#stellasstarrywintersky

[writing-for-marvel]

Take Me Home

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky starts fiddling with his dog tags while out with your friends.

Prompt: comforting one another

Warnings: mentions of Bucky’s past trauma but not detailed

Word count: 1.0k

A/N: this is my submission for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event 💜 just a short fic as I get back into writing. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

You’re sure Bucky doesn’t even realise that he’s doing it, but it signals as clearly as if he had shot up a flare that he needs you.

The fingers of his flesh hand fiddle with the metal of his dog tags absentmindedly, nervously, and you can see by the distant gaze of his eyes that he has completely checked out of the conversation.

In all the time you have known Bucky, you’ve been aware of his short social battery, and though some people in your life put it down as him being ‘grumpy’, you know the real root cause is much deeper than him simply liking to keep to himself.

Making your way across the room, eyes watching him retreat even further into himself and turning over the dog tag with his fingers with every additional input of the conversation he had been involved with, your heart descends deeper into the cavernous pit his clear suffering is carving into your stomach.

You know Bucky well enough that he’ll suffer through this internal anguish because he thinks you want to stay at this gathering with your friends, rather than coming to find you right away so you can both retreat into the comfort of your shared apartment.

But you’re not about to let him endure this torment for a second longer.

“Hey guys, sorry to interrupt.” You cut across the active conversation, putting your arm around Bucky’s waist, snuggling up to his side, really not that remorseful about disturbing their discussion when you know the outcome will relieve your love of his pain. “My tummy isn’t feeling that great, Buck, do you mind taking me home?”

There is relief mixed with genuine concern for you in his baby blues when these words come out of your mouth that somehow make you love him even more - he’s currently bearing the brunt of his own pain for you, but the moment you mention a made up illness he’s more worried about your health than his own.

Bucky’s arms snake around you, finally releasing his fidgeting hold on his dog tags, as he places a gentle kiss to your temple.

“Of course my love.” Bucky says, only letting you go for a brief moment as you both say proper goodbyes to your friends, before he intertwines his fingers with yours and leads you out the door to start the short walk to your apartment.

It’s chilly outside the restaurant, a soft breeze making you shiver, and Bucky doesn’t hesitate to shrug off his jacket and place it around your bare shoulders.

Ever the gentleman your thoughtful, doting boyfriend is.

“Do you think it was something you ate?” It’s genuinely sweet how naive he can be sometimes, but you are also aware that it comes from a place of trauma where his brain can’t make the connection that anyone would do something selflessly for him simply because they love him.

“Bucky, I’m feeling fine.”

“But your tummy.”

“I could see you had used all of your social battery, and I know you don’t like to be the reason we leave places early, so I made it up.” He stops dead in the street. There’s a moment, a couple short breaths, when Bucky simply looks at you with wide, affectionate eyes, as if it’s taking him a moment to process what you have done for him.

“You made it up?” It’s not an accusatory tone, instead one that almost sounds astonished. You nod with a small smile. “So I didn’t have to be the reason we left?”

“Mhmm. I only want to be out places when we both want to be there. There is no reason for you to feel uncomfortable and have to endure that for me.” You caress his cheek, feeling the stubble on his jaw as he leans into your gentle touch.

“But darling-” He starts, but you trace your thumb over his bottom lip as a distraction and to interrupt, not to be rude, but to show Bucky you don’t play when it comes to his safety and comfort.

“No buts Buck. We’re in this together, you and me. If the roles were reversed, and you knew I was feeling out of place like that, would you have let me stay?”

His lips curl inward slightly, involuntarily, in a way you have come to know occurs when he doesn’t want to admit he’s in the wrong. Without speaking, with just a grateful look that communicates more than he could articulate with words, he kisses you ardently in the middle of the sidewalk.

“You don’t have to hide how you feel from me. I love every part of you, even the parts you try hiding away from the world. You’re safe with me.” Placing your hand on his chest, his eyes regard you with adoration - you’re not sure what thoughts are racing through his mind, but you can see the cogs turning behind his pupils.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Bucky, when are you going to learn that unconditional love means no strings attached? You deserve to be loved wholeheartedly for exactly who you are. And I promise to do just that, for the rest of my life.” You can feel his heartbeat quicken underneath the pads of your fingers.

He encompasses your hand in both of his, leans forward and speaks with a low tone, for your ears only.

“I love you too. I promise, I’m really gonna try to do better with communicating how I feel. Old habits are hard to break, but I really would do anything for you.”

With that, Bucky pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulder, like you’re his sturdy anchor grounding him as he tries to navigate the choppy, rough sea which has been his life. As you continue home, the weight of the evening slips away, replaced by the comforting feeling that regardless how traumatic his life has been up until now, you would always be a safe place for him to come back home to.

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[navybrat817]

Cooking Together

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky asks you to cook a meal with him.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Fluff, longing, pining, canon divergent neighbor AU, flirting of sorts, mention of HYDRA, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: Short and sweet for @stellar-solar-flare’s Starry Winter Sky Event! I went with cooking together and Neighbor AU as a small expansion of this nonsense. February has had some lingering January energy, and I hope you enjoy what I was able to write! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

If you asked Bucky if he thought he was a good cook, he’d say he was decent. He retained some of what his mom taught him many years ago and he carefully followed recipes once he was completely free of HYDRA. It was admittedly a bit of a rough go at first. Being able to choose what he could eat was a foreign concept after he didn't have the choice for so long. It got better each day. Every single meal he got to reclaim a piece of himself by making the choice of what he did and didn’t want.

Until today, he always cooked alone.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” you smiled, graciously accepting the apron he handed you.

Bucky had moved into the building a few months ago and you lived across the hall. As far as neighbors went, you were the best. Since day one, you always greeted him with a smile and a kind word. You never played your music too loud or disturbed anyone. Alpine adored you, which told him everything he needed to know since she was the best judge of character. And you never once objected to looking out for her when he had to leave for a mission.

Out of paranoia, he left harmless little “traps” to see if you'd snoop through anything the very first time you went over. Nothing that would hurt you or draw your attention, of course, but something that would let him know if anyone tampered with anything. You didn't. You were a genuinely good and respectful person, and that made him trust you more.

“Thanks for accepting the invitation. And allow me,” he offered, stepping behind you to help you tie it. His fingers lingered on the fabric and he took the moment to inhale your sweet scent before he stepped away. He didn't want to be a creep. “And it’s the least I could do since you offered to watch Alpine. Again.”

“I love watching her. She’s wonderful.”

The photos you sent were something he always looked forward to when he was away. Some of the captions you added made him laugh and smile. His favorite was a selfie you took with Alpine’s cheek against yours. He saved it as “my girls”, which you weren’t aware of.

Because you technically weren’t his girl.

“Well, she adores you,” Bucky smiled. He adored you, too. It stunned him when he found out you were single, and he was selfishly thankful for that. 

“I’ll have to get her another toy,” you said, your lips curling in a small smile. “If that’s okay with you.”

He laughed, a warm and easy sound. “Between the two of us, she’s spoiled rotten and she wouldn’t want it any other way.”

He never expected to be a cat dad, but life surprised him. In fact, it also surprised him that Alpine wasn’t camping out nearby or brushing against one of your legs. She was a smart cat and likely somehow sensed that he wanted alone time with you.

“Well, she deserves it,” you winked before things went quiet.

One of the nice things about hanging out with you was that he didn't mind any bouts of silence. They didn’t feel awkward or tense. In those quiet moments and stolen glances he felt like he had the best conversations with you. He was happy and felt safe being in the same space as you.

“You know,” Bucky began as he set the ingredients on the counter. He lucked out by having a decent sized kitchen since he took up a lot of space. “If I was a better neighbor, I would've just cooked a meal for you while you relaxed.”

It felt romantic for the two of you to cook together, but you weren't together and now he felt like an idiot. A gentleman would've made you a meal and pampered you. Or take you out for a nice meal. He hadn’t dressed up, opting for his jeans and a trademark Henley while you wore a sundress that had his mind racing with both sweet and filthy images. He didn't have flowers for you either.

His “game”, as Sam would say, was rusty.

“You're a great neighbor, Bucky. The best neighbor I’ve had,” you defended. He tried to be a good neighbor and person. A minor way to make up for some of his forced wrongdoings. “And cooking something together is fun! We could even try something at my place next week if you'd like.”

Bucky almost knocked the salt over, his eyes wide. “Really?” You were inviting him over to do this again?

“Yeah, really,” you replied, taking a moment to scan the simple recipe in the cookbook. You always had the cutest expression when you concentrated on something, and he didn’t want to choose something too difficult for the first meal. “We can take turns picking things out to try and trade off cooking at your place and mine. You can even bring Alpine over if you want.”

He suddenly had the image of you in his arms, dancing around the kitchen as you both waited for a meal in the oven to cook. Soft music, low lighting, his hands on your hips, and a tender smile on your face. Stealing a gentle kiss and keeping his eyes open only for a moment so he could see for himself that it wasn't a dream.

“Yeah,” he breathed, pulling his hair back in a ponytail and washing his hands to distract himself from his thoughts. “I’d really like that.”

“Great,” you exhaled. His heart beat faster when he caught you staring. He liked to pretend the look in your eyes was longing. “Sorry. You just…” you cleared your throat and gestured to his head. “You have really nice hair.”

The compliment had his heart racing even faster. “I have nice hair?” he asked. Your fingers would feel amazing in his hair.

You ducked your head for a moment before you met his gaze with a soft smile. “Yeah, you do.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back, his shoulder brushing yours when he stood beside you. Electricity lightly cracked between you. Did you feel it, too? “Um, I peeled the carrots before you got here. Would you like to cut them?”

“Oh, I think you’re better with a knife than I am,” you giggled.

He puffed his chest out and twirled the knife he selected in his hand without thinking about it. Part of him was showing off because, well, he wanted you to stare again. “How about I help you?”

“Help me? How?” you asked.

“Here.” He placed the knife in your hand and stood behind you once he had the carrots on the cutting board. “I’m going to preface this by saying I’m far from an expert, but I usually cut them into decent sized pieces before I dice them.”

“I trust your judgement,” you said, glancing over your shoulder. Your faces were close enough that he could kiss you if he leaned in a fraction. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t take what you didn’t offer.

Carefully placing his hands over yours once you faced forward, he felt that electricity crackle again as he helped guide you. He angled his hips so he didn’t press against you, but still stayed close. “See? You’re a natural,” he whispered against your ear when you made the first cut through the vegetable.

He heard the hitch in your breath and how your blood rushed faster in your veins. He felt your skin warm under his touch as you cut the next piece. He also caught the slight tremble that went through your frame when his grip tightened, but he didn’t sense any fear. He hadn't detected any sort of fear or disgust since he came into your life.

But what he sensed in this very moment was excitement.

“Thanks, Bucky,” you whispered back. The way you spoke his name was breathy, beautiful, and he longed to hear that again. “You’re a great teacher.”

“I’m not,” he said, thankful your back was to him so you wouldn’t see the pink that tinted his cheeks. “But I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, you are,” you stated, tempting him to turn your head toward him to kiss you. If he did that and you stabbed him, he wouldn’t blame you or hold it against you. “And Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you invited me over,” you said.

He stopped himself from putting his face in the crook of your neck. “I am, too,” he said, smiling to himself as he helped you finish up. “And now that you’ve mastered the carrots, we can chop the onions.”

“Onions? Oh, no,” you groaned playfully.

As the sound of both of you laughing a second later filled the room, Bucky was glad he went with his gut and asked for you two to cook together.

And maybe before the night was over, he’d ask you out on a date and prove to himself that his game wasn't completely hopeless.

I wonder just how he'll ask you out! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[stellar-solar-flare]

Thank you for the signal boost, Aspen!

Stella's Starry Winter Sky

Welcome to the Stella’s Starry Winter Sky Event! This event is a celebration of our lovely Cap Quartet: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff.

Rules! (And other important stuff):

As I run a 18+ only blog, this challenge is only for users that are at least 18 years old.

You can participate either by 1) writing a fic using any of the prompts below, 2) sending one or more of the prompts below to me to request a fic. For requests, you can also include any further ideas you’d like to see in the finished fic, as long as your request has at least one of the prompts below.

This challenge is about celebrating the Cap Quartet, so please make at least one member of the Cap Quartet a central part of your fic.

Challenge will run from Monday 9th of December 2024 to Friday 28th of February 2025. No late submissions will be accepted. You can start sending in requests as soon as you see this post, but post any fics partaking the challenge on Monday 9th of December the earliest.

You can choose a maximum one thing from each prompt category, but you can skip categories / only use one thing. You can write as many fics as you’d like and don’t need to claim prompts – however, if you submit a request to me, only one per person, please.

Please use #stellasstarrywintersky when posting the fic; linking the challenge is appreciated, and you can also tag me if you'd like.

This challenge accepts both ”Character x Reader” and ”Character x OC” fics. If you write an OC fic, please add a link to an OC introduction post or provide all the necessary information in your fic. For requests, I only accept my OCs. You can use multiple characters in the fic and even have a ”Character x Character” pairing as a side pairing – so for example, a Steve x Reader fic with a Bucky/Nat side pairing.

What is not allowed in this challenge? No full dark (appropriately tagged soft!dark is welcome, I leave the it to the author to decide where the line goes), no cheating/infidelity, no minor characters in romantic or sexual situations, no non-con (dub-con is fine as long as it’s tagged – again, the line is at author’s discretion), no gore (MCU canon level violence is fine), no incest/bestiality/watersports/similar kinks. Ask if you are unsure.

Scenarios/tropes:  

birthday

blind date

chaotic shenanigans

cooking together

comforting one another

everyone ships it

exploring something new in bed together

fake marriage

friendly competition

hurt/comfort

idiots in love

it was supposed to be an one night stand

knight in shining armor

misunderstandings

movie night

moving in/out

night out

Reader is the newest Avenger

shopping together

soulmarks

Tony’s party

tending the other’s wounds

undercover

Valentine’s Day

Winter Holidays

AUs (you don’t need to choose an AU – canon-adjacent is fine):

Academia AU

Coffee Shop AU

Everyone Lives AU

Fairytale AU

Fantasy AU

Lumberjack AU

Medieval AU

Mob AU

Neighbor AU

Omegaverse AU

Sci-fi AU

Soulmate AU

Quotes:

”Is that what you’re wearing?”

”Come on, it’s going to be alright.”

”I really thought it’d be different this time.”

”But... how?”

”We shouldn’t.”

”Tell me about it.”

”That’s just disgustingly wholesome.”

”I... I’ll just go.”

”I dare you.”

”You’re a dead man.”

”Would you really do that for me?”

”At your service.”

”In another lifetime.”

”You look like a corpse.”

”I am praying for the sweet release of death.”

”It’s not your fault.”

”I was just wondering.”

”My treat.”

“I’m here.”

“I love you."

Words:

abate – to become less intense

alacritous – eager and cheerfully enthusiastic towards a task

benevolent – kind, good, well-meaning

capricious – someone who changes their mood and behavior suddenly/frequently

conjecture – an opinion that is formed without all the necessary information

deference – humility, submission, respect

eftsoons – an old-fashioned way to say ’soon afterward’

exigence – an urgent matter (need/demand)

fervor – strong/sincere/intense feelings

kindle – to set on fire

kith – one’s social circle (friends and relations and acquaintances)

mellifluous – something that sounds sweet and is pleasant to hear

nefarious – unethical, wicked, criminal

obdurate – stubborn about one’s opinions

petrichor – the pleasant smell of ground when it’s rained on

quixotic – something that is very impractical and idealistic

quell – to put an end to disorder by the use of force

spurious – something that is false or fake, not what it seems to be

tacit – understood without explicitly saying it out loud

ubiquitous – something that appears to be everywhere

WILDCARD ROUND!

Since this is my birthday event too – Happy Birthday to me on 9th of Dec! – you can also participate to this via The Wildcard Round. This one is all about me me me.

You can ask questions or request blurbs/headcanons/missing scenes/drabbles about any of my existing fics. (This includes stuff I've teased here but haven't yet published). My tumblr masterlist is HERE – my longfics are on AO3 HERE.

If you choose this option, you don’t have to heed to the prompt list – but you can use it, if you want to. On this round, you can send in more than one request/question!

The rules about about what content is accepted also apply here. I reserve the right to not write anything that makes me uncomfortable or doesn't spark the muse.

WELCOME! I look forward to your entries and requests.

[wild-typo-turtle]

Home for the Holidays - Part 1 of 3

On your way home from work, you see a mysterious door. And since you're the only one who can see it, there's really only one call you can make...

A Steve Rogers x Reader fic for @stellar-solar-flare Stella's Starry Winter Sky Challenge!

Rating: T

Themes: Meet-cute, Reader has a secret, other worlds

Home for the Holidays - Part 1

The door wasn't much to look at, actually.

You stared at it, your hands clutching the cup of steaming hot chocolate that had been your indulgence as you'd closed down the bookstore. Your breath plumed out into the night, but you barely noticed how cold it was. Or how dark - it was the solstice, the darkest night of the year, and the air around you was black and frozen.

There was a door.

You knew you'd never seen it before. You crossed this park almost every day, twice a day: once on your way to work, once on your way home. You had certainly never seen a door standing there all by itself with no walls around it. 

You weren't sure that anyone else could see it. You stood there gaping at it, but no one else seemed to be. 

You pulled your phone from your pocket, pretending to be absorbed in it as you slowly approached the door.

It was an old door. The wood was weathered and splintered; it had been neglected. The handle, also wood, was a round knob, worn smooth and shiny with years and hands. It looked as though it belonged in a barn, as if opening it would take you into a feed room or a tack room.

Your phone lit up, and you really did look down at it that time.

Ben: Done with rehearsal. Doing anything?

You could just walk away. You could head home, and you could text Ben back when you got there. And his blessedly uncomplicated self could come over and you could enjoy a few hours with him before it was time to go to sleep. Maybe he'd stay the night, and you could get breakfast in the morning at the little cafe down the street that made the best cinnamon raisin bread.

But on the other hand…

There was that door.

The door where there shouldn't be a door. The door that no one could see but you.

Were you losing it? Were you hallucinating?

But then you noticed something else. Everyone walking past the door walked around it, deliberately avoiding the obstacle. On some level, they knew it was there. 

You weren't crazy.

And as you looked at it, you remembered something you'd seen on the news a few months ago. Something about a tip line for unusual occurrences in New York.

Back to your phone. And it was an easy search to find the number, and a woman's voice answered after only one ring. 

“Avengers Initiative, how may I assist you?”

“Yes, um…” You cleared your throat. “Um. Hi. There's…there's this door…”

-~-~-

They had asked you to wait until they arrived, assuring you that it wouldn’t be long. And so you found yourself an empty bench within sight of the door, huddled in your coat and sipping on your cooling hot chocolate, your breath pluming out in clouds in the clear and frosty air. For all the bustle in the park, it was quiet, a perfect winter night at the height of the cold and the dark. 

You watched the door. Nothing happened.

People kept walking around it absently. You watched their feet for something to do as you waited; they seemed to feel the door’s presence about ten feet away, their steps slowly angling around it. Far enough that the motion did not need to be sudden or jerky; it was subtle, smooth, easy not to notice. And no one did - even those few whose heads were high, looking forward and not buried in their phones - seemed unaware that they had adjusted their paths.

It was quiet, and that made it easy to hear the new footsteps. They crunched briskly through the snow, and you turned away from the door to see them coming towards you.

Eek.

You’d figured the Avengers would send some sort of preliminary team - the equivalent of a beat cop, just to check things out and make sure you weren’t lying. But no, they had sent the big guns, faces you’d only seen on television and the Internet, striding toward you and ignoring the gasps and stares that greeted them and that followed in their wake.

Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow.

Sam Wilson, the Falcon.

Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier. 

And Steve Rogers himself. Captain America, at the head of the group. 

It was a good thing you’d finished the hot chocolate several minutes ago. It would have ended up splattered on the ground.

You had about thirty seconds before they reached you, and you frantically tried to gather your composure. You stood up and brushed off your coat; you threw away your empty cup in the garbage can next to your bench. You’d given the woman on the phone your name, but they wouldn’t know what you looked like, you would need to - 

Oh. They were coming straight for you.

You gulped as they came up to you. Rogers gave you a nod of greeting; he was the only one to do so. The rest of them were busy scanning the park; their postures said they were relaxed, but their faces maintained alertness, looking for any and every possible threat. 

“Ma’am,” he said politely. “Thank you for waiting for us.”

“I, uh - um, yeah, no trouble,” you fumbled. “I wasn’t…wasn’t expecting…”

“Oh, us?” He grinned, chuckling, as you flapped your hand at him and his teammates. “Well, yeah. Normally we wouldn’t come right away, but we verified your report at the Tower. It’s not anything that would have tripped up our early detection systems, but once we looked for it, you’re absolutely right. There’s definitely something going on here. So we called in the cavalry.”

You couldn’t help breathing a sigh of relief at the confirmation that you hadn’t lost your mind. Rogers saw it, and his grin softened a little bit.

“It’s okay,” he said. “You did the right thing by calling us in. This is exactly why the A.I. even exists.”  

You nodded mutely, but you weren't sure if Rogers saw it. He was already turning to his teammates, Wilson and Romanov, his brow lifting in inquiry as Barnes continued surveilling the park.

“Anything?”

Romanov was holding some kind of tablet, and she was poking at the screen in unmistakable frustration. “Something, but that's about all I can tell you,” she grumbled. “It's like a fly in your house. You know it's there, but finding it's a bitch.”

Captain Rogers looked back at you, and the expression on his face was heavy. “Look, I'm sorry,” he began, and you did not like the sound of that. “I'd do it, normally. One of us would. But since you're the only one who can see it…”

“He's asking you to open the door,” Barnes said, not even turning back to look at you. “And he would do it, the stupid punk.”

Rogers let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan, a grumble, and a snarl - but you noticed that he didn’t attempt to deny what Barnes had said. Either part of it.

You looked at him, your insides trembling, and he laid a hand - a big, strong hand, and you were certainly noticing those details - on your shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said, very quietly. “If you don’t want to, we can find another way. There are people we can call.”

People, but those people hadn’t come with him, and there was probably a reason for that. They would take time to arrive, and who knew what would happen while they were getting here?

You were no hero. You worked in a bookstore, you lived alone with your cat, and the closest thing you had to a romantic relationship was a friends-with-benefits actor. You weren’t like these people. 

But maybe you could be, just for one night.

You squared your shoulders, looking up at Rogers. 

“I’ll do it.”

-~-~-

They made a plan. And after they’d done so, more agents arrived, garden-variety this time, cordoning off a circle around the door and setting up a perimeter of barriers and screens. You were still the only one who could see it - Rogers had checked with everyone as they’d arrived - but they’d given you some plastic stakes to mark where it was. Everything was terribly efficient, and it was easy to forget the chill in the air with the bustle of activity. You stood huddled in your coat, watching, until Rogers waved you over to a section of the perimeter. It was draped on three sides with tarps, creating a small tent, and someone had set up a little portable heater that was doing an excellent job of warming up the space. 

As you got there, sighing happily at the heat, you noticed that Rogers was holding what looked like a climbing harness and a coil of rope. 

“Ever worn one of these?” he asked. When you shook your head, he continued. “Nothing to it - just a safety precaution. We’ll have the rope attached to the harness and we’ll secure it here. That way if something tries to pull you into - uh, well, wherever that door goes - we can get you out of the way fast.”

You nodded, trying not to think about being pulled into wherever that door goes. Instead you let Rogers help you into the harness, easing it over your coat and helping you tighten the straps, and tying the rope to a metal ring on the back. 

And then, what seemed like a mere second later, you were standing in front of the door.

Behind you, Rogers and Barnes were holding onto the rope. The sight of the two supersoldiers didn’t exactly banish the butterflies in your stomach, but their solid forms did inspire at least a little bit of confidence. They weren’t going to let you go anywhere.

You offered Rogers a small, trembly smile, before you turned back to face the door. Romanov was right beside you, and she nodded at you. Just once - but it was, in its way, just as reassuring as the two men holding the rope. You got the impression that there was very little she couldn’t handle.

“You ready?” she said softly. 

Off to your right, Wilson was standing with his wings extended. He was the backup plan: if Rogers and Barnes lost hold of the rope, he would dive in and try to grab you before you were pulled in too far. You were no hero, and yet they were treating you as if your life was just as precious as theirs. 

Well. Perhaps that was what made a hero, a hero.

In answer to Romanov’s question, you shuffled forward two steps and placed your hand on the doorknob.

It was cold. Ice cold, and you hissed as the chill bit at your skin even through your thick mitten. Your teeth chattered, and you stumbled back a step, as Romanov caught you. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you gritted out. “Just - ‘s just cold.”     

But you were all right. And now that you were braced for it, it wasn’t as bad when you touched the knob again. You twisted it, and it moved easily in your hand, and the door fell open.

You were not sure what you’d been expecting. But it definitely had not been an older gentleman standing on the other side of the door. 

He didn’t move. 

His hair was an ashy, golden white - a color that made you certain he had been as blond as Steve Rogers in his youth. He was dressed in brilliant green, a tunic and trousers and a thick cloak, green with accents of gold and red. A thin golden circlet sat on his brow, and as you looked at him, he bent, sweeping into a deep bow that almost left him lying flat upon the ground.

It was winter beyond the door, too. A light snow was falling, and it was piled up high around the gentleman’s brown boots. 

No one spoke. No one moved. Everyone was staring at the strange man as he straightened from his bow, and looked straight at you.

“Your Royal Highness.”

Continue to Part 2!

[stellar-solar-flare]

For your event!!!

Steve + Mob AU + ”Would you really do that for me?” + nefarious

Thank you ☺️❤️

Thank you for sending in a prompt to my event, Siri! This took a bit of a turn in my head but I hope you still enjoy it. I had a lot of fun writing it.

Malogranatum | S. R.

soft dark!Avenger!Steve Rogers x mob boss!Reader | 2,417 words.

Explicit - 18+ only. Dark romance with themes of obsessive love. AU - canon divergence & mob themes.

Story Content Warnings: Explicit sexual fantasies, obsessive/unhealthy dynamics, cold-blooded violence, murder, organized crime, discussions of human trafficking / modern slavery, references to mythology including biblical mythology, soft dark Steve Rogers, soft dark Reader.

Read the tags and warnings and do not proceed if anything about them upsets you. Your media consumption is your responsibility.

Reader is female, no description of appearance beyond a mention of her wearing heels, dress, and makeup. No use of Y/N. I imagine she's somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties, about the same age as Steve - but it isn't mentioned in the text.

Notes: There is something about the dark side of canon Steve that continues to enchant me, and my take on the prompt I got was born out of that curiosity. I enjoyed playing with a darker Reader character and the themes of a more obsessive, unhealthier love that is still born out of shared views of the world. I hope you enjoy, and of course, I am always excited to hear from you so please leave a comment if you can spare the time and energy.

Malogranatum is one of the Latin forms of the word 'pomegranate'

I do not own anything Marvel related. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

No one except you could look so perfectly nonchalant when stepping over a dead body while wearing five-inch designer heels.

A woman like you didn’t belong in a dump like this — it had hardly been a three-star hotel when it had been in business use, and what was left now had been deemed unsafe years ago. Now, the lobby was musty and covered in dust and grime, and now, thanks to Steve himself, blood.

As always, you were immaculate; no smudge on your blood-red lipstick, no stray hairs sticking out of your hairdo. A trench coat was draped over your shoulders, revealing a well-tailored dress underneath as you walked towards Steve. You could’ve as well been on your way to attend some upper-crust cocktail party.

“I should’ve known you’d come,” Steve said through gritted teeth.

Your security detail — a colossal blond man whom Steve had never heard utter a word, dressed in a sharp suit that seemed to only highlight his bruteness — stopped behind the body you’d just stepped over. The body was resting with his face down, and the man turned it over with his foot.

Steve looked away. His vision was still flashing in red, wine, maroon. Behind the shield that was fastened onto his button-down-covered arm, he clenched his fist tighter. He, too, was in civilian clothes — it hadn’t been intended to come down to an ambush at all, let alone with just him with no backup. It had been supposed to be a simple stakeout, a covert operation that’d determine if he would come back with reinforcements.

It hadn’t been intended to come down to a dead body and another at the brink of it.  

“I keep tabs on my enemies,” you said, glancing at the still-living man on the floor — now reduced to a whimpering mess curled up in a fetal position on the filthy rug.

“Me included?” Steve scoffed.

“Are we enemies, Captain Rogers?” you said as you stepped closer to him. “I see no reason why we should be.”

“I could have you dragged into the Tower just for the fact that you are here.”

A half-smile curved your lip up. The expensive, intoxicating note of your perfume drifted up Steve’s nose as you reached him. He inhaled it; it covered the thick iron stench of blood.

Blood that still dripped from the edge of the shield that he’d strapped back onto his arm.

“Again? If not even Romanoff can find anything to incriminate me… I’m starting to think you have a crush on me, to be so eager to lock me into an interrogation room and get up, close, and personal.”

It certainly wasn’t a crush, whatever it was that kept him up at night ever since he had started running into you.

“What about this situation is funny to you?”

“In my line of work, you develop quite the sense of humor,” you chuckled.

“Work, you call it?” Steve said, and you gave him a smile full of secrets.

“Pays the bills,” you said, shrugging as you craned your neck to examine the still-breathing man on the ground.

His whimpers had turned into gargled sobs, his shoulders shaking as if he was having some sort of seizure. Steve still didn’t know how hard he had hit him — he had caught the sight of him, standing here and laughing with his henchman, and everything had gone blind, scorching white, a supernova burning down everything from its path.

“What are you here for? I imagine a businesswoman such as you is much too busy to simply be here to chitchat. Did you come to gloat?”

“And why would I do that, when you have solved a pesky problem for me,” you said. “Have been trying to figure out a way to take him out of the game without a risk for collateral damage.”

“To you?” he replied, even as he knew what you were talking about by the tension of your jaw.

“To them,” you said, nudging your head up towards the ceiling.

He wasn’t sure if the people had heard the commotion downstairs — but even if they had, they wouldn’t have dared to ask questions. Steve wasn’t sure how many had been lured in in total, how many had already been sold to the highest bidder, and the thought summoned a newfound cloud of red mist into his head.

“Well aren’t you the beacon of morality, defender of the innocents,” Steve scoffed. “I know how red your hands are. I may not be able to prove it but I know.”

In reply, you rested your eyes on the bloodied shield and the bruises, already healing, on Steve’s knuckles, and he gritted his teeth hard enough to bite through iron.

“What are you doing here?” he continued, grasping for some edge into his voice.

He stepped closer to you, leaning into your personal space, and he heard your security detail shift before you held out a hand, signaling the bodyguard to stand down.

You looked at Steve, your eyes bright, your mouth slightly parted, and Steve remembered the Sunday school stories about the beauty of fallen angels, of the temptation of sin, of the redness of that cursed apple.

How sweet would the first bite of damnation taste on his tongue?

“I’m here to propose a deal,” you said, as if Steve’s presence or the violence that brimmed in his body, threatening to spill over, was having no effect on you at all.

“A deal?” Steve raised his brow. “Let me take a wild guess. You make this go away, and I become your little puppet.”

“I am simply offering to take out your trash,” you said, a smirk dancing on your lips. “No strings attached.”

“What do you get out of it?” he said, and you raised your brow in turn.

“You get to keep doing what you’re doing. He’s not the only one with similar ambitions; there is yet bigger fish in the sea. And I cannot… devote all my attention to this matter, as I do have my business to run.”

“And conveniently, less hands grasping whatever cake it is you’re splitting among yourselves in the shadows means a bigger slice for you. I’m supposed to believe you’re some sort of a Robin Hood, huh?”

The words had a bite to them, but he had poured over your case enough times to know that while you were no moral beacon, no Robin Hood, you did have a code of ethics. It certainly didn’t align with the moral of the law, but the compass that guided you was there. If the intel was right on you, you were good at avoiding what you had called collateral damage.

A sudden chill overtook your features.

“You know there are lines I do not cross,” you said.

Breathtaking. Beautiful, and treacherous, like the night itself. Steve swallowed past his dry throat. He shouldn’t be entertaining any of this, and whatever it was that had gotten him so tangled with you, he should nip it in the bud.

Too late for that.

“He should get a fair trial just like anyone else,” Steve said to bring his thoughts back to the matter at hand. “Regardless of if he’s a rabid animal or not.”

You tilted your head, quirking your brow. Steve forced his eyes to stay away from the tendons of your neck, forced himself not to wonder if the column of your throat held places that’d make you moan if he feathered them with his lips.

“Oh no, Rogers. He is quite human. No other species on earth is capable of such calculated cruelty.”

You huffed as if the thought amused you, and Steve knew that you were right. Perhaps that was what today had been. His cup finally spilling over, and all the lava that had gathered over the decades taking down everything that laid on its path.

“And I will face whatever consequences that come for me, too,” Steve continued to avoid acknowledging your words.

He tried to push the sound of breaking bone out of his head, tried to pretend there hadn’t been a part of him that had cherished every punch, gloried in the righteous violence. The SHIELD had been on these bastards for months on end, and he remembered every disgusting detail of their deeds. And when he had finally been given a chance to strike, alone, he had found himself desiring not for justice but for revenge.

“They’ll toss you onto the Raft,” you said. “And what for? For dishing this scum a small portion of what he’s been serving to others.”

Steve jolted; victory flashed in your eyes as he did.

“How do you —”

“I told you, Rogers, I keep tabs on my enemies,” you replied.

“I thought you said we are not enemies.”

“I wasn’t talking about you,” you said, and for a moment, your face grew entirely serious. “There is something fishy going on at SHIELD. I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s there.”

Steve drew a breath at that. The warning… He didn’t want to admit it but something about it seemed to hum in tune with some instinctual thought in the back of his head.

“You have people on the inside.”

“You say that like you’re surprised,” you said, and the smile was back.

“I am not,” he said, the words delivered with the smallest hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth.

You took a step closer, almost close enough for your chest to brush against his. You tilted your head softly to the side, as you spoke quietly almost into his lips, and something just as all-consuming as the rage he had felt earlier shot through his veins. He could barely stop himself from leaning closer, reaching for your mouth with his, as your perfume wrapped around him.

“Our interests align, Rogers,” you breathed. “I would hate seeing my plans fall apart just because of something like him. An unfortunate incident; a little slip-up; an occupational hazard, almost. They might give him a fair trial but you will never get one. Is he really worth throwing away all the good deeds you could do, all the lives you are yet to save so you can rot on the Raft in martyrdom?”

An ice-cold current in Steve recognized the logic; agreed with it. The man that he struck down would never give someone else anything resembling fair — why should he himself get anything better?

“Would you really do that for me?” he asked.

“You look good with blood on your face,” you whispered as if it explained everything, and maybe it did.

Your hand rose slowly up, your warm fingertips gently brushing along the line of Steve’s jaw. A fresh whiff of your perfume reached his nose — musk, dark flowery notes, pomegranates — and it was the part of him that had walked through the battlefields of the Second World War and lived that made the decision.

He nodded, and your eyes sparkled with dark light.

The crisp taste of apple filled his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than he wanted it — to grab the wrist of the hand that was touching him and pull you into a crushing kiss. He yearned for all the ways he could make you sing his name, make you drip and beg and cry out for him — to make you burn in the raging turmoil of lust that had consumed him these past months. He wanted to keep you on the knife-sharp edge between desperation and bliss, he wanted you to ride him with a blade pressed against his throat, he wanted to be deemed worthy of your bed and worthy of sinking himself all the way to the hilt inside you.

Oh, how sweet it would be to fall from grace just to have a taste of you.

“Give me twenty minutes and call in the cavalry,” you said, and maybe you knew where his thoughts were, but nothing about your voice or your expression was betraying it.

“I got an anonymous tip,” he said, and he was still not moving away from you even as the thoughts were forming.

“I’ll have someone call your work number; untraceable, of course,” you continued. “And when you got here…”

“No trace of them; just signs of struggle and bloodstains.”

He didn’t want to feel the smile that was spreading onto his lips; he knew it didn’t reach his eyes, and he didn’t want it to. It was not a true smile — it was how a predator showed their teeth.

He should not have, and yet he didn’t find it in him to feel regret.

You took a step back and turned towards your security detail, who nodded, understanding some wordless message, and gave the whimpering man on the floor a sharp kick in the ribs. The impact was enough to turn him over — he had no strength for anything other than a pathetic gurgle — and Steve saw your brows rise just a millimeter when you looked at the bloody mess. Another one of those tiny smiles tugged your lips, and then it was gone as you reached inside your coat.

A picture of cold wrath; a goddess of destruction.

The gun you drew was a black pistol with a silencer screwed onto it; an elegant weapon, looking almost sophisticated, and yet deadly like a viper. You extended your arm with the ease of practiced routine, aiming straight between the man’s eyes, and pulled the trigger. Every movement had come with the indifference of inevitability.

You put the gun back where it had come from while your bodyguard threw the body over his shoulder and grabbed the other by the lapels of its coat — as if he was doing a task no different than dragging out two heavy bags of potatoes. He started making his way towards the door, and you turned to Steve.

There was a sleek white business card in your hand, and you slipped it into the chest pocket of Steve’s shirt. Even through the fabric, he could feel the warmth of your hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Captain Rogers,” you said, granting him one last smile of a seductress before you followed your security detail out of the door.

Steve stood there for a few minutes, staring at the new stain in the musty carpet. Then took the business card out of his pocket, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling deeply.

It smelled like you.

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[wild-typo-turtle]

Home for the Holidays - Part 2 of 3

On your way home from work, you see a mysterious door. And since you're the only one who can see it, there's really only one call you can make...

A Steve Rogers x Reader fic for @stellar-solar-flare Stella's Starry Winter Sky Challenge!

Find Part 1 Here!

Rating: T

Themes: Meet-cute, Reader has a secret, other worlds

Content Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Home for the Holidays - Part 2

They hadn’t been able to see the door, but they could see the strange gentleman. They could hear him. And even through the shock, even through the whirling of your thoughts, you could feel all of their eyes on you as the gentleman’s words echoed in the cold, crisp air.

Your Royal Highness.

They all stared at you. You stared at him.

You laughed. 

Which, to be fair, didn’t exactly do anything to get them to stop staring at you. But you couldn’t help it; it was a big, warm belly laugh, bubbling up from inside of you, bursting out into the night. It took at least a minute for you to stop, folded over with your knees on your hands, feeling the stress and tension of the mysterious door fading away.

“Sorry,” you gasped, finally able to straighten up. “Sorry. Maybe your spell got mixed up, or something? But, uh - you’ve definitely got the wrong girl, here.”

The gentleman folded his hands behind his back impassively. His pose was one of tremendous dignity, and he looked at you with one raised brow.

“Your Royal Highness, I have known you for your entire life,” he said calmly. “I have made no mistake. Your royal father bids you come home for the solstice celebrations, and has tasked me with ensuring your safe return.”

You heard a shuffling behind you, and you looked over your shoulder to see Captain Rogers slowly coming forward. His hands were raised, palm up, showing that he was unarmed.

“Hello,” he said. “Captain Steve Rogers, of the Avengers Initiative. And you are…?”

For a minute you didn’t think the gentleman was going to answer. He shifted his focus, looking Rogers up and down - and you would never be able to put it into words, but something in his face said that he was just the slightest bit impressed. That Rogers had been measured, and had not been found wanting.

“Velerius,” said the gentleman. “High Councillor to His Majesty Ethim Luminos, the Summer King of Faery.”

Rogers nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said. “And you just decided to open a door to Earth? Randomly?”

Velerius glanced at you briefly. “We are always aware of the princess’ location,” he replied. “It was a simple matter to ensure that the portal would be nearby.”

“Yes, but - “

“Excuse me.”

You’d finally gotten your voice and your breath back, and you waved a hand to catch their attention. “Hello. Hi. You missed the part where I’m not a faery princess. I work in a bookstore. Your door spell got it wrong.”

Velerius sighed - and he sounded amused. And there was a small smile on his face, and he shook his head, as if resigned to what was going to happen next.

“Your Highness,” he said gently. “I understand this is confusing for you. I know you do not recognize me, and that you do not remember your royal father. I vow that I shall explain everything as we journey. But we must depart for the Summer Court immediately in order to arrive in time for the hour of the solstice. Please. Your father has missed you these long, dark months. He is eager to see you.”

No. No. You shook your head firmly. “I don’t have a father. My parents died in a car crash years ago, they’re dead. There’s no faery king waiting for me, my dad is dead.”

Your voice caught on that last. It had been years, as you’d said, but the emptiness was still there inside you. Velerius closed his eyes briefly, hanging his head. 

“Your Highness, please. I swear to you that I speak the truth, and that all shall be well if you come with me to the Summer Court. It is the solstice. At the stroke of the midnight bell, the Winter Queen’s power will begin to wane and your father will be in ascendance. He needs you by his side - you, above all others.”

He was serious. Utterly serious.

A lump began to form in your throat, and you swallowed hard. “So I’m not just a princess, I’m - what?”

“The Crown Princess,” he murmured. “Firstborn child of Ethim Luminos. Heir to the throne of the Summerlands.”

It was straight out of a story. A faery lord showing up on your doorstep - well, sort of - and claiming you were a lost princess. But none of this made any sense; why were you here, if it was true? And why could you remember nothing of what he was saying?

You asked. And Velerius nodded, looking unsurprised.

“I have the answers you seek, Your Highness. Please. Come.” 

Your hands twisted, clutching at each other for lack of anything else to hold onto. Were you really contemplating going? Stepping beyond the door? There was plenty in this world that was beyond explanation - the Avengers could attest to that - but were you seriously buying into this?

“You don’t have to go.”

It was Rogers, and a second after he spoke, you felt his big hand land on your shoulder. Velerius looked like he very much wanted to argue with that statement, but with an effort, you focused on Rogers instead.

“I think I kind of do,” you whispered. “I think - I - ”

There were no words. You couldn’t say what you were feeling, what you had felt ever since you’d first seen that door. But there was something about it, something about the snow-covered lands that you could glimpse beyond Velerius…something that felt familiar.

“I’m going to go.”

It came out very soft, and you cleared your throat and repeated yourself, fully facing Velerius. “I’ll go. I’ll come with you.”

The faery lord let out a sigh of relief. “Then come, Your Highness. Quickly. Oh - and your escort, of course. If you wish it.”

Escort?

Oh.

You looked back at Rogers, and a shiver ran down your spine at the sight of him. His eyes were blazing blue, in uttermost resolve, and he was looking behind him at Barnes and Romanov. 

“Nat,” he said. “Bucky - ”

“No.”

Velerius had stepped back, presumably making room for you to step through the door, but he came forward again quickly. His gaze was iron, and he was staring first at Barnes and then at Romanov.

“They are of winter,” he said. “They shall not pass this way.” 

More words that you didn’t understand - at least on their face. But they did make a sort of sense; Bucky Barnes was the Winter Soldier, after all, or at least he had been. And Natasha Romanov had been trained by the Red Room. The coldness of those times had shaped them, left permanent scars.

Neither of them looked surprised at the statement. They just looked to Rogers, and so did you, and you could see the calculations going on behind his blue eyes.

“And me? What about me?”

Velerius nodded. “You are of summer. And the wingéd one, as well. You are both welcome to accompany Her Royal Highness.”

You wouldn’t have to go alone, then. But the words were heavy on your tongue; you couldn’t ask them to go with you. The Avengers were Earth’s defenders, and although you had far more questions than answers at this point, it didn’t seem like Velerius or any of the powers he represented were a threat.    

But Captain Rogers didn’t look like that mattered to him at all. He offered you a small, crooked smile, looking for all the world like he was about to go for a Sunday drive in the countryside.

“How ‘bout it?” he asked softly. “Wanna take a trip to the Summerlands?”

-~-~-

“So why’d you come with me?”

The question had been hanging over you ever since you’d stepped beyond the door, your boots crunching in the fresh, pristine snow. There had been a sleigh waiting for you, pulled by a team of caribou, large and comfortable with thick furs to drape over your lap. It glided swiftly through the quiet forest, white powder brushing your cheeks as it was kicked up by the caribou’s hooves.

The air was so clean here. You took in a deep breath, the wind gusting around you and prickling at your cheeks, as Rogers thought about your question. He’d seated himself beside you, facing forward, with Velerius and Sam on the opposite side.

He smiled at you, and you wondered how he could do it with so much around him that was so strange. But on the other hand, you could have easily been on Earth - the snow, the great trees. Perhaps it wasn’t so alien after all. 

“Not every day a guy gets to escort a faery princess home,” he said. “New one for us, right Sam?”

Wilson nodded. He seemed more on edge than Rogers, but perhaps that was because he was sitting next to Velerius. “For sure. Don’t think we even knew that there was a faery world that had access to Earth.”

Velerius smiled faintly. “Access. How quaint, wingéd one.”

“Uh, you can just call me Sam. That’s fine.”

The faery lord shrugged. “As you wish. The lands of Faerie are a mirror of your Earth, unspoiled and pure, as it was long ago. Always bound together, although we stand apart. The way is simple for those who know how to travel it.”

You looked up. There was no light pollution, nothing to obscure the stars from your eyes, and they glimmered as clearly as if someone had thrown a handful of diamonds across the sky. The moon shone round and full, white and beautiful.

Yeah. You were a long way from Earth.

You looked back down, meeting Velerius’ eyes. They were a soft grass green; you could make that out even in the starlight and the moonlight.

“You said you would explain,” you said.

He nodded, pausing for a moment to look over his shoulder at the driver of the sleigh. The young man in green livery murmured something that you couldn’t hear - perhaps an estimate of how much longer the journey was - and then Velerius turned back to face you.

“Your father is - ”

But that was as far as he got.

The sleigh jolted, as the caribou slid to a stop and reared up in their harnesses. They let out brays of fear, and you tumbled to the side, only saved from toppling out by Steve Rogers grabbing your arm and hauling you back. You turned to look up at him, your heart pounding, but he wasn’t looking at you - he was looking out into the forest, his eyes searching out the source of what had scared the caribou.

Hissing. Hissing. 

It started slow, and then gradually built up, louder and louder, cutting through the quiet night like arrows shot from an unseen bow. Velerius and Sam Wilson were both on their feet, and Rogers joined them a second later, letting go of your arm. 

“What is it? What’s making that sound?”

Velerius’ forehead creased. “Creatures of winter,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble. “The midnight bell has not yet tolled, and Winter’s power is still in ascendance. I had hoped we would avoid them with speed, but it seems we must make a stand here.”

At that, he drew a shining sword from nothing, as if it had been sheathed in the very air. It was a golden needle in his hand, glowing with warmth and light, and you swore you caught the faint scent of wildflowers and fresh earth. 

Once armed, the faery lord looked quickly to Rogers, and extended his free hand. “I would be most grateful for your aid in this, Captain Rogers. And in return - a boon of your choosing. For each of you,” he added, tilting his head in Sam’s direction.

A faery bargain. You’d read enough stories to wonder where the catch was, and it seemed like Rogers had read those stories too. He didn’t accept the hand right away, and once again, you could almost see his thoughts whirling.

“Anything?”   

Velerius smiled faintly, and his brow lifted in acknowledgment. “I shall not take action that would harm my king or his royal family, nor against the Summerlands nor any in Faerie. But aught else that is within my power to grant, is yours to ask.”  

It didn’t seem like there was a catch to it, although you hoped Rogers would be careful when it came time to ask for his favor. But that was a worry for another time; he was nodding, reaching to clasp the hand that Velerius was offering.

“I accept.”

They shook once, and then Velerius’ gaze grew more intent. “Quickly. They come.”

He was right; the hissing was growing louder. Rogers and Wilson jumped out of the sleigh; the driver had already left his seat, going to the head of the team of caribou and trying to calm them. You made to get out too, but Velerius stopped you with a raised hand.

“Remain here, Princess,” he said quietly. “You do not have your memories; you will be vulnerable. Do not fear. They will be easily dispatched, and then we shall continue to your home.” 

You wondered what memories he was referring to. And it didn’t sit well with you to just stay there while everyone else had something to do. But you recognized that he was right; you didn’t know anything about fighting, and it was just as likely for you to impede the defense as to help with it. And so you followed instructions: you sat down, tucking yourself in the corner, as Rogers and Wilson and Velerius consulted briefly and then formed a triangle around the sleigh.

They were just in time. The hissing grew louder yet, and your eyes made out shadowed forms slinking out from behind the trees.

They were of winter. There was no doubt in your mind as to the truth of Velerius’ words. They bristled with white fur and gleamed with white scales, and sharp white teeth peeked from their pale, rubbery lips. They were the size of bears, with the forked tongues and the fangs of snakes, and the scales covering the lower parts of their four limbs were thick and heavy. Their claws dug thick furrows in the snow as they came out from the shadows, and you saw Rogers - who was on your side of the sleigh - crouch down, the muscles of his legs tensing as he tightened his grip on his famous shield.

For their size, the creatures moved fast. One moment they were still creeping forward, and in the next, they were in a full-blown charge. You heard the caribou braying again, but then there was no time to think of it; two of them were running straight for Rogers, and one of them was slamming into his shield, and he wasn’t moving back - he was strong enough to hold against them, using the shield itself to throw the creature off of him and then turning to deal with the other one.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised. You remembered seeing clips on the news of the Avengers fighting; the shield was almost a part of Steve Rogers, an extension of himself. But it was different to see it in person, to watch him use it as both protection and weapon. He threw the shield out in an arc that slammed into first one creature and then the other, eliciting yelps of pain, and then it was back in his hand.

A flash of light caught your attention, and you turned to your right. Velerius had two of the creatures to deal with as well, and he was a marked contrast to Rogers’ fighting style. Where Rogers was focused, tense, every muscle on edge, Velerius almost seemed like he wasn’t even paying attention to the fight. The creatures approached him, and were driven back with lazy swipes of the shining sword. And although it seemed that they weren’t even in range, the proof of the hits was there on their fur in deep, dripping red slashes. But the faery lord was expending effort: there was sweat on his brow, and the set of his shoulders said that he was growing weary. 

You wondered where Wilson was. But you didn’t wonder long; the Falcon swooped in from above, grabbing each of the creatures that Velerius was battling and hauling them into the air by the scruffs of their necks. They shrieked as he carried them into the forest and disappeared from sight.

And then it was quiet again.

Four of the creatures lay on the ground, motionless. The sleigh driver was still standing with the caribou, who were gradually beginning to calm; perhaps they sensed that the danger was past. Velerius slowly pivoted in a circle, still holding his sword, looking into the forest in all directions. At last he let out a breath, and the golden sword was sheathed back in the air.

“My thanks, Captain,” he said, stepping over to Rogers. Rogers straightened up from his crouch, performing his own inspection of the surroundings.

“Are they gone? Are more coming?”

Velerius shook his head. “They travel in packs, and never does a pack violate another’s territory.” A trace of a smile danced on his lips. “I suspect your friend Wilson has taken advantage of such.”

As if summoned by his words, Wilson descended from the air, landing and folding his famous wings. “Dropped ours off a few hundred yards to the north, next to a big ol’ frozen lake,” he said. “Think the area might already have been occupied. Heard that same hissing they were making here.” 

You sighed in relief, and Rogers heard you. He turned, offering you a smile - and then his eyes went wide.

You could still hear the sound of your sigh.

The sound of hissing.

You froze. It was coming from behind you, and the hair on the back of your neck stood straight up, icy chills running down your spine. 

The men heard it too.

“Don’t move,” Rogers said softly. “Just - don’t - “

The world slowed down, as if a great clock was ticking away the seconds and each one echoed with the sound of a deep, ancient drum. 

Rogers was still holding his shield. You saw his hand shift, positioning himself to throw it. You saw Velerius, the golden light of what had to be some sort of spell beginning to gather around his hands. You saw Wilson reaching for the trigger to unfold his wings.

And none of them would be fast enough, as you heard the screech and crunch of claws digging into wood. Climbing the sleigh behind you. Hissing growing louder, and louder, and you could hear slobbering, panting breath along with it. One of the creatures that had recovered, or another that had hung back from the initial attack, it didn’t make any difference -

You finally turned around, shaking. It was there, hanging on the edge of the sleigh, peering at you with icy black eyes and licking its lips. A creature of winter, of frost and cold and hunger, of a long sleep until the spring.

It leaned in. 

And as it got close, something happened inside you.

Something summer. Sunshine and light and bounty, orchards ripe with fruit and fields bursting with flowers. Summer exploded out from you, in a burst of golden light, causing the creature to squeal as it was blinded by the fire. It lurched back, but your hand moved of its own accord, planting itself right in the center of the creature’s chest and leaving a gleaming golden scorch mark that sizzled and burned. Summer, long days from dawn to dusk, fireflies and crickets and frogs croaking next to lazy rivers. Summer made the creature howl, made it fall off the sleigh and rush away back into the forest, whimpering in pain from the burning summer you had cast against it.

Its cries lasted for a long, long time.

You stared at the hand that had glowed gold. The light was gone now, leaving your hand pale and trembling. 

And then Rogers was there, Velerius right behind him and Wilson right behind him. His blue eyes swept over you, shaking in the corner of the sleigh, and somehow he knew exactly what to do. He sat down next to you and slid his arm around your shoulders, and pulled you into a warm, strong hug that made whatever had just happened get smaller, and better, and easier to hold inside your head. It didn’t go away, but the hug made it not seem so overwhelmingly big.

He gave really, really good hugs.

When he let go, you felt like you could actually look at Velerius, and he bent into a deep, deep bow as you did so. “Princess,” he murmured. “Your power returns. Come. We must continue to the Summer Court.”

You nodded. What else could you do? But one thing was for sure - you were going to get some answers during the rest of this trip.

TBC...

[stellar-solar-flare]

Thank you for writing a fic for my event! Can't wait to read this.

Back to December

Pairing: Lumberjack! Steve Rogers x Fem! Stark reader

WC: 17,616

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, mutual pining, implied smut, mentions of breakup, mention of cheating, 18+ content, single dad Steve

Prompts: Steve + Winter holidays + Lumberjack AU + I love you

Summary: Steve and Y/n's story is one of love, heartbreak, and reconciliation. Once deeply in love, their young romance ended when Y/n’s father, Tony, interfered, believing they needed to focus on their individual futures. Devastated, Steve enlisted in the army and later became a single father to Emma, who became his anchor during difficult times.

A/n: This is my entry for @stellar-solar-flare 's Stella's Starry Winter Sky Event. Thank you Stella, for hosting the event and letting me participate, I'm still very new to writing, and with Lumberjack - single dad Steve, I got carried away. This is not beta'd. all mistakes are mine.

The train rumbled steadily along the tracks, the rhythmic clatter of wheels against steel blending with the soft hum of conversation in the carriage. Y/n sat by the window, her chin resting on her palm as she gazed out at the snow-dusted countryside. Her breath fogged the glass as the familiar landscapes of her hometown came into view, awakening memories she had thought were long buried.

It had been years since she’d been back—years spent carving out a life for herself in the towering chaos of New York City. Yet, as the train approached her destination, the pull of the past was undeniable. Every stretch of snow-covered field, every shadowed outline of the distant woods, brought back flashes of a childhood she had tucked away in the corners of her heart.

She thought of Wanda and Nat, her partners in every mischievous scheme they had cooked up in school. She thought of Bucky, with his easy laughter and protective nature. And then, unbidden, she thought of him. Steve Rogers.

The memories of Steve were vivid, sharper than she expected after all these years. She could see him as clearly as if it were yesterday — leaning against the lockers, his blond hair catching the light, his blue eyes crinkling with a smile just for her. They had been inseparable once, two halves of the same whole, navigating the trials of high school side by side. She thought of their first kiss, stolen on the bleachers one chilly autumn evening. It had been awkward and sweet, the kind of kiss that lingered in your memory forever.

The whistle of the train jolted her from her thoughts. She shook her head, as if she could dislodge the past from her mind. But the memories clung to her, unwilling to let go. She gathered her bag and stepped off the train into the crisp winter air, her boots crunching against the snow. The town looked the same, yet somehow different—smaller, quieter, and wrapped in the gentle nostalgia of familiarity.

Her parents’ ranch was just as she remembered it, the sprawling fields blanketed in white, the wooden fence lined with twinkling holiday lights. Yet, instead of going straight inside, Y/n felt a pull toward the woods at the edge of the property. She had spent so many hours there as a child, building forts with her friends, laughing until her sides ached.

And that’s when she saw him.

Steve Rogers, dressed in a plaid shirt and sturdy boots, stood in a clearing, his axe raised mid-swing. His broad shoulders flexed as he brought the axe down, splitting a log cleanly in two. He looked different now, older, more rugged. But the sight of him working among the towering trees, the snow falling softly around him, sent a jolt through Y/n.

For a moment, she couldn’t move. Memories of him flooded her mind—the way he used to wait for her after class, the sound of his laugh, the way he’d held her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. She remembered the way her heart had raced when he leaned in to kiss her for the first time, the way his lips had felt against hers, tentative but full of promise.

Steve must have sensed her presence because he straightened and turned, his eyes meeting hers. For a second, neither of them moved, the years melting away in the silence between them. His expression shifted from surprise to something softer, something she couldn’t quite place.

“Y/n?” His voice carried through the crisp air, warm and familiar, like the pages of an old book she had loved and forgotten.

Her breath caught, her throat tightening. She wanted to say something, anything, but the weight of her emotions was too much. Every happy memory was tinged with pain, every moment of joy shadowed by the heartbreak he had caused.

Steve took a step toward her, his movements tentative, like he wasn’t sure she was real. “You’re back,” he said softly, the words filled with something like hope.

Y/n’s grip on her suitcase tightened. She took a step back, her pulse pounding in her ears. The urge to confront him, to ask why he had done what he did, warred with the need to protect herself from the hurt that lingered even now.

Before Steve could say another word, she turned on her heel, her suitcase rolling behind her. She didn’t trust herself to speak, to look at him for another second without breaking.

“Y/n—wait!” he called after her, his voice filled with urgency.

But she didn’t stop. The tears prickled at the corners of her eyes as she walked away, her boots crunching in the snow. She couldn’t face him, not yet. The past was too heavy, the wounds too fresh, no matter how much time had passed.

As she left the woods behind, her heart ached with a mixture of longing and bitterness. Steve Rogers had once been her whole world. And now, he was a reminder of everything she had lost.

~*~

The sound of an axe biting into wood echoed through the quiet expanse of the forest. Steve Rogers wiped the sweat from his brow, his breath visible in the crisp winter air. It had been a long day, the kind that pushed his muscles to the limit but left him with the satisfying ache of hard, honest work. His team was scattered across the woods, each man focused on their task, the rhythm of their labour blending into the serene hum of the forest.

Steve leaned against a felled log, catching his breath. The plaid shirt he wore was dusted with sawdust, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He glanced around the clearing, the familiar sights of towering trees and snow-dappled earth grounding him in the routine he had come to rely on. Life had changed so much in the past few years—he had a six-year-old daughter now, Emma, who was the centre of his world. His priorities revolved around her, and he liked it that way.

But when he turned his head toward the trail, his heart stopped.

Y/n.

She stood a short distance away, framed by the bare trees and soft light filtering through the canopy. She looked the same and yet different—her features sharper, her stance more self-assured, but her eyes still carried the spark he remembered. She was dressed for the cold, her scarf trailing down her coat, her suitcase at her side like a subtle declaration that she didn’t intend to stay long.

The sight of her hit him like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from his lungs. He hadn’t seen her in years, and yet, here she was, as if time had folded in on itself and brought her back to him.

“Y/n?” he said before he could stop himself, the word slipping out with equal parts wonder and hesitation.

Her eyes locked onto his, and he felt a jolt of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. Happiness. Shock. Fear. A sweet, aching kind of stress that threatened to undo the careful balance he had built in his life.

Steve stood rooted to the spot, watching Y/n’s figure retreat into the forest, her suitcase trailing behind her. Each step she took away from him felt like a blow to his chest, an ache he couldn’t ignore. He had imagined this moment for years—what it would feel like to see her again, what he would say—but reality had blindsided him. Instead of joy or closure, he felt the familiar sting of regret, raw and unyielding.

His axe hung loosely in his hand as the noise of the woods—chopping, distant voices of his team—faded into the background. The memory of Y/n’s guarded expression replayed in his mind, and he hated himself for being the cause of it. The pain in her eyes was unmistakable, and it cut deeper than any blade ever could.

He set the axe down and took a few steps toward a nearby log, sinking onto it heavily. His breathing was uneven, his hand instinctively coming to rest over his chest as if he could hold the pain there, keep it from spreading. He had prepared himself for so many things in his life, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing her walk away from him again.

Steve pulled out his phone with trembling hands, scrolling through his contacts until he found the name he needed. He hit the call button and brought the phone to his ear, his jaw clenching as he waited for the line to connect.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice came through, steady and familiar.

“She’s here,” Steve said, his voice shaking. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself, but the words came tumbling out. “Y/n. She’s back.”

There was a pause on the other end, and then Bucky’s voice softened. “Y/n’s back? Where did you see her?”

“In the woods,” Steve replied, running a hand through his hair. “She… she walked right past me. I tried to talk to her, but she just—she left, Buck.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he cursed himself for how raw he sounded.

Bucky’s tone was calm but firm, the way it always was when Steve needed grounding. “Take a deep breath, man. What did she say?”

“Nothing,” Steve admitted, shaking his head even though Bucky couldn’t see him. “She didn’t say much. She looked at me like—like she didn’t know whether to yell at me or cry. And then she just walked away.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging low. “I thought I was ready for this, but seeing her… I don’t know, Buck. It’s like all the years I’ve spent trying to move on just disappeared the second I saw her.”

“You never really moved on,” Bucky said gently. “You might’ve told yourself you did, for Emma’s sake, but you’ve been carrying this with you the whole time.”

Steve closed his eyes, his grip tightening on the phone. “What do I do? How do I fix this? She hates me, Buck.”

“You don’t know that” Bucky replied. “She’s hurt, sure, but hate? That’s a strong word, and I don’t think it’s true. You need to give her time. Let her settle back in. You’ll get your chance to talk to her. Just… don’t let the guilt eat you alive in the meantime.”

Steve let out a heavy sigh, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know if I deserve a second chance, not after everything I’ve done.”

“Maybe not,” Bucky said, his voice unwavering. “But you’ve got Emma now. She’s your second chance, Steve. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re not the kind of man who gives up on the people he loves. You’ll figure it out. Just… take it one step at a time.”

Steve nodded, even though the weight in his chest hadn’t lessened. “Thanks, Buck. I needed that.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Bucky said with a small chuckle. “Now get back to work before your team thinks you’ve gone soft.”

Steve managed a weak smile. “Yeah, right.”

But as the call ended and the forest grew quiet again, Steve remained seated on the log, staring at the spot where Y/n had disappeared. One step at a time, Bucky had said. But Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that, with Y/n, every step would feel like walking uphill in the snow.

And yet, for her, he was willing to try.

~*~

Y/n's arrival at the Stark family ranch was met with warm embraces and bright smiles. Tony Stark, always the charismatic presence, pulled his eldest daughter into a tight hug, his grin wide beneath the streaks of grey peppering his beard.

“There’s my girl,” he said, holding her at arm’s length to take her in. “New York’s been treating you well, huh? You look good, kiddo.”

Pepper was next, her embrace softer but no less full of love. “We’ve missed you; Y/n. Morgan’s been talking about you nonstop since she found out you were coming home.”

Y/n managed a faint smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve missed you guys too,” she said, her tone genuine but subdued.

Morgan, her bright and bubbly younger half-sister, came running down the hall, squealing with excitement as she threw herself at Y/n. “Y/n/n! You’re here!”

Y/n laughed, catching her and spinning her around. “I’m here, Momo,” she said, using the nickname she’d given Morgan years ago. “Have you been behaving for Mom and Dad?”

Morgan giggled, nodding vigorously. “Mostly. But now that you’re here, we can have fun!”

Tony chuckled. “Don’t let her rope you into too much mischief. You’ve barely just arrived.”

As the family settled into the living room, Y/n found herself surrounded by warmth and laughter, the kind of atmosphere she had missed more than she realized. Pepper brought out a tray of tea and cookies, and Morgan immediately began showing Y/n a stack of drawings she’d made for her.

But as the afternoon wore on, Y/n’s smile began to wane. Her thoughts drifted back to the woods, to the shock of seeing Steve again, and the memories that had come rushing in uninvited. The ache in her chest was too much to ignore.

Pepper, ever the perceptive one, noticed Y/n’s change in demeanour. She placed a gentle hand on her shoulder when they were alone in the kitchen, away from Tony and Morgan. “You okay, Y/n?” she asked softly, her voice filled with concern.

Y/n hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of the countertop. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just tired from the trip.”

Pepper didn’t push, knowing better than to pry. “Alright,” she said gently. “But if you need to talk, I’m here. No judgment, just listening.”

Y/n nodded, grateful for her stepmother’s understanding, even if she wasn’t ready to open up just yet.

She spent the rest of the day holed up in her room, the familiar comfort of her childhood sanctuary doing little to ease her restless thoughts. Her phone buzzed repeatedly on the nightstand—texts from Nat, Wanda, and even Bucky. She ignored them all, her thumb hovering over the screen before setting it down again.

Instead, she sat by the window, gazing out at the sprawling fields of the ranch, the sun dipping low over the horizon. The golden light painted the landscape in hues of warmth, but Y/n couldn’t shake the chill that had settled in her chest.

As the evening turned into night, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The ranch was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the house settling. But her mind was anything but still.

She wasn’t ready to face her friends or the questions that would inevitably come. Not yet. For now, she needed time to process, to gather her strength. Because if she knew one thing, it was that coming back home was going to be far more complicated than she’d anticipated.

The Stark ranch was quiet that morning, the warm sunlight streaming through the living room windows. Y/n was sitting on the couch, half-listening to Morgan chatter about her favourite new toys. She smiled and nodded along; her mind preoccupied with everything she’d been avoiding since her arrival.

Then the sound of a car pulling up outside caught her attention. Moments later, the front door opened, and Y/n glanced up to see Pepper greeting someone warmly.

“Come on in, sweetheart,” Pepper said with a cheerful tone.

A little blonde girl stepped inside, clutching a small backpack and looking around with wide, curious eyes. Her resemblance to someone Y/n knew all too well hit her like a punch to the chest.

“Emma, this is Morgan’s big sister, Y/n,” Pepper introduced with a smile.

Emma shifted on her feet, clutching her backpack straps a little tighter. “Hi,” she said softly, her voice as shy as her demeanour.

Y/n froze, her mind racing. Emma? Steve’s daughter? She felt her heart plummet, the weight of realization crashing down on her. She managed a weak smile and a nod, muttering a quiet “Hi” in return before excusing herself.

Morgan didn’t seem to notice Y/n’s reaction, too excited about her playdate. She grabbed Emma’s hand and led her toward the toy corner, their laughter echoing in the room as Y/n hurried upstairs, her steps quick and uneven.

Once in her room, Y/n closed the door and leaned against it, her chest heaving with the effort of keeping her emotions in check. Steve had a daughter. A daughter old enough to be in school, old enough to have a personality, and old enough to remind Y/n of everything she and Steve had lost.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her head in her hands as tears streamed down her face. Memories of their past, of the life they’d once imagined together, collided painfully with the reality before her. The idea that Steve had moved on, built a life without her—it was too much.

Hours passed as Y/n let herself grieve, her tears giving way to quiet resolve. She couldn’t change the past, but she could control how she faced the present. She had come back to her hometown for a reason, and running from her emotions wouldn’t solve anything.

Wiping her eyes and straightening her shoulders, Y/n got up and paced the room, talking herself into finding her strength. She wasn’t the same girl who had left this town years ago. She was older now, tougher, and more confident. She could handle this.

Picking up her phone, she scrolled through the missed calls and texts from Nat, Wanda, and Bucky. With a deep breath, she hit the call button on Nat’s number.

“Finally,” Nat answered almost immediately, her voice sharp but laced with concern. “I was about to send a search party.”

“Sorry,” Y/n said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I’ve just been... processing. Are you guys free? I thought maybe you could come over.”

There was a pause, then a teasing, “About time. We’re on our way.”

After the call, Y/n smoothed her hair, touched up her face, and made her way downstairs. Emma and Morgan were still in the living room, their heads bent together over a set of building blocks. Emma looked up as Zara entered, her shy smile returning.

“Hi, Y/n,” Emma said, her voice a little more confident now.

Y/n smiled back, her chest tightening but this time with something gentler. “Hi, Emma. What are you two building?”

“A castle!” Morgan exclaimed, holding up a small tower of blocks.

Emma nodded enthusiastically. “Morgan said you can help if you want.”

Y/n hesitated, then crouched down to their level. “A castle, huh? I think I can manage that.”

As the afternoon went on, Y/n found herself drawn into their world of imagination and laughter. Emma, to her surprise, began to open, chatting shyly about her favourite colours and stories while Morgan egged her on.

By the time Nat and Wanda arrived, Y/n was laughing along with the girls, a small piece of her heart mending as she realized that perhaps she could face the future after all.

The warm golden light of the afternoon poured through the windows of the Stark ranch, bathing the living room in a cozy glow. Y/n sat on the couch, her legs tucked under her, with a mug of steaming cocoa in her hands. Across from her, Wanda and Nat were sprawled comfortably, their faces alight with laughter and nostalgia. It had been years since they’d all been together like this, and for the first time since her return, Y/n felt a flicker of comfort.

“I still can’t believe you’re engaged!” Y/n exclaimed, looking at Wanda with genuine delight. “You and Bucky... It’s perfect, honestly. I always thought you two would end up together.”

Wanda blushed, a shy smile spreading across her face as she twirled the engagement ring on her finger. “He’s my rock. I mean, he’s still as stubborn as ever, but... I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Nat chuckled, her sharp green eyes sparkling with amusement. “And speaking of surprises, guess who’s dating a brainiac these days?”

Y/n arched a brow, looking at Nat. “No way. You? Who?”

Nat smirked; her tone deliberately casual. “Dr. Bruce Banner.”

Y/n nearly choked on her cocoa. “The scientist? The one who’s always on TV talking about gamma radiation and saving the world with his brain?”

“That’s the one,” Nat confirmed, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “He’s... different. Calm. Kind. He grounds me, you know?”

The conversation flowed easily, the three of them slipping back into the rhythm of their friendship, sharing stories and laughter. But as the light outside began to fade, a quieter moment settled over the group.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to Y/n, and she found herself hesitating when they asked about her time in New York. She admitted she’d been working hard but felt a deep emptiness she couldn’t shake. Nat and Wanda exchanged a glance before Wanda decided to break the silence.

"Y/n, we never stopped rooting for you and Steve," Wanda said gently. "I know it's been years, but... he struggled after you two broke up."

Y/n blinked, her heart squeezing. "What do you mean?"

Nat sighed; her tone soft but serious. "After your breakup, Steve threw himself into everything he could—work, enlisting, anything to keep himself busy. But it was obvious he was hurting."

Wanda nodded, adding, "And when Emma came into his life, she became his whole world. He’s an incredible father, Y/n, but it wasn’t easy for him. Raising a child on his own, balancing everything... it’s a lot."

Y/n swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around her now empty mug. "I had no idea. I mean, I always thought he moved on and was fine. But hearing this... it makes me feel awful."

Nat reached out, squeezing Y/n’s hand. "It wasn’t your fault, Y/n. You didn’t know. But Steve’s been through a lot."

Wanda hesitated before saying, "There’s more to his story, but it’s not our place to share it. If you’re ready, talk to him. He deserves that chance."

Y/n nodded slowly, her emotions a whirlwind of guilt, sadness, and something she couldn’t quite name. She had been so focused on her own pain, on the heartbreak she’d carried for years, that she hadn’t considered what Steve might have endured.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda reached over, placing a comforting hand on Y/n’s arm. “Because we know you still care about him. And because he deserves a chance to tell you his side of the story.”

Y/n looked down at her mug, her thoughts racing. The man she had seen in the woods wasn’t just the boy she had loved and lost. He was someone who had been shaped by heartbreak, sacrifice, and resilience. And for the first time, she wondered if there might still be a place for her in his life—and in Emma’s.

The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the large windows of the ranch's living room, casting a golden hue over the cozy gathering. The air was filled with warmth and nostalgia, the kind that only comes from reconnecting with old friends.

Morgan had claimed her usual spot beside Y/n, snuggled against her side as she listened intently to the women talk, occasionally chiming in with her youthful curiosity. Emma, on the other hand, had hesitated for a moment, her small hands clutching the edge of her sweater as she lingered by Morgan’s side.

Y/n noticed the hesitation and gave Emma a gentle, inviting smile. “You can sit here too, Emma,” she said softly, patting the space beside her.

Emma’s eyes brightened just a little, and she shuffled closer, climbing up onto the couch. At first, she sat with a small gap between her and Y/n, but as the conversation continued and the atmosphere grew lighter, Emma found herself leaning into Y/n’s warmth. Soon, she was snuggled against Y/n, just like Morgan, her little head resting against Y/n’s arm.

Tony stood in the doorway, watching the scene unfold from a distance. His sharp eyes softened as he took in the sight of his eldest daughter surrounded by love and laughter, with two little girls nestled close to her. It was a picture of familial warmth, one he hadn’t seen in years, and it tugged at something deep inside him.

Pepper approached him quietly, her curious gaze following his line of sight. “What’s on your mind, Tony?” she asked gently, sensing the weight in his expression.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he wrestled with his emotions. “Just... thinking about how much time we’ve lost with her,” he admitted, his voice low and tinged with regret.

Pepper studied him for a moment, her intuition picking up on the guilt that clouded his features. “There’s something more, isn’t there?”

Tony exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Pep, there’s a reason Y/n stayed away for so long. And... it’s partly my fault.”

Her brows furrowed, but she didn’t press him, giving him the space to continue.

“When Y/n and Steve were young, they were inseparable,” Tony said, his gaze never leaving Y/n as she laughed softly at something Morgan whispered. “They had these big dreams, but they were so caught up in each other. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing by stepping in. I told Steve he needed to let her go so she could focus on her future, her career. And he listened to me. He broke her heart because I asked him to.”

Pepper’s hand came up to her chest, her eyes widening in surprise. “Tony... you never told me that.”

“I thought I was protecting her,” he said, his voice thick with remorse. “But all I did was push her away. She’s been carrying that hurt for years, and I don’t even know if she can forgive me for it. Seeing her now, with Emma, with Morgan... I can see what I took from her. From them.”

Pepper placed a comforting hand on his arm, her expression softening. “You made a mistake, Tony. But you have a chance to make it right. This time, you can show her how much you regret what happened. Support her, be there for her. It’s not too late to undo some of the damage.”

Tony nodded, his heart heavy but resolute. As he watched Y/n lean down to kiss Morgan’s forehead and gently brush Emma’s hair back from her face, he silently vowed to do whatever it took to make amends.

In the living room, Y/n felt the warmth of the two little girls beside her and the laughter of her friends around her, a bittersweet mix of emotions swirling within her. She had come back to her hometown to escape her memories, but it seemed they were determined to catch up with her.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to face them head-on.

The early evening had draped the town in a gentle chill, the streets glowing with festive lights and a promise of the holiday cheer to come. Steve wiped his hands on a rag as he finished up his work for the day, his mind restless. Thoughts of Y/n occupied him constantly since her return, but the weight of his hesitation kept him from reaching out.

When Bucky pulled up in his truck, Steve wasn’t entirely surprised. His best friend always had a way of nudging him toward the things he avoided.

“You off the clock?” Bucky asked, leaning casually out of the driver’s side window.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, folding the rag and tossing it into his work bag.

“Good. I’m headed to pick Wanda up. She’s hanging out with Y/n, Nat, and the kids over at Stark’s place. Thought you might want to tag along.”

Steve stiffened at the mention of Y/n. “I’ll just grab Emma from outside when she’s ready. No need for me to go in.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shutting the truck door and hopping out to stand next to Steve. “Rogers, you’ve been dragging your feet ever since Y/n got back. Don’t you think it’s time to stop hiding?”

“I’m not hiding,” Steve said defensively, but the look Bucky gave him said otherwise.

“She’s here, Steve. You can’t just keep avoiding her. Besides, it’s not just about you. Emma loves spending time there, and whether you like it or not, Y/n’s part of her life now.”

Steve sighed, knowing Bucky was right but still reluctant. “Fine. But just for a little bit.”

With a smirk, Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. “Atta boy.”

When they arrived at the ranch, the warm glow from inside the house was inviting, the sound of laughter spilling out onto the porch. Steve’s resolve wavered, but before he could change his mind, Bucky gave him a light shove toward the door.

Wanda greeted them with a grin, pulling Bucky into a quick kiss before dragging him inside. “Pepper’s insisting everyone stay for dinner,” she announced, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Steve hesitated, standing just inside the doorway, his gaze scanning the room. Y/n was there, sitting on the couch with Morgan and Emma perched beside her, their giggles mingling with Nat’s teasing remarks. For a moment, Steve forgot how to breathe.

Y/n looked up, her eyes meeting his. The air between them grew heavy with unspoken words and lingering memories. Her expression flickered—surprise, tension, and something else he couldn’t quite place.

“Steve, Bucky,” Pepper called from the kitchen, breaking the moment. “Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Steve shuffled into the living room, taking a seat at the far end of the couch. Emma ran over to him immediately, her face lighting up. “Daddy! Look what Morgan and I made!” She held up a colourful paper ornament, her excitement contagious.

“It’s beautiful, Em,” Steve said, his voice warm as he ruffled her hair. Y/n watched the exchange, her heart aching at how natural and loving Steve was as a father.

The evening passed with a mixture of light conversation and awkward silences between Steve and Y/n. She couldn’t help but notice the little things—the way Steve’s face softened whenever Emma spoke, how he always seemed attuned to her needs. He was a good father, and that realization tugged at something deep inside her.

As dinner wound down, talk of Christmas filled the air. The children’s excitement was infectious, and even Y/n found herself smiling despite the tension she carried.

Steve stole glances at Y/n throughout the evening, his heart heavy with the weight of the past. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words remained stuck in his throat. Christmas was only a few days away, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this holiday season might be his only chance to set things right.

~*~

The soft morning sunlight streamed through the curtains of Steve’s modest home, casting a warm glow across the cozy interior. Steve knelt by Emma’s bed, brushing her golden hair into two neat braids. Emma, ever the chatterbox, swung her legs excitedly as she recounted her latest adventures at the ranch.

“And then Y/n said my snowman was the best one she’d ever seen!” Emma exclaimed, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “She even gave him a scarf. Morgan said it looked silly, but Y/n said it was stylish.”

Steve chuckled, tying off the first braid and starting on the second. “Sounds like Y/n knows a thing or two about snowman fashion.”

Emma nodded enthusiastically. “She’s really nice, Daddy. Did you know she can braid hair like a princess? She did mine yesterday, and Morgan’s too. It looked so pretty!”

Steve smiled softly, his heart warming at the thought. “Yeah, I bet she’s good at that. Y/n’s always been good at making people feel special.”

Emma tilted her head, looking up at her dad curiously. “Did you know Y/n when you were my age?”

Steve paused, the hairbrush still in his hand. “Not when I was your age, no. But I knew her when I was a little older than you. We went to school together.”

“Were you friends?” Emma asked, her voice filled with innocent curiosity.

Steve finished the second braid, tying it off with a pink ribbon. He smiled wistfully, sitting back on his heels. “Yeah, we were. She was one of my best friends.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Really? Did you have fun together like I do with Morgan?”

“We did,” Steve said softly, his thoughts drifting back to those days. “Y/n and I had a lot of fun together. She’s always been funny and smart, just like you’ve seen.”

Emma beamed at the comparison. “I like her, Daddy. I miss her when she’s not at the ranch.”

Steve’s heart ached a little at her words. “Do you, now?”

Emma nodded vigorously. “Uh-huh. She makes everything more fun. And she smells nice, like flowers. And she tells the best stories.”

Steve chuckled, reaching out to boop Emma’s nose. “You really like her, huh?”

“Yeah,” Emma said with a giggle. Then her expression turned thoughtful. “Daddy, do you like Y/n?”

Steve felt his breath catch at the question. He looked at his daughter’s expectant face, so innocent and full of trust, and decided to answer honestly. “I do, sweetheart. Y/n’s... special.”

Emma’s smile grew even wider. “Good. ’cause I think she likes us too.”

Steve’s heart squeezed at Emma’s words. He wished it were that simple.

“Well,” he said, lifting Emma off the bed and setting her on the floor, “we’re lucky to have her around for the holidays, aren’t we?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah! Maybe she can come over again soon?”

Steve smiled, kissing her hair gently. “Maybe. Let’s finish getting you ready first, okay?”

As Emma chattered on about all the things she wanted to show Y/n next, Steve couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Emma’s innocent joy reminded him of the good things still left in life—and maybe, just maybe, a chance to fix what was broken.

~*~

As Y/n settled back into the rhythm of her hometown, spending more time with her friends—including Steve—things began to shift in ways neither of them had anticipated. What started as casual group hangouts—bonfires by the lake, game nights at Bucky and Wanda’s, or lazy afternoons at the café—turned into something more. There was a magnetic pull between them, subtle at first, but undeniable.

It was the little things that caught Y/n off guard. The way Steve’s eyes would linger on her when he thought she wasn’t looking. The soft timbre of his laugh when she cracked a joke, a sound she hadn’t realized she missed. The way he’d instinctively help her with her coat or offer her his arm when the ground was icy.

For Steve, it was harder to hide how much Y/n still meant to him. He’d watch her laugh with Nat and Wanda, her eyes lighting up in that way he’d always adored, and he’d feel that familiar ache in his chest. Seeing her bond so naturally with Emma only deepened the longing. It wasn’t just nostalgia anymore—it was the realization that the feelings he had for her never truly went away.

One chilly evening, their group decided to go ice skating at the frozen pond. Y/n, not exactly graceful on skates, wobbled her way onto the ice, much to everyone’s amusement. Steve, ever the protector, skated over and offered his hand. “Need a little help?” he teased, his voice warm.

“I’ve got this,” Y/n replied, though her wobbly stance said otherwise.

But when she slipped, Steve caught her, his hands firm on her waist as he steadied her. Their faces were suddenly close, their breaths mingling in the cold air. For a moment, neither of them moved. The laughter of their friends faded into the background as their eyes met, a spark flickering between them. Y/n quickly pulled away, muttering something about needing more practice, but the moment lingered in both their minds long after.

Another time, during a group dinner at the ranch, Y/n found herself sitting across from Steve. Their knees accidentally brushed under the table, and neither of them moved to pull away. It was a simple touch, but it sent a jolt through Y/n, her cheeks flushing as she focused on her plate. Steve, for his part, couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at his lips.

Their friends weren’t blind to what was happening. Nat and Wanda exchanged knowing glances whenever Y/n and Steve were in the same room. Bucky, always one to tease, made a comment one evening about the way Steve’s attention seemed to follow Y/n wherever she went. “You’ve got it bad, Rogers,” he joked, clapping Steve on the back.

Steve didn’t deny it. He couldn’t.

But Y/n was more conflicted. The old wounds from their breakup hadn’t fully healed, yet, every time she was around Steve, she felt a warmth she hadn’t realized she missed. It scared her, but it also gave her hope.

As Christmas approached, their longing for each other became even more apparent. Whether it was decorating the town’s Christmas tree together or stealing glances at each other during a snowball fight with the kids, the connection between them was undeniable. They were both trying to navigate the unspoken feelings that had resurfaced, unsure of how to take the next step but unable to ignore what was blossoming between them.

The nights grew colder, but for Y/n and Steve, the warmth they felt in each other’s presence was enough to melt the ice that had formed around their hearts.

~*~

The house was quiet except for the faint crackle of the fireplace and the soft hum of Morgan’s voice as she played in her room. Y/n sat on the edge of her bed, gently stroking Emma’s hair. The little girl’s head rested against her chest; her cheeks still streaked with dried tears. Emma had clung to Y/n after her fall down the stairs earlier, seeking comfort in her arms, and now she was fast asleep. Her bruised forehead and the tiny split on her lip made Y/n’s heart ache.

When the knock came at the door, Y/n rose carefully, cradling Emma against her, and opened it to find Steve standing there. His expression immediately shifted to one of concern when he saw Y/n holding Emma, her injuries visible even in the dim light of the hallway.

“What happened?” he asked, stepping inside, his voice tinged with worry.

“She fell down the stairs while playing with Morgan,” Y/n said gently, shifting Emma slightly in her arms. “I cleaned her up, and she’s okay now, just a bit shaken. She was scared, so I let her stay close. She finally fell asleep.”

Steve’s face softened as he approached, brushing a hand over Emma’s hair. “She used to get sick a lot when she was a baby,” he murmured, his voice low as if speaking more to himself than Y/n. “Every little thing worried me back then—fevers, colds, scrapes. I’d stay up all night, holding her, just to make sure she was okay.”

Y/n watched him, her heart twisting at the tenderness in his voice. “It must have been so hard,” she said softly, her fingers still running through Emma’s blonde curls.

Steve nodded, taking a shaky breath. “I didn’t know what I was doing half the time, but I just... figured it out. She became my whole world, and I couldn’t let her down.” He glanced at Y/n, his blue eyes heavy with emotion. “You’d never believe how terrified I was when I first found out I’d be raising her on my own.”

Y/n hesitated, then asked the question that had been sitting on the tip of her tongue for so long. “What happened, Steve? To Emma’s mom?”

Steve leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest as he looked at the sleeping child. “Her mom, Peggy... We met while I was in the army. We were together for a while, but things didn’t work out. She... cheated on me, and when she found out she was pregnant, she didn’t tell me until after Emma was born. By then, she’d made it clear she didn’t want to be a mom. So, I took Emma and left.”

Y/n’s breath caught. “She just walked away from her own child?”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. It hurt at first, but I couldn’t focus on that. Emma needed me. I didn’t have time to fall apart.”

Y/n reached out, her hand brushing his arm. “You’ve done an amazing job with her, Steve. She’s such a sweet, kind girl. That’s all because of you.”

He glanced down at her hand, then back at her. “It hasn’t been easy, but... she’s worth it. She’s my everything.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of his story hanging between them. Y/n looked at Emma, her small body curled up against her chest and felt a wave of protectiveness she hadn’t expected. She thought of her own childhood, of losing her mother and how lost she’d felt until Pepper stepped into her life. Emma didn’t have her mother, but she had Steve—and now, maybe, she had Y/n too.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Y/n said softly, meeting Steve’s gaze.

Steve’s eyes searched hers, and for a moment, the years of pain and separation seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of them in that quiet, vulnerable moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Emma stirred slightly in Y/n’s arms, and Steve gently reached out to take her. “I should get her home,” he said, his voice steadier now.

Y/n nodded but hesitated before speaking again. “Steve... if you ever need help, with anything, just let me know. You don’t have to do this all on your own anymore.”

His lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “I appreciate that, Y/n. More than you know.”

As he carried Emma out the door, Y/n watched them go, her heart full of emotions she hadn’t expected to feel. It wasn’t just Steve she was drawn to—it was Emma too, and the possibility of being a part of something bigger than herself. Something that felt, for the first time in a long time, like home.

~*~

Steve stood in the entryway of Tony's home office; his fists clenched by his sides. He had been expecting a simple exchange of pleasantries when he came to pick up Emma for the day, but instead, Tony had requested a private conversation, and now here they were.

Tony motioned for Steve to take a seat, his eyes tired, as if carrying the weight of years of regret. There was no joy or casual banter between them—only an underlying heaviness that neither of them had acknowledged until now.

"Steve," Tony began, his voice quieter than usual. "We need to talk about Y/n."

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the familiar unease from years ago returning. "About Y/n?" He let out a sharp breath, trying to keep his composure. "I don’t think there’s anything to talk about."

Tony leaned forward; his voice filled with something Steve couldn’t quite place—was it guilt? Regret? "There is, Steve. I know you’ve been struggling with this, and I’ve seen the way Y/n’s been affected by everything. I see how sad she is. I made a mistake, a huge one. You were right when you left, but now... now I’m realizing just how wrong I was asking you to break up with her."

Steve’s chest tightened at the mention of that day—the day Tony had asked him to end things with Y/n for their futures. The day that had broken them both in ways he wasn’t sure they could recover from.

"You’re right," Tony continued, a weariness in his tone. "I can see it now. She never really got over it, and neither did you. And for that, I’m sorry. I should’ve never asked you to do it. But I see it now. I can’t ignore it anymore. I just want to fix it."

Steve’s hands tightened into fists again, the anger bubbling up from the depths of his gut. He stood up, his voice growing firm, tinged with frustration. "You can’t fix it, Tony. You can’t just come in now and try to fix things after all these years. You can’t play with our emotions like that. You think it's that easy? You think I can just forget everything? Forget the hurt, the years of pain that I carried because of your decision?"

Tony flinched slightly, but Steve didn’t give him a chance to respond.

"I broke up with Y/n because you told me to. I didn’t want to. I loved her, but you—" Steve shook his head, his voice rising. "You made me believe it was the right thing to do, for her, for us. You said we had careers to build, futures to chase. You convinced me it was for the best, that we’d both be better off. But look at what happened. Look at the wreckage left behind."

Tony’s face fell, his eyes full of sorrow. "I know, Steve. I know. And that’s why I’m saying I made a mistake. I see how she’s been affected, and I know how you’ve been affected, too. But I can’t change the past."

"Exactly," Steve replied, his voice laced with bitterness. "You can’t. And neither can I. You don’t get to tell me what to do now, or how to fix things. It’s not that simple."

Tony’s silence hung in the air, thick and heavy. Then Steve took a step forward, his voice low but resolute.

"You’re right about one thing, though," Steve continued. “Y/n deserves to know the truth. She deserves to hear it from you. You were the one who asked me to walk away from her. You were the one who asked me to break her heart. So, you owe it to her to be the one to tell her why."

Tony’s face turned a shade paler at Steve’s words, the weight of what he’d done crashing down on him in that moment. He swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "You’re right. I need to tell her."

Steve looked at Tony, his expression hard. "You’re not going to fix it by telling me what to do. You’ve got to fix this with her. She’s your daughter, Tony. It’s your responsibility now. Don’t leave it to me."

Without another word, Steve stormed out of the office, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure what had set him off more—Tony’s overbearing attitude or the underlying guilt that still gnawed at him about the past. Either way, the conversation had done nothing but make him angrier.

When Steve entered the living room, he saw Emma and Morgan playing on the floor, their laughter filling the air. For a moment, he almost felt at peace, watching the two of them in their world of pretend and innocent fun. But the anger still lingered within him, a storm he couldn’t shake.

"Em," he called, his voice more curt than he intended. "It’s time to go."

Emma didn’t look up at first, too engrossed in her play. But when she did, her face lit up with a smile. "Daddy, I don’t want to go yet. I’m playing with Morgan."

Steve’s heart sank, and the frustration from his conversation with Tony flared up again. "I said it’s time to go," he repeated, more forcefully this time.

Before Emma could protest further, Steve walked over, gently but firmly scooping her up in his arms. "Daddy, no!" Emma cried out, her small hands gripping at his shirt. "I want to stay with Morgan! Please, Daddy!"

Steve’s grip tightened slightly, and he held her close, trying to ignore the look of distress on her face. He could feel her starting to squirm, her sobs breaking his resolve, but he remained firm. The situation at Tony’s office had stirred up too much anger and pain for him to process, and he couldn’t let Emma’s pleading get in the way of what he thought was best for her—at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

By the time they reached home, the tension between them was unbearable. Emma was still crying softly in his arms, her small body trembling with emotion. Steve set her down gently on the couch and crouched in front of her. His anger had faded, replaced by the overwhelming guilt of his actions.

"I’m sorry, kiddo," he said, his voice softening. "I shouldn’t have done that. I was angry, and I took it out on you."

Emma sniffled, wiping her eyes. "I just wanted to play with Morgan. You didn’t have to take me away from her."

Steve’s heart ached, and he pulled her into a tight hug. "I know, baby. I’m so sorry. I should’ve let you stay longer. But sometimes… sometimes things get complicated, and I don’t always know how to handle them. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my frustration."

He paused, feeling the weight of his words. He wanted to explain more—about the conversation with Tony, about his own struggles, about the way things with Y/n still haunted him—but he knew Emma was too young for all of that.

"You’re allowed to be sad," Steve continued, his voice cracking slightly. "But sometimes, I have to make decisions that aren’t easy, and they might not always make sense to you. But I promise you, I’m doing my best, okay?"

Emma clung to him, nodding slowly. "Okay, Daddy."

"Thank you for understanding," Steve whispered, kissing the top of her head. "You mean the world to me, Em. And I’ll always try to do better."

They sat like that for a while, the tension slowly melting away. Steve made a mental note to make things right—for Emma’s sake and his own.

~*~

Y/n knocked on Steve’s door, her jaw tight with frustration. Morgan stood beside her, holding a small basket of cookies they’d baked earlier. Y/n had noticed Emma’s absence for days now and couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. When Steve finally opened the door, his dishevelled appearance confirmed her suspicions.

“Y/n,” Steve said, his voice heavy with surprise and something else she couldn’t quite place.

“Steve,” Y/n replied, her tone curt. “I haven’t seen Emma in days. Is she okay?”

Steve sighed and stepped aside, letting them in. “She’s upstairs resting. She’s been feeling under the weather.”

Y/n eyes narrowed. “Under the weather? Steve, it’s freezing outside, and you’ve been taking her to work with you? What were you thinking?”

Steve’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I was thinking I don’t have much of a choice, Y/n. Not everyone has the luxury of dropping everything to bake cookies and hang out at the ranch.”

Morgan flinched at his tone, and Y/n placed a calming hand on the little girl’s shoulder before turning her full attention to Steve. “That’s not fair,” she said, her voice low but firm. “I didn’t come here to fight. I came to check on Emma. She’s a child, Steve. She shouldn’t be dragged into adult problems.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, clearly on edge. “You think I don’t know that? Do you think I want this? I’m doing the best I can, Y/n!”

“The best you can?” Y/n shot back. “Steve, you’ve always been a great father. But isolating Emma and keeping her out in the cold isn’t fair to her. Why didn’t you just bring her to the ranch? Pepper and I could’ve helped.”

Steve’s eyes flashed with frustration. “Because it’s not just about Emma! I can’t face Tony after what he said to me. I won’t let him manipulate me—or you—again.”

Zara’s anger softened slightly at his words, but she wasn’t ready to back down. “This isn’t about my dad. This is about Emma. She needs more than just you, Steve. She needs warmth, stability, and people who care about her. And whether you like it or not, I’m one of those people.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time, he looked truly defeated. “I know,” he admitted quietly. “I just... I didn’t know how to handle it. I’m trying to protect her, Y/n. And maybe I’m failing.”

Y/n stepped closer, her voice softening. “You’re not failing, Steve. But you can’t do this alone. You don’t have to.”

He met her gaze, the walls he’d put up slowly crumbling. “It’s hard, Y/n. It’s hard to trust again, to let someone in.”

“I know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But Emma deserves more. And so do you.”

They stood there for a moment, the tension between them easing as the weight of unspoken emotions hung in the air.

Morgan tugged on Y/n’s hand, breaking the moment. “Can we see Emma now?”

Y/n smiled down at her. “Of course.” She turned back to Steve. “We’ll check on her, and then we’ll talk. Okay?”

Steve nodded, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. “Okay.”

As Y/n and Morgan headed upstairs, Steve stayed behind in the living room, taking a deep breath. For the first time in days, the loneliness didn’t feel so suffocating.

The warmth of Emma’s hug lingered as Y/n descended the stairs, her thoughts a storm of emotions. Upstairs, the sound of Emma and Morgan’s excited chatter echoed, a stark contrast to the tension she felt building in her chest.

Steve stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his expression guarded. When he saw Y/n, his features softened slightly, but there was still an undercurrent of unease in his stance.

“How did you know?” Steve asked, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

Y/n folded her arms and tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “Morgan told me. She’s been upset that Emma hasn’t been coming over. And when a six-year-old is upset, they tend to spill everything.”

Steve sighed and looked away, his jaw tightening.

“Steve,” Y/n pressed, taking a step closer, “what’s going on? Why are you keeping Emma away? And what exactly did my father say to you that has you acting like this?”

Steve’s eyes snapped back to hers, conflicted. “Y/n, I don’t think—”

“No,” she cut him off, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle, Steve. I’m done with people keeping things from me to ‘protect’ me. I deserve to know.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration matching hers. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is with you, is it?” Y/n’s voice cracked, her emotions threatening to spill over. “You’re shutting me out again, Steve. Just like before.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his tone defensive.

“No, what’s not fair is being kept in the dark about things that directly affect my life!” Y/n snapped. She shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll go ask dad myself. Maybe he’ll actually give me the truth.”

Steve stiffened but said nothing as Y/n grabbed her coat and walked out the door, her heart pounding with anger and sadness.

She arrived at the ranch, her emotions in turmoil. She found Tony in his study, nursing a glass of whiskey by the fireplace. He looked up, surprised by her abrupt entrance.

“What did you say to Steve?” Y/n demanded, not bothering with pleasantries.

Tony set down his glass, his expression shifting to one of guilt. “Y/n, I was only trying to—”

“Tell me.” She cut him off, her voice trembling.

Tony hesitated, then sighed deeply. “I told him to try and make things right with you. That I was wrong to push him to break up with you all those years ago.”

Y/n froze, her chest tightening. “You... you told him to break up with me?”

Tony nodded, his face etched with regret. “You were both so young. I thought I was doing what was best for you—for your future. I didn’t want you to be tied down or distracted. I thought I was protecting you, Y/n.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she stepped closer, her voice rising. “You thought you were protecting me? By tearing apart the only thing that made me happy. Do you even realize what you did, Dad? The years of pain and loneliness I went through. Steve and I... we could have been a family. Emma... Emma could have been my daughter!”

Tony flinched at her words, the weight of her accusation hitting him like a punch to the gut. “Y/n, I didn’t know it would turn out this way. I made a mistake. A terrible mistake.”

Y/n shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Your mistake cost me everything. And now you think you can just fix it by pushing us back together? Do you have any idea how much damage you’ve done?”

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but she held up a hand, stopping him. “I can’t do this right now. I need to think. To process all of this.”

She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Tony sitting in silence, his guilt heavier than ever. Upstairs, Y/n locked herself in her bedroom, the weight of the revelation crashing down on her.

All the possibilities of what her life could have been played out in her mind, and for the first time, she allowed herself to mourn the life she had lost—the life she could have had with Steve and Emma.

~*~

Bucky leaned back in his chair, nursing a beer as he listened to Steve with a mix of curiosity and concern. They were seated in the living room of Steve’s cabin, the cool weekend air carrying the scent of pine and freshly chopped wood.

“So, you haven’t seen Y/n since that day?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve shook his head, staring into the distance. “No. I dropped Emma off at the ranch yesterday, but she wasn’t around. Pepper took Emma in, and Tony didn’t say much.” He paused, his grip tightening on the bottle in his hand. “I’m pretty sure Y/n knows everything now. Tony must’ve told her.”

Bucky frowned. “You think that’s why she’s avoiding you?”

Steve nodded, his jaw clenching. “What else could it be? She came here demanding answers, and I couldn’t even give her the truth. Now she knows I didn’t fight for us, that I let her go because her dad told me to. She probably hates me for it.”

Bucky let out a low whistle. “Man, that’s heavy. But are you sure she’s avoiding you? Maybe she’s just... processing everything.”

Steve scoffed. “Processing? She’s been through hell because of decisions I made—or didn’t make. I don’t blame her for not wanting to see me.”

Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I get it. You’re carrying a lot of guilt, but you need to stop assuming what Y/n’s thinking. You’re not doing yourself or her any favour by hiding out here and playing the martyr.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What am I supposed to do, Buck? She’s made it clear she doesn’t want to talk to me. The last thing I want is to make things worse.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Steve, you’ve got to stop being so damn noble all the time. You love her, don’t you?”

Steve hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Of course, I do.”

“Then you need to tell her that. You need to let her know how you feel—how you’ve always felt. Let her decide where to go from here. But sitting around and assuming the worst? That’s not helping anyone.”

Steve leaned back on the couch, exhaling heavily. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Bucky smirked, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Start by showing up. Go to the ranch, talk to her. Even if she’s mad, even if she’s hurt, she deserves to hear the truth from you. All of it.”

Steve looked at his old friend, the weight of Bucky’s words sinking in. “You really think she’d want to hear from me?”

Bucky grinned. “Steve, Y/n’s not just anybody. If there’s one person who can take all the messy parts of you and still care, it’s her. But you’ve got to give her the chance to decide for herself.”

Steve nodded slowly, determination flickering in his eyes. “You’re right. It’s time I stop running from this.”

Bucky raised his beer. “Damn right. Now go get your girl.”

The evening sun cast a golden glow over the ranch as Steve parked his truck by the driveway. He hesitated for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly before exhaling a deep breath. It was now or never. He couldn’t let Y/n slip away again—not without fighting for her this time.

He found Y/n in the barn, busy brushing one of the horses. Her movements were precise, almost mechanical, and Steve could tell she was lost in her thoughts. The sound of his boots crunching on the hay-strewn floor made her stiffen.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” she asked without turning around, her voice sharp but tinged with exhaustion.

“I needed to see you,” Steve said, his tone calm but firm. “We need to talk, Y/n.”

She spun around, her eyes blazing. “Talk? Now you want to talk. After everything? After I had to hear the truth from my father instead of you?” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “Do you have any idea what that felt like, Steve? To know you just... let me go because someone else told you to?”

Steve stepped closer, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Y/n, I didn’t just let you go. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I was scared, and I was stupid. I didn’t know how to fight for us back then, and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

She crossed her arms, her body trembling with anger and hurt. “Do you even understand what that did to me? I spent years trying to figure out why you left, why I wasn’t enough for you to stay. And now, to find out it wasn’t even your decision—” Her voice broke, and she turned away, wiping her tears furiously.

Steve moved closer, his voice soft but resolute. “Y/n, you were always enough. You were everything. I loved you then, and I love you now. I never stopped. The only reason I made it through losing you was Emma. She gave me a reason to keep going when I didn’t have one anymore.”

Y/n turned back to him, her face wet with tears. “You say you love me, but how am I supposed to trust that, Steve? How do I know you won’t walk away again the next time things get hard?”

Steve reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. “Because I’ve learned, Y/n. I’ve learned what it means to fight for the people you love. And I’m standing here, right now, telling you that I’ll never let anyone—or anything—come between us again. Not your father, not my fears, not anything.”

Her resolve cracked, and she let out a shaky breath. “Steve...”

“I’m here, Y/n,” he whispered, his thumb brushing away her tears. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Without thinking, Y/n closed the gap between them, burying her face in his chest as the tears she’d been holding back poured out. Steve wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if to shield her from all the pain they’d both endured.

“I hate that you broke my heart,” she murmured against his chest.

“I know,” Steve said softly. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me.”

For a long moment, they simply held each other, the weight of their shared history pressing down on them but also knitting them back together.

When Y/n finally pulled back, she looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks and a fragile smile. “I’m still mad at you.”

Steve chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “That’s fair.”

But when he leaned down, his forehead resting gently against hers, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the moment, the warmth of his presence chasing away the cold walls she’d built around her heart.

For the first time in years, Y/n felt the ache in her chest begin to ease. And as Steve held her, she realized that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.

~*~

The days following Y/n's emotional confrontation with her father were a whirlwind of emotions. She tried to focus on her work and the budding moments she was sharing with Steve while keeping her distance from Tony. Pepper, ever the mediator, reassured Tony to be patient, to give Y/n the time and space she needed to process everything.

One crisp evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Steve sat in the living room with Emma. She was sprawled on the floor with her colouring book, her blonde curls tumbling over her face as she concentrated on staying inside the lines. Steve watched her for a moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, leaning forward on the couch.

Emma looked up, her big blue eyes curious. “Yeah, Daddy?”

Steve hesitated for a second, running a hand through his hair. “Can I ask you something?”

She nodded eagerly, setting her crayon down. “What is it?”

“Well,” Steve began, leaning his elbows on his knees, “how do you feel about Y/n?”

Emma’s face lit up instantly. “I love Y/n! She’s so nice, and she makes the best cookies. And she says my hair is really pretty, just like hers used to be when she was my age!”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, Y/n’s pretty great.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “What if... Y/n and I spent more time together? Like, a lot more?”

Emma tilted her head, considering his question. “Like, she’d come over all the time?”

“Maybe,” Steve said with a small smile. “Or maybe we’d all spend time together, like a family.”

Emma’s eyes widened with excitement. “Like a real family? Like, with you and me and Y/n? And Morgan too?”

“Well, not exactly Morgan,” Steve said, laughing softly. “But yeah, like a real family.”

Emma’s grin stretched ear to ear. “I’d like that a lot! Y/n makes you smile more, Daddy. And she gives really good hugs.”

Steve’s chest tightened at his daughter’s innocent words. He reached over and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “You know, Emma, you’re the most important thing in my life. I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

Emma snuggled into him, her small arms wrapping around his neck. “I am happy, Daddy. Especially if Y/n’s around.”

Steve kissed the top of her head, his heart full. “You’re a pretty amazing kid, you know that?”

Emma giggled. “I know.”

They sat like that for a while, the warmth of their bond filling the room. For the first time in a long while, Steve felt a sense of clarity. Whatever the future held, he knew that Emma’s happiness—and his own—might just lie in finding a way to bring Y/n into their lives for good.

~*~

As Christmas drew nearer, the air around the ranch seemed to hum with a renewed warmth. Y/n and Steve were slowly, almost instinctively, rekindling the romance that had once defined their youth. It started with small, fleeting moments—a shared laugh over a childhood memory, lingering glances across the room, and the way their hands would brush when passing something to each other.

Their friends noticed, of course. Wanda and Nat exchanged knowing smiles during group gatherings, while Bucky teased Steve about how obvious he was. “You’re like a lovesick puppy, Rogers,” Bucky joked one evening, earning a roll of the eyes from Steve.

Pepper, ever the supportive presence, quietly encouraged Y/n. “You deserve happiness, Y/n/n,” she said softly one night. “You’ve always carried so much weight on your shoulders. Maybe it’s time to let yourself feel joy again.”

Despite the happiness blooming around her, Y/n couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in her chest. Deep down, she was scared. The thought of starting something serious with Steve—something that could so easily be shattered by the distance and her demanding career in New York—terrified her. She didn’t want to risk hurting herself or, worse, hurting him and Emma.

One evening, as snow began to fall softly outside, Y/n found herself alone in the barn, brushing down one of the horses. The familiar rhythm of the task calmed her racing thoughts. She didn’t hear Steve come in until he cleared his throat softly.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gentle.

Y/n looked up, startled but quickly recovering. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet was filled with the soft sounds of the horses and the distant laughter of Emma and Morgan playing inside the house.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Steve finally said, stepping closer.

Y/n sighed, setting down the brush. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve just... been thinking.”

“About what?” Steve asked, his gaze steady but kind.

“About us,” She admitted. “About what happens when I go back to New York. About how complicated this all is.”

Steve nodded, his expression serious. “It is complicated. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

“Steve,” Y/n began, her voice faltering. “What if this doesn’t work? What if I hurt you? Or Emma?”

“You won’t,” Steve said firmly. “You won’t hurt us, y/n. I know you’re scared—I am too. But we’ve been given a second chance. Don’t you think that’s worth fighting for?”

Y/n looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of doubt, but all she found was sincerity. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this,” she whispered.

Steve took her hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ve always been. And I’ll be here to remind you of that every step of the way.”

Her heart ached at his words, a mix of hope and fear swirling inside her. She wanted to believe him, to trust in the possibility of a future together. But the thought of leaving again, of potentially breaking both their hearts, loomed large in her mind.

For now, all she could do was lean into his embrace, letting his warmth and steady presence soothe her fears. As the snow fell outside, Y/n silently hoped that she could find the courage to hold on to the love they were rediscovering.

As the horse let out a low, familiar whinny behind them, both Steve and Y/n froze. The sound triggered a memory so vivid it felt like stepping back in time.

It had been a sweltering summer night years ago, the kind of night where the air felt electric and alive. They’d snuck out to the barn after a party, giggling like children as they dared each other to step into the quiet, shadowy space.

Steve remembered how Y/n had laughed, teasing him about being nervous, though her own hands trembled slightly. He’d pulled her close, their laughter fading as the tension between them shifted, the magnetic pull undeniable. One moment, they were talking; the next, they were kissing—passionate and all-consuming. They’d stumbled back into one of the horse stalls, too caught up in the heat of the moment to care about anything else.

For Y/n, the memory brought a rush of warmth and embarrassment all at once. She remembered the way Steve’s hands had roamed, hesitant at first but growing bolder as they explored. She’d been just as eager, tracing the contours of his jaw, his shoulders, their breaths mingling in the thick summer air. It had been thrilling, terrifying, and perfect all at once.

Now, standing in the same barn, the weight of that memory pressed down on them like a tangible force. Their eyes met, the past and present colliding in a way neither of them could ignore. Y/n’s heart raced as she saw the flicker of recognition in Steve’s gaze.

“Do you remember—” she began, her voice barely a whisper.

“The horse stall,” Steve finished, his voice rough with emotion. “Yeah, I remember.”

Y/n let out a nervous laugh, but it quickly died in her throat. The tension between them was palpable, and she could feel her resolve wavering. Her instincts took over before she could think better of it.

She stepped closer, closing the already small gap between them. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” she admitted softly, her eyes locked on his.

Steve’s breath hitched, and before he could respond, Y/n stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was nothing like the one they’d shared as teenagers. This one was deeper, richer, laced with years of longing, heartbreak, and unspoken feelings. Steve’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer, while Y/n’s fingers slid into his hair, anchoring herself to him.

For a moment, time ceased to exist. The barn, the snow outside, the complications of their lives—all of it faded, leaving only the two of them and the undeniable connection they shared.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, Steve rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Y/n.”

Her heart ached at his words, but for the first time in years, she felt a spark of hope. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling.

“So am I,” Steve said, cupping her cheek gently. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Y/n nodded, her fears momentarily silenced by the warmth of his touch and the promise in his words. For now, that was enough.

~*~

The snow crunched beneath Y/n's boots as she made her way to Steve's house on Christmas Eve, her breath puffing in the crisp air. The cabin stood warm and inviting against the wintry backdrop, its windows glowing softly. Y/n knocked on the door, and it opened to reveal Steve, his face lighting up at the sight of her.

"You're here," he said, stepping aside to let her in.

"You asked for help," she replied with a teasing smile. "I couldn't leave you to ruin Christmas on your own."

Steve laughed, his voice deep and warm. "Well, I appreciate it. There’s still plenty to do."

The hours passed in a blur of shared chores and easy laughter. Y/n helped Steve arrange the decorations, hang stockings, and prepare the dining table. They worked side by side in the kitchen, bickering playfully over recipes. Y/n couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so comfortable, so at home.

As the sun began to set, painting the snowy landscape in hues of gold and pink, Y/n found herself in Steve's bedroom, tidying up while Steve finished setting up lights outside. She opened the closet to hang up a stray coat and froze.

There, tucked neatly among Steve’s shirts, was a familiar piece of fabric. She reached for it and pulled it out—a dark, elegant dress she hadn’t seen in years. The rip along the side was unmistakable. It was the dress she’d worn the night they’d surrendered to their passion in Steve’s bedroom all those years ago.

Her heart raced as memories flooded back: the heat of their kisses, the way Steve had looked at her as if she was the only thing that mattered in the world. She held the dress to her chest, her cheeks warming.

"Y/n?" Steve’s voice called from the hallway before he stepped into the room. His eyes immediately fell to the dress in her hands.

She turned to him, holding it up. "You kept this?"

Steve hesitated; his face tinged with vulnerability. "I couldn't let it go," he admitted quietly. "It was the only piece of you I had left, and... I needed something to hold on to."

Y/n’s throat tightened, her emotions warring within her. She took a step closer, her eyes locked on his. "You held on to this... all these years?"

Steve nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Because I never stopped loving you. Even when everything fell apart, I never stopped."

Y/n’s heart swelled, her defences crumbling. She closed the distance between them, reaching up to cup his face. "I’ve missed you, Steve. More than I can say."

He leaned into her touch, his hands settling on her waist as if she might slip away. "You don’t have to miss me anymore," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

Before she could think, her lips were on his, their kiss igniting a fire that had never truly gone out. Steve guided her to the bed, his hands reverent as they explored her, his kisses trailing across her skin. Y/n felt herself surrender completely, her fears and doubts forgotten in the warmth of his embrace.

The soft glow of Christmas lights casting warm patterns on the walls as Y/n lay beneath Steve. Their connection was electric, every touch and kiss charged with years of longing, love, and a passion that refused to fade.

As they reached the peak of their shared pleasure, Steve, breathless and overwhelmed, held her close, his strong arms cradling her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. When he looked down at her, he saw tears glistening in her eyes, streaking down her flushed cheeks.

Panic flickered across his face. “Y/n?” he asked softly, his voice shaky with concern. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head quickly, her lips trembling as she cupped his face in her hands. “No, Steve. No, you didn’t hurt me,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way. Since I’ve felt so loved, so whole. You make me feel incredible.”

Relief washed over Steve, and his features softened. He brushed away her tears with the pad of his thumb, pressing his forehead gently against hers. “You mean everything to me, Y/n,” he murmured, his breath warm against her lips. “I’ve missed this, missed you. I love you so much.”

Y/n’s tears turned into a soft, watery laugh, and she kissed him deeply, pouring every bit of her love and gratitude into the kiss. “I love you too, Steve,” she said when they pulled apart. “More than words can say.”

Steve pulled her into his arms, rolling onto his side so they lay tangled together, their bodies warm under the sheets. He held her close, running his fingers through her hair and pressing gentle kisses to her temple as they lay in the quiet aftermath of their reunion.

For the first time in years, Y/n felt truly at home, safe in the arms of the man who had always been her heart’s truest desire.

"I think this might be the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had," she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips tracing patterns on Steve’s chest with her fingers.

Steve kissed her forehead, pulling her closer. "Mine too," he whispered.

The warmth of their bodies, their steady breathing, and the quiet intimacy filled the space with a sense of peace. Yet her mind churned with unresolved emotions.

"I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive him," she murmured, her voice tinged with sadness.

Steve’s hand gently ran through her hair, his touch soothing. "It’s okay to feel that way, sweetheart. He hurt you, and it’s going to take time. Don’t rush yourself."

Tears prickled at her eyes, but she blinked them away. "You know, sometimes I think about how different things could’ve been if... if he hadn’t interfered. If we hadn’t broken up." Her voice wavered, and she paused before continuing. "I would’ve been here, Steve. With you. And Emma... she could’ve been mine."

Steve’s chest rose and fell with a deep sigh, and he tilted her chin up so their eyes met. "Y/n, I think about that too. All the time. But we can’t change the past. All we can do is figure out how to move forward. Together."

Her eyes searched his, finding nothing but sincerity and love. "What happens when I go back to New York?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve’s thumb brushed her cheek, his expression thoughtful but determined. "We figure it out, one step at a time. Long distance won’t be easy, but if this—" he gestured between them, "—means as much to you as it does to me, then we’ll make it work. Somehow."

Y/n nodded, her emotions a tangled mess of hope, fear, and longing. She sat up slightly, her hair cascading over her shoulders, and looked down at Steve with a tender smile. "Then let’s make the most of the time I’m here."

Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his, a kiss that started sweet but quickly deepened into something more. She hovered over him, her hands on either side of his face as she poured every unspoken emotion into the kiss.

Steve’s hands slid along her back, pulling her closer as their kiss grew more fervent. Their breaths mingled; their movements synchronized as they lost themselves in each other once again.

In the quiet sanctuary of that room, Y/n and Steve allowed themselves to be vulnerable, to heal through their connection. And as the evening stretched on, their passion burned brighter, a promise that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

~*~

The cozy warmth of Steve's cabin was filled with laughter and the scent of mulled wine and freshly baked pies as Y/n and Steve welcomed their friends for the Christmas gathering. Nat, Wanda, Bucky, and Bruce gathered in the living room, the fire crackling softly in the background, casting a golden glow on everyone’s faces.

As soon as Y/n walked in with a tray of cookies, her cheeks faintly pink from the cold, Wanda’s keen eyes narrowed playfully. She nudged Nat and whispered, “Do you see that glow? Something’s different.”

Nat smirked, leaning closer. “Oh, I see it. And it’s not just her. Look at Rogers over there, practically floating.”

Y/n didn’t miss the way her friends exchanged knowing glances, but she played it cool, offering cookies and casually chatting as if her heart wasn’t still racing from earlier moments with Steve.

Meanwhile, Bucky and Steve were in the kitchen, ostensibly refilling drinks but mostly talking in low tones. Or rather, Bucky was talking.

“So” Bucky began, leaning against the counter with a mischievous grin. “You’re glowing, Steve. Care to explain?”

Steve didn’t look up from the cider he was pouring. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb with me,” Bucky teased, crossing his arms. “You and Y/n. Something happened, didn’t it?”

Steve tried to maintain a neutral expression, but the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

Bucky let out a bark of laughter. “I knew it! You dog! What did you do, propose to her under the mistletoe? Finally tell her you’ve been pining after her for years?”

Steve shot him a look, though there was no real annoyance behind it. “It’s not like that. We’re... we’re figuring things out.”

“Figuring things out, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Steve groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can you not make a big deal out of this? We’re taking things slow.”

Bucky leaned in, his grin widening. “Yeah, real slow. You’ve been mooning over her since high school, Steve. I’m just saying it’s about time. But hey, if you need any pointers—”

“Bucky,” Steve interrupted, his tone both exasperated and amused.

“Fine, fine,” Bucky said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But I’m not the only one who’s noticed. The girls are definitely onto you two.”

Back in the living room, Nat and Wanda were interrogating Y/n with their own brand of teasing.

“So, Y/n,” Wanda began, feigning innocence. “What’s new? You look... radiant.”

Y/n tried to brush it off, focusing on arranging a tray of snacks. “It’s just the holiday spirit.”

“Holiday spirit, my ass,” Nat chimed in with a smirk. “Spill. Did something happen between you and Steve?”

Y/n’s cheeks flamed, and she opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment, Steve and Bucky returned with the drinks.

Bucky wasted no time. “Ladies, did you notice our boy Steve here? Doesn’t he look... lighter? Happier?”

Wanda and Nat burst into laughter as Steve groaned. Y/n covered her face with her hands, shaking her head, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

“Alright, alright,” Steve said, raising a hand. “Can we not make this into a thing?”

“Oh, but it is a thing,” Wanda said, grinning. “And we’re very happy for you both.”

Nat raised her glass. “To Y/n and Steve. Finally figuring it out.”

The evening buzzed with the sound of laughter and holiday cheer as the group of friends sat around Steve’s cozy living room, the soft glow of fairy lights reflecting off the windows. The Christmas gathering had been a heartwarming success so far, with Nat cracking jokes, Bucky bantering endlessly, and Wanda and Bruce sharing stories of their recent escapades.

As the evening wore on, a knock on the door drew everyone’s attention. Steve got up to answer it, and Y/n instinctively straightened up on the couch. When the door opened to reveal Tony, Pepper, Morgan, and Emma, Y/n felt a pang of nervousness tighten in her chest.

Tony stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Y/n. There was a brief, tense pause before Pepper gently nudged him. With an awkward cough, Tony approached his daughter.

“Hey, kid,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

Y/n hesitated, the tension between them still palpable, but she mustered a small smile and stepped forward. “Hi, Dad.”

She wrapped her arms around him in a tentative hug, her heart heavy with the weight of their unresolved issues. “Merry Christmas,” she said softly.

“Merry Christmas, Y/n,” Tony replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Pepper stepped in with a warm smile, hugging Y/n tightly. “It’s so good to see you, sweetheart.”

Morgan and Emma bounced in behind them, their energy a stark contrast to the adults’ careful exchanges. Emma’s eyes lit up when she saw Y/n.

“Y/n!” Emma squealed, running to her and throwing her arms around her waist. Y/n knelt to hug the little girl, her heart melting at the sight of Emma’s excitement.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Y/n said, brushing a hand through Emma’s blonde curls.

Emma looked up at her with hopeful eyes. “Are you staying the night? Please say yes!”

Before Y/n could respond, Steve’s deep voice cut in from behind her. “She’s staying.”

Y/n turned to look at him, her brow raising in surprise. Steve gave her a small, reassuring smile, and before she could protest, Emma let out a delighted cheer and clung to Y/n’s neck.

“We’re a family!” Emma exclaimed, her voice filled with pure joy.

Y/n felt her throat tighten as the weight of Emma’s innocent words hit her. She hugged Emma closer, her heart swelling with emotion.

Tony watched the scene unfold, his eyes softening as he saw the genuine connection between Y/n and Emma. Pepper placed a gentle hand on his arm, whispering, “Give her time. She’ll come around.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of warmth and laughter. Y/n stayed close to Emma, helping her with a plate of cookies and listening to her excited chatter about Christmas morning. Steve caught Y/n’s eye several times, their unspoken connection growing stronger with every shared glance.

As the night wound down, Y/n tucked Emma into bed, the little girl clinging to her hand until she fell asleep. When Y/n finally returned to the living room, she found Steve waiting for her by the fire.

“She’s happy when you’re around,” he said softly, his gaze steady.

Y/n looked down, her emotions swirling. “I’m happy when I’m around her too.”

Steve reached out, taking her hand in his. “We’ll figure it out, Y/n. Together.”

Y/n nodded, her heart cautiously hopeful as the warmth of the fire and the promise of new beginnings enveloped them both.

~*~

The winter holidays came to an end too soon, leaving behind a trail of cherished memories and bittersweet goodbyes. Y/n packed her bags reluctantly, dreading the moment she would leave Steve and Emma to return to her life in New York. The drive to the train station was quiet, filled with stolen glances and held hands. Steve kissed her goodbye with a promise, “We’ll make this work. I love you.”

Y/n smiled through the tears brimming in her eyes. “I love you too. We’ll figure it out.”

Back in New York, Y/n threw herself into work, her days packed with meetings, deadlines, and the bustling city life. But no matter how busy she got, there was always a moment she carved out for Steve and Emma.

Every evening, like clockwork, she would FaceTime them. The calls became a ritual, something the three of them cherished deeply. Emma would eagerly grab Steve’s phone, her small face lighting up the moment she saw Y/n’s face on the screen.

“Y/n!” Emma would squeal, recounting her day in vivid detail, from school adventures to her latest attempts at drawing horses—something she and Y/n had bonded over during the holidays.

Steve would join in after Emma was done chatting, his deep voice a soothing presence on the other end of the call. They would talk about their days, laugh at silly inside jokes, and share quiet moments where words weren’t needed.

For Emma, the separation was the hardest. She missed Y/n’s hugs, her stories, and the comfort she brought. Steve noticed the subtle sadness in his daughter’s eyes when she realized Y/n wasn’t there in person. He tried his best to keep her spirits high, from spontaneous ice cream nights to cozy father-daughter movie marathons, but Emma would always end the day asking, “When will Y/n visit again?”

On tougher days, when Emma’s longing became too much, Steve would sit with her, holding her close as she rested her head on his chest. “Y/n misses you too, Em,” he would tell her gently. “We’ll see her soon, I promise.”

Y/n, too, felt the pangs of distance. On quieter nights, she would look out at the city lights, missing the warmth of Steve’s arms and the sound of Emma’s laughter. But they made it work—sending each other silly photos, voice notes, and even surprise packages.

The first few months were an adjustment, but the love they shared kept them grounded. Steve and Y/n both knew the road wouldn’t always be easy, but they were committed to navigating it together.

By spring, Y/n had planned her next trip back to the ranch, a visit both Emma and Steve eagerly counted down to. Until then, the daily calls, heartfelt messages, and unwavering support from their friends kept their bond strong.

They weren’t just figuring out a long-distance relationship—they were building a foundation for a life together, one step at a time.

After the frosty months of estrangement, the air between Y/n and Tony had finally begun to thaw. It wasn’t perfect—there were still unsaid words and a lingering sense of betrayal—but it was progress. And at the heart of their tentative reconciliation was Pepper, the ever-patient mediator who skilfully navigated the emotional terrain between her husband and stepdaughter.

Pepper often nudged Tony subtly, reminding him that reconciliation wasn’t just about apologies but also about action. Tony took her words to heart, and one evening, during a quiet dinner at the ranch, he presented Y/n with a proposal.

“I’ve been thinking about the future of this ranch,” Tony started, his voice carefully measured. “We’ve been doing great locally, but there’s room to grow, especially with a more structured supply chain. I need someone with sharp ideas and a strong work ethic to lead that effort. Someone like you.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. “Are you... offering me a job, Dad?”

Tony gave a small nod, his expression sincere. “Yes. I know you’re busy in New York, but this could be a way for us to work together—build something meaningful as a family. I’m not trying to pressure you, but I want you to know the doors open. Always.”

The words struck a chord in Y/n. She didn’t respond right away, instead mulling over the offer in the quiet of her bedroom later that night. She stared at the twinkling lights of the ranch, memories of her childhood swirling with the idea of a future back home.

She thought of Emma—how the little girl’s eyes lit up every time they spoke, how natural it felt to step into a motherly role for her. She thought of Steve—his steady presence, his love, and the life they’d started building together. And she thought of Tony, who, despite his flaws and the pain he’d caused, was genuinely trying to make amends.

When Y/n finally confided in Pepper about the offer, Pepper gave her a knowing smile. “He means well, Y/n/n. He knows he can’t undo the past, but this is his way of trying to build something better moving forward. No one can replace the time you lost, but maybe this is a chance to create something new.”

Pepper’s words stayed with Y/n as she started to consider the possibilities seriously. Could she truly leave behind the life she’d built in New York? Would moving back mean losing herself, or could it be a step toward the life she wanted—a life with family, love, and a sense of belonging?

As the days passed, Y/n’s heart and mind wrestled with the decision. She hadn’t given Tony an answer yet, but for the first time, she began to see a future where her career, her family, and her love for Steve all could coexist.

And maybe, just maybe, this was the fresh start she needed.

~*~

Years later, as Y/n stood at the edge of the sprawling ranch, the golden hues of the setting sun painting the horizon, she couldn’t help but marvel at how much her life had changed. The land, once just her father’s domain, now carried her mark, her vision woven into every fence, barn, and field. Taking Tony up on his offer all those years ago had been a leap of faith, but as she gazed out over the thriving ranch, she knew it was one of the best decisions she’d ever made.

The years had been filled with hard work and triumphs. She poured her heart into the business, working side by side with her father to expand their reach and modernize their operations. Over time, the resentment she had once harboured toward Tony softened, replaced by mutual respect and understanding. Eventually, she forgave him completely, and their relationship became one of genuine closeness.

Her personal life blossomed alongside her professional success. Steve and her officially became a family, their love for each other stronger than ever. Emma, once a shy little girl, grew up under Y/n’s nurturing care, thriving in the warmth of their united household. She became more than a stepmother to Emma; she was her rock, her confidant, and her greatest supporter.

She smiled, remembering the laughter and joy they’d shared over the years. Bucky and Wanda’s wedding had been a highlight, a celebration filled with dancing, teasing, and promises of forever. She could still hear Emma’s giggles as she twirled around in her flower girl dress, and the pride in Steve’s voice as he toasted his best friend.

Then there was the day Natasha announced her pregnancy. Y/n laughed aloud at the memory of Nat’s dramatic reveal at a dinner gathering, followed by Bruce’s sheepish yet beaming smile. Their group of friends, once a band of carefree teenagers, was now a circle of parents, spouses, and mentors.

Emma and Morgan grew inseparable over the years, Morgan looking up to her big sister with stars in her eyes. Y/n had a front-row seat to their adventures and milestones, from their first horseback rides to late-night study sessions. Morgan’s admiration for Emma reminded Y/n of the bond she once longed for with a sibling, and it filled her heart to see the girls so close.

But the greatest joy of all came when Y/n became a mother again. Steve and her welcomed twins, a beautiful baby boy and baby girl who completed their family in ways Y/n hadn’t even realized were possible. The house was alive with the sounds of children’s laughter, the clatter of tiny feet, and the warmth of a love that had weathered every storm.

Olivia was the perfect blend of Steve and Y/n. She had her father’s piercing blue eyes and strong jawline but carried her mother’s warm, mischievous smile and expressive mannerisms. She was inquisitive and fearless, always trying to keep up with her siblings, but with a sweetness that melted hearts instantly.

Her twin brother, Ethan, was another story. He was all Y/n—sharp-witted, endlessly curious, and a bit headstrong. He had Y/n’s eyes and infectious laughter but a softer disposition that reminded everyone of Steve. Together, the twins were an unstoppable duo, their personalities complementing each other as they navigated toddlerhood with endless energy and curiosity.

Y/n smiled as she thought about Emma, now a teenager, stepping into her own and showing such grace as a big sister. Morgan often called Emma her role model, which always made Y/n’s heart swell. And then there were Ethan and Olivia, her mischievous three-year-old twins, who brought boundless energy and joy into every corner of their lives.

The sound of boots on the wooden porch pulled Y/n from her thoughts. She didn’t need to look back to know who it was.

“Admiring your kingdom again?” Steve’s voice came, low and teasing, as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

She leaned back into his embrace with a contented sigh. “Just taking it all in. It’s crazy, isn’t it? How everything fell into place.”

Steve kissed the side of her head, his beard tickling her cheek. “Not crazy. You worked your butt off for this. You deserve every bit of it.”

Y/n turned in his arms, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Says the hot lumberjack who made it all possible.”

Steve chuckled, pulling her closer. “Hot lumberjack, huh? I seem to remember a certain stubborn Stark who wouldn’t take no for an answer when she decided to transform this place.”

Y/n laughed, swatting his chest lightly. “Stubborn Rogers now, thank you very much.”

“Stubborn and beautiful,” Steve said, leaning in for a kiss.

Y/n and Steve were mid-kiss, their shared moment of quiet intimacy filled with the warmth of their love and the sound of their kids playing inside, when the door suddenly burst open.

“Mama! Daddy!” Ethan’s voice rang out as he sprinted inside, his little feet thundering across the hardwood floor. Behind him came Emma, Morgan, and Olivia, who was trailing behind with a big grin and messy hair.

Emma was the first to notice the scene, her face breaking into a wide smile as she folded her arms. “Caught you!” she teased, her tone playful.

Morgan, ever the cheeky one, joined in, hands on her hips. “Big sister Y/n getting all romantic. This is too much!”

Y/n let out a groan, her cheeks flushing with colour as she pulled away from Steve. “Oh, come on. You two are impossible.”

Steve chuckled, scooping Olivia up into his arms. She giggled, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck and looking at Y/n with an impish glint in her eye. “Mama and Daddy were kissing!” Olivia exclaimed proudly, as if it were the most scandalous thing she’d ever seen.

“Yes, Ollie, and it’s perfectly normal,” Y/n replied, trying to keep a straight face while suppressing her own laughter.

Ethan, now tugging on Y/n’s hand, tilted his head curiously. “Can we kiss too?”

Y/n knelt down, scooping Ethan into her arms with a warm smile. “Of course, my love.” She planted a soft kiss on his forehead, making him giggle before he wriggled free to run.

Morgan leaned against the door frame, smirking at Y/n. “I knew coming out here was the right call. You two are too adorable to handle.”

Y/n playfully swatted Morgan’s arm before pulling her and Emma into a warm hug. “All right, enough teasing. You two are worse than the kids sometimes.”

Steve walked over, still holding Olivia, who was now playing with the collar of his shirt. “Okay, gang, who’s ready for dinner?”

A chorus of “Me!” and “I’m hungry!” filled the air as the kids ran off inside toward the dining area. Y/n gave Steve a look of exasperated affection, shaking her head.

“You’re good at wrangling them, Rogers,” she teased, smoothing her coat.

Steve leaned in close, a playful smirk on his face. “Takes one to know one, Mrs. Rogers.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. She looped her arm through his as they followed their rambunctious crew toward the dining room, their home filled with laughter, teasing, and the unbreakable bond of family.

~*~

As Y/n stepped inside the warm glow of their home, the aroma of roasted turkey and freshly baked pies greeted her. The sound of laughter and chatter from the dining room made her smile as she took in the sight of her family and friends gathered around. The house was alive with joy, a testament to the love they had built and shared over the years.

Steve stood by the doorway, a mischievous grin on his face as Olivia sat proudly on his shoulders. Her tiny hands gripped his hair, and her giggles echoed through the room. "Mama!" Olivia called out, her face lighting up as she spotted Y/n.

Steve wiggled his eyebrows playfully. "I think this one is claiming your spot as her favourite, babe."

Y/n laughed, walking over to gently poke Olivia’s belly, earning a fit of giggles from her daughter. "Oh, she knows who spoils her the most," She teased back.

Meanwhile, Ethan came barrelling toward Y/n, his cheeks puffed out with candies he had sneakily swiped from the dessert table. “Mama, look!” he mumbled through his stuffed mouth, holding up another piece of candy like a trophy.

“Ethan James Rogers,” Y/n said in mock sternness, crouching down to his level, “are you sneaking sweets before dinner again?”

Ethan nodded unapologetically, his big eyes twinkling with mischief. Steve shook his head, laughing. “That’s your son, alright.”

“Definitely yours,” Y/n shot back with a wink, scooping Ethan into her arms.

As they moved toward the dining room, Bucky’s voice boomed, “Look who finally decided to join us! Took you long enough, Rogers clan.”

“Hey, someone had to wrestle these two into decent clothes,” Steve retorted, tickling Olivia’s sides, making her squeal with delight.

Natasha rolled her eyes with a smirk, bouncing Bucky and Wanda’s one-year-old son on her hip. “And yet Y/n looks flawless, as always. Teach him your secrets, girl.”

Y/n waved her off with a laugh, setting Ethan down as he made a beeline for Morgan and Emma, who were attempting to keep a tower of gingerbread from collapsing on the dessert table.

Pepper and Tony were seated at the head of the table, watching the chaos with fond smiles. Tony leaned toward Pepper, whispering loud enough for Y/n to hear, “Told you this ranch would be the heart of everything.”

Pepper patted his hand. “You got one thing right, Tony,” she teased, sharing a knowing look with Y/n.

The evening unfolded in a symphony of laughter, clinking glasses, and friendly banter. Bucky and Wanda exchanged playful jabs about whose kids were better behaved, while Bruce tried—and failed—to mediate. Natasha and Steve had a competitive debate over who would win in a snowball fight, and Y/n found herself pulled into planning the inevitable showdown for the next day.

As the evening wound down and the fire crackled in the background, Y/n looked around the room. Her heart swelled as she watched her family and friends, the people who had been there through thick and thin, now all intertwined in this beautiful, chaotic life.

Steve caught her gaze and walked over, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked softly.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, her heart full. “Just thinking about how lucky we are.”

Steve kissed her forehead, Olivia now asleep on his shoulder, her little hand clutching his sweater. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

Y/n nodded, watching Ethan climb onto Bucky’s lap as Emma and Morgan whispered secrets across the table. “And it’s only going to get better.”

As they stood there together, surrounded by love and laughter, Y/n knew she had everything she’d ever dreamed of and more. The family she thought she’d lost, the love she thought was out of reach, and the life that had fallen into place perfectly—all of it was hers.

[stellar-solar-flare]

Stella's Starry Winter Sky - Masterlist

This is a masterlist for the works that have been submitted for the Stella's Starry Winter Sky Writing Challenge. The challenge is open until the end of February 2025 (if you need more time, send a message, we'll see what we can do).

Fics listed in order of publishing date.

Home For The Holidays by @wild-typo-turtle | Steve Rogers x Reader.

On your way home from work, you see a mysterious door. And since you're the only one who can see it, there's really only one call you can make... Themes: Meet-cute, Reader has a secret, other worlds.

Malogranatum by @stellar-solar-flare (18+ content) | Steve Rogers x mob boss!Reader.

“You know there are lines I do not cross,” you said. Dark romance with themes of obsessive love. AU - canon divergence & mob themes.

Back to December by @zaraomarrogers (18+ content) | Lumberjack!single dad!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Steve and Y/n's story is one of love, heartbreak, and reconciliation. Once deeply in love, their young romance ended when Y/n’s father, Tony, interfered, believing they needed to focus on their individual futures. Devastated, Steve enlisted in the army and later became a single father to Emma, who became his anchor during difficult times.

Don't see your work listed? Please let me know!

[stellar-solar-flare]

Hey Stella, I hope I’m not late to be part of your winter event, firstly, a very happy belated birthday 🎉 hope this year will bring you lots more happiness and joy ❤️

I saw your winter event post last night and almost instantly I knew what I wanted to do. Just a quick question, am I suppose to pick each from all three categories??

I’m hoping to work on it tonight after work.

Hi, thank you for the birthday wishes! You're not too late, the Stella's Starry Winter Sky event is running until the end of February. Fics are accepted until then, and I am also taking requests until then!

You only need to choose a character and one prompt from whichever category you want to - feel free to ignore the other categories! The prompt you can be from any category.

If you want to, you can add prompts from other categories to your fic/request but you don't have to. The only limit is that you can only include one prompt from each category. So "Steve + birthday + Academia AU + 'Is that what you're wearing?'" is fine because it has three prompts from three categories but "Steve + birthday + blind date + chaotic shenanigans" is not since it has more than one prompt from a single category.

I hope this helps, please let me know if you have any other questions, and thank you for your interest in my event.

[stellar-solar-flare]

Hey Stella, hope you’re doing well. Just wanted to let you know that I have submitted my entry for your Stella’s starry sky event.

It’s no pressure ask, you can check out my entry for you on your own time. Just wanted to let you know if I’d done the tagging right?

Have wonderful day, dear ❤️

Hi Zara!

I saw your submission and you did the tagging absolutely right, no worries. I just haven't had a chance to be on tumblr a ton, hence not reacting to it. But I am aware of it and it'll be added to the challenge masterlist and reblogged to my blog once I have the chance to properly sit down and go over everything in my notes.

Thank you for the submission and the message, and I hope you have a great weekend!

[late-to-the-party-81]

😳🤯

So good, Stella!!!

For your event!!!

Steve + Mob AU + ”Would you really do that for me?” + nefarious

Thank you ☺️❤️

Thank you for sending in a prompt to my event, Siri! This took a bit of a turn in my head but I hope you still enjoy it. I had a lot of fun writing it.

Malogranatum | S. R.

soft dark!Avenger!Steve Rogers x mob boss!Reader | 2,417 words.

Explicit - 18+ only. Dark romance with themes of obsessive love. AU - canon divergence & mob themes.

Story Content Warnings: Explicit sexual fantasies, obsessive/unhealthy dynamics, cold-blooded violence, murder, organized crime, discussions of human trafficking / modern slavery, references to mythology including biblical mythology, soft dark Steve Rogers, soft dark Reader.

Read the tags and warnings and do not proceed if anything about them upsets you. Your media consumption is your responsibility.

Reader is female, no description of appearance beyond a mention of her wearing heels, dress, and makeup. No use of Y/N. I imagine she's somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties, about the same age as Steve - but it isn't mentioned in the text.

Notes: There is something about the dark side of canon Steve that continues to enchant me, and my take on the prompt I got was born out of that curiosity. I enjoyed playing with a darker Reader character and the themes of a more obsessive, unhealthier love that is still born out of shared views of the world. I hope you enjoy, and of course, I am always excited to hear from you so please leave a comment if you can spare the time and energy.

Malogranatum is one of the Latin forms of the word 'pomegranate'

I do not own anything Marvel related. This is an unofficial fan work. No copyright infringement intended. This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental.

No one except you could look so perfectly nonchalant when stepping over a dead body while wearing five-inch designer heels.

A woman like you didn’t belong in a dump like this — it had hardly been a three-star hotel when it had been in business use, and what was left now had been deemed unsafe years ago. Now, the lobby was musty and covered in dust and grime, and now, thanks to Steve himself, blood.

As always, you were immaculate; no smudge on your blood-red lipstick, no stray hairs sticking out of your hairdo. A trench coat was draped over your shoulders, revealing a well-tailored dress underneath as you walked towards Steve. You could’ve as well been on your way to attend some upper-crust cocktail party.

“I should’ve known you’d come,” Steve said through gritted teeth.

Your security detail — a colossal blond man whom Steve had never heard utter a word, dressed in a sharp suit that seemed to only highlight his bruteness — stopped behind the body you’d just stepped over. The body was resting with his face down, and the man turned it over with his foot.

Steve looked away. His vision was still flashing in red, wine, maroon. Behind the shield that was fastened onto his button-down-covered arm, he clenched his fist tighter. He, too, was in civilian clothes — it hadn’t been intended to come down to an ambush at all, let alone with just him with no backup. It had been supposed to be a simple stakeout, a covert operation that’d determine if he would come back with reinforcements.

It hadn’t been intended to come down to a dead body and another at the brink of it.  

“I keep tabs on my enemies,” you said, glancing at the still-living man on the floor — now reduced to a whimpering mess curled up in a fetal position on the filthy rug.

“Me included?” Steve scoffed.

“Are we enemies, Captain Rogers?” you said as you stepped closer to him. “I see no reason why we should be.”

“I could have you dragged into the Tower just for the fact that you are here.”

A half-smile curved your lip up. The expensive, intoxicating note of your perfume drifted up Steve’s nose as you reached him. He inhaled it; it covered the thick iron stench of blood.

Blood that still dripped from the edge of the shield that he’d strapped back onto his arm.

“Again? If not even Romanoff can find anything to incriminate me… I’m starting to think you have a crush on me, to be so eager to lock me into an interrogation room and get up, close, and personal.”

It certainly wasn’t a crush, whatever it was that kept him up at night ever since he had started running into you.

“What about this situation is funny to you?”

“In my line of work, you develop quite the sense of humor,” you chuckled.

“Work, you call it?” Steve said, and you gave him a smile full of secrets.

“Pays the bills,” you said, shrugging as you craned your neck to examine the still-breathing man on the ground.

His whimpers had turned into gargled sobs, his shoulders shaking as if he was having some sort of seizure. Steve still didn’t know how hard he had hit him — he had caught the sight of him, standing here and laughing with his henchman, and everything had gone blind, scorching white, a supernova burning down everything from its path.

“What are you here for? I imagine a businesswoman such as you is much too busy to simply be here to chitchat. Did you come to gloat?”

“And why would I do that, when you have solved a pesky problem for me,” you said. “Have been trying to figure out a way to take him out of the game without a risk for collateral damage.”

“To you?” he replied, even as he knew what you were talking about by the tension of your jaw.

“To them,” you said, nudging your head up towards the ceiling.

He wasn’t sure if the people had heard the commotion downstairs — but even if they had, they wouldn’t have dared to ask questions. Steve wasn’t sure how many had been lured in in total, how many had already been sold to the highest bidder, and the thought summoned a newfound cloud of red mist into his head.

“Well aren’t you the beacon of morality, defender of the innocents,” Steve scoffed. “I know how red your hands are. I may not be able to prove it but I know.”

In reply, you rested your eyes on the bloodied shield and the bruises, already healing, on Steve’s knuckles, and he gritted his teeth hard enough to bite through iron.

“What are you doing here?” he continued, grasping for some edge into his voice.

He stepped closer to you, leaning into your personal space, and he heard your security detail shift before you held out a hand, signaling the bodyguard to stand down.

You looked at Steve, your eyes bright, your mouth slightly parted, and Steve remembered the Sunday school stories about the beauty of fallen angels, of the temptation of sin, of the redness of that cursed apple.

How sweet would the first bite of damnation taste on his tongue?

“I’m here to propose a deal,” you said, as if Steve’s presence or the violence that brimmed in his body, threatening to spill over, was having no effect on you at all.

“A deal?” Steve raised his brow. “Let me take a wild guess. You make this go away, and I become your little puppet.”

“I am simply offering to take out your trash,” you said, a smirk dancing on your lips. “No strings attached.”

“What do you get out of it?” he said, and you raised your brow in turn.

“You get to keep doing what you’re doing. He’s not the only one with similar ambitions; there is yet bigger fish in the sea. And I cannot… devote all my attention to this matter, as I do have my business to run.”

“And conveniently, less hands grasping whatever cake it is you’re splitting among yourselves in the shadows means a bigger slice for you. I’m supposed to believe you’re some sort of a Robin Hood, huh?”

The words had a bite to them, but he had poured over your case enough times to know that while you were no moral beacon, no Robin Hood, you did have a code of ethics. It certainly didn’t align with the moral of the law, but the compass that guided you was there. If the intel was right on you, you were good at avoiding what you had called collateral damage.

A sudden chill overtook your features.

“You know there are lines I do not cross,” you said.

Breathtaking. Beautiful, and treacherous, like the night itself. Steve swallowed past his dry throat. He shouldn’t be entertaining any of this, and whatever it was that had gotten him so tangled with you, he should nip it in the bud.

Too late for that.

“He should get a fair trial just like anyone else,” Steve said to bring his thoughts back to the matter at hand. “Regardless of if he’s a rabid animal or not.”

You tilted your head, quirking your brow. Steve forced his eyes to stay away from the tendons of your neck, forced himself not to wonder if the column of your throat held places that’d make you moan if he feathered them with his lips.

“Oh no, Rogers. He is quite human. No other species on earth is capable of such calculated cruelty.”

You huffed as if the thought amused you, and Steve knew that you were right. Perhaps that was what today had been. His cup finally spilling over, and all the lava that had gathered over the decades taking down everything that laid on its path.

“And I will face whatever consequences that come for me, too,” Steve continued to avoid acknowledging your words.

He tried to push the sound of breaking bone out of his head, tried to pretend there hadn’t been a part of him that had cherished every punch, gloried in the righteous violence. The SHIELD had been on these bastards for months on end, and he remembered every disgusting detail of their deeds. And when he had finally been given a chance to strike, alone, he had found himself desiring not for justice but for revenge.

“They’ll toss you onto the Raft,” you said. “And what for? For dishing this scum a small portion of what he’s been serving to others.”

Steve jolted; victory flashed in your eyes as he did.

“How do you —”

“I told you, Rogers, I keep tabs on my enemies,” you replied.

“I thought you said we are not enemies.”

“I wasn’t talking about you,” you said, and for a moment, your face grew entirely serious. “There is something fishy going on at SHIELD. I don’t know what it is yet, but it’s there.”

Steve drew a breath at that. The warning… He didn’t want to admit it but something about it seemed to hum in tune with some instinctual thought in the back of his head.

“You have people on the inside.”

“You say that like you’re surprised,” you said, and the smile was back.

“I am not,” he said, the words delivered with the smallest hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth.

You took a step closer, almost close enough for your chest to brush against his. You tilted your head softly to the side, as you spoke quietly almost into his lips, and something just as all-consuming as the rage he had felt earlier shot through his veins. He could barely stop himself from leaning closer, reaching for your mouth with his, as your perfume wrapped around him.

“Our interests align, Rogers,” you breathed. “I would hate seeing my plans fall apart just because of something like him. An unfortunate incident; a little slip-up; an occupational hazard, almost. They might give him a fair trial but you will never get one. Is he really worth throwing away all the good deeds you could do, all the lives you are yet to save so you can rot on the Raft in martyrdom?”

An ice-cold current in Steve recognized the logic; agreed with it. The man that he struck down would never give someone else anything resembling fair — why should he himself get anything better?

“Would you really do that for me?” he asked.

“You look good with blood on your face,” you whispered as if it explained everything, and maybe it did.

Your hand rose slowly up, your warm fingertips gently brushing along the line of Steve’s jaw. A fresh whiff of your perfume reached his nose — musk, dark flowery notes, pomegranates — and it was the part of him that had walked through the battlefields of the Second World War and lived that made the decision.

He nodded, and your eyes sparkled with dark light.

The crisp taste of apple filled his mouth, and he wanted nothing more than he wanted it — to grab the wrist of the hand that was touching him and pull you into a crushing kiss. He yearned for all the ways he could make you sing his name, make you drip and beg and cry out for him — to make you burn in the raging turmoil of lust that had consumed him these past months. He wanted to keep you on the knife-sharp edge between desperation and bliss, he wanted you to ride him with a blade pressed against his throat, he wanted to be deemed worthy of your bed and worthy of sinking himself all the way to the hilt inside you.

Oh, how sweet it would be to fall from grace just to have a taste of you.

“Give me twenty minutes and call in the cavalry,” you said, and maybe you knew where his thoughts were, but nothing about your voice or your expression was betraying it.

“I got an anonymous tip,” he said, and he was still not moving away from you even as the thoughts were forming.

“I’ll have someone call your work number; untraceable, of course,” you continued. “And when you got here…”

“No trace of them; just signs of struggle and bloodstains.”

He didn’t want to feel the smile that was spreading onto his lips; he knew it didn’t reach his eyes, and he didn’t want it to. It was not a true smile — it was how a predator showed their teeth.

He should not have, and yet he didn’t find it in him to feel regret.

You took a step back and turned towards your security detail, who nodded, understanding some wordless message, and gave the whimpering man on the floor a sharp kick in the ribs. The impact was enough to turn him over — he had no strength for anything other than a pathetic gurgle — and Steve saw your brows rise just a millimeter when you looked at the bloody mess. Another one of those tiny smiles tugged your lips, and then it was gone as you reached inside your coat.

A picture of cold wrath; a goddess of destruction.

The gun you drew was a black pistol with a silencer screwed onto it; an elegant weapon, looking almost sophisticated, and yet deadly like a viper. You extended your arm with the ease of practiced routine, aiming straight between the man’s eyes, and pulled the trigger. Every movement had come with the indifference of inevitability.

You put the gun back where it had come from while your bodyguard threw the body over his shoulder and grabbed the other by the lapels of its coat — as if he was doing a task no different than dragging out two heavy bags of potatoes. He started making his way towards the door, and you turned to Steve.

There was a sleek white business card in your hand, and you slipped it into the chest pocket of Steve’s shirt. Even through the fabric, he could feel the warmth of your hand.

“Pleasure doing business with you, Captain Rogers,” you said, granting him one last smile of a seductress before you followed your security detail out of the door.

Steve stood there for a few minutes, staring at the new stain in the musty carpet. Then took the business card out of his pocket, bringing it up to his nose and inhaling deeply.

It smelled like you.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments keep the fic community alive, so consider leaving one.

TUMBLR MASTERLIST | AO3 | SEND AN ASK

[stellar-solar-flare]

Reblogging this for those who might've missed it! Also a reminder of the Wildcard Round aka me welcoming all sorts of questions and blurb requests on my fics.

WILDCARD ROUND!

Since this is my birthday event too – Happy Birthday to me on 9th of Dec! – you can also participate to this via The Wildcard Round. This one is all about me me me.

You can ask questions or request blurbs/headcanons/missing scenes/drabbles about any of my existing fics. (This includes stuff I've teased here but haven't yet published). My tumblr masterlist is HERE – my longfics are on AO3 HERE.

If you choose this option, you don’t have to heed to the prompt list – but you can use it, if you want to. On this round, you can send in more than one request/question!

The rules about about what content is accepted also apply here. I reserve the right to not write anything that makes me uncomfortable or doesn't spark the muse.

Stella's Starry Winter Sky

Welcome to the Stella’s Starry Winter Sky Event! This event is a celebration of our lovely Cap Quartet: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff.

Rules! (And other important stuff):

As I run a 18+ only blog, this challenge is only for users that are at least 18 years old.

You can participate either by 1) writing a fic using any of the prompts below, 2) sending one or more of the prompts below to me to request a fic. For requests, you can also include any further ideas you’d like to see in the finished fic, as long as your request has at least one of the prompts below.

This challenge is about celebrating the Cap Quartet, so please make at least one member of the Cap Quartet a central part of your fic.

Challenge will run from Monday 9th of December 2024 to Friday 28th of February 2025. No late submissions will be accepted. You can start sending in requests as soon as you see this post, but post any fics partaking the challenge on Monday 9th of December the earliest.

You can choose a maximum one thing from each prompt category, but you can skip categories / only use one thing. You can write as many fics as you’d like and don’t need to claim prompts – however, if you submit a request to me, only one per person, please.

Please use #stellasstarrywintersky when posting the fic; linking the challenge is appreciated, and you can also tag me if you'd like.

This challenge accepts both ”Character x Reader” and ”Character x OC” fics. If you write an OC fic, please add a link to an OC introduction post or provide all the necessary information in your fic. For requests, I only accept my OCs. You can use multiple characters in the fic and even have a ”Character x Character” pairing as a side pairing – so for example, a Steve x Reader fic with a Bucky/Nat side pairing.

What is not allowed in this challenge? No full dark (appropriately tagged soft!dark is welcome, I leave the it to the author to decide where the line goes), no cheating/infidelity, no minor characters in romantic or sexual situations, no non-con (dub-con is fine as long as it’s tagged – again, the line is at author’s discretion), no gore (MCU canon level violence is fine), no incest/bestiality/watersports/similar kinks. Ask if you are unsure.

Scenarios/tropes:  

birthday

blind date

chaotic shenanigans

cooking together

comforting one another

everyone ships it

exploring something new in bed together

fake marriage

friendly competition

hurt/comfort

idiots in love

it was supposed to be an one night stand

knight in shining armor

misunderstandings

movie night

moving in/out

night out

Reader is the newest Avenger

shopping together

soulmarks

Tony’s party

tending the other’s wounds

undercover

Valentine’s Day

Winter Holidays

AUs (you don’t need to choose an AU – canon-adjacent is fine):

Academia AU

Coffee Shop AU

Everyone Lives AU

Fairytale AU

Fantasy AU

Lumberjack AU

Medieval AU

Mob AU

Neighbor AU

Omegaverse AU

Sci-fi AU

Soulmate AU

Quotes:

”Is that what you’re wearing?”

”Come on, it’s going to be alright.”

”I really thought it’d be different this time.”

”But... how?”

”We shouldn’t.”

”Tell me about it.”

”That’s just disgustingly wholesome.”

”I... I’ll just go.”

”I dare you.”

”You’re a dead man.”

”Would you really do that for me?”

”At your service.”

”In another lifetime.”

”You look like a corpse.”

”I am praying for the sweet release of death.”

”It’s not your fault.”

”I was just wondering.”

”My treat.”

“I’m here.”

“I love you."

Words:

abate – to become less intense

alacritous – eager and cheerfully enthusiastic towards a task

benevolent – kind, good, well-meaning

capricious – someone who changes their mood and behavior suddenly/frequently

conjecture – an opinion that is formed without all the necessary information

deference – humility, submission, respect

eftsoons – an old-fashioned way to say ’soon afterward’

exigence – an urgent matter (need/demand)

fervor – strong/sincere/intense feelings

kindle – to set on fire

kith – one’s social circle (friends and relations and acquaintances)

mellifluous – something that sounds sweet and is pleasant to hear

nefarious – unethical, wicked, criminal

obdurate – stubborn about one’s opinions

petrichor – the pleasant smell of ground when it’s rained on

quixotic – something that is very impractical and idealistic

quell – to put an end to disorder by the use of force

spurious – something that is false or fake, not what it seems to be

tacit – understood without explicitly saying it out loud

ubiquitous – something that appears to be everywhere

WILDCARD ROUND!

Since this is my birthday event too – Happy Birthday to me on 9th of Dec! – you can also participate to this via The Wildcard Round. This one is all about me me me.

You can ask questions or request blurbs/headcanons/missing scenes/drabbles about any of my existing fics. (This includes stuff I've teased here but haven't yet published). My tumblr masterlist is HERE – my longfics are on AO3 HERE.

If you choose this option, you don’t have to heed to the prompt list – but you can use it, if you want to. On this round, you can send in more than one request/question!

The rules about about what content is accepted also apply here. I reserve the right to not write anything that makes me uncomfortable or doesn't spark the muse.

WELCOME! I look forward to your entries and requests.

[stellar-solar-flare]

Stella's Starry Winter Sky

Welcome to the Stella’s Starry Winter Sky Event! This event is a celebration of our lovely Cap Quartet: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff.

Rules! (And other important stuff):

As I run a 18+ only blog, this challenge is only for users that are at least 18 years old.

You can participate either by 1) writing a fic using any of the prompts below, 2) sending one or more of the prompts below to me to request a fic. For requests, you can also include any further ideas you’d like to see in the finished fic, as long as your request has at least one of the prompts below.

This challenge is about celebrating the Cap Quartet, so please make at least one member of the Cap Quartet a central part of your fic.

Challenge will run from Monday 9th of December 2024 to Friday 28th of February 2025. No late submissions will be accepted. You can start sending in requests as soon as you see this post, but post any fics partaking the challenge on Monday 9th of December the earliest.

You can choose a maximum one thing from each prompt category, but you can skip categories / only use one thing. You can write as many fics as you’d like and don’t need to claim prompts – however, if you submit a request to me, only one per person, please.

Please use #stellasstarrywintersky when posting the fic; linking the challenge is appreciated, and you can also tag me if you'd like.

This challenge accepts both ”Character x Reader” and ”Character x OC” fics. If you write an OC fic, please add a link to an OC introduction post or provide all the necessary information in your fic. For requests, I only accept my OCs. You can use multiple characters in the fic and even have a ”Character x Character” pairing as a side pairing – so for example, a Steve x Reader fic with a Bucky/Nat side pairing.

What is not allowed in this challenge? No full dark (appropriately tagged soft!dark is welcome, I leave the it to the author to decide where the line goes), no cheating/infidelity, no minor characters in romantic or sexual situations, no non-con (dub-con is fine as long as it’s tagged – again, the line is at author’s discretion), no gore (MCU canon level violence is fine), no incest/bestiality/watersports/similar kinks. Ask if you are unsure.

Scenarios/tropes:  

birthday

blind date

chaotic shenanigans

cooking together

comforting one another

everyone ships it

exploring something new in bed together

fake marriage

friendly competition

hurt/comfort

idiots in love

it was supposed to be an one night stand

knight in shining armor

misunderstandings

movie night

moving in/out

night out

Reader is the newest Avenger

shopping together

soulmarks

Tony’s party

tending the other’s wounds

undercover

Valentine’s Day

Winter Holidays

AUs (you don’t need to choose an AU – canon-adjacent is fine):

Academia AU

Coffee Shop AU

Everyone Lives AU

Fairytale AU

Fantasy AU

Lumberjack AU

Medieval AU

Mob AU

Neighbor AU

Omegaverse AU

Sci-fi AU

Soulmate AU

Quotes:

”Is that what you’re wearing?”

”Come on, it’s going to be alright.”

”I really thought it’d be different this time.”

”But... how?”

”We shouldn’t.”

”Tell me about it.”

”That’s just disgustingly wholesome.”

”I... I’ll just go.”

”I dare you.”

”You’re a dead man.”

”Would you really do that for me?”

”At your service.”

”In another lifetime.”

”You look like a corpse.”

”I am praying for the sweet release of death.”

”It’s not your fault.”

”I was just wondering.”

”My treat.”

“I’m here.”

“I love you."

Words:

abate – to become less intense

alacritous – eager and cheerfully enthusiastic towards a task

benevolent – kind, good, well-meaning

capricious – someone who changes their mood and behavior suddenly/frequently

conjecture – an opinion that is formed without all the necessary information

deference – humility, submission, respect

eftsoons – an old-fashioned way to say ’soon afterward’

exigence – an urgent matter (need/demand)

fervor – strong/sincere/intense feelings

kindle – to set on fire

kith – one’s social circle (friends and relations and acquaintances)

mellifluous – something that sounds sweet and is pleasant to hear

nefarious – unethical, wicked, criminal

obdurate – stubborn about one’s opinions

petrichor – the pleasant smell of ground when it’s rained on

quixotic – something that is very impractical and idealistic

quell – to put an end to disorder by the use of force

spurious – something that is false or fake, not what it seems to be

tacit – understood without explicitly saying it out loud

ubiquitous – something that appears to be everywhere

WILDCARD ROUND!

Since this is my birthday event too – Happy Birthday to me on 9th of Dec! – you can also participate to this via The Wildcard Round. This one is all about me me me.

You can ask questions or request blurbs/headcanons/missing scenes/drabbles about any of my existing fics. (This includes stuff I've teased here but haven't yet published). My tumblr masterlist is HERE – my longfics are on AO3 HERE.

If you choose this option, you don’t have to heed to the prompt list – but you can use it, if you want to. On this round, you can send in more than one request/question!

The rules about about what content is accepted also apply here. I reserve the right to not write anything that makes me uncomfortable or doesn't spark the muse.

WELCOME! I look forward to your entries and requests.

[navybrat817]

This looks like fun! ❤️

Stella's Starry Winter Sky

Welcome to the Stella’s Starry Winter Sky Event! This event is a celebration of our lovely Cap Quartet: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff.

Rules! (And other important stuff):

As I run a 18+ only blog, this challenge is only for users that are at least 18 years old.

You can participate either by 1) writing a fic using any of the prompts below, 2) sending one or more of the prompts below to me to request a fic. For requests, you can also include any further ideas you’d like to see in the finished fic, as long as your request has at least one of the prompts below.

This challenge is about celebrating the Cap Quartet, so please make at least one member of the Cap Quartet a central part of your fic.

Challenge will run from Monday 9th of December 2024 to Friday 28th of February 2025. No late submissions will be accepted. You can start sending in requests as soon as you see this post, but post any fics partaking the challenge on Monday 9th of December the earliest.

You can choose a maximum one thing from each prompt category, but you can skip categories / only use one thing. You can write as many fics as you’d like and don’t need to claim prompts – however, if you submit a request to me, only one per person, please.

Please use #stellasstarrywintersky when posting the fic; linking the challenge is appreciated, and you can also tag me if you'd like.

This challenge accepts both ”Character x Reader” and ”Character x OC” fics. If you write an OC fic, please add a link to an OC introduction post or provide all the necessary information in your fic. For requests, I only accept my OCs. You can use multiple characters in the fic and even have a ”Character x Character” pairing as a side pairing – so for example, a Steve x Reader fic with a Bucky/Nat side pairing.

What is not allowed in this challenge? No full dark (appropriately tagged soft!dark is welcome, I leave the it to the author to decide where the line goes), no cheating/infidelity, no minor characters in romantic or sexual situations, no non-con (dub-con is fine as long as it’s tagged – again, the line is at author’s discretion), no gore (MCU canon level violence is fine), no incest/bestiality/watersports/similar kinks. Ask if you are unsure.

Scenarios/tropes:  

birthday

blind date

chaotic shenanigans

cooking together

comforting one another

everyone ships it

exploring something new in bed together

fake marriage

friendly competition

hurt/comfort

idiots in love

it was supposed to be an one night stand

knight in shining armor

misunderstandings

movie night

moving in/out

night out

Reader is the newest Avenger

shopping together

soulmarks

Tony’s party

tending the other’s wounds

undercover

Valentine’s Day

Winter Holidays

AUs (you don’t need to choose an AU – canon-adjacent is fine):

Academia AU

Coffee Shop AU

Everyone Lives AU

Fairytale AU

Fantasy AU

Lumberjack AU

Medieval AU

Mob AU

Neighbor AU

Omegaverse AU

Sci-fi AU

Soulmate AU

Quotes:

”Is that what you’re wearing?”

”Come on, it’s going to be alright.”

”I really thought it’d be different this time.”

”But... how?”

”We shouldn’t.”

”Tell me about it.”

”That’s just disgustingly wholesome.”

”I... I’ll just go.”

”I dare you.”

”You’re a dead man.”

”Would you really do that for me?”

”At your service.”

”In another lifetime.”

”You look like a corpse.”

”I am praying for the sweet release of death.”

”It’s not your fault.”

”I was just wondering.”

”My treat.”

“I’m here.”

“I love you."

Words:

abate – to become less intense

alacritous – eager and cheerfully enthusiastic towards a task

benevolent – kind, good, well-meaning

capricious – someone who changes their mood and behavior suddenly/frequently

conjecture – an opinion that is formed without all the necessary information

deference – humility, submission, respect

eftsoons – an old-fashioned way to say ’soon afterward’

exigence – an urgent matter (need/demand)

fervor – strong/sincere/intense feelings

kindle – to set on fire

kith – one’s social circle (friends and relations and acquaintances)

mellifluous – something that sounds sweet and is pleasant to hear

nefarious – unethical, wicked, criminal

obdurate – stubborn about one’s opinions

petrichor – the pleasant smell of ground when it’s rained on

quixotic – something that is very impractical and idealistic

quell – to put an end to disorder by the use of force

spurious – something that is false or fake, not what it seems to be

tacit – understood without explicitly saying it out loud

ubiquitous – something that appears to be everywhere

WILDCARD ROUND!

Since this is my birthday event too – Happy Birthday to me on 9th of Dec! – you can also participate to this via The Wildcard Round. This one is all about me me me.

You can ask questions or request blurbs/headcanons/missing scenes/drabbles about any of my existing fics. (This includes stuff I've teased here but haven't yet published). My tumblr masterlist is HERE – my longfics are on AO3 HERE.

If you choose this option, you don’t have to heed to the prompt list – but you can use it, if you want to. On this round, you can send in more than one request/question!

The rules about about what content is accepted also apply here. I reserve the right to not write anything that makes me uncomfortable or doesn't spark the muse.

WELCOME! I look forward to your entries and requests.

[jobean12-blog]

Love it! Yay🥰👏🏻🥰❤️

Stella's Starry Winter Sky

Welcome to the Stella’s Starry Winter Sky Event! This event is a celebration of our lovely Cap Quartet: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff.

Rules! (And other important stuff):

As I run a 18+ only blog, this challenge is only for users that are at least 18 years old.

You can participate either by 1) writing a fic using any of the prompts below, 2) sending one or more of the prompts below to me to request a fic. For requests, you can also include any further ideas you’d like to see in the finished fic, as long as your request has at least one of the prompts below.

This challenge is about celebrating the Cap Quartet, so please make at least one member of the Cap Quartet a central part of your fic.

Challenge will run from Monday 9th of December 2024 to Friday 28th of February 2025. No late submissions will be accepted. You can start sending in requests as soon as you see this post, but post any fics partaking the challenge on Monday 9th of December the earliest.

You can choose a maximum one thing from each prompt category, but you can skip categories / only use one thing. You can write as many fics as you’d like and don’t need to claim prompts – however, if you submit a request to me, only one per person, please.

Please use #stellasstarrywintersky when posting the fic; linking the challenge is appreciated, and you can also tag me if you'd like.

This challenge accepts both ”Character x Reader” and ”Character x OC” fics. If you write an OC fic, please add a link to an OC introduction post or provide all the necessary information in your fic. For requests, I only accept my OCs. You can use multiple characters in the fic and even have a ”Character x Character” pairing as a side pairing – so for example, a Steve x Reader fic with a Bucky/Nat side pairing.

What is not allowed in this challenge? No full dark (appropriately tagged soft!dark is welcome, I leave the it to the author to decide where the line goes), no cheating/infidelity, no minor characters in romantic or sexual situations, no non-con (dub-con is fine as long as it’s tagged – again, the line is at author’s discretion), no gore (MCU canon level violence is fine), no incest/bestiality/watersports/similar kinks. Ask if you are unsure.

Scenarios/tropes:  

birthday

blind date

chaotic shenanigans

cooking together

comforting one another

everyone ships it

exploring something new in bed together

fake marriage

friendly competition

hurt/comfort

idiots in love

it was supposed to be an one night stand

knight in shining armor

misunderstandings

movie night

moving in/out

night out

Reader is the newest Avenger

shopping together

soulmarks

Tony’s party

tending the other’s wounds

undercover

Valentine’s Day

Winter Holidays

AUs (you don’t need to choose an AU – canon-adjacent is fine):

Academia AU

Coffee Shop AU

Everyone Lives AU

Fairytale AU

Fantasy AU

Lumberjack AU

Medieval AU

Mob AU

Neighbor AU

Omegaverse AU

Sci-fi AU

Soulmate AU

Quotes:

”Is that what you’re wearing?”

”Come on, it’s going to be alright.”

”I really thought it’d be different this time.”

”But... how?”

”We shouldn’t.”

”Tell me about it.”

”That’s just disgustingly wholesome.”

”I... I’ll just go.”

”I dare you.”

”You’re a dead man.”

”Would you really do that for me?”

”At your service.”

”In another lifetime.”

”You look like a corpse.”

”I am praying for the sweet release of death.”

”It’s not your fault.”

”I was just wondering.”

”My treat.”

“I’m here.”

“I love you."

Words:

abate – to become less intense

alacritous – eager and cheerfully enthusiastic towards a task

benevolent – kind, good, well-meaning

capricious – someone who changes their mood and behavior suddenly/frequently

conjecture – an opinion that is formed without all the necessary information

deference – humility, submission, respect

eftsoons – an old-fashioned way to say ’soon afterward’

exigence – an urgent matter (need/demand)

fervor – strong/sincere/intense feelings

kindle – to set on fire

kith – one’s social circle (friends and relations and acquaintances)

mellifluous – something that sounds sweet and is pleasant to hear

nefarious – unethical, wicked, criminal

obdurate – stubborn about one’s opinions

petrichor – the pleasant smell of ground when it’s rained on

quixotic – something that is very impractical and idealistic

quell – to put an end to disorder by the use of force

spurious – something that is false or fake, not what it seems to be

tacit – understood without explicitly saying it out loud

ubiquitous – something that appears to be everywhere

WILDCARD ROUND!

Since this is my birthday event too – Happy Birthday to me on 9th of Dec! – you can also participate to this via The Wildcard Round. This one is all about me me me.

You can ask questions or request blurbs/headcanons/missing scenes/drabbles about any of my existing fics. (This includes stuff I've teased here but haven't yet published). My tumblr masterlist is HERE – my longfics are on AO3 HERE.

If you choose this option, you don’t have to heed to the prompt list – but you can use it, if you want to. On this round, you can send in more than one request/question!

The rules about about what content is accepted also apply here. I reserve the right to not write anything that makes me uncomfortable or doesn't spark the muse.

WELCOME! I look forward to your entries and requests.

[stellar-solar-flare]

Thank you for reblogging, Grace!

Just a reminder, this event runs until 28th of February! If anyone needs a deadline extension, shoot me an ask and we'll see what we can do.

Happy February, everyone!

Stella's Starry Winter Sky

Welcome to the Stella’s Starry Winter Sky Event! This event is a celebration of our lovely Cap Quartet: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, and Natasha Romanoff.

Rules! (And other important stuff):

As I run a 18+ only blog, this challenge is only for users that are at least 18 years old.

You can participate either by 1) writing a fic using any of the prompts below, 2) sending one or more of the prompts below to me to request a fic. For requests, you can also include any further ideas you’d like to see in the finished fic, as long as your request has at least one of the prompts below.

This challenge is about celebrating the Cap Quartet, so please make at least one member of the Cap Quartet a central part of your fic.

Challenge will run from Monday 9th of December 2024 to Friday 28th of February 2025. No late submissions will be accepted. You can start sending in requests as soon as you see this post, but post any fics partaking the challenge on Monday 9th of December the earliest.

You can choose a maximum one thing from each prompt category, but you can skip categories / only use one thing. You can write as many fics as you’d like and don’t need to claim prompts – however, if you submit a request to me, only one per person, please.

Please use #stellasstarrywintersky when posting the fic; linking the challenge is appreciated, and you can also tag me if you'd like.

This challenge accepts both ”Character x Reader” and ”Character x OC” fics. If you write an OC fic, please add a link to an OC introduction post or provide all the necessary information in your fic. For requests, I only accept my OCs. You can use multiple characters in the fic and even have a ”Character x Character” pairing as a side pairing – so for example, a Steve x Reader fic with a Bucky/Nat side pairing.

What is not allowed in this challenge? No full dark (appropriately tagged soft!dark is welcome, I leave the it to the author to decide where the line goes), no cheating/infidelity, no minor characters in romantic or sexual situations, no non-con (dub-con is fine as long as it’s tagged – again, the line is at author’s discretion), no gore (MCU canon level violence is fine), no incest/bestiality/watersports/similar kinks. Ask if you are unsure.

Scenarios/tropes:  

birthday

blind date

chaotic shenanigans

cooking together

comforting one another

everyone ships it

exploring something new in bed together

fake marriage

friendly competition

hurt/comfort

idiots in love

it was supposed to be an one night stand

knight in shining armor

misunderstandings

movie night

moving in/out

night out

Reader is the newest Avenger

shopping together

soulmarks

Tony’s party

tending the other’s wounds

undercover

Valentine’s Day

Winter Holidays

AUs (you don’t need to choose an AU – canon-adjacent is fine):

Academia AU

Coffee Shop AU

Everyone Lives AU

Fairytale AU

Fantasy AU

Lumberjack AU

Medieval AU

Mob AU

Neighbor AU

Omegaverse AU

Sci-fi AU

Soulmate AU

Quotes:

”Is that what you’re wearing?”

”Come on, it’s going to be alright.”

”I really thought it’d be different this time.”

”But... how?”

”We shouldn’t.”

”Tell me about it.”

”That’s just disgustingly wholesome.”

”I... I’ll just go.”

”I dare you.”

”You’re a dead man.”

”Would you really do that for me?”

”At your service.”

”In another lifetime.”

”You look like a corpse.”

”I am praying for the sweet release of death.”

”It’s not your fault.”

”I was just wondering.”

”My treat.”

“I’m here.”

“I love you."

Words:

abate – to become less intense

alacritous – eager and cheerfully enthusiastic towards a task

benevolent – kind, good, well-meaning

capricious – someone who changes their mood and behavior suddenly/frequently

conjecture – an opinion that is formed without all the necessary information

deference – humility, submission, respect

eftsoons – an old-fashioned way to say ’soon afterward’

exigence – an urgent matter (need/demand)

fervor – strong/sincere/intense feelings

kindle – to set on fire

kith – one’s social circle (friends and relations and acquaintances)

mellifluous – something that sounds sweet and is pleasant to hear

nefarious – unethical, wicked, criminal

obdurate – stubborn about one’s opinions

petrichor – the pleasant smell of ground when it’s rained on

quixotic – something that is very impractical and idealistic

quell – to put an end to disorder by the use of force

spurious – something that is false or fake, not what it seems to be

tacit – understood without explicitly saying it out loud

ubiquitous – something that appears to be everywhere

WILDCARD ROUND!

Since this is my birthday event too – Happy Birthday to me on 9th of Dec! – you can also participate to this via The Wildcard Round. This one is all about me me me.

You can ask questions or request blurbs/headcanons/missing scenes/drabbles about any of my existing fics. (This includes stuff I've teased here but haven't yet published). My tumblr masterlist is HERE – my longfics are on AO3 HERE.

If you choose this option, you don’t have to heed to the prompt list – but you can use it, if you want to. On this round, you can send in more than one request/question!

The rules about about what content is accepted also apply here. I reserve the right to not write anything that makes me uncomfortable or doesn't spark the muse.

WELCOME! I look forward to your entries and requests.