#Steven g rogers

[stucky-headcanon-bot]

😠

[burberrycanary]

Hi there! I am about midway through reading your story Lost Vocabularies and it is amazing!! The whole series has been so lovely, I’m obsessed with the way you write! The way that you convey the boys complicated emotions and capture all the little nuances of their dynamic has me feral!! Beyond even them the way you inject so much personality into the locations is so good, I feel like I am there!! So thank you for writing this lovely story 💕 I was wondering if you happen to have a list of all the books that Bucky and Steve read? I have been looking up a lot of them and adding them to my to read list bc they sound so interesting lol! On that same note, how did you decide what books to mention? Are they all ones that you have read or did you do research to find ones you thought they would like?

I’ve been coming back and rereading this kind and wonderful comment in my inbox over the last few weeks when way too many massive, stressful, time-sensitive things were all happening at once. 💕 But since I have a little breather between crazy periods, I get to dive in here as a treat.

Lost Vocabularies involved a lot of research, which I hope isn’t apparent because I didn’t want there to be any noticeable difference between the parts of the story that are based on places I’d been, foods I’d tried and books I’d read personally—and what was created purely based on research. Fingers crossed that the seams don't show!

In this series, we see both Steve and Bucky use art to process—helping them understand themselves and connect to the world again. Bucky is drawn to stories while Steve as an artist is much more visual, but the underlying impulse is similar. In the same way that you learn a lot by glancing through someone’s bookshelves, what characters read is interesting to me, and revealing. This version of Bucky is a very private person so these books offer a glimpse into his inner life. And as the POV character we get to experience all these things alongside Steve.

I’m not much of a sci-fi or fantasy reader so some of Bucky’s picks were a real challenge for me. But I wanted these to be grounded in the characters and the storytelling functions, not based on my own taste and opinions, though of course those always bleed through. 

Steve’s Reading List

The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham

Alice Neel: People Come First by Kelly Baum and Randall Griffey

The Thing on the Doorstep and Other Weird Stories by H. P. Lovecraft

The Beautiful Mysterious: The Extraordinary Gaze of William Eggleston, edited by Ann J. Abadie

One Mighty and Irresistible Tide: The Epic Struggle Over American Immigration, 1924-1965 by Jia Lynn Yang

Bucky’s Reading List

The Thing on the Doorstep and Other Weird Stories by H. P. Lovecraft

A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick

QED: The Strange Theory of Light and Matter by Richard Feynman

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick

Six Not-So-Easy Pieces: Einstein's Relativity, Symmetry, and Space-Time by Richard Feynman

Nonlinear Dynamics And Chaos by Steven H. Strogatz

Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein

I’ve included some notes and commentary on why I picked each of these works under the cut.

The Same River, Twice (The Man Is Still Left with His Hands)

The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham

Classic post-WWII dystopian sci-fi that focuses on society collapsing after a series of catastrophes that were unintentional but very much caused by people, which leads to a lot of the population becoming blind. Thematically this work engages with the loss of identity that people, both abled and disabled, face in the process of survival and a dark look at what happens after societies break down. How this applies to Bucky is obvious, but part of the argument of this post-Endgame series is that it applies to Steve, too. 

Also, there are huge mobile carnivorous plants. 

Fun fact: the opening of this novel is said to have been the inspiration for 28 Days Later!

Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion)

Alice Neel: People Come First by Kelly Baum and Randall Griffey

Alice Neel’s portraits are extraordinary, almost unnervingly vivid. In this story, Steve is familiar with her work as a fellow New York-based artist active in communist circles in the 1930s. She also worked for the WPA, producing wonderful street scenes that documented New York neighborhoods of the era. 

To be honest, I have so many questions about what Steve was up to in the late 1930s before his war mania of the 40s hits.

One of the core themes of this series is Steve struggling with what his body is for if it’s no longer for violence. Who is he if he’s not a soldier? What is his radically changed body if it’s not a weapon? How do you come home from the war?

In this regard, Steve and Bucky have all kinds of shared life experience.

So thematically I include Neel because of her startling gift for capturing personalities and bodies through a process of frank, earnest, truthful observation of the integrated completeness of body and self: this space that’s you. 

But a book of Alice Neel’s work with her sensitive portraits and fleshy frank nudes pulls him into flipping through page after page of these personalities and bodies, not idealized: seen.

Steve isn’t ready for that when he bumps into this big “impractical” art book in a holdover Barnes & Noble in Brooklyn, not when he’s still so shook up and adrift. But he will be.

There’s such empathy and radical humanism to her pieces. “People,” as she famously said, “come first.” I stand by the conclusion that Steve would love her work.

The Thing on the Doorstep and Other Weird Stories by H. P. Lovecraft

Lovecraft was relatively unknown in his lifetime—he died in 1937—but his stories were published in popular fantasy pulp magazines like Weird Tales and Astounding Stories, which is where Bucky would have come across his work. The fact that Steve recognizes Lovecraft by name means that teenage Bucky must have talked about what he was reading and the pulp stories he liked with teenage Steve, which is adorable—“this Lovecraft fellow, Steve, you wouldn’t believe the stuff he comes up with.” And Steve was paying attention enough to remember two decades and change later without the benefit of his serum-enhanced memory, which hurts my heart a little in the best possible way. 

That’s how Steve all these years and decades later is able to wordlessly toss this collection of H. P. Lovecraft’s stories at Bucky on a hot hazy stumbled-upon beach in northern Florida and watch Bucky’s whole face light up. 

And of course Bucky would view Lovecraft as a great beach read 😂

But this is the basis for something I’ve written into this series: Bucky excitedly sharing things he finds interesting with Steve—wanting to tell Steve first, Steve most. And although Steve is quiet, stoical and very self-contained, he’s paying a whole hell of a lot of attention.

Given that Bucky is canonically a Tolkien fan, I think the imaginativeness and ranging scope of Lovecraft’s complex, often interconnected stories would appeal to him. And, thematically, Lovecraft is distinctive for the era for having characters psychologically fragment when confronting these vast inhuman others. 

“The Call of Cthulhu” opens with:

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.

Steve and Bucky have each voyaged out a long way.

Trauma, in a way, is a form of terrible knowledge. You can heal but you can’t unknow things. 

Not Language but a Map (The Grammar of Sensation)

A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick

This is the first book in the series that we see Bucky pick for himself. And, wow, he picks a doozy with themes of multiple and unstable identities, invasive surveillance, manipulation, psychosis, and how individuals can get chewed up by larger systems, falling through the cracks of society. Dick was writing based on his own troubled experiences with southern California drug culture of the early 70s, but this work gets at much more fundamental darknesses that I think would speak to some of the horrors Bucky has gone through and won’t talk about, not even with Steve. 

Within the first few pages, we get this:

It was midday, in June of 1994. In California, in a tract area of cheap but durable plastic houses, long ago vacated by the straights. Jerry had at an earlier date sprayed metal paint over all the windows, though, to keep out the light; the illumination for the room came from a pole lamp into which he had screwed nothing but spot lamps, which shone day and night, so as to abolish time for him and his friends. He liked that; he liked to get rid of time. By doing that he could concentrate on important things without interruption.

The Beautiful Mysterious: The Extraordinary Gaze of William Eggleston, edited by Ann J. Abadie

Eggleston was an early pioneer in color photography and that fascination with color is very apparent in his work. I think this focus would grab Steve as an artist who doesn’t take seeing the full spectrum of color for granted. Even in the MCU’s thin action-film scripts, Steve comments on things that offend his aesthetic sensibilities even when that has absolutely no bearing on the situation at hand, from Stark Tower to Lang’s van.

Not even a world-ending crisis can keep Steve from going, wow, no, that’s ugly. I enjoyed running with that 😂

Steve’s view of Eggleston’s photographs shifts over the course of the series, reflecting what he’s feeling, from the fragmented and disconnected detachment—“isolated and off-kilter”— that he sees in them at the beginning that shifts to the passionate engagement in the world he finds in them later. 

Steve looks through the whole book of William Eggleston’s photographs again and at first the colors still roll over him like the shockwave of a distant explosion, all he can focus on. But gradually the subjects and compositions pull forward, too: monumentalized images of the everyday that at first seem neutral, the work of a detached observer. But the off-center framing of ordinary life is so deliberate as though everything might be important and where every detail deserves attention—that’s nothing like neutral. That’s not detached at all. You have to care a whole hell of a lot.

This mirrors the journey this post-Endgame Steve goes on. Because Steve Rogers should be a character who cares a whole hell of a lot, not what the MCU writers eventually reduced him to. And that’s what this fix-it is trying to fix. 

Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions)

QED: The Strange Theory of Light and Matter by Richard Feynman

I love writing Bucky as a big fucking science nerd. His last night in New York and how does he want to spend the time? At a science fair with his best friend and a couple of pretty girls. So Bucky reading about quantum electrodynamics is delightful to me. The thing is, though, Bucky is a bright enough guy with a high school education. He’s not a genius—and the MCU is lousy with geniuses. But if Bucky wanted to learn a little more about all this quantum stuff he heard about in passing during some vague and very improbable sounding explanations, which by the way also allowed one of the few people still living who truly matters to him and the closest thing Bucky had left to family to fuck off to the past, well, Feynman’s QED isn’t a bad place to start in understanding some of this quantum stuff, at least. 

Feynman here is very much writing for a popular audience. His writing is conversational—the book is adapted from a set of lectures he gave—and his voice is witty, casual and surprisingly light, but at the same time Feynman is deeply invested in helping lay people understand quantum mechanics. The book opens with:

Alix Mautner was very curious about physics and often asked me to explain things to her. I would do all right, just as I do with a group of students at Caltech that come to me for an hour on Thursdays, but eventually I’d fail at what is to me the most interesting part: We would always get hung up on the crazy ideas of quantum mechanics. I told her I couldn’t explain these ideas in an hour or an evening—it would take a long time—but I promised her that someday I’d prepare a set of lectures on the subject.

I prepared some lectures, and I went to New Zealand to try them out—because New Zealand is far enough away that if they weren’t successful, it would be all right! Well, the people in New Zealand thought they were okay, so I guess they’re okay—at least for New Zealand! So here are the lectures I really prepared for Alix, but unfortunately I can’t tell them to her directly, now.

C’mon! Tell me Bucky Barnes would not be hooked by this opening. 

Thematically, and more seriously, the question of how could Steve do this? has two very different meanings. So far in this series Bucky isn’t ready to confront the harder version of that question which comes potentially with some very painful answers: how could Steve make that choice? Nope, he’s not ready for that. Instead, his brain unconsciously takes the easier way out: trying to understand quantum electrodynamics. 😂😭

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick

Bucky must have liked A Scanner Darkly, because he went for another Philip K. Dick novel. Today remembered mostly as the source material for Blade Runner, this bleak dystopian novel is set in the aftermath of a devastating nuclear war that destroys most life on Earth. The work has themes around empathy—who feels empathy and for what?—materialism and what really makes us human. 

I find it interesting how Sebastian Stan talks about The Winter Soldier in terms of someone who has undergone a process of total desensitization, which to varying degrees is deliberately part of the training of all soldiers. But rebuilding his core sense of empathy was one of the things Bucky chose to do as soon as he had any agency in that two-year period where he was on the run, which is remarkable. As a person who has been treated as though he wasn’t human and had his empathy forcibly stripped from him, I think Bucky would have a lot of complicated feelings about the enslaved androids who escape but are ruthlessly tracked down and killed. Some of these escaped androids are dangerous and do lack basic empathy—shown in the book by torturing and mutilating an animal—while other androids seem like ordinary people just trying to live their lives. 

I like that Bucky talks about the book with Steve later in the story, returning in my view to a very old habit of bookworm Bucky wanting to share what he’d been reading with Steve <333

“I need to find something to read next,” Bucky says after wrapping up his description of an imagined religion that involved plugging into a box to virtually suffer the existence of a man forever walking up a steep hill while struck by crashing stones. 

“Well, did the androids dream of electric sheep?” Steve asks.

“Who knows?” Bucky knocks into him gently as he takes the bowl Steve passes over. “They just wanted to be free. Though the free people just wanted to own stuff or plug into a box and suffer. So, you know, sort of a grim outlook. ”

“A little light, cheerful reading.”

“Hey, we live in a world where people write ‘Take back what’s yours’ in the streets and then smash up the windows. Dystopias don’t seem so far off the mark.”

Six Not-So-Easy Pieces: Einstein's Relativity, Symmetry, and Space-Time by Richard Feynman

Another case of Bucky sticking with an author he likes! To me, this implies that Bucky has already read Feynman’s Six Easy Pieces, which explains some of the foundational basics of physics for a very broad and non-technical audience. Six Not-So-Easy Pieces is also drawn from Feynman’s famous Lectures on Physics, focusing here on relativity and space-time, but this work assumes a greater knowledge of math, hence the name. But as a legendary sniper Bucky must have a strong aptitude for math and anyway I just leaned into making Bucky an all-around nerd, because Bucky Barnes, nerd who grew up hot, is delightful to me. 

Relativity, Symmetry, and Space-Time are all on point for a post-Endgame fix-it, which I think should count as a not-so-easy piece in its own right. 

Throughout the series, we see Bucky using physical copies when he reads fiction, more or less from unconscious nostalgia: connecting back to memories of his younger self who was an avid reader of pulp magazines and cheap paperbacks. Once Steve gets him going with that first quietly tossed-over gift, Bucky always carries around a sci-fi or fantasy book in this series despite the limited space in his backpack. And this familiarity wouldn’t just be from his pre-war life since I figure Bucky would have gone for the Armed Services Editions that were distributed for free to soldiers. Bucky likely traded with other soldiers once he finished a book if he couldn’t get a new ASE distribution: trading in his finished novel for a new one is Bucky unconsciously falling back into another old habit.

But for non-fiction, Bucky is absolutely here for the Modern Marvel of being able to carry around as many books as he likes on his phone. I figure Bucky would have used public libraries during certain stages of his recovery when he was homeless and migratory since they are a place to get information that is consistently available in cities; and a warm, quiet place you can go with a minimal number of security cameras. I headcanon a middle-aged librarian who has a few streaks of gray in her dark hair—and who reminds Bucky of someone but he has no idea who—explaining what e-books are to this tall, gaunt, soft-spoken homeless guy with an eye contact problem. And this person who isn’t the Asset anymore and isn’t Bucky Barnes yet has the out-of-nowhere thought: huh, whaddaya know. That’s pretty neat.

Nonlinear Dynamics And Chaos: With Applications To Physics, Biology, Chemistry, And Engineering by Steven H. Strogatz

Isolated systems tend to evolve towards a single equilibrium and these equilibrium points have been the focus of many-body research for centuries. But life is generally not that simple because most systems aren’t isolated. Often the dynamics of a system result from the product of multiple different interacting forces and objects in these systems can change between multiple different attractor wells over time. Or as Strogatz puts it:

As we’ve mentioned earlier, most nonlinear systems are impossible to solve analytically. Why are nonlinear systems so much harder to analyze than linear ones? The essential difference is that linear systems can be broken down into parts. Then each part can be solved separately and finally recombined to get the answer. This idea allows a fantastic simplification of complex problems, and underlies such methods as normal modes, Laplace transforms, superposition arguments, and Fourier analysis. In this sense, a linear system is precisely equal to the sum of its parts.

But many things in nature don’t act this way. Whenever parts of a system interfere, or cooperate, or compete, there are nonlinear interactions going on. Most of everyday life is nonlinear, and the principle of superposition fails spectacularly. 

You can think of nonlinear dynamics as situations in which the sum of the parts is insufficient to understand the whole. This connects to multiple themes in this story as Bucky and Steve try to understand themselves, their lives and each other. But here Bucky is also just continuing to live his best life as a nerd with a strong intuitive knack for math, a high school education, an internet connection and a growing collection of science e-books. Or as Bucky puts it:

“It’s nice, though, like this smart guy is just talking to you but doesn’t assume you’re dumb because of what you don’t know.”

It’s touched on only very lightly in the series so far, but Bucky has a lot of complex feelings about higher education that relate to class, indirectly to sexuality, and go back to the experience of being the son of upwardly mobile working-class immigrants who were very bought-in on a traditional take on the American Dream.

Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein

I picked this partly because I thought the title would grab Bucky, who has been a stranger in a strange land several times over. Thematically this midcentury sci-fi novel focuses on challenging social norms through having the main character, a human who’d been raised by Martians on Mars, come back to Earth as an adult. A best-seller in its day that was controversial for its rejection of Christianity, monogamy and the nuclear family, the work is very tied to the looming cultural changes of the 60s and 70s. 

The novel’s critical reputation has been steadily in decline for decades, but I think Bucky would find it interesting since he grew up within the traditional early 20th-century culture this novel satirizes and challenges—mores that this story’s version of Bucky didn’t unquestioningly accept but didn’t openly challenge, either.

Having Bucky pick this novel reflects the themes for the last act of this story that focus more on Steve and Bucky's different experiences as closeted queer men growing up in a deeply homophobic society. These experiences continue to shape and impact them and yet are also a past these two are coming to terms with and growing beyond. 

Fun fact: this novel coined the word “grok.”

One Mighty and Irresistible Tide: The Epic Struggle Over American Immigration, 1924-1965 by Jia Lynn Yang

Of all the books featured in this series, One Mighty and Irresistible Tide is my top recommendation. This is an accessible, well-written history of a topic that haunts American history: immigration. The specific focus is the waves of legislation passed in the first half of the 20th century that tried—and often succeeded—in limiting who could legally immigrate based on the racial and ethnic hierarchies that equally haunt American history, right down to the foundation. 

In this series, I wanted to pick up the themes of social justice and immigration that were so vaguely and incoherently included in TFATWS. These themes are inherent in the Snap and Return plotline except that Disney does not want to touch any of these politics with a ten-foot pole. But I remain fascinated by trying to wrap my mind around what it would mean for half the population to vanish and then return five years later, catastrophically in both cases. It’s a huge, intricate, sticky, difficult world-building problem that’s inescapably political. 

Steve isn’t quite ready to dive into facing or helping to fix the problems of the post-Return world that his actions helped to create. But here we get to see Steve’s burned-out passion and conviction slowly rekindle as he reads about the complicated and often ugly history of American immigration—and he gets mad about it. Of course, he gets mad about it! This is my answer to the ludicrous idea that Steve Rogers could quietly sit out the second half of the twentieth century. 

At the same time, I can have compassion for Steve knowing he can’t keep going but not knowing how to help himself, only to be given the cursed monkey’s paw of time travel. And he fucks up. His actions have real and lasting consequences. But that doesn’t make the situation hopeless or mean Steve can’t try to repair the relationships he damaged or work to regain the trust he lost, assuming he’s lucky enough to be given another chance by people who love him but have been hurt by his choices.

One of the greatest challenges in writing this Endgame fix-it was accepting Endgame as the starting point of the story and trying to reconcile a character I love with the choices canon has him make. Over the course of these stories, the central point isn’t Steve coming back to Bucky. It’s Steve coming back to himself. Through a slow and painful struggle, Steve finds himself again—rediscovering his stubborn endurance, his compassion for others and his drive to set wrongs right. Steve stumbled, badly, but he gets back up. Because that’s who Steve Rogers is. 

And because of who Bucky Barnes is—his innate kindness, his warm-hearted generosity and his stubborn loyalty that isn’t blind but runs deep—that’s how these two characters come back to each other, after everything.

Deliberately, this series is the first hard-fought and hopeful glimmer in a long trudging process that can get so heavy to carry forward, day after day, but is shot through with moments of beauty and joy all the same. 

I can't go on; I'll go on.

In other words, to quote one of my favorite poets: what the living do.

[plznomonkeys]

Why does everybody write Steve Rogers as a gutless simp?

I mean seriously. Steve is my favourite Avenger by FAR and yet the man with all this fanfiction is always some kinda wimp in them. Blushing, stuttering, an absolute idiot most of the time.

This is not Steven G. Rogers. This is a rose coloured glasses depiction of a war veteran if I ever saw one.

Steve is a man who gave up his life and a chance with the love of his life for his country. He's the man who donated his body to science because he had something to prove to himself and to the world. He's the man who, after waking up in the future, talks about moving on and letting things go. Steve Rogers is a man who went in tights to save his best friend and went into active duty when he didn't need to. The man is a hero through and through.

Steven Rogers is not shy, he's got low self esteem which is a completely different outlook. And what makes him amazing is that even if he doesn't think he's enough, he doesn't run away, he doesn't hide. He knows what he wants and he's not shy about wanting it.

Stop writing Steve Rogers as a man who is bumbling around and embarrassed. He's not embarrassed, he's just not confident that he's enough. But you know what? A guy who's been on his own for a long time has an idea on how to be alone and is probably more comfortable by himself than with a group of people.

Steven Rogers isn't shy, Steve is still just a little guy in that big body. He's an artist who went to war and became harder/tougher from it.

[agentnamed]

@steven-g-rogers continued from here: (x)

Peggy practically melted in Steve's arms, she had never loved another man the way she loved him, so to hear him say he wouldn't change a second of their life made her incredibly happy.

"I love you, my darling. I love you so much."

[gay-jewish-bucky]

G-J-B Fic Rec

A sweet and soft Hanukkah sickfic to warm you up on these cold winter nights.

Rating: Not Rated

Relationship: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Tags: Jewish Bucky Barnes, Catholic Steve Rogers, Sick Fic, Becca Barnes is the best sister, Hanukkah, Christmas, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Domestic Fluff

Words: 4.9k | Complete

“I’m pretty sure he has the flu,” he said. “Normally, I’d make my ma’s chicken noodle, but I know how much he looks forward to Hanukkah and the food, and no matter how hard I try, he always kicks me out of the kitchen—” “Just say you have no idea what you’re doing when it comes to Jewish cuisine,” Becca said. “I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to Jewish cuisine.” Becca laughed. “Do you have a sheet of paper around?”

[delicatebarness]

winters widow | chapter vi

Summary: You are cordially invited to the wedding of Prince Steven of House Rogers and Lady Natasha of House Romanoff.

Warning: Arranged Marriage.

Word Count: 1256

Spotify Playlist | Pinterest Board | Support: Ko-FI

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: I'm very happy for the Romanoff girlies. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Winter’s Widow: @lanabuckybarnes | @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love | @mrsnikstan | @learisa | @railmesebstan | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @barnesxstan | @ghalouha | @mrsstuckyboo | @g-nobody | @mishidrish

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602

The morrow of the wedding dawned with a warm sunrise, a golden hue casting over the capital. Anticipation buzzed around the streets of Brooklyn, decorated with banners and vibrant flowers. Gleaming under the morning light, the palace adorned the colors of House Rogers and House Romanoff. 

Standing in Natasha’s quarters, your heart raced. Your dress was a beautiful masterpiece, with intricate embroidery and the finest silk. It reflected the status and elegance befitting of a noblewoman. 

Yelena helped you with the final touches in your braids as Natasha walked in wearing her wedding dress. It was magnificent, exquisite blends of gold and crimson symbolized the union of the two great houses.

“You look beautiful,” Yelena said softly, her eyes filled with sisterly pride toward Natasha. 

“You too,” Natasha replied with an unwavering smile, she reached out and adjusted a strand of your hair. “It’s a big day for all of us.” 

A knock signaled it was time and Yelena guided you through the grand corridors to the ceremonial hall. Taking a deep breath, the thick air and the scent of blooming roses filled your senses along with the hum of whispered conversations. From all across the realm, noble guests gathered as their elaborate attires added to the splendor of the event. 

The grandeur of the setting took your breath away as you entered the hall. High-arched ceilings draped in silk banners, pews lined with dignitaries and lords, all eyes turned towards the front where the ceremony would take place. Prince Steve stood at the altar, resplendent in his attire, his face composed of joy.

Standing by his side as his loyal companion was Lord James. His gaze met yours you took your place among the bridesmaids, a flicker of warmth passed through his eyes as they widened slightly. You gave him a small, reassuring smile. 

The grand doors opened once more, and the hall fell silent. Natasha, escorted by your father Lord Ivan Romanoff of Belova, entered with grace. Her smile, radiant, lit up the room. You could see the love that had grown out of duty as she approached her future husband. The king and queen, sat with dignified poise as they watched with approval. Their son preparing to take this significant step in life, and for the realm they protect. 

You found your gaze drifting towards Lord James as the ceremony progressed. Standing tall and composed, his eyes occasionally sought yours across the hall. A silent understanding passed between you, each time your eyes met, and your heart would quicken. The vows were solemn as they echoed through the hall, and Natasha held pride in her eyes as she pledged her love and loyalty to Prince Steve. 

When the ceremony concluded, the Grand Priest spoke his blessings, and the hall erupted in applause. Their first kiss as husband and wife was met with cheers. Glancing at Lord James, he was already looking over at you, a soft smile playing on his lips. Returning the smile, you felt a rush of warmth spread through you. 

~

The newlyweds led the procession out of the ceremonial hall, the guests followed as they moved toward the grand banquet hall. The entrance to the hall was flanked by tall candelabras, flames flickering golden glows highlighting the opulence within. Tapestries depicting the histories of both your House and House Rogers, adorned the walls, intertwined in a vibrant display of artistry. 

As you mingled with the guests and chatted with various nobles, you noticed a friendly and familiar face, a face you hadn’t seen since your childhood, approaching. “Little Lady!” he greeted, his smile broad. 

“Scott!” you exclaimed as he pulled you into a friendly embrace, laughter escaped your lips as you let out a breath. “It’s wonderful to see you.” 

As you reminisce about old times, you and Scott fell into an easy conversation. His stories and humor never failed to make you laugh, however as your spirits continued to lift, you were acutely aware of Lord James watching you from across the hall. His gaze was intense. 

He stood with Prince Steve and Natasha, his gaze never faltering off you and Scott. “Who is that?” he asked, his voice low as it betrayed in hiding his jealousy. 

Following Lord James’ gaze, Prince Steve glanced over. “Scott Lang. Lord of a neighboring land to Belova. Married to Lady Van Dyne, I do believe.” 

His expression darkened, and his fingers tightened around his goblet. “What is he doing with my betrothed?” he muttered, possessiveness laced in his tone.

Catching the edge in his voice, Natasha smiled. “Scott has been a friend of our House and to us since childhood, Lord James. They’ve known each other for years.” 

At that moment, you glanced over and caught sight of Lord James’ intense gaze. You offered him a small wave, smiling brightly and reassuringly. The tension in Lord James’ stance and jaw softened in that instant. Returning your smile with a small nod. 

Noticing your attention shift, Scott followed your gaze. “Ah, Lord James,” he said with a knowing smile. “The White Wolf, a formidable warrior, indeed. His combat prowess is unmatched.” 

“Yes, he is remarkable,” you replied, admiration laced in your tone as a blush crept up your cheeks. 

Excusing himself, Lord James’ was unable to stay away any longer. Leaving Prince Steve and Natasha's side, he approached you. Scott gave him a respectful nose as he stepped back, allowing Lord James’ to take his place beside you. 

“My lord,” you greeted him softly, affection shined in your eyes as you met his gaze. 

“My lady,” he replied tenderly. His earlier jealousy was forgotten as his hand found yours, kissing gently against your knuckles.

Couples began to take to the dance floor as the music swelled. He gestured toward the scene before you as he reassured you with a squeeze of your hand. “Would my lady honor me with a dance?” 

Your heart fluttered as you beamed up at him, a wide smile tugged at your lips. “With pleasure, my lord,” you responded. 

Leading you to the dance floor, his hand stayed firm as it held yours. You moved together as the music began to play, you were closer to him than you had been before. Encircling around your waist, the touch of his arm sent a shiver down your spine. The new proximity made your heart race. 

The world around you seemed to fade away into a blur, all that mattered was the feeling of him guiding you. The way his gaze bored into you, an intensity leaving you breathless. His eyes, usually guarded, now revealed a new shade of blue and a depth of emotion that had you in a trance. 

Every turn and step brought you closer, the space shrunk until it felt like you were the only two people in the realm. Heat radiated from his body, and his breath mingled with yours in the shared air. It was intoxicating, the connection and the closeness spoke volumes, all without a word being uttered. 

“You dance beautifully, my lady,” he muttered, his voice a soft rumble as his breath against your ear sent a shiver through you. 

“And you, my lord,” you replied, keeping your voice to a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would break the spell of your moment with him. 

The music began to slow, the dance nearing its end, yet neither of you moved to let go. His grip only seemed to tighten slightly, a plea to stay close and not let the moment slip away. 

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[the-hottest-band-tournament]

Round 8 of The Hottest 80s Band Tournament

Guns N’Roses 

Defeated opponents: ZZ Top, Pantera, A-Ha, The Go Go’s, Fleetwood Mac, Mötley Crüe, Hanoi Rocks

Formed in: 1985

Genres: Hard rock 

Lineup: Axl Rose- vocals 

Slash- lead guitar

Izzy Stradlin- rhythmic guitar

Duff McKagan- bass

Steven Adler- drums 

Albums from the 80s: 

Appetite for destruction (1987)

G N’ R Lies (1988)

Propaganda: “The sluttiest a man can do is be in the Guns’N Roses’s original lineup” 

“Watch this video and tell me slash doesn't have pretty boy babygirl swag”

“Whoo! Time for more Guns N’ Roses propaganda (and by that I mean an excuse to gush about Steven Adler, one of my favorite drummers/people ever)

First off, look at him. This is, and so cannot stress this enough, one of the cutest people I’ve ever seen. Ever. Look at him! (And also, he’s a drummer so he’s fun-size - he is 5’7 at most and at least some of you reading could pick him up)

And he’s one of the greatest and most fun drummers to ever live. I’ve heard maybe 3 other drummers who are as fun to listen to and who have as good of a feel for matching the actual emotion of a song (harder to explain with drumming, but even though they’re both love songs, wouldn’t do the same solos for Patience and Sweet Child o Mine - it’s the same deal here). The demo for Back Off Bitch runs laps around the full version and half of that is because of him.

Izzy Stradlin himself has said that he gave early Guns N’ Roses their feel and that things got weird and “nothing worked” without him (I swear to god that’s a direct quote). You know how hard it is to get a guitarist or singer to recognize and actually admit that? And he’s never made a bad song or sounded boring, and that’s really rare for 80s-era hard rock drummers. Even Tommy Lee’s had his weird songs and I can’t say the same here.

And some bonus propaganda before I write another five paragraphs”

Queen

Defeated opponents: Green Day, Earth, Wind & Fire, The Psychedelic Furs, R.E.M., Duran Duran, INXS, Depeche Mode

Formed in: 1970

Genres: rock, glam-rock, hard rock, pop-rock, pop, disco

Lineup: Freddie Mercury- vocals 

Brian May- guitar 

John Deacon- bass 

Roger Taylor- drums 

Albums from the 80s: 

The Game (1980)

Hot Space (1982)

Flash Gordon (1982)

The Works (1984)

A Kind Of Magic (1986)

The Miracle (1989)

Propaganda: “HAVE YOU SEEEEN THEMMMM???? these men never lost their looks as they aged. smoking hot 20 somethings to smoking hot 40 somethings. in their own words, "we was glam" and "we were all stunning". all four had impeccable style choices 99% of the time, from leather jackets and wraps to monochrome to undone blazers and ties to brightly coloured /everything/. Deacon changed his hair style every few years and even in just tshirts and booty shorts, never missed. Roger had a sleazy mullet and sunglasses for what felt like forever, hot Persian dad, did not miss. Brian forgot how to fully button shirts. bell bottoms. same hair for 50 years. no misses. even after Freddie got sick and started wearing makeup and had to grow a beard to cover up, MAN NEVER FUCKIN MISSED. he was beautiful to the day he died. and thats not even touching on the leather daddy look from the early 80s.king shit. we love wrinkles and laugh lines in this gd house. if they don't sweep I’m blowing this whole website up we was glam”

“a few years back i was obsessed with these guys and i would find it hard to not have a crush on all of them. in the 80s especially Brian was GORGEOUS.. BEAUTIFUL”

Visual propaganda for Guns N’Roses:

Additional propaganda here and here

Visual propaganda for Queen:

[sunvmars]

if i could give you the moon || s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x afab reader

*navigation/directory | request box | taglist | masterlist

word count: 5.5k (of mostly pain)

summary: your relationship with steve is nothing more than a string of lies and promises in a hearty affair, but hope lingers still.

warnings: swearing, angst, cheating, smut (degradation + appraisal, finger sucking, brief spanking, unprotected p in v, brief mention of hair pulling, use of the names ‘dove,’ ‘bunny,’ and ‘slut.')

a/n: highly recommend listening to moon song and/or midnight love while reading this :,)

‘you pushed me in and now my feet can’t touch the bottom of you’

Love is to be experienced as a delicate, never-ending symphony between two souls. Love is supposed to feel like soft sand under your feet, a perfect breeze flowing through your hair, and warm water wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.

But loving Steven Grant Rogers?

It’s sharp teeth sinking into your flesh that gnaw the meat off your bones. It’s total darkness and an unrelenting dagger piercing your very core. The blade twists, somehow sinking deeper with every thrust of his hips and soft groan that falls from his lips. The warm water that’s supposed to comfort you is freezing cold as it pulls you under, water filling your lungs.

“My pretty girl.”

He says it like it’s a title meant for you, only for you.

“Don’t think I could ever get enough of you,” he sighs. His hips drive faster into “Fuck- got such a tight little cunt, dove.”

You croon, your sounds being drowned out by you shoving your face into your soft comforter. You’d wash the sheets in the morning. It’s always less painful after he goes home when there’s no trace of him left behind.

Steve delivers a hard smack to your ass before gripping the aching cheek roughly in his hand. His free hand comes to rest on your hip so he can force your hips back into his to match his thrusts. He slaps your cheek again with the same roughness, desperate to pull more whimpers and moans from you.

His pace quickens, the tip of his cock deliciously hitting your g-spot as he slides in and out of you. “Come on, sing for me, dove,” he demands.

And you obey; loud moans and gasps falling freely from you now. A deep groan emits from the man behind you as your sounds greet his ears. Large hands grip your hips tightly, sure to leave bruises that would have you avoiding mirrors until they disappear.

“Look at that,” he groans as he pulls out of you slowly.

You wince at the obscene squelching noises coming from your sopping heat. He doesn’t notice your discomfort because you don’t allow him to. If he knew about that ache you feel every second of the day that he’s not stretching you out then he’d probably end things for good. Having bits and pieces of him is better than having none of him, you’d decided.

Steve watches closely as he enters you again, speaking through gritted teeth, “So. Fucking. Perfect,” he grunts in between thrusts. “Fuck, I can feel your needy cunt gripping me, bunny.”

“Stevie,” you mewl, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets under you, “Please, please.”

You’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore. More of him? For him to go deeper into you, to fuck into you so roughly that you forget he’s not yours?

His thrusts slow as his hand tangles in your hair to gently pull you up and against his chest. Your head tilts back against his shoulder, your teary eyes locking with his lustful blues. He rocks his hips at a moderate pace like he’s savoring what he can of you. There’s not much to savor though, most of you has withered away and he takes what’s left of you home with him every night. He’ll return tomorrow night anyway, in your bed, to claim what’s left of your hollowed bones.

He coos softly as his eyes scan over your blissed-out expression, “There’s my girl. Always look so pretty getting stretched out by my cock, don’t you?”

Your jaw goes slack when one of his large hands travels down and between your legs to rub circles on your sensitive clit. The fingers in your hair come to rest under your chin, his thumb being placed in your open mouth. He chuckles when you immediately start sucking on it, relishing in the fact that only he could do this to you. Only he gets the pleasure of turning you this cock-hungry and seeing you this desperate. He’d already ruined every other man’s chances with you because, well, they’re no Steve Rogers- nobody is.

If only he’d thought the same about you as you do about him.

His head tilts to the side, his thumb leaving your mouth with a ‘pop’ as his hand makes its way onto the back of your head. He pushes your head so that your lips smash against his. His soft lips move with yours feverishly in a series of sloppy kisses. He kisses you with the same amount of need he always does, but you kiss him with a desire that runs much deeper than sexual. You need him in every possible way he’ll offer you.

His tongue swipes out in between kisses, urging you to open your mouth. For the first time, you allow him entrance without teasing. His tongue explores your mouth Your tongues swirl together as he explores your mouth. The kisses he offers you always have your mind reeling in the most blissful way. You figure it’s because it’s the closest you’ll get to being filled by him completely; his tongue down your throat, his fat cock stretching you so deliciously, him being yours for the time being- even if only for a few hours.

‘you couldn’t have stuck your tongue down the throat of somebody who loves you more’

“Close, m’close, Stevie,” you breathe out against his lips.

Steve pulls his lips away from yours to tsk at you tauntingly, “Are you? You gonna come all over my dick, bunny?” he asks, the circling motions on your clit coming to a stop so he can softly slap it a few times.

The slaps send a sharp tingle through you and your hips jolt forwards slightly, his cock almost slipping out of you. A growl makes its way from his chest and out of his mouth as he slams back into you fully. You pule when he starts to rub your clit again at the same speed as before.

"Such a pretty baby when you take what I give you- squeezing me so tight, s'like you were made for me."

“Please,” you beg, “Wanna come, please let me come.”

“No, you can wait," he orders.

“Can’t, Stevie. Need to finish.”

“I know you can hold it ‘cause only bad girls come without permission- and you’re not a bad girl, are you, dove?”

He would be the death of you. And you were sure of that simple fact.

“N-no,” you whine, the knot in your stomach tightening.

He chortles as your hips move to meet his, “I know you love being bent over like this, like the dirty little slut you are, but I think I want you on top of me so I can see that pretty face when you milk me,” he says with a grin.

You find yourself unable to conjure up anything other than a low hum as he sinfully ruts into you. His movements quicken, the pressure applied onto your swollen bud increasing. Moans and soft whimpers come from between your lips, your back arching off his chest. He doesn’t let you fall though, and his hand that once was wrapped by your hair flies down to your chest to steady you.

Thick fingers dig into your breast as Steve holds you tighter against him. You mewl when he pinches your hardened nipples between his digits. Somehow you’re able to hold your building release as he rolls the peak around, tugging only slightly. His thrusts become unrelentingly fast and the tip of his lengthy cock slams into your g-spot with a force that’s bordering painful.

‘It’s like you were made for me.’

To you, you were made for him. All of him fits so perfectly with all of you, from your witty personality paired with his serious exterior down to how your walls were molded for his cock.

You wondered if he thought she was made for him too.

Warm, salty tears run down your cheeks slowly as you take the pain that he’s unaware he’s inflicting. The physical pain was being dulled by the pleasure, and some nights that used helped the mental pain too, but not anymore. He places soft kisses on your cheek to kiss away the train of tears.

“What d’ya think, sugar? That sound good to you? You wanna bounce on my cock so I can see all of you?” he questions again, his accent becoming more prominent. You don’t respond, still unable to, so he speaks again, “C’mon, dove. Color?”

You manage to breathe out a, “Gre-green,” the first half of the word getting caught in your throat.

“Good, now come sit on my cock,” he demands as he pulls his girth completely out of you.

His hands pull away from your body, giving you just enough time to steady yourself. You whine at the loss of contact as you lower yourself to your knees, trying to catch your breath. The mattress sinks when he sits next to you before pulling his legs onto the bed, careful not to kick you, and straightening them.

Patiently, he waits with his back sat against your bed frame for you to take your spot on top of him. Rarely did he rush you because he always loses track of time when he’s with you. Not that time matters anyway since the woman he truly belongs to had been picking up the night shift for the last few weeks.

You shuffle on your knees to his side and throw your leg over his to straddle him. Steve's gaze never shifts from your face except for once to look at the sight of your dripping cunt being prodded by the fat head of his length. He grunts quietly when you slowly lower yourself onto him, the tightness of your clenched walls almost pulling him all the way in.

Hands make their way up your thighs with one stopping on your hip and the other on your waist. As you continue to sink down, his thumb brushes underneath your breast as it strokes your side gently. You’ve always been able to take him fully, whether with ease, or with a lot of foreplay that he never really minded because he loves to tease you.

“There we go, little bunny. Such a pretty girl, aren’t you?” he coos, the grip on your hip tightening as he bottoms out inside of you.

The bright blue eyes you’d come to love and hate were significantly darkened now. But that wasn’t unusual during times like these, for his usual sweet gaze to blacken and gloss over with lust and desire.

Almost as soon as you’d sunken fully down, his hand moves you around, swiveling your hips in circles. His length stirs inside of you, hitting that familiar soft spot that makes you gasp. A rough hand kneads your breast as he starts to bounce you up and down on his length. The movement is painfully slow at first but builds up speed after a minute.

You moan loudly as you ride him, not bothering to muffle your noises. As much as you don’t wish pain on her, the selfish part of you wants her to walk in on the unholy scene; him plowing into you, his hungry stare glued to your bouncing tits, the lewd noises of skin against skin filling the room. Maybe if she saw you two like this then you could have him. He was amazing, truly, and you know that you’d want him all to yourself if you were her too.

You take control from him for a moment, pushing down on his chest as you move. He allows you to do so, his hips only moving in the same slow swiveling motions from earlier. His dick swirls inside of you as you ride him and it provides an extra sensation that has you whirling.

That knot in your stomach tangles itself up again as you ride him quicker. You lose control of your movements after a few seconds, your hips stuttering as you try to keep a steady pace. Per usual, as he does with everything you do, Steve takes notice of it quickly.

“You close again?” he rasps, although he’s fully aware of the answer.

He takes over again, bouncing you so that his thrusts meet yours in the middle. He’s also knowing of the fact that you probably won’t find it in you to respond, so he speaks once more.

“You can let go for me now. Been such a good girl tonight, you deserve to come,” he praises you, his voice husky due to his own climax approaching.

“Stevie,” you whimper lowly, wanting to come with him.

“I know, dove, s’alright; come for me, promise I’m right behind you.”

The verbal confirmation is all you need to let yourself release. Your body spasms, your vision blurring into a white static as your eyes shut tightly. An embarrassingly crude string of moans make their way out of your mouth and deep grunts emit from his chest as you clench around him.

Both of his hands come to sit on the back of your head and pull you down to his face. His lips press to yours so hard that both of your mouths open, your teeth clashing. The kiss doesn’t last longer than a few seconds before he’s groaning into your mouth. His lips disconnect from yours and he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

The sight of your face twisted in pleasure stuck in his mind, his thick cock still sliding in and out of you, is all it takes for him to let go too. Strings of hot, white cum paint your insides. The warmth of his seed sends a tingle down to your core that only prolongs your orgasm. His thrusts slow almost to a stop but his hips occasionally rut into you roughly as the two of you ride out your high.

The feeling is both sour and sweet because you know he’s going to leave. He’s going to clean you up, either in a quick shower together or with a warm rag, get you some water, and then hold you until you fall asleep. You’re never sure if he leaves when you’re sound asleep or when the sun starts to rise and his fiancé gets off work. All you know is that he leaves, and he’s never there when you wake up.

And that’s what hurts more than almost everything- that you’ll always be right here waiting for the man who’ll never be waiting for you.

'so i will wait for the next time you want me like a dog with a bird at your door’

“Love you, I fuckin’ love you,” Steve moans quietly against your neck, brushing your hair back softly.

Ouch.

Maybe if it hadn't been the first time he'd said the words, it wouldn't have hurt as much. Or maybe it was always going to hurt to hear them because they're always going to be whispered as a secret.

“Steve…,” you trail.

“I know,” he whispers.

He places a few chaste kisses on your neck before moving his head back up so that his forehead rests on yours. Your fingers dig into his hard biceps as you swallow the lump in your throat. Your chests are pressed together, your heartbeat in sync with his. Soft pants fill the silence that's thick in the room.

"Color?" he asks.

"Green."

Your eyes finally open to meet his gaze. His eyes are softened now, perfectly showcasing the soothing waves of baby blue in them. Tinges of regret and disappointment can be seen beneath all the longing and drowsiness in his eyes.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"

You offer only a nod in agreement before pulling off of him, his semi-hard cock sliding out of you. He slides off the bed, leaning down to pick up his clothes. You come to stand beside him as he pulls his boxers up, looking up at him affectionately. He then slides his shirt onto your form with ease before helping you pull your arms through the sleeves.

The shirt smells just like him, an intoxicating musk paired with amber and sandalwood. You exchange a knowing, grateful glance with him and he returns the look with a smile. He laces his fingers with yours and leads you to the bathroom in your bedroom.

"D'ya want to take a bath with me tonight, dove? You might be sore tomorrow," he says.

You're almost starstruck by his question. A shower together wasn't uncommon if he had the time to spare, neither was him running you a bath if he was running short on time, but he'd never asked about a bath together before. You'd never thought to ask about it before either, deciding the act was too romantically intimate.

"You'll take one with me..?"

"'Course I will, bunny," he replies, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly, "Is that a yes, then?"

He waits for you to hum a soft 'mhm,' before turning the water on. You sit on the closed toilet as he glances down at you. Without taking his eyes off of you, he leans down to pick up your favorite vanilla bubble bath soap. Only then does he look away from you to pour a decent amount of soap under the running water in your large tub.

Most nights, he wouldn't dare use your soap, let alone bathe in it. It was almost as if he was starting to care less and less about covering his tracks. But you knew that wasn't true and he'd probably just wash your scent off as soon he got home.

Steve sat himself on the edge of the tub next to you, one hand on your thigh and the other swirling the soap to create more bubbles. The first time he'd done this for you, you told him you liked a lot of bubbles, and he remembered that. He always remembered the things you like.

You continued to watch him while the water rose in the bathtub. When it was considerably full with the warm water and thick vanilla-scented froth, he stood and offered his hand to you. A smile graces his lips when you place your hand in his. Once you're standing, he pulls his shirt over your head and helps you lower yourself into the water. The bubbles embrace you as you scoot up to give him enough room behind you.

He joins you only a few moments later, his legs stretching out on either side of you as he pulls you into his lap. His strong arms wrap around your midsection tightly and you melt into his touch. Your eyes close in contentment, your head tilts back to rest lazily on his shoulder.

A chuckle rumbles through his chest as he places a kiss on your temple. Your face nuzzles into his neck to place a soft kiss at the base of his throat.

"You comfortable, dove?"

"More than," you whisper, lost in the feeling of his embrace.

"We can stay like this for as long as you want," Steve replies as he glances down at you, "I promise."

Does he do this for her too? Touch her with such a tenderness that you can’t help but swoon at? Whisper soft, sweet nothings into her ear that would make anyone weak?

Only a few beats of silence pass before he speaks again, "M'gonna give you the world one day," he murmurs, "You're my sunshine, you know that, right?"

'and if i could give you the moon i would give you the moon'

The unusual affectionate sentiments throw you off. It wasn't odd for him to be sweet to you, but it was different for him to be expressing it so verbally. He usually preferred to show his affection towards you in more physical ways- it used to be easier that way. While the words are nice to hear, silky as they roll off his tongue, they sting a little. As far as his loving nature goes, you would never be the first to hear the loving words he spews.

Your heart clenches, but you respond nonetheless, "And you, mine," you whisper back.

Minutes pass by as Steve holds you close in the water, the fragrant bubbles surrounding you both. It's a moment of tender vulnerability that you don't get to share with him often. His whispered promises pierce you, leaving you both longing for more, and you wishing for a future where these moments with him are reserved for you. He's like broken glass slipping through the cracks between your fingers, and you're like water in his hands.

Steve began to gently wash your body, his touch gentle and filled with care as he ran the soapy loofah over your skin. He always knew how to soothe your aches from the physical exertion, but the emotional weight of being the other woman was untreatable. His hands moved in soothing circles, kisses raining down on your shoulders and neck. Occasionally he mumbles little praises like 'my pretty dove,' and 'such a cute little bunny,' in your ear.

"Gonna miss you tonight," you admit as he rinses the loofah in the water.

He pauses briefly before rinsing the bubbles off of you, "I know- I miss you every night, dove."

'Then stay,' you want to say- but you don't.

"But you know I'll always come back to you, right?" he adds, "And even though I leave, my heart always stays here with you."

You want to say more but instead hum another low 'mhm', reaching forward to pull the plug from the drain. The water, tinted slightly white from the bubbles and soap, spirals down the drain. Steve helps you stand and steps out of the tub, grabbing a towel for you and one to wrap around his waist. He cocoons you in a fluffy, plush towel, his touch lingering as he dries you off. Then he dries himself off just enough to throw his boxers back on before taking you back into your bedroom.

"What're you wearing t'night, bunny?" he inquires, leading you to sit on your bed.

He shuffles over to your dresser, awaiting your answer. When he doesn't receive a response, he cocks his brow up at you expectantly, and you shrug back at him.

"Black lace," you finally respond, "And your shirt..?"

When he doesn't answer immediately, nerves pool in your stomach as a manifestation of your worry that you've crossed a boundary. Steve glances at you and a storm of emotions swirl behind his deep blue eyes for a moment. The room feels heavy, the air being replaced with thick tension and unspoken thoughts.

"Sweetheart, I don't know if that's a good idea tonight," he sighs, his head lowering to avoid your gaze.

How silly of you to think you could keep a piece of him here. His bits and pieces you thought you got to keep were reserved for her too, now that you think of it. You merely got her scraps. But he's her fiancé, so what else could you have expected?

"It's alright, I'm sorry," you say, mumbling the added, "Don't know why I asked anyways."

A frown makes its way onto his face, "Bunny, please don't do that,” he coos as he grabs your lace panties from the drawer.

"Don't apologize to me." Steve's eyes soften as he walks over to you, his hand delicately lifting your chin to make you meet his gaze. "You can have my shirt."

"Steve, really, it's-"

"You can have it. I know it's hard not having any piece of me here, I feel the same way when I'm without you, my sunshine," he admits with a soft smile.

"Thank you," you whisper, thanking him for both the offer and the vulnerability he gives you.

His hands cup your cheeks, one thumb brushing your cheek. He presses his lips to yours without another word. The kiss is slow and chock-full of passion, a silent promise of the love he feels for you. You practically sink into the feeling of his lips on yours, cursing whatever force brought you into his life after he met her.

When he breaks the kiss with a soft sigh, forehead resting on yours, you open your eyes. You stare longingly into the familiar seas of blue, getting lost in them. You start to feel like you're drowning again, but, this time, the sinking is caused by the way he looks at you.

'you are sick, and you're married and you might be dyin' but you're holdin' me like water in your hands'

Your body shivers as your air conditioning turns on. He walks to the bathroom to grab the shirt then slides it over your shaking form.

“Better?” he asks softly.

“So much better,” you reply with a yawn, savoring the scent of him on his shirt.

Steve tilts his head in adoration, “I’ll get dressed and we’ll go to bed, okay bunny?”

You nod in agreement then push the disheveled comforter to the far side of the bed. Steve slides back into his pants that were long forgotten earlier in the night before turning to face you. He watches affectionately as you scoot backward on the bed to lie down, a smile threatening to force its way onto his face.

Once you're settled in comfortably, he takes his spot next to you and pulls you into his side. His heart starts to beat a little faster than usual when you lay your head on his chest. A strong arm wraps around your waist to hold you as close as possible, his other hand stroking your hair back in a soothing manner.

Your bedroom is enveloped in an aching silence as Steve holds you as close as possible. Time always seems to stand still whenever he holds you. The only reminder of the outside world's existence is the impending, and unavoidable, separation soon to come that weighs heavily on you. The weight is heavy on him too, but he'd never tell you just how heavy it is for him.

His chest rises and falls with each steady, slow breath he takes. You can feel and faintly hear his heart beating just beneath your ear, a bittersweet reminder that he's real and actually there- that this isn't just a dream.

The room is bathed in a soft glow from the moonlight filtering through your curtains, creating a serene ambiance. It's a serenity that doesn't feel deserved, a stark contrast to the guilt and longing that nip at your flesh.

Steve breaks the silence, "I do love you, you know," he admits in a whisper.

"I know," you reply with an equally soft tone, "and I love you."

"You're my everything," he promises.

"I wish I could be."

"You are," he says reassuringly, "Bunny, you mean everything to me. Please don't ever doubt what I feel for you."

You squeeze your eyes shut tight in an attempt to hold back the tears that long to spill over. You've heard these words before, but tonight they feel more real. Maybe they feel more real because they're only spoken in this intimate space that you and Steve created.

"But you go back to her every night," you mumble, half hoping he didn't hear and half hoping he did.

His movements still, his body tensing for a moment. He heard.

He sighs deeply, "I have to, dove, you know that. But I promise that one day, soon, we won't have to hide. You deserve more than this and I'm going to give you more. Just hang in there for me a little longer."

You want to believe him. You want so badly to believe the promises of a future he's selling you, but you can't. If you give in to all of the promises and all of the desires, what do you have left to keep you grounded? Why gamble in putting your trust in something that's nothing more than an idea?

"I won't ask you to leave her, but who do you want, Steve?"

He pauses as if thinking about his answer, "You. It's always you."

"Then why does it hurt so much?" you whisper with a trembling voice.

His hold on you tightens, "Because you're a good person. Loving you is the most beautiful but agonizing thing I've ever felt, and I can't keep hurting you. I'm going to fix this, okay?"

When you don't say anything, he speaks again, "I wouldn't promise you something I can't keep. Try to get some sleep for me, bunny. I'll be back tomorrow, just like always."

There's a quiet, unspoken understanding between the two of you. For now, you close your eyes and find comfort in his presence and warmth. The soothing feeling of his hand in your hair and arm around your waist puts you to sleep rather quickly. You always fell asleep faster when he was here, and you probably always will.

Steve stares down at your peaceful, sleeping form for about an hour after you fall asleep. His eyes trail over the face he's come to never stop thinking about. From the very moment he wakes until the time he sleeps, he's thinking about you. You never slipped his mind and it didn't seem to matter whether he was with you, her, or by himself.

Of course, he'd never pegged himself as the selfish type, but he was, and he knew it now. He knew it was selfish of him to keep you and her, but he'd be selfish even if he ended things with you earlier since he would always come back to you. Now he was in too deep and it was simply a matter of who he had to hurt; nobody could come out unscathed at this point.

"God, I love you," he murmurs, his statement falling on deaf ears.

He gently lifts your head off of him and onto your pillow before slowly getting out of your bed. After he stands, he tucks you in under your comforter. The room is quiet aside from your soft breathing as he pulls his flannel on, buttoning it up to cover his naked chest. He pulls a little box from his pants pocket and adorns you with the gift he bought for you. Steve takes a brief second to memorize your expression before he turns to leave. When he slips out of the room, he can't help but feel the guilt of the choices and promises he's made.

The door clicks shut behind him, waking you slightly. You notice that his warm figure isn't under you anymore. You'd expected it, but it hurts nonetheless. So, you drift back into an almost restless sleep, hoping to wake up from the cruel dream where the man you love isn't truly yours. A small and irrational part of you prays that when you wake up you'll be in the future; a future where your love can be more than a symphony in the night.

'when you saw the dead little bird, you started cryin' but you know the killer doesn't understand'

When you wake, thick sunlight pours through the blinds and curtains. The morning sun that you used to love waking up to is now just a brutal reminder that another night has passed, and you're still waiting. You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and trying to reorient yourself. The emptiness in the room bathes you in loneliness.

As you stretch and get ready to get up, the feeling of something cold sliding around your neck makes you pause. You look down to find a delicate rose gold chain with a small pendant. Your brows furrow in confusion as you pull it up closer to your face to observe it. There, hanging from the chain, is a matching rose gold locket. The locket is heart-shaped and detailed with intricate lace patterns. It opens with a tiny latch to reveal, what you assume is, space for a small picture.

Your heart flutters as you realize it's a gift from Steve. Gently, you open the locket to find a tiny 's.g.r' engraved on the empty side and a small photograph of the two of you on the other. It's a candid shot, and your favorite picture, from a few months ago. It was taken by Bucky when the three of you went to get ice cream in the park after a four week-long mission. The photo captured a moment of genuine happiness on both of your faces, only weeks before Steve made the first move on you.

Tears spill freely from your eyes as you smile down at the locket, closing it in your hands. A knock sounds at the door, pulling you out of your thoughts. You sniffle and wipe the tears from your eyes. Your legs fling lazily over the edge of the bed and you make your way to the door.

"Coming," you call out.

You open the door to find Steve standing there. His hair is messy, his hand still running through the damp strands, and his eyes are slightly red. Your eyes widen a little at his disheveled state.

"Steve? What are you doing here so early, are you okay? I-"

"I told you I would fix it, and I did," he states, "I choose you- I want an honest life with you and I always will."

taglist:

@pigeonmama @rogersbarber

if you'd like to be to my general taglist (for steve rogers and other non-chris evans characters i write for), feel free to ask or visit my taglist form to be tagged in more specific fics :)

[stucky-headcanon-bot]

😼

[burberrycanary]

Not Language but a Map (The Grammar of Sensation) ∘ a Post-TFATWS Fix-it

Stucky, Endgame Fix-it, Road Trip Get Together

Indirect light fills the bedroom with a pearly glow, reflecting off the courtyard walls outside where more of those tangling vines with hundreds of pale star-shaped flowers trail down. They must’ve forgotten to close the curtains after eating room service late in the little private courtyard covered with blue-and-yellow tiles as Bucky lounged in one chair with his bare feet kicked up on another, wearing only those dark sweats low on his hips.

Now, heavy and warm with sleep, Bucky sprawls out against his chest; Bucky, who came back to his bed at some point in the early morning.

Steve skims his knuckles down the long dip of Bucky’s spine: his walking-around miracle, his bad penny.  

Read Chapter 7 on AO3

Only the epilogue left to go in this part of the series!

[firestorm-heroes]

@steven-g-rogers

Layla charged through the door with her phone blasting an edited song clip she'd found, or possibly made, where instead of Britney, it said "it's your birthday, bitch"

"STEEEEEEVE!" She stood in the doorway, nearly bouncing on her toes with excitement of some sort. "Steve Steve Steve."

[agentnamed]

@steven-g-rogers liked for a starter with expecting Peggy

"You feel that?" Peggy asked pressing his hand to the swell of her pregnant belly, where their baby was currently kicking and moving around.

"That's our little miracle, Steve. They started moving around like that when you started talking... I think they like the sound of their daddy's voice."

[xoxobuckybarnes]

May 2024 Reading List

Completed

Mine is the Shining Future (Rated: E, Words: 48K) by brideofquiet / @bride-ofquiet

Summary: He could have a life here, but what would it be? He could be a grocer; he could marry a girl who remembers hearing his name on the prayer list nearly every Sunday mass. He could fill sketchbooks in his spare time and stuff them into a trunk under his bed when he’s exhausted their pages, never to be seen again. He could live and die on Friary Street. It would be a fine life, if a simple one. Something similar was enough for his mother. It should be enough for him, too. Is it? In late summer of 1937, Steve Rogers immigrates to America.

Somebody to Loveverse (series) by @deepspaceprincess

Somebody to Love (Rated: E, Words: 27K) Summary: Natasha sets Steve up with at home cooking lessons when he botches Sunday night dinner. Steve isn't actually that reluctant, especially when his teacher is so easy on the eyes. Hard Days Night (Rated: E, Words: 3K) Summary: Steve comes home from an extended mission to find that Buck waited up for him.

That's What You Get For Waking Up in Vegas (Rated: E, Words: 96K) by Oh_i_swear / @oh-i-swear-writes & ThePirateStorm / @fsbc-librarian

Summary: An Avengers fundraising event in Las Vegas takes a left turn, and Captain America wakes up with a brand new spouse and no way to get a divorce. Coupled with Tony Stark's current obsession with reality dating shows, obviously nothing can go wrong, right Bucky Barnes isn't even Tony's PA - Pepper is his actual boss - and he does not have time to even date anyone, let alone be married to one of the most famous people in the world, especially not with a sick sister and precocious niece at home depending on him. He just needs to keep his head down, and wait it out til they can get a divorce. Easy, right?

I Know You Don't Sleep At Night (Rated: E, Words: 62K) by @humapuma

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a high class call boy working for Red Room Escorts. One night, while out with a new client, he witnesses a murder. The detective who interviews him is big, blond, and beautiful, and makes Bucky want things he shouldn't. Little does he know, they've met before. Steve Rogers is a detective in Brooklyn, called to investigate a murder at a nightclub. The witness he's told to interview is a hooker. When Steve enters the room, he can hardly believe his eyes. Bucky is lithe and beautiful, even at four in the morning after witnessing a homicide. He knows the witness and the rules say, he must recuse himself from the case. How many rules is Steve willing to break to keep Bucky safe? Every. Single. One.

Transcript: Steven Rogers and James ‘Bucky’ Barnes' appearance on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert, February 4, 2017 (Rated: G, Words: 2K) by deliciousblizzardshark

Summary: Rogers: Nice to meet you, Stephen. Colbert: And you, Steven. Rogers: The future is so touchy-feely. Colbert: Is that right? Rogers: Yeah, people are always hugging each other. In my day we avoided physical contact. Colbert: Yeah? Rogers: Didn’t want to catch Polio. Colbert: Oh, are we at the joking about Polio stage of the interview already? That was fast. Rogers: I like to cut to the chase.

You remember that time? (Rated: T, Words: 3K) by kingandlionheart / @steveybucky

Summary: “You remember that time we had to ride back from Rockaway Beach in the back of a freezer truck?" Steve gets jealous, buys his weight in hotdogs, and cuddles in the back of a freezer truck.

Steve Rogers. Cheerfully Slutty. (Rated: E, Words: 20K) by @relenafanel

Summary: Steve Rogers. Cheerfully Slutty. But not going to take your shit about it. Bucky Barnes. Voted most likely to fall in love first.

1A (Rated: E, Words: 27K) by tinzelda

Summary: Steve and Bucky are together before the war. Kind of. Bucky sure wants to be—he knows how he feels about Steve. Steve, however, hates that Bucky has to take care of him, so he can’t give himself over to the relationship. Steve desperately wants to enlist, but when he finally gets that 1A stamp, it isn’t the validation he thought it would be. When Bucky sees Steve transformed, he thinks he’s lost him for good, but Steve needs Bucky to look after him more than ever. He drives himself hard to feel worthy of being Captain America and keeps just enough distance between them to drive Bucky crazy. In other words, Steve still has something to prove, and Bucky has the patience of a saint.

[gay-jewish-bucky]

G-J-B Fic Rec

A beautiful and emotional golem!Bucky fic following the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier about what it means to protect your people and what it means to become human again.

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationship: Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes

Tags: Jewish Bucky Barnes, Dehumanization, Loss of Identity, Amnesia, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, of OCs, Antisemitism, Hate Crimes, Jewish Culture, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm

Words: 3.6k | Complete

It finds a quiet place and looks into the reflective window. With one finger, it inscribes the word emet, carefully, one letter at a time. It is difficult to remember, it is difficult to do. It is the word that is meant to be there, it will protect against the lies in its head, it will make its purpose clear.

[userpeggycarter]

how to seduce Agent Carter, according to Steven G. Rogers.

↳ for the 2022 Steggy Secret Santa. happy holidays, @pegsccarter! ❤️

[sweetiebarnes]

Somewhere in the multiverse, attorneys Steven G. Rogers and James B. Barnes are working together to win a case.