dark star » s. rogers

dark star » s. rogers

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing1h 4m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Wed, Feb 12, 2025
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Fanfic
Marvel
𝙼𝚒𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚁𝚎𝚙𝚘𝚛𝚝: 𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟹𝟷, 𝟷𝟿𝟾𝟶. 𝙾𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚁𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚊𝚕: 𝚂𝚞𝚌𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝙴𝚕𝚒𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍: 𝚃𝚠𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎. 𝚃𝚊𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚁𝚎𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚍: 𝙾𝚗𝚎 - The footage paused. Tony leaned forward in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Jarvis, turn it off. Turn- Turn it off." He set his empty glass on his desk and got up, pacing around the room. "I can't fucking believe it," he mumbled. "There's no way." "Are you sure it was her, Sir?" The smooth voice asked. "That video was taken thirty-five years ago." Tony leaned against the desk. "Yeah. It was her, alright. But she..." "But she what, Sir?" He sucked in a sharp breath. "She died a month after that video." - The moment he made that choice, the world changed. Bucky Barnes saved Steve Rogers and walked away with nothing but a fragmented mind and a metal arm. The girl, however, was less fortunate. Barnes knew he would find her again, though. He knew they would get their salvation. "𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘸." -𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘕𝘪𝘦𝘵𝘻𝘴𝘤𝘩𝘦 - steve rogers x wintersoldier!oc
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(Short Story!!) It had always been a strange thing, growing up with stories about two men who seemed larger than life. Your grandmother never called them "Captain America" or "the Winter Soldier." To her, they were just Steve and Bucky-the boys who used to race down Brooklyn streets barefoot, who could eat their weight in ice cream, who once spent a summer building a treehouse that barely stayed up until autumn. She spoke about them with warmth, never shying away from the fact that life had pulled them into wars-one they chose, one they didn't. As you got older, you saw clips, grainy photos, shaky cell phone footage of Bucky Barnes in black tactical gear, a metal arm flashing in the light. You read the reports, the headlines about the destruction, the redemption, the battles the Avengers fought to save the world. You didn't expect to ever meet them. Not until 2025, when your grandmother passed away. Steve came to her funeral-looking exactly as he had in the old photographs, like time had politely stepped aside for him. And with him was another man, standing half a step behind, dressed in a dark suit. He didn't seem entirely comfortable being there, his jaw set, his eyes darting between the crowd and the coffin draped in flowers. Bucky Barnes. From the way Steve's hand rested briefly on his shoulder before introducing you, you knew he hadn't planned on coming. But he had. And when he looked at you, really looked, you felt the air shift. Because his gaze lingered just a fraction too long. Because his breath caught in his chest. Because in that moment, you knew what he saw- The spitting image of your grandmother. The girl he had once known before the wars. But you were not her. You were twenty-four. And when his eyes softened, the rest of the world seemed to fall away.

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