rogers-that-cap-blog

[rogers-that-cap-blog]

agxnt-13 :

Time is a warped concept for Sharon. How long has she been confined to her apartment? Has it really been weeks since they placed the ankle monitor on her? When was the last time her hands didn’t ache with a need to be out there, doing something to help fix what she’d done? You’ll stay here until they’re ready to go to trial. There’s a very real chance she’s going crazy. The only thing that helps her is the occasional visits from some of her former teammates: that’s who she expects at her door. Not Steve. Sharon isn’t one to be easily caught off guard, so the wide-eyed stare she gives him for a solid ten seconds is unexpected. Granted, the look is more than warranted: she can’t get over how stupid he is for coming to see her, of all people. She turns away, walking purposefully towards her kitchen but leaving the door open. There’d have been no point in slamming it: he’d come in anyway, and she owes him this, she supposes. Her hands grip the rim of the sink carefully so they won’t shake, and she refuses to look at him. ( “…there’s no way to know what else they planted in there.” ) “You shouldn’t be here.”

He had been trying to get to her for god knew how long. It’s not a good idea, Steve. --- Yeah, well, screw you; I’m goin’ anyways. By all accounts, he had healed. ( If there was one thing Steve Rogers seemed to be good at, it was staying alive. ) He wouldn’t scar, and he couldn’t blame her for what had happened even if he did. Despite that, he knew her scars traveled far deeper than skin, and he hung in the doorway for a moment before following her inside. “And you shouldn’t be locked up,” he returned easily. HYDRA did this; HYDRA was determined to rip them apart at the seams. “This isn’t your fault, Sharon.” 

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“Strongest thing you’ve got,” he returned easily, and although he tried to keep his voice light, to match the smile on the faces of every damn person in the place, it was hard to remember that when the air wreaked of something dark around them. He glanced her way, and the tension in his shoulders loosened slightly at her appearance. ( Bend your knees, Atlas; you aren’t alone. ) “Are we drinkin’ in silence then?” 

How long had she been sitting there? Natasha didn’t know. She doesn’t think she wanted to know, or else it would become painfully clear how much of her night she had wasted.

This wasn’t the type of place where she’d normally spend her Friday evenings, and truthfully, she didn’t have a clear explanation for what drove her there in the first place. Trying something new for the sake of it, maybe — but there was something familiar about this bar. Not familiar in the sense that she had been there before ( and of course not; on any other night, she wouldn’t even dream of stepping foot in such a dingy, loud, poorly-lit building ) but in the sense that there were thousands, possibly millions, of bars exactly like this and filled with exactly the same types of people she would find here. She took the shot of vodka — she had to represent, didn’t she? — she had been turning in her hand; it was her second one that evening, and it wouldn’t be her last.

And then she noticed a figure wandering across the bar, someone who doing an impressive job of blending in. ( Natasha was almost jealous. ) They weren’t attracting attention, no more than necessary, but they stood out bright and clear to her because Natasha noticed everyone. Her eyebrow rose in the tell-tale way that served as both a subtle hint and a warning that Natasha wanted to make everything a little more interesting, and she abandoned her shot glass — the only giveaway that she had been there and occupied that seat at all. With quiet, paced steps, she approached the figure, and stopped by their side. Glancing to them, she leaned forward to prop her elbows on the bar and spoke in her heavy, low tone.

“Good to see I’m not the only one who’s antisocial here. What’s your drink of choice tonight?”

[rogers-that-cap-blog]

bucky-steve-sam :

“they care about each other more than any of the avengers.” — The Russo’s about Natasha and Steve

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insp.

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@sh-peggycarter

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sh-peggycarter :

The days that passed were longer and more drawn than any she can remember ( and not remember ) lying on her own death bed. The tears had stopped within the few hours, her mind consumed with one terrifying scenario played out over and over. How   cruel  of the world, to bring her back to this time and place, with this newly renewed self, and do this. What a deplorable and aching state of things – Sharon must have been somehow controlled, her niece would never – Steve clinging to a life he’d cheated once, and how she   prayed  for a second chance. 

    The first night she spends sleeping in the hard chair next to him, holding his hand, any worry and tentativeness about her physical capabilities forgotten. People come and go, and she spends the second on the couch, nurses putting together something of a bed. A shower in the adjoined bathroom, the arrangement of flowers and get-well wishes that takes the better part of the day. 

And the whole time it feels like a dream, the suspension between two realities where neither quite makes sense. Steve cannot die. This simple fact drives her thoughts, fuels her hope as the scrapes across his face begin to heal – but he stays still and distant, a world away from the world they’re already infringing on. 

Peggy’s head is lulled onto the hospital bed, cushioned on an elbow that connects to a hand whose fingers lace firmly into his. Maybe if she tethers him here, she won’t have to experience his death once more. 

         Then the steady rhythm of his monitor fluctuates - and oddly, entirely unlike the others she’s witnessed and catalogued as normal. Steve — 

    he’s awake and she crawls onto the bed, propriety be damned. “Hush, love,” she mutter, the frantic rush of exhilaration causing the words to tremble, her hands to shake; his eyes are enough, his consciousness is enough, and she avoids putting any sort of pressure on his torso as she leans over him, hand on his cheek, tears dripping down her own from happiness. 

“Oh god,” she cries, leaning her head down against his, forehead to forehead; she’s likely getting tears on his cheeks, in his hair, but she doesn’t think of that - Steve’s alive and she won’t have to bury him again. “You’re alive. 

                     You’re alive.” 

“That’s twice now.” He felt torn between laughing and crying; of course, it’d be Peggy waiting there for him -- he left her once, and she didn’t even have a body to grieve. What had he expected, leaving her twice? “I won’t make you go through this a third time.” It was a promise he couldn’t keep, but it had to be made. 

He brushed a hand through her hair, but beyond his own life ( beyond the tears that threatened his resolve ), there was another worry. “What happened to Sharon? I swear, Peggy, that wasn’t her fault...” His brows furrowed, and he tried to piece together a puzzle that seemed utterly unsolvable. “HYDRA did something to her, just like the Winter Soldier.” 

Even with the drugs still pumping through his system, his gaze was sharp as he looked at her. “Has there been any word? I’ll stand in court if I have to, swear up and down on the Bible that Sharon Carter’s a damn good agent, a good friend.” 

a hurricane, a trickle | one-shot

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chaoshexes :

The days blurred together in some sort of never-ending nightmare. He laid there, still as stone, day after day. She lived in the dark recesses of his mind ( he dreamed. it was the closest she felt to home. ) It was unhealthy. Wholly so. She hadn’t realized how much of her was threaded into him until the moment she discovered him laying in a puddle of his own blood. It was a wonder she hadn’t leveled the city —- the grief turned her insides to ash. It flooded through her. Ruined her. Destroyed her. He still lives. He will survive this.

She’d stepped away for only a moment ( dead girl once again; even dead girls have to eat ) only to come back to a group of nurses talking quietly outside of the room. Her first instinct was panic. He crashed. He’s declining. He isn’t going to wake up. But wait —- there was no fear on their faces. She heard a smattering of words. AWAKE was the only one that mattered.

Walking through the doors to see him upright, the food she’d had in her hands was forgotten and dropped to the floor. As soon as the words rasped from his throat, whatever semblance of control she’d had before flew out the window.

Every word she whispered to his dormant mind wanted to leave her mouth at once. Why did you have to be a hero? You’re strong but you’re human. You cannot leave me. I miss you. I missed you. Home is not home without you.  I love you. I love you iloveyouiloveyou. Instead, a deafening sob broke from her chest as she bowed beside his bed.

-  - Oh, he hadn’t wanted this.

He ached; every piece of him threatened to crumble. Tears, tears for him, had never been something he could abide. He was used to wearing a grin and a taunt -- I can do this all day -- just so none would have to worry about him. How could he do that here, when his thoughts were still cloudy and his memory still fuzzy. ( All he saw was Sharon with the eyes of the Soldier; how many times would his friends forget him? ) How could he do that with her, when she had handed him those fragile remains of her heart? 

Two truths and a lie: it’ll be okay, you love her, you can promise you’ll stay.

“Hey,” he whispered, resting a hand on her back. “I’m sorry ---” No, that wasn’t quite right. He couldn’t apologize for doing what he would have done in any lifetime, in any world. He was sorry for being reckless in his rescue of Sharon ( for failing her ); he was sorry for pulling Wanda close, only to leave so soon ( for failing her ); he was sorry for ending up in this damn hospital bed. “I’m here. Are the others okay?” 

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bloodbuzzedohio :

(x)

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chaosxbound :

The city had turned into chaos – and not of the magical variety, that he could try to understand. No, it was the chaos of pure violence, of how far humans could go to establish dominance. Billy was meant to meet Teddy at the press conference, trapped in one of his little brother’s game, but when he got there it was already too late. Captain America had been shot. Even after a couple days, he still couldn’t believe it. He finally made up his mind to go visit his hero at the hospital, even though he knew he would have to sneak past security. Actually it turned out to be easy with his powers. Billy teleported to a cleaning storage and then slipped into the corridor until he found the right room.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, voice a bit too high. Even after the mission he couldn’t help but be overly excited for their encounter. Thank God, the man was alive. “Sorry for coming in and I’m pretty sure the nurses are going to yell at me, but I needed to see if you’re alright.”

Steve looked in concern that nurses were about to burst in any moment, but when none came, he figured it was a good bet they were safe from it. “You’re welcome to stay,” he offered, settling down once more. ( Despite his best efforts, he truly was exhausted. ) “It’s good to see you, Wiccan, and honest -- there’s no need to worry. Were you there? Did you hear what happened?” They had been dragged far deeper into the pit of trouble than Steve had originally realized, and inadvertently, there was the chance Wiccan and Hulkling would get caught in it too. 

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mulliganiisms :

@rogers-that-cap

When Mr. Steve stopped showing up the day after Captain America got shot, she hadn’t really thought much of it. But then he kept not being there, which she knew was WEIRD, as he was at the gym EVERY TIME she went with Uncle Levi. Despite her mother reasoning that he was probably just busy, Scout just knew something was wrong. She had learned from science that coincidences were never merely just chance, and so she had started to dig. Asking the guys who frequented the boxing section, the manager of that half of the gym, and looking at paperwork she knew she technically wasn’t supposed to, all of which eventually led her to a full name: Rogers, Steven G. 

From there, it’s not hard to find the hospital holding a Rogers, Steven G that was born on July 4, though she does have to fight with the lady at the front desk to be able to see him. 

Only, she’s a little bit nervous: She’s ditching school ( something she’s nEVEREVEREVER done before ) and she doesn’t know if he’d want to see some kid he taught how to punch a little. But she’s here anyways, so with a deep breath, Scout pushes the door to his room open and walks in. 

When no one answered, he turned in bed, ignoring ( as always ) the sting of pain that traveled through him at the movement. It took him a moment to look down as opposed to out in the room, and when he saw the little girl, he felt a pang that traveled a lot deeper than any pain could. “Hey there, kid,” he greeted, each word spoken with care so he sounded far stronger than he felt in the moment. He waved her forward, glad that in the craze of whatever HYDRA had been planning that this one person was left unscathed. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” 

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ofwiidows :

Natasha didn’t scare easily: she’d had that drilled into her from an extremely young age, and it had never changed. Her against thirty armed gunman? Nothing. Potentially getting nuked? Please. Steve almost dying AGAIN, though? That was more than enough to scare her. She’d found the spot exactly between Steve and MJ’s hospital rooms and parked herself there after making sure someone knew to get her the minute anything changed with either of them, and had passed the time trying to ignore the twitchy feeling she always got in hospitals until someone did just that. Seeing Steve awake was enough to vanquish some of the tension from her frame ( he’d looked so dead when they’d brought him in that her heart had forgotten to beat ), and she finally let herself slouch as she took the seat by his bed. She presses her fist to her mouth and just giving him a once-over as to prove to herself he really is going to be okay instead, and doesn’t speak until she meets his eyes. “You know, if you’re going for the record for most near-death experiences, I think you’ve won. You can stop now.”

He almost laughed at her words, although the reaction would make it seem like he was still high on pain killers. ( In truth, the substances didn’t work the same way for him -- meaning, they didn’t work at all -- but she didn’t need to know that much. ) His mile was far closer to a grimace, but the attempt was made all the same for her. “I don’t know; I’m beginning to like the decor in these hospital rooms. Might start dressin’ up my place the same way.” His voice softened, and the teasing tone lessened. “How’s Sharon?” 

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ironandsilk :

It was a sign of just how worried she was that he could clearly hear her, called her in. Elektra disliked it, almost as much as she disliked even being there - hospitals made her nervous, made her antsy in concern. Reminded her how much the resurrection changed her, that many of the hospital’s drugs didn’t work on her, made her wonder if there was something physically wrong with her blood that they could test. That they might see somehow. Irrational, but it itched at the back of her mind. 

But she wasn’t here for her own sake. There was… concern, oddly enough, for the Captain. He was kind enough to stop, to wrap her wounds with his own shirt and to step in for the sake of mutants when he didn’t have to. Generous, one of those people with the light in them, which drew her in. Elektra told herself it was only returning the favor - he cared for her injuries. And he was a valuable figure, at the moment, surely assassins could come and try to finish the job. Hospital security was a joke, so she took it upon herself to act as a guard while he’d been unconscious - hung around nearby, trying to remain mostly hidden and keep watch. But now that he was awake? Well, it was only right to let him know she was there. Polite. Right? 

She entered, trying not to fidget - she’d done nothing wrong, after all. Nothing strange about an assassin trying to guard Captain America and being concerned over him. The irony of it all might actually kill her. “They said as much, out there. Are you - how are you?” The question was awkward, halting, and nervous as she tried to talk, tried to pretend this wasn’t weird. 

Elektra -- of all the people he had expected to see, she had been far from the list. The hospital seemed so at odds with her; in his memory, she was in back alleys and shady streets. The bright lights gave her a semblance of normalcy ( even that rang false ), but he was grateful for her appearance all the same. As strange as their meetings had been, as bloody as her occupation was, he did not fear her intentions. A glimmer of gold in the warrior others had forged of her? “I’m better than I was,” he returned honestly. He had to clear his throat before talking again. “You weren’t injured, were you?” 

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avengingsonofatlantis :

The ruler of Atlantis walked with a purpose that seemed to unnerve the humans that skirted around him. Eyes narrowed, spine straight, shoulders back, and hands curling into fists at his sides like a heartbeat. To hell with the surface. He didn’t very much mind when they took to shooting at each other, but when they took to shooting at one of the very few surface dwellers that he didn’t look at with complete disdain…To say it bothered him barely scratched the surface. Namor pushed through the hospital like a sharp knife and cut a pathway to the door that had a file in a folder outside that read Steven Grant Rogers. Doctors were speaking to him and continued to even after he shot them a sharp glare.

“Cease speaking, I would not waste words with you.”

Perhaps it was harsher than the doctors deserved for keeping the man alive, but in truth, the Atlantean didn’t rightly give a damn. The door handle nearly shattered when he grabbed it and pushed the door open. While the rest of the hospital smelt like medicine and cleanliness, the inside of the room he walked into smelt into only smelt like old blood and saline. He ‘tched’ at the movement on the bed.

“You would do well to not move, Captain Rogers,” he called, voice hard but quiet. He approached slowly and raised a hand, an open palm by his ear. “Your people have just shot you after all. Why you choose to defend them, I will never understand but…” The hand closed into a fist and he shut his eyes, breathing in sharply before releasing. It fell dismissively to his side before he folded his arms. “You are alive. I have known it to take far more than a bullet to even try killing you, let alone slow you. This was not how I expected to see you again.”

The voice was something out of another life -- with the appearance of a calm surface hiding the turbulence beneath, it had been decades since he had heard it. ( Too long, too long, too long; those memories had been shoved to the back of the mind in a gravestone marked for the war. ) “Namor ---” Despite the pain, he sat up slightly, heart rate on the machine accelerating at the gesture and a small, sad smile finding its way to his lips anyways. “I suppose they did,” he allotted, and the questions once more returned to the forefront of his mind. No, it wasn’t just anyone who had shot him; it was Sharon... “I didn’t expect to see you again at all, but I’m damn glad I got this chance. What are you doin’ here?” 

[rogers-that-cap-blog]

simmxnsjemma :

“I’m not the press!” she countered back when three nurses had followed her down the hall. Of course, who would believe that when she was pretty sure a couple of people had tried to trick the nurses. Jemma, however had questions and it wasn’t for the press. Alright, alright so she was slightly interested in meeting the Steve Rogers. Could anyone blame her? Of course, she also had to follow Coulson’s rule and not mention him for one–albeit slightly confused as to why, she kept her promise. Now all she had to do was convince the nurses that she was not press which meant they would be holding all her belongings in case she had some secret camera. After what felt like hours, they allowed her to go on in and once she entered the room, she also noticed how one of the nurses followed her inside. Her attention turned to the male laying in bed just when she heard a barely audible voice. Looking towards the man, all excitement had disappeared and turned to worry. He was everyone’s hero, and to have him hospitalized, then they were indeed facing a dangerous threat. 

“Hi, i’m sorry to be a bother. I’m just–” Well, what was she? A fan? An agent undercover? “–Someone thankful for the things you’ve done.” she says instead. Again, there were ears everywhere. Who was Hydra, who was a dangerous inhuman? Who knew. She just had to becareful. “I can always come back when you’re fully better. I just wanted to be sure for myself that you were alright.” and for the sake of the team, and Coulson.

Steve didn’t recognize the woman, but he had been expecting this -- prepped himself for it. Whether she was an agent, press, another hero... He could handle this. Her words pricked his curiosity, honest as they were, and he tried sitting up straighter in his bed. "No, no, it’s fine.” He’d been smiling through injuries since he was old enough to walk; this wasn’t much different. His voice was still soft, but it was getting stronger with every word ( at least, that’s what he told himself ). “I did what anyone else would do, ma’am, and I promise I’ll live. Did you come by yourself?” 

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natashavevo :

“Take courage, my heart: 

You have been through worse than this.” 

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chaoshexes :

Whatever fear she had was banished as soon as she felt him. The nervous feeling melted away. Her universe was centered, She was home, home, home. It wasn’t that the act meant everything to her —- you could have sex with a million people and never feel a damn thing. It was that this was him, this was them, and it was right. She was vulnerable. He had the power to b r e a k her completely. Wasn’t that a terrifying thing? Ah, but wasn’t it glorious as well? To love someone so completely? Though the words had yet to leave her mouth in their full form, she did love him. She felt it with every atom in her body. She felt it in her bones. She felt it in her chest. With every breath she watched him take, it grew. Love so big that it swallowed her. Love so big it eclipsed all else.

[read more]

“Share a bed before marriage? Now, you’re just talkin’ scandals, Miss Maximoff.” There was a feeling of ease in the air that he could not describe ( oh, he could describe it, but the word stuck in his throat ), and he felt in awe of her still. It was not the power rolling off of her that impressed him, but how human she was. It shined from her: everything good and bad about their species, every vulnerability, everything she was, and she was letting him see it! ( He remembered their first meeting, where he had gripped the weight of the world tightly in his hands, and she had stood beside him, taking some of the weight. ) He pressed a kiss to her forehead, feeling that distant pull of the outside world but choosing to ignore it -- just for one more minute. 

It had to be another five minutes before he spoke again, one more minute be damned. “I suppose we should get out of bed?” It was a halfhearted attempt at best, but no one could say he hadn’t tried. The Sun hadn’t yet set outside, so there was plenty of time left in the day. Distantly, he found himself wondering if it was safe for them to train together again after that, but that was a problem ( not really a problem ) for future Steve. For present Steve, he just had to find the willpower to get up. 

Two truths and a lie: it’ll be okay, you love her, you can promise you’ll stay. 

SEXUAL TENSION | steve & wanda

[rogers-that-cap-blog]

Steve hadn’t expected breathing to become so damn difficult. He hadn’t felt this way since... Well God, he hadn’t felt this way since his lungs rattled and his muscles ached with every step. ( Willfully, he ignored the harm the Winter Soldier had dealt him. ) The nurses fluttered around him like worried mother hens, and no matter how many times he tried waving them off, they only worried harder for it. A hundred conflicting images seemed to crash together every time he closed his eyes, and it pained him. They told him to sleep; he was afraid to close his eyes. At the shuffle of footsteps, he tried to sit up, but even the super soldier could not heal that quickly. “Yeah, I’m awake,” he croaked called out.