#peggy carter imagines

[skylarinfinity]

[telling story to doctor]

m/n: after all that we fucked so hard that when i'm cumming i tore her towel rack of the wall.

m/n: she didn't mad at all, more like impressed by it but the rack hit her leg and leave big bruised next morning... that's why we here.

doctor: [sighed] sir i just ask how this happened, you don't need tell the whole story.

peggy: [blushing] i'm so sorry about him! [pulling m/n out of doctor room]

tags lists @sonicqaulan @graysonfriggason @thebettermaximofftwins @sloanalistair @acienthazard @starlinggoldeneyes @ortegaolsen @wednesdaywanda @sandwichmarvel @gardenofmarvel @wanda-cabin-natasha-jacket @panandinpain0 @badblondebisexualboy

[angelremnants]

American Wedding | S. Rogers

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

pairing : Steve Rogers x f!reader

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

word count : 12.1k

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

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

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

(ao3 version)

The mission was over.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know,” Steve said slowly.

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

“Tony—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

⠀⠀

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

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

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

She was Peggy’s niece.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve glanced back at him. “Just exploring.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He blinked, surprised you knew who he was.

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

He guessed he really did well in choosing his destination. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⠀⠀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That strong for you, Cap?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked at you warily. “Weddings?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your grin widened. “Deal.”

⠀⠀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⠀⠀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⠀⠀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⠀⠀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⠀⠀

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

Today was his last day in Barbados.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⠀⠀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⠀⠀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⠀⠀

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

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

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

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

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

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

dividers ©️ @k1ssyoursister + @cyberbeat + @atinystaypixie .

angelremnants ©️ 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.

[lacy-oh-lacy]

Who fell first and who fell harder?

⤷Marvel Edition

She fell first but you fell harder:

Kate Bishop, Jane Foster, Sharon Carter

You fell first but she fell harder:

Natasha Romanoff, Nebula, Valkyrie, Carol Danvers

You fell first and harder:

Gamora, Peggy Carter, Shuri, Maria Hill

She fell first and harder:

Wanda Maximoff, Mantis

[fandomnerd9602]

Captain Peggy Carter runs out…

Peggy: Target’s on the move! Stark, where are you?

Y/N Stark lands and throws the target to the ground at Peggy’s feet…

Y/N: Carter, I believe this belongs to you. O Captain my Captain

Peggy: my Iron Knight (blushes)

[sytoran]

𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐋𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 ⌇ marvel ladies headcanons

summary. marvel ladies and their favourite kind of kisses to receive from you ♡

includes. yelena / wanda / maria / peggy / natasha / shuri / kate note. a very late valentines special. sfw since tumblr hates me and my mature works. (literally every single one of them have gotten flagged this isn't funny anymore) regardless, i hope you all enjoy these adorably fluffy headcanons

masterlist / AO3

──── ♥ YELENA

forehead kisses. when yelena was younger, she hated getting teased for her height. but somehow, it’s okay when it comes to you. maybe it’s because you can wrap your arms around her so easily and engulf her in your warmth, and your joy, and the life behind everything you do. or maybe it’s just the forehead kisses. you’re always gentle with yelena, loving her not in spite of her flaws but because of them, and maybe that’s why you’re so tender when you hold the sides of her face and press a kiss on her forehead. her shoulders relax, and she sighs softly, tucking her head underneath your chin, and all you can do is capture every moment in a frame of time. it’s moment like these that make yelena fall in love with you even more, when your lips are against her forehead and mumbling words that make her melt into a puddle of romances.

──── ♥ WANDA

angel kisses. it’s a sweet name for an even sweeter kiss. angel kisses are placed on the closed eyelids, and it’s something wanda really fancies, something you do all the time. the world can get so loud and unbearable – but when you wrap wanda up in your arms and place kisses on her closed eyes, she stops trembling and it becomes a little more okay. wanda’s been through so much, and the fact in itself that you’re one of the few who’ve bothered to stand by her side all the way means so much. it means more when her eyes are closed and your lips are right there, always there for her. that sweetness is comparable to an angel, so maybe that’s where it got its name.

──── ♥ MARIA

cheek kisses. for such a skilled agent, it’s surprising how you take maria by surprise every time you kiss her on the cheek. maybe that’s an emblem of how she lets down her walls around you, whether she liked it or not — you love maria, undeniably so, and though it took her far longer, she does love you too. a striking example of this is the small smile she allows to slip beyond the cold demeanour, whenever you so casually walk up to her and distractedly press a fleeting kiss on the side of her face. if it was anyone else, maria would’ve probably had them knocked out in seconds flat, but you’re not them, and your lips on her cheek are far sweeter. it’s the way you do it so absent-mindedly, too, like it’s a part of your daily routine and pepppering kisses on maria’s cheeks are a simple way of life. cute, and soft, and mushy, like those rom-com films maria hates, but she’d watch them all day, if it meant your lips would meet her cheeks once again.

──── ♥ PEGGY

back-of-hand kisses. peggy, who is so headstrong and rarely shows her tender side, unexpectedly loves back-of-hand kisses. it’s just the way you brush your lips against her skin, over the callouses and the blemishes, cherishing her as if she ever deserved that delicacy. "i absolutely adore you, my love," you would mumble, pressing your lips against her knuckles gingerly just before she leaves for work. she would bite back a smile, feeling her insides turn into mush. she thinks she can handle another day disciplining rowdy soldiers if it means she can wake another day by your side.

──── ♥ NATASHA

stomach kisses. scars and bruises and stretch marks are nothing new to natasha, and while she’d never admit she was acutely insecure of them, it does bother her to an extent that she avoids looking at her stomach in the mirror. it’s stupid, honestly, because natasha is a world-class assassin, and she’d rather look dead in the eyes of a bleeding man than her own stomach, but then you came along and flipped her world upside down. the first night you trail kisses along her stomach, lips fluttering over every scar and bruise, natasha almost cries. she's never felt so loved. you don’t say anything, and she’s grateful for your silence, but you press a few extra kisses on the bullet wounds and the beautiful stretch marks. it’s so loving and tender, that you even bother to kiss her stomach that delicately, and natasha thinks she doesn’t deserve you but you’d always tell her otherwise.

──── ♥ SHURI

neck kisses. shuri absolutely loves the sensation of neck kisses. shuri could be up in her lab, so focused on her current project, but all that fades away when you wrap your arms around her from behind, and pull her into a soft kiss on the neck. she sighs softly, then leans back into your grasp, tilting her head up to meet your eyes lovingly. you give her a lopsided, lovesick smile, still not saying anything. you just duck down to press another kiss on the narrow column of her neck, hands encircling her waist as she lets her eyes flutter shut. it's all shuri ever needed, but when your kisses start lingering a little too long and your hands start wandering a little too far, she isn't complaining, either.

──── ♥ KATE

spiderman kisses. the name is quite funny, since the two of you do know peter parker, but then again there's no other way to explain it. kate somehow always ends up on the floor, be it after a night of slumber, or playing with lucky, or watching tv. you find it so endearing, and you can't help when stand over her and peck her lips. your chins brush against each others' noses, and kate lets out a breathy laugh. both of you are smiling into the kiss, and the butterflies in kate's stomach flutter. it's so goofy, but it encaptures your relationship in the most perfect way imaginable ─ there's no need to take it too seriously, because both of you are just going with the flow. whatever happens, both of you will always be there for each other, with spiderman kisses or not.

taglist: @simp4wanda26 @natashamaximoff69 @ohsugar-honey-iced-tea @fayhar @bibliophilicbi @screechcat @rowanyaboats @nahnahnahwhat @the-night-owl-blr @matchasrad @wannabe-fic-reader @natsxwife @wandsmxmff @enanna-h @gay4lizzie @jemilyswhor3 wanna be added to the taglist to see more works like this? leave an ask in my inbox! if by any chance you want to be removed from the taglist, also leave an ask in my inbox.

man i loved writing this, got me in the feels. happy late valentines, everyone.

masterlist / AO3

[chloe-skywalker]

Be Safe - Bucky Barnes

Bucky x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mention of Bucky losing his arm

Word count: 1,138

Summary: 1940’s - What if they found Bucky after the fall? What if HYDRA never took him?

Authors Note: Neat little idea I had and I LOVE it!

Masterlist

Avengers Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“You promise that you’ll both be safe?” Y/n was worried about her boys. Y/n and Peggy were very similar in the way they fought alongside the men. But they weren’t allowed to go on every mission. When they couldn’t be there it made the two women more anxious. Peggy worried about Steve, and Y/n worried for her friend Steve, but mostly for her husband Bucky. Jame Buchanan Barnes. The love of her life.

“We’ll try.” Steve smiled at his lifelong friend.

“We’ll come back, doll.” Bucky stated reassuringly. He smiled at her and kissed her cheek. “Promise.”

“You can’t promise that.” Y/n wished she could just believe him but that's not how war works.

“I’ll come back to you, doll. I promise and I’ll bring this punk back with me.” Bucky rested his forehead to her’s, not a worry in his eyes. He truly believed the words he was telling her.

“We gotta go back.” Steve spoke up standing next to Peggy. Steve smiled at Y/n as the couple pulled apart. “Bye, y/n/n. We’ll be back soon.”

Peggy and Y/n stood next to each other as the two women watched their men leave. Y/n couldn’t help the feeling that something was gonna happen.

^     ^     ^

Y/n tired to keep busy, keep her mind off the fact that Bucky was in danger.

Luckily they came back before nightfall of the next day. Peggy and Y/n smiled as they saw Steve, knowing Bucky wouldn’t be far behind. But when Y/n saw him on a stretcher that's when her heart rate picked up drastically.

“Bucky?” Y/n said out loud in shock at his state before her eyes. “Oh my God.” she covered her mouth at the site of him missing his arm.

“He’s stable, okay? They're gonna help him.” Steve pulled y/n into him, comforting her the best he could. Steve held her tight hoping to calm her, knowing how scared she must be. Bucky was covered in blood and missing his arm.

“What happened Steve?” Y/n asked pulling back some to look up at the blonde. Peggy rested a comforting hand on Y/n’s shoulder. Y/n was trying to keep her emotions in check. Be strong but it was getting increasingly harder.

“He got shot out of a train. I-I couldn't grab him in time and he fell.” Steve stuttered as he explained, telling it just made it feel more real. Scarlier.

“It’s not your fault.” Y/n reached out to hold Steve’s hands tightly, trying to comfort him. Knowing Steve he was taking all the blame for Bucky being hurt.

“It feels like it.” Steve dropped into a nearby chair, putting his head into his hands.

Y/n sat beside him worried for Bucky as well, but also staying strong for Steve.

^    ^    ^

“Y/n?” Bucky said in a rough voice but loud enough for her to hear.

“Right here Bucky.” Y/n spoke up scooting closer to his bed. Bucky had been out of it for a couple days. They had transferred him to a hospital in the city back in brooklyn the morning after they got back to base. Y/n hadn’t left his side since.

“Where’s Steve?” Bucky asked, turning his head to look at his wife.

“He’s right outside.” She told him lifting his hand to her lips.

“He’s blaming himself isn’t he?” Bucky grimaced, feeling more pain the more he woke up.

“Yeah.” Y/n nodded sadly knowing Bucky doesn’t even blame him for what happened. But Steve doesn’t want to believe it.

“What do you remember?” Y/n questioned him, secretly hoping he didn’t remember to much of the traumatic accident.

“I remember being shot at and hanging off the side of the train. Then nothing.” He told her with a shake of his head and watery eyes.

Y/n explained to him what  Steve had to her in the last couple days of what exactly happened. There were lots of tears shed. Y/n had Steve come in when Bucky was ready. The two talked and Bucky tried to assure Steve there was nothing he could have done.

Bucky had to say in the hospital for a couple weeks but once he left Bucky and Y/n had gotten a call from Howard to come to his lab. So the couple headed to Stark’s  lab to find out that Howard had been hard at work making a bunch of different prosthetic arms for Bucky that were incredibly advanced. He wanted Bucky to be able to have finger control, and to possibly have feeling from the arm, so he could feel hot and cold and touch almost as if it had nerves.

“How’s it feel?” Howard asks, biting his thumb anxiously.

“Good. I can feel heat, cold, touch, just like you said.” Bucky nodded honestly, he was really impressed and immensely grateful. Grateful for everyone's support, and all their hard work to help him.

“Great! That was the goal.” Howard clapped with a huge smile. He felt relieved it had taken a lot of tries and hours to work it all out. But he wanted to give Bucky so normalcy back.

Howard walked away to give Bucky a moment.

Y/n walked closer to Bucky. “You okay?”

Y/n noticed Bucky’s demeanor had dropped once Howard walked away.

“Hmmmhmm.” He hummed not looking at her but at the metal arm now attached to him.

“Bucky I don’t want to push but you have to talk to me.” Y/n pleaded talking lowly so no one would hear her.

“Its not the same.” Bucky mumbled, sadness evident in his voice. He honestly didn’t expect it to be like his real arm, but still it was odd to feel things but feel them in a new way.

“It’ll never be the same. But at least it’s something and Howard is doing everything possible for it to be as much like your real arm as it possibly can be.” Y/n felt bad for him but knew he didn’t need pity. He needed support and someone to tell him the truth in a kind way.

“I know.” Bucky nodded knowing she was right. The arm was made out of the same metal as Steve’s shield, and it had a lot of features that wouldn’t be around for many many decades.

“I still love you. Arm or not my love for you will never change.” Y/n smiled, leaning up to kiss his lips lovingly, hoping to ease some of his insecurities that he is not used to having.

“I love you too. Thank you for sticking with me.” Bucky smiled at her, grateful to have her with him. Staying by his side through everything.

“Always.” Y/n promised. Nothing would separate them. Nothing.

Taglist:

@gruffle1 @padawancat97 @starkleila

[captainsophiestark]

The Arena Club

Peggy Carter x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Requested by @trekkingaroundasgard! Hope you like it Nicola! 💗

Fandom: Marvel

Day Seven Prompt: "Follow me if you want to live!"

Summary: The life of a reporter can get a little dangerous, especially when going after powerful, deeply corrupt men like those in the Arena Club. Thankfully, Peggy Carter's around to help in a pinch.

Word Count: 1,943

Category: Fluff, Action?

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

The evidence presented in this article is just the beginning. Tireless detective work has uncovered much, much more, which we hope to verify and expose to the public as soon as-

I broke off typing abruptly, my attention snapping up from the typewriter in front of me. A thud had just come from somewhere else in the office, and I knew for a fact I was the only one here.

I'd decided to stay late to make sure this story got finished in time to go out tomorrow morning, and I'd been words away from finishing it up. I'd been investigating a conspiracy with deep roots in LA for a long time now, and I finally had the evidence put together to expose them, once and for all. Unfortunately, having a bunch of knowledge about a shady secret society had made me jumpy as hell for the past week at least.

I waited, listening for anything else out of the ordinary. When I didn't hear anything after a few long moments, I took a deep breath and returned my attention to my typewriter.

Almost at the exact same time, the door to the room came flying open. I snapped my head up and shot out of my seat, reeling backwards as three armed men flooded the office. My heart almost stopped in my chest when I felt someone take my hand from behind, and I whirled around to see a beautiful brunette woman staring at me.

"Come with me if you want to live!" she said, pulling me away from my typewriter and the armed men all at once. My brain froze, but it was clearly unsafe to stay here, so I followed her. Even through the shock, I knew she was a better option than the guys with guns.

I followed the woman through the back hallways of my office building, the sounds of crashing and gunshots echoing behind us. My heart raced, but she seemed calm as could be as we ducked around one corner and through another door.

We wound our way through the building and gradually down the stairs, the woman me never once pausing to check directions or look back at me. Finally, we made it out a door on the first floor into the back alley and she dropped my hand. I was surprised to find that I was a little disappointed.

"Get in!" she called, pulling open the driver's side door of the car. I hesitated. She'd definitely helped me out of a tight spot upstairs, but getting into a car with a stranger was a whole different situation.

Apparently, she noticed my hesitation. She stopped halfway through climbing into the car and came back to me.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I?" She reached into her jacket and pulled out a badge, which she held up for me to read. "Agent Peggy Carter. I'm with the SSR. We've been chasing the same group you've been investigating for quite some time now. We can protect you from them and their men in the building, but we have to go right now."

I just blinked at her for a moment, until a shout from somewhere inside the building finally snapped me out of it.

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I'm coming. Thank you."

She nodded and gave me a smile, then started the car as I climbed in the passenger seat. We pulled away just as the men from before came busting into the alley behind us.

We turned a corner onto the main street before they managed to take a shot at us. I slumped back into my seat with a sigh.

"You alright?"

I turned more fully to face Agent Peggy Carter behind the driver seat. She kept her eyes on the road, speeding through the LA traffic as fast as she could. I sighed.

"I... I don't know. Nothing that's happened in the past ten minutes has felt real. Those guys were really going to kill me, weren't they?"

This time, Peggy spared a second to glance in my direction. She looked sympathetic, which was all the confirmation I needed.

"They were, yes. They're the enforcers for the group your story's about. The Arena Club. We've been dealing with their members for quite a while now."

"Is that why you were there tonight? You knew they were coming after me?"

Peggy hesitated. "Not... exactly. I was more there to scope out the situation, see whether you'd uncovered anything we hadn't yet. I saw the enforcers on my way up to your office, and realized I might need to take a more active involvement."

I huffed a laugh that was mostly an adrenaline release.

"Well. I guess that was lucky."

Peggy shot me a grin. "Yes. I suppose it was."

I shook my head, a small smile spreading to my own face despite myself. Probably the shock just hadn't worn off yet. But something about Peggy's energy was just contagious.

She continued to weave through traffic for a while, apparently working to put distance between us and anyone who might be following us. At last, we pulled up outside a building and Peggy put the car in park. I glanced out my window, then frowned when I saw the window decal for a talent agency.

"Don't worry," she said, opening her door. "It's a front for the SSR. You'll be safe here."

I nodded, following her out of the car and into the darkened building. After our mad-dash through my office, I was a little jumpy, but Peggy quickly led me to the back rooms and through a literal secret doorway into the heart of the SSR.

I trailed behind her, head on a swivel as we walked into a well-lit office building. A few people milled around despite the late hour. Apparently the work never really stopped here.

I followed Peggy into a bigger room filled with desks. Only one other person was there, and he looked up the moment we entered. His brow furrowed as soon as he saw me.

"Peggy? What happened?" he asked. She came to a stop just in front of him, and I followed her lead. "I thought you were just going to scout the place out."

Peggy sighed and put her hands on her hips as she answered.

"That was the plan, but they attacked at almost the same time I arrived. So, now we're here."

The guy sighed, looking absolutely exhausted. He closed his eyes for a moment, then took a deep breath and nodded as he opened them again.

"Okay. I'll get some guys on the scene to collect evidence."

"I'll take care of our guest."

They nodded to each other, then Peggy turned to me with a smile.

"Right this way."

I followed her, still feeling a little out of it. Armed men had burst into my office less than twenty minutes ago, but my brain just wouldn't let me process it. Every time I tried, it shut me down.

Peggy seemed to notice something in my expression when she led me into a smaller room with a couch and a table. She gave me a soft smile as she motioned for me to take a seat on the couch.

"You look like you could use some tea," she said. I shook my head as I sank down on the edge of the couch. I looked around, the nerves coursing through my body despite my brain still not having totally processed the reasons for them.

"I think I'm okay, thanks."

"Please," she said, pausing to look me in the eyes. It stilled me for a moment, grounding me and giving me room to take a breath. "I promise, a warm cup of tea will help. It's a big one for us Brits. We swear by it."

I huffed, the ghost of a smile finding its way onto my face.

"Well... okay then."

She gave me another reassuring smile, then started making a cup at the kitchenette taking up the opposite wall. We must've commandeered the break room.

"So... what happens now?" I asked. "I mean, my story was supposed to break tomorrow morning-"

"We're most likely going to have to delay it slightly, but you should still be able to put it out at some point soon," she said, returning to me with two cups of tea in hand. She held out mine, and I sipped at it. She was right; it helped.

Peggy sat down opposite me on the couch with her own cup of tea, giving me a soft smile. I barely knew her, but somehow, she managed to put me more at ease.

"We have almost everything we need to put the Arena Club and their lackeys away for good," she continued. "But we have a few holes in our evidence. I was hoping you might be able to help us fill those holes."

I nodded slowly, mostly in thought. I wasn't sure what I might've found that the SSR hadn't, but if those men had come after me, maybe I was a better investigator than I realized.

"Listen." Peggy set down her tea on the coffee table, turning on the couch to face me more fully. "I know this has been... quite an evening for you. And whether or not you agree to help us, we'll make sure you're safe. But you've clearly put as much work as we have into exposing this conspiracy and trying to take down men with power who think they're untouchable. If you're up for it... I'd be happy to help you continue that work."

I took a shaky breath, then set my tea down on the table, too. Then, I straightened and met Peggy's eyes again, my spine straight despite the lingering shaking in my hands.

"I'm in. I want to help. I've spent a long time trying to take these people down by exposing them to the public, but if I can help you get them off the streets and out of power, too? Even better."

Peggy grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that."

My heart raced as she leaned forward, but then she stood.

"I'm going to go get our case files. We can go through them together tonight, and you can tell us about anything you've found that we haven't. Then, in the morning, you and I can go and gather your evidence and bring it here. Assuming, that is, that you have backups? I doubt anything incriminating in your office is still there."

Now it was my turn for a grin. "Of course I have backups. This isn't my first time exposing some government corruption."

"Perfect. Then I'll be rigth back."

She moved past me towards the door, and maybe it was the lingering adrenaline from the day, but I reached out and took her hand to stop her before I could overthink it. She stopped and turned back to me with a raised eyebrow, but didn't pull her hand away.

"I just wanted to say... thank you. For saving me. And for letting me be involved in the investigation, and everything. I appreciate it. And... I'm looking forward to working with you."

Peggy smiled, and my heart skipped a beat.

"Happy to have you aboard."

We shared a look, then Peggy squeezed my hand and gently let it go. She carried on out of the office, and I watched her go with a smile. I picked up my mug of tea again and settled back against the couch.

Tonight had been absolutely wild, and I knew for sure I hadn't totally processed it yet. And clearly, things were only going to get crazier, since I apparently needed SSR protection for the forseeable future. But still. I couldn't help being a little excited about getting to work closely with Agent Peggy Carter.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[messedupfan]

Chapter 14

Summary: It's the new year! There's a new development in Reader and Wanda's friendship. Jean and Anna have a very important question for reader. And Rachel witnesses something special.

A/n: Hellllloooooo!! I hope y'all are having a good day. Anyone watch Love is Blind? Every season upsets me more than the last. Anyway, comment, like, reblog, and enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time you stopped staying with Wanda, the pillow wall ceased to exist. The pair of you were comfortable enough to share the space together on the bed and not overthink it. At least that's what you told each other to be able to hold one another at night. On the Sunday that Vision was meant to come for the boys, he called Wanda early in the morning. You were confused and exhausted when you accidentally picked up the phone. Your eyes went wide when you realized that you answered the wrong phone. You quickly put it on mute and woke Wanda up. She had to put on a fake voice to try and match yours. It was a hilarious attempt and she had to hit you to get you to laugh quietly. You just climbed out of bed to use the restroom. 

When you came back, Wanda had her face in her hands. You rejoined her on the bed and she leaned against you once you were settled in. “Vision extended his trip. He said he'll pick them up next Sunday. Which, I'm okay with having them longer. Of course. I love them and I mean, they love you and Rachel so I'm sure that a part of them will be okay with it. But,” she shut her eyes and shook her head as you put your arm around her. “They're going to be so disappointed. I don't even know what I can say? What do you say to a kid when their dad would rather spend the holidays with his new family?” 

You frowned as you rubbed her arm. Even though you knew the question was rhetorical, you felt inclined to answer because you've been that kid before. “My mom wouldn't tell me. She wouldn't even make an excuse on his behalf. She would just distract me with so much fun that I wouldn't even know how long it was until I finally did see my dad.” 

“Do you think that will work?” She rubbed her finger under her nose. You laughed lightly as you shook your head. 

“No, definitely not. Those kids are too smart for that. But, I think I do know something that might work,” you began to remind her of the night before when the boys were bummed by the idea that they had to go with their father because they wanted to stay and have fun with Rachel. “Just say that you asked Vision to let you have the boys a little bit longer and he agreed to let them stay until school starts again.” 

And she took your advice, while you were in the shower, she went to the boys room and told them exactly what you suggested. They were so happy and they hugged her so tight she almost felt guilty lying to them. One of the hardest lessons she learned about being a parent was accepting that she did in fact have to lie to her children on occasion. She already had to tell them that she asked to have Christmas with them and they accepted that because Rachel was still in the hospital at the time and they knew their dad wouldn't take them to visit her. They were confused when they spent time with their dad's side of the family and he wasn't there but they had so much fun with their uncle Tony that it didn't matter. He chased them around and wrestled with them when Vision would have yelled at them for running and he would have punished them for playing around so much. 

The twins loved their dad but they didn't miss him. 

Wanda hosted a New Year’s Eve party that included her mom, the Starks, her brother and his family, plus her friends. You got to invite your friends, Steve and his partner Peggy, the new guy on the job site Thor, and Darcy. A girl you met on a dating app one time and the two of you decided to be friends after. It was rare for her to be in town because she is a political science major who is interning for doctor Jane Foster while she worked on getting her own doctorate. The internship had her traveling a lot. She brought Jane with her because she claimed that the woman was a shut-in. But with the way she almost instantly gravitated to Thor, you couldn't tell. 

You also invited Bucky, another work friend, and he brought a girl he'd started seeing a couple of months prior. A woman named Natasha. When she entered the house she appeared to be on edge. So did Wanda at first, you figured you'd have to ask her about it when you got the chance. After a bit, they both relaxed. 

Of course, Anna and Jean were in attendance as well. They kept wanting to tease you about co-hosting but with so many of your co-workers and your boss being there, they let it slide. You acted as a guest and the kids knew not to mention the living arrangement. 

“So, who are you kissing at midnight?” Darcy asks as she joins you outside on the patio. You needed a break from the party and it was a nice night despite the low temperature. “Me or the hostess?” She smirks then takes a sip from her blue disposable cup. 

You shake your head as you drink from your cup. “I’m not kissing anyone at midnight.” The kids were all in the boys room and you’d hate for them to run down the stairs and confuse them because you and Wanda kissed. They were already confused because one of the nights, Billy came running in from having a nightmare and caught you in the bed. Up until then, you and Wanda were telling them that you were sleeping on the couch. You got away with telling Billy that you also had a nightmare and he seemed to have bought the excuse as he climbed in and created space between you and Wanda so that he could snuggle with his mom. 

“Oh come on, that’s no fun,” Darcy nudges you. “Tell you what, I’ll kiss Agatha so you’ll have to kiss Wanda.” 

You narrow your eyes, “You just want to kiss Agatha.” 

She made a face as she laughed, “No, I just want you to kiss Wanda.”

“How much money is involved,” you ask, knowing the people that are inside. Darcy tries to deny that there’s a bet circulating around the party and eventually gives up. You look inside of the house through the windows on the doors and watch Wanda laugh as something her sister-in-law says. Things weren’t complicated with her but you were constantly afraid that they would become complicated. “I’m not kissing her so that you and whoever else is involved can win a bet.”

“Pietro was the one who started it so,” she takes another drink, “do you really want your boss to lose.” The look she gives you confirms your unspoken question of which side of the bet Pietro was on. You couldn’t believe that he bet that you would kiss his sister at midnight. You shake your head again and finish what’s left in your cup. 

“I need another drink,” you say as you get up from your seat and walk inside. Instead of refilling your cup, you toss it into the trash. Your eyes keep finding Wanda in the small crowd as you move about the gathering talking with the different people there. You liked getting to know Tony Stark but her laugh kept grabbing your attention. One of the times she catches your gaze and mouths a hello with a cute smile. You smile back and mouth, “Hey.” 

As it got closer to the countdown to midnight, you walked upstairs to check on the kids. All of them had made themselves comfortable either on a bed or on the floor. Luna and Rachel have taken the beds, the twins and Agatha’s son are on the floor. The tv was left playing a movie and you carefully turn it off since all of them are asleep. You put blankets over the three boys and tuck the girls into the beds a bit more. You don’t realize that Wanda is watching you until you look up to leave the room. You smile as you stand in the room of sleeping children and strategically step around them to avoid waking them up. 

You leave the door open a crack once you step out into the hallway, “I can move the girls out of the room in a little bit.” You whisper as you step closer to her. “I’m buzzed right now and would hate to drop any of them,” the truth is, you’d hate to wake any of them right now. 

Wanda looks at you with admiration as she continues to smile, “It’s okay. I think they’ll be fine for the night. I um, I actually wanted to warn you about something.” 

“There’s a bet on whether or not we’ll kiss tonight?” Wanda nods to confirm that’s what she was going to talk to you about. “What do you think about it?” 

She shrugs, “I think if we do, it wouldn’t be a big deal. It’s not like we haven’t before.” You nod. 

“But?” You anticipate. 

“But, I don’t want my brother to win,” she says mischievously. “Have you heard what side he’s on?” She asks and this might be the only time in your life that you don’t regret lying when you shake your head. The two of you walk down the stairs as you hear everyone counting down. 

“How are the kiddos?” Pietro asks as the countdown continues. 

“They’re all knocked out,” you inform him. He nods and is pulled in closer by his wife as they get to ten. You look around to find Jane and Thor gazing at one another, nine. Tony and his fiance, Pepper are holding each other close, eight. Agatha and Darcy each have an arm around each other's necks as they both face the television, seven. Mrs. Maximoff is sitting on the sofa with a big grin as she counts down, six. Howard is next to her with his head tilted back as he snores loudly and his wife Maria is next to him counting with a martini glass in her hand, five. Carol is kissing Val each second that is announced, four. Natasha is sitting on Bucky’s lap while he sits on the recliner with her arm around his neck and his around her waist, three.  Jean and Anna pull each other closer as they prepare to end the count down, two. That leaves you standing close to Wanda, one. 

“Happy New Year!” Everyone cheers as the countdown on the television concludes and they each exchange a kiss with their partners. You keep your hands yourself as you give Wanda an innocent chaste kiss on the lips. It’s quick, you’re not sure if anyone caught it. She smiles as she moves closer to her mom and kisses her on the cheek as she wishes her a happy new year. 

“Awe boo!” Darcy says as she digs for cash out of her pockets. The others that bet on you and Wanda sharing a kiss toss their money in the decorative bowl at the center of the coffee table. You wink at Wanda as Pietro shakes his head and puts money in the bowl. Wanda’s eyes widen ever so slightly before she continues to play dumb about the bet. The both of you fake being upset and make it clear that whatever is between the two of you is purely platonic. 

From the top of the stairs, Rachel hobbles back to Tommy and Billy’s room to hide the fact that she saw the whole thing. 

When Sunday comes back around, you get up early to get packed. School starts again on Monday so that meant you and Rachel didn’t need to stay with Wanda anymore. It sucks because you wish that you could have an excuse to be here longer but seeing as none of the kids will be in the house in the upcoming week, there isn’t a reason for you to stay. 

You hug the boys and thank them for being so helpful with Rachel as you say goodbye. They each give you a tight hug before running off to get ready for their dad to pick them up. Wanda called him early to confirm that he will be here for them in the afternoon. He sounded annoyed and convinced her to drop them off at his house since he was recovering from his trip. 

Wanda pulls you into a warm embrace to say goodbye for the time being. You’ve had to resist kissing her the entire week. You wished that you hadn’t done it on New Year’s Eve. She didn’t make it easy either. Too many times the two of you ended up too close to each other. Wanda was getting frustrated that you weren’t getting the signals that she wanted something more from you. 

When the pair of you pull back from this hug, you and Wanda hold eye contact for a moment. Both of you are considering leaning towards each other. That is, until Tommy and Billy start shouting at each other. Wanda sighs and steps out of your arms. “I’ll text you later,” you say as you grab your bag to take to the car. Rachel and her bags are already in your truck. 

You help your daughter out of the truck when you arrive at her mom's house and you only take one of her bags inside since you need to keep the rest at your apartment. Jean and Anna give you weird looks when you're inside and you're curious as to why but you don't question it. “I'll see you guys next Sunday,” you say as you're about to leave. 

“Hold on,” Anna says as she grabs your arm to stop you. “Can you um…” her words seem to fail her. 

“Do you mind staying for tea,” Jean finishes for her. You look between the two of them and notice that something is up with them. You fear that they're about to tell you that their marriage is over so you nod and allow Jean to drag you over to the living room. “So, we wanted to thank you for giving us some extra time to ourselves.” 

“Okay,” you drag out as you eye her carefully. “What's going on?” 

Jean gives you a nervous smile, “Just wait for the tea. Okay?” You nod and sit quietly. There's an awkward tension looming in the atmosphere. You were worried about what they're going to tell you and they are nervous to ask you something very important to them. 

Anna comes in with a tray of three steaming mugs a few minutes later. “You haven't asked them yet, right?” Jean shakes her head as she waits for her wife to get settled. You accept your cup of tea with a close mouth smile and nod. 

“Okay,” Jean starts as she sets her mug down. “Anna and I were wondering if you'd consider making another baby,” you’re about to laugh considering you just went through a break up, “with me?” She concludes. You spit your tea out at the absurd question. “I should have waited for you to swallow,” Jean says as she gets up to grab a dish towel to clean up the mess but Anna pulls her back down. 

“Are you crazy?” You ask as you set the tea back onto the tray. “You tell me that you can barely afford Rachel and you want to add a newborn to your expenses?” You shout in a whisper. You don't want Rachel to get curious and walk in and get excited about having another sibling. 

“Listen, we talked about that. With the budgets the three of us have come up with-” 

“And the GoFundMe!” Anna chimes in. 

“Yes, and the GoFundMe that we set-up for the medical bills, I think we'll be able to get that covered. And it takes nine months to make the baby. Anna and I can get to a better place financially in nine months,” Jean explains. 

“Can you?” You nearly shout out loud. “Look, it's not just nine months of you growing a person. It's doctors appointments, it's prenatal vitamins, it's baby clothes and toys and furniture. We got rid of all that stuff a long time ago. It's not like you have hand-me-downs.” With your pointer finger, you tap the fingers on your other hand as you list the reasons. “Not to mention how expensive IVF can be.” 

Jean and Anna share a look, “We weren't thinking about doing this through IVF. It's safer and more cost efficient to go the more natural route.” Anna is the one to suggest this. 

You stick your neck out and slowly blink as you widen your eyes. You cannot believe what you're hearing. “You really just suggested that I fuck your wife?” 

“You don't have to be so crude about it,” Anna chides. “I plan on being present and it wouldn't be wrong for you to fornicate with my wife. It's purely for reproductive purposes.” You cringe at the medical terms she uses to describe the act she is asking of you. It makes you want to throw up. “I don't understand what is so difficult about it, you've done it with her before.” 

You slowly close your hands into fists, not because you intend to use them but because air was the only thing you could grasp without hurting yourself. “I was in love, we were in love. Rachel was created from love.” 

“And this baby would be too,” Jean argues. “We care deeply about each other, Y/n.” She tries to take one of your hands in hers but you recoil, disgusted by the touch you once found comforting. 

You shake your head, “That's not the same and you know it.” You take a few breaths to calm down before you get too worked up and as your mind clears from the shock, you are able to come up with a reasonable argument. “You two might be ready to have another kid, but I'm not ready. I can't take that on financially or even emotionally right now. Besides, there is so much that happens during their first few developing years that I wouldn't want to miss when passing them back and forth.” They share another look and you already know they've thought about a crazy solution to that. You're starting to think you should just leave. 

“Well, we were thinking that you don't have any parental rights to this one. So that we can have a kid that's ours full time. We really want a baby that we can raise together that's just ours and we chose you to help us with that.” You scowl at this, they're actually asking you to not be present in the life of a child that you're supposed to help bring into this world. You couldn't believe it. “If you think about it, we can't have kids on our own and I really want Rachel to have a sibling that comes from both of us. You've said it yourself, half siblings aren't the sa-” 

“Don’t even. I was a kid when I said that! I would never say that now. I love Kate,” you interrupt. “She is my sister.” 

“Okay, fine, whatever. You still felt that way at one point,” Jean snaps, annoyed by your lack of support. “You can go off and have as many kids as you want with whoever you want. We only have so much time to do this and we used to talk about having another kid.” Jean tries hard to convince you that this is a good idea but it only sounds more and more bizarre. 

“When we were together,” you remind her as if she was an idiot. At this point, you're starting to wonder. “Those plans disappeared the second we signed the divorce papers.” You look between the women that you have tried again and again to support and defend. When Jean introduced Anna to her parents, they weren't accepting of the relationship at all. It took you the better part of a year to get her parents to tolerate the relationship. They still held out hope that you and their daughter would reunite at some point. They knew a few couples that split up only to marry each other again a few years later. Then came the wedding last February, Jean's family didn't want to attend because they didn't want to believe it was happening. You made sure they came. 

Now here they are, asking more out of you. With what return? What do you get out of this other than a few traumatic nights and a child you won't be allowed to raise but know is part of you? Then you think about Rachel and how when she would play with her baby dolls, they weren't ever her children. They were her siblings. You've had many talks with her in the past about why she doesn't have any siblings and she has expressed how she doesn't want to be an only child. You put your face in your hands as you realize that she's already ten and she'll be eleven soon enough. You had thought your eight year age gap between you and Kate was pretty big, and when you thought about having kids you always saw yourself having kids with small age gaps. That was until you had Rachel at seventeen. 

“We're not expecting an answer now,” Jean finally says. “Just please, consider it before you say no.” 

You sigh as you can't believe that you're actually going to think this over. “Okay,” you rise and walk out of the house. You drive to the nearest liquor store, the one you met Wanda at and buy a couple of bottles of the vodka she had suggested. As soon as you got home, you drank until you passed out to forget about the asinine request. 

You overworked yourself all week, being the first one on site and the last one to leave. Someone needs to be focused on paying off those medical bills and not trying to rack up more of them. The work keeps you from thinking about what Jean and Anna asked. You couldn't believe that is a real idea they discussed and thought was okay to run by you. When you got home, you had a bottle of vodka with a side of instant noodles. 

On Friday, your coworkers, Bucky and Thor, ask that you join them on a night out and you accept. You invite Steve as well because Bucky took a liking to him but wasn't sure if he could invite the guy himself. You thought it was funny that he was being weird about it but you didn't catch how flustered he was when you informed him that Steve accepted the invite. Then Thor requested that you invite Darcy and her friend. He tried to play coy but you know that he really liked Jane. He was just the idiot that forgot to call her the next day. He claimed that he waited too long and now he needed your help. You didn't mind extending it, he was a decent guy from what you've gathered. 

A couple of hours later and  you're drunk enough to start spilling your guts. Starting with how much you miss Daisy before getting into the real problem. Jean and Anna's request. Shocking everyone at the booth. The guys all agree that you shouldn't do it but Darcy plays devil's advocate and says that she knows someone that could help at no cost at all because they owed her a favor. “It's not just the sex that's the problem, Darcy,” you try to explain. “I can't just pretend it's not my kid. If I were someone that didn't mind that kind of thing, sure, I'd do it. But I'm not that person, I would want involvement.” 

She puts her hand on your back and rubs soothing circles. It would be comforting if it wasn't her touch. You begin to yearn for Wanda’s touch again. You didn't realize how much you missed it. There is a loud group of people that are being disruptive and it puts you in a bad mood as you start to miss the Hub being your go to. You doubt Phil would let you step into that building ever again. 

“Anyone want more? I'll get the next round,” you stand up even though you barely can and Darcy takes notice as she quickly joins you. Buck and Steve have engrossed themselves in a separate conversation. Jane and Thor were practically eating each other's faces. She gave him the cold shoulder when she arrived but he was able to crash through her walls pretty quickly. 

While you wait at the bar for the drinks, someone falls against Darcy and she complains about her arm hurting. That triggers something protective in you and you grab the person to try and get them to apologize. They spit in your face and you shove them. Your friends are quick to escort you out of the bar before you get into something you'll regret. 

“Give me your phone,” Darcy says as she digs through your pockets. 

“Hey, that's my phone,” you try to grab it but you're really out of it. Bucky and Steve are both holding you up, they didn't realize that you had drank so much. They exchanged worried glances as they held onto you. Thor and Jane were busy trying to calm the person you pushed. 

Wanda’s week was quite uneventful. She worked quietly on the project she was assigned. With the spare time she has in her day, she worked on her passion project. The dream house she one day hoped to build on a land she's trying to buy now. She doesn't want to continue to be limited by this house. The house that's so full of nightmares. There were good memories here, like the boys learning how to crawl and eventually walk, but it wasn't enough to erase the negative energy that has embedded itself within the walls like black mold. 

She was planning on inviting her girls over on Friday but she really only wanted to be hanging out with you. Because of that feeling, she invited someone to sleep with instead. She needed to get you out of her head. You were starting to consume her every thought. Even when she worked on the plans for her dream house. Would Y/n like this much natural light if I add this wall of windows? Wouldn't they like a woodworking space, like my father had? Maybe Rachel needs a room… she dropped her pencil and scrapped the paper. She didn't need to be thinking about that. 

Wanda was kicking the girl, Jessica, that she had over when her phone started ringing. Her heart jumped at the goofy picture of you with the caller ID that you had set, covering her screen. “Hey you,” she greets as she shuts the door. “What's up?” 

“Wanda, keep it in your pants.” Wanda moves the phone from her face as she doesn't recognize the voice. It was still your contact information. “This is Darcy. We met last week,” she says with an urgency. This gets Wanda’s heart to race with worry. 

“What's wrong with Y/n? Why are you calling me from their phone?” She asks as she searches for her keys. Ready to be driving to the hospital. 

“They're fine for the most part. I think.” She goes quiet for a second. “Look, they're really wasted and I was wondering if you could pick them up?” Darcy asks nervously. “No stop! Hey! Y/n, don't do that! Steve, Bucky, get them!” Darcy shouts away from the phone but Wanda can hear everything she says. Wanda shakes her head. So far she hadn't known you to be the drunk type. She'd seen you have a few drinks and get a buzz but she hasn't seen you in such a state that your friends have had to parent you. 

Wanda sighs, “Text me the location. I'll be there as soon as I can.” 

“Okay, thank you,” Darcy sounds distracted. “Damnit, Y/n, why do you have a flask! Stop drinking!” Is the last thing Wanda hears before the call drops. She sits in her car for a few minutes before she receives the text of the location. It was a bar close to her house and she was there in no time at all. She doesn't even have to get out of the car to help you inside because Steve and Bucky shove you into the front seat. 

“Wanda!” You say happily as you realize whose car you've been dumped into. Your eyes are closed but you recognize the scent you had been wrapped up in for two weeks. “Where's Wanda? I want to say hi,” you mutter as you start to get sleepy. 

“Here's their phone,” Darcy says as she stands at Wanda's side of the car. “Don't let them call or text anyone. They're going through something with the ex and you have to make sure that they don't say something they'll regret.” 

Wanda is confused, “What happened between Y/n and Daisy?” 

“Oh no, honey,” Darcy smiles, “Not that ex. This is baby momma drama. You'll have to ask Y/n about that one in the morning. It's not my place to go into the details.” 

Wanda nods in acknowledgement. “Thank you for calling me. Does anyone else need a ride, I'd be happy to -” 

“Nope, we're good. Just focus on Y/n. Maybe try to get some water in them.” Darcy taps the car. “Good luck,” she waves as she rejoins the group on the sidewalk. Wanda drives you back to her house and helps get you inside. She didn't realize how heavy you could be when you're not holding your weight yourself. But she manages. 

“I’m sorry I drank too much, Wanda,” you mutter as you lean against her on the sofa. She was trying to get you to drink some water before she attempted to move you up the stairs. 

“That's okay, just drink this now,” she says as she puts the plastic cup against your lips. You take a sip and nearly spit it out as you show your disgust. 

“Poison,” you exclaim. “Gah, what is that? It's awful,” you say as you lean away from it. 

“It's water,” she leans closer to you. “Drink it!” She demands. 

You make a face and take the cup and chug the whole thing. “I think my body is rejecting it. I need to chase it down with something. Do you have any vodka?” You complain and Wanda shakes her head. 

“What did Jean do to you?” Wanda asks herself and you laugh maniacally when you catch her name. 

“She wants my baby,” you answer. And Wanda is concerned that there is going to be some sort of custody battle. She can't think of why there would be. Unless Jean has a better job opportunity somewhere else. 

“She can't take Rachel from you,” Wanda says as she gets up to refill the cup. 

“Not that baby!” You shout. “My other baby. Er. A new one. She wants a new one and she doesn't want me to have it.” Wanda relaxes a bit, still confused but at least it's not something that will necessarily disrupt Rachel’s life. She walks over and claims the cup of water is vodka. You drink it as if it was the first drink you’d ever had in your life. “That’s the good stuff right there, what’s that brand?” 

She is standing in front of you as she waits for you to finish the beverage. “I’ll tell you in the morning so that you don’t forget.” When you’re don’t she reaches for the cup and instead of handing it over, you grab her by the wrist and pull her to land on top of you. She tries to push herself up but you catch her lips in a sloppy kiss. “What are you doing?” She whispers as she pulls away. 

“Something I should have done a long time ago,” you reply. 

She shakes her head, “You’re drunk.” 

“So?” You ask as you try to kiss her again. This time she is able to slip out of your grasp. 

“So, this isn’t happening,” Wanda doesn’t go into how she’d be taking advantage of you since you’re so wasted and she hasn’t had a drop of alcohol all week. She doesn’t remind you of why you rejected her before or mention that she refuses to be a rebound for you. “Let's get you to bed,” she says as she lifts you up by your arm. You shake your head, disappointed by the rejection but comply. 

You're a little wobbly as you walk up the stairs. Wanda is closely behind you to ensure your safe ascent. You stop in front of her open bedroom door. Uncertain if she wants you to stay with her. But you decide that it's not her decision to make. So you move to the guest room. Wanda doesn't argue as she collects a bottle of painkillers and fills the cup again. She leaves the items on the nightstand beside you. You fell asleep the second your head hit the pillow. You snored softly and Wanda was surprised because you never snored during the time you stayed with her.

“I'll see you in the morning,” she says while she flips the light switch off and shuts the bedroom door. Wanda grabs the pillow that smells like you out of her closet and sets it on her bed before she gets in her pajamas. She crawls into bed and clutches the pillow to her chest as she inhales your scent in order to fall asleep.

Chapter 15

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles

[theconstantsidekick]

My Greatest Creation Is You

Pairings: Tony Stark x Stark!Reader (siblings), Howard Stark x Stark!Reader (best friends)

Genre: A bickering fluffy look back at the good times, with slight angst

Summary:  Tony realizes he never really knew his father. Thankfully he has a box of Howard Starks's stuff and a video message from beyond the grave to help him out.

(These scenes incorporate y/n, codename—Static, into the pre-existing story as a character without making drastic changes to the plot or mythos. All the major plot points from the MCU remain in place with the addition of the reader as Static, who is not only a Stark but also enhanced. Whatever events from the canon aren’t mentioned, take place without much change.)

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Death, Mentions of Past Trauma.

a/n: read Age Of Ultron for more information on Y/n's backstory

sidenote: I just missed Tony a lot, ok?

The Suit And Tony Stark Are One (previous part) | Series Masterlist | The Avengers (Ft. Static) | Age of Ultron (Static Origin Story) | Static Verse Masterlist  | Iron Man 1 (ft. Static) | Bucky Barnes, the Boyfriend

“That thing in your chest is based on unfinished technology,” Fury tells him as they sit next to each other, listening to the sound of bird chip away at what once used to be his center table. They’re at his place, it’s pretty banged up from the party, the windows are all gone, he can hear the waves beneath them, hell, he can even hear the birds chirping. 

“No, it was finished,” Tony argues. “It has never been particularly effective until I miniaturized it and put it in my—”

“No,” Fury interjects. “Howard said the arc reactor was the stepping stone to something greater. He was about to kick off an energy race that was gonna dwarf the arms race. He was on to something big, something so big that it was gonna make the nuclear reactor look like a triple-A battery.”

This is the first he’s hearing of this. 

He begins pouring himself a glass of water. “Just him, or Anton Vanko in on this too?”

“Anton Vanko is the other side of that coin. Anton saw it as a way to get rich,” Fury tells him.

“I told you he got deported, what I didn’t tell you was that Howard was the one who got him deported,” Y/n chimes in from where she stands in front of them, smoking a cigarette while leaning against what used to be a wall. “Once he got back, the Russians found out he couldn’t deliver so they shipped his ass off to Siberia after which he spent the next 20 years in a vodka-fuelled rage.” She exhales letting out the smoke.

“Not quite the environment you want to raise a kid in, the son you had the misfortune of crossing paths with in Monaco,” Fury adds.

Ok, got it, he thinks. Irrelevant now, I’ve got bigger fish to fry.

“You told me I hadn’t tried everything. What do you mean I haven’t tried everything? What haven’t I tried?” Tony asks.

“He said that—” Fury points towards with a glass in hand as he continues, “you were the only person with the means and knowledge to finish what he started.”

Well, fuck.

“He said that?” Tony doesn’t believe a single word of it.

“Are you that guy? Hm?” Fury leans in, resting his elbows on his knees but his eyes or well eye remains locked on Tony. “Are you? ‘Cause if you are, then you can solve the riddle of your heart.”

It takes a second for Fury’s words to settle, but when they do, all Tony can do is shake his head slowly in what would be considered something similar disagreement or even maybe shock? “I don’t know where you get your information, but he wasn’t my biggest fan.”

“What do you remember about your dad? Huh?” There’s a challenge in Fury’s words.

“He was cold, he was calculating. He never told me he loved me. He never even told me he liked me, so it’s a little tough for me to digest when you’re telling me he said the whole future was riding on me and he’s passing it down. I don’t get that.” He really fucking doesn’t. “You’re talking about a guy whose happiest day was when he shipped me off to boarding school,” he adds, as he leans back into his chair. 

It’s a fucked up day, don’t you think? Tony’s being told Howard Fucking Stark bet the goddamn future on the son he couldn’t wait to get rid of.

“That’s not true,” Fury counters. His words fall out easy as if the years and years of trauma Howard gave him were not valid. As if whatever he lived through with his father wasn’t all that real. The world has always seen his father in a much different light than he ever did. He made peace with that. Howard Stark was a completely different than Tony’s dad but FUCK if it doesn’t grind his gears when he hears Fury spew this shit.

The future riding on me? Bull fucking shit!

“Well, then, clearly you knew my dad better than I did,” Tony half-concedes, wanting the topic to be over.

“As a matter of fact, I did,” Fury comments, putting his glass down on the makeshift table in front of them. The moment the words fall out of his mouth, a couple agents along with Agent Coulson and Natali—fuck! No. God!—Natasha Romanoff walk up in front of them. “He was one of the founding members of S.H.I.E.L.D.” Fury says that like that wasn’t a fucking bombshell he just dropped. The asshole is all nonchalant, looking down at his watch, absolutely uncensored about how he just broke Tony’s fucking brian a little bit.

The agents drop the crate infront of him.

“What?” Tony asks Fury, confounded. “WHAT?” He looks over at Y/n, who looks even more zen than Fury. “WHAT THE FUCK?”

Fury gets up off the chair “I got a two o’clock.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait! What’s this?” He asks, pointing at the crate.

“Okay, you’re good, right?” Fury asks, ready to walk away.

Tony’s up too. “No, I’m not good.”

“You got this? Right? Right?” Fury asks, pointing over at the crate.

“Got what?” Tony’s fucking lost. “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to get.”

“Natasha will remain a floater at Stark with her cover intact,” Fury informs him as he puts on his jacket. “You remember Agent Coulson, right?”

“Yeah,” is all he can say because he knows he’s not getting any more answers out of that guy.

Fury begins walking away, but stops for a second, turning to face him again, “Oh! And Tony, remember, I got my eye on you.”

That’s fucking hilarious.

Natalie/Agent Romanoff/Natasha—We will—we’ll just call her Agent Romanoff from hereon out. Anyway, so, Agent Romanoff says, “We’ve disabled all communications. No contact with the outside world. Good luck.” And with that she leaves as well.

Turning to Coulson, Tony begins, “Please. First thing, I need a little bodywork. I’ll put in a little time at the lab. If we could send one of your goon squad down to The Coffee Bean, Cross Creek, for a Starbucks run, or something like that, that’d be nice.”

“I’m not here for that,” Coulson’s reply is simple. “I’ve been authorised by Director Fury to use any means necessary to keep you on-premises. If you attempt to leave or play any games, I will tase you and watch Supernanny while you drool into the carpet. Okay?”

Fuck me! “I think I got it, yeah,” he replies instead. 

“Enjoy your evening’s entertainment,” Coulson comments. He turns over to Y/n then, “Ms. Stark, good to see you again.”

She smiles then. “Hey Phill, how’ve you been?” She asks as she pulls out the cigarette from between her lips, pulling a foot up and rubbing the butt across the soul of her boots, releasing pretty yellow embers. Pocketing the now extinguished butt she walks over to the men.

“I’ve been great. You?” She just passes a pointed look over at Tony as a response and Coulson has the audacity to smile. “Fair enough. You need anything?”

“A pack of menthols would be great,” she answers with a smile.

“On it,” Coulson nods, walking off.

And Tony cannot help but stare.

“What?” She asks, looking absolutely innocent.

Rolling his eyes, he replies, “Fuck the fuck off, Stark.” And that somehow makes her chuckle.

She waves him over, “Come on,” she says pointing at the crate. Understanding her instruction, both of them pick up the damn thing and begin dragging in downstairs.

It’s a little while later when they’re in the basement that Tony is hit with the realization that he never really knew his father at all.

He’s looking through the crate, it’s all stuff that seems fairly out of place but somewhat useful? He’s not sure. There are blue prints for the arc reactor, newspaper articles, videos reels and such.

He decides to play one of the reels. It seems to be the outtakes from the video of his father that he showcased at the Stark Expo earlier.

“Everything is achievable through technology. Better living, robust heath,” his father speaks on the video tape, while Tony tries flicking through a notebook and notes down some of the calculations he thinks might come in handy. “—and for the first time in human history, the possibility of world peace. I’m Howard Stark, and everything you’ll need for the future can be found right here. City of the Future? City of Tomorrow? City of—Hang on” Dad begins to fumble on the screen, redoing the take. “I’m Howard Stark and everything you’ll need in the future can be found right here.” This is fucking stupid, Tony thinks. He’s about to turn off the damn thing when—

“Hold on,” Y/n speaks up from behind him. It startles him a little because he didn’t even know she had entered the room. “You’re gonna miss the best part.”

And yeah, that grabs his attention.

As she walks over to lean on her side against the wall opposite Tony, the video continues.

While Dad keeps talking to the camera, he reconginizes a small child pop up from behind the model and pick up a building with a mischievous smile on his face. 

“So, from all of us at Stark Industries, I would like to personally—” Howard turns a little and then seems to finally notice Little Tony. “Tony, what are you doing back there? What is that?” He scolds the kid on screen. “Put that back. Put it back where you got it from. Where’s your sister? Y/n? Y/n!”

And then Y/n walks onto the screen, annoyed.

“I’m right fucking here, Howie! Okay? Can you—can you just—I don’t know, relax maybe?” She looks the same as she does right now. Maybe a new wrinkle or two, but mostly the same, except a lot more pissed. “And don’t fucking yell at him, you asshat!”

“Don’t curse infront of him, Y/n! You know how he is, he’ll pick it up and Maria will kill us both,” Howard reprimands her.

He watches as Y/n walks over to Little Tony, leaning down and dropping a kiss on his head. “Well, then don’t talk to him like that. He’s an inquisitive kid. I mean he’s your kid, what the—” she covers Little Tony’s ears with her hands. “—fuck—” she takes them off, “else were you expecting him to be like?”

His dad just shakes his head. “I’m trying to do something here,” he says, pointing at the camera that’s been rolling.

He can see Y/n rolling her eyes at Howard. “Yeah, yeah. Because this is what he’ll remember years later—not the parts where you kept yelling at him for absolute—” she covers her ears again, “—fucking bullshit—” uncovers them, “—that you seemed to care more about. A1 parenting Howie. Why don’t you write a book about it?”

And clearly, Howard feels some sense of guilt about it all because his head falls. With one hand on his waist and the other resting on the model, he revalutes his word for a few seconds and then looks up. Tony (this Tony, not Little Tony) can see he’s about to say something, wants to say something but before he can, Y/n picks up Little Tony on her shoulder. 

“Come on, Stark, we’ll go have our kinda fun and not invite Dad at all,” Y/n says excitedly, making Little Tony giggle.

He watches his dad let out a sigh in defeat.

Then the footage cuts off.

The screen shows a few more outtakes of Howard talking to the camera guy while drinking whiskey or redoing takes.

Tony can’t help himself.

“Why didn’t you tell me Dad founded S.H.I.E.L.D.?” He asks.

Y/n (real Y/n, not the video Y/n) looks over, now leaning on her back, she shrugs. “Wasn’t really pertinent information.”

“Wasn’t pertinent—Are you fucking kidding me?!” Tony’s gonna loose his fucking mind.

“I told you I worked with him!”

Tony can’t help but chuckle. “Now that’s just bullshit!” He’s shouting now, “I thought you meant at Stark Industries!”

“Why the fuck would they need a goddamn spy at Stark Industries??!!” She bites back, standing straight now. She’s shouting too.

“To spy on competitive companies! I don’t know??!!”

“You think Stark Industries needed an expert spy, adept at espionage to keep an eye on their competition?!!” Her hands are flying everywhere. “Is the palladium giving you retroactive brain damage?!”

Frankly? It does seem really stupid on his part to presume that she worked as a spy for Stark Industries. But come on! He wasn’t provided the entire data.

“Oh my god, I get that you’re trying to insult me but that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever,” Tony bites back regardless. “Maybe you’re the one with brain damage.”

She begins walking over to him. “I’ll show you brain damage—”

He gets off the chair, ready to throw down with her. “Yeah, fine, show me, granny—”

Both Stark sibling halt in their position, with hands around each other’s throat, ready to throw punches, when the video recording on the screen calls out to him.

“Tony.” Dad is looking into the camera, sitting atop the model behind him. His previous put together suit gone, all that’s left now is his messy tie and white shirt with rolled up sleeves. “You’re too young to understand this right now, so I thought I would put it on film for you. I built this for you. And someday you’ll realise that it represents a whole lot more than just people’s inventions. It represents my life’s work. This is the key to the future. I’m limited by the technology of my time, but one day you’ll figure this out. And when you do, you will change the world. What is and always will be my greatest creation is you.”

The reel runs out. Screen goes white.

Both the Starks, slowly take their hands off each other and sit down on the floor, facing each other.

After a silence that seems to stretch on for a little too long, Y/n decides to break it.

“How could you think I was a spy for Stark Industries?” She has a small smile on her face.

Tony can’t help but smile too. “I don’t know, man. You’re just… You’re like the box of Cinnamon Toast Crunch in my kitchen cupboard. You’re just here, you’re always here, you’ve always been here. I don’t question it.” He shrugs. “I just enjoy having it be there.”

“It's me,” Y/n says, leaning back far enough to support herself with her elbows.

“What?”

“I replace the boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch.”

Tony laughs, “Figures.” He shakes his head. “I—I—I think—” He can’t help but laugh again, “I didn’t put much thought behind it, but I kinda just figured that Aunt Peg just handed you to Dad and that was that.”

Nodding her head slowly, she agrees. “That’s kinda exactly what happened. I was this freak of a thing she’d recued on an op, and then yeah, she basically handed me over to Howie.” Her head falls back as she looks up at the ceiling. “It helped that he was probably my best friend in the entire world.”

Tony snorts in amusement. “Didn’t really look like it on the video,” he says, pointing to the screen.

She looks at him then, “After—I guess, after you were born—I don’t know. It got complicated. I expected him to do better by you. And don’t get me wrong, he tried to… but—” Her words drop off.

“But—” He prompts, desperate to know more.

She shrugs. “But it wasn’t good enough, it wasn’t persistent. He could’ve done better, he should have. He knew that.” She shakes her head. “Like I said, it was complicated.” Her head falls back again. “Once you were born you became my favorite person in the entire world and nothing was good enough. I guess—I mean maybe he just didn’t know how to be a dad, you know? He didn’t make for a great dad, but he was still my best friend.”

And yeah, he can understand that.

This man, the man who saved her, gave her a home, founded an organisation with her, for her—opposing him on anything couldn’t have been easy for her. It all does sound fairly complicated.

I guess Howard Stark never had an uncomplicated relationship, did he?

The thought makes him smile.

But then he remembers.

“Still pretty uncool of you, you know? Going behind my back and calling mom,” he says, with a cunning smile.

She looks at him with an unimpressed look. “I called Fury because he was the only guy who could get through to you. You have a habit of overlooking my advice when shit is hitting the fan.”

He nods in understanding. “But you still called mom.”

“I saved you from dying.”

“...by calling mom.”

She kicks him gently with her leg. “Whatever, asshole.”

Read the next part here.

Find the series masterlist here. Find the Static Verse Masterlist here. Read The Avengers (ft. Static) here.

tag list : @aryksworld @freeflyingphoenix @arikarapli @just-anotherstan @justab-eautifulmess @ceo-of-daichi @liketearsintherainn @paintballkid711 @starkleila @heyitsmereading @fairlygothparents @euphoria-svt @sidepartskinnyjeans @mini-kunoichi @third-broparcelicito @siwiecola @haleybutnotthecomet @mvaldez7821 @rockybutmakeitlame @romanoffswoman @ashpeace888 @hopeofwinter @percabethfangirl987

hit me up if you wanna be added to the tag list.

[skylarinfinity]

[child m/n running inside his home after long day at school]

child m/n: [looking at the aquarium that supposed to have his gold fish] mummy where buster?

peggy: [kneeling to m/n level] baby, buster he died when you at school and daddy already bury him-

[child m/n immediately crying his heart out]

peggy: [panicking] baby, it's okay that's how life wo-

child m/n: [sniffles] why daddy bury him? i want to eat buster! [stomp his small feet]

peggy: oh...

author notes daniel sousa is m/n dad.

tags lists @sonicqaulan @graysonfriggason @thebettermaximofftwins @sloanalistair @acienthazard @starlinggoldeneyes @ortegaolsen @wednesdaywanda @sandwichmarvel @gardenofmarvel @wanda-cabin-natasha-jacket @panandinpain0 @badblondebisexualboy

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Caught ~Peggy Carter xFem Reader

Howard catches Peggy and Y/N, only to find out they’ve been married for years.

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: kissing, fluff, gay marriage

Short blurb

Enjoy (:

Howard Stark walked into Peggy Carter's office, expecting to find her working on some new technology.

Instead, he found her lips intertwined with a woman he had never seen before. Howard froze in place, unsure of what to do next.

Peggy and Y/N quickly broke apart, both looking a little embarrassed at being caught.

"Howard," Peggy said, her voice a little shaky. "This is my wife, Y/N. Y/N, this is Howard Stark."

Peggy Carter, the woman he had admired for years, was married?

How had he not known?

"Wife?" he repeated dumbly.

"Yes, Howard," Peggy said, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I got married a few years ago."

Howard shook his head, still in disbelief. "I can't believe I didn't know," he said, walking over to shake Y/N's hand.

Y/N smiled at him, a little unsure of what to make of the whole situation. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Stark," she said.

Howard sat down in one of the chairs in front of Peggy's desk, still trying to process the information.

"So, when did this happen?" he asked.

"A few years ago," Peggy repeated. "We kept it quiet, for obvious reasons."

Howard nodded, finally starting to come to terms with the situation.

"Well, congratulations," he said, a grin spreading across his face. "I'm happy for you both."

Peggy and Y/N both smiled at him, the tension in the room finally starting to dissipate.

"Thank you, Howard," Peggy said. "It means a lot coming from you."

[angelremnants]

Roll Call | J. B. Barnes

THREE. Orders and Oaths

summary : The biting winters of 1943 paled in comparison to the frozen hearts of soldiers, weary and broken by the unrelenting call of war. For men burdened by despair, the burn of alcohol was the only warmth they knew. Sergeant Barnes lived for one purpose: to stand by his best friend’s side, no matter where the battlefield led them. But a chance encounter at a dimly lit bar near the military camp changes everything. A young woman, bold yet gentle, awakens something in him—a spark long buried beneath years of frost and pain. Inspired by Roll Call by The Neighborhood.

pairings : James ''Bucky'' Barnes x f!reader, implied!Steve Rogers x Margaret Elizabeth "Peggy" Carter

warnings : Mature themes (+13), heavy angst, emotional distress (arguments, grief and heartbreak), mentions of kidnapping, implied violence, implied major character's death. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 5.2k

(ao3 version)

It was another quiet night at the diner. [Y/N] moved methodically through her shift, wiping down counters and taking orders with a distracted air. She hadn’t seen Bucky in days. Her lunch boxes were always gone by the time she checked, but his responses had become increasingly scarce. She’d sent him notes, slipped them into the post office, but he never replied. She tried not to think too much of it, but the anxiety had been gnawing at her more and more.

The door chimed as it opened, and Peggy stepped in, her usual confident stride slightly subdued. [Y/N] glanced up, offering a smile as she wiped her hands on a rag.

“Peggy, hey,” She greeted, noticing the small, tense smile Peggy wore.

“Hey, [Y/N].” Peggy’s voice had a softness to it as she walked up to the counter, her eyes darting around before locking with her friend’s. “Got a minute?”

“Of course.” [Y/N] nodded, leaning against the counter. “Everything alright?”

Peggy hesitated, as if gathering her thoughts, before she finally spoke. “I just wanted to stop by… say my goodbyes.” She gave a small, self-conscious laugh, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You know, before everything starts moving too fast.”

[Y/N] tilted her head in confusion. “Goodbyes? Where are you going?”

Peggy glanced around again, her eyes lingering on the door as though ensuring no one was listening. She spoke in a hushed tone. “We’re all being deployed. Some of us, including Bucky.”

[Y/N] felt her stomach drop, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, trying to make sense of the words. “Bucky? What do you mean? Is he leaving too?” The question was out before she could stop herself, the panic rising in her chest.

Peggy’s face softened with a guilty look. “Yeah, he’s part of the mission. He’s… one of the ones going out with us. Thought you knew.”

[Y/N] felt her heart thumping loudly, her hands shaking slightly as she tried to process the information. “No… I didn’t. He hasn’t said anything.” Her voice was almost a whisper, strained with the sudden weight of the news.

Peggy’s expression shifted into something close to guilt, and she reached out, taking her hand gently. “I didn’t mean to drop that on you. I thought he’d told you. It’s hard, I know. But he’s going, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.” She paused, her voice quiet now. “It’s a tough situation, and… well, you know how things go.”

[Y/N]’s mind raced. She hadn’t even been given the chance to prepare herself. Bucky, her Bucky, was going into danger, and she hadn’t been told. He had kept his distance, left her in the dark, and now she was left with nothing but worry.

“But why didn’t he tell me?” Her voice trembled, and she pulled her hand back, feeling the sting of betrayal. “Why didn’t he say anything to me? He just… stopped answering my notes and took the lunches, but never said a word.”

Peggy sighed, stepping a little closer. “My guess is that he didn’t want you to worry. He’s always been like that—pushing people away when things get too real. He probably thought it’d be easier if you didn’t know. He didn’t want to burden you with the danger he’s about to face. But he’s doing this because it’s his duty, and he… well, he wants to protect you. It’s not that he doesn’t care.”

[Y/N] looked down, trying to hold back the flood of emotion threatening to spill over. “But I care, Peggy. I care about him more than anything. I just… I don’t want to lose him.”

Peggy’s voice softened, filled with empathy. “I know. And he knows. He’ll come back to you, [Y/N]. He’s strong. But right now, there’s nothing you can do but wait and hope.”

She nodded slowly, her throat tightening with the unshed tears she refused to let fall. “I guess I don’t really have a choice, do I?” Her words were barely audible as she tried to steady herself.

“No, you don’t.” Peggy gave her a small, sad smile, squeezing her shoulder gently. “But just know that he cares about you, and that’s not something he’s ever going to stop. He’ll be alright.”

[Y/N] nodded again, forcing a smile despite the pain in her chest. “Thanks, Peggy. I appreciate you being here. I just… wish I could have had more time.”

Peggy’s smile faltered, but she gave a final, reassuring squeeze before she turned to leave. “Take care of yourself, [Y/N]. He’ll be back before you know it.”

As Peggy disappeared into the night, she stood there, her heart heavy, the weight of the unknown pressing down on her.

Bucky was leaving.

The camp buzzed with activity as soldiers moved with precision, the hum of preparation filling the air. [Y/N]’s heart sank as she clutched the strap of her bag tightly, scanning the sea of uniforms until she spotted him—a flash of dark hair amidst the chaos. Without hesitation, she stormed forward, weaving past the guards.

“James!” she called out, her voice cracking with a mix of anger and fear.

Bucky turned, surprised to hear her voice cutting through the noise. His conversation with Steve halted as he faced her, his brows furrowing.

“[Y/N]? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she shot back, her voice trembling. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Did you think I wouldn’t find out? That I’m just some distraction you can leave behind whenever it suits you?”

“Dollface, I swear, it’s not like that,” Bucky started, stepping closer, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“No. You listen to me!”

Before she could say another word, Bucky grabbed her arm and ushered her into a nearby tent, zipping the flap shut behind them. The sudden silence inside felt suffocating, and the poorly working yellow light was adding discomfort to the ambiance as she glared at him.

“Okay,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “Before you start tearing me apart like that, just… let me explain.”

[Y/N] crossed her arms, leaning back against the edge of the desk, glaring at him. “Fine. Explain. But this better be good, Barnes.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair, his shoulders heavy with tension. “We’re being deployed. Steve, Peggy, and I—we’re heading out on a mission. I wanted to tell you, but…” His voice faltered as he looked at her. “I didn’t know how. I was about to write you a letter and leave it at the post office, I thought it would be easier that way.” He glanced at the abandoned parchment lying haphazardly on the desk.

The weight of his words hit her like a blow. “When will you be back?” she asked softly, her voice betraying the fear she was trying to suppress.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know?” Her chest tightened. “How am I supposed to wait for you if I don’t even know if—” Her voice broke, and she quickly turned away, blinking back tears.

“Doll,” he murmured, stepping closer. “I can’t make promises about the timeline, but I will come back. I swear.”

She turned to him, her gaze sharp, unwilling to let him off so easily. “How can I believe you, Bucky? You’ve been avoiding me for days while planning this. Do you have any idea what it’s like to feel like an afterthought?”

Bucky’s jaw clenched, and suddenly, before she could say another word, he was in front of her, caging her in against the desk. His hands pressed firmly to the surface on either side of her, his chest brushing against hers as his blue eyes bore into hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch.

“[Y/N],” he said, his voice low and steady. “You are not an afterthought. Don’t you ever think that. You’re the reason I fight in the first place. The thought of you is what keeps me going out there, no matter how dark it gets.”

His words hit her like a tidal wave, and she searched his face for any hint of doubt, but all she saw was raw, unfiltered emotion. Her resolve crumbled as he reached out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“When you’re out there, in the middle of it all… don’t forget who you are,” [Y/N]’s voice wavered slightly, but she forced herself to stay steady. “You’re not just some soldier. You’re James—you’re more than that.”

Bucky swallowed hard, his eyes shifting away for a moment, clearly struggling with the weight of her words. “I don’t know if I can ever be what you want me to be… what I want to be.”

[Y/N] stepped closer, her hand reaching up to gently turn his face back toward her. “You don’t need to be anything else, Bucky. Just be you. The only thing I wisj for is for you to come back safe.”

He closed his eyes briefly, as if letting her words settle into his heart, before meeting her gaze again. “I’ll try… for you.”

A moment of silence passed, thick with emotion. The air between them was heavy, charged with everything they didn’t want to say but couldn’t ignore. 

“Promise me…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “When you come back, we’ll go skating on the lake. Like the night we kissed for the first time.”

A flicker of surprise passed over his face, followed by a rare, genuine smile—one that wasn’t tainted by sarcasm or bravado. “You really know how to catch a guy off guard, don’t you?”

“Promise me,” she repeated, her voice firmer this time.

“I promise,” he said softly, his lips quirking into that familiar lopsided grin.

The tension between them thickened, and suddenly, as though the urgency of the moment overwhelmed him, Bucky leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t soft or careful—it was desperate, searing, and full of everything he couldn’t put into words. His hands framed her face, pulling her closer, and she clung to him, memorizing the feel of his touch, his warmth, his love.

When they broke apart, breathless, his forehead rested against hers, and his voice trembled. “That’s so you don’t forget me.”

“As if I ever could,” she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks.

The tent flap suddenly rustled open, revealing Steve and Peggy. Steve’s expression was apologetic but firm. “Bucky. It’s time.”

Bucky turned back to [Y/N], his blue eyes holding hers as though trying to memorize every detail of her face. “Stay safe, doll,” he murmured before reluctantly stepping away.

She watched as they left the tent, her chest tightening as she followed them outside. The rumble of engines filled the air as they boarded the plane. Steve gave her a reassuring nod, and Peggy offered a quick, sympathetic glance before disappearing inside.

And then, Bucky turned one last time, his figure silhouetted against the gray sky. He raised a hand in farewell, his lopsided grin a stark contrast to the ache in her heart.

The plane roared to life, and she stood frozen as it disappeared into the clouds, not knowing that this would be the last time she’d see him as the man she loved.

The cold metal walls of the Hydra facility pressed in on Bucky from all sides. He had no idea how long he’d been here—days, weeks, months? Time had lost its meaning. His body ached, his mind ached, and all he could hear was the incessant hum of machinery and the cruel whispers of his captors.

He could feel the heavy weight of his body, strapped to the chair, each part of him burning with pain. He had been through so much, the conditioning, the brainwashing, and then the fall from the helicopter—his final mission, the one where everything had gone wrong. They had told him Steve couldn’t save him in time. They told him that he was dead. And in the cold, dark place that was Hydra, a part of him wished he was.

His fingers twitched involuntarily, bound tightly to the chair, but the pain in his wrist didn’t register anymore. He was numb—numb to the sharp bites of the electricity coursing through his veins, numb to the endless experiments they conducted, and most of all, numb to his own identity. Each moment felt like a blur, like pieces of himself were being stripped away, bit by bit until he wasn’t sure who he was anymore.

Then, a voice. A name.

[Y/N].

Her name flickered in his mind like a fragile ember, something too delicate to hold on to but impossible to fully extinguish. He felt his heart lurch, a deep, painful yearning pulling at the remnants of his consciousness. He had to remember.

“[Y/N],” he whispered aloud, his voice raw and cracked. His eyes fluttered shut as her face materialized in his mind—her smile, the warmth of her touch, the way she used to laugh like the world was at her feet.

You’re not just some soldier. You’re James—you’re more than that.

Her words echoed, a soft, loving plea that pierced through the fog of his mind. She had told him that once, and he had believed it—at least, he thought he had. But now? Now, in the darkness, he wasn’t sure who James was anymore. He wasn’t sure if there was anything left of him to salvage.

Stay safe, doll.

Back home, [Y/N] sat frozen in front of the letter, its edges fraying as her hands shook. Another missive, another word of silence. No news. No letters. No sign of Bucky. Every day felt like a punishment—waiting for the man she loved to come home, only to hear that he was missing, lost in the chaos of the war.

Her thoughts flickered back to the last time she had seen him—the last time they had been together. It was supposed to be another mission, just another goodbye. But it had been the last one. She remembered how he had smiled before he left, the warmth of his eyes, and his final words. She hadn’t known then that it would be the last time she would feel his touch.

She didn’t know that the helicopter had been his last hope—he had fallen. She had heard the stories. The whispers. She had held on to a faint hope that it wasn’t true, that he was just missing, lost in the chaos of battle, but her heart had been telling her something else.

Promise me you’ll come back.

Her voice trembled as she whispered into the empty room, as if somehow, by saying it aloud, it might reach him. She remembered how he had promised. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, that the letters she received—short, distant—were not the man she had fallen in love with.

“He’s still out there,” she muttered to herself, the words slipping out like a fragile mantra. “He’s still out there.” But the longer she waited, the harder it became to believe. The dread settled deep in her chest like a stone she couldn’t lift. Each day without a word felt like a betrayal of the love they shared.

She wandered to the lake—the place where they had first kissed, where they had made those small promises. It was the last place she felt close to him, even though the cold wind nipped at her cheeks and the emptiness pressed against her heart.

I’ll wait for you, she whispered, almost pleading. I’ll wait for you. Please come back.

Her words were swallowed by the wind, just as Bucky’s had been swallowed by the chaos. And still, she waited, knowing that with each passing day, the chance of him returning grew smaller.

Back in the cold, sterile air felt suffocating as Bucky sat alone in the darkened room, hands shackled, unable to move. The room spun around him, a disorienting blur of shapes and sounds as Hydra’s control over him dug deeper into his mind. He could feel their presence like a weight pressing against his skull, trying to pull him further into the haze.

The buzz of machinery was replaced by the sound of a door’s opening mechanism. He opened his eyes, but it wasn’t the guards he expected—it was her. It was [Y/N], standing there in the doorway, looking at him with those wide, hopeful eyes that had always been his anchor.

“Bucky,” she whispered softly, stepping toward him, her voice barely audible but full of such sorrow. She reached for him, her hand brushing the chains that bound him, but she couldn’t touch him. She couldn’t reach him. The image flickered, and he was left alone in the cold, dark cell once more.

[Y/N].

The memories blurred together, fragmented flashes of their time together. He remembered how she had held his hand on the cold winter night, the way she had looked at him with such trust, and the promise she made that they would always have each other, no matter what.

His fingers instinctively reached for the pendant, the one Y/N had given him. It had always been a small, comforting piece of her, tucked securely under his shirt. But now, there was nothing—only the empty space where it once rested against his chest. They had taken it. Hydra had stolen that final piece of connection.

His chest tightened, and his heart ached, but somewhere deep within the fog, there was a glimmer of her. The warmth of her smile. Her voice calling his name. He clenched his eyes shut, trying to hold onto it, but the memory felt slippery, fading with every passing second.

He thought about the pendant—about the engraving she had placed on it. “For when you’re far away.” He had carried it with him, a symbol of the love he had left behind. And now it was gone. But somewhere in the darkest corners of his mind, he could still feel her presence.

But now… now all he could see was the Hydra mask, the cold eyes, the whispers. They had taken him so far from himself, that it felt like the real Bucky was someone he’d never be again.

If only he could remember more.

Back in the quiet of her room, [Y/N] sat alone in the dim light of her room, the weight of the watch in her hands pressing into her palm. It had always been there, just like Bucky’s presence. A watch with a small compartment behind the face where a picture could be hidden—one that Bucky had given her, just before the chaos had started when she first began to notice that time wasn’t moving as it should. She remembered him taking the watch from his pocket and gently pressing it into her hand, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“For when you need me,” he had said, his fingers lingering on the edges of the metal. She could still feel the warmth of his touch, as if it was somehow engraved into the very metal of the watch. And inside, she had placed the picture—one of them, laughing together, carefree. It was the only thing that had helped steady her as the days felt longer, the hours slipping away, the minutes fading before they could be captured.

She opened the watch now, the familiar click of the hinge echoing in the quiet room. The picture was still there—faded around the edges, but still vibrant enough to hold the memory of them. Of him. His face, his smile, a snapshot of a time before everything fell apart.

But now, staring at the picture, her heart clenched with an emptiness that swallowed her whole. She had to believe—she had to hold on to that smile, that moment. The watch, like the pendant, was a promise. 

But what good was the promise if he was lost to her?

Back in Hydra’s cold grip, Bucky gasped for air as the shock of the latest experiment sent jolts of agony through his body. His mind flashed again to [Y/N].

She would never leave me, he thought, though his mind was clouded with the fog of his conditioning. The memories were beginning to blur, and her face starting to dissolve into the darkness. She promised she would wait. The words were like a faint whisper in the wind, just out of reach, slipping through his fingers every time he tried to hold on to them.

Bucky’s mind reeled with conflicting thoughts—his identity slipping further from him, the Winter Soldier’s programming slowly taking over, and [Y/N]’s face, her voice, her love.

Suddenly, another flash of memory. He saw her again, standing in front of him, asking him to promise that he’d come back safe. She had been so sure. But what if she was wrong? What if he didn’t make it back? What if the man she had loved—James—was already gone?

He clenched his fists, the cold shackles biting into his wrists, the pain reminding him of his humanity, of the promises made. He remembered her, his [Y/N], even as the Hydra agents moved to reset him, to erase his mind and reshape him into their weapon.

[Y/N]. Her name echoed again, louder this time, breaking through the fog. He fought to hold onto it, to hold onto who he was. James.

Back at the diner, [Y/N] sat at the counter, staring at the empty seat where Bucky would always sit when he came in. It felt like a lifetime ago that she had served him coffee, teasing him about his military days, watching him smile with that lopsided grin. That grin was now just a memory.

Please come back.

Her hands trembled around the coffee mug, and she let the tears fall freely. The world around her was moving on, but for her, it felt like time had stopped. There was no future without him.

And as the wind howled outside, the rain began to fall—a torrential downpour, washing away all the remnants of the past.

In the distance, somewhere far away, Bucky felt the echoes of her pain. Though he couldn’t see it, couldn’t feel it, he knew, deep down, that he wasn’t just fighting for his life. He was fighting for her.

The cold wind bit at the skin of everyone waiting on the docks. Years had passed, and Peggy now stood beside [Y/N] her hand tight around her friend’s, though it wasn’t the only thing causing tension between them. She had arrived earlier than the troops, due to her being part of a special force. Both women had been anxiously scanning the ship’s disembarking soldiers, the long wait growing unbearable with each passing moment.

But something else gnawed at the edges of [Y/N]’s mind—a deep, unsettling feeling she couldn’t quite place. She turned her head from side to side, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest as the men in uniform marched off the ship in perfect formation. Where was he? Where was James?

Then, she saw Peggy’s face light up. Her breath hitched as Peggy pulled away and rushed forward. The look of relief on Peggy’s face was unmistakable, and she flung herself into Steve’s arms without hesitation, his head immediately burying itself in the crook of her neck. The sight almost brought a smile to [Y/N]’s lips, but the heavy feeling in her chest only deepened as her gaze continued to sweep the crowd for the familiar face she desperately needed to see.

Where was Bucky?

Steve and Peggy murmured to each other, their heads bent close, and something in their words caught [Y/N]’s attention. She watched as they exchanged quiet, anxious words, their expressions growing darker. Something was wrong. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She needed to know.

In a panic, she asked, “Where is Bucky?” Her voice, usually steady, cracked slightly, betraying the fear she was trying to keep hidden.

As Steve looked at [Y/N], his face pale with grief and guilt, he felt the weight of the truth crush him. His words had already broken the fragile silence between them, but it was the look on [Y/N]’s face that truly shattered him. He could see the heartache in her eyes, the shock, the disbelief. It was too much to bear.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Peggy. Her eyes were wide, her lips parted as she watched him, frozen for a moment in the same agony that had overtaken him. Then, as if something snapped within her, she rushed toward him.

Without a word, she threw her arms around Steve, her body shaking with unspoken sorrow. He could feel her warmth, her heartbeat against his chest. And in that moment, for the first time in a long while, Steve allowed himself to lean into her, to let his guard fall. He buried his face into her shoulder, his grip tightening around her, finding solace in the steady presence she offered.

For Peggy, holding Steve was an unspoken promise. She wasn’t going to let him fall, not when he needed her most. She’d seen him broken before, but this felt different—this loss, this weight. She didn’t need to say anything; the comfort she offered was enough.

Meanwhile, [Y/N] stood at a distance, her heart torn between the two of them, but unable to reach out. She watched Steve, his broad shoulders trembling under the weight of the world, held by Peggy. The sight only deepened her sense of loss, the overwhelming grief that gripped her chest.

Is it true?

Bucky’s mind was clouded with the echoes of pain. He couldn’t tell if he was awake or lost in some fragmented dream. The cold, sterile environment pressed against him—metal and darkness, a constant reminder of Hydra’s grasp. But there was something else, a flicker of warmth, of light, cutting through the haze. Y/N’s face.

Stay strong, Bucky.

But who is Bucky? And where did this melodious voice come from?

Her words looped in his mind like a lifeline. He squeezed his eyes shut, his pulse racing. He had to hold on—had to stay strong for her. But each time he tried to push the darkness away, the cold metal surrounding him tightened, and his memories began to slip away.

[Y/N]’s hands trembled, her mind racing. She was still caught in Steve’s words. What did he mean, ‘there’s something you need to know’? It was like the ground beneath her was crumbling, piece by piece. She could feel her chest tighten, each heartbeat like a reminder of the growing emptiness in her life.

Bucky—please be okay. Please come back.

Her thoughts drifted to the last time she’d seen him—his voice, so steady, so certain. I’ll be back. She could almost hear him say it now, his voice ringing through the storm of fear that had settled in her heart. She needed to believe him. She had to.

Bucky’s eyes fluttered open in the dark. The sound of [Y/N]’s name echoed in his mind. He gasped for air, as though he had been holding his breath for an eternity. James. It was like an anchor, pulling him from the fog. His name, his real name was the one that had been buried under layers of false identities and pain.

But the connection was fleeting—slipping through his fingers as quickly as it had appeared.

I’m waiting for you, James.

Her voice, so soft, so clear. He could almost feel her there with him, her hand in his, warm and steady. But just as quickly, it was gone. His mind buzzed with Hydra’s commands, the sharp sting of pain drawing him back to the reality of his imprisonment.

[Y/N]’s breath caught as Steve’s voice broke the silence again. “Bucky’s… he’s gone, [Y/N]. He fell.”

The words seemed to sink into her, their weight heavy and suffocating. Her chest felt hollow, and yet, in that hollow space, there was a sharp, biting pain, one that made her feel like she was losing herself. She had already known, hadn’t she? In the deepest part of her, she had feared this—hoped it wasn’t true, but feared it all the same.

She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

Please don’t let this be real.

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat as the memories of [Y/N] flooded his mind again, even though he was barely conscious. Her voice, her name, was all he could hold onto now. Even in this place—this cold, broken place—she was his tether to something real. He had to hold on.

[Y/N]… I’ll be back.

The thought came like a whisper, like a memory of something he might have said once. But the words were fading, slipping from his grasp, just as she had.

[Y/N] stood motionless, her eyes wide, as the weight of Steve’s words crashed down on her. She had been holding on for so long, hoping for the impossible. She wanted to scream, to deny it, to tell Steve that he was wrong, that Bucky wasn’t gone. But the look in Steve’s eyes—the sorrow, the loss—told her the truth before the words ever reached her ears.

Her heart shattered, and for a moment, the world around her felt like it was falling apart.

As Steve leaned on Peggy for support, she caught the look in [Y/N]’s eyes—a look of pure devastation. Her breath hitched, her chest rising and falling with shallow gasps. Peggy felt her heartache as she watched the young woman struggling to hold herself together, her hands trembling at her sides.

Without thinking, Peggy turned toward her. She placed a steady hand on her shoulder, offering her a soft but firm touch that spoke volumes. “[Y/N],” she said, her voice low and steady, “you don’t have to do this alone.”

She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed, her face pale with shock. Her lips parted, but no words came. The anguish was too deep to express. At that moment, everything felt lost—the world had gone dark, and the weight of Bucky’s absence seemed unbearable.

Peggy didn’t wait for a response. She simply pulled her into her arms, guiding her close. [Y/N] collapsed against her, her body trembling as the tears she had been holding back finally spilled over. Peggy’s arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly as she let the younger woman cry. It wasn’t much, but it was all she could offer—her presence, her strength.

“I’m here,” Peggy murmured, her voice quiet but filled with sincerity. “We’re all here for you, [Y/N].”

The young woman nodded into her shoulder, her chest heaving as sobs wracked her body. In that moment, she felt the weight of everything—the loss of Bucky, the uncertainty of the future, the fear of being left behind—but Peggy’s steady presence grounded her, reminding her that she wasn’t alone.

She wasn’t, but she still felt the harsh and cold breeze of loneliness passing through her.

Bucky’s body trembled against the cold metal of his cell, his mind drifting back to the warmth of [Y/N]’s embrace, the feel of her hands in his hair as they stood together in the quiet of their shared moments. He could feel her again, even now, her name a faint echo in his consciousness. But the darkness was closing in, the memories slipping faster.

She was waiting for him. But would he be able to return to her?

ending notes : i told you not to get too comfortable.. sweet, sweet roller coaster of emotions.

Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

dividers ©️ @chachachannah + @cyberbeat + @vesearartistry .

angelremnants ©️ 2024. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.

PART ONE. l PREVIOUS PART. l NEXT PART.

[ssadumba55]

Being Peggy Carter's Naive and Gentle Younger Brother Would Include...

Request: I saw in your fandom list that you write for agent carter!!! Could you maybe write some headcannoms for what being her younger brother (or sibling you prefer!) who knows about her life and everything, but is a very soft and gentle person - though a bit naive at times with trusting nature?

She is insanely protective over you, like she tries to avoid telling you too much because she doesn't want you to get kidnapped for information and when you do eventually draw it out, she's obsessed with your safety.

And she'll be suspicious of everyone you talk to, even if they're a normal everyday person she doesn't want you to get hurt. You know she's just trying to look out for you but it can get annoying and overbearing sometimes

She is a really good sister though, she will banter with you back and forth and the two of you will throw insults as well

Often times people will overlook her because she's a woman, which sometimes works to her advantage, but if she needs a man to do something for her she won't hesitate to call you up. She has used you for more missions than you can count. You know that you're safe the whole time though; she'd never let anything happen to you

You and Jarvis get along so well. He seriously loves that you're so normal and sweet compared to your sister, the opposite of her pretty much in every way. He will literally just hang out with you at random times

You have to dress a lot of her wounds, you know the ones that Jarvis doesn't get to first. Because of this you've grown accustomed to storing first aid supplies

Worrying about her constantly. Not because she's a woman, you know she's fully capable but because you'd hate to see anything happen to your amazing badass older sister

She will protect you from anything and anyone. You'll never have a toxic ex because she wouldn't allow anyone who hurts you to live that long

Lots of late night worrying but also lots of late nights spent reminiscing and laughing with her over memories; from your childhood and from her adventures. There's never a dull moment between the two of you

She buys you food to make up for it. Plenty of baked goods especially, whatever your favourite is she'll get you whatever you want

Often times, she stands up for you when you can't bring yourself to say things. She always knows the right thing to say and she often leaves the people who are bothering you tongue tied

[fandomnerd9602]

Peggy and Y/N walk out to intercept the Scarlet Witch…

Y/N: hey baby

Wanda: do I know you?

Peggy: you didn’t look at the family photos? Wanda, seriously, love.

Wanda’s eyes soften…

Wanda: oh…it’s not fair. Why am I so loved in this universe and not in my own?

Y/N: you can be. I exist there. Just find me and I know I’ll be crazy about you. Also maybe don’t hunt Chavez.

Peggy: seriously that girl is hurting and wanting a family as much as you.

Wanda: I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

The Scarlet Witch leaves Wanda’s body…

Peggy and Y/N catch their Wanda…

Wanda: detkas? How did I get here?

Peggy: we’ll explain over cuddles after we tuck the boys in tonight, love

For @konstantin609

[eclipsedechoesofmywords]

Can you please do Jack Thompson x reader where reader and him don’t really like each other and argue often but then one day when the SSR does a joint mission with the FBI, an FBI agent starts being really weird, rude and creepy towards her, and Jack gets super protective. Thank you!!

"A Little Bit of Respect"

[Jack Thompson x fem!reader]

Masterlist

Summary: You might not like Jack and he might not like you, but he would protect you like his life depended on it.

Warnings: harassment, inappropriate behaviour, threats (let me know if there's anything else)

Word Count: 1.5k words

A/N: Thank you for the request love! I'm sorry it took so long. I hope you like it!

Jack Thompson was, for lack of a better term, a pain in your ass.

From his smug smirk that made you want to punch him, his constant tendency to stick his nose where it didn't belong to his sexist comments(though those were surprisingly getting fewer nowadays).

The two of you often bickered, sniping back and forth over the smallest things. He'd interrupt you during conversations, roll his eyes when you made a point, and constantly try to undermine your authority. It was infuriating. You both seemed to have a natural ability to get under each other’s skin.

"I swear," you muttered, rubbing your temples. "One day, I'm going to strangle him with my bare hands."

"Preferably not in front of any witnesses," Peggy added dryly, her voice full of the amusement that always seemed to follow when she played devil's advocate.

You grumbled. "It's worse that I must spend the entire day with him too."

She hummed in acknowledgement. "Best of luck to you, dear."

Common interests lead you to work with the FBI today. Unfortunately, Peggy and Sousa were busy with something else so it was just going to be you and Thompson. And the FBI agents that were likely all male.

---

It was straightforward—a joint operation between the SSR and the FBI to gather intel on a potential still active Hydra cell. The agents from the FBI were supposed to be professional, but as you walked into the briefing room with Jack, you felt the eyes on you.

One pair of eyes particularly frayed your nerves. You would learn that his name was Agent Martin Wells. You didn't like the way he was looking at you the entire time. You were used to lingering looks on you, for being a woman in a male-dominated field, for your figure, you were used to it all, but that doesn't mean it made you any less uncomfortable.

It was only for a day though. Hopefully.

You tried to ignore it, focusing on the mission details, but the weight of Agent Wells’ gaze felt like it was pressing on your skin. It wasn’t the curious or professional kind of stare—it was unsettling, almost predatory. And you hated it.

You caught Jack shooting glances at you too, but you couldn’t tell if he noticed what you were feeling or if he was just being his usual annoying self.

"You’re sure you’re okay with this, Thompson?" You snapped, trying to focus on something else, trying to keep the growing discomfort from showing.

Jack didn’t look at you directly. He seemed too busy listening to one of the other agents. But when you shot him a pointed glare, his smirk faded slightly, just enough for you to see the seriousness flicker in his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"

You hesitated for just a second. “Wells... He’s been staring at me like I’m some kind of... target.”

Jack followed your gaze and immediately stiffened. You saw the flash of irritation in his eyes before he returned his attention to the briefing.

"You don’t have to worry about him," Jack said in a low voice, though there was an edge to it. "Focus on the mission. We’ll be fine."

You weren’t sure if it was the way he said it or the rare softness in his tone, but something in you relaxed. Still, you weren’t about to let your guard down around Wells.

---

The mission itself was typical, though you felt like Wells was deliberately trying to edge closer to you every chance he got. Whether it was brushing against you when you were organizing supplies or standing a little too close when you were discussing strategy, the man’s presence was inescapable.

"Do you always have to get so close?" You couldn’t help but mutter at one point, after his shoulder practically bumped into yours for what felt like the hundredth time.

Wells flashed you a smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "I’m just trying to help, sweetheart."

You recoiled, not liking the way the term of endearment rolled off his tongue. "I can handle myself just fine," you snapped, keeping your voice steady.

But Wells wasn’t deterred. He leaned in a little closer, his breath warm against your ear as he said, "I’m sure you can. But we both know how hard it must be for a woman like you to keep up with all this... real work."

You felt your pulse quicken, the heat of anger rising in your chest. You clenched your fists, but before you could respond, a voice sliced through the air.

"Hey, Martin," Jack’s voice rang out, and you could feel the change in his tone. Gone was the casual arrogance, replaced with a low growl that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. "Get the hell away from her."

Wells blinked, taken aback by the force in Jack’s words, but he didn’t back down right away. Instead, he gave Jack a grin, clearly not understanding the situation. "What’s the matter, Thompson? Jealous?"

"Jealous?" Jack took a step forward, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "No. But I take care of my agents."

His agent?

There was a tense moment of silence, the two men locked in some unspoken standoff. You weren’t sure if you should be relieved that Jack was stepping in—or if you should be annoyed that he was making such a scene over something you could’ve handled yourself.

Finally, Wells seemed to get the message. He huffed, stepping back with an exaggerated sigh. "Alright, alright. I’m just trying to make conversation, no need to get all worked up, Thompson."

But Jack wasn’t having it. His jaw was set hard, his hands clenched at his sides, the muscles in his back taut with restraint. "If you make one more comment like that, Wells, you won’t like the consequences. Got it?"

Wells grumbled something under his breath and turned, clearly not thrilled to be called out, but at least he backed off.

After a moment, you speak up. "I don't think threatening someone from the FBI is a good idea."

Jack rolls his eyes. "I can deal with it if it comes to that."

Another moment of silence. Then-

"Thank you. For that. You didn't need to-"

Jack’s gaze softened for a moment. "It’s nothing. Don’t let that guy think he can get away with being a creep."

"Yeah," you muttered, looking away. The last thing you wanted was to admit that his gesture meant something to you—hell, you didn’t even want to acknowledge that, despite everything, it felt like he might’ve just earned a little bit of your respect. "Let's get this over with."

---

Over the following days, the dynamic between you and Jack was noticeably different. You still exchanged barbs from time to time, but there was no longer the same hostility. There was a kind of truce between you, one that neither of you acknowledged outright, but you both felt it.

Then, a week later, you were finishing up some reports at your desk when Jack showed up.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice casual but with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. "You busy?"

You glanced up from your papers. "Not really. What’s up?"

He hesitated, rocking on his heels for a moment. "Look, I know this is probably going to sound strange, but... you want to grab a drink? You know, after work. Just the two of us."

The invitation took you by surprise. Jack was offering to spend time with you outside of work? It didn’t seem like him at all.

You raised an eyebrow, studying him for a moment. "You mean like... outside of work?" you asked, skeptical.

He rolled his eyes, oh you hated when he did that. "Yeah, I know, I’m asking you to do something other than argue with me for once. But I figured we could talk. Without all the usual bickering."

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Jack Thompson, suggesting a drink. And—dare you admit it?—you found the idea... appealing. Maybe it was the way he’d apologized so genuinely. Or maybe you were just curious about what had caused the shift in his behavior.

"Alright," you said, finally relenting. "But I’m warning you now, no annoying comments. I’m only agreeing to this because I’m feeling generous."

He smirked, clearly relieved. "Of course. I wouldn’t dream of annoying you."

He walked off after that and you were left staring at the reports trying to figure out what just happened.

Of course, Peggy chooses that moment to roll her chair over to you. "Did-did Thompson just ask you out on a date? And you accepted?"

"What? No! It's not a date-"

She looked at you like you had grown another head "Right. When is getting drinks and just talking outside of work not a date?"

You opened your mouth, closed it, opened it again. "Oh my god. It is a date, isn't it?"

Then, to the surprise of you and the horror of Peggy, you smiled. "Hm."

Peggy's eyes widened as she leaned back in her chair. "You’re smiling," she said slowly, as though she were trying to comprehend the concept. "I never thought I’d see the day."

You flushed slightly, trying to fight back a small grin but failing miserably. "Shut up, Carter," you muttered, focusing your attention on the papers in front of you as if they held the answers to all the world’s problems.

You really were going on a date with Jack Thompson. The idea didn't sound that bad.

[lesbian-deadpool]

Peggy: Kudos on the childbearing, Howard.

Peggy: Let me know how the kids' therapy goes.