, he's moody and angry and convinced he's the only freak hiding in plain sight. Until a scrawny kid called Steve suddenly interrupts his lunch. The biggest problem isn't the question on whether Steve is a mutant or not - the problem is that Bucky has absolutely no idea what to do about the fact that he is inexplicably hot.

You can read it here.

Authors note: Honestly I just wanted to write some shameless tentacle sex and it turned out to be the best smut scene I ever written, probably.

****

I could love you with my eyes closed (kiss you with a blindfold)

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence

Nothing really matters to Bucky, after he comes back from his last tour in a pointless war. When another veteran, Billy Russo, offers him a work that turns out not to be as legal as one might think, Bucky doesn’t care. There’s only one single thing that he does care about these days – and that is the fact that ever since he saw Steve Rogers across a crowded room, everything changed. And Steve might not know who he is, but Bucky still stalks him with the passion of a man in love and he knows that one day, that tiny little blond will be his.

OR: Bucky is a stalker and Steve just wants to be loved right

You can read it here.

Author's note: Gosh but I just love a stalker theme. Also, for this I weaved together the universe of Captain America, Daredevil, the Punisher AND The Iceman, which is one of my all time favourite Chris Evans movies.

****

Day 3 of Kinktober: Puppy Play

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Rating: Explicit Warnings: No warchive warnings apply

Steve has a problem with masturbation, and Bucky helps him by letting him be a sweet, obedient puppy for him. Now he’s coming home from work and is met by an excited puppy wanting to play. First, Bucky needs to check him over and make sure he behaved.

You can read it here.

Author's note: Oh this is truly one of my faves, I wanted to do this for such a long time. 24/7 puppy play is just yum.

****

Day 15 of Kinktober: Monster Fucking

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator choose not to use archive warnings

“You had a question for me” Bucky said to the strange creature in the water. The tentacle wriggled and then pulled back a little. Bucky found himself missing it. “I do” the cecaelia before him said calmly. Yet then his brow furrowed just the slightest and he tilted his head, as if he was measuring Bucky out. The water rippled softly about him in the misty night as he moved half a feet backwards, floating effortlessly. “My siren sisters told me of one sailor that did not seem to listen to their song. One who did not move closer, but rather kept away. It is not often my sisters come across a man they cannot spellbound. And my question is, if that young sailor might have been you?” he asked.

Or; Bucky is a pirate whose ship is attacked by mermaids, but he makes it out alive. That night, a cecaelia calling himself 'Steve' visits him, wanting to get to know him better.

Shameless tentacle sex.

You can read it here.

Author's note: Also something I had wanted to do for such a long time, I just love cecaelias! I def wanna write more of this in the future. Also, Pirate!Bucky? So hot

****

Marking his omega

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-con

Bucky has been made an omega by Hydra. Steve becomes his alpha when he gets him back and does his best to reassure him. But bucky needs something more to be assured he belongs to Steve - he needs to be properly scent marked.

You can read it here.

Author's note: One of my oldest fics on here, this is PURE piss filth but actually, I still have a special place in my heart for this one.

****

(P.S - the header was taken from this pinterest)

[buckyismybicycle]

I don't know how terrible this quality will be on Tumblr, but the higher resolution/original can be found on AO3!

Title: swim for the music that saves you Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers Tags: ShrinkyClinks, Social Media AU, WIP/teaser Summary: It all started when he sent a video singing Happy Birthday to his sister, not knowing that she would post it on her social media.

Now, JBuckyBarnes has millions of followers all hearing his story, following his recovery, listening to him sing. Little does he know, he's going to change the life of one follower in particular.

Steve Rogers, chronically ill and spending most of his days inside, has to live vicariously through others. He longs for adventure, trying new things, feeling the sun on his face. A/N: This fic has been sitting in my drafts for some time now... Thanks to @buckybarnesevents: Alternate June-iverse giving me a little kick, I've decided to post an excerpt/the beginning and the rest of it will come in due course.

“Hiya folks… Well, it was, uh.” The brunette on screen pauses and then smiles sadly. “Alright, you know I can’t lie to you. I wanna say it was fine and dandy, but it was honestly rough. That’s why this video’s a bit late, sorry ‘bout that, by the way. It took longer than I thought it would to edit so I honestly kind of gave up.”

He lays his head in a propped up hand, resting against his piano. 

“So, I got home Sunday afternoon and crashed. I don’t even remember getting into bed. Didn’t sleep through the night, of course. I never do. But! That’s just me, my body’s not a fan of the meds. I was feeling crummy — you know when you’re so hungry you’re nauseous but you can’t eat ‘cause you’re nauseous? Anyway, so that for like, six hours. Finally got to sleep when the sun was risin’ but only managed about an hour or so. You lot haven’t heard Brooklyn traffic.”

Steve can’t help but smirk at that because he has, and he is in fact listening to the god-awful Brooklyn traffic outside his window. He could always move his desk away from the window, but he needs some sort of sunlight from time to time.

The YouTube video plays on his phone while he takes a break from work, stretching and wincing as his joints crack.

“So, it’s like, ten in the mornin’ and I decide I’m gonna get something to eat. Nausea won that round, unfortunately, so by three o'clock I am starving. I was cranky for the whole day, and I don’t wanna make cranky videos for you guys. So, that’s enough rambling from me. My brain’s been a little all over the place so I haven’t written anything in ages, but how about a cover of the best of the best? Thanks for sticking around! Hope you like this one.”

Steve watches as Bucky lifts the cover of his piano and stretches the fingers on his prosthetic. Today, it’s the metal titanium one, with its beautiful plate work and a small Hydra Industries logo on the forearm. 

You gotta swim… Swim for your life

Swim for the music that saves you

When you're not so sure you'll survive

You gotta swim… Swim when it hurts

The whole world is watching

You haven't come this far to fall off the earth

The currents will pull you, away from your love

Just keep your head above

I found a tidal wave begging to tear down the dawn

Memories like bullets, they fired at me from a gun

Cracking the armor, yeah

I swim for brighter days, despite of the absence of sun

Choking on salt water, I'm not giving in, I swim

You gotta swim… through nights that won't end

Swim for your families, your lovers, your sisters, and brothers and friends

Steve listens to the beautiful voice fill the empty space of his studio apartment, caught up in the soft yet powerful melody. What really hits him are the words, though. 

Bucky’s life is no secret — except maybe his real first name because there’s no parent on this planet that hates their kid that much. Steve doesn’t know exactly how Bucky had started off, but the channel was a newer discovery for Steve. 

Well, there it is. As always, thanks so much for tuning in! Hope you liked the song, and maybe I’ll see you guys next time with something original, huh? Bye!” 

[esoterium]

@particlexxdealer || blizzard prompts || accepting!

[ SHELTER ]: sender hastily guides the receiver to a nearby shelter for them to wait out the storm together safely. (steve)

gray skies only became darker, the clouds thicker and puffier the closer the storm got. steve could feel the crisp cold in the air. reminded him of the weather back home in brooklyn. right when the worst of the winter would come crawling through the city and seep through brick and mortar to chill even the fireplace with it's barely there flames flickering and fighting to do their best to ward off the coldest nights. they'd keep it going. no matter the cost. him and buck and his mom. never once letting her feel the depth of the winter's bite. even if the windows rattled against blankets pinned in front of them. they kept warm.

if only because the three of them knew what it might mean of steve would catch a fever. or a cold. or...worse. there could always be worse with him then.

he was standing outside scott's cabin. head back as the snow began to fall steadily. thick, chunky flakes that settled in blond hair and in his blue scarf. against his cable knit sweater. his coat forgotten inside. they had plenty of wood. plenty of food. unlike all those years ago? they'd weather this fine. if for no other reason than they were prepared and had the means to be. unlike those years ago.

his mind's trailing off. his heart going with it. back to that time. back to his mother's face and how small she was. how they were practically the same size and how he'd see her now. he can damn near picture her in the twisting flurry of flakes that begin to pour. unaware of just how much has settled on him until scott's hand's on his shoulder drawing him out of where his thoughts've trailed off to. a brow lifts as he's ushered inside.

"yeah. sorry. got to thinking. bad habit.. you comfortable?" the snow's still sticking til he starts to swat it out of his hair with a brush of his hand at the top of his head. "need anything...?"

[baconsoapp]

Transfem Captain America headcanon

listen youre gonna have to hear me out on this

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

I often think of the scene in CATWS, when Sam and Steve are talking and Sam says "You can do whatever you want to do. What makes you happy?" I think about how a common theme in cap's story is identity, self determination, and finding your true self in spite of adversity and trauma. These are experiences felt by everyone, but to me they have significantly more weight in a trans light.

Let's rewind. Steve Rogers is a scrawny kid from Brooklyn who somehow always finds himself in the middle of a fight. Bullies always seem to scope him out. Maybe it's because he's firm in his convictions... maybe it's something else as well? It wouldn't be out of the ordinary to pick on the small loud-mouth queer kid in that time.

Then he gets the serum. And while everyone is giving his respect probably for the first time in his life, it's an act. Just another costume to wear and perform, just another day he has to continue to keep up appearances.

He wants to be a good soldier, to be a part of something larger than himself, to help people in need. But he also wants to truly know himself, and that becomes clear when he wakes up from the ice 70 years later.

In a world that's moved on and changed around him, he throws himself into work, that brings him purpose. But that leads him to ask "Who am I outside of the uniform?" Outside of the convincing costume.

Where does being trans fall into this? Admittedly that's just a little artistic liberty and interpretation on my part, but I really do find the concept of Captain America being a trans woman to be so intriguing. Think about it-- the embodiment of liberty, freedom, and justice, wrapped into one single person, making that person trans would make the sentiment that much more powerful. Hell, transitioning is probably one of the most self-liberating things you can do (as we can see in the first movie :p)

Speaking as a trans person, transitioning has been empowering for me, being able to live my life as my true self, being able to change my appearance to better fit how I see myself. And I live in an area where I am able to do that tentatively but that's another discussion. That's incredibly freeing.

I'm probably gonna make another post going into more specifics about her, but this idea has been brewing in my mind for quite some time now.

[atlantablack]

You know, i've been reading a lot of steve/tony fic the past month and i love them both a lot but i've been seething mad all day just thinking about how so much of this fandom treats him and purposely mistreats his character and Steve Rogers is this skinny kid from Brooklyn who signed up for a war over and over again despite knowing it would kill him because he didn't like knowing that other men were out there dying and when Erskine asked if he wanted to kill Nazis he said no and he spent years fighting in alleyways and causing trouble and getting beat up and probably would have ended up dead if Bucky hadn't been there to pull him out of shit because he doesn't like bullies and he refuses to back down and "Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man." and grenade get back get back and azzano and i have to put her in the water and "Yeah, we compromised. Sometimes in ways that made us not sleep so well. But we did it so the people could be free. This isn't freedom, this is fear." and "the price of freedom is high. It always has been. And it's a price I'm willing to pay. And if I'm the only one, then so be it. But I'm willing to bet I'm not." and "we're not at war, captain" "they are" and he gets up and he gets up and he gets up over and over and over and he's seventy years out of time and everything keeps changing and every time he gets comfortable something destroys that comfort and he's always losing people, losing friends, losing soldiers, and there's never a clean break with Peggy because he misses their dance and then has to lose her in a separate more permanent way as well, and he loses bucky and finds him and loses him over and over and wants to trust people and keeps getting betrayed and he's trying to be a good man but it gets so complicated but he's still trying even when it would be so much easier to just not try at all and he hurts people because he's human and unfortunately being a superhuman with superhero friends means the capacity for hurt is wider and deeper than anything you or i could dream of but he keeps going and keeps fighting and loses the biggest fight of his life and lives with that every day for years when there are reminders of the biggest failure ever around every corner and then he just keeps going. He's twenty seven when he's unfrozen in 2014, younger than i am now, and the reasonable thing for him to do would have been to get out. leave the fighting and the aliens and the bullshit to someone else. But he's a good man and to him, sometimes, that means being a good soldier and sometimes good men hurt people but that doesn't mean they aren't still good men, it only means they're human and i think people could stand to sit the fuck down and think about what it would feel like to wake up in a year where every single person you knew is dead or close enough to it that they might as well be. there's no option to go make up with a family member he doesn't like, there's no old friends to become new again, everyone he knew is dead and he is still reeling from the fresh grief of losing bucky and somehow, instead of having a perfectly understandable breakdown, he picks himself up and keeps going.

and while i'm here, Tony Stark wouldn't thank anyone bashing on Steve in his defense. You destroy his character in your defense of him and he wouldn't even thank you for it.

[stellarfics]

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

⋆˙⟡ ⍟ i'm just a kid from brooklyn ⍟ ⟡⋆˙

note: all of these fics at 18+, minors please don't interact. some of these fics may contain triggering themes, please read all warnings! also, i do not allow my fics to be shared on any other platform or website PLEEK!

₊˚⊹♡ key: dark = ✧, fluff = ⭒, smut = ☾

𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | as you've come to age of courtship, your parents line up a list of suitors—you've only want one name on your list, Steve Rogers. an a/b/o dynamic au; ⭒☾ (coming soon!) ♡

𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲, 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 | Steve doesn't like it when other people touch his girl; he reminds you just to whom his doll belongs to. ✧☾ (coming soon!) ♡

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲 | (coming soon!) ♡