#slight romanogers

[janeykath318]

Mission: Marriage (Romanogers)

“You look like you got hit by a truck, Steve. What happened?”

Sam was very concerned at his friend’s face, which was a study in barely controlled emotions. He looked alternately angry, sad, and frustrated after the meeting with General Ross.

“So, here’s the deal. We’re either all going to prison for awhile, or I…….marry someone from the other team who can “keep me in check”.

“What the hell?” Sam exclaimed. “What sort of medieval crap are they trying to pull?”

“I don’t know, but I have forty-eight hours to decide,” Steve sighed, and slumped into a chair, picturing Wanda miserable in the Raft and Clint, Sam, and Scott separated from their families for years. “I already know what I have to do.”

He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.

“I know what the right thing is, but I hate having to give into them.”

Sam laid a supporting hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“You don’t have to do this, Steve. We all knew what we were risking by not signing.”

“Yeah, but the punishment falls much harder on you guys. I don’t have any family.”

“That’s not true and you know it,” Sam chided, squeezing Steve’s shoulder again. “But yeah, when there are kids involved, it really makes the decision more tough. Ross is a snake. He knows just the cards to manipulate people into doing his bidding.”

“Truth,” Steve agreed. He was very thankful that Bucky was safe in Wakanda at least, Protected from Ross and Tony.

“Do you know who the prospective spouse would be?” Sam queried.

“No,” Steve sighed. “I’m guessing they’ll tell me when I give my answer.”

“So you are gonna say yes.”

“It’s the only thing I can do in good conscience.”

Sam didn’t say anything, because as much as he hated the idea of Steve being forced into this type of marriage, he knew his friend had made the best choice he could.

Two days later, Steve gave his answer to Ross, who showed a slight touch of surprise before he went into a vacuous speech about how he was glad Steve had seen the light and yadda, yadda, yadda. Steve had to restrain himself from punching the man.

“Cut to the chase, Ross. Tell me who I’m marrying,” he ordered impatiently.

“Very well. Come in, Romanoff,” he spoke through his intercom.

No way, Steve thought in shock as Natasha entered the room. His reaction must have shown in his face, because she shot him an amused look.

“Close your mouth before something flies in, Rogers.”

Steve looked at Ross, who nodded, with a smarmy smile.

“Ms. Romanoff has agreed to the arrangement and we think she will have the best chance at handling you properly.”

Steve would have been offended at the idea of needing “handled”, but he was still a bit dazed. Married…….to Natasha……wow. He hardly noticed Ross excuse himself to take a phone call.

“Steve.exe has stopped responding,” she commented. “You’re buffering hard right now, my friend. What’s the matter? Marriage to me sounds worse than prison?”

Steve shook his head rapidly.

“No…..I just wasn’t expecting it. I was picturing some senator’s daughter or socialite and was bracing for the worst. I don’t trust Ross to find a wife I’d actually like.”

Natasha snorted.

“And you’d be right. Once I found out who his picks were and what you faced if you didn’t take it, I couldn’t let that happen. I made him see that I was the most logical choice.”

“You did that…..for me?” Steve asked. “I……don’t know what to say, Nat. That’s an incredible sacrifice to make, especially for you.”

“No more than yours is,” she told him, sitting down beside him and resting a hand on his. “You were willing to risk years of marital misery to keep our friends out of prison and their children from growing up without fathers. I couldn’t let that happen. If nothing else, you’ll be with someone you trust and who trusts you.”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. “I absolutely trust you, Nat. The couple that takes down Shield together, stays together, right?”

Nat chuckled. “Right.”

Barely a week later, Natasha showed up to the ceremony in an absolute killer blue gown that made Steve’s jaw hit the floor and explained the matching blue tie she’d given him to wear. Clint accompanied her, looking somewhat anxious. He’d talked to Steve the night before, giving the necessary shovel talk before thanking him profusely and dispensing a few words of insight about his best friend.

“I know she’s said love is for children, but I think you, of all people, might be the one to convince her otherwise. Tasha’s got a huge heart and I hope that maybe this won’t stay just an arrangement, you know. I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

Steve knew if he let himself, he could very easily fall in love with her and If Clint was right, Natasha might be more open to it than he thought.

“You clean up nice, soldier,” she told him softly with an admiring look at his new suit.

“And you look……beyond stunning. Wow.” he managed. She’d left her magnificent red hair down and it flowed in waves down her back. He’d seen her rock the femme fatale look for missions before, but this was a whole different ball game.

“I’ll take that adorably dazed look as a compliment,” she told him, wrapping her hand around his elbow. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Steve told her. With her by his side, he felt ready for anything.

[themculibrary]

Fluff Masterlist 2

part one

Action (ao3) - EmilyWeaslette mj/peter N/R, 95k

Summary: Peter stepping into the limelight, as seen through videos.

a kiss a day (anything for kate bishop) (ao3) - dare121 yelena/kate T, 49k

Summary: Adjusting her fake glasses, Kate moves in the direction of the nearest painting and settles herself in front of it, doing her best to look like she’s taking notes on the notepad in her hands. The lanyard around her neck swings uncomfortably close to the rope that separates herself from the art on display as she tries to take in her surroundings at the same time. She only spares a glance at the picture, and squints at the three alien creatures on it that mostly resemble common house cats, while being just off enough to unnerve the observer.

have a seat, dad (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor harley/peter G, 1k

Summary: Peter tells Tony that he's going to be a grandpa.

Hello Midtown High (ao3) - AmyR G, 20k

Summary: This is basically domestic Avengers and Peter Parker, with a slight smattering of the Field Trip trope thrown in. It's really just domestic Avengers though.

History's Gayer Than You Think (Or So MJ Says) (ao3) - lattely (orphan_account) steve/bucky T, 4k

Summary: Peter Parker has never witnessed a proposal. Until one day, he finds himself inches away from history building itself with the help of a ring box, when all he was up for was watching a movie.

just know you're not alone (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor tony/sam T, 10k

Summary: Tony was settling into his new life being an Avenger. Everything was going fine, great even, and then suddenly a kid was thrown into the picture. Peter Parker becomes Tony’s world, and he’s doing everything he can to keep his son out of the spotlight. Unfortunately, some things don’t always go to plan. But would it really be such a bad thing if his fellow Avengers found out about his son?

Kissblocked! (ao3) - impravidus harley/peter G, 4k

Summary: 5 times harley was interrupted trying to kiss peter for the first time and the 1 time he wasn't (and was)

NOT Just Married (ao3) - relenafanel steve/bucky M, 7k

Summary: Also known as the feel-good fluffy ficlet relenafanel promised after the end-credit scene of new Bucky feels from hell... Because I have your back and know you need recovery comedic AUs about BFFs being dumb in Vegas.

perfectly right wrong number (ao3) - melonbutterfly steve/bucky T, 31k

Summary: It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

Peter Parker's Home for the Wayward Villain (ao3) - BeanieBaby peter/wade, steve/bucky, pepper/tony T, 90k

Summary: A really long redemption story.

research and disaster (ao3) - blueh T, 9k

Summary: the interns at Stark Industries have some questions about Peter Parker. The answers aren’t quite what they expect.

Say You Don't Know Me (or Recognize My Face) (ao3) - ShowMeAHero matt/foggy G, 2k

Summary: Daredevil is kind of dark and broody. He doesn't want anyone to know his real name, he never smiles, and he has kind of a loner attitude.

Matt Murdock, on the other hand, is completely unrecognizable to Jessica the first time she really sees him.

The Great Disney Marathon (ao3) - MisguidedFeelingsofaDreamWeaver30 steve/natasha, scott/hope, gamora/peter, pepper/tony T, 26k

Summary: The Avengers embark on a mission: The Great Disney Marathon. As they watch, they find themselves comparing their lives to the animated stories onscreen.

Inspired by the many parallels between Marvel and Disney.

Prompts filled: Domestic Avengers, Romanogers, Peter Parker, Tony Stark

The Less You Know (ao3) - Nokomis G, 3k

Summary: Peter comes to regret telling the Avengers about the Captain America PSAs.

This Wasn't What the Brochure Promised (ao3) - kahn steve/tony T, 7k

Summary: "Do you think this is still a training exercise, or did we just get our asses handed to us by actual bad guys?" asked Clint.

Tony, Steve, Clint and Bruce spend quality time together in a cave. Tony does not build another arc reactor (even if he sort of needs one). Steve is all Protective Leader. Clint is terrifyingly good with a knife. Bruce bleeds and snarks. There is banter and embarassing amounts of schmoop and the boys get very touchy-feely.

Three Men in a VW (ao3) - Brokenpitchpipe steve/bucky T, 3k

Summary: Steve steps back into the car and closes the door, lips still tingling.

“You don’t like blondes,” Bucky says.

Sam chokes.

who's the kid? (ao3) - haveufoundwhaturlookingfor N/R, 2k

Summary: The Avengers arrive back at the tower after everything that's happened with the Sokovia Accords. They expect everything to be the same, but it's not. Now there's a kid living at the tower and the Avengers think he's more than just Tony's "personal assistant". Natasha and Wanda are determined to find out the truth.

[pitbull-luva]

She was like the moon...

[gaitwae]

My Beauty [|] Loki x Reader

Warnings: Insecurity and slight body dysmorphia, female reader, swimming pool.

Request/summary: The reader is slowly learning to accept herself. 

Requested by: @xladyxfatex ​

You walked to the pool with Natasha and Wanda. They were sitting in their bikinis, soaking up the sun and laughing about the men and your recent hang-out. You felt nervous. You knew you had nothing to worry about with Nat and Wanda, but... Well, it was hard to really have fun at a pool if you were supposed to be... immodest. You looked bad enough as it was.

You knew it was silly, deep down. These were people you could trust. You were in a baggy T-shirt and jean shorts. There was nothing to be scared of. Right?

“C’mon, Y/N,” Wanda giggled. “Go under! You’ll feel better once you’re entirely under.”

You were unsure, but you swallowed and nodded. “Okay. Okay, I got it.” You took a deep breath and slipped into the pool, making sure you were as close to the edge as possible. You had come out later than the others just to make sure you could scope out who might have been there to see you. But you stopped, right there, at thigh-deep water.

Out from the depths, Loki popped his head up. Your heart swung. “Surely you’d want to soak,” he reasoned, a crooked smile gracing his face. “It’s much too hot to stand there in the sun!”

“But... But, I can’t,” you said. It was a poor excuse. It wasn’t even an excuse. “I can’t.”

Loki glided to you and grabbed your hand. You gulped. “Oh, yes, you can. You absolutely can, my beauty.” 

The name stung. You couldn’t beautiful. Not when you looked like... you. “Loki,” you sighed. “Will you stay with me?”

“I will,” he promised, stroking your arm and kissing your fingers. “Come, take those shorts off. Let’s swim. You have your bathing suit under, yes?”

“It’s a one piece,” you confirmed with a mumble. You took his hands and squeezed them. He held you at a close distance as you went all the way in. The cool water felt nice. 

“That shirt’s okay, yeah? You’re looking absolutely stunning today,” he told you. “You’re gaining more confidence; it makes you radiant.”

“Really?” you smiled shyly. “Even though I don’t look as good as the other girls?”

“You’re equal,” Loki said. “But you’re my favorite brand of beautiful.”

Tag List: @make-me-imagine​ @bwemph​ @myraiswack​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @loki-snape-our-hero​ @wolfish-trickster​ @lucywrites02​ @mostly-marvel-musings​ @winterfrostsarmy​ @superheroesandstardust​ @castiels-majestic-wings​ @geekns​ @natandersonnla​ @cozy-the-overlord​ @megthemewlingquim​ @whatafuckingdumbass​ @thebookbakery​ @delightfulheartdream​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @the-emo-asgardian​ @itscomplicatedx​ @electroma89​ @sophlubbwriting​ @darkacademicfrom2021​ @lilyofthesword​ @xlehukax​ @joucebox​ @high-functioning-lokipath​ @lokislittlesigyn​ @kingix-the-confused-earthling​ @nilavey​ @superfangirl-romanogers​ @funsized-mimi​ @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson​ @marvelouslovely​ @thewindandthewolves​ @moumouton4​ @theaudacitytowrite​

[skyfallslayer]

Maybe I Will (Not) See You Tomorrow

(Part 1 of The Captain, The Soldier, The In Between Series)

SERIES MASTERLIST

Main Masterlist

Summary: An old forgotten photograph leads to some bittersweet memories for Steve and Bucky.

(Post Endgame; Pre FFH and TV Shows, except everyone is alive in this AU)

Rating: Teen and Up

Pairings: Bucky x Rogers!OFC; Platonic Steve x Rogers!OFC; Hints of Steggy & Romanogers

Warning: Angst; Mentions/References to death; Mentions/References to sex; Period Typical Sexism implied; Alcohol; Scenes that could be seen as slight depression.

This also features Soft!Bucky, and he may seem (And Steve too) ooc. Just a heads up.

Author's Note: Let me know if I missed anything. This can also be read as Y/N if you like. I do NOT own anything Marvel related, nor the gifs that are in this picture. Just the story plot and my OC. Enjoy!

The cool spring air wisped through the Captain’s hair as he took in the last bit of the sunset from his room’s balcony. The sky was a beautiful orange and gold, and it reflected off the lake the HQ was right up against. It calms his nerves when times get tough, and it even would sometimes get him a spark of creativity for drawing. But that wasn’t the case for tonight. Tonight was just him wanting to take a deep breath and enjoy the peace.

He was so deep into a trance that he almost missed the sound of someone coming into his room.

Almost.

“I thought you would be out there in the lounge with everyone?” Bucky said, coming in with a six pack.

“Nah, not in the mood to watch a movie tonight.” Steve replies, glancing backwards as his friend stood in the balcony door frame. “How about you? What’s your excuse?”

“Same as yours.” He hands his friend a new beer bottle, seeing that the one Steve grabbed earlier was already empty. “Plus, Clint wants to watch Hunger Games again.”

Steve smirks and takes it. “It’s probably because of the bow and arrow.”

“See! That’s what I keep saying, and everyone looks like I’m crazy.”

He chuckles, holding up his drink. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They clink their bottles together and take a sip, the beer was only good enough for the taste since neither of them could get drunk (which was a con in their eyes sometimes). The two of them stayed quiet as the sun was finally disappearing over the horizon, and the cool breeze turned colder, and the outside light on the wall turned on brightly, shining on their semi-exhausted faces.

It’s been a long couple months since the reverse snap, and with the base finally rebuilt the team took this time to reconnect and get well deserved rest when they had the chance. Whether it was sleeping in, watching a movie, or relaxing by the lake, they all made sure not to go into overdrive until the next mission.

The breeze blew again, stronger than the last time, making Bucky reach up and brush his newly cut bangs away from his face. He finally made the game changing decision by cutting his hair, similar to his style in the 40s, something he’s secretly proud of doing. Yet another breeze causes his attention to go elsewhere, diverting it to his surroundings.

Soon, his navy eyes catch something on his exploring, then gestures it with his drink. “What’s that?” He asked, pointing to a large box he saw through the transparent sliding door.

Steve followed his gaze, deflating a little. “Oh, that? A government official dropped it off yesterday, saying it was in storage from my time in the war.”

“Really?” He says surprised, while getting a nod. “Then how come you’re getting it now? The last time I checked you didn’t come out of the ice yesterday.”

“Well… I mean when I did come out of the ice they weren’t sure if they could trust me yet. Then there was the whole thing with SHIELD and HYDRA, then there was Ultron and the Sokovian accords, and the-”

“Okay, okay. I think I get it.”

“So… yeah. I haven’t opened it yet.”

“I can see that.” Bucky continues, before getting an idea. “Oooh. What if your old stage uniform is in there?”

Steve gives him a look. “Bucky-”

“Come on, we have nothing else to do. I’m curious.” He raises an eyebrow. “Aren’t you?”

The blond pursed his lips, before giving into the mischievous glint of his best friend. “Alright. You win.”

Bucky kept his expression as he set his bottle down and walked inside, all while Steve waited patiently on the outside couch. Soon the box was placed on the table, the lid coming off in a flash. The smirk on the brunette’s face grew a bit more as he snorted at his finding.

“Oh, god. No…” Steve said, wanting to crawl under a rock forever.

“Oh, yes.” Bucky said, pulling out the infamous first suit of America’s hero, the one with the flashy tri-colors. He examines it closely, remembering just like it was on the flyers that hung around town. “Damn, Rogers. I can’t believe you wore this.”

“Neither can I.” He said, before digging inside himself, letting the domino effect happen.

It was definitely a trip down memory lane to say the least. There were metals and awards that he had won over the years for his service. Old newspapers from the day he tested out his newfound abilities, the one in black and white, and he was holding onto a detached car door. The flag he snagged from the top of the pole. Some maps he drew on for war plans and so much more.

There were also photos tucked inside too.

Lots of photos. Which was honestly the most bittersweet part of the journey. The items dug deep and struck all the different cords hidden away. Something that both of them haven’t experienced in a long time.

“We really outlived these people.” Bucky said, after looking over the Howling Commandos photograph. It was one just after Steve had banded them together. All dressed neatly in their uniforms before they headed back out into the field.

Dum Dum. Jim. James. Gabe. Jacques. Happy Sam. Pinky. Junior.

All good men. Now they have fallen either in the war or with age. It was something that saddened both of them very much. Outliving a friend while they still look physically in their late 20s, early 30s hit deeply.

“Well, we are a hundred years old, Buck.” Steve said, sarcasm strong, but there is still a hint of amusement.

“105 and six to be exact. And looking damn good, too.” Bucky says, smiling as he shuffles to the next one. A familiar woman with lips the color of cherries. “Ah, it's the Great-Aunt of the Niece you kissed under the bridge.”

Steve bit his tongue, shaking his head. “You really love torturing me today, huh, Barnes?”

Bucky hums, tilting his head at Peggy next to his friend. A bit of sorrow washed over at him as he glanced away. “I’ll say this again, I’m surprised you didn’t go back to her.”

Steve stares off too, feeling the same way but for a different reason. “I did. For a dance I owed her.” He sighs quietly. “I realize it would be weird if I just stayed knowing what would happen in history, and not being able to do anything about it. Plus-” He looks at the other soldier, lips curling up a little. “I’ve made too many friends to just leave them all behind.”

The brunette returns the expression, pleased that he’s finally got a clear answer after so long. “Til’ the end of the line, right?”

“Til’ the end of the line.” Cap repeats, grabbing his drink again for a sip.

Bucky hums again, the mischievous look returning for a split second. “At least you have that red head you can look forward to.”

That comment made Steve choke on his drink, beer dripping off his chin and bottle as he started coughing. Bucky continues with his look, as the blond man gives his chests a few pats until he’s simmered down the fit.

“Buck, what the hell?” Steve manages to croak, as he wipes his jaw clean with the back of his hand.

He holds his hands up in defense. “Hey, I only speak the truth, pal. I’ve seen the way you look at her.” Bucky replies, earning a glare.

“We’re just friends.”

He rolls his eyes. “Friends? Yeah, right. Friends my ass, Steve.”

Steve waves him off. “Okay, whatever you say, man. Can we just move onto the next picture?”

“Sure, sure. Will do.” The soldier flips to the next one, and this time was a picture of Captain America next to Howard Stark, looking like they were planning something together. “Huh... Another love interest.”

“Alright, Bucky.” Steve says, smacking him with the couch throw pillow, making him burst into a fit of laughter.

“Hang on, Stevie. Let's see the next one.”

“I swear, if it’s another person…”

And it was.

Except this one made them both become like a deer in a headlight.

Their surroundings grew mute, minus the tiny sounds of the crickets below, and the sound of the television down the hall.

It was a bit eerie.

A bit uncomfortable.

This was a person that hasn’t crossed their minds in a while.

Three figures cased in black and white, dressed in uniforms that weren’t quite military, but it was their own style.

Two blonds and a brunette.

One navy colored eyes that could be compared to an ocean view.

A set of eyes like the sky, and even had a dash of everforest green.

And orbs that were a mixture of cocoa and chestnut with a swirl of honey.

Standing in what appeared to be a mechanic’s garage, the person in the middle wore his stars and stripes proudly; On his right with a five o’clock shadow, and button up in blue and with a cocky grin; On his left was a woman in a jumper, copying the Captain’s smile as she leaned against an oversized mechanical leg.

Anyone could see the pure joy radiating off the picture, which is why it made these two friend’s hurt so much inside. Because they certainly weren’t feeling that way right now.

They stayed hushed for a long time, trying to stay strong for one another. But even these super soldiers needed a chance to break down to a certain low level.

“I haven’t thought about her in a while.” Bucky said, just above a whisper. His voice is soft and -tries to be- comforting to ease away the trembling before it even starts.

“Yeah… me neither.” Steve says, slowly holding onto the picture as well, taking her in. There was a spark of happiness in his features. A spark, but it was there. “I remember when this was taken. It was right after we started going after all the HYDRA bases. I think Howard took this one.”

“I think you’re right. See-” He points to a corner of the photo. “He always had at least one figure in front of the lens.”

Steve chuckles dryly. “I remember that now.” He tilts his head, studying it some more. “I think this was in the base’s garage, right?”

“Yep. Stark helped build that giant robot for her.” Bucky points to the metal leg in the picture. “What was it called again? The HYDRA Stomper?”

Steve pinches his eyebrows together. “I thought it was Crusher?”

“No, it was Stomper.”

“I don’t think so.”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to pinch his brows. “What are you talking about? She flew around and stepped on anything that was the enemy. Where are you getting Crusher from?”

“Because, you can-” He makes a smushing motion with his hands. “Crush things with your feet too.”

“Oh my god…” The brunette shakes her head. “You don’t even know your own sister’s name.”

Steve’s grip on the photo immediately tightened, and his eyes fell over with a shadow. This whole conversation just did a 360.

Bucky’s whole face falls. Guilt hitting him like a truck. Regretting the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. His body starts to slack, as he immediately wraps an arm around his friend’s body, pulling him close. He hears the blond man taking a shaky breath, letting the world grow silent again.

The picture finds itself resting on their thighs, like it was too hot to touch and would burn away their flesh if they held onto it for any longer.

Or maybe the memory was just too painful to hold onto?

“Sorry, man.” Bucky finally said, gently, afraid of stepping over a line again. He feels the man leaning into the touch, starving for some warmth. Hungry for some love and solace.

This kind of reminded him of the time after Sarah died. The neediness he needed without saying a single word. A look was all it took for Bucky to be there for him.

He felt Steve shake his head, dismissing his apology that he didn’t owe.

“It’s okay. It’s just-” Steve begins, sighing. “I promised her I would come back.” He felt his friend’s arm give him a pleasant squeeze, telling him it’s all right. “On the race to the plane, she got hurt and hitched a ride with Peggy and Colonel Philps. I remember we took each other's hands, and she asked me to be careful.”

He chuckles quietly, and continues. “I told her I’d come back, and left. If she wasn’t injured, I think she would have gone with me. Probably freeze together. But nothing hurt worse when she came on the radio in those last few moments.”

Bucky’s eyes fall onto the woman again, heart hurting all over again. “Did she cry?” He asked, mouth feeling dry.

Steve’s frowns deepen, his eyes also falling back onto the picture. “Of course she did. You know how she is.”

Blue eyes casted a glance, worriedness building up immensely. “Would you have been okay if she came with you?”

“Maybe…” He fiddles with his hands. “I don’t know.” Cap meets his stare, confliction and confusion on his face. “Is that a horrible thing to say?”

“Steve, she’s your sister. Your twin. It’s okay to have conflicting thoughts. Especially the life with both lived, it’s bound to happen.” Bucky’s face softened a little, but the sadness was still there as he picked the delicate item back up, making a point. “And there’s pros and cons either way. If she stayed back there, and if she came with you-”

He shrugs and continues. “Who knows. She could have been just living her life in the modern day, or become an Avenger with her face plastered around the world. Nobody knows what could have happened.”

Steve lets that sink in, a bit of weight was lifted from his shoulders, only to be weighed down seconds later by underground anger. “Do you think she would’ve been recognized if she had come with me?”

Puzzled by his words, Bucky shifted in his spot to look at the blond better. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He shifts too, back resting against the arm rest as his friend sets the photo down again. Bucky listens carefully, picking up the glimpse of bitterness he saw in Steve’s posture.

The blond weighs on how he was going to phrase this, thinking slowly before creeping up on an idea. "Before I found out you were still alive, I went to the Smithsonian, curious about what people had thought of me. It took me about… a few hours to see everything, and… I just remember being so angry at the end."

The hurting tone had returned, and Steve tried to swallow it before speaking, "It was like… she didn't exist. My sister… just gone. Not even her name was mentioned once. I even looked to see if maybe they had put up her fake last name, 'Kingsman', but there was nothing. It was like they didn't want anybody to know that the giant robot was driven by a woman."

Now Bucky understood what he meant. Now he understood the anger his best friend had, which just added to a long list of why Steve Rogers was skeptical at everything government related. It reminded him that they were trying to erase an important part of Captain America’s life. No wonder he always declined trips to the museum when it was suggested by their teammates.

His eyes fall far away again, his mind wandering off too as he starts to regain some hidden emotions buried deep inside.

“You know, I always hated that exhibit too." Bucky begins, getting Steve's attention. "After I pulled you out of the water, I went there trying to remember everything. Even before I got my memories back, I always hated it for some reason, and it took me a long time to know why." He exhales, recalling something else. "It's on display, but do you remember when that film crew took a video of us laughing?"

Steve nods slowly, a tiny smile ghosting his lips. "Of course. You made some corny joke about sleeping on the ground again. You had us all dying from it."

Bucky copies his expression with a small chuckle. "Yeah, that day." Then it falls flat again. "When I was in Romania it just hit me when I was roaming around. I realized… they edited her out." A knife to the heart for the both of them. "I think… that was the first time I cried since our fight on the helicarrier."

Steve hums at his tale, taking in each and every word he spoke. "That war really fucked everything up for us, hasn't it?"

"Sure fucking did."

Silence overtook again, a very long one this time as they zoned out to be trapped in their own minds. But as the alarm clock inside glowed a late hour, and the crickets seemed to start to grow quieter, Bucky couldn't have missed the whisper of laughter and smile from his friend.

Cocking his head, amuse by the sight change, he asked, "What? Did you remember something happy?"

Still smiling, he nods for the millionth time tonight. "I did." Steve begins, meeting his eyes once more. "We were on a tour for the musical, and I remember about the third time I put the stupid costume on, she said 'You should've stayed home, Stevie. This get-up is probably not what you imagine you'd be wearing for war'."

This made Bucky burst out laughing at Steve's poor attempt at sounding like a girl.

"R-Really?" Bucky said, trying to calm himself. "J-Just like that? And in that voice?"

"Of course! How else is it supposed to sound like?"

"Uh… not like you're strangling a cat? Geez…" He scratches his stubble, before snapping his fingers at a memory. "Oh! You remember in the fifth grade, and that punk Tommy Scotts tugged on her pigtails, and before you could confront him she turned around and gave him a shift kick between the legs?"

Steve snorted, that image was still fresh in his mind. "I remember. She was worshipped like a God for the rest of the school year. Kids were bending over backwards for her."

"Oh, yeah. Some were willing to do her homework if it meant she kept Scotts away."

Bucky reaches for his half drunk beer, with a dorky look on his face. It kind of reminded Steve of a love struck puppy. It was a look he hasn’t seen since the army.

"Can I ask you something that's been on my mind for a long time?" Steve asked, watching him shake his head 'yes' as he brought the bottle to his lips. Like the troll the blond could be sometimes, he says, "Did you sleep with her?"

Karma was definitely a bitch, and this time Bucky was the one choking on amber liquid, the contents making a waterfall to the deck's flooring.

It took the man a second for it to fully register again, and finally, with a look of betrayal, he replies with, "You ass. You waited until I took a sip."

The Captain shrugs. "Maybe."

Bucky sighs. "Steve, why would you-"

"Buck, I don't care if you did, I just wanted to hear it from you. Was it a one time thing?"

His face got hot, and his ears started to burn which made his words slur next. "Well… n-no. It was… I mean w-we did it more th-than once… I mean…” He shakes his head, debating on if he should just jump off the balcony and make a run for it. “W-Why are you asking?"

“Because you loved her.” Steve gave him the most obvious look ever after he tried to deny it. "Bucky, I saw how you looked at her. That was not a look a friend gives another."

Bucky purses his lips, trying to hide his red face (He’ll just keep lying to himself and say it’s the alcohol). “You’re just twisting my words from earlier…”

“Maybe…”

He raises an eyebrow, noticing the look. “Wait… did you know?” Bucky gets a nod as confirmation. “Since when?”

“I started to really notice around highschool.” Steve said, nonchalantly.

“And you never said anything?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “It wasn’t my place.”

Bucky’s tensed shoulders fall, a bit worried though. What if he disapproves? “Steve-”

“She told me everything after you fell from the train.” Steve begins, and makes sure he’s listening before continuing on. “She cried for you and it wasn’t like the time a friend of hers died in highschool from pneumonia, it was different.”

Steve could still picture it till this day, and it both hurts yet brings a bit of joy to it all (in a non-morbid way of course). He finishes it with, “She said she loved you, but I already knew that.”

Bucky went quiet, both hands clasped around the bottle as he weighed in his thoughts. They never actually got the chance to say it to one another, especially during their time in the army, so hearing what she actually said indirectly strikes a lot of different places.

He shifts in his seat, deciding to reveal a bit of a secret.

“I was going to marry her, Steve.” He replies, the knot in his stomach loosening and tightening. He felt his friend’s eyes on him again, gentle like last time. “I had a ring picked out, it was.... Small and gold with a… a butterfly. When I scrunched up enough cash, I bought it. Left it with my older sister at home until the time was right. Originally it was going to be the night I’d left, but I couldn’t do it. Too scared of making an empty promise. Too scared to… ‘widow’ her before we even got married. It’s stupid… isn’t it?”

“No. Not even close, Buck.” Steve said, patting him on the back. His hand lingered on his shoulder afterwards for comfort. “I think it was smart to think about the situation beforehand. You did good on that part.” He smiles. “And she would have loved that ring. You even remembered she likes butterflies like a good ‘husband’ you could’ve been.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nah. Anybody close to her could remember that.”

“That’s the thing, Bucky. She had a lot of friends, and besides me, you were the only one that remembers the small details. That’s why I consider you my best friend, and I think she would too. Trust me on that.”

He hums, finally glancing back over. “Would’ve you given me your blessing?”

Steve looks a bit taken back, but he shouldn’t be surprised how considerate he was being. “Of course. You’d be the one person I know that’ll take good care of her.” He grins, patting him on the back again. “Plus, having my best friend as my brother-in-law would be pretty great.”

That got Bucky to copy the grin. “Yeah, that would be.” He said, shifting the bottle into one hand, raising it slightly. “To a sister.”

Bittersweetness came back, but the Captain still reached over to pick up his drink again, doing the same. “To a lover.”

“To Jayden Rogers.”

“To Jayden Rogers.”

They clinked their bottles for a second time tonight, the beer tasting a little flat but they didn't mind as they took in the warm and cold atmosphere. Time went by smoothly, silently, but that was alright with them.

The gentle breeze brushed against the photos, and Bucky’s attention went back to the garage one, recalling another distant memory that makes him want to relive it all over again.

“Hey.” He says, getting Steve to look over, a smile plastered onto his face. “Do you remember when we first met?”

(Part 2 )

Taglist: @fangirllife98 @ginger-swag-rapunzel

[roaminginspiration]

Pas De Deux

New romanogers fic. Regency AU (think Marvel characters meet Bridgerton). Likes and comments are so appreciated.

All of the other chapers are available on AO3 — please leave kudos and comments

Chapter 1 

The moon shone high in the cool evening, as the wind blew swiftly across the Scottish trees.

The main street was still busy with the comings and goings of carriages and pedestrians still wrapped in their long jackets despite the start of the spring season.

The street further South the town centre was absolutely quiet, though. The local theatre was not as frequented as the primary one that stood proudly in the heart of the city.

Most of the lights inside had been turned off, except for the ones along the hall that led straight to the main room. The air smelt of burning wax and the lingering dust garnered under the seats, and other concealed areas where the cleaner had not bothered to commit fully.

The small orchestra had long been dismissed but it didn’t stop the prima ballerina of the venue to rehearse on stage. She swirled, glided, jumped across the stage with the notes of the symphony playing in her head without fault. She knew the entire soundtrack by heart and didn’t need actual music to immerse herself in the exercise. The wooden floor creaked under her, as always, and she didn’t allow it to pull her out of character.

She stood still in the corner of the stage and took a deep breath. It was the climax, the moment when all the instruments would collide and blend together as one sound. It was when her character, lost in the woods, attempts to escape the sorcerer’s spell.

She sprang forward, one, two, three brisk steps until she leapt high across, her toned legs beautifully splitting apart in the air. Next, she landed on the floor and her heel hit the floor.

She let out a groan of frustration. The long day, on top of the late hour, was beginning to strain. Her breathing, heavier than normal, also indicated her body needed a rest.

She was determined to practise again, though. The sound of the main door opening with its familiar screech caught her attention.

She frowned and walked over to the side, grabbed a towel and wiped it over her sweaty forehead, pulling the red locks of her hair that had fallen loose out of her face in the process.

The silhouette walking in the dim light became clearer as it stepped into the main alley. A slight rush of anger rose at the pit of her stomach and she furrowed her brows in response.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” she commented coolly before walking back to her belongings to pick them up. The visitor walked up closer to the stage, her heavy and velvety dress sweeping elegantly across the worn parquet. “I thought you said you would never step a foot in this forsaken place,” she continued.

“I have not come here to argue with you, Natasha,” the woman answered collectedly.

A smirk came to Natasha’s lips as she turned to face the visitor. Her gaze lingered on her fair and smooth skin hardly affected by the passing of time, her almond-shaped dark brown eyes and her beautiful silky hazel hair nicely wrapped in an intricate updo. In truth, she looked as beautiful and regal as the last time she had seen her eleven months ago.

“Then, what are you here for Melina?” she asked. She received a reproachful frown in response.

“I am still your mother, Natasha, whether you like it or not. You owe me respect.”

Natasha swallowed a sigh and came down the stage to face her matriarch.

“My apologies,” she answered in Russian with the shadow of an ironic grin. “I suppose one loses all manners when shunned from one own’s family.”

The woman cleared her throat, one of her most distinct signs of reprobation.

“I would personally blame your lack of manner on your new…work environment and the company that comes with it,” she slurred the word ‘work’ like it was an insult. Becoming a ballet dancer, and so far from the family estate, was the definition of dishonour. It easily beat the scandal of an elopement and being with child outside marriage in London society. Melina looked around the forlorn-looking theatre with unconcealed judgment then down at her flimsy apparel. “The entirety of this place reeks of depravity.”

“Mother!” Natasha exclaimed, throwing the towel on the nearest seat at the exasperation of a familiar argument. “I am a dancer. I love it…I breathe for it. Why can’t you be happy for me?”  

“People talk. A dancer? They might as well call you a harlot. If anyone actually discovered the reason of your absence, your reputation would be forever lost.”

Ten months ago, a month after Natasha had made the decision to pursue her dreams of becoming one day London’s Prima Ballerina, and was consequently scorned by her father — with the silent approval of Melina, and ended up in Scotland instead, she received one final letter from her mother clearly stipulating that she does not use her family name to build her dancing career on. She had insisted it were her father’s requirements if she did not want to face his most Russian wrath. She also added, after a long tirade of how she had almost brought the entire family name and its noble heritage to disrepute, that in the estate and London, and for anyone who would ask, it would be said that she had gone to study Arts across Europe for an indeterminate period of time.  

Natasha rolled her eyes. “Maybe it is time that the noble society mentality changes. A woman should be able to embrace any endeavour that she deems fit.”

“Oh, my sweet child,” Melina answered as she brushed her thumb across her daughter’s cheekbone. “I admire your spirit, I really do, but those are thoughts and pursuits of the other sex. If you were a man, everyone who admire your courage and determination. As a woman, you are looked down as reckless and a danger to the sturdy and unbreakable foundations of our society.”

Natasha looked deep into her mother’s eyes, finding for the first time in the longest time, compassion, and perhaps a dash of admiration.

But it only lasted a moment.

“You have already considerably jeopardised your chances of favourable marriage — if one at all.”

She grunted and pulled her face away from her mother’s cupped hand. “You will not find a good match now that you have left the family house unchaperoned and to work. No respectable man will suffer the indignity of the situation, let alone agree to matrimony.”

Natasha swiftly shoved her belongings in the bag as she endured Melina’s speech on marriage, the only one that was more insufferable than the dishonour one.

“Go home, mother,” she said, her back turned to her. “I am not sure I understand why you travelled all the way here to remind me that I am a doomed woman with no future. You know I couldn’t care less about finding a husband.”

She pictured all those annoyingly lords standing stiffly at balls as they surveyed the girls of the season like a buyer would gauge merchandise.

“Then maybe you will care about your sister’s future,” Melina spoke.

Natasha paused. Hearing about her sister was the only thing that made her family salvageable. She turned around to face her mother.

“What about her?” she asked.

Melina concealed a small grin of victory.

“Yelena will be joining the social season for the first and hearsay is that she could very much be the favourite debutante. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you what it means. She could marry up and greatly improve the family’s standing in London.”

The Romanoff family earned its nobility from its Russian-based lineage, but despite the fact her father Alexei had the baron title and a decent estate, it still suffered finances and relations constraints (due to the latter). If Yelena could get a good match, it would benefit and secure her family’s position in London society.

Natasha hated the idea that such responsibility lay on her young sister’s shoulders. It normally would have fallen on her hadn’t she brought chaos and doom over her heritage because of a ‘fancy pastime’.

“So you came all the way here to ask me to keep away from London?”

“Quite the contrary. Yelena cannot start the season without her older sister being around. This would look highly suspicious and could potentially ruin the chances of a good match. People will wonder why you aren’t being part of such a major family affair.”

She crossed her arms. “I can’t go back to London and give up the troupe.”

Melina grinned sheepishly. “Aren’t you the understudy?” she asked.

Natasha shot her a cold look. “Thanks, mother.”

“I meant no offence,” she assured.

“I was the understudy in the main theatre troupe, but not anymore. I dance here every evening.”

Melina pressed her pam against her forehead like she was going faint. The thought of her daughter displaying herself to an audience of voracious men with undoubtedly lusty thoughts and intents and married women internally thanking God for saving them from such a fate made her dizzy. The idea her entire would collapse on this dirty floor kept her standing, however.

“Can’t you take a holiday for the season, tell them you will return in a couple of months? You could even leave earlier, as soon as the wedding is arranged.”

“What’s in it for me?” Natasha asked. “Balls and other social events are so mundane.”

Melina frowned, although she expected no less from this conversation. She, in fact, came up with a very good bargain on her way to Edinburgh.

“You will be free to commit to her dancing career. No more interference from us.”

Natasha snorted. “Please, I don’t hear from you at all already. It’s hardly a good bargain for me.”

“We will give you our blessing, our monetary one at least, and you will be free to visit as often as you wish.”

“I want to hear Father give me his blessing in person,” Natasha said.

That was huge and bold. Bigger and bolder than the stain on the velvet curtain on the stage.

“Oh dear,” Melina hyperventilated. She feared her brazen daughter would come on this condition. Thankfully, she had an entire season to make Alexei cave.

“Deal,” she said.

Natasha smiled triumphantly. The prospect of such a victory made the thought of a strenuous picnic at Lady Montgomery sound oh so delightful.

“I will speak to the director,” Natasha answered and put her coat on. “I suppose you have already sorted the accommodation.”

“Lizzie is standing right outside and Roger is waiting for the carriage.”

“I should be able to depart tomorrow in the early afternoon.”

Melina nodded with unconcealed satisfaction. “I will send Lizzie for you.”

Natasha made her way towards the exit then turned around. “Just so we’re clear, I am mostly doing this for Yelena. She deserves the best and I would hate the idea that I somehow stood in the way to her happiness.”    

“I know, dear. I promise you will not regret your trip to London.”

Natasha sort of shrugged nonchalantly and made her way up the alley.

Melina’s entire plan for the family’s success to be complete, of course, was to cling to the hope that her older daughter would find a match that would bring her back to reason.

She would certainly do everything in her power to lock two weddings in the same season.

________________________________________________

At Starbrook Manor, Steve was sorting out the many documents, letters and other paperwork that had piled up over the past weeks. He next folded a missive he had just written, poured the war and stamped the family crest seal on it. As the liquid turned solid, he looked intently at the symbol he had just embossed, pulled into unsolicited reverie.

A knock on the door brought him back to reality, much to his relief, and he smiled at the sight of his mother approaching with a loving smile.

She stood behind him and kissed the top of his head.

“You have been so diligent at sorting out all this paperwork. You picked up on the many businesses with astounding ease and efficiency. Your father would be proud,” Sarah spoke softly. “I know how difficult it must have been to take on all these responsibilities so soon after Joseph passed away.”    

Steve had been called from America soon after his father had fallen seriously ill. By the time he arrived in England, the physicist informed him it was only a matter of hours before the Earl would pass. He spent the evening, then the night by his bedside, holding his father’s hand between his palms until his grip turned completely loose.

Earl Joseph Rogers was feverish for most of the time, but when he gained enough consciousness to recognise his only son sitting in the room, he asked him to look after her mother and the family business. He didn’t ask for any promise for he knew his son well enough to know he would dedicate himself entirely to the task and never disappoint. This was how the Earl departed the world peacefully.

Steve did not return to America after that. He had spent the last five years there pursuing personal endeavours, all of which he put aside to commit to his new role. He sorted out shipment and other business all the way from Starbrook Manor. He had been spending the last few weeks travelling back and forth between the estate and Whitmore Residence in London when he was needed in town for business meetings and other formalities.

Sitting in his father’s study, sealing documents with his stamp, signing the letters with his title…these were all strange things he had not wrapped his mind around yet.

“I do not wish for you to worry about anything, mother. Leave it all to my supervision.”

Sarah smiled as she looked at her only son. She had been unfortunate to miscarry two children, one of which should have been Steve’s old brother. But in this ordeal, God had graced her with the best son a mother could hope for.

“I am so fortunate, you know? The other ladies tell me how they wish their son were more like you, sensible and devoted, kind-hearted and fair.” She paused and smiled, “While the mamas fervently hope you will choose their daughter this season.”

Steve got up from the chair, brushed his hand on her shoulder and slowly walked over to the window.

“I know that a good marriage is important to you and will determine the good future of the family. I shall not disappoint you.”

He looked down musingly at the jasmine flowers standing in rows in the soil as the landscaper was watering them.

Sarah came by his side and pressed a hand on his shoulder. “I know it must appear cruel of me that I expect you to marry now, when you probably have other aspirations, but I believe it is what we all need to ensure stability. Remember you are the Earl now, you need a Countess on whom you can rely and who can bring harmony and honour.”

He watched as the gardener knelt down, inspected one of the flowers and cut it at the base with a sweeping and cold motion. It felt like witnessing his hope of a genuine romance be yanked out of his life.

He took a short breath in and averted his gaze from the window. He turned to his mother and smiled.

“I promise I shall bring home a Countess worthy of your respect and affection. Someone who inspires prestige and excellence.”

As certain as it was that he would devote himself to serving her and making her happy the very moment she would become his wife, he didn’t know if his heart would learn to love her as well.

Hopefully, with time, he would.

[smol-bean-buchanan]

ayo...anyone else see the slight samsharon chemistry 👀

honestly, i see them having a romanogers kind of dynamic: flirty, professional, and dare i say… iconic.

[shmaptainwrites]

❝𝕓𝕝𝕦𝕣𝕓𝕤❞

criminal minds blurb masterlist

9-1-1 blurb masterlist

house m.d. blurb masterlist

~ One call away {Romanogers}

~ L is for let me die please {Peter Parker} [FEM]

~ What’s a Netflix {Reggie Peters} [GN]

~ Ask Your Mom First {Reggie Peters} [FEM]

~ Meesa Think Yousa Cute {Reggie Peters} [FEM]

~ Cramps [HC] {Reggie Peters} [FEM]

~ Stress & Cigarettes [HC] {Reggie Peters} [GN]

~ Mental Health Day {Reggie Peters} [GN]

~ Insecure {Reggie Peters} [GN]

~ Nail Polish {Luke Patterson} [GN]

~ Mom Friend [HC] {Sunset Curve} [GN]

~ Distraction {Reggie Peters} [GN]

~ Jitterbug {Steve Rogers} [GN]

~ Cuddles {Steve Rogers} [GN]

~ Respect Your Elders {Steve Rogers} [GN]

~ Over Protective {Steve Rogers} [FEM]

~Adventure {Steve Rogers} [GN]

~ PSA {Steve Rogers} [slight!FEM]

~ Laughter {Steve Rogers} [GN]

~ Exhausted {Bucky Barnes} [GN]

~ Sleepy Kisses {Steve Rogers} [FEM]

~ Waltz {Helmut Zemo} [GN]

~ Piggy Back Ride {Natasha Romanoff} [GN]

~ Sit With Me {Wanda Maximoff} [GN]

~ Kiss Goodbye {Helmut Zemo} [GN]

~ Squishy {Helmut Zemo} [FEM]

~ Instinct {Helmut Zemo} [GN]

~ Big and Small {Helmut Zemo} [slight!FEM]

~ Secret Kisses {Helmut Zemo} [GN]

~ Thai Milk Tea {Steve Rogers} [GN]

~ Perfect Angel {Bucky Barnes} [GN]

~ Never Let Go {Helmut Zemo} [GN]

~ Banged Up {Sam Wilson} [GN]

~ I’ll Take Care of It {Laszlo Kreizler} [slight!FEM]

~ Broken {Helmut Zemo} [GN]

~ Overwhelmed {Laszlo Kreizler} [GN]

~ Dresses {Helmut Zemo} [GN]

~Not Good Enough {Helmut Zemo} [MALE]

~ Be Careful {Helmut Zemo} [GN]

~Bad Ideas {Laszlo Kreizler} [GN]

~ Come Back to Me {Laszlo Kreizler} [GN]

~ Slip Away {Andrea Marowski} [GN]

~ Under the Weather {Laszlo Kreizler} [GN]

~ I Feel Your Pain {Laszlo Kreizler} [FEM]

~ Right and Wrong {Helmut Zemo} [GN]

~ Siren {Laszlo Kreizler} [GN]

~ The Mind Wants What It Wants {Laszlo Kreizler} [GN]

~ Rest {Laszlo Kreizler} [GN]

~ Tense {Laszlo Kreizler} [GN]

~ First Kiss {Laszlo Kreizler} [GN]

~ Mornings {Laszlo Kreizler} [GN]

~ Interrupted Story {Helmut Zemo} [GN]

~ Secrets Worth Keeping {Steve Rogers} [FEM]

[aquajules]

K I D N A P P E D   B Y   A   P I R A T E    C A P T I V A T E D   B Y   A   P R I N C E ,   P A R T   I

Romanogers - Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov  ↳ enemies to lovers/pirate captain & crown prince au

for @xo-stardust720​

Long ago, across sparkling blue waters of fathomless oceans, nestled between a rather sizable forest, stood a fairly large kingdom ruled since the beginning of its time by the prosperous Rogers' family line. Most loyal to the throne was the ever faithful Romanov family who served dutifully to each new ruler. All was well and peaceable within the kingdom for centuries until one fateful summer’s evening.

Twenty-two-year-old Natalia Romanov could remember the day as if it had happened yesterday. Fourteen years ago, when Nat was just eight years-old, her parents were wrongfully accused of treason and the whole Romanov family, including anyone related, was sentenced to death by order of King Joseph.

Awaiting her time to end, Nat watched with growing horror as one by one each Romanov relation from eldest to youngest was executed. She felt numb as she watched the guards lead her mother away to her demise. As she brushed away indignant tears that had trickled down her face, she felt a timid tug on her dress from behind. Turning, she was met with a rather small, frail looking boy around her age with unruly blonde hair, releasing his slight grip on her dress, he raised a finger to his lips and held out a cloak the color of his brilliant ocean blue eyes; he indicated for Nat to slip on the garment and quietly follow him.

Heart pounding and pulse racing, Nat gripped the boy’s hand tightly as they snuck out unnoticed and swiftly headed towards the huge merchant ships docked down at the crowded port where gentle waves lapped at the sides of each ship.

Crouched down behind several large crates near the docks, the boy struggling to catch his breath persuaded Nat to stow away onto one of the merchant ships about to leave the port; he informed her not to return for quite some time until the whole ordeal had been blown over and but forgotten.

Turning to the boy, Nat reached forward and embraced him whilst whispering her thanks. Startled, the boy hesitated before patting her back awkwardly. Pulling away, Nat kept the tears that burned her eyes and threatened to fall at bay while a brief smile ghosted her lips before a determined look settled on her features. Cautiously peeking around the stack of boxes, she saw a clear opening for her to sneak aboard. She turned back towards where the boy was crouched behind her only to find no one there but a piece of folded paper.

Quickly glancing around, Nat picked up the paper and unfolded it. A soft gasp escaped her lips as her eyes settled on the beautiful sketch of her solemn gaze with the words inked below in beautiful cursive script, Until We Meet Again. Folding the paper and tucking it into her apron pocket, Nat snuck aboard the ship and thus began her life at sea.

For several years, life with the merchants was serene, but when Nat turned sixteen bad luck seemed to strike them at every turn, until finally it all ended when pirates overtook the ship. Only Nat was saved alive because of her wits and quick thinking, disguising herself as a gentleman and bearing the name Nathaniel Rushman, Nat negotiated with her captors and soon earned her keep as one of them.

It didn’t take Nat much time at all to learn the ways of a pirate and soon became the youngest female pirate captain to sail the seven seas. Aboard her magnificent ship, The Black Widow, Nat and her crew of loyal companions prowled the vast ocean, preying upon the innocent.

Fueled by the anger, resentment and pure hatred for King Joseph she had kept bottled up inside her for years, Nat mainly plundered ships sailing the royal flag. She’d taunt the opposing captains before claiming their lives with a swift plunge of her feared sword, she’d strip the ship of anything valuable and loot the precious cargo, always sparing a few shipmates lives to return to their king with word of Nat’s plundering. She was a force of nature to be reckoned with, but another summer’s evening would yet again change the course of Nat’s life.

Upon boarding a simple merchants ship, Nat was met by opposition of an unlikely figure, a rather frail-looking young man wielded a sword and attempted to halt Nat in her pirating. Staring into his brilliant ocean blue eyes burning with deficiency, Nat was struck by a sense of familiarity.

Trying to use Nat’s dumbfoundedness to his advantage, the young man attempted to attack her while she was taken aback, but Nat easily parried his blow away and with one quick maneuver had the man pinned to the deck, her deadly sword lightly touching his chest. The captain and crew of the merchant ship had drawn their weapons during the exchange, upon which Nat’s first mate confirmed that the man she had taken down was none other than the crown prince, Steven Rogers.

Struggling to keep her wrath hidden, Nat threatened the opposing crew to drop their weapons and surrender or say goodbye to their prince. Reluctantly they threw their swords down by her feet and surrendered to their fate. Having concocted a malicious plan, Nat took only the prince and the opposing captain, James Barnes, as her prisoners, and mercifully let the rest of the crew live with a message to take straight back to their king:

If you truly love your son, you will come in search for him yourself and pay a great price, your life for his. If you choose not to save your own flesh and blood, the Rogers family line will end with him. I’ll be waiting.

The days following were filled with relentless strife and quarrels between Nat and Steve, and yet Nat began to develop feelings for the proud and stubborn prince. Confused and irritated with these unfamiliar developing feelings, Nat concealed her growing attraction towards Steve and instead continued to squabble with him.

As the days slowly drifted into weeks and weeks to months, Steve’s ever present illness continued to worsen and eventually confined him to bed. Soon after, James privately approached Nat and explained to her where they had been headed before she’d interfered, he told her about the tales of a beautiful mythical island shrouded in magic where a mysterious doctor could heal anyone and anything, if Steve didn’t make it there soon, James feared that the next few days would surely be Steve’s last. Feeling torn between letting Steve go or keeping him, Nat wrestled with the decision for the rest of the day.

Later in the evening, she stepped down into Steve’s cabin and worriedly watched as he slept restlessly with labored breath. Nat replaced the damp cloth on his fevered brow with a fresh one and straightened his blankets. As she stepped away, she heard a muffled thud on the floor, looking down she saw Steve’s journal near her feet. Reaching down to pick it up, Nat stopped short as she stared at the pages the journal had opened to, her unmistakable figure was inked on the worn pages and a beautiful flowing cursive script underneath had Nat unknowingly hold her breath as she brought the journal closer to the dim flickering candlelight, something about the handwriting was strangely familiar… could it be?

With trembling hands, Nat reached into the breast pocket of her coat and slowly pulled out the folded paper, worn and tattered from age and salty sea waters, that she was given over fourteen years ago. With bated breath, she unfolded the paper and gently placed it next to the open journal. Although his handwriting had improved over the years, it was still the same flowing script and the similarities between the sketches were uncanny. Steve was undoubtedly the little boy who had rescued her from an inevitable demise all those years ago.

This overwhelming discovery ultimately finalized her decision, and with a heavy heart she sent James and Steve off to the magical island the following morning without making her romantic feelings for Steve known to him, hoping that one day she would meet him again.

[avengingnomad]

Day 15- Haunted House

“Hey Steve,” Natasha sat beside him on the couch. The tv was on low, playing some comedy. Steve turned his head and smiled at her.

“Hey, how’s it going?” He lifted his arm and she slipped underneath, resting her head against his body.

“Good. Did you enjoy your first day off?”, Natasha absentmindedly traced circles lightly up and down Steve’s arm. In return he drew patterns with his fingers on her back.

“Yeah. It was nice to just take a day and do nothing. Recharge.” Steve kissed the top of her head.

Their attention turned to the tv. On it was a commercial for a local haunted house. The ad promised “frighteningly fun horrors”. “You ever been to one of those, Steve?”, Natasha looked up at him.

“Can’t say that I have.” Steve watched as the commercial ended, showing the location of the haunted house. “But it looks like fun.” Steve eyed Natasha with a smile on his face. “Would you wanna go?”

“Yeah, I think it’d be a lot of fun.” Natasha snuggled in closer to Steve.

“Tomorrow then?” Steve raised an eyebrow

“Tomorrow” Natasha kissed his neck as a promise.

The following night, the pair went out for dinner and then headed to the haunted house. The streetlights were on and the night sky was full of stars. There was a slight breeze rustling fallen leaves through the streets. A visible shiver went down Natasha’s spine. Steve glanced her way and smirked.

“Scared, Nat?”, he teased her.

“You wish”, Natasha smiled.

They stepped up to a porch covered in cobwebs. A group of four teenagers were right ahead of them giggling and whispering to one another. Shrieks and screams echoed through the halls of the large house. Each room had its own theme. To their left, the room seemed to be a portal to Hell. The room was bathed in deep red. Blackened bones littered the walls and floor. One was chained to the wall with shackled. “Nothing scary so far.” Natasha said unimpressed.

“Maybe it gets better?” Steve said hopefully. They turned the corner—

“Blaaghhh!” A person in a demon costume jumped out at them. Natasha and Steve didn’t budge. They stifled a laugh, and moved to the next room. As they passed, the demon whispered to someone unseen. “Dude, I think that’s Captain America.”

Steve and Natasha glanced at each other, shaking their heads with amusement.

The next room was a makeshift lab. There was a gurney in the middle of the room with a woman screaming as a man with an chainsaw looked over her, cackling maniacally. The lights flickered, and machines beeped loudly. On the walls were body parts in jars illuminated by a greenish glow. The doctor turned his sights on Steve and Natasha. His eyes bugged out, and raised the chainsaw towards them. Behind them, someone yelled and reached out grimy blackened fingers. They grazed Natasha and she reacted in a flash. Her hand wrapped around the assailant’s and she twisted their arm behind their back. Before she knew it, the unsuspecting man yelped. “Ah what the hell.”

Natasha came to her senses and let the man go. “Sorry about that, dude.”

The man massaged his arm, and then looked at Natasha’s face. His eyes widened and his mouth fell open. “Holy sh—” he stepped back and and his eyes went from Natasha to Steve, and back again. “You’re- you’re them!” He stammered.

“Shh shh. Yeah, it’s...us” Steve whispered. “Do you think you could keep it to yourself until we get through? We’re kind of on a date here, man.” Steve gave the other man a pleading smile.

“Uh, yeah. ‘Course sir. Anything for you, Captain. And you, Widow,” he turned toward Natasha, “I gotta say: you are so badass! My little sister loves you! She’s never gonna believe I met you.”

Steve held out his hand. The man shook it eagerly. “Have a good night, man.” As the exited the room, they heard the man whisper to himself, “What just happened?”

They went through the rest of the house, laughing at the “scary gags” and jump scares. At one point, Natasha slipped her arm through Steve’s as they walked from room to room. When they left through the front door, they heard someone yell from the inside, “Are you fricken serious, Carl?!” and “When?!” Steve turned back to the house, Natasha still on his arm, giving a salute towards the window. There was a small gathering of people in costumes huddled together peering out at them.

One of the ghouls yelled out, “Romanogers forever!”

Steve and Natasha left the haunted house behind them, hands still intertwined. They headed home in the quiet darkness. “What was it that person called out at us?”

“Romanogers”, Natasha answered. “It’s called a ship name.”

“‘Ship name’? What’s that?”

“It’s when people think two should be together. It’s short for ‘relationship’”, Natasha clarified.

“So people we don’t know ‘ship’ us together?”

“Apparently” Natasha laughed.

“Well it makes sense. We are pretty great together.” Steve smiled at her.

[foreverandaday-1]

Complaining - romanogers

Romanogers hospital scene in CATWS as a fix it of sorts but i'm pretending it happened.

So err I can't write smut cause it just doesn't work so this is the before, and if anyone wants to write the actual smut they can...

Steve was looking at the empty vending machine. Damn. It was gone. What was he going to do now?

Footsteps came and stopped over his left shoulder. A redhead blew a bubble of obnoxiously pink gum. Natasha. Nat.

She took it.

He turned around keeping eye contact with an unknown. A few tense seconds of no blinking before she shifted and her mouth curved into an imitation of a smirk.

She knew something.

Steve looked around before pushing her into an empty room, nudging the door closed half-heartedly, to preoccupied to care.

She looked smug - shocked - intrigued - smirking - defensive as she hit the wall.

'Where is it' was growled out of a tense Steve.

'Safe'

'Do better'

'Where did you get it?'

'Why would I tell you?'

'Fury gave it to you. Why?'

'What's on it?'

'I don't know.'

'Stop lying!'

He tightened his hold on her upper arms.

'I only act like I know everything, Rogers' she replied accusingly.

'I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn't you?'

'Well, it makes sense.' She made it sound obvious 'The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you.'

'I'm not gonna ask you again'

She thought about what she could say and decided to go with it, 'I know who killed Fury. Most of the intelligence community doesn't believe he exists, the ones who do call him the Winter Soldier. He's credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years.' She ended it rater dramatically.

'So he's a ghost story' He looked unsure.

'I've tried to go after him. Like you said he's a ghost story.'

He pressed closer, brows furrowed, searching her face for lies.

'That was rather forward, and you still have me pinned against a wall.'

She lowered her voice a few octaves and it came out huskier. Her back arched slightly as she lengthened her neck.

'Your face is inches away from mine...'

His grip loosened as her right hand made its way to his chest.

She leant forward directing her face to his ear

'Your thigh is also very firmly between my legs and quite high up,' she breathed.

As she returned her head to the wall, maintaining new eye contact along the slow path, he seemed to consider his options.

In no time at all her hands were pinned above her head in one of Steve's. Both of her legs were parted by his. The other hand had raised one of her legs to rest it over his hip with his palm firmly under her upper thigh, fingers oh so close to her warmth.

He leaned in to her ear, mirroring het earlier action.

'This' he punctuated with a slight roll of hips 'is forward, doll'

A gasp halfway to keening was the last thing she exhaled before he closed in, trapping her in a cage of animal heat and desire.

Well, she hadn't expexted him to be this forward, but then again, she thought with a moan as he lifted her up pushing her further into the wall, she wasn't exactly complaining.

Soooooo... thoughts?

(I copied the main dialogue from the movie and it belongs to marvel.)

[agentbarton12]

college friends to lovers "you know i'll do anything for you" ~ romanogers pls

au: 8 — college!au; trope: 1 — friends to lovers; prompt:10 — “you know i’ll do anything for you”

romanogers fic, hope you like! promt list here

“C’mon, Nat, you know I’ll do anything for you.”

Steve knew he was laying it on thick, but he really needed Natasha to help him with his art project, and she was the only person he could get to model for him at such short notice.

(And he wasn’t lying either.)

Nat raised her eyebrow skeptically. “Oh, yeah?”

The mischievous gleam in Natasha’s eye almost made Steve backtrack and say he didn’t mean it, but he was desperate.

“Yes, really. I’ll do anything for you so as my best friend, you need to do anything for me. Like model for my art project.”

“First of all,” Natasha began, leaning forward on her chair and resting her arms on the table in front of her. Since it was a Sunday, they were studying in the library together. “That is not how friendship works.”

“I’m pretty sure it is,” Steve disagreed playfully.

Nat shook her head with a slight smile, “It’s really not.” Steve shrugged. “Secondly, anything?”

Steve debated in his head. On the one hand, he really needed to get this project done before the end of the week and he desperate for a model.

On the other hand, the smirk on Natasha’s face was scaring him and he just knew she had something up her sleeve.

But, he had a week to paint an abstract portrait of a human subject and he could not fail this class.

Which is why he says: “Yes, anything, now please help me.”

Nat did not respond immediately. She hummed and thought it over, and Steve was starting to get second thoughts.

“Okay, Rogers,” she said breaking him out of his thoughts, “I’ll let you paint me like one of you French girls, on one con—”

“My what—oh no!” Steve’s face flushed with embarrassment at what Nat was implying. “It’s not that kind of—That’s not what’s going to—”

“On one condition,” Nat said effectively interrupting Steve’s tangent. (He was still blushing furiously.) “You know, since you’ll do anything for me.”

Steve gulped. “Am I going to regret this?”

The redhead merely shrugged in response. “You have to ask out Kristen. The one from that Statistics course, she’s nice.”

“Uh, this is supposed to be for you.”

“Yes, it will be for me. I want you to get out of that dorm room more and hang out with someone that isn’t Barnes or Wilson. I want you to have fun with someone. I want you to get a life.”

He would have been hurt but he saw the truth in her words. He was pretty secluded and he understood that this was coming from a good place.

“You first,” he said with a slight nod in her direction.

She sent him a sad smile. Steve knew what about had happened to her before she was adopted by Fury, and he knew she felt that she didn’t deserve love because of it.

And Steve wanted her to know that she did. That he was ready to give all of his just to prove her wrong. And a part of Steve felt that she knew this (because Nat knew everything, let’s be honest) which is why she kept pushing him to other girls and guys.

“I have one. I just plan on spending it alone.”

Steve had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “There’s no way that’s happening. What with Fury, Clint, Sam, Bucky—” Nat opened her mouth to object, but Steve cut her off, “Uh-uh, they are just as much your friends as they are mine—Wanda and Tony? And me? Yeah, not possible.”

Nat sat silently for a while. Then she spoke up. “Fine. What about Lillian? From B.Com Accounting?”

The blonde scrunched up his nose. “Lip piercing?” Nat nodded. “Yeah, not ready for that.”

She laughed. “Too shy or too scared?”

“Too in love with you.”

Her face fell and Steve was worried he made a mistake by saying that, but knew he had to anyway.

“Steve...” she started, but the boy in question didn’t let her finish.

He shook his head. “No, Nat. I know you try and set me up with other people because you know I want to be with you. I know you never call yourself my friend because you don’t think you deserve to. But you do. And if there is anything I’ll do for you is prove it until you believe me.”

Natasha’s mouth was slightly agape. Steve had never seen her look so shocked before. Nothing ever surprised her.

She took in a breath of air then gulped nervously, which was surprising because Natasha Romanoff was anything but. “You know what you can do for me?” she asked in a low voice.

“What?”

“Get a life. With me.”

The blonde nearly fell out his chair, but he managed to keep his cool long enough to suavely ask, “You asking me out, Romanoff?”

She scowled at him. “You want a model or not?”

“I want you.”

He heard Nat curse in Russian under breath and it made him smile. “You’re insufferable.”

He shrugged then stood up. He walked around the table and held his hand out for Nat.

She eyed it skeptically before taking it. “Where are we going?”

“To get lives. I hear there’s this really great diner a block or two away from campus.”

“I’m not modelling nude, though.”

“That was never going to happen!”

[roaminginspiration]

One More Time

Finally back with a new Romanogers OS. Heads up: it is super angsty but hopefully it is worth the pain lol 

_____________________________________________________________

He walks along the corridors of the compound like a remote, forsaken place he once called home. As he turns around the corner and enters the conference room with daunting familiarity, his heartbeat quickens.

The big shelf stands imposingly in the middle of the room like a ruthless rampart obstructing his view yet allowing him to gnaw on spare seconds to regain composure.

The first thing he catches sight of is her bright red hair with blond ends peeking through between the vases and other trinkets on the shelf.

His heart immediately pounds in his chest so hard it could well burst at this very moment before having a chance to speak up.

A piece of his soul gets stuck in his throat like a painful lump. When he eventually comes to stand by the piece of furniture, he finds Natasha nonchalantly sprawled on her chair, one leg up on the table.

It makes him want to smile. It makes him want to cry.

It hits him more acutely than before how miserable she indeed was. Engrossed in her own deep thoughts, she doesn’t notice he has entered. She puts down half of her peanut sandwich with a dull pout. Her head falls back on the chair and she closes her eyelids tight, slowly spiraling back into heavy musing.

His eyes linger on every feature of her face. The thick eyelashes, her straight nose standing just above the nape of her full lips, slightly parted. Her cheekbones sharply embossed under a slight flush of pink almost concealing her pale complexion blemished by a diligent lack of sleep and meal.

He knew it already — he’d seen it up close before — but in this one moment, he truly acknowledges and revels in her boundless beauty. Those lips that had playfully smirked at him a hundred times; those lips he’d kissed a hundred times in his most daring dreams; those lips he once tasted in a brief stolen moment on an escalator and which now tormented him like a ghost.

On another day he would joke about making her dinner, but not today.

“Hi,” he hears himself blurt out. He wants to kick himself right away for such a trivial greeting.

Natasha’s eyes slowly crack open, a small grin tugging at her lips. God, he’d missed it. She tilts her head and probes him quietly.

“You here to do your laundry?” she asks with a casualness that is both soothing and excruciating. Why can’t she see why he has come here now?

He suddenly hates himself for letting her think, even for one second, he showed up for something so trivial and insignificant. He should have told her earlier, explicitly and unequivocally, that every time he came for a visit, it was for her. Several seconds slowly pass by in silence which earns him a quizzical frown from Natasha. He tries to clear the thick lump in his throat — conceal his growing emotion.

“To see a friend,” he utters but the words that come sound like the most outrageous lie. He abhors the casual tone this reunion has taken.

It makes her snort slightly. Part of him wonders — and hopes — she, too, can sense the fakeness of it all.

“Clearly, your friend is fine,” she answers coolly and makes up a smile. He frowns slightly: how did he never notice before this behavior was all a show to spare him additional guilt? Under his light, with his new enlightened perspective, he can so visibly read through her pain and hint of resentment for leaving her in here on her own. But Natasha was always too selfless with him to truly hold a grudge against him.

The glossy gleam in her eyes falls into the abyss of his mind. He will never forget this look again.

He carelessly throws his jacket without a proper glance and sits heavily on the chair across from her. He eyes her meticulously as if she could vanish soon.

He voices the familiar words with more depth than ever.

“You know, I kept —keep— telling everybody they should move on and... grow. Some do.” He trails as his gaze falls on her sorrowful figure. He feels tears fill his eyes. He clears his throat again as his hand curls into a fist. After swallowing tears, he resumes painfully. “But not us.”

She is taken aback by such an open display of emotions and yet she doesn’t seem to appreciate it is all directed at her.

“If I move on, who does this?” she asks. His heart sinks at the throbbing wound her words slash deeper open. He shakes his head.

He can’t take it anymore. Deeper instincts take hold of him and completely overshadow his reason. He reaches over and touches her hand.

Maybe it doesn’t need to be done is the right answer but not one fit for her to hear. Maybe if he hadn’t let her carry the weight of this responsibility alone, or at all, it would all have been different. It’s an answer she shouldn’t have to hear. It’s an answer he never wants to say to her again.

“It shouldn’t all fall on you.” One of the words clumsily uttered burns his tongue on its way out and triggers a new flow of sorrow. “I never expected you to do it.”

She furrows her brows deeply stunned by his cryptic words and his uncharacteristic demonstration of affection. She glimpses at his hand lying tenderly on her knuckles and looks deep into his eye.

The depth of his gaze, he assumes, becomes too much to bear and she breaks eye contact pulling her hand away in the process.

“I can handle it,” she comments dismissively.

He blinks numbly as it dawns on him that her mind is set in the hardest stone and nothing he can say will ever break it.

“Nat, I…,” he begins but her expression is already stripped of all emotions, completely unfazed, and indifferent to his silent plea.

He veers off the trajectory and clears his throat again. “I can’t lose you.”

She turns in his direction, astonished and confused. “What do you mean?” she asks.

He begins to muster the words but the big screen in the room comes to life and cuts his intervention short. He wants to utter the next words when he finds himself walking along the familiar corridors of the compound.

He slowly makes his way to the conference. Her red hair peeks through the vases and other trinkets on the bookshelf. She is seated in the same posture as earlier completely oblivious to his presence.

It’s unsettling but the greatest relief.

“Nat,” he calls softly.

She cracks her eyelids open and tilts her head in his direction.

“You here to do your laundry?” she asks with a teasing smirk. And the unmissable hurt, growing more and more apparent every time.

He rushes forward and leans over the table, towering over her frail figure.

“Don’t do it,” he exclaims assertively. “You can’t-I can’t take it. I’ll never be able to move on.”

She eyes him up quizzically. Seeing the broken expression on his face, she drops the casual smirk. Her leg slips off the table and she sits up. “Don’t do what?” she inquires curiously.

“I can find another way to save us all without paying that hard price,” he continues frenetically. His thoughts are toppling one upon another in his mind, fighting for priority. He’s talking fast, suddenly made painfully aware of the little time he has left. “Promise me you won’t go there. Promise me you’ll fight to stay alive.”

Her green eyes delve into his, seeking clarity. But his stern composure does not waver. After one long look exchanged, she finally breaks into chuckles.

“What kind of water have you been drinking on Liberty Island?”

Her light-heartedness is excruciating.

“Please, listen to me — we’re running out of time,” he goes on throwing a glimpse at the screen behind them. “I need you to survive this. It shouldn’t have been you. I need to know that you will fight your hardest to make it back.”

“Jut promise me!” he promotes her urgently with a demanding fist on the table.

She freezes. “Fine. I promise.” As short as it is, it brings him relief and comfort. “Whatever the hell you’re rambling on about,” she finishes.

A heavy sigh slips out of his lips and his shoulders drop heavily. He’s about to protest again when the screen goes on, stealing her attention away.

He curses under his breath….and finds himself walking along the familiar corridors of the compound.

He finds his way to her almost with his eyes closed. Natasha is holding back tears, eyes shut tight.

The sight is heart-breaking. Frustrating even. He heavily drops the jacket on the floor. It makes her jump in surprise. Her facial features relax when she recognizes him.

A smirk begins to tug at her lips. He strides around the table up to her chair.

“You here to do your —,” she begins when he grabs her hand and yanks her up. Her small figure collides onto his chest and he presses he crushes his lips against hers. Eager and desperate.

Her mouth is unresponsive at first then warm up to the taste of his lips. She kisses him back with a sense of hopelessness. He deepens the kiss, unwilling to waste any more time than he already has. She melts under his touch, surprisingly compliant.

The kiss is better than that stolen moment in the mall, better than the ones he had in his dreams. This one is grounded, real. One he will reminisce forever.

Threading her fingers through his hair, she guides his lips down to the nape of her throat.

“What is going on?” she breathes out between soft moans. He plants sweet, heated kisses down her neck, breathing in her scent like it is the last time.

“Something I should have done long ago,” he murmurs finally, looking into her eyes.

Her fingers caress the side of his face.

“I’m sorry I didn’t have the courage to do it when it still mattered,” he whispers, tears sitting at the edge. She can read the raw, ugly self-hatred that passes through his eyes.

“It’s ok,” she whispers back reassuringly. He is grateful for her boundless ability to forgive people who wronged her. He leans in again when the screen behind blasts on. They both ignore it while his lips devour her for that last second.

Then he is walking again along the familiar corridors of the compound.

Again and again and again.

Always finding his way back to her, in countless different scenarios but the same cursed and setting, each time precociously interrupted in the cruelest way.

Exhaustion and despair take over as he meandered through the corridors for the umpteenth time, on his way to a reunion doomed to be aborted. Although it is indeed Natasha he finds sitting in that chair the same way he found her that day before Scott showed up with his time Heist idea, it becomes more and more undeniable it isn’t the whole version of her. Rather a hard copy of a fragment limited by space. And time.

He eventually realizes that he could never prevent the inevitable to happen for the simple reason he is interacting with is nothing more than a cheat code. And although advising, demanding, or begging her not to take that jump was all he wants to say, he eventually understands that these are not the words she should hear.

So this time again, as he entered the conference room and caught glimpse of her bright red hair peeking through the items on the shelf, he made his way straight to her with newly found determination and inner conviction.

She cracks her eyelids open and raises an eyebrow as she sees him walk straight up to her. He slowly kneels down in front of her chair and holds her hand. Tears rise to his eyes for the hundredth time with the same profusion as the first.

A smirk plays on her lips.

“You here to—.”

“Natasha, please listen to me,” he cuts in the pre-recorded tape he hasn’t been able to put out her mouth all the attempts before. He glances down at her hand curled into is palm then he looks up into her eyes. “I’m sorry I left you in this empty place by yourself. And…I’m sorry I let you go to Vormir. But I don’t want to take away what you did to save everyone.” He trails off and squeezes her hand a little tighter as his pupils quiver under her confused but intense gaze. “I am so proud of you. Even the nights I yelled and screamed and cursed you for making the choice you did out there, I was still proud of you. I stand forever stunned and humbled by your valor and your noble soul. I know you always thought you had to keep trying to wipe the red off your ledger but the truth is you’d paid your debt long before then. And I loved you still the same.”

Two hot tears roll down his face as he takes in the sight of her face with unadulterated adoration. “I love you, Nat. And maybe carrying the weight of not telling you when I had a chance is my punishment for not going after the Soul Stone with you — this pain and this guilt are all I have left of you. But if this thing we’ve been doing here can achieve anything I hope it’s for you to carry on knowing, somewhere in a deep and recluse corner of your mind, that you were loved truly and fully for who you are.”

He closes his eyes and drops his head, pressing his forehead on her knee. The looming reset is heart-wrenching to accept; he gently and repeatedly kisses her hand, knuckles and palm. Soon, he feels her fingers gently stroke the back of his head.

“I heard you and I promise I won’t forget,” she says.

He slowly raises his head and gives her a look that bears a thousand hopes.

“I could live with that,” he murmurs.

Her face breaks into a genuine smile, one he can’t recall seeing in years after the Snap.

The screen comes to life, stepping in on their moment.

“No, not yet,” he exclaims urgently.

And he finds himself walking in the corridors of the compound again. As he is about to make his way to the conference room a door of light appears in front of him and a man, dressed in dull brownish suits steps through, with a grim expression.

Steve’s heartbeat quickens and the pain of being soon separated from Natasha almost becomes physical. He shakes his head, ready to cling on any heavy object around not to be pulled out of this place. “I need more time. This isn’t enough!”

“Temporal loops can do the trick for only so long,” the TVA agent says matter-of-factly. “You knew that before you agreed.”

On his journey to bring all the Infinity Stones back to their right times and places, he ended up breaking the Universal rules in Vormir, making a Variant out of him. It didn’t take long for the TVA agents to find him and take them to their base. His interrogation turned into a deal that took him straight to that familiar corridor in the compound. Back to her. He knew what it entailed — he bargained for it — but he was adamant to have one more time with her.

“It’s not really her. And you can’t stay here forever,” the agent reminds her.

He looks in the corner and catches sight of her bright red hair peeking through the trinkets on the bookshelf. How close and how far she sits makes it all more painful.

His voice breaks. “I know,” he murmurs. But he can’t leave her. Not yet. “I just need a little more time with her. Please.”

His doleful bright blue eyes turn back to the agent whose firm features eventually wield. “Okay,” he says. He shoots him a last glance and steps through the light portal again before it shuts completely.

Steve wipes his hand over his face and takes a deep breath. He enters the conference room in a familiar fashion that has become addictive and shoots a brief and booming feeling of relief.

Natasha is sprawled on her chair, one leg up the table. Her eyelids are shut. When he calls her name, she cracks them open, tilts her head in his direction as smirk tugs at her lips.

“You here do your laundry?”

The words hurt but the sound of her voice heals him temporarily. He smiles at her and steps forward.

[spideychelleforever]

@spideychelleweek Day 3: Hogwarts AU

“Think of the happiest, happiest possible memory you could possibly remember,” Okoye said, “and let it warm you from head to toe. Let it invigorate you. Let it protect you. Let it heal you.”

MJ nodded, her eyes closed, her breathing slow and deliberate as she inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. Liz sat beside her, watching expectantly with her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

After a sigh, MJ stood up and nodded at Okoye. “I’m ready.”

Okoye slowly nodded. She moved to the trunk, flipped a few locks, and held the lid tightly as she looked to MJ for one last approval. When MJ nodded, taking a defensive stance with her wand, Okoye nodded one last time before opening the trunk.

The boggart flew out, taking the shape of the dread Dementor, and though it was still just a boggart, Okoye still shuddered as she felt the faux-cold from it. MJ eyed the Boggart with a slight sense of dread, but she just kept breathing. She’d been practicing for this. Eventually, her dread was buried long enough for her to begin casting the charm. And soon enough, she was confidently shouting “Expecto Patronum” at the ghoul.

A bright beam of light erupted from the top of MJ’s wand, followed by a cornucopia of brightness as the room was flooded in light. And soon, a single, large silver multi-legged creature leapt out from MJ’s wand and raised its forelimbs at the Boggart, which was quickly beaten into a retreat. Okoye soon locked the trunk from whence it came, and beamed at MJ who was standing there in awe at what she’d just done.

Liz squealed and ran to hug MJ, lifting her off her feet, and Okoye drifted over to warmly embrace her as well, and declared a good cup of tea was in order.

Soon the three women were calmly sipping their tea, excited with what they’d just witnessed. But soon, the topic of MJ’s corporeal Patronus came up, and Liz gently asked if MJ wanted to share what her happiest memory she thought of was.

MJ didn’t respond at first. But then she privately remembered the memory she’d called upon - or rather, the memories she’d called upon. Because at the end of the day, she could remember quite a bit of happy memories, but the happiest, dearest, and most precious revolves around time she spent with Peter.

Their movie nights together. Their food dates. The times they spent walking and talking together. Or when they’d just read different books together in silence. Making stupid jokes and memes together. Making each other smile with only so much as a “how was your day?”

Maybe it was a stupid secret crush. Maybe she was just a stupid lovesick girl in love with a boy who’d never love her back. But the fact that her Patronus, a rare one that had taken on a corporeal form, had taken on the form of a spider, had to count for something, right?

Tagging: my crush @you-guys--are-losers @spiderman-homecomeme @spideychelleweek @spideychelle @spideyxchelle @spideychelle-romanogers @peterjonesparker @suplosers @here-be-spideychelle @acastleintheair @wandrlust-stark @lovely-iris-west-allen @sodafizzyart

[tendernessfic]

555326 [Romanogers]

DISCLAIMER: Please be aware that although this version references existing universes/dimensions, I have written this in accordance with the timeline of events in the MCU.

Vormir, 2014.

The cold breeze swept through him. It was not a good chill and he knew it. He could sense the grief that the place bred, the devastation it caused. Doubts on whether or not his plan would work clouded his thoughts. He had no way to test it out, he had to simply do it and see.

The stone burned brightly behind in his left hand, while the other tightened its grip on Mjolnir.

This is gonna work, Steve.

I know it is, ‘cause I don’t know what I’m going to do if it doesn’t.

“Rogers, Steven. Son of Joseph.”

From afar, he could see the black cloak Cloat Clint had described, slowly making its way into his full vision. Then, he appeared.

He stepped forward, “I thought the dead were meant to stay dead.”

“But death did not take me, young boy,” he replied while walking in the direction of the abyss, “you thought you won, but you are wrong once again, as you were back then.”

Steve studied him carefully, he did not seem surprised at the reunion, nor was he afraid of his presence.

“Tell me, what is it that you seek?”

“I think you know that my purpose is not to seek, yet to return something that was taken.”

His eyes shot up as he stood, clearly alarmed that his assumption was true, “My boy, that is not a mission you shall complete.”

With a slight head tilt, he smiled, “And I think you should know by now that I complete my missions, whatever it takes.”

He held the hammer towards the sky and clouds gathered, followed by the sound of deafening thunder and a bolt of lightning striking his right arm. He could only imagine the look on Thor’s face if he had seen what just happened. Oh, how he missed his dear friend.

It was no surprise that fear overtook the face of his enemy for two seconds, before he started bolting towards Steve. Steve calmly walked forward while swinging the hammer, then hurled it towards the skull, immediately knocking him over.

He then rushed to where his body laid, and placed his foot on the skull’s chest to prevent him from getting up, “You were never meant to receive freedom,” he spat, “not after all that you’ve taken from us.”

“I have paid the price for my freedom, and I’ll be damned if someone takes it for me.”

“Well,” Steve shrugged, “then you should’ve given up when you met me.”

With that, he tossed the stone over the abyss as the skull cried out in desperation. A bright light overtook him and before he knew it, all he saw was black.

…

“Steve,”

He felt someone nudge his side. At first, it was a soft nudge, then it increasingly got harder.

“Wake up already, you can’t expect me to believe that killed you?”

His eyes fluttered open. Amidst the blur, he saw a tinge of red and smelt a familiar scent. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what it is but it made his heart race. And as his vision came to, he could not believe what or rather who was crouching down in front of him.

“Nat?”

She grinned, “Nice to see you too, soldier.”

Placing her hand behind his back, she helped him sit up and dusted some dirt off his shoulders. Still in complete shock, Steve simply stared at her with his mouth wide open. Nat laughed and nudged him, “Bet Thor took that really hard, huh?”

“What?”

She pointed at Mjolnir, “You and his baby.”

Steve chuckled, “Actually, he knew all along I was worthy.”

“Okay big guy,” she raised her palms in the air as if surrendering before standing up, “clearly the hammer might’ve malfunctioned or something but whatever makes you happy.”

As he stood, he took a good look at her. She looked incredible and exactly as she did before he lost her. And so he took her into his arms and held her tight, “This can’t be real.”  

He could feel her smile against him, “I missed you too.”

Steve took a good look of his surroundings, it didn’t seem like they were in Vormir. There was a light shade of yellow all around them, and nothing else but shallow water under their feet.

“Where are we?” he asked.

She let go of Steve and smiled, “Take a walk with me?”

“It would be an honour, ma’am.” He said as he bent down to pick up the hammer.

She scoffed, “Do me a favour and leave that, you won’t need it here. Trust me.”

So he did. The two of them walked towards nowhere in silence for a while, before he spoke up, “Everyone is going to be so happy that you’re back.”

She let out a sad laugh, “You asked where we were. We’re not on Vormir anymore.”

“Then this must be some sort of alternate dimension, right? You’ve been trapped here all along?”

She halted her steps. Steve noticed her shoulders stiffened as she brought her arms around her.

“Steve, I’m not going back.”

He walked around her so that he could see her face. She had a look of content.

“What do you mean?”

She looked up at him, “When I did it, when I jumped, my soul was released from my physical being and I was brought here, into this world. Now that the stone has been returned, I can be released.”

He frowned, “Which means you can go back, right?”

“It’s simple really,” she took a step forward, “think of spilt milk. Once it’s out of the carton, you can’t get it back in.”

Steve felt his heart shatter, “B-but Nat, I returned the stone, I-I fixed the timeline everything's meant to go back to how it was-”

“But how that is how it is, was and ever will be, Steve. I jumped. I made that choice. You brought the timeline back together but it was always my destiny in this universe to jump. I’m not meant to go back Steve.”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, “But where will you go?”

She shrugged, “Don’t know. You always said that there is only one God, even after meeting Thor. So I guess I’ll find out, won’t I? Man, it’ll suck if I find out Thor’s the one judging me.”

“Nat that’s not funny.”

“I’m serious,” she laughed, “I don’t know where I’m going after this, but I’m thankful it’s you I get to spend my last moments with.”

He sighed, “But what about Bruce?”

She smiled softly, “You and I both know that there’s a reason why you’re here right now, and not him.” Steve looked away shyly, but she placed her palm on her cheek so she could look at him, “Bruce will be fine. And so will you.”

He placed his palm on top of hers, “This isn’t fair.”

“Well, that’s our reality. Maybe in another life.” She tiptoed and placed a soft kiss on his cheek,

“Go find her, Steve. Live a happy life for both of us.”

He felt a tear escape his eye, “But what about you?”

“You’ll see me again,” she winked at him, “trust me.”

With that, Nat let go, took one last good look at him and started walking away. Steve sensed a feeling of peace from her, she was truly ready to let go. Then something hit him.

“Nat?”

She turned around, “Steve?”

“You said our reality. What does that mean?”

Loud and clear, she replied, “Brooklyn, Earth-555326.”

His brows furrowed, “What the hell does that mean?”

“Bruce will help you,” she turned away but turned back, “oh and Steve? Language.”

Before he could say another word, Nat walked away and everything else faded to white.

…

Earth, five months after the discovery of the multiverse.

“Did she say anything else, cap? Did she give you specific instructions or coordinates?”

Steve groaned, “I’ve told you, all she said was Earth-”

“I know, I know, Earth-555326. But even if I get you there, there’s no guarantee you’ll be able to find whatever she wants you to find. Hell, we don’t even know what year we need to send you to, we’re just going off probability.” 

“Nat’s not the best at giving instructions...or at following orders.” he shrugged.

Bruce let out a scoff of agreement and inputted the numbers into the machine, “Cap, we don’t know what this will do to you. I mean, you’re already…”

“You can say it,” he said as he stood, “I’m old.”

“Yeah well you were always old but now you’re old, old.”

Steve pointed a finger at Bruce, “Don’t insult me, young man.”

With a loud whirl, the machine lit up, ready to transport Steve to this version of earth Nat so dearly wanted him to see. Steve made his way onto the platform and clutched the bouquet of flowers tightly. He had no idea if the flowers would survive the trip or if he would see her again, but he was hopeful.

“Hey cap? If she’s there, tell her I said hi.”

“Will do.” Steve said as the portal engulfed him.

…

Brooklyn, Earth-555326, year 2030

He recognised this place. He was nearly beat to dust here years ago, and Bucky saved him. He was only a few blocks away from home and he could practically smell the bakery he had been meaning to visit. Step by step, he took into account the slight differences this version of Brooklyn had. It was creepily similar, yet the man who (still) sold newspapers after ten years was now a woman. Instead of the regular public school he passed by every morning, there was a hospital, presumably owned by Tony Stark (definitely owned by Tony as it clearly said ‘Stark’).

“Catch me if you can, Nathaniel!”

“James, you get back here right now!”

Steve turned around to see a brown-haired boy, chasing after a red-haired younger boy who seemed to be carrying a bow and arrow.

“James! My dad’s gonna kill me if you break that, hand it back right now!”

The boy simply sprinted faster. Something compelled Steve to follow him. The older boy seemed familiar… wait. He was sure Nathaniel was the name of Clint’s son. But James? Who was this James? Did Clint marry someone else in this other life? Perhaps Nat stayed with Clint?

He was getting closer and closer to home now. He stopped in his tracks to see if the children would, as he expected, turn right. They did.

The two were running to his place.

He attempted to walk as fast as he could but stopped in his tracks the moment he heard a familiar voice.

“James Rogers, would you please hand those back to Nathaniel?”

It’s Nat. It’s her voice. Did she just say James Rogers?

“I’m just messing with him, mum,” the boy sneakily replied, “but one day I’ll beat his archery skills you’ll see.”

“Ha! As if.” Nathaniel echoed.

Steve stiffened. He took a step forward so that he could fully see the sight in front of him. A gasp escaped his lips. Natasha was standing right there, just approximately 32 feet away from him. The same Natasha who he had bid farewell in another dimension on Vormir. Her red hair in a bun up high, still dressed in all-black, but dressed comfortably. Did the boy call her-

“Tell him, mum!”

Nat rolled her eyes, “Inside right now, the both of you. Nate, have some lunch before your dad picks you up.”

“Yes, auntie Nat!”

The two children shuffled up the stairs and into his flat, while Natasha stood there for a few seconds before turning and looking straight at him, “I’m sorry sir, my son can be a bit loud sometimes.”

Her son.

Her son’s name is James Rogers.

Steve boldly stepped forward, “You’re...Natasha Romanoff, right?”

“My husband insists I tell people that my last name is now hyphenated with his,” she laughs, “but you have the right woman. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Without much thought, he approached her and handed over the bouquet, “Nothing...I just wanted to give you these.”

She had a puzzled expression on her face, “Why thank you, how awfully chivalrous for a stranger to-” and she stopped as she looked at his face.

His blue eyes. She would recognise them even amidst a massive crowd. It was clear by the wrinkles on his face that he wasn’t her Steve. But he was Steve nevertheless, just from somewhere far, far, away.

“You don’t look a day over seventy.” Nat smiled.

With a sigh of relief, he smiled back and asked, “How old is he?”

“Seven this year.” she laughed as Steve’s eyes widened, clearly realising what year she meant, “He...was a surprise that came to us about a few months after, you know.”

“But...that means you came back.”

A look of sadness washed over her eyes, “I’m guessing I didn’t return, in your version of reality?”

Steve shook his head, “But it was you who ultimately helped us defeat him. You gave us the ultimate sacrifice.”

“I guess the universe or all universes are fair,” she sighed, “you lost me. We lost Rhodey… and a couple more others.”

“Tony?”

“No, but we lost Pepper.” She picked a petal off the bouquet she was holding and twisted it around her fingers, “I kinda wished they had both survived you know, where you come from.”

He nodded, “I do too.” Steve noticed the ring on her finger and pointed at it, “when did that happen?”

“Three months ago, actually.” She said very matter-of-factly, “You finally convinced me, after all those years.”

“That long?” he nearly yelled.

Nat grinned cheekily, “It wasn’t as if we weren’t together, I mean, this thing here,” she showed off her ring, “simply means I have to take your name now.”

He scoffed, “You make it sound like a job.”

“Well, with that boy right there sometimes it’s tougher than our actual job.”

Steve chuckled and closed his eyes for a while, listening to the voice of his son from inside his house, “Tell me something, here, did you and-”

“Steve?” The feel of her hand on his cheek opened his eyes, “I would have chosen you, in any reality, dimension and universe.”

With that, his heart swelled, “Still, I promised Bruce to tell you he said hi.”

“Well, tell him that here, he’s currently with you. Actually, both of you are currently on your way back from some place in the nine realms. Thor needed help with something.”

“Huh,” he nodded impressively, “glad to see my worthiness being used to its full capacity.”

“My, my, cap. What has old age done to your confidence.” Nat teased. They both stood there, laughing for a while before Nat gestured upstairs, “I should really get going. Gotta prepare for your arrival.”

Steve looked down at his watch, “And I have to head back.”

As she did on Vormir, she tiptoed and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Only this time, the farewell filled Steve with a sense of fulfilment and happiness.

“Take care of yourself, old guy.”

“You too, Nat.”

She started walking up the stairs but turned around to get one last look at him, “You still look mighty fine, by the way.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Romanoff.”

“Rogers,” she winked at him, “it’s Romanoff-Rogers now.”

The familiar beeps alerted him that his time was up. And so he waved at her, “Tell both of them I said hi.”

“Will do.”

…

“Whoa, cap, you okay there?”

Bruce and Sam were standing above him. They helped him stand up and observed him to see if he had lost any limbs or if he had gotten younger.

“Glad to see you’re back in one piece, sorry to see you still old.” Sam nudged him.

He shrugged, “I think I’m quite happy with where I am now.”

Bruce noticed something, “I see the flowers are gone.”

Steve smiled and sighed, “Yeah.”

“Do you...want to talk about her now?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

SECOND DISCLAIMER

I am very well aware that in the original version of Earth-555326 the Avengers died under the hands of ultron. I am also very well aware that there might be distortions and things that don’t match with the original comics but I wrote this to provide closure for me and for other Romanogers shippers who deserve the closure we never got. I believe that with the existence of a multiverse anything is possible and that outcomes will differ across dimensions. This is just my take on what I would like Steve and Nat to have in another life, and I hope this little piece of mine brings you joy, or at least helps mend those scars still fresh even weeks after Endgame.

[chaotic-biquakes-blog]

So I found an old Romanogers fic piece I wrote forever ago. Enjoy!

The last time

It was time to move on, Nat had been made and she couldn't stay here anymore. She had everything she needed in her bag, like it always was. Everything she needed to start new at her fingertips, but the letter wasn't going with her.

She stalked Steve's apartment until she watched him roar off on that motorcycle of his. Climbing up the fire escape with the shadows so not to be seen was cake. The people in this neighborhood weren't exactly vigilant, Nat didn't understand why Steve fought to stay here but once she was inside the window she kind of got it. He had nested. Everywhere you looked inside his apartment was a little extension of himself. Unlike any place she had lived. Pictures and books lined his walls, books about aviation and electricity. Next to those was a shelf full of shiny nick-nacks. A small silver statue of liberty stood next to a bunch of tiny spiral notebooks that Nat remembered seeing Steve carry around with him everywhere. She longed to reach out and touch his things but she knew he would notice if things were slightly off. She opened her bag and pulled out the wine bottle and letter and sat them next to an open sketchbook. She opened the bottle of wine and took a gulp.

Her curiosity got the best of her, this was the last she would get of him. She wanted to see what he saw. She had seen him drawing when he thought no one was looking but she never expected him to be this good. His sketches were surreal, all that time in the ice had not stifled his creativity. Most of it was scenery, places he had been, but then the faces peered up at her. Nick Furry and all his rage, Thor's majestic lion mane, and Phil. Phil took her breath away and then she turned the page. A beautiful women stared back at her. The girl from the picture in the bunker that had made Steve stop in his tracks. Nat had known then that she was more than what he admitted. She was his could have been... Being a spy Nat understood that.

She had to leave, every sense in her body told her to stand up and crawl baçk out the window but she turned the page. She ran her fingers over the unfinished drawing of her. It wasn't just a portrait but a full picture of her. In this book she could delve into Steve's mind and here she was with the rest of them.

The book dropped from her hands as she grabbed a pistol out of the holster on her hip. The blue, red, and white shield was inches away from her face when Steve pulled back. She blamed the wine for her dulled reflexes. His eyes were locked on and hers while she lowered her gun. The silence between them tangible, she had wanted to be out of here before he came back. Steve had a tendency to change her plans, even the well laid out ones.

“What are you doing here Nat?" He asked setting his shield against the nearest wall. She crouched down and fixed his sketch book before placing it on the table next to the empty bottle of wine. "You left, disappeared Nat. Clint has been going crazy looking for you."

"He knows better than that.” She said with a shrug of her shoulders as she looked around at her surroundings again.

"What are you doing here Nat?" He asked again. She saw all the hurt in his eyes, heard it in his voice. It was slight but she caught it, like she caught everything. How had she missed what had been staring her in the face. She shouldn't have come here.

She shook her head and said nothing as she made her way towards the window. Steve reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her before she could escape him.

"I'm going to need an answer before you go." He said staring down at her.

"Do you think of me?" She was completely off her game with those blue eyes burrowing into her skin. He let her go, taken back by her question. It was suddenly very important for her to know the answer before she left. "Its an easy question Cap'n. Do you think about me?" She echoed. His eyes shot to the sketch book and the page she was on. Her black and white double stared at the both of them. There was betrayal in his eyes, Nat knew she had crossed a line, but what else did she have to do.

"Sometimes." He admitted his eyes down cast.