◜later that night, after this◞
[ The lingerie thing had become some kind of inside joke between Steph and Nat by now, and that had been what prompted the blonde to actually shop for some nice ones for her birthday. She didn't really like celebrating her birthday. Or spending for herself to celebrate her birthday, for that matter. But Nat had, little by little, through all the teasing, taught Steph to accept and appreciate her body, something that the blonde had grappled with for a very long time.
That, and her sexuality. Not that she was a stranger to sex, but she'd been clamping down hard on the fact that she liked women more than men — especially those dark-haired badasses with red lips and sexy accents — even if she knew that it was more acceptable now than it had ever been. She and Nat had bantered and flirted, with the occasional teasing touches and stolen kisses, but tonight they were about to cross a line, into something more.
It's just sex, she tells herself, though deep down she knows she's already got it bad and it's only a matter of time before she'll get her heart broken again. But she can deal with that later. It's her birthday, and, for the first time in years, she's going to damn well enjoy it.
She's moved a chair into the bedroom, facing the bed. She makes Nat sit on it, then she drops a sketchpad and a pencil on the redhead's lap with a grin. ]
You're gonna draw me like one of your French girls.
[ Then she steps back, opening her robe slowly and letting it drop to the floor at her bare feet — with the confidence of someone who's done it before, but, well, if the USO tours have taught her anything, it's to fake it 'till you make it. Nat's favored lingerie looks even better on her than the model she'd initially shown Nat photos of. ]
How do you want me?
[The subtle attraction to Steph had caught Nat by surprise. For the most part, she was far more attracted to men than women. Now and then, a lovely woman would turn her head, and she might appreciate her beauty, but never did she think about a relationship. Hell, Nat didn't know about relationships in general. She wasn't good enough for them.
She'd spent the majority of her life doing terrible things, and now was her time to make up for it. This was her focus. Sure, she still used her body now and then for a mark, because that's a part of what she was taught to do. Sex was something to be used for work, or to scratch an itch. The last thing Nat figured on was Steph.
Slowly, ever so slowly, their banter drew down her barriers, and Steph became a true friend. From there, Nat revealed how she felt about herself and how unworthy she was. Steph helped her find the smallest amount of self-worth, and from there things blossomed. Nat found every part of Steph stunning. She held an ethereal beauty like no one Nat had ever encountered before.
It had taken a long time to come to this meeting, and for them to take this step. It was the opposite of how Nat normally ran. She was nervous. When she was taken to the bedroom and sat in a chair with a pad and pencil, it made her even more nervous. She wasn't the best artist. However, seeing Steph step out of her robe was the most inspiring muse there could ever be. Breathtaking. ]
I've never drawn a French girl, but I'll draw you. My god, you are a goddess in that.
[Thinking shortly, Nat tipped her head this way and that. She got up and piled up some pillows at one side of the bed.]
Put your head on the pillows, and arch your back. You can take breaks to breathe and relax when you need to, but keep your knees up. Place one hand on your thigh and the other on the side closest to me-- Keep your leg lower and slide your hand into those panties. I want to draw you masturbating.
[ooc: a little like this img, minus the front leg being lower and her fingers dancing dangerously draw me like a french girl ]
She'd spent the majority of her life doing terrible things, and now was her time to make up for it. This was her focus. Sure, she still used her body now and then for a mark, because that's a part of what she was taught to do. Sex was something to be used for work, or to scratch an itch. The last thing Nat figured on was Steph.
Slowly, ever so slowly, their banter drew down her barriers, and Steph became a true friend. From there, Nat revealed how she felt about herself and how unworthy she was. Steph helped her find the smallest amount of self-worth, and from there things blossomed. Nat found every part of Steph stunning. She held an ethereal beauty like no one Nat had ever encountered before.
It had taken a long time to come to this meeting, and for them to take this step. It was the opposite of how Nat normally ran. She was nervous. When she was taken to the bedroom and sat in a chair with a pad and pencil, it made her even more nervous. She wasn't the best artist. However, seeing Steph step out of her robe was the most inspiring muse there could ever be. Breathtaking. ]
I've never drawn a French girl, but I'll draw you. My god, you are a goddess in that.
[Thinking shortly, Nat tipped her head this way and that. She got up and piled up some pillows at one side of the bed.]
Put your head on the pillows, and arch your back. You can take breaks to breathe and relax when you need to, but keep your knees up. Place one hand on your thigh and the other on the side closest to me-- Keep your leg lower and slide your hand into those panties. I want to draw you masturbating.
[ooc: a little like this img, minus the front leg being lower and her fingers dancing dangerously draw me like a french girl ]
[ Steph did as she was instructed — a little self-conscious at first, and a bit more nervous when Nat guided her into position, the other woman's touch almost electric on her skin. She was much stronger than the redhead, sure, but she felt like Nat could break her anytime, or turn her into a helpless puddle.
She laughed when Nat revealed what she wanted to draw, her cheeks flushing darker. Her hand rested on her belly, fingertips skimming the elastic band of her panties. ]
Do you want me to actually touch myself, or...?
[ They both knew they weren't really here for an art session. And while Steph had never masturbated in front of anyone, she wasn't about to back out now that they'd gotten started. It was a testament to the influence Nat had on her, how the redhead had helped her love her own body. Now it seemed like Nat was going to teach her how to love sex, too. ]
She laughed when Nat revealed what she wanted to draw, her cheeks flushing darker. Her hand rested on her belly, fingertips skimming the elastic band of her panties. ]
Do you want me to actually touch myself, or...?
[ They both knew they weren't really here for an art session. And while Steph had never masturbated in front of anyone, she wasn't about to back out now that they'd gotten started. It was a testament to the influence Nat had on her, how the redhead had helped her love her own body. Now it seemed like Nat was going to teach her how to love sex, too. ]
"Well, that concludes the grand tour..."
By now Steph was used to Thor coming and going, and that he would be back when he was needed, but she still couldn't shake the strange, hollow feeling his impending departure had already left in her chest. She'd shown him around the new Avengers compound and told him about the recruits, but all she really wanted to do was give him a long, tight hug in farewell, and maybe even kiss him.
It was Bucky-leaving-for-the-war all over again. She didn't like it, but what could she do?
"I could tell Fury to save a room for you. It's not like you're not officially part of the team." Alas, Steph's bravery and recklessness did not extend to confessing her feelings to the men she liked. It was all those insecurities she'd had growing up. How could she even think that a literal god would take interest in her in any capacity other than friendship?
By now Steph was used to Thor coming and going, and that he would be back when he was needed, but she still couldn't shake the strange, hollow feeling his impending departure had already left in her chest. She'd shown him around the new Avengers compound and told him about the recruits, but all she really wanted to do was give him a long, tight hug in farewell, and maybe even kiss him.
It was Bucky-leaving-for-the-war all over again. She didn't like it, but what could she do?
"I could tell Fury to save a room for you. It's not like you're not officially part of the team." Alas, Steph's bravery and recklessness did not extend to confessing her feelings to the men she liked. It was all those insecurities she'd had growing up. How could she even think that a literal god would take interest in her in any capacity other than friendship?
"No, yes, it's very nice! It's a quaint building," Thor commented, more just in case Tony was listening and could hear Thor refer to the building that way. But it was certainly a nice facility and he knew that Steph was excited to be able to be here with the recruits and get them ready for being an Avenger. And there was no one better to do so than Stephanie Rogers. He hoped she knew that. Of course she knew that, right?
She probably knew all sorts of things. Things that... didn't necessarily need to be said but were understood, right?
But if that was the case then how come he ached when he thought of leaving like he knew he had to? Or at least should. He'd had comrades before. Beautiful ones. But Steph was... different. She was soft but strong, brave but honest, all sorts of things that shouldn't be possible but were because they were her.
"And I'm sure when I come to visit I'll find a place to stay. I... I do hope that I can come visit. Often. You know. Inspire the new recruits."
She probably knew all sorts of things. Things that... didn't necessarily need to be said but were understood, right?
But if that was the case then how come he ached when he thought of leaving like he knew he had to? Or at least should. He'd had comrades before. Beautiful ones. But Steph was... different. She was soft but strong, brave but honest, all sorts of things that shouldn't be possible but were because they were her.
"And I'm sure when I come to visit I'll find a place to stay. I... I do hope that I can come visit. Often. You know. Inspire the new recruits."
◜continued from here◞
[ Typing...
Typing...
Typing... ]
Why would I have said anything? I know when I'm out of my league. People said that to my face more than enough times.
Besides, your dumb ass would've married me out of pity and I don't think I could've lived with that.
◜continued from here◞
[ She has no idea what dating entails these days. But he'd said to wear whatever's comfortable, so she puts on a dress, even if it's one considered vintage by modern standards. After which she she curls her hair; it's out of fashion by now, but she hasn't had the opportunity to learn new styles yet.
Then it's a matter of waiting. She goes outside her apartment building five minutes before their agreed time, nervously raking a hand through her hair. His portrait is secure in her handbag, carefully inserted in a cute little picture frame she'd procured the last time she'd gone thrifting. She's brought one of her sketchpads too, as promised, containing faces of random strangers around her, drawn while people watching in parks and cafes and libraries. It's not her best work, but she couldn't show him the tribute portraits she'd made of her dead friends. After all, how would she explain herself if he recognized anyone? While she'd pretty much vanished in the annals of history, remembered more for the pinup posters rather than her wartime exploits, the Howling Commandos (and Howard Stark) had become legendary. They had fucking action figures and teddy bears and everything.
She tries not to think that he's coming to pick her up in a car. In one of his cars. He must've been born into a rich family — a really rich family — to be able to afford an entire collection. Meanwhile, she's struggling to make ends meet. SHIELD had helped her hunt down an apartment in her old Brooklyn neighborhood, but it's costing her a fortune. It almost sounds like the beginning of a romance novel. ]
[Stephanie might be outside five minutes before their agreed meeting time, but Zemo pulls up in front of her building with two and change left to spare.
It's easy to hear him coming thanks to the rather loud purr of his soft-top convertible - a vintage Aston Martin (which was probably going a bit too fast for such a neighborhood). The car's in pristine condition, not a scratch in the paint or a spot on the cream-colored interior. Rarer than rare, ludicrously expensive. Definitely a part of his aforementioned collections.]
Miss Stephanie! Hello. [Zemo flashes a charming smile, peering down from behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. Gloved hands still on the steering wheel and the shifter, he places the car in park but lets the engine idle. He's elegantly dressed like their meeting at the museum - it's almost like the term casual doesn't exist in this man's vocabulary.]
I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long?
[Yes he's still technically early but... he could've been earlier, you know? Made an even better impression?
He's already getting out of the car to meet her on the sidewalk. He'll even open the passenger door for her like the gentleman he is. But first - he has to say hello properly: by embracing her and pressing kisses to her cheeks one at a time. It's a Sokovian thing.]
You look lovely, my dear.
It's easy to hear him coming thanks to the rather loud purr of his soft-top convertible - a vintage Aston Martin (which was probably going a bit too fast for such a neighborhood). The car's in pristine condition, not a scratch in the paint or a spot on the cream-colored interior. Rarer than rare, ludicrously expensive. Definitely a part of his aforementioned collections.]
Miss Stephanie! Hello. [Zemo flashes a charming smile, peering down from behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. Gloved hands still on the steering wheel and the shifter, he places the car in park but lets the engine idle. He's elegantly dressed like their meeting at the museum - it's almost like the term casual doesn't exist in this man's vocabulary.]
I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long?
[Yes he's still technically early but... he could've been earlier, you know? Made an even better impression?
He's already getting out of the car to meet her on the sidewalk. He'll even open the passenger door for her like the gentleman he is. But first - he has to say hello properly: by embracing her and pressing kisses to her cheeks one at a time. It's a Sokovian thing.]
You look lovely, my dear.
◜continued from here◞
[ ... He ought to know the truth if things are to go anywhere, right? Even if that might change his opinion of her. ]
Yeah, but not over the phone.
I've never really talked to anyone about this and it's... a lot.
I don't even know where or how to begin.
Okay. We can talk in person if you wish.
Whatever you're most comfortable with, miláčik.
The beginning is usually the best place or so I've heard. :)
Whatever you're most comfortable with, miláčik.
The beginning is usually the best place or so I've heard. :)
[Things sure were a lot quieter now that the fight was over. For the most part, anyway. There was still some yelling here and there, and definitely some crying, because there were lots of fallen everywhere. From both sides. But there was only one person who mattered to Bucky in that moment.]
Steph? STEPH?!
[Eyes wide as he called her name, he dropped his rifle on the ground, not giving a shit if he never saw it again, and went searching for that long blonde hair. Because she had to be okay. Last time they were in a war he swore he'd tell her after it was over, then the fall happened, and HYDRA, and... She just had to be okay. Because he had to tell her, even if she didn't feel the same he had to tell her. He ignored everyone that wasn't her as he went.]
STEPHANIE GRACE ROGERS I WILL KICK YOUR ASS MYSELF IF YOU'RE NOT OKAY.
[No he wouldn't. He would never kick her ass, not while he was in his right mind.]
Steph? STEPH?!
[Eyes wide as he called her name, he dropped his rifle on the ground, not giving a shit if he never saw it again, and went searching for that long blonde hair. Because she had to be okay. Last time they were in a war he swore he'd tell her after it was over, then the fall happened, and HYDRA, and... She just had to be okay. Because he had to tell her, even if she didn't feel the same he had to tell her. He ignored everyone that wasn't her as he went.]
STEPHANIE GRACE ROGERS I WILL KICK YOUR ASS MYSELF IF YOU'RE NOT OKAY.
[No he wouldn't. He would never kick her ass, not while he was in his right mind.]
Steph's heart had stopped for a second when ash once more littered the battlefield, reminding her of that dreadful fight in Wakanda over five years ago. It was always Bucky she saw whenever she made the mistake of looking back to it; how, like on that train, he had slipped from her grasp and to his death. Once was bad enough, but twice? She had to be cursed.
It was their enemies that were crumbling to ash, but fear seized her anyway. The Stones had brought all the Vanished back, and she'd caught glimpses of Bucky during the fighting, but she'd lost track of him along the way, having had to concentrate on battling Thanos. She didn't want to think that he'd returned only to die again, but what were the odds? Enough to have her blinking back tears as she limped through the smoke and the ruins of the Compound and the dead bodies, searching for him. She knew she had to check on the others, run through her list and make sure everyone on her team was accounted for, but she had to find Bucky first. She wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't.
"Bucky? Bucky!" She was shaking from exhaustion. Her left forearm was still strapped to her broken shield, if only because she'd used the belts as a torniquet to stop the bleeding. In her other grimy, gloved hand, she held Mjolnir, but it barely registered with her that she was still carrying it until she had to drop it to grab a passing Wakandan. "Hey, have you seen Bucky?"
But nobody seemed to know where he was. That, more than the beating she'd taken, made her knees give way. Sinking into the ground, she pulled off her helmet and tossed it aside, her hair a disheveled mess.
"I'm so sorry, Buck," she sobbed. There were others to mourn — Nat, Tony — but this grief she'd long carried in the depths of her heart was finally clawing its way out, and she thought, idly, that maybe she could just lie down and close her eyes and not wake up.
It was their enemies that were crumbling to ash, but fear seized her anyway. The Stones had brought all the Vanished back, and she'd caught glimpses of Bucky during the fighting, but she'd lost track of him along the way, having had to concentrate on battling Thanos. She didn't want to think that he'd returned only to die again, but what were the odds? Enough to have her blinking back tears as she limped through the smoke and the ruins of the Compound and the dead bodies, searching for him. She knew she had to check on the others, run through her list and make sure everyone on her team was accounted for, but she had to find Bucky first. She wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't.
"Bucky? Bucky!" She was shaking from exhaustion. Her left forearm was still strapped to her broken shield, if only because she'd used the belts as a torniquet to stop the bleeding. In her other grimy, gloved hand, she held Mjolnir, but it barely registered with her that she was still carrying it until she had to drop it to grab a passing Wakandan. "Hey, have you seen Bucky?"
But nobody seemed to know where he was. That, more than the beating she'd taken, made her knees give way. Sinking into the ground, she pulled off her helmet and tossed it aside, her hair a disheveled mess.
"I'm so sorry, Buck," she sobbed. There were others to mourn — Nat, Tony — but this grief she'd long carried in the depths of her heart was finally clawing its way out, and she thought, idly, that maybe she could just lie down and close her eyes and not wake up.
◜continued from here◞
Of course. If you want to, that is. I just don't wanna have you thinking you're forced to do so because of me.
[ Even after everything, she still feels like she takes up too much space when people do something nice for her. ]
3! Now that's exciting.
I'd make you a book of vouchers, but I don't really know what to offer other than a sketching session.
Of course I want to. I might not seem the type but I do enjoy cooking.
Being in the kitchen can be quite relaxing. I don't mind it at all.
Who says you can't?
We could have a bit of an exchange.
I could make some suggestions if you like.
[Sneaky sneaky...]
Being in the kitchen can be quite relaxing. I don't mind it at all.
Who says you can't?
We could have a bit of an exchange.
I could make some suggestions if you like.
[Sneaky sneaky...]
I didn't! Not that I would know since it only has 3 words in its vocabulary?
Someone's feeling a little greedy aren't they?
You know how much I love that.
You know how much I love that.
Stephanie Grace Rogers found herself flat on her back in an unfamiliar clearing, staring up at the sky and surrounded by strange machinery.
Before that, she'd been on her way to the Army Nurse Corps' recruitment office in Queens, prepared to make the lie of her life. But she'd been mugged in the alley by a blonde woman in a strange suit. "I'm sorry, but you have to disappear," the woman had said in a voice that Steph could swear was familiar but just couldn't put a finger on. Then she'd blacked out.
Groaning, she rolled to her side, then let out a hacking cough that sounded like she was about to spit out a lung. It took her a moment to realize that her things were gone; her satchel, her falsified application form, her sketchpad and pencils, Bucky's letters. It took another for her to notice that she wasn't wearing her own clothes anymore, instead it was the mugger's weird suit that was several sizes too big on her, and that a crumpled piece of paper had been stuffed into her right fist.
She unfolded it only to see her own handwriting.
"What the fuck?" said Stephanie Grace Rogers, the one who never became Captain America, the lovesick dying girl from 1945.
Before that, she'd been on her way to the Army Nurse Corps' recruitment office in Queens, prepared to make the lie of her life. But she'd been mugged in the alley by a blonde woman in a strange suit. "I'm sorry, but you have to disappear," the woman had said in a voice that Steph could swear was familiar but just couldn't put a finger on. Then she'd blacked out.
Groaning, she rolled to her side, then let out a hacking cough that sounded like she was about to spit out a lung. It took her a moment to realize that her things were gone; her satchel, her falsified application form, her sketchpad and pencils, Bucky's letters. It took another for her to notice that she wasn't wearing her own clothes anymore, instead it was the mugger's weird suit that was several sizes too big on her, and that a crumpled piece of paper had been stuffed into her right fist.
She unfolded it only to see her own handwriting.
Buck,
I hope you'll forgive me one day. But I have to try.
If I don't return, then in at least one timeline I have saved you from your fate.
Yours,
Steph
"What the fuck?" said Stephanie Grace Rogers, the one who never became Captain America, the lovesick dying girl from 1945.
Edited 2025-11-24 22:35 (UTC)
Bucky was looking out over the lake, his hands deep in his pockets as he waited for Steph to get back. She had sworn she wouldn't be gone long, but of course there was still a fear in the back of his mind that something could go wrong and she wouldn't come back.
And if she ended up in trouble while time traveling like she was a damn H.G. Wells character? Some sort of rescue mission wouldn't be straightforward in the slightest.
When he heard the machine whirring back to life behind him, Bucky let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, a good chunk of tension melting out of him. "Took you long eno-" the sound of coughing cut him off. The smirk that had started to tug at his lips faded and his brow furrowed in confusion and concern as he turned around to look at his best friend.
On the ground.
Coughing.
Quickly, Bucky made his way back to the machine and didn't step onto the platform until he was sure it had shut down, then pushed past Sam to crouch beside her. "Steph? What's going on? What happened?" It wasn't until he brushed her hair from her face with his good hand to get a good look at her that he realized she looked different. Small and coughing, she looked like she did before she got the serum.
And if she ended up in trouble while time traveling like she was a damn H.G. Wells character? Some sort of rescue mission wouldn't be straightforward in the slightest.
When he heard the machine whirring back to life behind him, Bucky let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, a good chunk of tension melting out of him. "Took you long eno-" the sound of coughing cut him off. The smirk that had started to tug at his lips faded and his brow furrowed in confusion and concern as he turned around to look at his best friend.
On the ground.
Coughing.
Quickly, Bucky made his way back to the machine and didn't step onto the platform until he was sure it had shut down, then pushed past Sam to crouch beside her. "Steph? What's going on? What happened?" It wasn't until he brushed her hair from her face with his good hand to get a good look at her that he realized she looked different. Small and coughing, she looked like she did before she got the serum.
tell me if i need to change anything? i tried to be kinda vague!
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hadagreatpast
- 2025-11-26 14:22 (UTC) - Expandno complaints here, esp if it helps you survive your dinner thing!
dysmorphics
- 2025-11-27 18:21 (UTC) - Expand◜continued from here◞
"She'll be safe with him." Bucky knew Steph best, and had years of firsthand experience in managing the myriad of symptoms she'd constantly been plagued with before the serum. "And there have been so many medical advancements, most if not all of her illnesses can be managed. Inhalers for asthma, hearing aids, colorblind glasses, allergy testing so people know what the hell they were allergic to exactly." She resisted the urge to make some quip about being allergic to the stupid, as it would backfire since all the stupid was clearly with her.
Getting the past version of her out of the way so she would never become Cap also meant: "And if she never got roped into the war, even if she signed up for it willingly in the first place... no PTSD, no survivor's guilt, no nightmares. She won't crash a plane into the Arctic and get buried under the ice for decades while slowly losing her mind, or battle aliens and live through half the universe turning into dust and vanishing, or get beat up to near-death by the love of her life, or watch him die twice because, for all of her strength and inhuman abilities, she couldn't save him." Her voice cracked at the end and she became more determined not to look his way.
And maybe it was selfish to want a version of herself to live — but didn't that Steph deserve a shot at a better life, to make up for how she constantly threw her chances away? She should have stayed in Brooklyn and gardened. Perhaps he would have come home and then asked her to marry him. After all, it hadn't been Steph who saved him on the train in this timeline, grabbing him when he'd flown off the side of the car after one of HYDRA's goons ripped a hole through it. It had been Peggy.
Okay, that--all of that--gave Bucky pause. He finally turned to look at her again, really look at her. Even beyond the obvious physical changes like her height and build, Bucky could see some other signs that she'd been through a lot. She looked a bit older, and definitely tired in a worn-down kind of way, not just a "Been a few hours since I last slept" way. And out of everything she mentioned that she'd been through, the thing that sounded the most insane to him was that her version of him had been so brainwashed that he'd nearly killed her.
Bucky would rather kill himself than her. Even this version of her that stole his timeline's Steph away.
Plus, there was the mention of the medical advancements. Bucky had always tried to be Steph's biggest supporter, trying to cheer her up when she was sick (or mad, or sad) and tried to keep her from her negative thinking about her health. He'd told her countless times that she was going to be fine, her health wasn't gonna take her out early, and all of those sorts of things, but that didn't mean he didn't worry about her. Because he did. All the goddamn time. Even if he tried not to show it.
Frowning, he looked away again. "Shit, if medicine's that much better there, maybe it'll be better for her than here." There he went again, putting Steph before himself. He could cheer her on and support her all he wanted, sure. But he couldn't cure her.
Bucky would rather kill himself than her. Even this version of her that stole his timeline's Steph away.
Plus, there was the mention of the medical advancements. Bucky had always tried to be Steph's biggest supporter, trying to cheer her up when she was sick (or mad, or sad) and tried to keep her from her negative thinking about her health. He'd told her countless times that she was going to be fine, her health wasn't gonna take her out early, and all of those sorts of things, but that didn't mean he didn't worry about her. Because he did. All the goddamn time. Even if he tried not to show it.
Frowning, he looked away again. "Shit, if medicine's that much better there, maybe it'll be better for her than here." There he went again, putting Steph before himself. He could cheer her on and support her all he wanted, sure. But he couldn't cure her.
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