Pairings: Platonic!Sam Wilson x Reader, Platonic!Bucky Barners x Reader, Reader is Steve’s Daughter
Summary: Steve goes back in time to return the stones, and decides to stay there. Y/n, his daughter, can’t help but feel abandoned, and to make matters worse, Steve decided to leave the shield - and the responsibility that comes with it - to her.
A/n: this is an AU I’ve had in my head for a while, and I’m glad I finally got to write it out. Again, english isn't my first language. Thank you @currentlygettinglobotomized for proof-reading. Enjoy!
Being the daughter to the one and only Captain America has its benefits.
That's what you tried to remind yourself as you walk towards the museum, flashing lights and loud reporters following your every step. You've learned how to tune them out by now, to focus on getting from where you are to where you need to be, but you're not on your best game today. You chalk it up to nerves - the crowd's never been this big before, and it's usually filled with fangirls, not government officials - but you know that's not the reason why you feel uneasy.
To be truthful, you haven't been on your best game for a while now, that seems to be a side effect of your father's absence. Maybe it's because you miss him, because he brought you comfort, or maybe because you feel absolutely abandoned by the way he fled without so much as a warning, just to give you a huge responsibility after coming back, but this time away from him has not done you any good.
Either way, he left you with a mess to clean up, so that's what you're doing now.
You think you're finally about to burst until you see Sam coming in your direction. It's great to see someone who isn't trying to dig holes into your heart behind a microphone. He's smiling, which isn't a rare sight, but you doubt there's much to be happy about today. Really, you're stressed and currently resenting him for looking like he's slept in the last few days.
When he reaches you, you feel a weight lift off your shoulders, though that might just be because the reporters were forced to move farther away from you. The paparazzi isn’t new to you, but everything is overwhelming today. Side effects of big speeches, you figure.
"I can feel the nervous radiating off you," he says, and if it was anyone other than Sam, you might have become defensive at his words.
He's become something of an uncle to you over the years, ever since he and many other shocked superheroes found out that Captain America was not in fact a virgin, but rather a father of a now 19 year-old girl.
You have no reason to lie to him, at least not right now, so you let your guard down. "I am nervous. It's a big day."
"And you'll do great. Just give the speech, which I know you've practiced in the mirror at least 12 times," he pauses to look pointedly in your direction, and you can do nothing but shrug, because you know he's right. "You don't have to take any questions if you don't want to. Just walk off stage, I'll be by the steps, and then we'll drive off into the eternal sunset or whatever you kids imagine these days."
Part of you wishes you could keep your practically tattooed-on frown, but you'd be lying if you said Sam's words didn't help, even if just a little bit. "What would I do without you?" You ask, stopping before the steps of the stage you're supposed to be up on.
Sam smiles before beginning to move into the crowd of politicians. "Worry yourself to death, probably."
Imagining the audience in their underwear is not as effective as you thought it would be.
Your voice is still stuck in your throat and your hands are still sweaty no matter what color of lacy panties you envision the front row in. Your knees still wobble and your eyes still water even though the senator looks hilarious in heart-printed boxers.
Still, you decide you have to push through and give the speech. The sooner you start, the sooner you get it over with. And you’re dying to get this over with.
"Steve Rogers is... was a great man. He was a legend. A man who did what little could do. A hero among us." You take a deep breath to keep the tears in your eyes from spilling.
"But like all good things, his life had to come to an end."
The little silence that rang out before you started talking was quickly overpowered by the gasps and whispers of those present. They're most likely wondering the same thing that’s been on your mind as of late; is Captain America really gone?
"He died a peaceful death, surrounded by those who he loved most. But we all know that the life, and now death, of Steve Rogers has a greater impact than just those who were lucky enough to be there.
"So today, we not only recognize the man that he was, but also the symbol that he carried; The symbol of Captain America. A symbol of hope and patience and a possibility for a better future. The space he left behind is difficult to fill-" you take a deep breath "-and it’s not one I'll try to mend.
"I am not Steve Rogers. I can never be him, and I will never try to be him. But as his daughter, as one of the people who knew him best... I will use every single lesson he taught me throughout the little time we had together to be - to be a fraction of what he was.
"A part of us, a part of me, died with him, but Steve was nothing if not resilient. And in this time, every part of him that is reflected in each of us is more important than ever. So let us, too, be resilient. Let us, too, be brave and strong and kind, like he was.
"Because Steve Rogers may be gone, but Captain America lives on forever."
You would kill to be home in your pajamas right now. Instead, you're stuck outside of your favorite Chinese place, being bombarded with flashing lights and burning questions.
In retrospect, you should've let Sam get out of the car to grab the takeout like he offered, but sitting next to him in pure silence after blowing up on him because "No Sam, it's not okay!" (referring to your dad, obviously) did no good for you, and you were in serious need of some fresh air.
Fresh air my ass, you think as you take a deep breath - something you find yourself doing often recently- in order to avoid yelling at the reporters. They're just doing their job, and you're just trying to get to the car before you make a scene that gets you on the first page of some big newspaper for all the wrong reasons.
A part of you hopes they'll realize you're not really in the talking mood and leave you alone for now, but a smarter voice in your head knows that the chances of that happening on today, of all days, are slim to none.
People are curious, and when curious, they ask questions.
"Ms. Rogers, Ms. Rogers!" You hear from somewhere in the crowd. As much as you don't want to be here, answering one question won't be the death of you.
"Hi," you greet towards the voice, which you now see belongs to a woman who looks too kind to be in this industry. You hope she'll spare you.
"You say Captain Rogers died a peaceful death. Is that to say that he didn't die during the final battle against Thanos?" The question isn't difficult to answer, but it still makes your heart ache. Any question about him makes your heart ache, really.
"No. Uhm, Captain Rogers didn't die during the battle against Thanos.”
You should've been expecting the question. It was obviously the next one to be asked, given the lack of information given to the public. Most of the details regarding the battle, regarding the reversal of the Blip, in general, was withheld from them. They know that somehow Thanos came back with an army, and that this time around Earth's Mightiest Heroes were prepared, but that's just about it.
It's not like you can introduce the idea of time travel to the general public and expect universal understanding that time is something not to be messed with. People are bound to want to undo mistakes of the past, even if they know it’s dangerous to do so.
It's a fact even you had a hard time processing, even after many nights spent crying in the apartment you grew up in, drowning yourself in blankets that still had the lightest essence of him.
You were grounded there by what was left of the Avengers after you attempted to make a time-voyage on your own to get a moment with your dad before he went back to return the stones. You remember screaming and crying, but most of all, you remember their pitying looks as they saw you hurting.
You had every right to hurt though.
"My dad made a sacrifice for the greater good of the world we live in. He gave us his life and his death. I only ask that you give his name - our name - some peace."
You dart through the sea of reporters and make a beeline for the car, hoping that you've said enough to keep them away from you.
Technically, your words weren't lies. He did go back in time for the good of the timeline, and every moment from the serum to returning the stones was done in service to the world, but he didn't have to stay back there. No, he chose to do that. He left you, and came back a different man. A man who clearly hadn’t lived the life your dad had.
You try not to think about it too hard as you shut the car door behind you, but you can already feel tears gathering in your eyes.
The quiet tension in the car has died down by the time you and Sam reach your apartment, but he decides it's best to let you be on your own for a while. As much as he helps you, there's only so much a friend of your father's can do to get you closer to healing.
Part of that is letting you think on your own, so Sam drives off after dropping you in front of your apartment building, but not before making your promise that you won't lock yourself in the place for the next week.
You laugh with him, and you say that you won't, but you both know that as soon as you step in the apartment, every emotion you've been trying to suppress will come back rushing to you, and you won't want to do anything but cry and watch tv.
It's the apartment you spent most of your life in, not including the years that your dad was on the run; Tony took you in during that time, helping you cope with Steve’s absence. It didn’t help that you were still adjusting to life in the spotlight, your existence as Captain America’s daughter having been leaked along with the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. files two years prior.
When your dad came back to you, after the Blip, the two of you moved back into this place. Those five years were difficult, but you were glad to have been able to live them with your dad. It was like you were finally getting back all those years who had lived without him.
Now, the apartment is void of the little joy that it occupied before… everything.
You kick off your shoes before putting one of your dad’s vinyls in the player. The songs are old and not really your style, but they remind you of him, and you always have a better time when not left in complete silence with your thoughts.
Normally, you’d have turned on some sappy rom-com that you’ve watched a hundred times by now, but the day has been heavy, and you need a shower to wash it away.
You’re barely out of the shower and dressed in comfortable clothes when your phone starts ringing. You mentally curse whoever had the bright idea to try and talk to you today, but go to pick up the phone anyway.
You feel slightly bad for cursing him when you see that the contact on the screen is none other than your dad’s childhood friend, and your favorite uncle (not that you’d ever tell Sam), Bucky.
You swipe to answer his call.
“You did good,” his voice rings from the phone, quiet yet assuring. It’s one of the things you like about him; Bucky always gets straight to the point.
You sigh before answering. “Yea, that’s what I keep trying to tell myself.”
“Believe me, kid, if you’d done something wrong, you’d know. You did good.”
“I know, I know,” you answer, trying to convince yourself more than him. You’d been planning what to say in that speech for ages, and even though you settled, something in you still felt wrong.
You break the few seconds of silence of the call. “It’s just that… when he gave me the shield, it felt like he wanted me to continue his work, to become Captain America.” You glance at the brown, circular case in the corner of your room, concealing the relic.
“It just feels wrong to hide it, to keep it for myself like I’m the only person who deserves it.”
“If you want, you can always drop it off at my place,” he jokes, pulling a laugh from you. You joke back, saying that you’d bring it around next time you see him.
“But seriously, I know he’d be proud of you. He wouldn’t have given the shield to you if he didn’t trust that you’d know what to do with it.”
“I don’t know, though. That’s what’s scaring me.”
“You will eventually, though. I know you will,” he responds. Then, he lets out a small breath. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? It’s- it’s hard enough without Steve, those of us still around should stick together.”
Bucky’s the most antisocial person you’ve ever met, so you know he must be hurting if he’s talking about company. In a way, it feels good to know that he’s just as bad as you are, and that you’re not alone in this.
“Uh, yea,” you say. “Thanks, Buck.”
The call ends, and you sink back into the sofa, your food now gone cold. You know you should microwave it again, because you won’t enjoy it if it’s cold, but you’re too tired to even reach your tv remote, much less stand and walk all the way to the kitchen.
So, you opt to eat your cold Chinese takeout in silence, with the exception of your dad’s music and the occasional sounds from the now-dark street. You think back on the museum, and the reporters, and the call with Bucky.
It’s a lot to process, and you don’t think you’ll fully get your head wrapped around the situation for a while. You’re tired and overwhelmed and you’re pretty sure you’ve started a big debate over your dad’s legacy that won’t be resolved anytime soon; but for the first time in a long time, you think you’ll be okay.
A/n: thanks for reading! any feedback is welcome.
Dividers by @cafekitsune & @cursed-carmine
