#which would have been very different from how Steve and Bucky experienced publicity

[daydreamerdrew]

Avengers (2010) #4

[nourrris]

I hate, and love Steve Rogers.

there is no character who's given me as many conflicted feelings as he does, i can't tell if i absolutely hate his guts or adore him helplessly, one side is coming from the fact i love tony stark, and steve rogers is an absolute cunt for the way he's treated him at times (which some instances are understandable, but i still hold civil war against him) and then theres the version of him that i hold so close to my heart, excluding his confident demeanor and severe savior (guilt?) complex, he is still the man who couldnt help himself and risk his life for everybody else, the man who was pushed into a situation so life changing, experiencing the quite literal horrors of the world and humanity, both pre and post serum, he lived a rough life, especially with the timeline he lived in originally, and then the entire ordeal with bucky, the horrifying realization what's happened to one of the closest people in his life, what he's become, and the fact he's alive. (not that he ever got the chance to mourn anyways)

and thats not to talk about how his life was ultimately changed completely within such a small time frame for him, prior the modern years, living through a whole different world, about to sacrifice his life to mankind, then he wakes up 70 years later, the love of his life has aged in a way he didn't get the chance too, the world has became something completely separate to the timeline he lived in, he has to learn new social customs, new ways to adapt to how society exists, how is he meant to grieve or mourn through any of this at all? he had absolutely no time, he was consistently put into the highest of stress situations.

i hate how civil war went down, he gave away his life he had began building, of course there were multiple different ways to act and he definitely did not choose the right one, but i'll give the smallest inch of credit and say i'm not sure how i'd act either if i found my best friend (who was supposedly dead, now a deadly assassin) was back in the limelight for the worst reason possible, one that was causing the entire world to hate him, but not only that - his identity of actually still being alive is now public for the entire world to see, even if the man they saw hadn't actually been him.

i can't say i would have taken his side as confidently so brashly, almost killing a person you could almost consider a close friend in defense when they just found your supposedly dead (now assassin) bestfriend is at fault for who killed his parents, tony acting irrationally was rather reasonable, i'd understand bucky defending himself, steve through? i'd say its different, maybe?

he's also rather arrogant in same situations, especially in 'the avengers' when he says 'Big man in a suit of armor, take that away and what are you?' as if tony wasn't the genius behind making every little detail in the suit, constructing it all single handedly, and the prototype that had been created in a very spontaneous manner which still worked miraculously better than any person managed to create in a much larger time frame, and a much less stressful situation.

i cant pretend and believe that steve must know this information of course, they seemed like they had been roughly introduced to eachother, but also to make such a claim against somebody like him who's father was also an insanely credible genius, he should have given him at least some benefit of the doubt, or actually attempted to learn more about him before going straight for eachothers throats like a bunch of kids.

another part of that quote that irked me was the sacrifice one, i frankly do not understand that part, the entire idea of iron-man is one big ol' self sacrifice, there is no safe (or really sane) way to make a machine like that and go into conflict way too big for one person to overtake, he's almost died multiple times for the sake of helping society, the idea of getting his information right isn't even the biggest issue, its that i just genuinely dont understand why he keeps spouting out things with absolutely no context? he says he see's the videos, but its a little hypocritical steve rogers of all people is letting other people define who tony stark is when he lived his entire life being defined what society deems of him just by a single glance, unless of course he just saw one random iron-man video of the stark expo performance with the girls. (which god, i cringed at myself.. why tony, why)

still to act as confident as he did, i would have assumed he attempted to well.. learn more about the guy. i genuinely think this part itself is a poor writing issue though, it felt weirdly out of character, but i can understand it from a certain viewpoint i guess.

once more, another point i wanted to make this time was somewhat against tony's actual response to what steve said, of course in a way hes completely correct where "everything about him came out of a bottle", in a physical sense, but steves over eager need to help was always very evident, his courage in place since the dawn of the world. although, he realistically would likely have never been able to become the man he is without the serum, so well technically theres not much to fight back there, but the serum could have distinctively (and quite literally has) gone to the wrong hands, i'm not sure if i should be applauding him for having morals, but at last, its difficult to say how anybody would react to such a life altering experience, and not really even getting the chance to understand whats happening, or how it works.

i've likely gotten off track, but point is i think he's a very flawed character, but at the same time still one of the kindest people with a heart made out of gold, albeit a bit of a blockhead at times, he truly tries, and he was frankly put in a very unfair position, no matter what he signed up for, there was no world it could have possibly entailed what he's gone through so far, even if he doesn't regret it, or would do it a hundred times more.

anyways, i hate him and love him all the same, and still very strongly hate his ending in endgame (as a total writing issue, i cannot possibly blame the character).

thank you for reading this ramble, so sorry if this upset you, or if i actually got any of the lore wrong, do correct me if i have!

[harryspet]

painted with bruises | bucky barnes

[Warnings] severe domestic violence, bucky barnes x reader, dark!steve rogers x reader, mafia!bucky, officer!steve, oral sex (female recieving), kidnapping, bondage, extreme violence, torture, so much angst, steve is a suuuper bad person in this haha

[A/N] This is a super last minute entry into @tilltheendwilliwrite ‘s 7.7K Follower (Covid Sucks) Celebration! so I hope you enjoy.

TRIGGERING AND ADULT CONTENT AHEAD

In which Bucky kidnaps you in order to get close to his enemy, Steve, but realizes that Steve isn’t the hero he used to be.

word count: 3.5k

taglist: @cherienymphe​ @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckybarney @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar  @nsfwsebbie  @mandiiblanche

main masterlist

He twirled his knife through his fingers, passing the time, as he waited for you to finally come to. He’d seen a million pictures of you but, seeing you so close in person, Bucky couldn’t help but think that your pictures didn’t do you justice. You were a mostly a ghost to society and, as someone who’s only family was Steve and someone who lived comfortably in his shadow, you had no one to truly gaze upon your beauty.

You were a hidden gem and Bucky understood a little more why Steve kept you so close to him. No matter how much you trained and proved your strength, you were still a prize. A very useful prize though. Bucky leaned back in the wooden chair, the furniture still wrapped in its protective plastic, knife still in hand as he watched your head start to move. The floor creaked beneath you, sound traveled eerily through the abandoned home. 

Motion traveled through your body as each of your limbs tried to free and stretch themselves. Bucky’s men informed him that you put up a good fight when they picked you up from the grocery store parking deck. Clint even came back with a broken pinky and a wounded ego. 

You sat in a chair only five feet away from him, your hands tightly handcuffed behind you, and your ankles cuffed to the legs of the chair. The home was beginning to smell like mildew and the smell invaded your senses as your eyes blinked open. Surprisingly, it wasn’t your restraints that triggered your initial sense of pain but your ribs.

When you finally gazed upon him, both of your faces were stoic. Two predators stared back at each other. You noted the two men standing a few feet behind him, their clothes dark and their faces hard. You recognized the one who’s pinky you’d roughly bent back when they had grabbed you. 

The room was illuminated by a flickering chandelier and you realized you were sitting in the dining room of some boarded-up house. By the furniture and wallpaper, you would’ve guessed it used to be a pretty, luxurious home. 

“Good evening, Mrs. Rogers.”

It took you a few short seconds but you placed who the man before you was. Brown leather jacket, dark beard, and a black glove covering up his left hand. You knew what was hidden beneath it, his arm being just as notorious as he was. 

“Bucky Barnes,” Your eyes narrowed at him, “You’ve … gotten old.”

Bucky didn’t smile but his slight amusement was evident, “Rikers Island will do that to you.”

His hands folded together and you tried to read the state of emotions. You imagined that he was doing the same to you, “Seems you’re lucky that you’re not there, rotting away right now.”

“Not so lucky for you or Steve though, right?”

“I guess not,” You spoke blankly.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed, “You’re not going to ask why you’re here? No pleading? No threats of violence?”

You hadn’t realized that you hadn’t. Perhaps because you had experienced much worse than anything this mobster could ever inflict upon you, “I know this is because of Steve because he’s the one who put you in prison. I know you probably want to hurt me in order to get back at him.”

Bucky leaned forward, his eyes locked on yours, “And this doesn’t scare you?”

There was fear in your heart but you weren’t sure if it was from a fear that you’d be hurt, “I know he’s looking for me. Half of the NYPD is probably looking for me right now. They’ll find you …”

“That may be true but you probably know how much of a selfish bastard he is. If he ran to his colleagues, he’d get taken off the case because he’s too close to it. I think Steve would want to kill me himself … hunt me down himself,” Your heart began to race as you listened to his words. You trusted Steve or at least a fantasy of Steve that you created, but Bucky’s words had a brutal truth to them. “What do you think, Mrs. Rogers?”

“I think you end up dead either way,” You stated, trying to keep your lip from shaking. 

“And what about you?”

“Steve... Steve will find me.”

“Sure,” You watched the knife twist in his hands, “But does he find you before or after I kill you is the question? … I think I’d want to see his face when I take away what he loves the most. But if you die, it’ll probably only make the public give him more sympathy. Our mayor loves charity cases and Steve would get promoted to chief of police in no time.”

You swallowed, “But you won’t let that happen. You’d kill him before you let that happen.”

Bucky sighed, “You got me, Mrs. Rogers. You know, you would’ve made a great detective. It’s a shame that you left the force after only three years,” Your eyes widened at his statement. Though the information was a google click away, you hadn’t thought about your past in so long that it had startled you, “It makes me wonder what made you quick.”

“You’re trying to make small talk with me while I’m handcuffed to a chair?” You scowled but he chuckled. 

“Fine, no small talk. Clint,” Bucky lifted his knife up, the handle facing up. The older man, his light brown hair slicked up and shaved at the sides, moved forward and grabbed the knife from Bucky. He used the hand that wasn’t bandaged up and moved towards you, “How about a little photo shoot so we can keep Mr. Rogers updated.”

Uselessly, you started to pull at your restraint. The man kneeled down by your feet, taking the knife and starting to cut away at the fabric of your black leggings, “What are you doing?” Bucky found it strange that you were now finally panicking. You had managed to act like your life wasn’t in danger this entire time. 

Now your eyes were blinking fast and the discomfort in your face was evident. Bucky didn’t answer you, only stared as he watched the fabric rip away, “I-I left because of Steve!” You rushed out, “I didn’t have to work because Steve was going to take care of us.”

“Clint,” Bucky stopped the man from continuing, your bottom leg already exposed. Clint stood and stepped away from you causing you to let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding, “He was going to take care of you? But you spent so long getting your GED, training and you worked hard to get that job.”

“He was my fiance then and … I thought it would be good for us. If I didn’t have to work then I shouldn't have to. Besides, he didn’t want me to be stressed from work while we were trying for a baby.”

“How long have you been trying?” He seemed genuinely interested but you kept talking hoping it would keep the knife away. 

“Two years…” Your voice trembled as his question triggered bad memories.

“Steve always wanted a family,” Bucky said like your answer triggered his own memory, “He’d probably do anything to get that …”

Part of you felt like you were betraying Steve by revealing so much information. You knew that Bucky and Steve went back all the way to elementary school and that their path had divulged into two very different roads. 

“He will have it,” You said, suddenly growing angry. You felt anger at Bucky as well as yourself, “When he finds me and kills you. And you’ll never experience anything like that.”

Bucky’s facial expression darkened at your words. He raised a hand, gesturing to Clint to continue. Clint went back to tearing away at your clothes and you started to struggle wildly, almost tipping the chair over in the process. 

Bucky straightened his jacket, trying to seem phased by the tears welling in your eyes. Clint tore away at your leggings and Bucky gestured to Sam to start taking pictures. The goal was to get Steve to think that you were being tortured in more ways than one. 

“Don’t. P-Please, don’t!”

All the men seemed to hesitate at the same time. Clint had paused as he watched the front of your shirt slip away to the sides and Sam’s finger hovered over the camera button. The beauty of your face was still there, tears in all, but your body told a completely different story. 

Bucky had never seen someone so purple and blue. The bruises covered your stomach, your thighs, and your arms which had been covered by long sleeves. There was a huge bandage on your stomach, bloody gauze stuck behind it. Bucky stood. 

Even in all his time in the most brutal jail in the world, he hadn’t seen anything like this, especially not done to a woman. Your knees snapped together and you turned your head, trying to hide away. 

“Who did this?” Bucky asked, his voice smaller than it had been during the entire encounter. 

You breathed heavily like you were being suffocated by the attention, “Y-Your men manhandled me!” You forced out, “What do you mean? Did you forget that you kidnapped me?”

Bucky looked to Clint and Sam, “Get out.”

As they left the room, Bucky removed his jacket, exposing the protruding biceps beneath his black shirt. He placed the jacket over as he began to undo your restraints one by one, “I gave them strict orders not to hurt you. And these … these bruises … some look much older than others,” You were a rainbow of color, signifying that each mark had a different date of impact. Bucky looked up at you, from his place kneeling at your feet, and something remarkable had changed in his face, “Don’t tell me …”

As your wrists were free, you brought your hands together, rubbing them together as they began to shake, “I had an accident … “

“Steve did this,” His voice had gone from strong and commanding to what is what now, weak and unsure. You shook your head, shutting your eyes tight, “I’m sorry … I’m so sorry about all of this.”

“You think you’re different from him?” You spoke, your tone venomous. 

“I know I am,” This time he was sure of his words yet he seemed a bit hurt, “And he’s going to pay for what he’s done.”

“He won’t,” That much you did know, “And you’re a fool just like me.”

+

“Ma’am,” You looked up from the bubbles, your bruised figure beneath the warm water, as you heard a maid call for you, “I left a robe for you on the counter and some clothes for you on the bed. Mr. Barnes wants you to join him for breakfast but he understands if you’d still like your time alone. He’ll send up your food if that’s what you wish.”

You didn’t respond, though she sounded like a kind lady, you had resorted to silence ever since your world came crashing down around you yesterday. 

You refused to see a Doctor which Bucky respected, probably knowing how much he had violated you yesterday and wanting to continue to play the good guy. 

When you heard her footsteps pitter-patter away, you sunk back down into the bubbles. It had been a long while since you “relaxed” in this way. Despite the fact that you were home most of the day, you never felt peace or relaxation living with Steve. 

Even when you organized his clothes perfectly, cooked his favorite dinner, or wore that red lingerie thing he liked, he was never really satisfied. Even when he pretended he was happy and you fell for his charm, his tone always changed.  

And now it felt like the relationship you had worked so hard to maintain was more useless than you originally thought. You had no baby and no happy family to show for it. You were behind enemy lines probably destined to die because of Steve. 

Though it did cross your mind that you were being abnormally pampered for a hostage. Bucky’s penthouse was high up, looking over the darker side of the city. A view of luxury from the wrong side of the tracks. 

You ate your breakfast alone from your room, spending most of the day staring up at the ceiling. When the servant returned that evening, you assumed that she was here to invite you to dinner with Mr. Barnes. She’d probably expect you to say no and to depressingly roll over in bed. 

Instead, she found you dressed and ready for something- anything. You’d pick out something from the fineries in the closet, a tight red dress that hugged your curves, and let more parts of your body show then you were normally comfortable with. 

“Ma’am,” The woman tried to keep eye contact and not let her eyes wander over your rainbow skin, “Mr. Rogers … Mr. Rogers is here.”

You took a deep, uncertain breath before your lips pressed into a thin smile, “Good.”

“You don’t want to eat here?” She asked, sounding concerned.

“Mr. Barnes wants me to eat with him, right?” You were already walking past her, your heels clicking against the marble floors. She was baffled as she followed after her. Bucky’s home was regal and, walking it in for the first time, you thought the man must’ve seen way too many mafia movies from the seventies. 

You approached a landing with a view of the massive living room, a grand staircase leading down to the event that you’d just interrupted. At least ten men were gathered, a black tarp laid out as a hunched over man sat there on his knees, and one man paced by the first. Steve and Bucky. 

They hadn’t noticed you and you took the opportunity to listen in.

“This good guy persona … you’ve really lied to yourself so much that you’ve convinced yourself it's true,” Bucky’s tone was incredulous and you could tell the amusement in his voice was only a facade, “You forgot how you even climbed the ranks so fast. Without my connections, without my intel, you’d still be working security at the mall.”

“I turned myself around…” His voice was weaker than usual and, as you moved towards the stairs, you realized the blood soaking through the back of his shirt, “I tried to help you, Buck.”

“You threw me in prison for something that I did for you. I help you lock up one of my enemies, you get the praise and I make more money,” You started to put things together as you listened, thinking back to when you thought Steve was a hero and that this city was lucky to not have to deal with Bucky Barnes anymore, “Except you couldn’t help yourself from wanting more, old friend.”

“Oh, cut the fucking bullshit!” You felt your heart began to race at the sound of his growing anger but you kept moving forward. As you finally started to descend the stairs, your eyes connected with your kidnapper, “Where is she?”

Steve scared you to death but you had decided that you weren’t afraid of your final days anymore.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” You couldn’t exactly read Bucky’s expression but you knew exactly what Steve was thinking when he turned his head towards the bottom of the staircase. It was initially a look of relief, of thankfulness that he could lay eyes on his beautiful, obedient, and stupid wife. Then it turned to that anger you knew so well, that look he gave you and you knew immediately that you probably would be able to get out of bed the next day because of how in pain you’d be. 

Painted with bruises, you crossed the room and took your place beside Bucky. 

“Y/N … I’m taking you home, I promise,” He stated, trying to mask that fury with a smile that had charmed you many times before. 

You gazed at Bucky who seemed a bit unsure of your intentions but was entranced by you nonetheless, “That’s not a home,” You stated, trying your best to keep eye contact. Even now, you found your knees weak despite the fact that his hands were restrained behind his back and he was the one on his knees now, “A-And …” You cleared your throat, taking a deep breath, “And it’s over.”

“What’s over, baby?” His voice raised and his eyes narrowed angrily, causing you to take a step back but you felt a calm hand on the small of your back. It was a reminder that this was all a manipulative strategy and he was trying to hold onto his control by scaring you. 

“Us,” You stated as calmly as possible. 

“Did you fuck him?” 

“Steve-”

“Answer me! Did you fuck him?” You were shaking now but not in fear. 

You turned towards Bucky, and before he could even know what you were planning, you were reaching towards his waistband. He didn’t panic, surprisingly, but easily let you grab the gun strapped to his waist. Even knowing you could turn it on him, he let you do it. To Steve’s surprise, this wasn’t a big charade in order to disarm Bucky and set the two of you free. 

You pointed it at your kneeling, former lover, “Y/N, what are you-”

“Who I fuck from now on should be the least of your worries. you jealous, fucking prick,” Twisting the knife, he was now red with anger. In an attempt to get to his feet, you thought he might charge at you but your aim was good, and, gripping the gun tightly, you fired a bullet into his thigh. 

“Fuck!” He cursed, falling back down, and whaling in excruciating pain, “You fucking bitch! You’re nothing without me!”

He’d saved you. He’d kept you from choosing a life of crime, of falling into a broken system, and he’d encourage you to follow dreams. Then he’d hurt you like the monster he actually was in an attempt to break you to his will. 

You raised the gun up, your eyes concentrating on the space on his forehead. You hadn’t noticed how badly you were shaking until you felt that same hand on your back. He placed his other hand on top of the barrel, “You don’t have to make it painless for him,” Were his words and you lowered the gun, letting Bucky carefully take it from you. 

“I want him to suffer,” You seethed, watching Steve clutch his thigh in pain. 

“Take him to the garage,” Bucky ordered his men, “Leave him unrecognizable.”

Steve went kicking and screaming but you found yourself unafraid of him anymore. You thought of him as this powerful entity that could never be taken down. Now you saw him as a petulant child that would probably beg for his mother on his way out. 

You turned to him but you didn’t have words yet. “How do you feel?” He asked, probably unsure of what to say to you. 

“Why do they say revenge is never the answer?” You asked, “I feel … fucking exhilarated.”

Bucky’s lip turned into a smirk, “They say that cathartic feeling won’t last … something tells me this is different.”

You nodded, your lips tugging into a smile, “Yeah, this is different,” You stepped forward, closing the gap between you. With hesitant hands, he grabbed your waist but you threw your arms around his neck. You pulled him down towards you, smashing your lips against his. 

Your lips didn’t stop tasting one another, as your bodies began crumbling down towards the carpet. The heat of the fire fanned your flames and you found yourselves desperately tugging at each other’s clothes. 

You swallowed that feeling that told you this was wrong, you swallowed that guilt you might have felt and you decided to do what you wanted for the first time in a long time. Bucky’s hands roamed over your skin but he never grabbed at you and you could tell he was trying to be gentle. With your back against the carpet, he hovered over you, “You’re beautiful,” He said, his blue eyes sparkling in the firelight. 

You liked the look in his eyes because he didn’t feel sorry for you. He meant those words. 

He kissed the side of your mouth and then down your chin. As his lips touched your scars, it was like he was acknowledging them and also accepting them at the same time. He kissed down your body, over your breast. He moved down, sliding your panties to the side as his head dipped down. He kissed your sensitive bud, teasing you as he looked back into your eyes, “Your aim is quite good, I think you could have a place here, Y/N.”

Your cheeks were warm and not because of the fire, “I won’t belong to anyone else ever again.”

“Of course not,” He smiled a wicked smile, “You’re in control … and your wish would be my command.”

His head finally dipped down again and, as you’d never been touched before, Bucky left you convulsing in pleasure for the rest of the long night. 

The Persephone to his Hades, you knew then that the underworld may have been where you belonged all along.

+

I hope you enjoyed this one! Please lmk what you think :)

[3mmafr0st]

Remember Me Part 3

Previous Part <-------> Next Part

Bucky Barnes x Reader Summary: Y/N has escaped, but where does she go from here?  Word Count: 1.5k (Sorry this ones a little short)

Warnings: Homelessness, a striking lack of Bucky, but soon my friends, soon, ANGST, reader not understanding computers very well A/N: Im apologizing for the lack of smut in this part, but I really like following the canon

I was woken up abruptly by a quick jab to the ribs, quickly waking up and going into action. I grabbed the object and twisted it away.

“Hey, I’m not looking for a fight here, just wanted to make sure that you didn’t overdose on whatever you were on last night.” I looked up to see the older man that had talked to me the night before. He was in his forties and dirty looking, but had kind eyes, shielded by a pair of small glasses. “Can’t have the cops pokin’ around here, bad for everyone.” I got up from the wet grass, wiping myself off from anything that may have gotten on me. 

“For the record, I wasn’t high.”

“Could have fooled me.” I shook my head, rolling my eyes. He couldn’t have understood the intensity of the situation that I was in. Hydra was probably after me, and I had no idea where to go or what to do about it.

I couldn’t help but think about Bucky, what happened to him and where he was right now. He had to have gotten out, right? He was a better agent than I was, simply in physicality. He had the capability to escape, we would find each other. But how had they found us out? There must have been some sort of suspicion, something that tipped the higher ups off about what we were going to do. How could I have been so careless to allow someone to find out the plan. But that was the past now, I had to focus on what happens next. 

“Where’s the closest library?”

I walked down the sidewalk toward the library, trying my best to blend in, looking inconspicuous against the crowd. I was lucky enough that the closest library was only two blocks away, I was already a little tired from last night with everything that happened. 

I looked to my left, and sure enough, there was a quaint little library that looked cozy. I shook the handle and pushed at the door, thankful that it was open earlier than most places. 

The walls were covered in children’s drawings. I knew I shouldn’t be wasting time, but the entire thing was so uncanny, so unabashedly civilian, something I hadn’t experienced in who knows how long.  At the small front desk sat a woman, maybe in her thirties with a small name tag.

“Hello miss, anything I could help you with today?” She smiled sweetly at me, welcoming me into the library. 

“Actually, do you guys have computers that the public can use?”

“Yes, they’re right over in the corner.”

“Thank you, also, do you happen to have some paper and something to write with?” She turned around, picking some paper and a pen up and handing it to me. I returned her smile and headed over to the out of date computers sitting at the back of the room. 

I turned the old thing on, a sound a little bit like music coming out of the speakers as it booted up. It was then that I remembered that although I’ve shoved a flash drive in one of these and let things happen until it said “COMPLETE,” I wasn’t too familiar with computers .  Sure I had wanted to work with those beautiful machines, simply being left alone with one for an hour with a manual and figuring out all of it’s secrets. I had no idea what in me was pushing me so much towards them, but it was there.

Once the machine turned on, I looked at the display. Luckily, it wasn’t too difficult to figure out, there were only two little icons on the screen, and the one that looked like a little trash can was probably not what I wanted. The other was a little colorful circle called “Chrome.” Personally, I didn't see what was chrome about it but I clicked it, and a screen popped up. The word “Google'' was written across the middle of the screen along with a small bar with a picture of a magnifying glass at the left side. 

It took me a minute, but I figured out what I needed to do. The first thing that I could think of to search for was Bucky. I typed his name into the search bar and pressed enter, and tons of results flooded the screen.

The problem was that I didn’t know any of the concrete facts about him. I knew that his name was Bucky, and how he was sweet and funny even though we’ve both been through so much, but I didn’t know his last name, or when he was born, or even how old he was. 

There was a little tab called images that made the most sense to me. If I could find a picture of him in the pool of “Bucky”s that existed in the world, I could find out who he was, and then hopefully, figure out who I was from there. There were many pictures, at first it was overwhelming, but as I scrolled slightly, I found it, found him. 

He looked younger, more innocent, with a short haircut and a blue leather jacket that made me swoon a little bit. He looked different, but I couldn’t mistake those beautiful blue eyes. I clicked on the picture, which led me to a sight called Wikipedia, with his photo in the corner. 

“James Buchanan Barnes, born on March 10th, 1917, was a member of the Howling commandos and best friend to Steve Rogers (Captain America).”

I continued reading, writing down the important bits , how he was tested on by HYDRA way back in 1943, and how he was supposedly killed after falling from a train. But he couldn’t have died, I didn’t know him back then, I knew him now. 

The name Steve Rogers continuously popped up, so I clicked on it, and was flooded with even more information. Once I had everything I had to know written down after the rabbit hole I had been down, I turned to the librarian to ask her one last question.

“Do you think you could give me directions to Avengers Tower?”

I would have preferred to take a cab but I couldn't without money, so walking 20 blocks was my only option. The tower was huge, and I found it much too easy to walk right in. There were people walking and sitting at tables in the lobby, working at filling out paperwork. I went up to the desk, not allowing them to get a word in before I could say what I needed to. 

“I need to speak with Steve Rogers.”

“Ma’am, if you just give us a moment, we can help you.”

“No, you don’t understand, everyone here is in danger, Bucky is in danger.” A man in the back stood up, walking towards me to get a better look at me. His hair was graying and his glasses filled up most of his face. He looked pale, as if he had just seen a ghost. 

“Y/N?”

“Get this shit away from me! I told you, I need to talk to Steve Rogers, he’s the only one who will understand.”

“Y/N, I know you don’t remember but we need to do some tests.”

“Please, just get me in touch with him!”

The lab, I’ll admit, was friendlier than most that I had been in. The room was filled with computers and scientific equipment that I really wanted to go and play with for some Rita’s on. There were nodes stuck to my forehead that were oddly gentle, but I still didn’t like the feeling.There was a small TV connected to the ceiling showing the news. A woman’s voice was heard over the mess that was being filmed. 

“In breaking news today, wanted fugitive from S.H.I.E.L.D., Captain America, has been spotted in Washington D.C. battling with a masked stranger in the middle of the highway. “

I  looked to the screen and immediately recognized him, It was Bucky, my Bucky, fighting it out with Steve Rogers. He had taken off his goggles, the two of them fighting with an intensity that I had never seen before. The only person that could match Bucky in a fight like that was me, so this was damn impressive. 

“There! There he is, you need to get me to Washington D.C!”

“Y/N, you need to calm down, we need to help you first.” A second man began to get near me, pulling the leg of my pants up, exposing the metallic nature of my left leg. I panicked and kicked the man away, sending him across the room. 

“I don’t need help, I need to get to Washington D.C., and how the hell do you know my name?” I pushed the man off of me and got up, trying to get out of the lab. I had almost made it out of the door when I felt a sharp pain in my neck. I immediately felt woozy, falling back into the chair closest to me.

“It’s gonna be ok, Stats, I’m gonna take care of you,” The graying man from earlier said, helping me back into the lab chair from earlier with music less resistance than before. My vision got spotty, as his wistful, almost bittersweet facial expression was the last thing I saw before total blackness.

[shirlleycoyle]

How 9/11 Became Fan Fiction Canon

Every fictional character you can think of has experienced 9/11 in fanfiction.

A Clone Wars veteran with two lightsabers is on United Airlines Flight 93 and prevents it from crashing. Ron and Hermione get caught up in the chaos as the towers fall. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and her friends watch the attacks unfold on TV from Sunnydale. We have spent 20 years trying to process what happened on 9/11 and its fallout, and that messy process can be tracked through the countless, sad, disturbing, and sometimes very funny fanfiction left across the internet.

Many of the fanfics written in the weeks and months following the 9/11 attacks seemed to directly respond to the news as it happened, processing the tragedy in real-time through the eyes of characters they loved. In the absence of a canon episode where Daria Morgendorffer paid respects to those lost, writing fanfic about these characters also experiencing trauma helped fans cope.

One YuGiOh fanfic published on fanfiction.net in May 2002 could have been ripped exactly from what this writer experienced that Tuesday morning. “It started as a normal day,” user Gijinka Renamon wrote. Yugi and his friends were in school, where their teacher informed them of the attacks and sent everyone home from school.

“After reading people’s 9/11 fics, I decided to write my own, and put a certain character in it. And Yugi and his pals were my first choice,” the author's note reads, explaining the connection they felt to United flight 93 and the World Trade Center attacks. Given that they lived in Pennsylvania, and “it’s close to New York, I felt really sad about it.”

Stitch, a fandom journalist for Teen Vogue, told Motherboard that this reaction to 9/11 is not at all uncommon in fandom.

"Fandom has always been a place that positions nothing as 'off limits,'" she said. "Historical tragedies like the Titanic sinking and atrocities like… all of World War 2 show up regularly across the past 30 years of people creating stories and art about the characters they love. So, on some level, it makes sense that 9/11 and the following 20-year military installation in the Middle East has joined the ranks of things people in different fandoms turn into settings for their fan fiction."

Reactions depicted in a handful of Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfics published in the weeks after the attacks ring a little truer to the characters. “Tuesday, 11th September 2001,” written by Anna K, almost echoes the lyrics from “I’ve Got a Theory,” one of the songs in the musical episode that aired in November 2001. “We have seen the apocalypse. We have prevented it. Actually, we’ve prevented quite a few. So we know what they look like,” they write, before taking a darker turn. “They look a lot like…New York today.”

Killing demons and vampires doesn’t phase the Scooby Gang, but when preventable human death is brought into the picture, it’s gut wrenching.

“What am I supposed to do…When I can’t do anything to save the world?” Buffy cries  into Spike’s chest, watching the attacks unfold on TV in a fanfic the author described as being “about feeling numb and helpless.”

In “Blood Drive,” Kirayoshi writes about Buffy and her friends saving a van full of donated blood meant for victims of the attacks from a group of thirsty vampires. One Buffy the Vampire Slayer fic even takes a blindly patriotic turn, where noted lesbian witch Tara McClay helps Xander hang an American flag from the window of the magic shop to make Anya feel better.

Experiencing 9/11 as a young teenager was overwhelming not just because of the loss of life. Almost immediately after the event itself, it was as if the entirety of American culture re-oriented itself towards an overtly jingoistic stance. As we get distance from the attacks, seeing the tone of television and movies from the early 2000s is jarring, and some have gone viral on Twitter. In the world of pop music, mainstream musicians like the Chicks, formerly known as the Dixie Chicks, were blacklisted from the radio while Toby Keith sang about putting a boot up the ass of terrorists. On the Disney Channel, a young Shia Labeouf reading a poem he supposedly wrote about the events. The poem concludes with the line, "it's awesome to be an American citizen."

In a world so completely saturated with this messaging, it is not surprising that fanfic authors started including 9/11 in their work so soon after the event. Even The West Wing had a strange, out of continuity, fanfic-esque episode where the characters reacted to 9/11. In some cases, it made sense that the characters in the stories would be close to or a part of the events themselves.

"For characters like John Watson or Captain America, the idea works to an extent," Stitch told Motherboard. "In the original Sherlock Holmes works and the 2011 BBC series, Watson had just returned from Afghanistan. For Captain America and other Marvel heroes, 9/11 was something that was addressed in-universe in The Amazing Spider-Man volume 2 #36. Technically, 9/11 is 'canon' to the Marvel universe."

In “Early Warning: Terrorism,” a fanfiction for the TV show Early Edition in which a man who mysteriously receives tomorrow's newspaper, predicting the future, avoids jingoism, but tries to precent 9/11 from happening. This fanfic remains unfinished; it’s unclear if the characters successfully prevent 9/11 in this retelling.

Largely in fanfic from the era just after 9/11, when many young authors were trying to emotionally grapple with it, the characters don't re-write or undo the events themselves. It's this emphasis on the reaction to tragedy that colors the fanfiction that features 9/11 going forward.

Although fanfiction authors have been writing about 9/11 consistently since soon after the event, whenever that fanfiction reaches outside of its intended audience, it looks bizarre.

A screenshot of a Naruto 9/11 fanfic on the Tumblr subreddit comes without any context, or even more than two lines and an author's note. It’s impossible to suss out if this falls into the category of sincere fanfic without the rest of the piece or a publication date, but modern-day commenters on the Reddit thread see it as classic Tumblr trash.

Screenshot from r/Tumblr

“Bin Laden/Dick Cheney, enemies to lovers, 10k words, slow burn,” one user joked in the replies, underscoring the weirdness of Naruto being in the Twin Towers by comparing it to a What If story about Cheney and Bin Laden slowly falling deeply in love.

It’s hard to tell how much of the 9/11 fanfic and fanart starting a few years after the attacks is sincere, and how much of it is ironic, and trying to make fun of the very concept of writing fanfiction about 9/11.

A 2007 anime music video (in which various clips, usually from anime, are cut together to music) that combines scenes from The Lion King with Linkin Park’s “Crawling” and clips from George Bush’s speeches immediately after the attacks feels like the perfect example of this. Even the commenters can’t seem to suss out if this person is a troll or not.

There’s no way that My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic 9/11 fanart could be serious, right? Especially if the description pays tribute to “some of the nation's most memorable buildings,” and features five of the main characters as child versions of themselves. The comments again are split between users thanking the artist for a thoughtful remembrance post, and people making their own headcanon for why Twilight Sparkle is surreptitiously absent from the scene.

Screengrab via DeviantArt

There’s Phineas and Ferb fanfic that combines a 9/11 tribute concert with flashbacks to Ferb being rescued from the towers as a baby, written on the 10th anniversary of the attacks. It jumps from introspection to lines like, “‘Quiet Perry the Platypus. I’m trying to listen to these kids singing a 9/11 tribute.’”

The author's notes make it more likely that they meant for this to be a tribute piece, but it doesn’t quite make sense until watching a YouTube dramatic reading of it from 2020, fully embracing the absurdity of it all.

“For me, 9/11 is synonymous with war. It completely changed the course of my life," Dreadnought, the author of a Captain America fanfic Baghdad Waltz that sees Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes fall in love over the course of the war on terror, told Motherboard. "It’s the reason I joined the military, and I developed deep connections with people who would go on to deploy to Afghanistan and Iraq. These very much felt like my generation’s wars, perhaps because people I graduated high school with were the youngest folks eligible to serve at the time.”

Dreadnought told Motherboard that although they didn't deploy, their career has kept 9/11 and the trauma from it in their mind. After seeing that people who fantasize about Steve and Bucky getting together seemed particularly interested in reading fanfiction that related to 9/11, they decided to try their hand at it.

"I had to do something with all of that emotionally, and I’m admittedly a bit emotionally avoidant. So I learned through fic that it’s easier for me to process those feelings and the knowledge of all the awful stuff that can happen in war if I can turn it into something creative," Dreadnought said. "Give the feelings to fake people and then have those fake people give the feelings to readers!"

To Dreadnought, who is a queer man, the experience of researching and writing this was more cathartic than they first expected, especially as a way to navigate feelings about masculinity, military culture, and queer identity. But they said the research they did, which included watching footage of first responders at ground zero, was what helped them finally process the event itself.

"It was like a delayed horror, and it was more powerful than I expected it would be." Dreadnought said. "When I was eighteen, I was pretty emotionally divorced from 9/11; I just knew I wanted to do something about it. So coming back to it in my 30s while writing this fic, it was a very different experience. Even the research for this story ended up being an extraordinarily valuable exercise in cognitively and emotionally processing 9/11 and all of its second and third order effects."

Fanfiction that features 9/11 provides an outlet for people who still grapple with the trauma from that day. But Stitch warns that the dynamics of fandom and how it relates to politics can also create fiction that's less respectful and more grotesque.

"With years of distance between the stories written and the original events of 9/11, there seems to be some sort of cushion for fans who choose to use those events as a catalyst for relationships—and Iraq and Afghanistan for settings," Stitch said. "The cushion allows them room to fictionalize real world events that changed the shape of the world as we know it, but it also insulates them from having to think about what they may be putting into the world."

The tendency of turning these events into settings or backgrounds for mostly white, male characters to fall in love has the unintended effect of displacing the effects that the war on terror has had on the world over. Steve and Bucky might fall in love during the war on terror, but they would also be acting as a part of the American military in a war that has been criticized since it started. Fanfic writers in other fandoms have come under fire for using real world tragedy as settings for fic before. In the aftermath of the 2010 Haiti earthquake Supernatural fanfiction about the actors Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki going to the island to do aid became controversial within the fandom. There have also been fics where characters grapple with the death of George Floyd that is written in a way that displaces the event from the broader cultural context of race in America.

"A Captain America story where Steve Rogers is a 'regular' man who joins the US Army and 'fights for our freedom' post-9/11 is unlikely to deal with the war’s effect on locals who are subject to US military intervention," Stitch said. "It’s unlikely to sit with what Captain America has always meant and what a writer is doing by dropping Steve Rogers into a then-ongoing conflict in any capacity."

After enough time, “never forget” can even morph into “but what if it never happened?” A 19k+ word Star Wars alternate universe fanfic asks this question, wondering what would have unfolded if someone with two lightsabers was on United Flight 93. This fic, part of a larger fanfic series with its own Wikia, considers what would have happened if Earth was a military front in the Clone Wars.

In this version of events, a decorated general who served in the Clone Wars is able to take back control of Flight 93 before it crashes, landing safely and preventing even more tragedy from happening that day. In the end, all of the passengers who made harrowing last calls to their loved ones before perishing in a Pennsylvania field survive thanks to the power of the Force, and are awarded medals of honor by President Bush.

Twenty years after the attacks, it’s painful to think about what would have happened if people got to work 15 minutes later, or missed their trains that morning. There weren’t Jedi masters deployed to save people in real life, but for some of the fanfic writers working today, the world of Star Wars might feel just as removed as the world before September 11, 2001.

Fiction serves as a powerful playground for processing cultural events, especially generational trauma. The act isn't neutral though; a decade's worth of fanfiction that takes place on or around 9/11 shows how our own understanding of a traumatic event can shift with time.

How 9/11 Became Fan Fiction Canon syndicated from https://triviaqaweb.wordpress.com/feed/

[thechildofstark]

Fuck John Walker (and also some other stuff): A Response To Episode Four

WARNING: some bad language, death mentions, violence mentions, blood mentions, racism, spoilers for for ep 4 of tfatws 

DISCLAMER: I have some Opinions about various characters. These do not extend to the actors, who I’m sure are lovely and should be treated with the dignity, privacy and respect that they deserve. 

“Fuck John Walker” was originally meant to be the subtitle. I decided on it when he screwed up the op for Sam. It got ungraded during the final scene, because nothing else could possibly compare as a necessary title to this post. 

Essentially, some (out of order) thoughts on episode 4:

~*Sam and Bucky, working together*~ (pretend this is a musical jingle)

The contrasting ways that they interacted with the displaced

While the incredibly valid argument can be made that Sam is the least privileged of the group (I’ve made it) it is obvious that he has had the most structured civilian life: approaching the people he comes across openly. Yes, he is polite and calm, but the closest thing to this he has personally come across in the past (that we know of) would be the war vets he worked with and the critical difference is that they wanted to be there. From what I remember of Sam’s groups they didn’t seem to be a sort of mandatory requirement: you came because you chose to. Or at least, you came prepared for the situation. Here, Sam is an outsider and an unwelcome threat. These people are not going to open up to him. 

Bucky is quieter, but still quite straight forward in the way he presents himself. I think he may show a little more care for the environment he is in than Sam but that isn’t saying much. Yes, he has experienced much worse things than Sam but we still see his unfamiliarity with this sort of situation paired with some less than stellar social skills really not working in his favor. 

Look, I love both these 2 to death. But this is not what they know. 

Zemo on the other hand quite likely lived in a place similar to this after his family was murdered. He shows an understanding of how this sort of situation would work, going to children who:

a) wont necessarily peg him as an outsider

b) are bribable

also I think he was genuinely super glad to give those kids that candy and money. He would have been such a good dad. now I have Zemo feels. somebody help me.

The inclusion of the Dora Milaje was incredibly awesome, and not just because I simp for powerful women. Narratively, this was the perfect place for them to join the party and assert their right to apprehend Zemo. 

Bucky speaking Xhosa (i think it was?) is very cool

 I would like to take this moment to formally state that Caption John Walker is a motherfucking asshole. 

It was also really nice to see Sam’s therapist skills, that worked against him earlier really help him here. 

I liked seeing that more human side of Karli, and having her interact with the “enemy” and have serious conversation about what everyone is doing.

Until Captain Insecurity has to destroy the op because he doesn’t trust the people he chose to work with, no one has comms or anything I guess?

Also Walker deferring to Bucky for team decisions over Sam, talking over Sam and acting like he knows better than Sam?

I smell racism in this Chili’s tonight

It was also really interesting to get a more in-depth look at how Zemo views supersoldiers. Nearly all the ones that he has either heard of or interacted with (destroyed) had either volunteered for the serum or were so brainwashed that it didn’t make a difference. These people are a dangerous enemy to be eliminated, alongside people like Dr. Nagel. His entire worldview is focused on their destruction that the idea that one of them could be a normal person is impossible to him. The only exceptions acknowledged are Steve (paragon of saintly virtue) and Bucky. 

And the fact that after his family died and his country devastated he would most likely have fixated on both the Avengers and the “concept” of a superhuman being as something to blame for his loss. His refusal to concede his position to Sam isn’t just arrogance, although that seems to be a part of it, but the fact that he has spent so much time and energy in destroying both the Winter Soldier program and most likely other similar operations, along with the Avengers that this hatred and belief in the danger has most likely become one of his core beliefs. To change this would be to question his vendetta against the Avengers, to question his actions against the Winter Soldier program which he knows was a horrible thing, and to question why he has spent the past seven years in maximum security prison. This isn’t something he is ready to do yet.  

The fact that Bucky is a noted exception is something that stands out to me. Zemo knows that Bucky is a good person, regardless of the serum. 

Bucky is also the only main character (that I can think of) that was injected with the serum against his will. The fact that he didn’t seek it out could quite likely be part of the reason that Zemo doesn’t look down on him for it - it is framed that the sort of person that seeks out that sort of strength/power would be a “supremacist”, someone who would use their abilities to harm and subjugate others.

And while we are at the apartment may I say how funny it is to see Zemo just. Literally being Sam and Bucky’s sugar daddy. He transports them and houses them and makes them fancy tea. It’s possible he’s providing them with clothes. Either way, love it. Cannot wait for the boys to work it out.

Sam and Lemar’s responses to being offered the serum are an interesting juxtaposition to how they view the concept of supersoldiers. They have both experienced hardship and survived war but Sam is the one that has gone up against Gods and monsters and he wants none of that, thank you. 

And Lemar is so comfortable with saying yes because it isn’t actually being offered to him. Walker expresses some hesitation in their discussion because for him, it isn’t hypothetical. This is something real that can and will effect him for the rest of his life and he wants to make the “right decision”.

The return of Erskine’s belief that the serum not only effect the physical but the mental, emotional and (possibly?) spiritual. This isn’t something that’s really been touched on outside of The First Avenger and I liked that it turned up here. But the fact that it was the reason Walker felt comfortable taking the serum? Eww

The Dora Milaje kicking names and taking ass is super awesome. They are so incredibly skilled and have such amazing teamwork and are also super beautiful I love them 

Sam and Bucky just. Watching. Enjoying the show. Absolute kings. 

Zemo being the sneaky little sneak that he is :)

One one hand, Bucky losing his arm in the fight was very awesome. One the other hand, he has a long history of complicated bodily autonomy in relation to that arm so........  Neutral opinion it is then 

Karli, honey, I really want to like you but can you please keep the mans family out of it. Okay?

And another thing that this show made me think about: kids left to fend for themselves after the Blip (uuuurrrggh it hate calling it that. stupid canonical name). I think it’s good that at least some people took it on themselves to take these children in, to give them good lives and families.

The way that Sam has incorporated his wings into his combat style is very cool

Okie dokie can’t avoid it forever lets get this over with. 

LEMAR MY BEAUTIFUL SON NOOOO

those fuckers (the writers i mean)

Side note: did they really have to make the first main character death of the series a Black “sidekick” character? No. No they did not. 

Side side note: I understand that this is a perfectly valid way (ew) to “advance the plot” but I can and will be annoyed about it

And now we really get into the shit. But...........................

As much as I absolutely unequivocally hate John Walker I actually like the thematic parallels of how they did this. All throughout The First Avenger Steve is adamant on how he doesn’t want to hurt anyone, he just wants to stand up to the bullies. It’s only after Bucky dies that he says he wants to kill all the Nazis and really get into the horror of it all. The fact that John, who has absolutely been on the edge for the entire episode if not longer, only loses it after Lemar dies?

Because Lemar is arguably meant to be that stand-in for Bucky in the eyes of the public, and they are obviously close friends..........

Just - 

I feel I may have accidentally been slightly nicer than I planned to Walker in this post. I’m not sure how I feel about that. 

But C****** J*** W****** is NOT Captain America. Up until now I’ve been calling him “Fake Cap” in my head and to my family, but he doesn’t even deserve that honor. 

And the blood on the Shield. Dear god that was horrible. 

And the fact that, as it was pointed out in this very episode, this man fully represents everything that is Captain America, to the world. He isn’t only tarnishing his own legacy, he is also destroying Steve’s. And to some extent, Bucky’s. The whole reason that Bucky Barnes is considered a “Superhero” is because, at least in America he is known as “Cap’s Best Friend”. He was marketed that way for over half a century, and after the whole “Winter Solder” thing, goodwill or no, brainwashing or no, this could end very ugly for him. Not to mention that Steve Rogers is most likely to be forgotten to history in favor of this freak. 

And on that note, where the fuck is Steve? This is set only 6 months after Endgame, if he had died we would know. So what the hell is he doing? Because I know he got perpetual brainrot going back in time to be str8 and boring but dear god if the show tries to tell me that he’s just chilling in some senior’s center in Alaska I will actually call bullshit. Steve Rogers would never. Okay this is a whole separate post on my thought on Steve. Watch this space I guess. 

And while we’re all here, Bucky Barnes needs a goddamn boyfriend. I’ve done some thinking, and here is a compiled shortlist: 

Sam

Zemo

De-aged Steve (he would be higher but I’m still mad at him for the whole “vanishing without a word to relive Jim Crow and the Lavender Scare. :/ )

IN THAT ORDER. 

That’s all folks. 

Feel free to send me asks if you want clarification or extra details on anything. 

And finally - 

the thing we all came to see:

FUCK

JOHN 

WALKER

fin

[lynnsfics]

The Sticky Web of Fate’s Strings

Pairing: Bucky x Reader Soulmate AU (Gender-neutral pronouns)

Word Count: approx. 3k

~~~

Soulmates, connected by the strings of Fate, shared a similar life force. In simpler terms, every time your soulmate was injured, from the tiniest scratch to a broken bone, the same thing would happen to you. 

Growing up, Bucky always found himself getting into scrapes trying to defend Steve. But every bruise, every scratch, he got on his own. Never once did a single bruise or cut appear that wasn’t his own. Even his sisters started showing some little cuts when they were only toddlers. Hell, half of Steve’s were from his soulmate.

Every time it was brought up, Bucky’s mom would try to reassure him, stating that maybe his soulmate was just very cautious or didn’t get hurt easily. But by the time he was in his 20s and there wasn’t even a sign, he knew his soulmate just wasn’t out there. That’s why he didn’t hesitate when signing up for the war, knowing there wasn’t anyone out there he’d be leaving behind. That’s also why when he fell from the freightcar, there wasn’t any fear, only acceptance at what the Fates had dealt him. HYDRA didn’t mind the fact he didn’t have a soulmate. It guaranteed less memories, less trouble. Until the day Bucky got a cut that wasn’t his own. You were born missing your left arm, The doctors reassured your parents it wasn’t anything that happened to you, but rather your soulmate and you were given a functioning prosthetic to use. You were never upset about having to relearn everything with the prosthetic, however. And on the upside, there weren’t a lot of people missing a whole arm, which would only make finding your other half easier. 

Or so you thought. You were five when it first happened. It was during recess, you were sitting on the sidewalk next to your best friend Stephanie and drawing a flower with chalk. Suddenly, you felt a piercing pain in your leg, followed by blood seeping from your wound. You weren’t sure who screamed first, but one of you did, drawing the teacher’s attention. Seeing what happened, her face paled and she rushed you to the nurse. The wound looked like a bullet had caused it, but since there was no way it would have been possible for you to have been shot, they concluded that it had been your soulmate.  

You spent the rest of the day in agonizing pain, and the teacher’s gave you the rest of the month off to heal. You can imagine the surprise when your wound fully healed in about a week. You returned to school, and passed a few more years without incident.

Occasionally, you would get pounding headaches followed by bouts of amnesia that would last several days. But it seemed every few years, a bullet wound, or stab wound, or sometimes both, would appear, only to heal in about a week or so. But through it all, you were less worried about yourself and more concerned for your soulmate’s safety. It was puzzling not knowing who they were, and even more so not knowing how they healed so quickly. You did countless hours of research on soulmates. Everyone knew the basics. When you were born, the Fates tied a thread that connected your life to your soulmates. This connection wasn’t just spiritual, but physical as well. Your injuries would appear on your soulmate and vice versa. Some people didn’t have the same soul connection as others, and instead experienced a purely platonic relationship with their soulmate. After another long night of reading numerous articles, you were no closer to finding anything that was similar to what you experienced. 

Your alarm was blaring in your ear. Rolling over, you grabbed your phone to check the time, and then proceeded to have a miniature heart attack. You hated morning shifts but Stephanie asked you to cover for her and you agreed. You couldn’t refuse your best friend, especially since she covered your shift last week after another bullet wound appeared.

You rolled out of bed, taking a quick glance around your apartment. You found your uniform through the mess and grabbed your keys before heading out the door. Cursing, you turned around and went back inside. The sunlight glinted off the wood floors, temporarily blinding you.  As you set out a bowl of cat food, you prayed another wave of amnesia wasn’t starting.  You felt something scratch at your leg, drawing a few drops of blood, and looked down where Nala meowed up at you. You shook your head at her before grabbing your phone, which you also forgot, and headed out, for real this time.

The morning was hot and humid as you walked to work. The summer sun was beating down on the pavement, still wet from the previous night’s rainstorm, causing a faint mist to hang in the air. You groaned internally at how many complicated iced coffees you’d have to make.

Arriving at the corner coffeeshop, you realized you’d be the only one working that morning. You unlocked the door and turned on the lights inside. The smell of coffee filled your senses and you felt a feeling of familiarity wash over you. You flipped the sign on the door to say ‘open’, and then turned on the television. Although you would have loved to watch some morning talk show, you switched on the news, deciding to get caught up on what you missed while you were recuperating.

A picture of Avengers tower was on screen, and you wondered what controversy they had sparked this time. A newscaster stated, “Today James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, best friend of Captain America and former Winter Soldier, is officially becoming a member of the Avengers. Although his past with HYDRA has made people skeptical of him, most are excited to see what he has to bring to the team.” 

When a picture of him was shown, you gasped. He was handsome, with piercing blue eyes and shoulder length locks of chestnut hair, but most apparent was his metal arm. You grabbed your laptop and looked up his name. Apparently he had fought next to Steve Rogers in World War Two, where he allegedly died. But instead, he was found by HYDRA and brainwashed into being an assassin. 

You shook your head. It couldn’t be true, there was no way he could be your soulmate. You closed your laptop and pushed it away, electing to think of something, anything else. 

The bell on the door jingled as a group of customers entered the shop. As you prepared their order, you felt a sharp pain in your thigh, and you instantly knew it was a stab wound. Gritting your teeth through the pain, you continued making their drinks. After dealing with this for twenty-some years, you had developed a high pain tolerance. 

A breaking news alert appeared on the television just as you felt a bullet enter your other leg. 

~~~

It was the big day. Bucky was nervously suiting up for his first official public appearance since joining the Avengers when he felt something scratch the back of his leg. Glancing down, he saw a few drops of blood appear. 

He remembered when he first started to get small marks from his soulmate, and he always managed to hide them from HYDRA. Even while brainwashed, he knew that they’d find a way to use his soulmate against him.

Trying to brush it off, he finished getting ready and started out the door. The moment he stepped outside Avengers Tower he was flocked by the press trying to get an interview with the infamous Winter Soldier. 

Cameras were flashing all around him, and he squeezed his eyes shut, his head starting to get fuzzy. He couldn’t deal with flashing lights, not since the “shock therapy” that  HYDRA had put him through. Luckily, Steve pulled him out of the crowd, guiding him towards the stage where the press conference would take place. 

Once he was sure no one was around, he glanced over at Steve, “I got another scratch today. It wasn’t from anything I did, so it had to have been from them.” Steve smiled, “Well that’s a good thing Buck. That means your soulmate is out there somewhere.” “That’s just it, Steve. I don’t know,” he paused, “I don’t know if I want to find them.” 

“Why not? When we were younger-” “Because things aren’t the same as when we were younger. You know that just as well as I do. The things I’ve done,” he trailed off before continuing. “Besides, the amount of times I’ve gotten hurt on missions, my soulmate got hurt too. If they have any sense, they won’t want to find me, either.” 

“Bucky you can’t mean that.” But before he could answer he was swept away by another wave of reporters. 

By the time the press conference had started, Bucky had managed to dodge a lecture from Steve at least three times. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to find his soulmate. He longed for that connection more than anything else. But there was something so daunting about the thought that someone out there was meant to be his other half. And when that someone found out the Winter Soldier was their soulmate? They’d go running the other way, and he couldn’t bear that. He didn’t need someone else to be scared of him. 

Stepping on stage, he felt everyone’s eyes on him, judging silently. He now wished that Steve hadn’t talked him into his current outfit. It was tasteful tactical gear, but there were no sleeves, meaning the metal arm was on full display. The sunlight glinting off of it didn’t exactly help make it any less threatening either. 

Steve was at the mic, warming up the crowd. “And now, I would like to introduce my closest friend, Bucky Barnes.” 

Just as he was about to take the microphone, bullets started flying. 

A tall man with pitch black hair emerged from behind the makeshift stage. Grabbing the microphone, he shouted over the din of the crowds, “Your Avengers cannot save you, in time all empires fall.” 

A knife found its way into Bucky’s thigh and he winced, but kept going. This wasn’t any time to tend to his wounds. He could feel bullets bouncing off his suit, which he was now thankful for, until one lodged itself into his side. 

Over the intercom he could hear the others talking and discussing different strategies, but FRIDAY’s voice spoke over them all. “An explosive has been detected in a building a few blocks from here. It may have a connection to all of this.” 

“Bucky and I will head over to check it out,” Steve replied. Bucky sighed to himself, even during a crisis Steve would find time for a lecture. “Look,” he said as they made their way towards the row of buildings, “your soulmate is someone who’s going to accept you, no matter who you are or what you’ve done. Why don’t you give them a chance?” “Because say they do accept me, then what? Something like what’s happening right now happens, and they get hurt or killed in the crossfire, just because they’re my soulmate? And HYDRA can literally use them to hurt me. It’s not worth the risk to put them in that kind of danger, I can’t risk it.” “And what if they already know? I mean, your soulmate has been getting bullet wounds their whole life, and is probably missing an arm. Seeing you on television, they might make the connection.” Bucky considered it for a moment, “Look, if I somehow find my soulmate, it might work out. But I just want to make sure they don’t feel pressured to fall in love with someone who used to be the Winter Soldier because of it.” “I’m glad you-,” before Steve could finish his sentence, an explosion came from a nearby coffee shop and at that moment Bucky felt the wind get knocked out of his lungs.

~~~

As much as you usually tried to hide your pain from the customers, it was hard not to cry out in agony as a building crumbled on top of you. Breathing became a struggle as the weight of the debris began to crush your lungs. Something sharp was digging into your back but when you tried to move dots danced in front of your vision. 

Over the ringing in your ears you were able to make out some voices. “Help,” you called out weakly, coughing as you spoke. “I’m over here, please, someone help,”

Dust fell from the rubble above you as some bricks were moved. Some of the weight shifted off your chest, and you felt like you could breathe again. The debris was moving faster now, and soon a stream of sunlight came through and fresh air entered the rubble. As you were finally able to move around a bit more, you realized your prosthetic arm was hanging limp at your side. As much as you wanted to get upset about it, that was the least of your worries. Blood was dripping from your head and back. You probably had at least a few broken bones, but you were thankful you were even alive. 

An arm reached through the rubble to help you out, and as soon as you made contact a shock went through your body. It couldn’t be possible. 

Once you were back on your feet you made eye contact with the same pair of piercing blue eyes you had seen on the television. Very elegantly, you said, “You, you’re my, my-” “Soulmate,” he finished with a sad smile. “We have a lot to talk about, but you should probably get some rest first.” 

You could only nod in response, between the shock and the thrumming headache forming in the back of your mind, no words could be found. So in a way, you felt lucky that the blood loss hit you at the exact moment, causing you to pass out.

A steady beeping in your ear awoke you. Groggily, you tried to open your eyes, but promptly squeezed them shut again as a blindingly white light hit them. A cleanly smell filled your senses, and you realized the loose fitting clothes you were wearing were not your own. You realized you were in the hospital, a place you were used to, needing to go there frequently because of your soulmate. 

Your eyes shot open. Soulmate. All the memories came flooding back to you, The building collapsing, the pain, him. As you tried to sit up you realized the hospital you were in was not your own. 

A man in a white lab coat stood near your bed, a warm smile on his face. He looked familiar, although you couldn’t quite place where you knew him from until he spoke. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. I’m Bruce Banner, I’ve been tasked with making sure you recover fully.”

“Bruce Banner? What alternate reality did I wake up in,” you asked yourself. “Where am I?” 

“You’re safe in the hospital at Avengers tower,” he answered reassuringly. “We were able to fix your arm, and the man who set off the explosion has been apprehended. Oh, and Steve told me what happened, about the whole, uh, soulmates thing. Bucky’s been recovering in the room over, since he sustained all the same injuries you did. But he’s been feeling much better, so when you’re ready I can send him to see you. If you’re alright with that,” he said.

You hesitated for only a moment before replying. “Can you send him in now?” 

A few moments later the door swung open and Bucky entered, looking tired, but not much worse for wear. You noticed he wasn’t wearing a hospital gown but was instead back in some kind of tactical gear. “Hey doll,” he smiled softly, “how are you feeling?” 

“A lot better, thank you. Are you alright, I know from first hand experience that having a building fall on you isn’t much fun and since,” you trailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unspoken. 

He pulled a chair next to your bed, “I’m doing better, the super serum definitely has its benefits in situations like this.”

You took a sharp breath in before speaking, “So, I’m guessing you want to talk about all this soulmate business.” Almost immediately after asking you felt a bit embarrassed and the bedsheet seemed a hundred times more interesting than it had a minute ago.

“If you want to,” he paused, and you nodded a brief ‘yes’. He continued, “No one knows besides us, Steve and Dr. Banner. So you aren’t in any danger. I understand if you don’t want this, I know I’m not the ideal soulmate-” Your head snapped up as you cut him off, “Bucky, why would I not want to be your soulmate?” “With everything I’ve done,” he sighed, not meeting your gaze, “and all the pain you’ve been put through because of it.  And being my soulmate comes with a lot of dangerous consequences. I just assumed that it would be easier for you to just walk away.”

You gently held his hand and intertwined your fingers. Meeting his gaze, you said,  “What you did in the past was not you, and it has no reflection on who you are as a person. And every scar I have just served as a reminder that there was someone out there to complete me.” You ran your thumb over a scar on his hand, a perfect match to a scar on that was your palm. “My whole life I’ve known  my soulmate led some kind of dangerous life, I’ve come to terms with that. It would not be easier for me to just walk away from you, in fact it would be damn near impossible.”

He smiled as he untangled your fingers to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. Leaning towards you, he whispered, “Doll, would it be alright if I kissed you?” And when you answered yes, his lips met yours and your heart fluttered. And although you might not have the “safest” life with Bucky as your soulmate, you knew it would be perfect. 

~~~ General taglist:

@sydneyisnotawriter

@dark-night-sky-99

To those of you who just found this one shot, welcome! And to those of you who are here after reading Coffee Stained Confusion, welcome back! I will be posting a few one shots over the next few weeks before starting the next longer fic! As always, likes and reblogs are much appreciated and let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! Love you all <3

[lillupon]

So, I've got a very long rant/opinion here and Idk really know how to say this without coming off kinda bad but I'm gonna say it anyways. I agree with the fact that the seventeen tag has been kinda dry lately on most fanfic places, but it's really only in the smut area. It's the sane way with other groups too I feel like. All of the nice little innocent tags are boomin to this day and thats completely fine. I think the smut tag is dry tho bc lately I feel like a few social issues (like sexualizing people and disrespecting them and their identity) have crossed over into kpop and have been ?blown out of proportion? Lately there's been a rampage of people who like to say that writing smut about someone is disgusting and is dehumanizing because people want to assume that it would make the idols uncomfortable which could equate to some morality issues on how you are reducing someone only to their body without their consent and a bunch of stuff like that. It kind of pisses me off bc this is fiction. About grown adults. Clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life. I think a shit ton is wrong with the world we currently live in, and deciding to come after something that isn't even real bothers me. Like what does that actually accomplish. But yeah, I think thats a reason why smut has been dying down. I mean, on youtube almost every video about unpopular opinions, or things they dont like about kpop will include something about shipping idols in fanfics. And then everyone in the comment section will talk about how its all fine and dandy in moderation, but once people start writing smut it's crossing the idols personal boundaries. It's something I've been seeing a lot more often and I think people who are interested in writing smut are being turned away from it bc we've gotten to a point where people are being called disgusting for having fantasies.

Hi Anon, thank you for sending in this Ask. 

I want to preface this by saying: when I write or talk about Mingyu and Wonwoo fucking on my blog, it is a fantasy. I am not speculating about what the real Mingyu and Wonwoo might be like in bed. I am imagining the versions of Mingyu and Wonwoo that I have created in my head, that exist only in my stories. None of it is real. I understand that this can be a blurry boundary for some people. But for me, the separation between fantasy and reality is well-defined. Now, on to your Ask!

You’ve hit the nail on the head with this one. You’ve also touched on many of the issues I have been struggling with myself as of late. It’s difficult to argue about morals since everyone has a different set of values, as well as different comfort levels. Some people think real person fiction (RPF) is a gross invasion of privacy. Others are fine with it. And others don’t care one way or another. There is no single answer; I can only offer my answer. Which means, of course, people are welcome to disagree with it, or parts of it. 

In this essay (LOL But forreal: this is an essay), I will be sharing my experience in the k-pop fanfic community from 2014 to present, the etiquette I personally abide by as a reader and writer of RPF, as well as my stance on RPF in general.

I started reading and posting fanfics back in 2014/2015 on a website called AsianFanfics (AFF). Obviously, no one on that site had a problem with RPF, since AFF is a platform made specifically for sharing stories about Asian celebrities. For many years, I read and enjoyed RPF with zero guilt. I scribbled away by myself in my own corner of fandom and curated my own content. I didn’t interact much with other fans, readers, or writers. I didn’t have a Twitter, and I only used tumblr to reblog memes. As a result, I’ve been able to avoid a lot of anti-shipping discourse, as well as purity and cancel culture. I had no idea there were so many negative opinions about RPF. It wasn’t until I became active on the subreddit r/Fanfiction last year that I learned about all the discourse surrounding RPF. 

This newfound ‘awareness’ does make me feel guilty at times—but only because after mulling this over, I still don’t think this is something to feel guilty about.

Here’s what I remember, first and foremost, when I create and consume RPF: fanfics and my favourite ships are fictional, and fiction is fantasy. This is basic etiquette when it comes to RPF, and most people in the k-pop fandom understand this. Delusional fans exist, of course, but they are not representative of the entire k-pop community. 

Another point of etiquette is to keep fanfics within fandom spaces. I would never push my fics into celebrities’ faces, or go around claiming that my fanfics are accurate representations of a k-idol’s life or personality, in any way, shape, or form. I would also discourage directing ship-related questions to official accounts, or bringing them up during fansigns or other face-to-face interactions; I believe that in these instances, shipping does have the potential to strain real-life relationships.

So with basic etiquette out of the way, let me share my approach to RPF in general.

As much as we like to think we know our favourite celebrities, we really don’t. All we see is their public persona. And this public persona is intentionally controlled, managed, and curated by a team of people: directors, tabloids, editors, makeup artists, publicists, etc. How “real” are these celebrities? We are so distanced from them that they may as well be fictional.

I draw from the public persona that idols project, and I work them into my own writing. But at the end of the day, these personalities are my own interpretation. My interpretation is probably nothing like an idol’s actual personality. I just use the “public persona/character” that idols portray as inspiration for my own stories, which are set in wildly different universes.

More than anything, I think of k-pop idols as “actors” in my fic. You know how when you write an original novel, you scroll through Google images, looking for the perfect person to portray your original character? RPF is literally that, except you might build upon pre-existing dynamics and personalities.

When it comes to explicit fanfiction, two main concerns are prevalent: one of consent, and one of sexualisation.

If we argue against explicit RPF due to lack of consent, we should be willing to apply the same lens to all explicit works. How do we know that the creator of a movie, book, series, etc., is okay with us using their characters in our stories, explicit or not? We don’t. Perhaps some creators encourage fanfiction, but don’t want their lovingly crafted characters engaging in sexual acts or experiencing trauma. We just don’t know. I feel this line is even more blurred when we talk about characters from movies or TV series.

Let’s take Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, as portrayed by Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan, from the Captain America movies as an example. I am willing to bet that when people consume and create explicit fanfiction about Steve and Bucky, they are imagining Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan in their heads. I doubt many people are imagining the 2D cartoon versions of Steve and Bucky, even though they’re technically the exact same characters. Why? Well, it could be because movies are more readily and easily consumed than comics, and so people are unfamiliar with comic book Steve and Bucky. But it might also be because fans find Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan attractive. Is this really any different from RPF, where fic authors make up everything about a celebrity’s life?  

When readers and writers of fanfic talk about how hot Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes is, those comments are about Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan’s bodies. When reading explicit stories, fans are going to picture Chris and Sebastian’s bodies in their head, doing sexual things. Can we say, “Well, it’s not really you, Chris/Sebastian”, when in a way, it is?

The reality is, people are going to thirst over celebrities, regardless of whether or not explicit fanfiction exists. They’re going to post thirst tweets on Twitter. They’re going to talk to friends and strangers online about how hot [insert celebrity name here] is. They’re going to fantasize about dating and having sex with their favourite celebrity. Or, as it is in my case, they’re going to make up stories in their heads about their favourite idols dating and banging each other. People are going to do all of this without ‘getting consent’ from the celebrity. Cracking down upon and shaming writers of RPF isn’t going to change any of that.

To be honest, I’m not sure why people think it is disgusting to imagine sexual scenarios about real people. It is okay and normal to have these kinds of fantasies. I suppose the alternative is to fantasise about having sex with cartoon characters instead? It’s a very binary way of thinking to say that if you imagine/write real people in explicit scenarios, you are immediately sexualising, dehumanising, or objectifying them. There is more to dehumanisation than writing smut about our favourite celebrities. For one thing, you can love someone and appreciate all parts of them, and still want to fuck their brains out. And generally, fanfics come from a place of love—love that is not only sexual in nature.

Is it the sharing aspect inherent to fanfiction? The possibility that a celebrity might stumble upon explicit works about them? The chances are very low, I think, of the k-pop idols I enjoy writing about coming across my English fics. But I also believe in curating your own content, and that applies to celebrities too. Perhaps a celebrity should not go searching for fanfics about themselves. And of course, people should not show celebrities their fanfics, unless invited.

Another argument I hear against (explicit) RPF is, “How would you feel if someone wrote fanfiction about you?” First off, I don’t like this argument because there’s a difference between someone who decides to be a public figure versus someone who decides to remain a regular private citizen. Celebrities should and do know what they’re getting into when they choose their occupation. (This is not to say, “They are celebrities; sexualise them all you want because that’s what they signed up for.” Here, I am only acknowledging that people might have sexual fantasies about celebrities they are attracted to. Presumably, celebrities are cognizant of this.)  

If someone (whose existence I am not even aware of, mind you) decides they want to write explicit fanfiction of me in some tiny corner of the Internet, I wouldn’t care so long as: (1) they don’t shove it into my face, and (2) they don’t harass me and ask invasive questions about my personal life and relationships. It’s not hurting me or negatively affecting my life, so it wouldn’t even register as a blip on my radar. When fanfiction remains within its appropriate spaces, it is largely harmless. 

Now, if a k-pop idol were to ask their fans to stop writing fanfiction about them, would I? Yes, I would. However, I can’t imagine that happening. Judging by the number of ‘sexy’ concepts, fanservice moments, and variety shows such as ‘We Got Married’, I am certain that k-pop idols realise they are the stars of many fantasies—some of which are explicit in nature. Considering the prevalence of shipping in the k-pop industry, I would argue that shipping is subtly encouraged.

It’s sad that so many talented writers are shamed out of fandom, or feel that k-pop cannot be the medium through which they tell their stories, or explore their sexuality, or cope with trauma, or simply have fun. Professional works and Hollywood love their RPF—readers and writers of fanfics should be able to, as well. 

As you said Anon, “clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life” (this is a lovely sentence, by the way). The kind of person who dehumanises another and reduces them to a sexual object will do so some other way, if not via fanfiction. I don’t think the issue of fetishisation can be fixed simply by telling people not to write explicit RPF. In my experience, people who read and write RPF are more respectful and thoughtful about these things than the general public. We’ve all seen the general public say highly sexual things about celebrities in the media and to their faces, or tag celebrities in their thirst tweets. Are these things less invasive than fanfiction? Personally, I don’t think so. And in my opinion, there are more pressing and damaging issues in stan culture than fanfic.

In conclusion, I don’t think there is anything wrong with creating and consuming RPF, both explicit and non-explicit so long as we:

Remember we are writing fiction

Keep RPF within its appropriate space, and

Do not harass celebrities about their personal lives and relationships

RPF is not for everyone. There may be people who enjoy RPF, but draw the line at explicit stories. This is fine. Everyone has their own personal preferences. What is not fine, however, is attacking people for creating things you don’t like. I’m not sure what kind of moral crusade people are on and what they hope to achieve by shaming writers of RPF, explicit or otherwise. Ultimately, fic authors are writing a fantasy. It’s not real; no one is being hurt. I think it’s important for people to curate their own content, and AO3 makes it very easy to filter out explicit works and unwanted tags. 

Maybe this is me trying to justify my own participation in explicit RPF—I don’t know. What I do know is that I love k-pop, and fandom is an important part of my media and entertainment experience. I adore the k-pop idols I write about, and I just want to imagine them being happy and getting lots of love and orgasms. Let a bitch be horny, goddamn… 

Some bonus fun facts!

At the time I am writing this, on AO3:

26.2% of Stray Kids fanfics are rated M or E

26.3% of Seventeen fanfics are rated M or E

29.0% of Merlin fanfics are rated M or E

34.9% of Captain America (Movies) fanfics are rated M or E

40.1% of BTS fanfics are rated M or E ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Coincidentally, I saw this post on Reddit this morning: Can we have a RPF positivity post?

[heli0s-writes]

IV. A Commitment*

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes Summary:  Natasha teaches you how to kiss. Tony gives you an opportunity. A/N: Part 4 of Mystery of Love. . (*) denotes NSFW!!  

At 23, you were struggling to have a conversation about … it.

It was almost three weeks since your moment on Steve’s couch with him and Bucky. Their touches on your skin haunted you day and night, and it made your work at the compound significantly more difficult than you could have ever imagined. It was hard to find clarity under such zealous and watchful eyes, and the distance you continued to keep them at would eventually be thwarted. You had to ask Pepper for an extension on your assignment mid-May before it got too out of hand. She happily obliged, very understanding of your predicament. The deadline was extended indefinitely, but having no schedule threw you further off course.

In an effort to control at least your personal life, you allowed yourself to spend time with Steve and Bucky in small bursts, intent on not repeating another couch-event. They each had very different approaches of being in your presence, you found out. Steve was happy to accompany you to galleries and the store if he was already in town- which he often was whether it be by coincidence or intention.

You took walks with him through the park, had coffee together, read the paper, and laughed at the comic strips. You’d go to bookstores where he’d browse non-fiction and history while you showed him some of your favorite art books, teaching him about famous artists and their vision. Your conversations were light and full of laughter.

Once, he met you at a local bar and you discovered his passion for sports- one you didn’t share but were happy to appreciate. You didn’t even know the championship game was going on that day and in the middle of it it’d become so rambunctious (someone recognized him!) that the two of you had to run out before it could conclude.

 Physically, Steve was rather indulgent of your reservations. He’d hold your hand in private and brush his fingers over your knuckles in public. More than the touches, it was his gaze that sent your blood rushing. He perfected that slow lingering sweep with his eyes. There was no fervent message to be analyzed behind those blue-green gazes—only a simple feeling. And that feeling he held for you was incomprehensible. It swept you away.

It wasn’t like you didn’t want to be physical or intimate because you loved the feel of the pads of his fingers and his callused palms. Or that smooth line of his winning smile, tilting upwards on one side. You constantly thought about those rough edges of Steve Rogers on your body.

It was rather that you were so fearful of crushing all the eggshells under your feet labelled “Steve and Bucky’s Tentative and Healing Friendship”.

Oh, you knew about The Winter Soldier and HYDRA. You’d gotten the quick and dirty version from Steve after your initial meeting with Bucky; the wipes, the assassinations, the complete and utter control they had on him for 70 years. The image of him in ice seared itself into your brain, the thought of them putting him up when they were finished using him killed you.

You weren’t just heartbroken, you were livid. You couldn’t help but take it so personally and you couldn’t quite explain why to Steve as you sobbed uncontrollably in the kitchen that morning except rasping breaths of goddamn it, oh god, Bucky. By the time Bucky returned from his run, your eyes were swollen and pink, bottom lip nearly chewed through.

You buried your face in his chest and whispered that you were happy to have him in your life and nothing else. There couldn’t be anything else yet. He was still raw, and you couldn’t tear him open any more.

 Spending time with Bucky was significantly different, and a much more delicate task than Steve. He was hesitant to go into the city, a choice you understood completely so you never asked. Instead the two of you spent lots of time on separate sides of couches with tea and a book, careful not to sit too close. He’d gladly sit with a movie on while you worked on editing your many files.

After travelling for so long, you wanted to pick up your old hobbies again, so you started to make small meals at the compound. Bucky was hardly a cook by any means, but always seemed to know when you needed an ingredient from the cupboard and before you could fumble to reach for it, he’d have already set it next to your hand.

The conversations were short, and as you expected, he never divulged anything meaningful. After you had the talk with Steve, Bucky often sent you precarious glances, worried you might lash out because of his past. When you carried on as usual, the weight lifted from his shoulders.

Bucky was more physical, to say the least. He tried to respect your boundaries, but it wasn’t unlike him to push them from time to time. Unlike Steve’s tender gazes, Bucky stared intensely and openly. There were many a time when you’d look up from your book to see him on the other side of the sectional, staring straight through the pages and right at your face. His fingers would be tapping on his knee. When you’d finally see it and swallow nervously, he’d smirk and look back to his book.

Or you’d sit on the floor with your laptop open on the coffee table and Bucky would have silently moved from his supposed area on the couch to directly behind you. He’d lean over close, so that his breath would tickle your ear and ask you innocently about the picture you were working on. It never failed to send shivers up your spine and elicit wide, devilish grins from him.

It was his favorite game. It set you on fire.  

And so it was that you attempted to balance your time with both men, as they navigated their own schedules of work, training, and rehabilitation.

You also tried to retain any semblance of your employment to Stark Industries.

You snapped pictures here and there, trying your best to maintain the illusion of your contract. There were some exceptional ones of the interior but photographing the Avengers themselves was challenging. Especially when it came to Bucky. He could sense any time you were in the room and strictly refused to ignore your presence. There were no candids taken of Bucky Barnes; he simply did not allow it. He never stopped staring at you.

At the end of May, you put the assignment on pause and decided instead to focus on the photos from your travels. Pepper kindly put up a room for you so you didn’t have to make the trip to and from the compound, but you were afraid that being in such close(ish) quarters with Steve and Bucky would lead to complications. She was very understanding at your hesitance and careful not to pry but left the offer open if you had any questions. You contemplated asking her, but in the end decided to save your queries for someone less motherly and more straightforward.

 When you turned up at Natasha’s room, she hardly seemed surprised. She had two Irish Mules set on coasters on the small coffee table. You took a sip, licking your lips at the lime and ginger beer; she could really make a drink. It would have been bad to get drunk quickly and spill all your secrets, but there was something about her presence that was tossing out all pretense. You supposed the phrase, “You can’t bullshit a bullshitter” was especially applicable with Natasha.

The first query slipped out before you could catch it.

“Does it hurt?”

The right corner of her lips lifted, but her eyebrows raised in sympathy at your innocent question. It was a valid one, of course, and it was right of you to ask it. Natasha assured you that discomfort is normal at first since you’d never experienced it before- but that they both should be treating you respectfully, kindly, and lovingly. She restated that there was nothing wrong with taking it slow, finding your own pace and easing into it, and doing what you feel is comfortable.

When you told her you’d never kissed anyone before and that Bucky sucking on your finger probably didn’t count, she sputtered up a bit of her cocktail mid-drink. She didn’t specify whether it was because you’d never been kissed or if it was the... other thing.

“I don’t even know how it works. There’s two of them.” You’d been stuck on it all month. You’d have to decide in the end, and sure, maybe Bucky wasn’t jealous when Steve kissed your hand or when you’d go out with him but what if they started fighting about who got to do what with you. It wasn’t like they were each others’ soulmates. You complained to Natasha more freely at the end of your mug.

What if they didn’t like how you looked?! What if you were bad in bed? What if they got bored after seeking the physical aspects? What if that was all that became of your relationship?

She had listened to your rambling briefly but became determined to put a stop to the madness and set down her drink.

“You have to stop being so crazy, those two are closer than you or I can imagine. You might need to be convinced about the validity of being Soulmates, but those old boys do not. They have committed.”

There was that word again, you thought.

“And, if you’re so worried about your first kiss...” A single red brow raised itself high up her forehead, “I can show you. No more worrying about who kissed you first.” Natasha set her copper mug down with a definitive clink.

It might have been the drink that was making you brave, or the desperation of wanting some relief to your constant distress, because you eagerly said yes. Natasha had brushed back loose strands of your hair with her hand and propped herself up on her knees. She hovered over you, letting her locks fall over your face.

“Is this okay?”

You nodded, captivated. You could feel your eyes fluttering as she lowered her lips to yours in a single tranquil movement. Her warm breath pleasantly caressed your mouth as she kissed you. Natasha’s lips were soft and full, velvety with every parting and descent. One hand came to cup your jaw, pulling you closer and deeper into her motions. You didn’t expect the sound your mouths made against each other- the smacking was half disturbing, half arousing.

She had seemed like a good kisser, but it was almost a clinical experience, whether it was because it was a learning moment from a friend, or if it was because you were so concentrated on memorizing Natasha’s actions, that made it not quite enjoyable as the movies tried to portray. There were no string quartets harmonizing in the background or doves flying, only the lax pulse of your heart in your own ears.

When she finally pulled away, you were expectant for another one; you wanted to learn. She cocked her head at your silence.

“How was it?” You had thought about it for a second before answering truthfully, “Noisy...”

Natasha howled with laughter. When she gathered herself enough to speak again, her raspy voice was slightly a little more hoarse than usual.

“Kid,” she gasped, “The noises are the best part, trust me.”

The unexpected statement made your abdomen clench. You vaguely wondered what kind of noises Steve and Bucky might make, but hurriedly squashed them. Linger on that one for too long, and you’d burst.

After another half hour of fielding questions, she finally sent you back to your quarters with a flash-drive in hand, disclosing to you that it was her personal collection of “friendly” pornography- which made your entire body flush crimson. It was for you to watch, explore, fantasize about, and maybe get some ideas before the day arrives. Before opening the door, Natasha called your name sternly.

“Remember when I asked you if it was okay before I kissed you?”

You nodded.

“There is nothing wrong with that. In fact, they should be asking you. Porn does not capture all the real-life shit that happens during sex. There is nothing embarrassing about asking questions, voicing your needs and desires, and talking to each other. You’re not going to be awesome at it the first time. But you’ve got the rest of your life to practice.”

You thanked her sincerely. There was nowhere else that you were going to receive this kind of lesson and you really wanted her to know. Natasha shooed you out of her room, pointing to the flash drive gripped tight in your fist.

“Go rub out some good ones for me, okay?”

With a wink and playful slap on your ass, she promptly kicked you out but not before deftly tucking a flask of whiskey under your arm. You shoved the deviant things as deep into the pocket of your jeans as possible and wandered to the guest room Pepper had set up. You often took naps in there, and it would have been a better idea to go home, but you were strangely eager. Bucky and Steve were in the shooting range this evening, so you hoped they’d be fully distracted with loud gunfire and not sniff you out with 100 gigabytes of porn in your pocket.

 Once safe in the comfort of the room, you tentatively launched a window on your laptop, headphones jacked in, one bud hanging loose. Your door was locked all the way, and you had wiggled the handle thrice just to be safe, satisfied when nothing budged.

 Natasha’s files were categorized into multiple folders and subfolders. You made a mental note to thank her for such thorough and thoughtful placement of the videos, sorted and titled by extremely efficient keywords. She had a deliberate folder of multiple threesome videos, just for you, and you promptly decide to never bring it up any of it. Reading the titles alone made your legs tingle; your mind couldn’t help but automatically fit Steve or Bucky in the fantasy.

You fired up the first video, reaching over to the small nightstand to inhale two fingers of whiskey for good measure. It burned your insides going down but became a relief when it took your mind off the fire in your cheeks at the performance unfolding on your dim screen. Once again, your brain replaced the two male actors with your respective soulmates, and yourself as the woman sitting in the middle of the bed.

Of course you’d masturbated before, you weren’t a nun, for crying out loud; some bodily tension could only be relieved in a certain way. And it just so happened since the Binding, you were in the habit of doing it much more, anyway. It was difficult to spend all day with Bucky’s burning gaze and Steve’s feather light touches and expect yourself to immediately fall asleep...

Your phone lit up as two large hands caress the actress’ shapely thighs.

Tony’s face blinked on the screen. You ignored it, concentrated on thick fingers peeling the flimsy material of a lacy bralette down. Open-mouthed sloppy kisses begin between the woman and the man on the left as the one on the right cups the breast closest to him in a firm hold. You imagined a ghostly touch on your own chest and shuddered. One hand imitated the actions between the woman’s legs: feather-light touches interspersed with solid grips. The tickle creates chills that crawl all over your skin.

Tony face blinked again on your phone.

You fixed your posture against the headboard of your bed and flexed your legs, straightening them for a more relaxed pose. Your palm traced over the slope of your thighs as they dipped into a valley in the middle, slowly you brought your other hand to your chest, following the line of Steve’s Words. Bucky’s eyes flashed in your mind when one of the men catches the woman’s fingers in his mouth in a hard suck. The woman’s free hand and palms the opposite man’s crotch, rubbing slow circles around the tent in his jeans. He sucks in a low hiss of air and groans lightly, a profane word wiggling its way out of his mouth. In your left ear, it sounded like Steve.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice filling the room sent you into shock.

“Mr. Stark is requesting your presence in the living quarters.”

In a panic, you slammed your hands down on the keyboard of your laptop multiple times, silently screaming when the headphone jack falls out and there’s moaning repeatedly being paused and played in the darkness of your room.

“How does he--”

“Mr. Stark had me do a sweep of the rooms to find you.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.!!”

“Mr. Stark does not know what you are watching.”

You grumbled, accepting the interface’s comment. Sometimes it was hard for you to remember that she wasn’t an actual person since she so often responded in very human ways, including predicting your source of embarrassment. You flopped down on the bed, muffling your face in the soft comfort of your pillow, catching the smell of your whiskey-sour breath.

“Please tell Mr. Stark I’ll be coming,”

“That's an interesting choice of words, ma’am.”

Another scream was muffled in the pillow before you trudged your body out of the guest room.

As soon as you stepped foot into the gathering space, a tiny firework was popped in your face, colorful confetti flying from it into the air and scattering itself in your hair. You shrieked, naturally. There were some cheers and whooping from those in the room: Steve, Natasha, and Pepper. Your heart was pounding in response.

“Hey kid! Congrats! I got some news for you.” Tony beamed widely, slapping both hands firmly on your shoulders, “What is that, whiskey? Do I smell whiskey? Good shit, too. What is that? You drinkin’ Yamazaki?”

You cleared your throat and pressed your lips together firmly, hoping Tony would get the message, eye catching Natasha’s cat-like grin in the process. He clucked his tongue before pointing to the wall to your left where an e-mail was being projected. You briefly glanced it over as the room watched on, flicking bits of neon plastic from your head.

The e-mail thread was between Tony and Kristopher Byrne, the former director of the Museum of Modern Art, singing your praises. Your eyebrows raised higher and higher the further down the e-mail chain you went, and eventually it felt like they might fly off your face altogether. Byrne was pushing meeting you, possibly having a dinner together, possibly a position of employment with a local university or being a permanent fixture at one of his private galleries.

There was a choking noise you were vaguely aware of coming out of your mouth- and it wasn’t from excitement.

There was a reason you didn’t pursue a higher degree in the Fine Arts. There was a reason you only gave phone interviews, hardly showed your face, never entered your work in museums, and ran all over the world instead. You hated the attention and the culture of rubbing elbows with the upper crust. Yes, having a secure and stable income is nice- but that was already fulfilled by being employed by Stark Industries, and you never really needed more than that.

“I really appreciate it, Tony,” you began gesturing to the screen, hoping to not offend him, “But you don’t have to do this on my behalf.”

Tony put a hand over the ACDC logo and dimly glowing light on his chest, “I love nepotism as much as the next guy, trust me, but I did not schmooze him, he schmoozed me. He schmoozed me a lot, kid, and it was to get to you. He’s been asking about you for years.”

“Can you stop saying schmooze?” Pepper called, raising her hand primly, “You make it sound so gross, Tony.”

“Look, he just wants to have dinner. With you. And some friends.” Tony shrugged, as if the lift of his shoulder could so easily discard the rest of the statement hanging in the air. You knew that Kristopher Byrne did not just want to have dinner.

“What kind of dinner?” Bucky piped from the background. You turned your head to him, lingering in the back; he must have just come in after a shower. His wet hair was tied into a low knot at the nape of his neck, a few strands hanging loosely. You tried to hide a smile at his protective questioning.

“And what kind of friends?” Steve added, arms now crossed as he sat down on the couch.

Natasha gave a knowing look to Pepper as if to communicate that Tony couldn’t hide his agenda with both Bucky and Steve at his heels. Throwing his hands up he rolled his eyes with a histrionic lament, “Wow. You overprotective geriatrics really suck the fun out of my life, you know that? Great. Cover’s blown, F.R.I.D.A.Y.! Give me the real deal.”

The projection against the wall was hastily replaced with a different e-mail chain, one that very specifically requested a formal show of your most recent work post-travels, as well as a special request for never-before-seen Avengers portraits. You released a loud, disappointed groan, taking two big steps to the wall and jabbing your finger at the mass of text.

“This is why.” You ran your pointer under the phrase “black tie event” and shook your head. “This isn’t my life, Tony. It’s your life.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” You felt set up. His abruptly somber tone meant that he was about to drop some shit on you that would change your perspective.

“This is my life,” Tony began, pausing for effect before taking two fingers and waving it broadly over the room, making sure to catch Bucky and Steve in his radius. “And it’s their life, too. You think Cap’s not obligated to formal events? He’s a national treasure, kid. And Winter Dead-Eyes over there is America’s new Redemption Sob Story.”

Bucky growled, but was quickly silenced by the outline of Steve’s turning profile.

“You’re Bound to them; you can’t wander the world at your whim anymore. This is a golden opportunity dropping into your lap. One black-tie event with Byrne gets your foot in a lot of doors. He’ll make you a permanent faculty member at Tisch in two years if that’s what you want; you’ve got the clout- whether you like it or not.”

The whiskey was making you a little agitated, and it felt like Tony was cornering you into a pocket you weren’t ready to face. These types of decisions required time and deliberation, and twenty minutes ago, you were barely choosing when you were going to have sex in the next week.  

“And if you’re so adamant against nepotism, how do feel being employed by me?”

“Are you saying you continue to employ me because we’re friends?”

“Aren’t we?”

He really did corner you. If you answered no, it would have been too cruel to everyone. If you answered yes, then you’d be a hypocrite, and there would obviously be no reason for you not to take the offer other than the fact that you didn’t want to. Regardless, Tony had a valid point: you couldn’t keep floating. You needed to settle permanently in New York.

You put your face in both hands, feeling the heat rise from your neck.  

Steve stood up from the couch, “That’s enough.” The edge in his voice meant he was serious. He didn’t like seeing you distressed, but you waved him off, eyes still closed.

“I’ll need… time.” You thought your voice might shake, but it didn’t. Your brain was pumping out information that your mouth was glad to blather about, “I need at least a month. I need to work. I need to set up a studio space, I need equipment, need to find my printing guy… Where are we hanging them?” When your eyes opened, Pepper had her hands clasped together over her chest and Natasha gave you two thumbs up. Steve and Bucky, on the other hand, looked concerned.

Tony was grinning like a child in a candy store.

“Leave all of that to me, kid. Date’s set. Last Saturday in June, we’re doing it. Mazel tov! I love a good black-tie event, especially if I’m throwing it.”

-

You went home that night and slammed yourself into bed, tossing and turning for what seemed like hours. Your stomach was churning wrathfully, already expectant of the party. Everything felt like it was falling apart again. You had just barely come to the physical terms of having soulmates, taking small steps to ensure that you were treating them fairly and meeting their needs, yet it seemed like once again, the reality of being Bound was eclipsing your independence.

Steve’s words echoed in your head. It was a commitment. You needed to stay in New York and commit to him. You needed to commit to Bucky.

You picked up the phone when it vibrated and lit up with Steve’s face. A concerned murmur of your name passed through the receiver.

“Hey,” You replied, face pressed into your pillow.

“You okay? You left in a hurry.” He sounded relieved to hear your voice.

“I’ve got a lot on mind, I think.”

In the background was Bucky’s distinct mumble of “What’s she doin’?”

“Did ya get that?” Steve laughed, “Buck’s on edge.”

You shuffled yourself around the bed and snuggled deeper down, imagining the crinkle on Bucky’s forehead and matching crease of Steve’s eyes as he smiled. You suddenly missed them. There was something about the image of them sitting together purposely, talking to you, concerned about you, that opened the floodgates.

You let go.

Steve listened generously as you expressed your hesitations about presenting your work to Kristopher Byrne or any other elite art critic or connoisseur. The thing you dreaded most about art school was the jargon of “artspeak”, the constant performance of socializing with the right people in the right way to get an opportunity. After your solo exhibit of the Soulmate Series, you were so exhausted and disenchanted by the questions and feeling the need to defend yourself that you refused to enter any more exhibitions. It was why you chose to travel instead of pursuing a Masters or making your mark in New York.

Interviews were strictly phone-only for independent magazines or social media websites and you never showed your face. You didn’t want any attention that was not on your work, which was why you were so glad that Pepper was not only a great resume opportunity, but that she was extremely professional. The photos you took of the Avengers were posted for the public relations needs and you were credited only by name.  

“I just want to be a photographer,” you said, “I want to make images and talk about them in way that is digestible for ordinary people. I think photo is a great medium for that because it is so commonplace. Why is necessary to then jumble it all up with pretentious terminology? I want to take photos that are meaningful but even your grandmother could enjoy.”

Steve laughed.

“Okay, maybe not yours, specifically,” You chucked, “But you know what I mean. Photography is ubiquitous, I just so happen to have had also an education and know the theory and mechanics. And I’m lucky enough to work with you guys. But I’m not them. I don’t want to sell a picture for thirty-thousand dollars and have it put up in some guy’s house and never shown again.”

“Give ‘em hell!” Bucky’s voice rang in the background. You were surprised he was still there, listening. It made you happy that he was.

Steve paused, “I think you can do both.”

You sighed. He didn’t understand.

“No, no, listen to me. You can fight it, but you’ll need to be a part of it. You can’t change anything about the system if you’re running from the system. As much as you hate elitist jargon, you know it, and you can participate in it.”

Your brow furrowed, but Steve went on, “Get the faculty position, exhibit in galleries, gain that platform and then you make changes on that platform. Even if you just teach- imagine having 100 students a year that you can pass this to. What were the students like in your college classes?”

“Uppity.” You admitted. “We took such dumb photos and then would critique them in such meaningless ways. Sometimes a sink is just a sink. Sometimes it’s not, but when it is, it really is."

Steve laughed again; the example was lost on him. “Okay. Now what if your professors felt the same way you did?”

“We’d probably hate each other less and experiment more without second guessing ourselves.”

“Don’t you think you want to do that for other students, sweetheart? Even if it means that you’re in the thick of it yourself?” A smile was slowly forming on your face. It only made sense that Steve Rogers was such a revolutionary. It really was such good advice.

“Buck’s right, sweetheart. Go give ‘em hell.” In the background was a satisfied huff and a “Damn right!” for good measure.

“Anything else on your mind?” Steve quietly asked after a moment had passed between you, as if he’d forgotten his friend in the room, highly alert and intently listening, “Anything ‘bout us?”

You breathed a deep sigh, careful not to blow into the phone as you thought about your next words carefully. The anxieties for the show colluded with your anxieties for your future here. Steve knew that; he was only asking to be polite. “Mmm… It’ll keep me close,” You murmured, “That’s good, right?”

“I can’t decide that for you, sweetheart. That’s up to you.” There was a pause, the sound of something hitting the wall softly like a pillow, some fuzzy scratches telling you the phone was moving around, and Bucky with an irritated reprimand: “Wrong answer, punk!”

You laughed mirthfully, feeling your worries rolling off your body as you listened to Steve and Bucky quarrelling on the other end. It felt so natural that you couldn’t help but think maybe this was another good step in the right direction.

More and more each day you could imagine yourself having morning coffee with Steve, watching a movie with Bucky, cooking together, eating dinner, working side by side at the compound. Maybe you didn’t have to settle for brief fifteen-minute walks in the park, and maybe one day Bucky could talk to you about his demons. The three of you could exist together, as you were intended to.

At 23, you made up your mind to stay in New York with Steve and Bucky.

Next Chapter

[kayteewritessteve]

Carefree

Description: Steve is stressed out and fed up, and finds himself being slightly rude with a complete stranger.

Masterlist HERE.

Word Count: 5,470 ish.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: G

Warnings: None. Minus an awkward Steve. And maybe a cuss word or two, can’t remember. Oh, and maybe a slight Endgame spoiler, if you squint really hard.

Requested: Yes, from the lovely @casuallydarktiger ♥️♥️♥️ Thank you for another amazing Marvel O/S request!! You’re keeping me busy little one and I love it!!

A/N: This is an AU set in the ‘everyone lives happily in the tower’ world. But anywho, hope you enjoy!!

Stress. A simple 6 letter word that seems so small, so insignificant, so unassuming at first, when taken out of context. But when you really think about it, truly put thought into it and dig just a little deeper under the surface, it is actually a much, much larger word then it originally appears.

Take the ‘Iceberg Theory’ for example. As with an iceberg, our eyes can only see what lies above the surface, therefore allowing us to believe that that’s all that exists. But under the surface, well, that’s where the majority of its mass is actually located. Now, most of us have probably heard of this theory at some point in our lives. And know that it’s what’s hidden below, or inside, that truly makes up whichever thing it is that we are referring to. The parts we can’t see, the parts we can just pretend don’t actually exist. But deep, deep down, we know that they’re there. Just like the mass of an iceberg, quietly enduring without any help from us.

However, that’s where they differ. Stress may not always be voluntary, but the majority of the time it is brought on, or made worse, by our own doings. As we sit and worry, or overthink, or blame ourselves for the littles things. The things that really don’t matter in the grand scheme but yet, we fixate endlessly on them.

It’s a snowball effect, really. Once you start going down that proverbial rabbit hole, it’s hard to pull yourself out again. And once you allow it to worm into your mind, it usually sets up shop and decides to stay for a while. Bringing along with it a lengthy list of emotional, physical, cognitive and behavioural symptoms, as well. You know, just to make it that much more enjoyable for us all—not.

So why are we talking about stress, you ask? Well probably because right now, at this exact second, Steven Grant Rogers is a walking embodiment of the word. The very definition of stressed; which is experiencing mental or emotional strain, or tension.

Now normally, Steve’s stress levels are usually pretty high, higher than most that is. What with waking up 70 years in the future, after he thought he’d given his life for his country. Given his life to end the war. Only to then be pulled from the ice, and thrusted into a world he didn’t know. One he didn’t even recognize. And one that was still very much at war. The exact same war he believed he’d ended, 70 years ago, with his sacrifice. Yeah, that alone was enough to cause his stress to skyrocket, and stay there.

But then you add learning that aliens did, in fact, exist. As he very much had to fight against them in the streets of his own city.

Then, learning that Norse Gods were also real, and that they weren’t the only things out there in the universe. No, there is actually a vast number of beings living out there, beyond the stars. So yeah, that can really make a man feel small in comparison. And cause some very unwanted stress.

But oh, we aren’t done just yet. There was also that little fact that he’d learned about his best friend, damn near his brother. The one where it turns out that he’d actually lived through the fall, and had been alive all these years, under the control of the very organization Steve believed he had ended. And that Bucky had been doing their dirty work all along. Brainwashed and controlled. Getting Bucky back wasn’t easy, but they’d managed to do it and break the hold Hydra had on him. So that’s a plus at least.

Oh, and let’s also not forgot about the robots. Yeah, not the cute little ones used in factories or in homes. But the ones that thought for themselves, and grew smarter and stronger with the knowledge that they acquired. The ones that tried to wipe out the Avengers and take over the world. Oh yeah, that was stressful as hell. To say the least.

However, it’s what came after the robots that really stressed Steve out. The Accords. The war between the Avengers. Having to pick a side regardless of who you’d be going up against. Colleagues, friends, family. And then the whole ‘being on the run for years’ thing. And that was all before finally having to fight a mad titan—which turns out also exists, go figure.

And even though they had managed to beat Thanos, eventually. It still didn’t really relieve any of Steve’s stress. Because he knew it was only a matter of time before something else big happened. Some other threat to the world would arise, and forced him to once again put on his suit and risk his life for everyone else’s.

We also have to take into account his regular every day stress. His stress over missions. Over the people he knows, and loves, being hurt or worse. And that’s just the beginning, we aren’t even going to speak on what his PTSD adds to his stress levels, but you can imagine that it doesn’t help matters, at all.

He had gotten somewhat used to it all though, learned to live with it at least. But it seemed every day something new was added to the lengthy list of things to worry about. Today’s addition? How about Steve being informed that mandatory press releases would become a new thing in his life, and that they were to start the following day.

The Accords had been thrown out after Thanos’ attack, but the Avengers now had to answer to the public in new ways. They’d start holding press releases of their own to keep the world informed, and to help the world accept them again. To trust them again.

Steve wasn’t a fan of the limelight, he hadn’t ever been, really. Especially not back when he was the face of the US Army, doing shows all over to help recruit men and sell bonds. That wasn’t a good time in Steve's life. He’d signed up to help fight the war, not to parade around on a stage in a tight outfit, punching fake Nazi’s and making an ass of himself.

Steve sighed and glanced around the busy street he was currently walking along, yanking his ball cap down lower over his face as he did. He caught a glimpse of a coffee shop sign up ahead, one he’d never been to before and figured another cup of coffee wouldn’t do any harm. It’s not like it would stress him out anymore then he already was. And he knew it was going to be a long restless night for him, yet again, so he might as well just stay up. Drink lots of coffee and hang in the gym, making some poor punching bag suffer for his stress.

He pushed open the door and found the shop pretty empty. Aside from a few people at various tables, with books or laptops open. Lost in their own worlds and not paying any attention to the people around them. Which was a huge relief for him.

He made his way up to the counter and glanced up at the massive black chalkboard hanging on the back wall. There were a bunch of weirdly named drinks that he had no clue what they were. But before he could put anymore thought into that, a voice broke through his mind.

“See anything you like?” A feminine voice asked, and he looked down to see a small woman, with her neck twisted as she glanced up at the board with him.

“Ah, yeah. I’ll just have a coffee. Black.” He paused, “I can just get that, right?”

She giggled and turned to face him, “of course, what size can I get cha?”

“Oh, uh, a large?” He asked, hesitantly. Why ordering a simple coffee now a days was so difficult, Steve would never understand.

She just smiled sweetly and nodded, “alright, large it is, and is that to go?”

“Yes, please,” he gave a quick nod.

“Perfect, that’ll be $2.10.”

He quickly patted himself down to search for his change, pulling out his keys and a few other random things as he did. Placing them down on the counter then continuing to search. Finally he found his money, paid her, then collected up all his things and tucked them back away in his various pockets.

She smiled and gave him his change then grabbed a large to-go cup from next to the till and spun around to start making his drink, “one large black coffee, coming right up.”

Steve moved off to the side, and stood under the ‘Pick Up’ sign to wait for his drink. A few moments later she came over and handed him his drink, giant smile still on her face, “here you go, sir.”

“Thanks,” he nodded and then headed for the door. He figured it was time to head back to the tower, he’d been out all day and even with his disguise people had recognized him. Which he figured wasn’t hard, as he was rather large and sort of stood out like a sore thumb.

But all it would take is one person recognizing him, and then he’d be stuck in the same stop for hours. As once someone got a photo with him, others would then ask. It was like a domino effect, a never ending line up of fans. All asking for an autograph, a photo, or just his time.

Normally he was okay with it, normally it didn’t bother him that much. Even though he hadn’t exactly signed up for the fame. Then after the ice he’d started out anonymous, wearing a mask, but that didn’t last long. Eventually the mask was taken out of his ensemble, and the exhibit at the Smithsonian was opened, and then everyone and their dog knew who he was. Gone were the days of his anonymity.

But today, today he just wanted to be left alone. They’d all get a piece of him tomorrow, in the stupid forced press conference. The least they could do is let him have this one day to himself—Though he knew the second he felt a hand on his bicep, urging him to turn around, that that original hope was clearly asking too much.

“Sir,” the voice, he assumed was attached to the hand currently on him, spoke from behind him.

He halted his steps, hoping to brush this person off, gently but quickly, as to not draw too much attention to himself. He just wanted to be left alone.

“Look, I apologize, but I’m in a real hurry here and don’t have the time for this right now,” he said curtly. And he honestly didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so rude, but he was frustrated and just all together done with being out in public. He finally spun to face the intruding fan, “I can sign a quick autograph if you’d like, but I really have to,” his words trailed off as he took in the woman—Or rather, the super confused expression now plastered all over her face—the same woman who had just made the coffee that was currently in his hand.

“Ah,” she furrowed her brows, “I don’t want an autograph, I just wanted to give you your keys.” She held out her hand, his very distinct set of keys sitting in the middle of her palm, “you forgot them on my counter.”

“Oh, ah,” he rubbed the back of his neck, feeling like a complete ass now, then took the offered key chain. “Sorry about that, it’s just been a rough day,” he paused, then sighed, “which isn’t a very good excuse to be rude.”

“It’s fine,” she said tersely, with a clipped edge to her voice, a polar opposite tone to the one she’d used when he’d ordered his drink. “Sorry to have bothered you. Just figured you’d need those,” she nodded with her head towards his keys, then abruptly turned around and headed back towards the coffee shop, without another word. Leaving Steve standing in the middle of the busy sidewalk, keys and coffee in hand, feeling like the biggest dick in the world. Probably because at this moment, that’s exactly what he was.

“Darn it,” he sighed then tucked his stupid keys back into his pocket, before shaking his head and mumbling, “way to go, Rogers.”

With a final glance at the direction she’d just gone, but no longer seeing her, he pulled his ball cap down lower on his face once again then turned and headed back to the tower. Feeling like absolute crap the whole way there.

But even once he reached the tower, he still felt horrible for being so short with her. All she’d wanted to do was return the keys he had left behind. And then he had to go and get too big for his own britches. Assuming everyone just wanted something from him due to his super hero persona.

The whole night he was fixated on their interaction. He’d even talked to Bucky about it, the aforementioned had laughed and told him his ‘celebrity status was clearly going to his head.’ Which, didn’t help, at all. But then Buck told him to just forget about it, that things happened and that she probably didn’t even care that much.

However, he joked about keeping an eye out for any news articles about ‘The Steve Rogers, America’s golden boy, and Captain America himself’ being rude to the public; to his fans—Which again, didn’t freaking help. Nor did it ease any of Steve’s stress over the whole thing. It added to it, actually.

He spent the rest of the evening, and following morning, beating the crap out of 5 punching bags. Knowing Tony would have something to say about that, but he’d deal with those consequences later. He had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

The early morning press conference went better then Steve had thought it would. Tony and Pepper handled most of the questions. Leaving Steve and the others to just basically sit there, looking pretty and answering the odd ones that came their way. He did end up having a few more then the others, being that he was the Captain, but they were all pretty simple questions. Ones he knew the answers to, ones he’d been briefed on before hand. Though the odd praising comment from the reporters had flustered him, and reminded him that the public did, in fact, adore him. And then in turn that had reminded him that he’d been a total ass to that poor woman. And that he had to make it up to her in some way. Somehow. He just needed to.

So that’s how he found himself, pushing open the door to the little coffee shop again, and hearing the jingle of the bells above the door, as he did. Hoping that she’d be working today, so he could actually apologize and make amends.

And as his eyes scanned the shop and landed on a vaguely familiar figure behind the counter, making someone's order, he sighed and got into the line. It was a little busier in the shop today, but not by much. There was a few tables taken up again, just like the day before. And a few people in line ahead of him, which was different from the day before. But he just patiently waited for his turn.

When that finally came, he walked up to the till and as her eyes landed on his face, her smile faltered just slightly, before she corrected it and beamed up at him. To anyone else, anyone other then Steve with his super serum, the falter would have gone unnoticed. But to him, with his enhanced eyesight, he saw it in damn near slow motion.

“Large black coffee to go?” She asked, quickly. And he realized that she did, in fact, remember him. And obviously their interaction from the day before.

“Ah, yeah,” he paused then glanced around. “Actually no, I’ll take a mug this time,” he said as he looked back down at her again.

“Okay,” she nodded, “that’ll be $2.10 again.”

He had the money ready this time, not wanting to chance leaving any more of his belongings behind. He paid her and received his change and then she spun around to make his drink.

He glanced behind himself and noticed there was no one else in line now, so he just continued to stand there. Rubbing the back of his neck, awkwardly, as he tried to figure out what to actually say to her. He’d had it all worked out in his mind earlier, but being here now made what he’d come up with sound stupid.

She placed his drink on the counter, with a quick, “here you are,” and was just about to turn away from him when he spoke up.

“I ah,” he cleared his throat and she paused, turning back at him, with a confused frown on her face. He tried not to let that tongue tie him. “I just wanted to apologize—For yesterday, I mean. It wasn’t acceptable for me to be so short with you. So for that I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she smiled sweetly up at him, “we all have hard days.”

“That doesn’t excuse being rude.”

“It doesn’t, but I get it,” she handed him his mug of coffee, “apology accepted.”

He stood there for a moment just looking at her, this woman who didn’t know him personally but so easily forgave him. So easily calmed his raging mind with two simple words. He had been so nervous about what she was going to say. He’d played out hundreds of outcomes for this moment in his mind, all throughout the night. But her just accepting the apology so quickly, so effortlessly, shocked him. That was not one of the scenarios his mind had come up with. He quickly shook his head, realizing he was still just standing there, silently staring at her. “Thank you for that,” he said earnestly then raised his mug, “and for this.”

“You’re welcome.”

He wandered over to a table near one of the front windows, setting his coffee on top and removing his jacket then sitting down. He had his messenger bag with him, as he took it everywhere, and pulled out his sketchbook and pencils. Here was as good a place as any to draw.

He spent the next half an hour enjoying his coffee, people watching, and drawing the view from the window. Or at least that’s what he’d claim he was drawing, if anyone asked. Really though, he had been secretly drawing the barista. Yeah, that may be a little creepy, but he did plan on giving her the picture. One day. Maybe.

“That’s beautiful,” a soft voice whispered above him and he turned to look up, seeing said barista gazing at his picture of her. After a moment her eyes snapped over to his and she smiled brightly at him.

“I was planning to give it to you, as a peace offering of sorts,” he shrugged and turned to look down at his drawing again. “When it’s finished.”

“Do you mind if I sit?”

“No, not at all,” he gestured to the chair beside him.

She sat down, and then put a fresh cup of coffee down in front of him, “figured you could use a refill,” she smiled at him then gestured to the sketchbook, “do you mind?”

He shook his head, “of course not,” then he handed the sketchbook over to her.

She looked it over carefully, as if to not miss a single detail, “I’ve never had someone draw me before.” She glanced up at him, “you’re very talented. Are you an artist by trade?”

He furrowed his brows, confused, but then a thought ran through his mind. Does she not know? “Uh, no. I’m not. I just draw in my free time.”

“Well, you should be,” she nodded once, as if to say her words were the truest thing she’d ever said. Then after another once over she handed back his sketchbook and smiled. “Thank you for showing it to me.”

She went to get up from the seat but just as she stood fully upright, he realized he wasn’t entirely ready for her to walk away just yet. “You can stay if you’d like,” he offered, then glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one was waiting to be served. “If you won’t get in trouble, that is.”

She grinned and it was cheeky as hell, which was surprisingly different from the smiles he had seen her wear so far. But he liked it even more for that exact reason. “I don’t think the boss will mind too much, and if she does then I’ll just remind her that I’m the boss.”

“Oh,” he laughed, “you own the shop?”

She nodded quickly, “that I do. The perks of being the owner means I can take my breaks whenever I want.” She giggled then glanced around the shop, probably making sure no one was in need of assistance, then she sat back down in the seat. “If this isn’t too forward of me to ask, if you aren’t an artist then what do you do for a day job?”

He stared down at his drawing and scratched the back of his neck, nervously. Does he tell her the full truth and hope she doesn’t treat him any differently? Or does he tell her a half truth and continue on like he’s a normal guy? His eyes drifted up to hers and locked on. And he realized he’d have to be honest with her. He didn’t want to deceive her in any way.

“I’m ah,” he sat up a little straighter and extended his hand to her, “I’m Steve Rogers.”

She stared at him for a moment and then her eyes widened for just a second, before she quickly corrected it and a blush took over her cheeks. “Oh god, how did I not figure that out,” she mumbled, he assumed mainly to herself, though his super serum hearing didn’t miss it. He glanced back down at his drawing again, waiting for whatever reaction she was about to have. And then she spoke up, this time to him, “well, you offering me an autograph makes way more sense now,” she laughed, awkwardly.

“Yeah,” he laughed awkwardly with her and drummed his fingers on the table, “I apologize again for that.”

She waved it off, “don’t even worry about it. I understand even more now. It can’t be easy to deal with the public all the time.” She frowned slightly, “I can’t imagine just how difficult it is to go anywhere unnoticed.”

“It’s hard sometimes, for sure,” he nodded, “but I’m getting used to it, slowly.”

“That’s good,” she smiled, “and thank you—ya know, for keeping us all safe.”

He smiled—and blushed—not like he could have prevented either, even if he’d tried, “no thanks needed, it’s kind of my job.”

“Well still, thank you,” she said sincerely. Then the bells above the door sounded and she glanced over her shoulder to see a customer entering the shop and stood up, “I better go tend to them, but enjoy your coffee Steve,” she smiled and went to walk away but then he realized something.

“I’m sorry, I totally didn’t even ask you for your name.”

She stuck her hand out, “Y/N.”

“Y/N,” he said back, tasting the name in his mouth as he shook her offered hand, “it was really nice meeting you.”

“Same to you,” she winked then laughed and walked away to help the patron. Steve turned to look over his shoulder, watching as she headed towards the counter then smiled and turned back to his sketchbook. He was even more determined to finish this drawing now.

After an hour of sitting at the same table, drawing and drinking coffee, he got a call from Tony. Something about testing out a new feature for his suit, and needing Steve to come try it on. He packed up his stuff, returned the mug to the counter, gave her the drawing and then with a quick goodbye he exited the coffee house. Adjusting his ball cap and heading back to the tower.

Over the next few weeks he’d return to that little shop anytime he had a chance. Sometimes, when the shop was dead, Y/N would sit with him and they’d just talk about anything and everything. She treated him like an old friend. Like one that wasn’t a famous superhero from the 40’s. She was a breath of fresh air for him, someone who saw him for him. Steve. Instead of the Captain. The legend. And he loved that.

A few times Bucky would tag along on his visits to the shop, wanting to meet the woman who got Steve out of his own head and put a smile on his face. Steve was reluctant at first, but finally caved and let him tag along, knowing Buck would get fed up eventually and just go there on his own. And that wasn’t something Steve wanted. At all. But it turned out his fears for them meeting had been entirely misplaced, Y/N and Bucky hit it off instantly. So well that Buck would occasionally go get coffee on his own, when Steve was off on a mission or busy.

Word spread quickly throughout the tower of the little coffee house that the super soldiers loved. So eventually damn near every Avenger had gone there at one point or another. Clint and Tony almost going there more then Steve now. Y/N didn’t mind one bit, she treated them all just like normal people. Never once fangirling over anyone—Well, she did slightly fangirl over Nat on her first visit, but she had mentioned in passing to Steve that she had a lot of respect for the spy. For everything she stood for and had accomplished in her life. But who wouldn’t respect Nat for how far she’d come.

The more Steve visited, the fonder he grew for Y/N. She was amazing inside and out, even a blind person would have been able to see that. And as his feelings grew for her, he found that just being around her eased his worried mind and made all the stress just fall off him. Like a snake shedding it’s skin. He felt like a whole new man in her company. A feeling he desperately didn’t want to give up.

So after weeks of Bucky, Sam, Nat and Tony harassing him about asking her out, he finally caved and agreed to do it.

He pushed open the door to her shop, the bells he’d become so used to hearing, echoing around the room. To say he was nervous and stressed out about how this would go, was an understatement. He was freaking out. This was a whole new version of stressed that he’s barely ever felt before. Putting your heart on the line isn’t easy. Even for an 100 year old super soldier.

He looked up towards the till and saw just as Y/N turned to look at who was entering the shop. Upon seeing him a giant smile broke out across her face, every one of her features lighting up and accentuating the smile even more. “Steve!” She said happily as she turned back around and started to make his tried and true large black coffee.

“Hey Y/N,” he said as he reached the counter, his nerves skyrocketing the closer he got to her, “how’s the day been?”

“Good, slow,” she turned to glance over her shoulder at him, “staying or going?”

“Staying.”

“Excellent,” she nodded and turned to finish making his drink. And as her back was turned Steve but a few bucks into her tip jar.

After she’d found out who she was, she refused to allow him to pay for any of his coffees. Saying it was her thank you for all he’s done and will do for the world. So instead he’d put money in her tip jar, refusing to not pay for his drink but being at a stubborn stalemate with her. Turns out she rivalled him in the stubborn department, if that was even possible. But she wasn’t a fan of the tip thing. At all.

“Darn it Steven!” She spun around to narrow her eyes at him, “we talked about this. It’s not on the house if you just pay in the tip jar!” She picked up the jar and looked into it, “how much did you put in this time!? I’m going to force you to take it back right now.”

Steve just smirked and shrugged, refusing to tell her anything.

She glared at him then sighed and lowered the jar, putting it back on the counter, mumbling playfully, “you are so frustrating sometimes.” Then she laughed and handed him his drink, “here, and just so you know, I’m going to hide that darn jar next time you come in.”

“That won’t stop me,” he smiled and accepted the coffee, “and thanks.” Then he just stood there, awkwardly. He knew he should just ask her, the worst she could say is no. But he wasn’t ready for the rejection just yet. He just wanted to live in this moment for a second longer, the moment where there was a possibility that she’d say yes. That she’d accept his date invite and that would maybe be the start of something special. Something just for them. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, silently, but the slight frown forming on her face told him it was probably way too long of a time.

“Steve?” She said quietly, then continued cautiously, “are you okay? Did—did something happen?”

He shook his head, “no, no. Everything is okay. I just ah,” he glanced down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck, “I just wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay,” she said slowly, the nerves in her voice noticeable, “what is it?”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers and he took a second just to steady his rapidly beating heart, “I was wondering, if you’d maybe like to, I duno,” he shrugged, “go out to dinner with me one day—Maybe this week?”

The frown dropped off her face, but wasn’t replaced by anything. Her expression blank and unreadable for a second before she softly asked, “like,” she cleared her throat, “as in, like a date?”

“Yeah, like a date,” he nodded then added quietly, “that is, if you’d like it to be one.”

He was just about to beg the floor to open up and swallow him whole, that is, until a glorious smile appeared on her beautiful face, and relief flooded through him when he heard her words.

“I’d love that.”

“You would?”

“I would,” she confirmed.

“Oh, okay, great,” he said quickly, “ah, which day are you free then?”

“Tomorrow? I get off at 5:30, if you wanted to meet me here?”

And just like Classic Steve timing, his phone rang and he smiled apologetically at her as he pulled it out and saw Tony’s name on the screen. She nodded, letting him know she understood that he needed to answer it. He stepped away from the counter and exchanged a quick few quiet words with Tony, then hung up and headed back over to her. “Turns out I can’t stay, Tony needs my help with something but tomorrow at 5:30 is perfect,” he smiled.

“I figured if Tony was calling that you’d have to leave, so I put your coffee in a different cup.” She handed him a coffee in a to-go cup, “and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” he took the cup, “and see ya tomorrow,” he said happily as he turned around and exited the shop, heading back to the tower. He’d done it. He’d actually done it. And she had accepted. He was on cloud 9 and never wanted to come back down. He knew the goofy smile on his face would be hard to wipe off, even with Tony’s incoming antics. And to think that all of this came about because he’d forgotten his keys on her counter.

On that thought he turned his head to glance back through the window into her shop. And caught the tail end of her doing a silly little happy dance behind the counter and that only made him smile even more. She was clearly just as excited about this date as he was. And that realization alone made his heart skip a beat, and every worry in his head just vanish into thin air.

And in this exact moment Steven Grant Rogers was the furthest anyone could be from stressed out—the polar opposite of the word actually. For the first time, in a long time, he was truly and completely Carefree.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Using my If Only You Knew tag list, hopefully you all don’t mind!! ♥️♥️♥️

@hopefulmoonobject @harlequinash @itsstillnotwhatyouthink @tessvillegas @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @imdiegohargreeves @zombiepotterfour @mu-mu-rs @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @badassbeckettswan @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger

[marvelanddcsmut]

Steve Rogers A-Z Headcanon

Author’s Note: First and foremost, I hope you all enjoy this. Second, I’ve decided to focus more on writing for the time being. I will still post imagines, and this isn't forever. I just feel like I need a change and I’m sick of having to go through my blog and appeal posts. I think some of the gifs where the guys are shirtless confuse the algorithm. Cause female presenting nipples and all that shit. 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Steve is very physical after sex. He cares about you and wants to be near you. Steve loves when he has his arms around your upper arms, and you wrap your arms around his waist. Steve has PTSD, so after sex, when both of your minds are blank, Steve’s mind tends to wander towards what he saw during the War. Being near you helps ease his mind.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Steve isn’t really a superficial person. Had Steve not taken the super soldier serum, he would never be as physically fit as he is now.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

Steve is traditional, and he prefers to cum inside you. However, if you and Steve decide to get kinky, he’ll cum on your chest or ass.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Steve loves to be called ‘Captain’ in bed. It turns him on to here you call him ‘Captain’ and do whatever he asks.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Steve had no experience in the 40s. He was always busy either touring or actually punching Nazis. Despite Steve not having copious amounts of experience, he is very good at sex. He’s a fast learner. It doesn’t take Steve long to figure out what makes you go crazy.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Steve enjoys variations of missionary. He enjoys being able to look you in the eyes and watch you fall apart. Steve also loves being able to pin your arms into the bed.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Steve tends to be more serious when you two are having sex. Occasionally if you both are drunk, the sex is more giggly.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Steve trims, but that’s about it.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Whether or not Steve is romantic depends on the type of sex you two are having. On the days when you two are off, you’ll have lazy, lovey, morning sex. Steve will pepper your face with kisses, and nuzzle his nose into your hair. Steve will whisper sweet nothings into your ear in his raspy morning voice. Steve is a completely different person when it comes to post mission sex. Whenever Steve is on his way back from a mission, he’ll send you text telling you to be in his room waiting for him. Steve will enter your room, his blue eyes are cloudy with lust. Steve will pin your wrists into the mattress, as he thrusts into you. He’ll bite and suck on your neck, leaving hickies all over, marking you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Steve usually doesn’t masturbate unless he is on an extended mission. Usually when Steve is horny, you can tell, and you’ll initiate sex.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Steve has a captain kink. He loves when you’re submissive and you say, “Yes Captain”.  Steve also has an overstimulation kink. He loves how you go through different stages. At first the orgasms are wonderful, then it’s too much. Steve will assure you that you can handle it. He’ll say, “Come one baby girl, you can handle one more.” The last stage is when you’ve cum so much that you’re basically a doll.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Steve likes the privacy of having sex with you in your bedroom. Steve enjoys being able to take his time with you.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

After a long mission, Steve almost always wants to have sex.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Since waking up from being on ice, Steve has been pretty open to trying different things. While he doesn’t mind spanking you, he won’t smack your face. He also is hesitant about calling you names. He’ll call you a naughty girl instead of a little slut.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Steve likes giving just as much as he likes receiving. He’s very good at eating you out. Steve knows when to suck, when to use fingers, when to use his tongue, and when to stop before you go over the edge. Sometimes he’ll eat you out and make you cum, but he loves seeing you desperate and begging. When you give Steve a blowjob, he’ll always a gentle man. Steve never pushes your head down or thrusts into your mouth. He also never pressures you into reciprocating. He’s always appreciative.  

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

In the beginning, the sex was more slow and sensual. Steve would slowly thrust into you and essentially worship you. As time went on, you guys would experiment more, which led to rougher sex. It’s usually a toss up between slower and more sensual sex, and rougher, sloppier sex. Steve does both amazingly.  

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

You guys have tried it a few times, but Steve definitely prefers proper sex. Steve enjoys taking his time with you and really enjoying the moment.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Steve enjoys experimenting, but he’s still cautious. Being Captain America means he has a reputation to protect, so he’s extremely cautious when it comes to anything public. Even PDA is something Steve is careful with.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

The Super Soldier Serum did a lot, including giving Steve an inhuman level of stamina. He can goes 3 rounds with ease. When you guys finish, it’s usually because you can’t handle anymore. His high stamina and overstimulation kink make for some very fun and intense sex.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Steve doesn’t have any crazy toys. You guys have a few pairs of handcuffs, some rope, and a vibrator or two. Steve grew up in the 40s, so he’s used to using his hands. You guys have tried a lot of different toys though, but most you don’t use.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

When Steve comes back from a mission, there is no teasing whatsoever. Sex is the first thing that you two will do when he gets back. Screw unpacking or mission reports. When Steve has been home and with you for a few days, that’s when he starts to tease.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Steve tends to talk more than moan when you two are having sex. He’ll tell you how good you are when you suck him off, say how tight you feel, or how amazing you taste.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Steve has nightmares and while they are not where near as bad as Bucky’s, they are still pretty bad. The nightmares vary from things that have happened to him to fears of what might happen to you. He’ll often have nightmares about losing Bucky(again) or you. Steve often sleeps holding you, so when he has a nightmare, you usually wake up. You can feel him tense up and start to breathe heavy.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

The serum made everything bigger. Steve is easily 8 inches and a little bit girthy.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Steve’s sex drive is a bit above average. If you guys have a free night, he’s fine with sex, but he doesn’t mind cuddling either.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

About 75% of the time, you’re asleep before him. It makes him feel better knowing that you’re safe and asleep before he goes to be. Occasionally he’ll fall asleep before you, and it’s wonderful. He’s so peaceful and adorable when he’s sleeping.

[averagemarvelbitch]

PROMPT LIST CHALLENGE

Challenging myself to write 50 short stories based on a prompts list.

1. “We’re not just friends and you know it”.

Alternate Universe / Stony

Warning: There is a scene where someone exposes someone else’s sexuality and I tried to make it clear that’s NEVER okay. I hope I succeeded.

Tony just couldn’t understand. He tried, God knows he tried, but he couldn’t seem to grasp why Steve would want to keep this, them, a secret.

They had been together for two years now. Tony remembered the day they met like it was yesterday. Rhodey got tired of his roommates shenanigans ― Tony had been in a “inventing spree” for three days, which meant little food, smelly clothes and very deep dark circles under his eyes ― and decided enough was enough. He took Tony by the ear ― literally, he might add ― and locked him in the bathroom until he took a shower, shaved and put on clean clothes. When he resembled a normal person again, Rhodey took him out to a party to get some air, see some people, you’re gonna go crazy in there all alone with your bots, man.

The party was a typical frat party. Lots of booze, lots of people, lots of chances to hook up. And it was there Tony met Steve. He had been in a corner, looking around like he wanted to be anywhere else but there, drinking beer from a plastic cup. Years after, Tony would swear to anyone that it was love at first sight. The minute he saw Steve standing there, with his way too small white shirt, and his blue pants, and his hair looking like freaking Johnny Bravo, he knew he had found the one… The one to spend many nights under the sheets doing things that would make a very experienced hooker blush.

So Tony approached him carefully. He’d learned the hard way to never assume a guy was, well, interested in guys. Straight men could be real dick heads about getting hit on by another man. So he introduced himself with a smile, asked for Steve’s name, which he promptly gave, and they started talking. As the party went on, they talked about everything… college, parents, favorite movies, favorite food, how cool is the new Star Wars movie, and on and on. At one point, Tony asked if Steve was interested in going somewhere private. They ended up in Steve’s apartment, with a very satisfied Tony being thoroughly fucked against a wall.

It could have been just a fling. They could have parted ways the next morning with a very sore ass ― in Tony’s case ― and a wonderful memory to cherish. But Tony woke up to the smell of coffee and freshly baked bagels and went to the kitchen, only to find a very naked Steve wearing a Captain America apron. Needless to say, breakfast was forgotten as Tony sucked Steve’s cock right there on the floor and the blond moaned his name until he came in Tony’s throat.

After that, they would meet regularly. Sometimes, when Steve had a bad day at work or had had a particularly difficult assignment, he would call Tony and they would watch a movie, eat Chinese food and fuck on every available surface in the small apartment. Other times, when Tony was frustrated with some new invention that just wouldn’t work the way he wanted or angry at the fact that every single person in MIT was too goddamn stupid, Steve, I swear to God, he would show up unannounced, already taking his clothes off as soon as the blond opened the door, and he would forget all of this troubles as Steve tore him apart, kissing every inch of his body and pressing him roughly against the mattress as he slammed his cock inside Tony again and again and again until the brunette was covered in cum, murmuring nonsense as he came back from his high, completely and utterly satisfied.

But it wasn’t just sex. They would do other things too. Every week, they’d rent a movie and watch it while cuddling on the sofa. Sometimes, they’d go out for a walk and have hot dogs at the park, or go to Howie’s and have cheeseburgers with fries. They did many couples thing and so, really, no one could blame Tony for thinking they were, in fact, a couple, even though they’d never said it out loud. Maybe Steve didn’t like labels or whatever, but they were definitely dating. Or so Tony thought.

Six months after that party ― and a LOT of mind blowing sex ― Tony begun to notice some things. It all started on a fateful Tuesday. He’d had a very bad day, full of uninteresting classes and way too many assignments due next week, not to mention the lovely phone call he’d gotten from his father earlier, in which, as usual, Howard specified every single thing that was wrong with Tony in a very disappointed voice. All the engineer wanted was to see Steve, to cuddle with him on his very uncomfortable couch and watch bad TV while complaining about everyone and everything as Steve hugged him and stroked his hair. A perfect night for a otherwise shitty day, he thought as he knocked on the door.

Only, when Steve opened the door, he didn’t immediately invite Tony in, which was odd on itself. He kept the door somewhat closed and, when he smiled, it looked more like a grimace than a actually “happy to see you” smile.

“Hey Tony, what are you doing here?”

Tony looked very confused for a moment.

“Uh… I… had a shitty day, thought we could watch crappy TV and eat some Mexican food. Are you… Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally fine”, he answered, taking a quick look inside before turning to Tony, the door still almost closed, as if he was afraid Tony might just walk in if he opened it a little bit more.

“Ok… Can I come in, then?”

“Uh, you know what, I have a friend over, so maybe we could meet another ti…”

“Hey, Stevie, who’s at the door?” a voice asked from inside the apartment.

In a second, the floor flew open, revealing another man. He was tall, with a prosthetic arm, a beard and long hair, pulled together in a bun on the top of his head. But Tony didn’t pay much attention to any of that. He was too busy staring at the pained look in Steve’s face.

“Oh, hey, I’m Bucky”, the guy said, offering his hand.

“Uh, I’m…”, Tony started to say, but a desperate Steve interrupted him immediately.

“This is Tony. He’s a friend from MIT”.

“Oh, cool, you wanna come in? We’re just gonna play some Call of Duty and chill”.

“He can’t stay. Maybe some other time, right Tony?” Steve interrupted again, looking at Tony with a desperate look on his face.

And Tony had to admit. That hurt him worse than a kick in the balls. He had heard about Bucky, of course, he was in every single one of Steve’s stories. But it was obvious that Bucky had never heard of him. Who doesn’t tell their best friend about their boyfriend?, Tony thought. But that was the thing, wasn’t it. Steve hadn’t introduced him as his boyfriend or his partner, he had introduced him as a friend. Not only that, but he was desperate to see Tony gone as soon as possible.

“Yeah, yeah, I, uh, I was just passing by and I gotta… I gotta go now, so… Yeah, sorry to bother you, Steve, I guess I’ll see you around”, as he said the words, Tony was very aware that he sounded like a kicked puppy, but he couldn’t help it. Without waiting for a reply, he just turned his back to Steve and his friend and got the hell out of there.

That night, he got fifteen calls from Steve, three voicemails and a dozen texts. He ignored all of them. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, least of all Steve. He was deeply hurt and had never felt so stupid in his entire life. Of course they weren’t dating. Tony should have seen it coming. He laid there on his bed and remembered every single moment he spent with Steve out in the open. They never held hands when they were in public. They never hugged, never kissed, shit, even when they went to those restaurants, Steve never even sat close to him. He always kept his distance, and at first Tony thought he was just one of those guys who didn’t like PDAs, but now he knew better.  Steve just didn’t want anyone to know he was fucking Tony. He didn’t want people to figure out he was involved with someone like Tony. And honestly, who could blame him? Tony was aware of who he was. Howard had never let him forget it. Lazy, good for nothing, never got anything right. And his last two boyfriends, Justin and Ty, had both agreed wholeheartedly with Howard’s opinion on his son. So why would Steve be any different? He should have known. It was stupid of him to think anyone would want him for anything more than just sex. And so Tony spent the whole night hating himself.

The next morning, Steve came over. Tony met him outside of his building while he was getting out with Rhodey. He told his best friend to go along without him, that he and Steve needed to talk. Rhodey wasn’t happy about it, but left anyway, although not without giving Steve the nastiest look first.

Steve looked devastated. “Tony, look, I’m so sorry”.

“For what?”

“For being a dick to you last night. For introducing you as just my friend. I know that really hurt you and I’m so sorry”.

“Nah”, Tony denied, gesturing with his hand as if the whole thing was no big deal, “It’s fine, I mean, what are you going to do, introduce me to everyone as your fuck buddy? That would be awkward, right?”

Steve looked like he’d been slapped when Tony said “fuck buddies”.

“You’re not… Tony, you know you’re not… that… to me”.

“Really? So what am I, Steve?”

“You’re… Shit, listen… I’m… I’m in love with you, Tony, I really am. I never met anyone like you in my entire life and you make me so happy and all I want is to make you as happy as you make me. But… I can’t tell my friends. They don’t know I’m…”, he stopped talking all of a sudden, looking around like he’s afraid someone might hear him, before whispering the last word, “…gay”.

Tony didn’t know how to react. He remembered when he first came out to his parents as bisexual. His mother thought it was just a phase, something that would pass with time. Howard, on the other hand, almost ripped him a new one. He screamed for hours, called Tony every name in the book, told him he was a disgrace to the Stark name and so on and so on. It was horrible. Then he thought about Rhodey and how terrified he’d been when the older boy caught him in a compromising position with Tiberion Stone. He looked livid. He threw Tiberion out of the apartment and he was so angry Tony actually thought Rhodey might hit him or something. And then he started screaming. And Tony almost burst into tears out of sheer relief. What the hell are you doing with that asshole, Tony? Seriously, he punched his last boyfriend in the face, man, in the middle of a party. There’s no fucking way I’m letting you date that abusive asshole, you hear me? He was worried. About Tony. Not angry that Tony was dating a man and hadn’t told him, just worried about his safety. So, you’re not mad?, Tony had asked with a small voice. I’m mad about a lot of things you do, Tony, like leaving the freaking screwdrivers in the middle of my living room or drinking the fucking milk straight for the carton. But I’ll never be mad about who you are, man. I can promise you that.

So Tony got it. He did, really. The fear of coming out and not being accepted, of losing the people close to you because they can’t accept this very important part of you. And he really did like Steve. Like he never liked anyone before in his life. So he made a decision.

And so, for the past two years, much to Rhodey’s displeasure, Steve and Tony had been secretly seeing each other. Bucky, and his girlfriend, Natasha, knew Tony only as “Steve’s friend from MIT” and seemed to think nothing of it. Sometimes, Natasha would try to set Steve up with one of her friends, and Steve would politely decline while saying he just didn’t have the time for that. And it killed a little bit of Tony when it happened, but he would stand there, every time, a fake smile on his face as he pretended to be Steve’s very straight friend.

And it had worked. It wasn’t ideal, and Tony hated it, but he loved Steve and he was willing to suffer if it meant they could be together. Everything worked fine. Until today.

They were at Steve’s apartment. It was his birthday. All of his friends were there. Sam, Bucky, Natasha, Clint, Thor. He’d invited some of Tony’s friends as well, like Bruce, Rhodey and Pepper. They had beer, vodka, pizza and a huge cake with “Happy Birthday, Dumbass” written in icing, courtesy of Bucky. It was all good, until Natasha came over and started talking.

There were in the kitchen when it happened. Pepper, Rhodey and Bucky were opening pizza boxes and getting paper plates, and Steve was sitting on the counter, drinking a beer while talking to Tony, when Natasha showed up.

“So, Steve, I just talked to Sharon. She said she had a great time. Are you taking her out again or what?”

Immediately, the room got quiet. Pepper and Rhodey, who were both very aware of Steve and Tony’s secret relationship, turned to look at Tony, who looked like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

“What date?”, he asked quietly, looking at Steve.

“It’s nothing, just…”

“You went out with someone?”, Tony asked again, the pain now clear in his voice.

“Yeah, but just to make Nat… No, wait, Tony, stop”, he said, jumping down from the counter, but Tony was already leaving the kitchen.

He ran after him and grabbed his arm, trying to stop him from leaving the house. The others ran after them, stopping at the door, while Clint, Bruce and Thor, who were at the couch playing videogames, stopped and looked at them, confused.

“LET ME GO, I’M DONE WITH THIS. I’M DONE, STEVE. YOU WANNA HIDE YOUR WHOLE LIFE, THAT’S FINE, BUT I’M FUCKING DONE BEING YOUR DIRTY LITTLE SECRET”, Tony screamed, pushing Steve away from him.

“Wait, what. Are you guys…?” Clint started asking, looking even more confused.

“NO, we’re just friends”, Steve tried to explain, but Tony’d had enough.

“We’re not just friends and you fucking know it”, he shouted, tears coming down his face now, “I tried to be understanding, I tried to give you time, but FUCK YOU, STEVE. WE’RE DONE”.

And with that, Tony left, Pepper and Rhodey right after him.

It took Tony almost two weeks to even resemble a functioning human being again. In that time, he had cried on his bed every single day, unable to hold it in, as either Rhodey or Pepper sat there by his side, stroking his hair while whispering that everything was going to be okay. Tony didn’t believe them. How could anything ever be okay again? Steve had kept him as a dirty little secret no one could ever find out about, cuddling with him at night, whispering “I love you” again and again in his ear, all the while going out with whoever Natasha set him up. It hurt. It hurt so bad Tony honestly didn’t think he could recover from it.

Natasha had called as well. She apologized for setting Steve up with someone else, berating herself for not noticing anything was amiss before. Tony forgave her, of course. It wasn’t her fault. It was his. His fault for believing in Steve, for thinking he could have this. That he could actually be happy.

But after two weeks of feeling miserable and sorry for himself, Tony decided he needed to get back to his life. Steve already ruined my love life, he thought, a bit dramatically, not gonna let him ruin my academic life as well. So, on a Monday, he got up, got dressed, and left the apartment, somewhat ready to face the day. And found Steve sitting on the ground, just outside his building, with a bouquet of flowers on his hand.

“What the hell are you doing here?”, Tony exclaimed, surprised.

Steve, who was staring at the ground looking miserable, suddenly looked up when he heard Tony’s voice and immediately got up.

“Hi”, he whispered, “I’ve been coming here every day, waiting for you to come out”.

“Why didn’t you just ring the doorbell?”

“I did”, he said, grimacing, “Rhodey broke my nose and told me to get lost both times”.

“Good”, Tony replied, satisfied, even though deep down he felt a little sorry for Steve.

“Look, Tony, please, just let me say this. And when I’m finished, if you want me to go away and never come back, I will, I promise. Please”.

He was begging. He looked so sad and so lost, Tony’s heart melted a little. So, he crossed his arms and waited for Steve to talk.

“I… I know I hurt you. Bad. And I’m so sorry. I’ll never forgive myself for causing you so much pain, Tony, really. You were right. The problem was me. Deep down, I knew my ma wouldn’t care if I was gay. And I know Bucky and the others wouldn’t care either. I just… I don’t know, I had this idea in my head that it was different with me, you know. That it was okay for Clint to be gay, but if they found out I was? They would hate me. I don’t know why I thought that, but I did”.

Tony looked away for a moment and exhaled, closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry for exposing you like that. That wasn’t cool. You should be able to come out on your own terms and I took that from you. I exposed you to your friends when you clearly weren’t ready to come clean. I’m really sorry about that. It was a dick move”.

“Yeah, it was”, Steve replied, with a huffed laugh, “But I get it. You spent two years hiding for me, Tony. Two years pretending and trusting that I would get the courage to come out one day, and then you find out I went out with some girl. I get how much that hurt you, because if it was me in your place, and I heard you went out with someone else, I’d be devastated. But I need you to know this. Nothing happened. I swear. We ate, we talked, she went home. We didn’t kiss, we didn’t even hug. I just did it so Natasha would leave me alone, you know”.

“Yeah, I get it. I guess we both screwed up”.

Steve nodded, looking down at the flowers in his hand.

“I’m seeing a therapist. She’s helping me with this idea I had in my head, you know. That it’s okay for other people to be who they are, but not for me. I’m getting better”.

“That’s good, Steve”, Tony replied, “I’m happy for you”, he said and he meant it.

“I just… I know it’s a lot to ask, but… Can we try again? I’ll be better this time, I promise. I just… I love you. And I miss you so much. Please”, he whispered, looking at Tony with a pained look.

And Tony thought about it. He remembered every happy moment he had with Steve, and how much he loved him. They had hurt each other, he knew, but they could get past it. He knew they could. So he smiled and took the flowers from Steve’s hand, holding them to his chest.

“How about this time we start with a date?”

And, in that moment, Steve’s smile could light up the entire city.

[harryspet]

the good guy | steve rogers

[warnings] dark steve rogers x reader, pre-serum steve x reader, 40′s setting, petite reader, angst, noncon sex (wear a condom, kids), public sex?

A/N: this was inspired by @darkastrea​ ‘s idea where the reader falls for skinny steve because he’s small like her and makes her less insecure but after the war she’s not attracted to him anymore and super soldier steve doesn’t handle the rejection well. 

THIS ADULT CONTENT AND CONTAINS TRIGGERING SUBJECTS

In which Steve returns from the war and things just aren’t the same. 

word count: 3.6k

Everyone looked past you. Even your own family. Steve was the only one who understood that. He understood everyone looking down on you, literally. He was small like you but he was the one who knew how to stand up for himself. You admired that. 

The first time you met him, he had ducked into the bakery you worked at part time. The sign clearly read “closed” but the lights of the shop were still on. As he hid behind one of the tables, you watched as a group of men ran past the front of the store, completely missing their target. 

He had always had a way of astonishing you. When he introduced himself that night, you had no idea how deep your bond would grow. 

You were barely over five feet and that seemed to shock Steve as much as his height shocked you. Everyone seemed to tower over you and every woman Steve met towered over him. No thanks to the family you grew up with, most men intimidated you. Steve seemed to be different than most guys. 

“Do you always go looking for fights?” You asked, handing him a cup of coffee. You took a break from closing up the shop to get to know the courageous stranger. 

“Not always, ma’am,” He answered, a sly smile on his face, “But I’ve noticed that they just continue to pick on you when you stand down.”

You nervously tapped at your coffee cup as his words sunk in, “But won’t they always win when they’re bigger than you …” Steve could sense the double meaning behind your words but decided it was best not to dig into the intimacies of a strangers life. 

“They lose their power when you’re confident. They assume. because you’re smaller, that you’re mentally weaker. They back off when you show them you’re not.”

You slowly nodded, stirring your spoon around your coffee, “Is that why you ran in here?”

“Oh, those guys? My method works better against one guy, not six. With six guys, you just gotta run,” You laughed at that and Steve noted your beautiful smile. In all these years, he’d never gotten close to getting a girl to smile like that for him. They looked past him because of his scrawny looks yet you saw him, “Are you the Gloria in Gloria’s Sweets?”

You shook your head, your smile still wide, “Oh no, that’s my boss. I’m Y/N,” Steve held his hand out to shake yours. 

“Steve Rogers.”

You looked down at your watch, knowing that you’d be expected home soon, “Well, if you don’t mind, I have to clean up and then get home.” As you stood up from your seat, Steve stood up abruptly too. 

“I can help,” He rushed out, “And I can escort you home … since it’s so late.”

Your head cocked to the side, curiously, “Really?”

“Of course,” Steve said, “It’s the least I could do after distracting you from work.”

You slowly nodded in agreement, “Okay.”

You cleaned up the kitchen together and Steve explained the reason those six guys were chasing him. Apparently, he was out drinking with his friend Bucky and saw the drunks messing with a stray cat, throwing bottles at it. He kindly tried to tackle one of the guys and the chase ensued. “At least the cat escaped,” Steve said. 

You closed up the shop and allowed Steve to walk you home. Luckily, there was no sign of the group of men from before. You walked the five blocks home, Steve acting as your “protection”. Really, you were just enjoying his company. 

“This is me,” You said as you stopped in front of your building, “We should probably say bye here. My family will send me to some Christian camp in the midwest if they catch me with a boy.”

Steve nodded, his lips in a thin line, “... Can I ... Can I see you again, Y/N?”

You nodded, a soft smile on your lips, “You know where I work. Swing by any time, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve’s heart did a backflip in his chest and a happy warmth heated his cheeks, “Yes, ma’am.”

+

You hadn’t realized what you were experiencing with Steve was a crush until this moment. When you ran together on the sandy beach because he surprised you with a day trip. He knew you had been stressed out from nursing school and wanted to help you relax. 

Your mother thought you were at a girl friend’s home, of course, but even she had met Steve already. Five months ago, you invited Steve to dinner with your family. It was one of the most awkward experiences of your life. Your father grilled him on his intentions, your mother didn’t seem to think he was worthy of you and your older brothers made jokes about his appearance. 

You thought he might be done with you after that. Turns out, Steve was quite used to people talking to him that way. It hadn’t scared him off at all, only made him understand why you acted the way you did. He understood why you went through life with your head down. 

Your family had bulldozed over you for your entire life. 

You snapped out of the memory as Steve grabbed your hand. He spun you in a circle and you danced around in the sand. The waves were loud and the people celebrating Memorial Day. 

The two of you plopped down onto the sand as you attempted to catch your breath. Your long cream skirt was dirtied but that didn’t matter much to you. You were focused on the sparkling blue in his eyes, the hint of green you noticed, and how incredibly kind they were. 

“Steve,” You breathed, “Thank you.”

“For what?” He grinned back at you. 

For caring like no one ever has. For letting you talk. For making you laugh. 

“For today,” You said instead, “I really needed this.”

You stayed at the beach all day, eating the lunch Steve packed for the two of you and then laying down to look at the stars as night set. 

Your hands brushed against each other but neither of you was bold enough to grab onto one another. 

“Y/N,” You turned your head to him as he called your name, “I brought you here to tell you something.”

You turned on your side, resting your head against your hand, “What’s that?”

The eager look on your face quickly fell as you realized he wasn’t about to confess his love for you, “You know how badly I wanted to enlist,” You nodded your head, scared of his next words, “Well, an opportunity arose. I get to go to boot camp, to train, and finally prove myself. If I get chosen for this project, I can make a real difference.”

Bullies. Steve hated bullies no matter where they came from. 

You were quiet for a moment and Steve struggled to read the emotions on your face, “I want to be happy for you, I do. This is your dream …” Your voice trailed off, “But I worry, Steve. They rejected you five times. What makes you think you’re not just a sacrifice?”

Steve simply shrugged, “It’s the cause that matters more. I want to help any way that I can.”

“You don’t care about coming back,” Your eyes welled with tears, “To me?”

“Of course I do,” Steve turned on his side now, reaching out to brush a tear from your cheek, and brush a curl behind your ear, “But I have to do this. I just have to. And when I get back, we’re going to drive across the country and see all the sites. From east to west, we’ll see everything.”

“I hope you mean that, Steve. Promise you’ll come back?”

“I swear.”

+

Steve kept his promise. It took until the very end of the war but he kept his promise. Only, things had changed so much since last saw him. You couldn’t believe the Steve you saw in those newspapers. He had completely turned into a hero. You already knew he was a hero but it seemed the rest of the world could recognize it now. 

Your family’s tune completely changed. Now they were begging you to marry him. Deep down, with all the changes, you didn’t even expect Steve to care about you anymore. Every woman in the world was swooning over him. 

As you stepped out of the brownstone where your classes were held, clutching your brown sweater tight to you, you didn’t expect the sight before you. Steve was there, clad in his army brown suit, and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. 

The girls who normally brushed past you stopped to stare. It baffled them that Steve was there for you, someone who was barely noticeable in a crowd. 

Steve’s white smile was wide as you approached him, clutching your bag at your side, “Steve-” He instantly pulled you into a hug and, already, you felt things were off. Your head was pressed against his chest as he pulled you in and his suffocating, strong arms wrapped around you. He was an entire foot taller now and had gained at least a hundred more pounds of pure muscle. 

He didn’t look anything like the Steve you knew before, even his face had changed slightly. 

You spoke as he finally let you go, “Steve, what are you-”

“These are for you,” He interrupted you, handing you the flowers, “God, I really missed you.”

“I missed you too,” You agreed, smiling awkwardly up at him. You looked around to see a group of people were staring, “Maybe we could talk somewhere else?”

Steve agreed, his smile still wide. He hadn’t yet noticed your trepidation through the excitement of it all. 

You and Steve found a restaurant a few blocks away, but even there, people seemed to stare at the two of you. The waitress practically spilled coffee on you from being distracted by him, “Y/N, is something wrong?”

You shook your head though you didn’t mean it, “It’s just … this is all so new. I didn’t expect you’d come back …. like this.”

Steve didn’t seem to get the hint, “What do you think? Do you like the new features?” Part of you was grateful that there was a table between the two of you. The man radiated so much power now, “I can make more than a difference now. I can run a mile in less than a minute, lift a war missile. I can protect the little guys.”

“That’s great,” You were happy for him but you couldn’t help but feel a bit intimidated by his newfound abilities, “Those goons at the bars won’t know what hit them.”

Steve chuckled, “Enough about me. How’s school?”

“It’s good. My finals are soon so we’ll find out if I have what it takes.”

“I’m sure you do,” Steve assured you, “You’re the smartest girl I know, Y/N. What about your family?”

“They’re the same. In my business as usual,” You thought about your next words carefully, “My mom … she’s starting to set me up on all these dates. She says that, in case I don’t pass my exams, that I should have someone to support me. Things are getting tight, you know?”

“Oh?” You saw the light leave his eyes and you mentally cursed, “Are you really interested in one of these guys?”

You shrugged, “I’m not sure. I really just want to focus on school and work. Dating is so complicated.”

“Oh,” Steve said again, tucking the ring box he held under the table back into his pocket, “Yes, complicated … before I left, I thought we sort of had a shot, Y/N.”

“... Me and the super soldier? The world would probably laugh at you for choosing someone like me.”

“They wouldn’t. If they did, I’d take care of ‘em.”

“It’s a sweet fantasy, Steve.”

With that, you successfully broke Captain America’s heart. 

+

Steve thought you just needed time. You’d soon realize that he was still like the old Steve and you’d come running into his arms later, begging to be with him. It didn’t seem to matter how much time passed, three months to be exact, because you had changed the way you saw him. 

You still entertained him during your late shifts and you got to hear all about his secret missions. He still had the same sense of justice that you had admired him for. You could barely believe the things that he accomplished. 

Tonight, Steve refused to just sit around the diner, he wanted to go out. He was going to take you into the new drive-in upstate. He had a completely new car courtesy of SHIELD and he was keen to show you a life of luxury. You had never heard of a drive-in before, let alone been to one. Steve explained to you that they were going to be the “next big thing”. 

He paid a couple of cents for the movie, even though you told him that you’d pay for yourself. You noticed how, lately when you protested, he’d simply raise his hand up and give you a look that said “I’ve got this”. You knew he was only trying to be a gentleman but part of you disliked the feeling it gave you. 

The two of you met up with Bucky and his current fling. Both Steve and Bucky seemed to be riding the high that winning the war brought them. You watched them talk before the movie, Bucky’s girl practically drooling over him. As you went to your separate cars, it seemed she couldn’t keep her hands off of him. 

As you watched them kiss, practically swallowing each other, Steve wrapped his arm around your shoulder. You tried your best not to let out a sigh as you watched him try to play it cool, “I don’t think they’re stopping to breathe,” You commented and Steve’s eyes looked past you into the car beside yours. You didn’t notice but Steve’s eyes had turned to you, “I mean, I didn’t even know people kissed like that in real life.”

When you turned back around to look at Steve, he was suddenly grabbing your face and smashing his lips onto yours. Hungry and desperate, sloppy and inexperienced, his lips moved against your frozen face. As soon as the realization hit, you tried your best to push him away. It was like pushing at a boulder. 

“Steve-” You struggled to cry out against his lips, “Steve, stop!”

When Steve finally pulled away, you tried to catch your breath as you wiped away your smudged lipstick. Steve stared at you in disbelief as you shouted, “What is wrong with you?” Luckily, the windows were rolled up and people were focused on the movie screen, “What did I say to make you think I wanted to kiss you? Y-You said this wasn’t a date.”

“I’m … I’m sorry,” He apologized. It was stupid to think that his new body had changed everything. He was still that small kid that would get rejected over and over. Steve turned away from you, his blood starting to boil. 

“I want to go home,” You told him, not meeting his eyes. Could you even be his friend anymore? Everything about him was beginning to intimidate you. 

Steve didn’t say another word as he put the car in reverse. He wasted no time interrupting Bucky’s makeout session or finishing the movie. The two of you sat in silence for a long while as you drove down the dark, winding road. 

“That day at the beach, you cried,” You looked up and noted how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel, “You cried when you heard I was getting shipped off and, now … what’s changed, Y/N?”

You could sense the hurt in this voice and your lip began to wobble as you thought of those nights you spent crying over him, “Steve ... “ You sighed.

“What is it?” Steve persisted, “I told you that I don’t care what other people think!”

“Steve, that’s not it!” You insisted, “You’re not … you’re not the little guy anymore. Being with you used to make me feel safe a-and now ....”

“Now I’m just like every other guy?” You nodded, your face solemn. The car slowed down and Steve pulled to the side of the road, “I’m the bad guy now? After everything?”

“I know you’re not the bad guy … ” As he turned his body to face you, you felt yourself cowering back, your small body sinking into the leather seat. You felt the frustration and testosterone radiating off of him. Your breathing hitched in your throat as Steve pulled out the ring box in his pocket. 

“I don’t understand why you can’t just accept me,” Steve spoke, his deep voice growing rougher, “Why can’t you just love me like you used to?”

“You’re a killing machine,” You spoke softly, “A tool for destruction.”

The car went silent as Steve simply stared at you, that same hunger in his eyes. He reached out to grab your face, “I can be gentle,” He tried to assure you and you reached up to grab onto his arm, pushing it away. The fact that the only reason his hand moved was because he wanted to move it, was enough for you. If he wanted, he could do anything to you. 

“Steve, I want to go home,” You stated as firmly as you could. Your hands were starting to shake, your anxiety reaching a new height. 

“You aren’t going anywhere,” Steve stated firmly, turning off the ignition, “Not until you agree to let me put that ring on your finger.”

Your eyes darted around, looking for a passerby or a car to drive by. Nothing. You began to panic and before Steve could reach out for you again, you opened the passenger door and stumbled out, “Y/N!” Your hands hit the dirt as you scrambled to your feet and you quickly lost one of your heels. Despite the pain of the dirt and asphalt, you slipped off the other one, picking up your long skirt as you began to run. 

You had never heard Steve curse before but he did as he got out of the car to chase you, “Y/N, don’t run from me!” You sped up as you heard him coming after you. You thought you could at least make it a few more feet but the wind was knocked out of you as Steve wrapped his arms around you. 

You fought hard against the man that was three times your size though you both knew your efforts were futile. He easily tossed you over your shoulder and carried you the distance back to the car. You called for help and as he set you back down, he covered your mouth with his own hand, his fingers tightening around your face. 

You screamed even harder as you kicked between his legs. He let you go only to fall on top of you, sending you both to the ground. Steve groaned, still managing to hold your hands down as he recovered. He was fuming at this point as you squirmed around in the dirt. Looking into your frightened eyes, Steve made a decision. 

A decision that would make you regret ever handing him that cup of coffee. 

“I protect you, I protect everyone, and I’m the bad guy?” It was rhetorical, you understood that as Steve tore open your blouse, exposing your white brassier, “I’ll show you what I am.”

Steve pinned down your legs with his own as he held your arms pinned above your head with one of his own. Not bothering to fumble with your skirt, he simply tore away the fabric. You screamed louder but only the silence of the night answered you. 

Steve pulled away your white underwear, exposing your sensitive area to the cool air of the night, “Steve, I-I’m sorry,” You pleaded, choking on your sobs, “Please don’t, I’m a virgin!”

“Then this will be special for both of us,” Steve concluded, fumbling with his belt and pulling down his trousers. You tried not to look down as he positioned himself between your legs, “We’re going to be happy together like we were intended to be. It’ll feel so good that you’ll forget your doubts”

His grip on you was so tight that you were sure that he’d leave bruises. As he pushed his tip against your entrance, you could feel how hard he was. This wasn’t how your first time should’ve been. You should be married and on a honeymoon, not on the side of the road. 

You cried out as he slowly pushed inside of you. Your body continued to struggle, resulting in Steve moving his hand to wrap around your neck. His fingers tightened around your neck as you struggled to breathe clearly. 

You wrapped around him tightly, resisting him but Steve pushed through. It was a magical feeling to Steve. All he could ask for was having his first time with the woman of his dreams. 

Steve grunted as his pace began to quicken. He made you feel so small and defenseless. The member between his legs was practically the size of your forearm, successfully impaling you. You couldn’t believe that your body was beginning to adjust to him. It was starting to get pleasure from the friction he was creating. 

“That’s it, darling,” Steve groaned as mangled moans began to leave your mouth, “Enjoy the feeling of me being inside you, enjoy being mine. You don’t need someone ‘good’, you need someone efficient.”

That night, after he had taken your virtue, Steve knew he had the rest of you too. He’d make you his little wife.

+

Hope you enjoyed this because I loved writing it!!

[occasionalfics]

The New Normal (Steve X Thor X Reader)

drabble masterlist | main masterlist | taglist | the first time (part 1)

For Anonymous: who wanted cute polyam fluff. 

A/N: I’m pretty sure we’re generally in agreement that Thor leans heavily toward pansexuality (though I’m bi so I’m also biased but that’s neither here nor there right now) and he’s also super old (everyone makes fun of bucky and steve for this but it’s just because Thor’s kind of almost immortal?) and really experienced. So I wanted to look at establishing their actual relationship with the reader and also look at particularly Steve’s adjustments, since we’re also in a general agreement that Midgardian courting standards are kind of super restrictive and weirdly stiff.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, but really nothing too descriptive.

Words: 2,158

You were spoiled by two amazing men, and you’d be the first to admit it. The only thing that stressed you out was the expectation that they’d agreed to one threesome because they both loved you, but then they’d ask you to choose between them. You’d been positive it was a one-off thing, just an experiment. Not a competition, but a proposition that put all three of you on the same level. Having sex with both Steve and Thor at the same time had been terrifying at first, but worth every moment, and it meant that you didn’t even have to upset one of them to pick the other to go first.

When it was all over, you waited for them to come back to you with an ultimatum. For weeks after, whenever you were alone with one of them, you waited anxiously for the other to come in and insist you choose between them. But they never did.

You noticed that they made an effort to spend more time with you together after the first time. Steve would ask both you and Thor to go to the movies, or Thor would try making dinner for all three of you, though you or Steve or both of you usually had to step in and at least assist. They got comfortable spending nights with all three of your bodies in Thor’s bed, which was bigger than either yours or Steve’s (he insisted it be so, stating that not only was he larger than most of the other Avengers, but that Midgardian bed sizes were miniscule and unbearable).

You found them in the common area watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine one afternoon, so you placed yourself between them on the couch and tried to focus on the episode. It was a re-run, but normally you didn’t mind that. Normally, you’d laugh along with Steve and butt in when he had to explain references (mostly about locale) to Thor. But that day, you were particularly anxious about them making you choose. You didn’t even have a reason to be, but you were.

You waited until a commercial break to pause the show - because of course Tony had on-demand - which automatically caught their attention.

“What’s up, (Y/N)?” Steve asked. “You never pause Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”

You cleared your throat. “I, um. I don’t really know,” you said, staring at the complicated decoration on the coffee table. It was one of those minimalist geometric shapes, but you couldn’t quite identify what shape it was supposed to be.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Thor asked, turning his huge body to you. “You almost never pause anything. For anyone.”

“Yeah, you made Thor miss a good ten minutes of that political drama the other day,” Steve said. “We spent two hours explaining the rest of the movie afterwards.”

They both had points. The same point. They were in sync, so why weren’t you? You sighed and pushed some hair behind your ears before saying, “So, I have no idea what we all are.” You still refused to look at either of them, because that would mean they’d see the panic in your eyes. “A couple weeks ago, I was just dating two guys and I couldn’t pick and now...like, what’s going on here?”

From your peripheral, you saw them exchange glances, the way they had silently sent messages to one another as they’d undressed you the first time. In their silence, your heart skipped a beat because your initial thought was that their absence of a response wasn’t good.

“If you’re gonna make me pick, just do it,” you told them. “I can’t take waiting around for the day you sit me down and tell me we can’t keep doing...whatever it is we’re doing.”

Steve shifted so that he faced you, and Thor reached an arm across the back of the couch behind you.

“I thought it was pretty obvious we weren’t making you pick,” Thor said. You felt him shrug more than saw it happen, and his fingers just barely grazed the short hairs on the back of your neck.

“(Y/N), don’t you think we would’ve had this conversation by now if we weren’t comfortable going on the way we have been?” Steve asked, leaning forward to place a hand on your knee closest to him. That drew your attention, so you finally made eye contact with him. He was smiling sweetly, like he always did when he couldn’t believe how adorable you were. That’s what he always said, anyway. “Have you been worrying about this since that first time, honey?”

You didn’t know which question to answer first. Steve made it sound like it should’ve been so obvious that things were different - not because you had sex, but because something had changed in your relationship. But you hadn’t noticed a change; you were still dating each of them, and they were both dating you, but they weren’t dating each other. Not that you thought, anyway; they certainly hadn’t said anything about that changing to you.

“Um, yeah,” you said in response to his second question. “Because we started that immediately after I told you both I couldn’t pick. And then we never returned to the subject.”

“Should we have?” Thor asked, and you turned to him quickly.

You shrugged, then stood up and turned around so you could sit on the coffee table. That way, you wouldn’t have to keep pivoting every time one of them said something. “To be honest, I have no idea. I’ve just been worried about what we are and what you wanted me to do about it.”

“You don’t have to do anything you aren’t already doing,” Steve said, his arm now bent along the back of the couch, his head resting on the ball of his palm. “But maybe it’ll help if we actually talk about our boundaries, right?”

You both looked at Thor, then all three of you nodded together.

“What do you want out of this courtship, love?” Thor asked you.

You bit your lip, unsure of what you wanted that you didn’t already have. Both of these magnificent men before you loved you - so much that they were both your firsts, both willing to try exploring sexuality for you. Well, maybe it was Steve that was opening up to exploring his sexuality; Thor made it rather clear on more than one occasion that he was very experienced with a multitude of people and species. He’d been around long enough to be more than confident in his sexual appetite.

“I want us all to be comfortable,” you said finally. “And at the end of the day, I just want to love you both. Which isn’t the standard here, I know, but…” You didn’t know how to finish.

“I’m pretty sure that’s what we all want,” Steve said, putting his leg out far enough for his foot to tap lightly against yours.

“But you were hesitant at first,” you said. “I know you were. You only agreed to my first time because I wanted you to-”

He shook his head. “I agreed because I wanted to, honey,” he said, followed with a chuckle. “I love you, and, yeah, I wanted to be a part of your first time, but I wasn’t gonna commit to anything I didn’t want to do.”

You pursed your lips, then nodded. “Fair enough,” you mumbled.

Thor sat forward and put his elbows on his knees. If he extended his pinky, he could touch you easily. He smiled and said, “So, if I’m following, you simply want to know what the status of our relationship is, right?”

You nodded. “I knew sex was gonna complicate this,” you said, shutting your eyes. “So I’ve just been waiting for the pin to drop and for one of you to tell me you wanted me to pick you over the other or...or something. Like, this is too good to be true, right?”

They stared at you, then at one another. Steve shrugged, and then Thor did, and you were convinced that you were missing out on some secret psychic power because they definitely just had a whole conversation without you.

“Neither of us think sex complicated anything,” Steve said.

Thor did reach out and poke your knee then. You mostly ignored him, but then his fingers all reached for yours, and you let him do whatever it was he wanted.

“I’m pretty sure it cleared a lot up for us, actually,” Steve continued. “It definitely made me realize that I’m all in for this. All three of us.” He shrugged again. “We kinda make a good team, don’t you think?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“Then Steven and I see no issue,” Thor cut in. “We both love you and want to be with you. You love us and want to be with both of us, correct?”

You nodded.

“Then that’s how it is.”

“So...I just have two boyfriends?” you asked, your eyes darting from Thor to Steve and back as you tried to guess who would speak up first.

“Pretty much.” It wa Steve, who’s smile turned into a smirk as he looked at Thor. “We’ll let you know if that changes, honey.”

The only thing that changed over time was how much affection Steve felt comfortable showing toward Thor in public settings. You never saw him be outrightly rude to anyone, especially not Thor, but it took a while before he was comfortable sitting at a table in a restaurant with just Thor while you went to the bathroom. Months went by before you ever saw Steve hold Thor’s hand at the county fair while you were getting a basket of fried pickle spears. Thor was open - always - and loved holding onto someone at all times; he craved physical connection like no one else, but Steve…

Steve was the sensitive, quiet, artist type when he was allowed to be a person, not a soldier. He was still old fashioned sometimes. Men in his time didn’t embrace with pure adoration on their faces, although he kept saying his relationship with Bucky made something of a difference there. Still, he wasn’t used to flaunting his significant others in public spaces, especially not other men.

But he watched the way you and Thor embraced. He put as much effort into being communicative about his feelings and fears as you and Thor did. He wanted your relationship to be about equality on all sides. He always made sure to tell you and Thor he wanted to make it work.

Over time, you saw and felt little changes until they became bigger changes. When this had all started, Steve and Thor would either take you from opposite sides, like they had the first time, or you’d get one of them by themselves for a night. But you noticed when Thor gripped Steve’s hand just as he was about to come - Steve nearly had a heart attack, or at least looked like it. But the next time all three of you were together, Steve kissed Thor over your shoulder. It was a quick peck, but it was something you’d never forget. There was absolutely no a chance of missing Thor holding Steve’s hand on the way to dinner one night - they sat in the front of the retro car Steve had upgraded himself, their hands clasped together over the center console.

The longer this went on, the fewer nights you had to spend with just one of them or alone. It was almost the anniversary of your first time when Steve asked to be in the middle - he actually asked, and you and Thor heartily agreed. You got to be the Big Spoon when Steve thanked you both for being understanding and patient, knowing he’d never actually had another man inside him before. He had trouble walking the next day, but you and Thor took care of him.

Thor got better about knowing when to ask impulsive questions about odd Midgardian courting rituals, though not without offending you or Steve or both of you a few times. But he was always good about recognizing when he’d done something wrong and apologizing, and even better about committing to that apology. What surprised you more than anything was his extensive knowledge and memory recall of stories involving different toys and techniques - but it was only a surprise until you remembered that, while Steve was pretty old himself, Thor was even older. Needless to say, you experimented. A lot.

So maybe this didn’t start out as “normal,” but it became so. The jokes and the teasing around the compound stopped after a while because everyone was used to seeing the three of you together, happily cuddling or laughing or dancing. You’d never paid it much mind anyway. You had two men that you loved and loved you, and that was more than you ever thought you could ask for.

Tags!

Global/Permanent: @infinityblogger @champion-ofthe-sun @hopefulblazetriumph @httpmcrvel @capsheadquaters @samanthasmileys @sunigyrl @yeahbutmarvel

Thor: @thewayilookatbacon @athorable-and-deanlicous @baileythepenguin @mysweetcookie99 @girlwhoisfearless @tegan-eva @loveavengersandspn @loverofthor

Steve: @girlwhoisfearless @loveavengersandspn

Drabbles: @athorable-and-deanlicous

[praximeter]

Inventing idioms for fun and (no) profit

From Minka on AO3:

I do have a question tho... Is ”dash to the shed” or ”dead and straight to hell or straight to hell and dead” actually an idiom that has been used? Because that sounds legit but I couldnt find anything by googling it? (I’m sorry if this sounds rude I’m definitely not trying to be rude or offensive I’m just curious as to where you got that from)

Answering on Tumblr because I’ve gotten this question a couple times!

The quote in question comes from Bucky’s entry on May 12, 1944, when he’s talking to some greenhorn soldiers during preparation for the upcoming D-Day invasion. He gets asked what beach landings are like, and says:

“There’s only two ways you can go,” I said finally, because how do you describe it to guys who haven’t seen it for themselves? – “dead and straight to hell, or straight into hell and dead.”  

I then tacked on the following footnote to that entry:

During the Vietnam War, soldiers embarking on a patrol would often say to one another: “Time to dash to the shed, boys!”, a morbid reference to this piece of advice. “Dead And Straight to Hell” (“DASH”) or Straight to Hell And Dead” (“SHED”). The phrase has since become a common American idiom equivalent to “between a rock and a hard place.”

The answer is -- no, this is not a real idiom. I made it up for the story! I suppose it’s possible somebody somewhere said “dead and straight to hell, or straight into hell and dead” at some point but it’s nothing I came across in reading or research.

There are several other examples of quotes from The Night War becoming culturally significant, though, such as (more beneath the cut):

There are several quotations or phrases that entered the popular lexicon after the publication of The Night War. Here are six examples:

[1] “The Men in Charge Ain’t the Men Who Charge”

October 27, 1944

It’s not the guys holding the rifle that declare war, is it? I like Ike but I didn’t see him at Omaha Beach, not Patton Clark or Bradley neither. I’ve listened to a hell of a lot of fireside chats in my life but never across a campfire in a foxhole with the guy that signed my draft card. I figure it’s a pretty good bet old Adolf never defended a pillbox with Hans or Fritz and it’s a fact that Uncle Joe didn’t starve at Leningrad. Democratic fascist communist, it doesn’t make any difference—the men in charge are never the men who charge.

Footnote:

“The Men In Charge Ain’t The Men Who Charge”, a variation on this sentiment by Barnes, became a popular slogan during the height of the Vietnam War protests and appeared on signs and clothing. The phrase made a reappearance in the 2003 Iraq War protests in a slightly more modern and inclusive form, “The Ones In Charge Ain’t The Ones Who Charge.”

[2] “Hand to God you’ll be ready for krauts”

Phrases from the “Uncle Sam’s Very Favorite Draftee” song written by Private Rossi (“October 21, 1943″) are commonly quoted in basic training and throughout the armed forces, in particular the phrase “Hand to God you’ll be ready for krauts,” which is often said about hardass NCOs.

[3] Re: Mark Clark

One of the most common descriptions for General Mark Clark comes from The Night War, in particular the entry on January 27, 1944 in which Barnes quotes his friend Harry Miller, who died at Venafro:

Harry had a joke: “Infantry cry, “Home! Home! Home!”, and Clark hears “Rome! Rome! Rome!”

[4] “Somebody call Ike!”

“Somebody call Ike” was a common exclamation throughout the Korean War and the Vietnam War for moments when a soldier experienced extraordinary good luck. Though it declined in popularity after the Vietnam War, it does often appear in fictional media set during the time period. The phrase comes from another quote by Barnes’s friend Harry Miller:

In Italy Aldo Carter was always complaining about the plan failing and Harry said once, “Carter, just expect the opposite of what you want to happen, and plan for that,” and Aldo went, “and what if the opposite of what I want to happen doesn’t happen?” and Harry goes, “then somebody call Ike, you’re the luckiest bastard in Italy and you’re now in command of Fifth Army.”

[5] “Never in history has it been mothers who started a war.”

Barnes’s rumination on the role of women and mothers in warfare has oft been quoted, even in scholarly works. The phrase comes from his February 22, 1944 entry:

To think how many mothers just like her (though not as sweet or as kind—how could they be?) are doing the same thing—not just home but here in England and in France and in Russia and even in Germany—dutifully writing letters to sons who may never get them, pluck-ing those piano wires and endlessly waiting, just waiting, for it to be plucked on the other end, thousands and thousands of miles away. Never in history has it been mothers who started a war.

[6] “...It is still loud.”

Barnes’s June 7, 1944 entry, in which he describes his chaotic and overwhelmed thoughts in the aftermath of D-Day, is one of the most quoted sections of the entire book. In 1993, award-winning playwright and Vietnam War veteran Jermaine Hall incorporated the entry into a spoken word poem performed by the main character in his acclaimed play “Is Is Still Loud.”

All of us alive Steve shot in the thigh but OK somehow thank fucking Christ we are in a church with about 45 other guys the whole place quiet as Borough Park on a Friday night  just guys breathing except I think in our heads it is still loud. All any of us can possibly be hearing are the guns the 88s the way sand is under your boots when it’s red through ears ringing men screaming the buzzsaws hitting the sand like each bullet’s a lightning strike and the sand sprays up like when a guy gets hit in an artery.

[thedarcydichotomy]

✩

The Ultimate Relationship Tag

Send ‘✩’ for the following: 

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice?

Darcy - she can get into shouting mode pretty quickly. Thankfully Bucky gives it back, otherwise she’d feel horrifically guilty about yelling at him.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does?

Neither - Darcy wouldn’t threaten to leave, she’s a stay or go person, not one to make threats like that’s somehow going to fix a problem. And Bucky, if he threatened to leave, would go through with it. Of course he’d be back before too long, but he’s not the kind to make an idle threat.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves?

Bucky, but again, he doesn’t stay gone long. Just enough for Darcy to freak out and him to feel mopey.

Who trashes the house?

Bucky is the most likely to, if he has an episode of any sort. Otherwise...Darcy leaves stuff around pretty often, but not enough you’d call it trashing a place. Although if she accidentally shifts inside… That can lead to some property damage.

Do either of them get physical?

Both are very physical people, but neither wants to hurt the other. Darcy is all about poking, prodding, maybe a little bit of a kick to the shin if he’s being particularly antagonising. Bucky might grab her, but that’s more to pin her arms down to keep her from poking and prodding.

How often do they argue/disagree?

Not as often as people outside their relationship would believe. In public, they’re more likely to pick at each other, a terrible form of flirting laid over from their pre-relationship days. In private though, they’re all about the cuddling and the smooching and the being lovingly at peace.

Who is the first to apologise?

Bucky is more likely to crack and apologise, unless he really feels he’s in the right. Then Darcy will. Eventually. You know that song One Week by The Barenaked Ladies? Yeah.

Sex:

Who is on top?

Well, it depends what the mood is like, doesn’t it? They’re hardly going to be using the same positions all the time. Sometimes Darcy is on top, sometimes Bucky is, sometimes the positions don’t exactly lend to a top or a bottom. But they feel damn good.

Who is on the bottom?

See answer above.

Who has the strangest desires?

Neither of them has desires that are particularly on the strange side. Kinks, sure, but even then they’re not breaking anybodies brain with what they’re into. Plus they’re both pretty accepting of what the other is into, whether or not they’re into it themselves, so it’s a pretty judgement free zone.

Any kinks?

Oh ho ho, between the two of them? So many! Do you have an hour for me to sit here and list them? Probably not. Safe to say they’ve both got their things, and sometimes those things come together beautifully.

Like the toy collection. Beautiful.

Who’s dominant in bed?

Darcy is, not necessarily because she wants to be the dominant partner, but because Bucky has a strong preference for taking on the more submissive role in that kind of scenario. And Darcy is happy to oblige him - she just lets her wild side take a bit more control and suddenly that boy is all kinds of pinned down and marked up.

Is head ever in the equation?

Um, abso-frickin-lutely. Making Bucky whine and moan is up there as one of Darcy’s favourite hobbies, and head is a great way to get there pretty damn quick.

If so, who is better at performing it?

Debatable. Not that Bucky can perform ‘head’ on Darcy (though he is so very good with the oral - that man has one talented tongue), but the fact is he CAN and is very good at it.

They’re both in favour of Steve having to be the judge of that particular competition. Even if it’s more likely to end with both of them going to town on him at the same time.

Ever had sex in public?

There have been a few closet quickies, but nothing more public than that.

Who moans the most?

Bucky. And it’s a wonderful sound.

Who leaves the most marks?

Darcy. She loves leaving Bucky with bite marks and bruises and scratches, little bits of her possessiveness let out to play. Of course Bucky isn’t above giving back in that regard. Unfortunately, they both heal so fast… It really just means they have to go again to freshen them up.

Who screams the loudest?

When Bucky decides he wants to wreck her, Darcy can scream loud. There are definitely times when EVERYONE in the building knows what’s going down.

There have also been times when a bunch of Avengers have crashed into their room thinking she’s being attacked, which is all kinds of fun and awkward.

Who is the more experienced of the two?

They’re probably on par, really. Much as Bucky’s reputation was as a lout in his younger days, he didn’t go around just sleeping with any and everyone willing. They’ve each really only had a handful of partners in their respective lives.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’?

Porque no las dos?

Rough or soft?

Pourquoi pas les deux?

How long do they usually last?

Um, well, Bucky is a supersoldier and Darcy’s stamina is far higher than a regular human. You use your imagination and come up with what that can mean.

Is protection used?

Some form of protection, yes, but not usually condoms.

Does it ever get boring?

Nope - they both know how to press the others buttons and are willing enough to play along with their partner to keep things new and interesting. And even when it’s not like that, they’re in tune and care about each other, and sex is an extension of that - in some ways that’s the most intense cases.

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex?

A maintenance closet.

Family: ( I cut out most of this section as it wasn’t relevant following the first answer)

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children?

Nope - Bucky isn’t in a place where he thinks he’d be the best kind of father, and Darcy isn’t interested. Bucky is very keen for Steve or Sam or any of the other Avengers to get some popping out though so he can be the best uncle.

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle?

BOTH! So much both. They are a pair of cuddle beasts. They can’t be sat on the same sofa without getting all curled up in each other.

Who is the little spoon?

They take it in turns.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places?

Darcy is more likely to try a little something something to rile him up. He has been distracted in the middle of a conversation by her shaking her ass or her boobs at him.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself?  

Bucky, but he’s needy.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable?

Depends on a lot of things - injuries, what’s on their minds, time of day, surface, position. In bed they can easily cuddle the whole night through.

Who gives the most kisses?

Darcy. She’s very fond of kissing him at any and every given opportunity, even if it’s just a peck on the top of his head as she walks past him sat on the sofa, or one to his hand as they say goodbye.

What is their favourite non-sexual activity?

Cuddling and watching movies together.

Where is their favourite place to cuddle?

Sofa or bed.

Who is more likely to playfully grope the other?

Darcy! Bucky is a gentleman and wouldn’t just go around groping her. Darcy has no such compunctions and will grab two handfuls of that ass anytime.

How often do they get time to themselves?

Pretty regularly - it’s easy enough once they have their own place without Steve in the same home.

Sleeping:

Who snores?

Neither.

If both do, who snores the loudest?

Do they share a bed or sleep separately?

Share, of course. It’s hard to cuddle when you’re in different beds. Plus they have to spend enough nights apart when one of them is on mission, they’re not about to do it when they’re both in the same place.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart?

Cozy cozy cuddling.

Who talks in their sleep?

Bucky. He’s prone to nightmares, of course, but Darcy has come to to find him murmuring some incredibly silly and funny things at times too.

Her favourite was him telling off Steve for eating the spaghetti wig.

What do they wear to bed?

Both run hot naturally, and Bucky isn’t fond of getting a chill, but usually it’s boxers and a t-shirt/tank top for both.

Are either of your muses insomniacs?

Both can have their moments - Bucky when his mind is being particularly cruel, and Darcy when Bucky is away and she spends her nights worrying.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside?

Nope. Simple sleeping pills would metabolise out of both of them too quickly to be of any value. Bucky leaves some particularly potent tranquilisers with Steve, so it’s only in the most dire of cases that he’ll try and take them.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side?

Cozy cozy cuddling.

Who wakes up with bed hair?

Both. Bucky might be a superhuman and Darcy might be a werewolf, but neither of their follicles can fight the ruffling of bed head.

Who wakes up first?

Bucky. Not through a want to, but simply through training and conditioning.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other?

Darcy is more likely to, but Bucky has on occasion. Usually not all breakfast can be eaten in bed though, because they both eat A LOT, so migration to the kitchen is almost always necessary.

What is their favourite sleeping position?

Spooning, or Bucky curled into Darcy’s side using her chest as a pillow and her heartbeat as a steadying rhythm to sleep to.

Who hogs the sheets?

Well, Bucky would, but Darcy isn’t shy about yanking to get her share.

Do they set an alarm each night?

Nope. Bucky’s internal clock is spot on. Darcy probably should set one but meh, sleep is better than punctuality.

Can a television be found in their bedroom?

No - Darcy insists there not be, as she’d never sleep if there was.

Who has nightmares?

Both of them do, but Bucky’s are far more frequent and destructive on him.

Who has ridiculous dreams?

If Bucky has nonsensical dreams, he doesn’t remember them, or doesn’t own up to it at least. Darcy will happily regale him with the strange happenings in her dreams though.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed?

It would be Darcy, except she’s just not that big...

Who makes the bed?

Bucky - that damn ingrained training is still there.

What time is bed time?

Whatever time one of them wants to bed. If neither is particularly keen to hit the hay, they’ll usually head to bed around midnight and sit up reading together, or watching something on a tablet until they do nod off.

Any routines/rituals before bed?

They always say ‘I love you’ before falling asleep. Bucky checks the guns around the bedroom before getting into bed. Darcy always has a fresh glass of water on her bedside table. They both always brush their teeth last thing before getting ready for bed.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up?

Ha, Darcy. She could give grumpy cat a run for her money with the faces she makes when woken up in the morning. Much better to let her wake up naturally - it’s not so bad then.

Work:

Who is the busiest?

Actually, probably Darcy - Coulson has her running around more these days. Bucky keeps busy, but he could just as easily hang around binge watching TV and eating chocolate for days on end if he really wanted to.

Who rakes in the highest income?

Er...Steve? Bucky has a very large amount of backpay from the military tied up in court cases, the military trying to get out of paying out, but basically Steve pays for him. So technically, Darcy currently has the higher income, but payments from SHIELD aren’t huge and come through sporadically, given how much trouble the agency still has just keeping running.

Are any of your muses unemployed?

Technically neither of them is unemployed, but their jobs aren’t exactly on paper, so legally they would both probably be deemed unemployed.

Who takes the most sick days?

Since neither of them can really get sick, and that is well known, neither of them can get away with taking sick days.

Who is more likely to turn up late to work?

Darcy, definitely. She cares more about sleep or grabbing that cup of coffee than being punctual most of the time.

Who sucks up to their boss?

Like either of them ever would. They’re both too strong and sassy to ever suck up to someone just because they’re ‘in a position of power’.

What are their jobs?

Bucky is an Avenger, as required, and Darcy is a SHIELD agent.

Who stresses the most?

Obviously, Darcy - everyone around knows when she’s stressed. But really, Bucky is the worst about stressing out over things. He’s just the best at keeping it under wraps.

Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations?

Honestly, both of them would be happy to turn their backs on spies and violence and war. They don’t despise what they do, because they see the importance of it, but neither really loves their line of work.

Are your muses financially stable?

Frankly, no, but Steve makes sure they’re never wanting.

Home:

Who does the washing?

Darcy does, but it’s part of the bargain - they each have chores they hate and chores they can stand. The agreement is that one will do something hated by the other, and luckily that evens out with most things.

Who takes out the trash?

Bucky. He is a trash panda after all.

Who does the ironing?

Ironing? What is that?

Who does the cooking?

Darcy, mostly. Bucky is learning though, and often helps out with the prep work - Darcy calls him her sous chef, and it works out pretty well for them.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying?

Neither - they are both competent individuals around a stove.

Who is messier?

Darcy, on a daily basis. Bucky has bouts of rebellion against his training and impulses sometimes though, and leaves a mess in his wake. He does clean up after himself too though, when he realises being messy doesn’t make him feel any freer.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty?

Bucky has a couple of times. He doesn’t anymore. The repercussions aren’t worth it.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor?

Darcy takes things off and they just go where they drop or in the vague direction of the hamper. Bucky takes pride in lobbing his dirty clothes right into the hamper.

Who forgets to flush the toilet?

Gross, neither.

Who is the prankster around the house?

There is a mutual agreement following one too many prank wars that got out of control - if they prank, they prank together and they prank others only.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere?

Bucky is very good at hiding the keys when it’s time to go somewhere and he doesn’t want to.

Who mows the lawn?

They have an apartment, not a house, so there is no lawn to be seen.

Who answers the telephone?

They don’t actually have a house phone - that line provides internet and nothing more.

Who does the vacuuming?

Bucky, and only when Darcy isn’t home. The frequency of the vacuums suction hurts Darcy’s ears.

Who does the groceries?

Darcy actually enjoys going grocery shopping, so she takes responsibility for doing the main shops. Bucky is really good about grabbing the smaller things in between though.

Who takes the longest to shower?

Darcy always thought she took the longest showers of anyone, until she met Bucky Barnes. Bucky enjoys the warmth and comfort of a hot shower so much, he just stays put.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom?

Darcy does, but only because she’s expected to have a face full of makeup most days, and slathering that many layers on her face takes time.

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem?

Because of Steve, no. However they’re both aware the money isn’t earned by them, so they’re not splurge spenders by any means.

How many cars do they own?

One. They live in New York, it doesn’t exactly get driven too much though.

Do they own their home or do they rent?

Neither - the building is owned by Steve, so they don’t own it but they don’t pay rent either.

Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside?

Coastal. It’s New York.

Do they live in the city or in the country?

It. Is. New. York.

Do they enjoy their surroundings?

Bucky does. It’s a familiarity he finds comforting. Darcy both loves and loathes it - she’s a city girl, but with her enhanced hearing and sense of smell, the city isn’t so kind.

What’s their song?

Give It Up - KC & the Sunshine Band. Look, it’s not romantic, but it’s still theirs.

What do they do when they’re away from each other?

Usually when they’re away from each other they’re on some kind of mission. It’s a necessity that they push their regular lives into a box in their mind so as not to distract. They’re thinking of home though, and it’s that need to make it back that keeps them in one piece more often than not.

Where did they first meet?

In the Tower, in the kitchen.

How did they first meet?

At two in the morning. She made cookies and then threw one at him after he sassed her. He caught it in his mouth though, which delighted her almost as much as his wit.

Who spends the most money when out shopping?

Darcy, if only because Bucky still has internal wincing at the price of things a lot of the time.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets?

Darcy doesn’t flash anybody, but she has assets and they are there and present. Bucky is the one more likely to wear some good fitting jeans for the purpose of showing off that ass though.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over?

Darcy, if only because she knows Bucky can’t be really hurt from a simple trip, and it happens so rarely - he’s usually conscious enough and graceful enough not to do so, so when it happens he’s usually adorably baffled and bewildered by this turn of events.

Any mental issues?

Bucky has a bucketload.

Darcy has her fair share.

They support each other to make sure each knows they’re not a monster, no matter what anyone or anything else claims.

Who’s terrified of bugs?

Darcy doesn’t like bugs. Not terrified, but she doesn’t want to see them around.

Who kills the spiders around the house?

Steve.

Their favourite place?

Their home, their bed, their world.

Who pays the bills?

...Steve. Bucky swears, if he gets that backpay he’s gonna pay him back. And if he doesn’t he’s gonna get a real job and earn his own way, somehow.

Do they have any fears for their future?

Bucky is petrified of being dragged back into HYDRA and switched back to Soldier mode. Darcy is scared one day she’s going to turn and do something so atrocious she’ll never be able to even bring herself to turn back. They both just live day to day as much as they can, because the future is unknown and overwhelming.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner?

Bucky. Since Darcy usually does the cooking, he’ll surprise her with a meal he’s cooked himself sometimes. His repertoire isn’t huge, but what he does make, he makes well.

Who uses up all of the hot water?

Bucky is guilty of it more often than not.

Who’s the tallest?

Pfft, Bucky is SO much taller than Darcy, it’s comical.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other?

Darcy. For a couple of reasons; sometimes she just needs a shower and Buck has been in there for thirty minutes already, other times… Well, he looks good all naked and wet with suds rolling down his body. Who could blame her for wanting to get a look every once in a while.

Who wanders around in their underwear?

Bucky. Darcy really doesn’t mind.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio?

Darcy, even though she’s not a great singer.

What do they tease each other about?

LIT-ER-ALL-Y EVERYTHING. If there’s a teasing opportunity, it is taken.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times?

Bucky is far more fashionable than Darcy - she has some weird combinations of clothes that Bucky really wishes she wouldn’t leave the house in.

Do they have mutual friends?

Basically all of their friends are mutuals.

Who crushed first?

To this day Darcy believes it was her. Bucky hasn’t fessed up and told her he was loving on her basically from the minute she started making him fresh cookies.

Any alcohol or substance related problems?

Nope.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am?

Neither of them can get drunk, at least not without a lot of intergalactic boozy help, so that is not a situation that has ever happened. Bucky has been dragged home loopy on the really potently good pain killers a couple of times though - luckily loopy Bucky just wants to snuggle and doesn’t last too long.

Who swears the most?

It’s probably Darcy, but there’d have to be some scientific monitoring and measuring to be sure. They could try personal swear jars… But both would cheat and not put money in when they’re supposed to.