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ramp-it-up · 1 day ago

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Peach, Part IV

Summary: Steven Grant Rogers is Bucky Barnes' best friend and business parter in crime. He has decided to get out of the life with Bucky because it's the right thing to do. And now he is in love. With you. He wants to move forward with you and now he's got you on his turf.

Pairing: Art Dealer/Philanthopist (Mob Boss) Steve Rogers x Reader (Peach)

A/N: I love these two with my whole heart. This is turning into the slowest of burns, sorry not sorry. This fic is connected to the Bucky Barnes Knock You Down AU, and DIRECTLY AFTER the events in the Bucky Barnes fic Worth the Fall and the Steve Rogers fic Peach III. We're at the second week of December, there is still so much in my head to say. Your interaction keeps me writing, so let me know if you like it by commenting and reblogging.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. SMUT. Read at your own risk. Angst. Slow burn, Mutual pining, idiots in love, drinking, body parts tingling, wild wild thoughts of breeding, taking each other down in various ways, and cock riding. Not Beta'd. All errors my own.

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--------

On one of your many walks along the beach, you teased your cousin about being the future Mrs. Bucky Barnes, and she tried to get you to talk about Steve, explaining some of the backstory to what happened in Atlanta.

But you were intransigent.

“Look. I know how stubborn you are. And how tough you are, because you’ve had to be. But I also know how big your heart is and how worthy you are of love. You are passing up on the chance to find your one true love.”

You scoffed.

“Love? Everyone can’t be all starry eyed and head over heels like you and Bunny boy.”

She laughed and shook her head at your nickname for Bucky, who you’d grown to like a lot over the weekend.

“And Steven, disguised at Grant, just wanted to get in my panties, which he achieved.”

You looked toward the waves as you thought about how Grant got you to see fireworks that night in your apartment, and the things Steve said that he wanted to do to you the other night.

“I have no doubt that Steve Rogers wants to fuck you girl. Look at you. You are fine as fuck.”

You laughed at your cousin dressing you down and gassing you up at the same time.

“But let’s be clear. You wanted to fuck him too. You still do. I see the way you look at him.”

“Hey! I didn’t lie–”

“Ah-ah!”

She silenced you with a finger.

“I know he lied about who he was, but were you completely honest with him? Totally?”

You side eyed your cousin as you imagined strangling her. But you weren’t eleven years old anymore.

And she wasn’t wrong.

“Yes, Steve lied, but he wants to make amends. He has feelings for you.”

You gave your cousin a side eye.

“Did he tell you that? And you trust him?”

“With my life.”

She put her arm around you and pulled you close as you walked.

“Listen, I know you are guarding your heart, but I know Steve. He’s got this exterior that seems one way, but he will surprise you. He’s a really, really good guy.”

You sighed, still not there yet.

“I’m good on that, cousin.”

“Okay. I’ll tell him that you have a heart of stone and that he should move on. It’s not like there aren’t bitches lined up to suck his dick every day in the city…”

A jolt of jealousy zipped through you, but you pushed it down. You just took a deep breath and gave her an overly bright smile.

“I don’t care who slobs on his lil’ knob.”

She rolled her eyes at you.

“Riiggght, cousin. Anyway. You are still taking the endowment money right?”

You raised your eyebrow at her and nodded.

“Nothing is going to get in the way of this dream, cousin.”

She grinned back at you, almost as bright as the sun.

“That’s my girl! We gon’ have a time in New York City…”

—

Sunday morning before you drove back to Atlanta, you went to the kitchen just as Steve came back in from a run on the beach. The rest of the family was going to Church and then he, Bucky and your cousin were going to fly back to New York on the private jet.

“Hey.”

He chucked his chin up at you like you were one of his bros.

The audacity.

“Hello.”

You kept it cute as he moved around you to grab a glass to get some water from the tap. The scent of sweat, ocean air, and him wrapped around you and you inhaled deeply, closing your eyes to savor it. It was like you were lost.

You opened your eyes to find him watching you as he downed the glass in one gulp, a drop of water escaping and rolling down his chin to his neck and disappearing into the already wet collar of his tight t-shirt.

You cleared your throat as he maintained eye contact with you and wiped his lips with his thumb, and some unseen force made you watch those thick fingers that felt you up not a month before, your nipples tight and panties wet.

Damn, this man and his effect on you.

You stared as his eyes swept down your body as if he knew what you looked like naked. He had seen you dance, and felt you up over and under your clothes, but that wasn’t what the look of possession was about.

This man wanted you.

—-

Steve almost ran back outside when he saw you in the kitchen as he came in. He’s taken a run to calm the erection he had when he woke up because of you, and now, here you were, dressed almost exactly the same as when he had the opportunity to kiss you and make you cum in his arms exactly 29 days earlier.

Yes, he was keeping count.

Steve was practically speechless, yet he managed to get out a crude, ‘Hey’ and a head motion as a greeting. What was that?

He wanted close to you, to feel your skin against his lips again, to check and see if you were wet, which you were judging from your slightly open lips and blown pupils. He didn’t go near you as he got a drink however, because no matter how much he was into knife and gun play, he wasn’t going there.

Steve wanted in your heart, not just your pants.

When you closed your eyes and visibly inhaled (probably to calm your anger, he imagined), he used the opportunity to watch your chest rise and watch the sunlight play on your skin. Those beautiful eyes caused his heart to clench when you opened them and he couldn’t tear his away as he drank his water.

Which he needed at the moment. Desperately.

Unconsciously, he wiped his lips with his thumb, remembering the texture of you as he did so. You cleared your throat, snapping him out of it.

“Peach…”

He stopped, waiting for your retort. You just stood there, expectant and although he was shocked as shit, he continued.

“I want to apologize for lying to you and for allowing things to get…physical while you believed a lie.”

You watched him for what seemed like a long time, but was really only seconds.

“I accept your apology, Steve, and I believe in forgiveness, if only for myself being able to move on, but I’m not ready to forget or fully trust you.” Steve nodded.

“I get it. I’m really sorry.”

You shrugged.

“I know you were trying to help Bucky get clean for my cousin, and I love her big, so, I can’t stay mad. And it’s clear that you are ride or die for those you love.”

And then you cocked your head at him in that adorable way and his heart crumbled into the sparkly bits of honey in your eyes.

“I feel like you love my cousin. Like family. So I guess that makes us family too.”

When you gave him a small smile, he smiled back dreamily. He was a teenage boy in your presence.

“I guess you’re right.”

Steve thought of family and a vision of you as a mother had him in a chokehold. You had him raging hard and wanting to bend you over the kitchen island and breed you until his seed dripped down your legs. Instead, he moved behind it to hide his condition.

“We will have to be in contact because of the endowment, which I am taking because of my students and the fact that it’s been my dream since I was 12 years old. It was then that I started being told that I was all wrong. My ass was too big. My breasts were too bouncy. I didn’t have a ‘desirable dance body.’”

Steve’s eyes openly scanned you. He looked angry, then scoffed.

“That's ridiculous.”

“Of course it is.”

“Don't change a thing. That would be criminal.”

You paused and then gave him a slightly larger smile then.

“Believe me, I'm not planning to change myself. I’m planning on changing the world.”

Steve stared at you, astounded at your fierce courage. No one else could compare.

“I’m serious. I know that sounds grandiose, but I want to leave my mark. I started a dance company so that any body with talent can get on a stage and have a career, regardless of their shape and size. That’s why I’m accepting the endowment. We can be business partners if it means those dreams can come true.”

You were a force. Damn, that only made Steve love you more.

“Brava, Peach.”

You stared back into those baby blues and coughed, trying to clear your throat from the lump that had formed there. Your goals and dreams always made you get intense.

“Need some water?”

Steve was already reaching for another glass. His eyes went wide as you reached for his and finished off what was left in it. He almost came at the thought of your lips where his had been. Holy mother of god.

“That hit the spot, thanks.”

You licked your lips and he nearly fainted, and as you turned toward the stairs, giving him a view of your backside, and looked back at him, he almost ethered to the sky.

“See you next week, Mr. Rogers. Have a safe flight.”

—-

Steve felt frantic the entire seven days leading up to the day he’d see you again. He and Sam and Nat and Bucky had lots of work to do, but he felt like a bumbling idiot, because his perfectionism was getting in the way.

Bucky saw the barriers Steve’s mind was putting in his way and spent extra time helping him. That’s why Bucky was his brother, Steve’s only family since his mother died when he was a kid.

They worked day and night, it seemed, to be ready for the summit.

Steve managed to take a few minutes to himself each night, sketching before he slept. The images of you that came from the lead of his pencil soothing his spirit and filling his dreams. They also caused him to wake up with a stiff reminder of your feel and smell in his nostrils.

Steve Rogers couldn’t wait to see his Peach again.

—--

You kept checking the emailed itinerary on the phone as you tried to relax in business class. All of the endowment recipients were arriving in New York around the same time period in the afternoon, and you were being picked up and chauffeured to your hotel, then three hours later, to a reception at a club in the Rebirth Building.

Then, you would be left to your own devices for dinner and to turn in or turn up. Turning up with your cousin was the only option.

You decided to try and catch some zzzz’s on the plane so you wouldn’t be too tired later. You also wanted to calm your nerves. This was a big deal for your dance school, you told yourself. You weren’t nervous about seeing Steve Rogers again on his turf.

Not at all.

—---

The driver that picked you up from the airport, complete with your name on a placard, Nico, was super nice. You were surprised that your cousin was in the car. You two squealed and talked and laughed on the way, and you were in such a good mood that you didn’t pay much attention when she addressed him by his first name very familiarly. He must be a very friendly guy.

Your check-in at the 1 Hotel Brooklyn was a breeze. The concierge let you know that you checked in at the right time; you happened to be upgraded to a one bedroom suite with a view of the New York skyline and the Statue of Liberty. The king sized bed looked like a dream, so you took a nap before you got ready for the evening. You wanted to be at your best amongst the other five Endowment awardees.

—-

You walked into the bar, Bea, and you were struck at how gorgeous it was, and how masculine.

There was rich mahogany wood everywhere, and the bartop material was a dark black honed marble. There were luxurious upholstered leather chairs and booths throughout and floor to ceiling wine coolers.

You were looking around in awe as a young woman came up and handed you a name tag.

“You must be Ms. YLN. Welcome.”

You greeted her as your cousin smirked at you. She grabbed two flutes of champagne from a passing wait staff.

“How…”

You gaped at her.

“All staff have been briefed on all of you. Nothing but the best this week.”

“Oh. Okay…” She giggled as you continued your inspection of the place. Steve and ‘nem had more money than you thought. A lot more. A thought crossed your mind.

“Wait. Do you work for them?”

You narrowed your eyes at your cousin as she rolled hers.

“Well, tangentially. Bucky funded our Howard Benson exhibit at the Center and so I’ve worked with Rebirth on some Harlem Renaissance initiatives around Brooklyn and the other boroughs. I’ve also een helping Bucky and the crew prepare for this week.”

“Ah. Okay.”

You took a sip of your drink and continued your perusal.

It was your cousin’s turn now.

“Listen, bitch.You’ve got to chill. No one is out to get you, especially me.”

Your cousin looked halfway angry. But she was still adorable.

“You’re so fucking cute. Love looks good on you.”

You smiled at her serenely and she shook her head at you, knowing you too well.

“Don’t give me your shit, Peach. I was there in Hilton Head. You will act like you have some sense.”

“I’m civilized, cousin. Steve and I had a talk before I left. I’m chilling.”

“You better.”

She pointed to the gathering crowd in the room.

“Now go network.”

—--

Your laugh. It gave Steve goosebumps.

He hadn’t heard your full laugh much in Atlanta, just some low, sexy chuckles, because you two hadn’t talked much. And you certainly weren’t happy when he showed up at your family’s house. But you seemed much more relaxed this evening and Steve decided that it was his favorite thing in the world.

He spotted you as soon as you walked in with your cousin and she was beautiful as always.

But you.

When you finally noticed him, you seemed surprised, eyes wide and mouth slightly open, but not angry at all. He gained hope, and stood up straight, wondering if he looked good to you because you were certainly a vision to his eyes.

The outfit you were wearing was classy, yet could not hide that body from the eyes that studied it every chance he got. Which was every time he saw you.

As you mingled, and he shmoozed, he consistently had to force his eyes away from your tempting curves, your gorgeous face, the sound of your voice. And that fucking laugh. It wrapped itself around his heart and squeezed, seeped into his soul and spread warmth.

Not to mention the effect you had on his cock.

You were a fucking vision in black wide-legged leather pants and a plain white tee that hugged your mouthwatering tits, accessorized with red pointy heels a red clutch and an off white wool trench coat. The edgy outfit was very appropriate for the art world and although you were all covered up, your body wasn’t hidden from him, only accentuated. To top it off, your normally coily hair was straightened and loosely curled, calling for his fingers to slide through the thick strands.

It’s your eyes that got to him, though, those fucking beautiful eyes that he longed to see hazy with the pleasure he was giving you. He maintained eye contact with you as he thought his lurid thoughts, and raised his drink in a salute. You smiled at him and raised your drink in response and his heart soared.

Although he wanted to be near you immediately, he decided to give you some space. He didn’t want to force anything. Well, maybe he wanted to force his thick cock into your tiny cunt.

He licked his lips, then shook his head and scowled at Bucky as he noticed Steve staring at you. But he didn’t stop.

Careful now, Steve told himself. Take it slow.

—--

You mingled and met some of your fellow recipients. They were a diverse group of people from all over the country, but most seemed type cool. There was one who latched on to you, Sharon Carter. She was a photographer from Memphis and was very chatty. She was glued to your side as you made the rounds and you weren’t too mad. She just didn’t shut up.

“How do you like your room? A double with a view of the base of the Brooklyn Bridge. And after a three hour coach flight. Fancy.”

You sipped your drink and Sharon’s sarcasm. Your mind started whirling.

“Get a load of those beautiful people right there. Those are our benefactors.”

You looked to where she was indicating and were surprised to see Steve, dressed in and standing with Bucky, another tall handsome man with a low cut fade, and a petite fit redhead woman. They all looked to belong on a movie poster.

But Steve.

He was leaned against the bar, arms crossed over his broad chest, perfectly tailored dark green sport coat and black wool sweater, hugging his broad shoulders and trim waist like nobody’s business. His dark slacks were hanging on for dear life to those massive thighs, and his thick dark blond hair was tousled, like he’d been running his hands through it all day. You liked his hair cut short in the back with the length on top. There was still something to grab on to.

Damn him. It should be illegal for a man to look that fucking good, especially at this hour, with you already having had two glasses of champagne.…

You caught eye contact with Steve and your world spun for a second as you connected across the room. His eyes… God, his eyes.

Those steely blues were blazing with a heat that you could feel in your pussy, somehow containing a hunger that threatened to consume you. He stood up straight, and if you didn’ know any better, you would have thought that he flexed a little as he stared at you. Your pussy thought so, but your brain thought he wouldn’t try to hurt you like that.

He did, however, raise his glass to you and you couldn’t help but respond in kind.

You turned your attention to Bucky as he started to speak, and grabbed a bottle of water from a waiter, thinking you needed a clear head when you had to actually talk to Steve and not just acknowledge him from across the room.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the Rebirth Art Foundation’s annual celebration of creativity and innovation in the arts. This is a gathering to honor six extraordinary artists whose talent, vision, and hard work have earned them a place among the most promising creators of our time….”

You watched your cousin who was totally enraptured by what Bucky was saying. You got a warm feeling as you saw what true love looked like. You smirked as you saw her make her way over to him as Nat stepped up to speak. You were so happy for your fam.

“Now Bucky Barnes is a snack. Wonder if he’s taken?”

You side eyed the hussy and then pointed at your cousin, who hadn’t made it to Bucky yet.

“I think that’s his wife or something right there.”

Sharon took a sip of her drink and wrinkled her nose.

“Ha! Nice joke. But I don’t think they go together, meaning they don’t match. Get it?”

You stared daggers at her. This bitch. Then you glanced at your cousin and her man again.

“You might want to tell him that, because he looks like he’s about to take her tonsils out with his tongue.”

Sharon’s mouth dropped open to see them making out in a corner. You couldn’t help but laugh as she shrugged, then brightened when Steve gained the mic.

“Never mind him. Steve Rogers is the entire meal. I have it on good authority that his dick is big.”

You looked from her to Steve, a sinking feeling in your stomach. Were you going to catch a case in New York City over a man that was not your man?

Or was he your man?

“Good evening, and welcome. It’s an honor to have you all here as we celebrate six incredible artists who are pushing the boundaries of what’s possible in the art world and are poised to change the entire world.”

Steve looked straight at you then, and you held his gaze for that fraction of a second as he raised his eyebrow as electricity zapped between you before his eyes continued around the room.

Sharon was forgotten momentarily and you bit your lip. Whew. You had to refrain from fanning yourself as he continued.

“At Rebirth, we believe that art is more than just a medium—it’s a force that connects us, challenges us, and shapes our future. This week, I encourage you to not only take in everything around you but also to share your unique perspectives. Creation, art, and collaboration are the soul of this foundation, and I’m excited to see what bonds form this week. Congratulations once again, and let’s make something amazing together!”

“Come on, now is the time to meet them. Maybe I can make something amazing with Steve Rogers tonight.”

You let yourself be dragged over to where the four were standing as Sam was finishing his welcome and you introduced yourself to each as you tried to listen to Sharon simping.

Each person smiled warmly at you, and Bucky pulled you in for a hug, which made Sharon side eye you both, but only for a moment as her attention turned to Steve.

“Mr. Rogers, I’m Sharon Carter. You know my Aunt Peggy.”

Steve blanched.

“Peggy? Your… Aunt?”

Sharon laughed, a little shrilly to your ears.

“Yes. She’s my mother’s half sister. Born to the second wife, 18 years younger than my mom. They weren’t that close. But Peggy and I are just like sisters.”

“Oh.”

Steve looked a little trapped.

“Didn’t know that. It’s a small world.”

Peggy leaned closer to him, but you heard her stage whisper.

“Don’t worry, I won’t share the secrets she told me…”

Steve looked at her like she was crazy and then looked at you, almost in panic. You could see the anxiety in his eyes, so you decided to rescue him.

“Mr. Rogers. Hi. ”

The huskiness of your voice, the way his name sounded on your tongue. It calmed him and sent a lightning bolt of desire through him. Steve wanted to hear you call him that in a very different context.

Steve’s face changed when he looked at you. He shifted toward you, much to Sharon’s chagrin.

“My name is Y/N Y/LN, and it’s so good to finally meet you. I hope that this is the start of a great partnership.”

Steve cocked his eyebrow at you and smiled as you took his hand. You initiating touch with him was the start of his wet dreams of late. His thumb stroked your hand as he held it.

“I hope so too, Ms. Y/LN. I’ve been meaning to talk to you…”

“Please, call me Peach, Mr. Rogers.”

Nat came around and distracted Sharon as Steve put his hand on the small of your back to guide you to the side of the bar to talk. His smell enveloped you and his touch had you walking carefully, because your knees were weak.

“What did you want to talk about Mr. Rogers?”

He shook his head, his eyes dark now.

“Call me Steve, Peach, please.”

His voice was rougher, and impossibly deeper as he begged, and it sent chills straight to your pussy. You cocked your head and he in turn licked his lips.

“Why?”

“Because if you keep calling me Mr. Rogers, I–”

He stopped and your lust-addled brain filled in the gaps. Your lips parted on a soft inhale. Steve, on the other hand, inhaled sharply.

And then exhaled slowly.

“How was your flight?”

Steve thought it best to talk of the mundane, because he was half a second from bending you over the bar in front of all these people.

“It was… great. I appreciated the business class seat.”

His eyebrow shot up.

“You got upgraded? How fortunate.”

“Ummmmhmmm. So you didn’t know?”

“Promise.”

Steve’s mouth quirked up in a half smile, because he knew you didn’t trust him, but you were so cute when you were grilling him.

“And you didn’t know about the upgrade at the hotel?”

“No…”

“I have a king suite with a killer view of the city.”

Steve grinned now and you almost shielded your eyes.

“Seems you’re lucky.”

You stared into his eyes to see if he was lying, but you didn’t see anything there but feelings you didn’t want to name. But because of your history, you still didn’t trust what he said. Nevertheless, you decided to let it go. There was something else you needed to know.

“So, who’s Peggy?”

Steve grimaced.

“She’s someone I knew a long time ago. We were close. Once. But not anymore.”

You just kept looking at him.

“She’s moved on, married to a rich guy on the west coast. And I’ve moved on as well.”

You straightened up as he gazed down at you. You didn’t know why you cared so much. And you didn’t want to analyze his last sentence.

“Oh.”

Now, Steve was smiling down at you like he thought you were jealous.

Which was absurd.

And he looked as if he was happy about that ridiculous idea.

You were right.

Steve was jumping for joy on the inside at the way you reacted to hearing about Peggy. He didn’t expect to think about her, much less have to explain her to you tonight, but if it led to you realizing you had feelings for him, he was glad of Sharon’s connection. And the way she ran her mouth, although it was annoying.

“You good, Peach?”

You weren’t good. You found yourself wanting to show Steve your suite, especially the ceiling, as you rode his cock on the king sized bed so as to make him forget about any other pussy ever existing. But you must have been tweaking.

You needed to get out of there.

You turned around and went to find your cousin.

“I’m great Mr. Rogers. You have a good night.”

And Steve was left watching you walk away again.

——

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114 notes · View notes

calzone-d · 1 day ago

Note

So just saw your post about steve being an absolute much and i wholeheartedly agree. On that note i also believe he talks you through it so good when he fucks you. He comes off so poised to everyone else but when he’s with you? He gets so nasty and cocky with it, it’s all “that’s right baby take it” “oooohh is that right, that feel good?” “just let go sweetheart come for me” and when you get close and start gasping he smirks and mocks your little oh oh oh’s, like he knows he’s big and he knows he fucks you good, he just can’t help it

Thoughts?

pairing: Steve Rogers x afab!reader

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, reader has a vagina, steve has a filthy mouth

a/n: 100% Think about it- Steve loves to help. Loves to help others, loves helping you take his cock. and yeah he’s americas sweetheart but he deserves a little moment to be cocky too!!

not proofread!

absolutely nsfw below the cut im warning ya

“Yes, Sir. Thank you for coming out tonight, your donation makes a world of a difference.”

Steve’s voice is firm but sincere as he shakes the hand of another rich friend of Tony’s. They’re all making their way to the door as the night dies down. Not fast enough, though. Not fast enough to where you can whisk Steve away upstairs like you’ve been dying to do for the past few hours.

You toss back the rest of your drink when Steve moves to wrap his arm around your waist. He brings his lips to your neck, peppering the soft skin with little kisses. The feeling makes you laugh, the only people in the room left are a few of the other Avengers so he clearly has let go of his inhibitions. The asguardian mead kind of helped that along, too.

“Let’s go upstairs, need to feel that sweet pussy wrapped around me, sweetheart.”

His words cause you to choke. Your face flushes as you turn in his arms to set your drink down on the bar. He gently pats your back with a blush that matches yours.

“Sorry, honey. You okay?”

You chuckle thinking of how his filthy mouth always catches you off guard. America’s Golden Boy definitely has a golden tongue to match, but you’re the only one who holds that knowledge.

On your tiptoes, you put a hand on the back of his neck to pull his face down to your height. Your soft lips brush the shell of his ear,

“You want my pussy, baby? That’s what you need?” you whisper with a kiss to his ear.

His blush ripens just as it began to fade. He nods, preoccupied with making an escape plan, always the Captain.

Steve drags you out a side door and makes a beeline to the elevator. The second the doors shut, his hands are on your hips. His fingertips squeeze you as he starts speaking again.

“Bet that cunt’s drippin’ for me, huh?”

His Brooklyn accent always comes out when he’s like this. Before you have a chance to respond his fingertips are slipping up your dress. They skate over the inside of your thighs before pulling at the waistband of your panties.

“Lemme feel, honey.”, a thick finger slips between your folds. A wicked smile spreads across his flushed cheeks.

“Sweetheart… already so wet for me..” the tip of his finger catches your clit and makes you whimper.

Steve pulls his fingers out right as the elevator dings and the doors open. You clear your throat and follow him to his room. Steve’s pink lips wrap around his finger as he unlocks the door, mumbling something about how you taste.

He’s pulling you in as soon as the door opens, hurriedly pulling down the zipper of your dress.

“Need this off, honey girl. Now. Panties too, need to taste that pussy again.”

Without a second thought you shimmy the dress off and kick your panties somewhere behind him. He drops to his knees before you and crawls the rest of the way, backing you up against the wall.

Steve unbuttons his shirt and yanks it off, “Got me crawlin’ on the god damn floor for that pussy. Like a pet.”

You bite your lip at that. Your hands reach out to make a home in his perfectly styled hair. Steve settles on his knees, pulling one of your legs up and over his broad shoulder.

“Am I your pet baby?” You chuckle softly and nod.

“Mhm.. a good pet too, Stevie.”

He groans and leans forward. One of his hands comes up and spreads your folds open, putting every inch of your soaked pussy on display for him. His tongue sets a path from your quivering hole up to your hardened clit.

Pulling away the slightest bit he groans “Fucking hell”. Steve’s dirty mouth isn’t new to you, but always takes you by surprise. Always makes you blush just a little harder.

Steve makes a rhythm of poking at your opening with the tip of his tongue and using it softly against your clit. He’s obscene with it, too. A mixture of your slick and spit coating his sharp cheekbones. He slurps and moans as you near your orgasm.

“Gettin’ wetter, honey. Gonna cum for me? You can cum, sweetheart. Been so good to me tonight.”

“Gonna make you cum on my tongue, honey. Don’t worry, just let go. Lemme taste it, pretty girl.”

His words are muffled by your cunt but it makes you squirm all the same.

The tension snaps when he shoves his tongue as far as humanly possible inside of you. His pointed nose creating the perfect amount of friction against your throbbing bud.

“That’s- that’s it.” He pants into your sensitive folds. He slows down, pressing gentle kisses against your clit. “So sweet, honey.” another kiss. “Could taste this” another lick “this pussy all night.”.

You don’t miss the way he wobbles just the slightest bit when he stands to pull you into his arms. He pulls you in for a kiss that’s all tongue. The taste of you on his tongue makes you moan.

Steve kisses you all the way to his bedroom. Once he has you on the bed he shoves his pants and underwear off, not bothering to make a show of it. His cock is heavy and wet, the tip glistens as the weight of it makes it hang down in front of him.

You instinctively spread your legs, your arms reaching out for him.

“Stevie..”

He’s over you in an instant, nose nuzzling your cheek, then the flushed skin of your neck.

“M’here sweet girl. I’ve got you.” he murmurs. He wastes no time in bringing the tip of his cock to your soaked folds. He runs the tip up and down, making sure he’s wet enough to not hurt you.

“This pussy will be the death of me, honey. You hear me?”

You nod and grab at his back, holding him to you.

He slides in, and you both moan at the feeling.

“Just needed this- fuck- this sweet pussy on my cock. Needed you wrapped around me sweet girl.”

Once he’s balls deep he doesn’t even pull out to thrust into you again, just grinds the head of his cock against your cervix. The trimmed hair at his base adds to the sensation of his pelvis putting pressure on your clit. His heavy balls are pressed flush to the dip of your ass cheeks.

“Ohh fuck. Got me- got me so weak, honey.” he pants. One of his hands goes to the back of your head, pulling your face into his neck. You discovered pretty early on that he was so sensitive there. The second your lips touch his neck he’s a goner.

“You like that though, don’t you? Knowing you’ve got- mmm- got your captain so weak for you?” He pulls out almost all the way before slipping right back in, all the way to the hilt.

Steve tilts your hips backward just an inch or so, and the next move of his cock puts sweet pressure on your g-spot. The feeling makes you yell out, frantic hooded eyes searching for his as you grab onto his biceps.

“There it is, I got you, sweets. Just-“ another thrust, “Just taking care of my best girl.”

You whimper at the pressure on your g-spot. “Oh, steve! I- fuck.. So good..”

“I know baby, found your spot, huh?” he smirks as he hits it again. You nod as your eyes flutter shut.

“You can- you can take it, hun. That’s it..” he murmurs against your hair.

“I’ve got you sweet girl, just take it.” your moans only spur him on. “I know, I know, shhh. Taking it so well, sweets. Taking your captain’s cock.. god damn.. Squeezin’ me so tight.. Just creamin’ on my cock baby.”

He leans back and his thumb finds your clit. He thrusts more shallow now, jackhammering against your g-spot and putting you right on the edge.

“So sensitive here baby, such a pretty pussy. Love this pussy, oh fuck.. Got me- got me so close sweet girl.”

You lock your ankles behind his back, making him fall back over you.

“Cum in me Steve, I- fuck!- need it baby. Steve, please.. need- ohh- need it so bad.”

He drops his weight on you, face buried in your neck as he fucks you, spurred on by his most primal desire.

“Steve, I need to- m’gonna cum.. I’m.. I’m oh fuck!”

The way your pussy clenches on his cock sends him right over the edge.

“Shit, oh shit. m’cumming, honey. Ohh my god.” he doesn’t stop thrusting even as his cock twitches and empties itself deep inside you.

“Take it,” he buries himself as deep as possible. “Take your captain’s cum. All for you, sweet girl. Fuckkk, take it. Ohhh that’s it…”

He swallows thickly, nudging his nose against the side of your neck.

“Love..” he pants. “Love you, y/n. My sweet girl. Love you so much.” his voice is raspy.

He doesn’t even try to move. Your hand comes up to scratch at the back of his scalp and he wiggles a little against you, getting comfy for a minute.

You press a few kisses to his sweaty temple “Love you too, Stevie.”

He lays there on top of you until he goes soft and you’re poking him in the ribs to get him to move.

“Wanna shower, stevie. Get up.”

When he pouts, you giggle and press a soft kiss to his lips. After he slips his cock out of you, he uses his thumbs to gently spread your lower lips. He ghosts his thumb through his cum that’s starting to leak out of you. When he’s done admiring his handiwork he pulls away and brings his thumb to his lips.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, honey.”, he murmurs and pulls you to your feet.

In the bathroom, he gets the shower started while you pee and attempt to clean yourself up with some wipes.

“Jeez, Steve.. there’s just so much of it.”

Steve snickers and pulls the shower curtain back for you. “Been savin’ it for you, babe.” he says with a cheesy wink.

You laugh and fake gag, “Gross”. Steve leans in and presses a kiss to your scrunched nose.

—-

a/n: thanks for reading! likes/reblogs/comments are always appreciated, and requests are always open!

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers x reader blurb #steve rogers x reader smut #steve rogers x reader imagine #steve rogers x reader fanfiction #steve rogers has a filthy mouth #slutty steve #first time actually writing marvel i’m nervous #enjoy

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buck-star · 2 days ago

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for the stucky bingo!! “showering together”

either smutty or angsty! if you go angsty I’m always a sucker for the whole “just got bucky back” civil war era trope.

maybe steve helps bucky shower for the first time since getting him back! he prob didn’t have running water in bucharest so is a lil grimey but def doesn’t really have any positive associations with showers or bathing so he’s on EDGE the entire time but steve just mama birds him.

or alternatively bucky mama birds steve! maybe he gets sick somehow and bucky is full blown 1940’s “stfu and let me take care of you mode” and drags him into the shower

sorry for the rambling bye

Shower and comfort

Steve helps Bucky not just with a shower but also to calm his anxiety during the shower.

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers

Wordcount: 2.330 Words

Warnings/Tags: anxiety, Bucky with ptsd, crying, comfort, established relationship, petnames [baby], kisses, nudity (none sexual), fluff

Authors Note: Thank you for the request. It really sparked the muse to write, hope you like it. Divider made by me.

Masterlist | Stucky Masterlist

The warmth of the hot steam of the steady shower spray fills the room, mixed with the sound of the water dripping down onto the cool shower tiles to warm them up.

“Stevie, I don’t think… I don’t need a shower,” Bucky stutters, hugging himself tightly while he sits on the closed toilet where Steve placed him a few minutes ago. “I—I can just… I will just use a bit of soap and a sponge to wash me.”

Steve shakes his head; he hates to see Bucky so afraid and unsure. But as much as he loves his boyfriend, he can’t ignore that Bucky’s looking like he hasn’t had a shower in years — he probably hasn’t.

Bucky’s brown hair is stuck together, dirty, and causing pain already when Bucky tries to comb it. More often than not, Bucky scratches his dry skin until it’s a wound that has to be fixed by Steve, or else it would inflame itself.

“Buck, I know you don’t like it, but your hair is so dirty; we can’t fix it with just a bit of soap and a short wash,” Steve tries, but his boyfriend shakes his head, refusing to undress himself for the shower.

“But I don’t want to,” Bucky whines. As cute as it might sound, Steve notices the deep fear that’s in the tone of Bucky’s rough voice. His ocean blue eyes are pleading to let him get away with just a short cleaning. Steve would agree to it, and Bucky would agree to having a shower a week, but he hadn’t had one in months, maybe even years.

“When was the last time you really cleaned yourself? A full-body cleaning?” Steve asks, his voice remaining soft and understanding. He would never say that Bucky’s disgusting for having such a lack of self-cleaning, but he wants his boyfriend to feel better, and showers are supposed to feel better. Once you’re clean and pretty, you mostly feel not just fresh but also better.

“I don’t know… But I… I can clean my whole body without having to step inside there,” Bucky tries to argue. He only earns a soft shake of the other man’s head with a smile on the plump lips of his boyfriend. “Stevie, please. I will wash my body. But I don’t want to go into the shower.”

“How do you want to clean yourself then, baby?” Steve knows how Bucky would do it; he would undress and use some soap on either his hands or a sponge to rush it over his skin and use a bit of water to wash it away. The amount of water Bucky uses to clean himself fits in a small glass. And then he would dry himself with a towel before dressing himself again.

“Stevie…” Bucky mumbles, hugging himself even closer. The brunette shakes his head, whimpering quietly. “Please…”

“How about we undress you?” Steve suggests turning the shower off. Bucky immediately relaxes and nods. He lets his hands fall to his sides, and Steve uses the opportunity to help Bucky out of his sweat and dirt-covered Henley.

Bucky then gets off the toilet, looking down at Steve on his knees while he pushes down Bucky’s sweatpants and gets up to take a step backwards.

“Take off your boxers and I will get you a clean towel and a sponge,” Steve says, kissing Bucky’s forehead before he leaves the bathroom. Bucky does as he’s told, pushing down the thin fabric of his boxer briefs and stepping out of it. He then sits back down on the toilet, waiting for his boyfriend to come back into the bathroom.

Steve walks back into the bathroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder, new boxer briefs, a Henley, and sweatpants, as well as a sponge in his hands. He watches when Bucky pulls his legs against his chest and wraps his arms tightly around them. The usual broad and big man looks small and fragile when he sits there like that.

“Sit down in the shower for me; the tiles should be warm,” Steve says as he puts the clothes down on a counter. Bucky watches him with widened eyes, shaking his head. “Please, Buck. Sit down in the shower for me; I don’t want to drag you in there.”

“Stevie, you wouldn’t. Please, you don’t want to drag me in there,” Bucky whimpers, pulling his legs even closer against his broad chest. “I’m strong—“

Steve sighs, wrapping one arm around Bucky’s back, and the other slides underneath his legs, lifting his boyfriend up. Bucky whines, wrapping his arms tightly around his boyfriend's neck while he lets Steve carry him to sit on the floor in the shower.

“Stevie, you’re mean… I’m not gonna shower in here,” Bucky mumbles and tries to get out of the shower, but Steve blocks the way and gets on his knees to push Bucky back into a sitting position.

“Please, I know you’re scared, but please let me wash you. Let me undress; I will join you, and I will wash you. We can keep the door slightly open if it helps; the water isn’t gonna hurt you. And I’m not gonna hurt you, either,” Steve mumbles, running his fingers over Bucky’s cheekbones to his jaw to tilt his head slightly. “I will make you all the hot chocolate your heart desires, and we can watch all the movies you want with all the food you want to order, which can be fast food or whatever you want. But first we shower.”

Bucky’s eyes fill with tears, and he curls himself together as small as he can while Steve sighs and gets out of the shower to undress himself. Bucky muffled his quiet sobs with his arms, moving into the corner of the shower to press his back against the cool tiles of the shower.

When Steve turns back, his heart aches, and he quickly gets into the shower as well, crouching down and closing the door behind him. He reaches his hand out to pull Bucky closer and turns him in his arms so Bucky’s back is tightly pressed against Steve’s broad shoulder.

Steve runs his fingers softly up and down Bucky’s sides and over his thighs, trying to soothe him. “Buck, baby, take a deep breath for me, please.”

Bucky tries to take a deep breath, but another sob wracks through his body. The brunette is trembling; his fingers dig into his thighs while he leans against his boyfriend, his head against Steve’s shoulder.

He whimpers quietly. “Out of the shower, Stevie, please,” he whispers, more tears rolling down his cheeks. Steve keeps storming up and down Bucky’s soft skin, slowly taking both of his boyfriend's hands to keep him from digging his fingers into your thighs to cause bruises. “Stevie, please.”

“Take a deep breath, Buck. Deep breath, hold it, and slowly exhale,” Steve mumbles, his heart squeezing with Bucky’s pleading tone and begging. “You can test the water if it’s too hot or cold, and I will be as soft as I can.”

Bucky shakes his head. His fingers curl around Steve’s hands, grounding himself. “Please,” he begs, trembling and crying softly, but he does as Steve asked him and takes a few deep breaths and watches Steve take the showerhead. The blond-haired man turns on the water.

“So, hold your hand underneath, Buck,” he says softly. He wants to take off the shower and not shower with his boyfriend, but he knows he has to. When Bucky reaches his shaky hand out and lets the soft spray of the water fall on his hand, he flinches but nods. “Good, then I will start with your hair, and after that you can wash the rest while I clean your hair.”

“But… Stevie…” Bucky whispers, turning his head slightly to look at his boyfriend. His eyes are red and teary. “Be careful, please; I-it hurts when I comb through my hair.”

“Of course, I will not hurt you, Buck,” Steve explains before he brings the head of the shower to Bucky’s head. He uses one hand to lean the brunette's head back, letting the water dribble down on his messy hair. “You can relax; it’s just you and me in the shower, Buck.”

They both sit there in silence for a moment; Steve wets Bucky’s hair. His fingers combing as carefully as possible through them while Bucky sits there all tensed and still softly crying. When his hair is wet enough, Steve holds the shower head in front of Bucky to take it, and he does, letting the warm water flow down on his legs to keep him warm.

“If you don’t want to have the water on, let me know, and if anything is uncomfortable, you tell me,” Steve says, using some of the shampoo Bucky loves so much to put into his hands. He rubs them together for a bit before he brings them down on top of Bucky’s head and rubs the shampoo in the brown hair.

Bucky stays still; he keeps the showerhead over his legs and sometimes slips his head underneath to collect some water before he lifts his hand and lets it run down his chest.

Steve washes his boyfriend's hair softly, massaging Bucky’s scalp and neck while he rubs the shampoo in his brown locks. “Can you give me the shower head for a moment? Your hair is pretty stuck together; guess we need to wash it out and put a bit more shampoo in it.”

The brunette holds the shower head out for Steve to take. He’s still tense, his body still trembling, and Steve knows that Bucky’s on edge — ready to break down. But somehow he manages not to and remains still. Steve washes Bucky’s hair out, taking care that no shampoo lands in Bucky’s face or eyes.

“You’re doing so good, Buck. I’m proud of you, baby; you’re doing so good for me, letting me wash your hair,” Steve mumbles, using Bucky’s praise kink a bit to his advantage. Bucky’s lips twitch slightly for a short moment, his heart fluttering at the sound of Steve’s words.

“Thank you, Stevie,” he mumbles, taking the shower head again. Steve puts shampoo in Bucky’s hair again and repeats to rub it in the brown locks while he massages Bucky’s scalp and neck.

The longer they sit there, the more he massages Bucky, and the longer the water drops down on Bucky’s thighs and he plays a bit with the water, the more he relaxes.

“So, do you want to wash yourself or want me to wash you?” Steve asks after a while, his thick fingers still tangled into Bucky’s hair. He takes the showerhead once more and washes the shampoo out, Bucky’s hair way cleaner and not as messy anymore.

“You, p-please?” Bucky asks; he's still feeling unsure and on edge in the shower. But with Steve’s soft touch and his assuring words, it makes the shower easier and more comfortable.

“Of course, just relax,” Steve says with a soft smile and kisses the top of Bucky’s hair. He takes the sponge and some soap, then he washes Bucky’s body. Beginning on his shoulders with a slight massage included to his arms and down his muscular chest and abs. Then he moves to Bucky’s back, massaging the tensed muscles while he rubs the dry skin off and cleans Bucky. “Mhm, doing so good, baby. Showers can be really relaxing for tense muscles, and you will feel all fresh, and your skin will be soft like the one of a baby.”

“Stevie…” Bucky whines, playfully this time. The brunette's lips twitch slightly, and he leans further back against his boyfriend's firm chest. “Don’t say that; that’s embarrassing.”

“But it makes you laugh,” Steve argues. He snakes his hands to Bucky’s legs and finishes cleaning his boyfriend, who’s starting to play with the showerhead. Bucky smirks when he washes away the soap the moment Steve inches a moment away. Then he turns the showerhead and holds it at Steve’s shoulder and face, causing the blond-haired man to groan when the water hits his face. “Bucky!”

“Stevie!” Bucky smirks, turning the shower head back. Steve laughs softly and takes the showerhead to wash the soap away, then he turns it off and clicks it back in its place.

The blond-haired man gets up, opening the door of the shower and stepping out. He keeps an eye on his boyfriend, who’s slowly getting up as well. Bucky’s still smiling, his whole body less tense, and he walks out as well.

Steve holds a towel in his arms, grinning as he walks closer and wraps Bucky in the towel before he grabs himself a towel and wraps it around his own body.

“I’m proud of you, Bucky. I know it’s not easy for you to shower with all that stuff that reminds you of your past. But I’m proud of you for taking the shower,” Steve says, placing his hands on Bucky’s waist to pull him closer. Bucky smiles softly, his cheeks heating up, and he leans closer to press his lips softly against Steve’s.

“You’re my rock, Stevie. And you owe me fast food, hot chocolate, movies, and cuddles,” Bucky whispers against the plump lips of his boyfriend. Steve nods, knowing that’s Bucky’s way to say thank you and I love you when it comes to stuff that includes his past trauma. “Burgers… and more burgers, and those cute dino nuggets — these are great, and you love them just as much as I do.”

“I do, but I still love you the most,” Steve smirks, causing Bucky to blush further. He brings his lips to Bucky’s once more, chuckling into the kiss. Steve’s hands remain on Bucky’s waist while Bucky wraps his around Steve’s neck — the metal arm making Steve shiver slightly when the cold hits his skin, while Bucky’s other hand is so warm and soft — and pulls him even closer, growling playfully.

Taglist: @rogersbarber @loki-laufeyson68 @etherealdisneyvillainness @winterschildren8 @pono-pura-vida @kimmie113080 @sergeantbarnessdoll @sebastianstanisahotmf @mercurial-chuckles @holylulusworld @randomawesomeperson102 @looking1016 @multiversefanfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @alexxavicry @gremlin-girly @iris-xoxo-juhu @fckedupandbeautiful @casa-boiardi @blackhawkfanatic @mrsalexstan @thesarcasmqueen-22 @blackhawkfanatic @casa-boiardi @kandis-mom @armystay89 @blackhawkfanatic @queen-honeybee-stories @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princesscore-angel @bamitzzsam [tag yourself]

#wintershieldbingo #Stucky #Steve x Bucky #Bucky x Steve #Bucky Barnes x Steve rogers #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stevebucky #buckysteve #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #stucky angst #Stucky fluff #stucky oneshot #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #stucky fic #stucky fanfiction

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reverieblondie · 2 days ago

Text

WIP Folder

Rules: Make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous and tag AS MANY PEOPLE AS YOU HAVE WIPS

People send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then you post a snippet or tell them something about it!

There's more Wips I just can't in good faith list them all as I'd have to basically tag all my moots

Thank you @ladyofcrowsandcoffee for being interested enough to see my folder of chaos. (I'm about to feel so exposed about some of these titles.) These are all my OG ideas not including request!

Domestic Bliss

Dark!Rolan x Innocent Reader

Corrupted

Cal x Lae'zel part 3 (final)

Snowed In

Boat Captain

Professor Parker

Professor Miggy

Help Wanted

Gym Buddy

Brat Tamming

Healing You

Big Bad Wolf

We need a Bard

Lumberjacks (?)

Taken away by your new husband

Rolan goes to Caress

The Drids Mate

Weird Girl

Vingette 2 (shadowheart and Gale)

Dark prince rolan chapter 4

tagging! @dark-and-kawaii @darkurgetrash @dutifullylazybread @vera-king-hrfl @lemonsrosesandlavender @lazyjellyfish300 @buck-star @graysparrowao3 and @ultravioletrayz

#askreverie #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfiction #atsv fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #peter b x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barns fanfiction

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capsiclecevans · 2 days ago

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"come to bed with me"

Warnings: fluff, a little emotional, AU where Jacob did die at the end of Defending Jacob

Summary: Andy and Reader are reeling from your first major argument after moving in together and try to deal with the issue together.

Word Count: 1,291

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

⭐︎ ashleigh’s masterlist ⭐︎ | ☾ ashleigh’s taglist ☽

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It had been going on for hours now, the screaming and fighting. You and Andy had argued before this, but not this much. You had never seen Andy this angry before, over something he hasn’t even told you about yet. He was in a foul mood when he had gotten home from work, probably a run in with Neil (again), but he hadn’t told you what it was about. He had scolded you for even being near him when he was in this mood which you pushed back, making his anger rise more than you have ever seen it rise before.

You were sat on the couch quietly, wiping your silent tears away as you stare at the fireplace, trying to listen to where Andy was in the house. Hoping that you won’t have to speak to him until tomorrow, when his mood might have improved and he has realised that he took his anger out on the wrong person. Heck, if it came to it you would even sleep on the couch or in the spare bedroom if you really had to avoid him and his temper.

It was the first major argument you have had with Andy since you have moved in with him. You didn’t expect that you would have one that would be blown out of proportion just because Andy was in a bad mood from work. You knew that he didn’t mean to take his anger out on you but you were the only one in the house for him to do so. Maybe, this is what happened when he was with Laurie, maybe this is how she felt? But they were a happy family, weren’t they? Until she ruined everything after Jacob’s trial, killing him because she didn’t believe that he was truly innocent, making Andy leave her and in turn fall in love with you.

He went out for a run to “calm down”, hopefully he will be in a bit of a better mood but that hadn’t happened as he slammed the door when he walked in, stalking upstairs to have a shower as you made dinner for you both quietly. That was 20 minutes ago and he is still to appear downstairs.

You sigh a little to yourself, moving off the couch to go and grab a blanket, wanting to alleviate the chill you felt from his mood. Usually Andy always tried to cuddle with you once he was back from a run as a joke, knowing that he was sweaty and needed a shower first. But, for the first time since living together, he didn’t.

You weren’t even sure what was playing on the TV as you were just thinking about the shouting match you both had when he arrived home, you were so inside your own head and thoughts that you didn’t hear Andy walk downstairs slowly to come and find you as it was later than expected and you were usually getting ready for bed by now.

You finally look up at your boyfriend when he sits next to you slowly, his hair still damp from his shower and the most guilty look on his face. His anger seems to have evaporated whilst he was in the shower. You hadn’t been able to stop crying since he left for his run and the look on his face just breaks your heart as he can see the tears in your eyes.

“Oh baby…” He murmurs before cupping your cheeks in his hands to wipe away the tears away with his thumbs slowly “I am so sorry that I made you cry…I am sorry that I shouted at you…I am so sorry…” He whispers as he focuses on your tears.

You close your eyes as he takes gentle care whilst holding your face in his hands. Taking a deep breath before opening your eyes to look at him, you melt into his touch slowly. Your Andy was back and you were eternally grateful as you knew that you would not have been able to not join him in your bed.

“I have never seen you that angry…” You whisper as you look back at Andy and he nods slowly. A frown graces his face as he remembers how he treated you when he arrived home from the worst day at work he has had in a while.

He lets a long breath before nodding slowly, his eyes flicking back to yours and he pulls you into his arms. His embrace was comforting, even though he was the one who made you feel like this. “Neil wants to look at Jacob’s case again, the Rifkin’s still do not believe that Jacob is innocent in Ben’s murder…” He says as he holds you close. You could hear the anger in his voice, his son was dead because his own mother didn’t believe him when he said he was innocent, and now the case was going to be looked at again to put the blame on a dead 14-year-old when he was found not guilty originally.

Andy’s anger earlier was completely justified now you know why he was kicking off. He was going to have to re-live one of the most traumatising parts of his life again, and his son’s death because no-one believed that his son was innocent. Apart from the two of you. When Andy opened up and told you about those traumatic months of his life, you knew that he had fought for his son’s innocence with every fibre of his being, and you believed him when he said that Jacob was innocent. You just knew. You knew that Andy wasn’t lying when he said that Jacob was innocent.

“Oh Andy…” You say and you look at him sadly, stroking his cheek gently as you watch his reaction carefully. He seems to relax a little as you stroke his cheek, like you were his rock, his support system. “I am so sorry that you have to re-live everything that happened to you and Jacob again, to prove his innocence yet again…that isn’t right what they are doing…”

Andy sighs and nods before pressing a light kiss to your head as he holds you closer to him, neither of you knew what to say now. Andy’s life was going back under the microscope when it shouldn’t be.

“Come to bed with me…”

He said it so softly that you wouldn’t have been able to catch the five words out if the TV wasn’t muted and you weren’t cuddled up to him in his lap. A small smile plays on your lips as you realise that he does still want to share a bed with you tonight, even after the argument you had when he arrived home.

You look up at him through your lashes before pressing a kiss to his stubble. “Of course I will…I would go anywhere with you…” You whisper against his skin in a promise that you would not be looking at breaking any time soon, since you were deeply in love with the man that you were sharing this house with.

Andy’s smile is small when he looks down at you, his eyes glistening with tears before he nods and stands up from the couch, holding his hand out for you to take and head up to bed with him.

You look at him before taking his hand, standing up with him and walks up to your bedroom, knowing that the fight wasn’t over, but you were glad the fight wasn’t between you and Andy anymore. It was against the two of you and the rest of the world who want to contest Jacob’s innocence when he is no longer here to fight himself.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

taglist:

To join my taglist, just fill out this ☾ ashleigh’s taglist ☽

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zaraomarrogers · 2 days ago

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Back to December

Pairing: Lumberjack! Steve Rogers x Fem! Stark reader

WC: 17,616

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, mutual pining, implied smut, mentions of breakup, mention of cheating, 18+ content, single dad Steve

Prompts: Steve + Winter holidays + Lumberjack AU + I love you

Summary: Steve and Y/n's story is one of love, heartbreak, and reconciliation. Once deeply in love, their young romance ended when Y/n’s father, Tony, interfered, believing they needed to focus on their individual futures. Devastated, Steve enlisted in the army and later became a single father to Emma, who became his anchor during difficult times.

A/n: This is my entry for @stellar-solar-flare 's Stella's Starry Winter Sky Event. Thank you Stella, for hosting the event and letting me participate, I'm still very new to writing, and with Lumberjack - single dad Steve, I got carried away. This is not beta'd. all mistakes are mine.

The train rumbled steadily along the tracks, the rhythmic clatter of wheels against steel blending with the soft hum of conversation in the carriage. Y/n sat by the window, her chin resting on her palm as she gazed out at the snow-dusted countryside. Her breath fogged the glass as the familiar landscapes of her hometown came into view, awakening memories she had thought were long buried.

It had been years since she’d been back—years spent carving out a life for herself in the towering chaos of New York City. Yet, as the train approached her destination, the pull of the past was undeniable. Every stretch of snow-covered field, every shadowed outline of the distant woods, brought back flashes of a childhood she had tucked away in the corners of her heart.

She thought of Wanda and Nat, her partners in every mischievous scheme they had cooked up in school. She thought of Bucky, with his easy laughter and protective nature. And then, unbidden, she thought of him. Steve Rogers.

The memories of Steve were vivid, sharper than she expected after all these years. She could see him as clearly as if it were yesterday — leaning against the lockers, his blond hair catching the light, his blue eyes crinkling with a smile just for her. They had been inseparable once, two halves of the same whole, navigating the trials of high school side by side. She thought of their first kiss, stolen on the bleachers one chilly autumn evening. It had been awkward and sweet, the kind of kiss that lingered in your memory forever.

The whistle of the train jolted her from her thoughts. She shook her head, as if she could dislodge the past from her mind. But the memories clung to her, unwilling to let go. She gathered her bag and stepped off the train into the crisp winter air, her boots crunching against the snow. The town looked the same, yet somehow different—smaller, quieter, and wrapped in the gentle nostalgia of familiarity.

Her parents’ ranch was just as she remembered it, the sprawling fields blanketed in white, the wooden fence lined with twinkling holiday lights. Yet, instead of going straight inside, Y/n felt a pull toward the woods at the edge of the property. She had spent so many hours there as a child, building forts with her friends, laughing until her sides ached.

And that’s when she saw him.

Steve Rogers, dressed in a plaid shirt and sturdy boots, stood in a clearing, his axe raised mid-swing. His broad shoulders flexed as he brought the axe down, splitting a log cleanly in two. He looked different now, older, more rugged. But the sight of him working among the towering trees, the snow falling softly around him, sent a jolt through Y/n.

For a moment, she couldn’t move. Memories of him flooded her mind—the way he used to wait for her after class, the sound of his laugh, the way he’d held her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. She remembered the way her heart had raced when he leaned in to kiss her for the first time, the way his lips had felt against hers, tentative but full of promise.

Steve must have sensed her presence because he straightened and turned, his eyes meeting hers. For a second, neither of them moved, the years melting away in the silence between them. His expression shifted from surprise to something softer, something she couldn’t quite place.

“Y/n?” His voice carried through the crisp air, warm and familiar, like the pages of an old book she had loved and forgotten.

Her breath caught, her throat tightening. She wanted to say something, anything, but the weight of her emotions was too much. Every happy memory was tinged with pain, every moment of joy shadowed by the heartbreak he had caused.

Steve took a step toward her, his movements tentative, like he wasn’t sure she was real. “You’re back,” he said softly, the words filled with something like hope.

Y/n’s grip on her suitcase tightened. She took a step back, her pulse pounding in her ears. The urge to confront him, to ask why he had done what he did, warred with the need to protect herself from the hurt that lingered even now.

Before Steve could say another word, she turned on her heel, her suitcase rolling behind her. She didn’t trust herself to speak, to look at him for another second without breaking.

“Y/n—wait!” he called after her, his voice filled with urgency.

But she didn’t stop. The tears prickled at the corners of her eyes as she walked away, her boots crunching in the snow. She couldn’t face him, not yet. The past was too heavy, the wounds too fresh, no matter how much time had passed.

As she left the woods behind, her heart ached with a mixture of longing and bitterness. Steve Rogers had once been her whole world. And now, he was a reminder of everything she had lost.

~*~

The sound of an axe biting into wood echoed through the quiet expanse of the forest. Steve Rogers wiped the sweat from his brow, his breath visible in the crisp winter air. It had been a long day, the kind that pushed his muscles to the limit but left him with the satisfying ache of hard, honest work. His team was scattered across the woods, each man focused on their task, the rhythm of their labour blending into the serene hum of the forest.

Steve leaned against a felled log, catching his breath. The plaid shirt he wore was dusted with sawdust, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He glanced around the clearing, the familiar sights of towering trees and snow-dappled earth grounding him in the routine he had come to rely on. Life had changed so much in the past few years—he had a six-year-old daughter now, Emma, who was the centre of his world. His priorities revolved around her, and he liked it that way.

But when he turned his head toward the trail, his heart stopped.

Y/n.

She stood a short distance away, framed by the bare trees and soft light filtering through the canopy. She looked the same and yet different—her features sharper, her stance more self-assured, but her eyes still carried the spark he remembered. She was dressed for the cold, her scarf trailing down her coat, her suitcase at her side like a subtle declaration that she didn’t intend to stay long.

The sight of her hit him like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from his lungs. He hadn’t seen her in years, and yet, here she was, as if time had folded in on itself and brought her back to him.

“Y/n?” he said before he could stop himself, the word slipping out with equal parts wonder and hesitation.

Her eyes locked onto his, and he felt a jolt of something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. Happiness. Shock. Fear. A sweet, aching kind of stress that threatened to undo the careful balance he had built in his life.

Steve stood rooted to the spot, watching Y/n’s figure retreat into the forest, her suitcase trailing behind her. Each step she took away from him felt like a blow to his chest, an ache he couldn’t ignore. He had imagined this moment for years—what it would feel like to see her again, what he would say—but reality had blindsided him. Instead of joy or closure, he felt the familiar sting of regret, raw and unyielding.

His axe hung loosely in his hand as the noise of the woods—chopping, distant voices of his team—faded into the background. The memory of Y/n’s guarded expression replayed in his mind, and he hated himself for being the cause of it. The pain in her eyes was unmistakable, and it cut deeper than any blade ever could.

He set the axe down and took a few steps toward a nearby log, sinking onto it heavily. His breathing was uneven, his hand instinctively coming to rest over his chest as if he could hold the pain there, keep it from spreading. He had prepared himself for so many things in his life, but nothing could have prepared him for seeing her walk away from him again.

Steve pulled out his phone with trembling hands, scrolling through his contacts until he found the name he needed. He hit the call button and brought the phone to his ear, his jaw clenching as he waited for the line to connect.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice came through, steady and familiar.

“She’s here,” Steve said, his voice shaking. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself, but the words came tumbling out. “Y/n. She’s back.”

There was a pause on the other end, and then Bucky’s voice softened. “Y/n’s back? Where did you see her?”

“In the woods,” Steve replied, running a hand through his hair. “She… she walked right past me. I tried to talk to her, but she just—she left, Buck.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he cursed himself for how raw he sounded.

Bucky’s tone was calm but firm, the way it always was when Steve needed grounding. “Take a deep breath, man. What did she say?”

“Nothing,” Steve admitted, shaking his head even though Bucky couldn’t see him. “She didn’t say much. She looked at me like—like she didn’t know whether to yell at me or cry. And then she just walked away.” He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his head hanging low. “I thought I was ready for this, but seeing her… I don’t know, Buck. It’s like all the years I’ve spent trying to move on just disappeared the second I saw her.”

“You never really moved on,” Bucky said gently. “You might’ve told yourself you did, for Emma’s sake, but you’ve been carrying this with you the whole time.”

Steve closed his eyes, his grip tightening on the phone. “What do I do? How do I fix this? She hates me, Buck.”

“You don’t know that” Bucky replied. “She’s hurt, sure, but hate? That’s a strong word, and I don’t think it’s true. You need to give her time. Let her settle back in. You’ll get your chance to talk to her. Just… don’t let the guilt eat you alive in the meantime.”

Steve let out a heavy sigh, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know if I deserve a second chance, not after everything I’ve done.”

“Maybe not,” Bucky said, his voice unwavering. “But you’ve got Emma now. She’s your second chance, Steve. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re not the kind of man who gives up on the people he loves. You’ll figure it out. Just… take it one step at a time.”

Steve nodded, even though the weight in his chest hadn’t lessened. “Thanks, Buck. I needed that.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Bucky said with a small chuckle. “Now get back to work before your team thinks you’ve gone soft.”

Steve managed a weak smile. “Yeah, right.”

But as the call ended and the forest grew quiet again, Steve remained seated on the log, staring at the spot where Y/n had disappeared. One step at a time, Bucky had said. But Steve couldn’t shake the feeling that, with Y/n, every step would feel like walking uphill in the snow.

And yet, for her, he was willing to try.

~*~

Y/n's arrival at the Stark family ranch was met with warm embraces and bright smiles. Tony Stark, always the charismatic presence, pulled his eldest daughter into a tight hug, his grin wide beneath the streaks of grey peppering his beard.

“There’s my girl,” he said, holding her at arm’s length to take her in. “New York’s been treating you well, huh? You look good, kiddo.”

Pepper was next, her embrace softer but no less full of love. “We’ve missed you; Y/n. Morgan’s been talking about you nonstop since she found out you were coming home.”

Y/n managed a faint smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve missed you guys too,” she said, her tone genuine but subdued.

Morgan, her bright and bubbly younger half-sister, came running down the hall, squealing with excitement as she threw herself at Y/n. “Y/n/n! You’re here!”

Y/n laughed, catching her and spinning her around. “I’m here, Momo,” she said, using the nickname she’d given Morgan years ago. “Have you been behaving for Mom and Dad?”

Morgan giggled, nodding vigorously. “Mostly. But now that you’re here, we can have fun!”

Tony chuckled. “Don’t let her rope you into too much mischief. You’ve barely just arrived.”

As the family settled into the living room, Y/n found herself surrounded by warmth and laughter, the kind of atmosphere she had missed more than she realized. Pepper brought out a tray of tea and cookies, and Morgan immediately began showing Y/n a stack of drawings she’d made for her.

But as the afternoon wore on, Y/n’s smile began to wane. Her thoughts drifted back to the woods, to the shock of seeing Steve again, and the memories that had come rushing in uninvited. The ache in her chest was too much to ignore.

Pepper, ever the perceptive one, noticed Y/n’s change in demeanour. She placed a gentle hand on her shoulder when they were alone in the kitchen, away from Tony and Morgan. “You okay, Y/n?” she asked softly, her voice filled with concern.

Y/n hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of the countertop. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Just tired from the trip.”

Pepper didn’t push, knowing better than to pry. “Alright,” she said gently. “But if you need to talk, I’m here. No judgment, just listening.”

Y/n nodded, grateful for her stepmother’s understanding, even if she wasn’t ready to open up just yet.

She spent the rest of the day holed up in her room, the familiar comfort of her childhood sanctuary doing little to ease her restless thoughts. Her phone buzzed repeatedly on the nightstand—texts from Nat, Wanda, and even Bucky. She ignored them all, her thumb hovering over the screen before setting it down again.

Instead, she sat by the window, gazing out at the sprawling fields of the ranch, the sun dipping low over the horizon. The golden light painted the landscape in hues of warmth, but Y/n couldn’t shake the chill that had settled in her chest.

As the evening turned into night, she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. The ranch was quiet, save for the occasional creak of the house settling. But her mind was anything but still.

She wasn’t ready to face her friends or the questions that would inevitably come. Not yet. For now, she needed time to process, to gather her strength. Because if she knew one thing, it was that coming back home was going to be far more complicated than she’d anticipated.

The Stark ranch was quiet that morning, the warm sunlight streaming through the living room windows. Y/n was sitting on the couch, half-listening to Morgan chatter about her favourite new toys. She smiled and nodded along; her mind preoccupied with everything she’d been avoiding since her arrival.

Then the sound of a car pulling up outside caught her attention. Moments later, the front door opened, and Y/n glanced up to see Pepper greeting someone warmly.

“Come on in, sweetheart,” Pepper said with a cheerful tone.

A little blonde girl stepped inside, clutching a small backpack and looking around with wide, curious eyes. Her resemblance to someone Y/n knew all too well hit her like a punch to the chest.

“Emma, this is Morgan’s big sister, Y/n,” Pepper introduced with a smile.

Emma shifted on her feet, clutching her backpack straps a little tighter. “Hi,” she said softly, her voice as shy as her demeanour.

Y/n froze, her mind racing. Emma? Steve’s daughter? She felt her heart plummet, the weight of realization crashing down on her. She managed a weak smile and a nod, muttering a quiet “Hi” in return before excusing herself.

Morgan didn’t seem to notice Y/n’s reaction, too excited about her playdate. She grabbed Emma’s hand and led her toward the toy corner, their laughter echoing in the room as Y/n hurried upstairs, her steps quick and uneven.

Once in her room, Y/n closed the door and leaned against it, her chest heaving with the effort of keeping her emotions in check. Steve had a daughter. A daughter old enough to be in school, old enough to have a personality, and old enough to remind Y/n of everything she and Steve had lost.

She sat on the edge of her bed, her head in her hands as tears streamed down her face. Memories of their past, of the life they’d once imagined together, collided painfully with the reality before her. The idea that Steve had moved on, built a life without her—it was too much.

Hours passed as Y/n let herself grieve, her tears giving way to quiet resolve. She couldn’t change the past, but she could control how she faced the present. She had come back to her hometown for a reason, and running from her emotions wouldn’t solve anything.

Wiping her eyes and straightening her shoulders, Y/n got up and paced the room, talking herself into finding her strength. She wasn’t the same girl who had left this town years ago. She was older now, tougher, and more confident. She could handle this.

Picking up her phone, she scrolled through the missed calls and texts from Nat, Wanda, and Bucky. With a deep breath, she hit the call button on Nat’s number.

“Finally,” Nat answered almost immediately, her voice sharp but laced with concern. “I was about to send a search party.”

“Sorry,” Y/n said, her voice steadier than she felt. “I’ve just been... processing. Are you guys free? I thought maybe you could come over.”

There was a pause, then a teasing, “About time. We’re on our way.”

After the call, Y/n smoothed her hair, touched up her face, and made her way downstairs. Emma and Morgan were still in the living room, their heads bent together over a set of building blocks. Emma looked up as Zara entered, her shy smile returning.

“Hi, Y/n,” Emma said, her voice a little more confident now.

Y/n smiled back, her chest tightening but this time with something gentler. “Hi, Emma. What are you two building?”

“A castle!” Morgan exclaimed, holding up a small tower of blocks.

Emma nodded enthusiastically. “Morgan said you can help if you want.”

Y/n hesitated, then crouched down to their level. “A castle, huh? I think I can manage that.”

As the afternoon went on, Y/n found herself drawn into their world of imagination and laughter. Emma, to her surprise, began to open, chatting shyly about her favourite colours and stories while Morgan egged her on.

By the time Nat and Wanda arrived, Y/n was laughing along with the girls, a small piece of her heart mending as she realized that perhaps she could face the future after all.

The warm golden light of the afternoon poured through the windows of the Stark ranch, bathing the living room in a cozy glow. Y/n sat on the couch, her legs tucked under her, with a mug of steaming cocoa in her hands. Across from her, Wanda and Nat were sprawled comfortably, their faces alight with laughter and nostalgia. It had been years since they’d all been together like this, and for the first time since her return, Y/n felt a flicker of comfort.

“I still can’t believe you’re engaged!” Y/n exclaimed, looking at Wanda with genuine delight. “You and Bucky... It’s perfect, honestly. I always thought you two would end up together.”

Wanda blushed, a shy smile spreading across her face as she twirled the engagement ring on her finger. “He’s my rock. I mean, he’s still as stubborn as ever, but... I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Nat chuckled, her sharp green eyes sparkling with amusement. “And speaking of surprises, guess who’s dating a brainiac these days?”

Y/n arched a brow, looking at Nat. “No way. You? Who?”

Nat smirked; her tone deliberately casual. “Dr. Bruce Banner.”

Y/n nearly choked on her cocoa. “The scientist? The one who’s always on TV talking about gamma radiation and saving the world with his brain?”

“That’s the one,” Nat confirmed, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “He’s... different. Calm. Kind. He grounds me, you know?”

The conversation flowed easily, the three of them slipping back into the rhythm of their friendship, sharing stories and laughter. But as the light outside began to fade, a quieter moment settled over the group.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to Y/n, and she found herself hesitating when they asked about her time in New York. She admitted she’d been working hard but felt a deep emptiness she couldn’t shake. Nat and Wanda exchanged a glance before Wanda decided to break the silence.

"Y/n, we never stopped rooting for you and Steve," Wanda said gently. "I know it's been years, but... he struggled after you two broke up."

Y/n blinked, her heart squeezing. "What do you mean?"

Nat sighed; her tone soft but serious. "After your breakup, Steve threw himself into everything he could—work, enlisting, anything to keep himself busy. But it was obvious he was hurting."

Wanda nodded, adding, "And when Emma came into his life, she became his whole world. He’s an incredible father, Y/n, but it wasn’t easy for him. Raising a child on his own, balancing everything... it’s a lot."

Y/n swallowed hard, her fingers tightening around her now empty mug. "I had no idea. I mean, I always thought he moved on and was fine. But hearing this... it makes me feel awful."

Nat reached out, squeezing Y/n’s hand. "It wasn’t your fault, Y/n. You didn’t know. But Steve’s been through a lot."

Wanda hesitated before saying, "There’s more to his story, but it’s not our place to share it. If you’re ready, talk to him. He deserves that chance."

Y/n nodded slowly, her emotions a whirlwind of guilt, sadness, and something she couldn’t quite name. She had been so focused on her own pain, on the heartbreak she’d carried for years, that she hadn’t considered what Steve might have endured.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Wanda reached over, placing a comforting hand on Y/n’s arm. “Because we know you still care about him. And because he deserves a chance to tell you his side of the story.”

Y/n looked down at her mug, her thoughts racing. The man she had seen in the woods wasn’t just the boy she had loved and lost. He was someone who had been shaped by heartbreak, sacrifice, and resilience. And for the first time, she wondered if there might still be a place for her in his life—and in Emma’s.

The soft glow of the setting sun filtered through the large windows of the ranch's living room, casting a golden hue over the cozy gathering. The air was filled with warmth and nostalgia, the kind that only comes from reconnecting with old friends.

Morgan had claimed her usual spot beside Y/n, snuggled against her side as she listened intently to the women talk, occasionally chiming in with her youthful curiosity. Emma, on the other hand, had hesitated for a moment, her small hands clutching the edge of her sweater as she lingered by Morgan’s side.

Y/n noticed the hesitation and gave Emma a gentle, inviting smile. “You can sit here too, Emma,” she said softly, patting the space beside her.

Emma’s eyes brightened just a little, and she shuffled closer, climbing up onto the couch. At first, she sat with a small gap between her and Y/n, but as the conversation continued and the atmosphere grew lighter, Emma found herself leaning into Y/n’s warmth. Soon, she was snuggled against Y/n, just like Morgan, her little head resting against Y/n’s arm.

Tony stood in the doorway, watching the scene unfold from a distance. His sharp eyes softened as he took in the sight of his eldest daughter surrounded by love and laughter, with two little girls nestled close to her. It was a picture of familial warmth, one he hadn’t seen in years, and it tugged at something deep inside him.

Pepper approached him quietly, her curious gaze following his line of sight. “What’s on your mind, Tony?” she asked gently, sensing the weight in his expression.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he wrestled with his emotions. “Just... thinking about how much time we’ve lost with her,” he admitted, his voice low and tinged with regret.

Pepper studied him for a moment, her intuition picking up on the guilt that clouded his features. “There’s something more, isn’t there?”

Tony exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Pep, there’s a reason Y/n stayed away for so long. And... it’s partly my fault.”

Her brows furrowed, but she didn’t press him, giving him the space to continue.

“When Y/n and Steve were young, they were inseparable,” Tony said, his gaze never leaving Y/n as she laughed softly at something Morgan whispered. “They had these big dreams, but they were so caught up in each other. I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing by stepping in. I told Steve he needed to let her go so she could focus on her future, her career. And he listened to me. He broke her heart because I asked him to.”

Pepper’s hand came up to her chest, her eyes widening in surprise. “Tony... you never told me that.”

“I thought I was protecting her,” he said, his voice thick with remorse. “But all I did was push her away. She’s been carrying that hurt for years, and I don’t even know if she can forgive me for it. Seeing her now, with Emma, with Morgan... I can see what I took from her. From them.”

Pepper placed a comforting hand on his arm, her expression softening. “You made a mistake, Tony. But you have a chance to make it right. This time, you can show her how much you regret what happened. Support her, be there for her. It’s not too late to undo some of the damage.”

Tony nodded, his heart heavy but resolute. As he watched Y/n lean down to kiss Morgan’s forehead and gently brush Emma’s hair back from her face, he silently vowed to do whatever it took to make amends.

In the living room, Y/n felt the warmth of the two little girls beside her and the laughter of her friends around her, a bittersweet mix of emotions swirling within her. She had come back to her hometown to escape her memories, but it seemed they were determined to catch up with her.

And maybe, just maybe, it was time to face them head-on.

The early evening had draped the town in a gentle chill, the streets glowing with festive lights and a promise of the holiday cheer to come. Steve wiped his hands on a rag as he finished up his work for the day, his mind restless. Thoughts of Y/n occupied him constantly since her return, but the weight of his hesitation kept him from reaching out.

When Bucky pulled up in his truck, Steve wasn’t entirely surprised. His best friend always had a way of nudging him toward the things he avoided.

“You off the clock?” Bucky asked, leaning casually out of the driver’s side window.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, folding the rag and tossing it into his work bag.

“Good. I’m headed to pick Wanda up. She’s hanging out with Y/n, Nat, and the kids over at Stark’s place. Thought you might want to tag along.”

Steve stiffened at the mention of Y/n. “I’ll just grab Emma from outside when she’s ready. No need for me to go in.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shutting the truck door and hopping out to stand next to Steve. “Rogers, you’ve been dragging your feet ever since Y/n got back. Don’t you think it’s time to stop hiding?”

“I’m not hiding,” Steve said defensively, but the look Bucky gave him said otherwise.

“She’s here, Steve. You can’t just keep avoiding her. Besides, it’s not just about you. Emma loves spending time there, and whether you like it or not, Y/n’s part of her life now.”

Steve sighed, knowing Bucky was right but still reluctant. “Fine. But just for a little bit.”

With a smirk, Bucky clapped him on the shoulder. “Atta boy.”

When they arrived at the ranch, the warm glow from inside the house was inviting, the sound of laughter spilling out onto the porch. Steve’s resolve wavered, but before he could change his mind, Bucky gave him a light shove toward the door.

Wanda greeted them with a grin, pulling Bucky into a quick kiss before dragging him inside. “Pepper’s insisting everyone stay for dinner,” she announced, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Steve hesitated, standing just inside the doorway, his gaze scanning the room. Y/n was there, sitting on the couch with Morgan and Emma perched beside her, their giggles mingling with Nat’s teasing remarks. For a moment, Steve forgot how to breathe.

Y/n looked up, her eyes meeting his. The air between them grew heavy with unspoken words and lingering memories. Her expression flickered—surprise, tension, and something else he couldn’t quite place.

“Steve, Bucky,” Pepper called from the kitchen, breaking the moment. “Come on in. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Steve shuffled into the living room, taking a seat at the far end of the couch. Emma ran over to him immediately, her face lighting up. “Daddy! Look what Morgan and I made!” She held up a colourful paper ornament, her excitement contagious.

“It’s beautiful, Em,” Steve said, his voice warm as he ruffled her hair. Y/n watched the exchange, her heart aching at how natural and loving Steve was as a father.

The evening passed with a mixture of light conversation and awkward silences between Steve and Y/n. She couldn’t help but notice the little things—the way Steve’s face softened whenever Emma spoke, how he always seemed attuned to her needs. He was a good father, and that realization tugged at something deep inside her.

As dinner wound down, talk of Christmas filled the air. The children’s excitement was infectious, and even Y/n found herself smiling despite the tension she carried.

Steve stole glances at Y/n throughout the evening, his heart heavy with the weight of the past. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words remained stuck in his throat. Christmas was only a few days away, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that this holiday season might be his only chance to set things right.

~*~

The soft morning sunlight streamed through the curtains of Steve’s modest home, casting a warm glow across the cozy interior. Steve knelt by Emma’s bed, brushing her golden hair into two neat braids. Emma, ever the chatterbox, swung her legs excitedly as she recounted her latest adventures at the ranch.

“And then Y/n said my snowman was the best one she’d ever seen!” Emma exclaimed, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “She even gave him a scarf. Morgan said it looked silly, but Y/n said it was stylish.”

Steve chuckled, tying off the first braid and starting on the second. “Sounds like Y/n knows a thing or two about snowman fashion.”

Emma nodded enthusiastically. “She’s really nice, Daddy. Did you know she can braid hair like a princess? She did mine yesterday, and Morgan’s too. It looked so pretty!”

Steve smiled softly, his heart warming at the thought. “Yeah, I bet she’s good at that. Y/n’s always been good at making people feel special.”

Emma tilted her head, looking up at her dad curiously. “Did you know Y/n when you were my age?”

Steve paused, the hairbrush still in his hand. “Not when I was your age, no. But I knew her when I was a little older than you. We went to school together.”

“Were you friends?” Emma asked, her voice filled with innocent curiosity.

Steve finished the second braid, tying it off with a pink ribbon. He smiled wistfully, sitting back on his heels. “Yeah, we were. She was one of my best friends.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Really? Did you have fun together like I do with Morgan?”

“We did,” Steve said softly, his thoughts drifting back to those days. “Y/n and I had a lot of fun together. She’s always been funny and smart, just like you’ve seen.”

Emma beamed at the comparison. “I like her, Daddy. I miss her when she’s not at the ranch.”

Steve’s heart ached a little at her words. “Do you, now?”

Emma nodded vigorously. “Uh-huh. She makes everything more fun. And she smells nice, like flowers. And she tells the best stories.”

Steve chuckled, reaching out to boop Emma’s nose. “You really like her, huh?”

“Yeah,” Emma said with a giggle. Then her expression turned thoughtful. “Daddy, do you like Y/n?”

Steve felt his breath catch at the question. He looked at his daughter’s expectant face, so innocent and full of trust, and decided to answer honestly. “I do, sweetheart. Y/n’s... special.”

Emma’s smile grew even wider. “Good. ’cause I think she likes us too.”

Steve’s heart squeezed at Emma’s words. He wished it were that simple.

“Well,” he said, lifting Emma off the bed and setting her on the floor, “we’re lucky to have her around for the holidays, aren’t we?”

Emma nodded. “Yeah! Maybe she can come over again soon?”

Steve smiled, kissing her hair gently. “Maybe. Let’s finish getting you ready first, okay?”

As Emma chattered on about all the things she wanted to show Y/n next, Steve couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Emma’s innocent joy reminded him of the good things still left in life—and maybe, just maybe, a chance to fix what was broken.

~*~

As Y/n settled back into the rhythm of her hometown, spending more time with her friends—including Steve—things began to shift in ways neither of them had anticipated. What started as casual group hangouts—bonfires by the lake, game nights at Bucky and Wanda’s, or lazy afternoons at the café—turned into something more. There was a magnetic pull between them, subtle at first, but undeniable.

It was the little things that caught Y/n off guard. The way Steve’s eyes would linger on her when he thought she wasn’t looking. The soft timbre of his laugh when she cracked a joke, a sound she hadn’t realized she missed. The way he’d instinctively help her with her coat or offer her his arm when the ground was icy.

For Steve, it was harder to hide how much Y/n still meant to him. He’d watch her laugh with Nat and Wanda, her eyes lighting up in that way he’d always adored, and he’d feel that familiar ache in his chest. Seeing her bond so naturally with Emma only deepened the longing. It wasn’t just nostalgia anymore—it was the realization that the feelings he had for her never truly went away.

One chilly evening, their group decided to go ice skating at the frozen pond. Y/n, not exactly graceful on skates, wobbled her way onto the ice, much to everyone’s amusement. Steve, ever the protector, skated over and offered his hand. “Need a little help?” he teased, his voice warm.

“I’ve got this,” Y/n replied, though her wobbly stance said otherwise.

But when she slipped, Steve caught her, his hands firm on her waist as he steadied her. Their faces were suddenly close, their breaths mingling in the cold air. For a moment, neither of them moved. The laughter of their friends faded into the background as their eyes met, a spark flickering between them. Y/n quickly pulled away, muttering something about needing more practice, but the moment lingered in both their minds long after.

Another time, during a group dinner at the ranch, Y/n found herself sitting across from Steve. Their knees accidentally brushed under the table, and neither of them moved to pull away. It was a simple touch, but it sent a jolt through Y/n, her cheeks flushing as she focused on her plate. Steve, for his part, couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at his lips.

Their friends weren’t blind to what was happening. Nat and Wanda exchanged knowing glances whenever Y/n and Steve were in the same room. Bucky, always one to tease, made a comment one evening about the way Steve’s attention seemed to follow Y/n wherever she went. “You’ve got it bad, Rogers,” he joked, clapping Steve on the back.

Steve didn’t deny it. He couldn’t.

But Y/n was more conflicted. The old wounds from their breakup hadn’t fully healed, yet, every time she was around Steve, she felt a warmth she hadn’t realized she missed. It scared her, but it also gave her hope.

As Christmas approached, their longing for each other became even more apparent. Whether it was decorating the town’s Christmas tree together or stealing glances at each other during a snowball fight with the kids, the connection between them was undeniable. They were both trying to navigate the unspoken feelings that had resurfaced, unsure of how to take the next step but unable to ignore what was blossoming between them.

The nights grew colder, but for Y/n and Steve, the warmth they felt in each other’s presence was enough to melt the ice that had formed around their hearts.

~*~

The house was quiet except for the faint crackle of the fireplace and the soft hum of Morgan’s voice as she played in her room. Y/n sat on the edge of her bed, gently stroking Emma’s hair. The little girl’s head rested against her chest; her cheeks still streaked with dried tears. Emma had clung to Y/n after her fall down the stairs earlier, seeking comfort in her arms, and now she was fast asleep. Her bruised forehead and the tiny split on her lip made Y/n’s heart ache.

When the knock came at the door, Y/n rose carefully, cradling Emma against her, and opened it to find Steve standing there. His expression immediately shifted to one of concern when he saw Y/n holding Emma, her injuries visible even in the dim light of the hallway.

“What happened?” he asked, stepping inside, his voice tinged with worry.

“She fell down the stairs while playing with Morgan,” Y/n said gently, shifting Emma slightly in her arms. “I cleaned her up, and she’s okay now, just a bit shaken. She was scared, so I let her stay close. She finally fell asleep.”

Steve’s face softened as he approached, brushing a hand over Emma’s hair. “She used to get sick a lot when she was a baby,” he murmured, his voice low as if speaking more to himself than Y/n. “Every little thing worried me back then—fevers, colds, scrapes. I’d stay up all night, holding her, just to make sure she was okay.”

Y/n watched him, her heart twisting at the tenderness in his voice. “It must have been so hard,” she said softly, her fingers still running through Emma’s blonde curls.

Steve nodded, taking a shaky breath. “I didn’t know what I was doing half the time, but I just... figured it out. She became my whole world, and I couldn’t let her down.” He glanced at Y/n, his blue eyes heavy with emotion. “You’d never believe how terrified I was when I first found out I’d be raising her on my own.”

Y/n hesitated, then asked the question that had been sitting on the tip of her tongue for so long. “What happened, Steve? To Emma’s mom?”

Steve leaned against the wall, folding his arms across his chest as he looked at the sleeping child. “Her mom, Peggy... We met while I was in the army. We were together for a while, but things didn’t work out. She... cheated on me, and when she found out she was pregnant, she didn’t tell me until after Emma was born. By then, she’d made it clear she didn’t want to be a mom. So, I took Emma and left.”

Y/n’s breath caught. “She just walked away from her own child?”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. It hurt at first, but I couldn’t focus on that. Emma needed me. I didn’t have time to fall apart.”

Y/n reached out, her hand brushing his arm. “You’ve done an amazing job with her, Steve. She’s such a sweet, kind girl. That’s all because of you.”

He glanced down at her hand, then back at her. “It hasn’t been easy, but... she’s worth it. She’s my everything.”

For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of his story hanging between them. Y/n looked at Emma, her small body curled up against her chest and felt a wave of protectiveness she hadn’t expected. She thought of her own childhood, of losing her mother and how lost she’d felt until Pepper stepped into her life. Emma didn’t have her mother, but she had Steve—and now, maybe, she had Y/n too.

“You’re not alone anymore,” Y/n said softly, meeting Steve’s gaze.

Steve’s eyes searched hers, and for a moment, the years of pain and separation seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of them in that quiet, vulnerable moment.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Emma stirred slightly in Y/n’s arms, and Steve gently reached out to take her. “I should get her home,” he said, his voice steadier now.

Y/n nodded but hesitated before speaking again. “Steve... if you ever need help, with anything, just let me know. You don’t have to do this all on your own anymore.”

His lips curved into a small, grateful smile. “I appreciate that, Y/n. More than you know.”

As he carried Emma out the door, Y/n watched them go, her heart full of emotions she hadn’t expected to feel. It wasn’t just Steve she was drawn to—it was Emma too, and the possibility of being a part of something bigger than herself. Something that felt, for the first time in a long time, like home.

~*~

Steve stood in the entryway of Tony's home office; his fists clenched by his sides. He had been expecting a simple exchange of pleasantries when he came to pick up Emma for the day, but instead, Tony had requested a private conversation, and now here they were.

Tony motioned for Steve to take a seat, his eyes tired, as if carrying the weight of years of regret. There was no joy or casual banter between them—only an underlying heaviness that neither of them had acknowledged until now.

"Steve," Tony began, his voice quieter than usual. "We need to talk about Y/n."

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the familiar unease from years ago returning. "About Y/n?" He let out a sharp breath, trying to keep his composure. "I don’t think there’s anything to talk about."

Tony leaned forward; his voice filled with something Steve couldn’t quite place—was it guilt? Regret? "There is, Steve. I know you’ve been struggling with this, and I’ve seen the way Y/n’s been affected by everything. I see how sad she is. I made a mistake, a huge one. You were right when you left, but now... now I’m realizing just how wrong I was asking you to break up with her."

Steve’s chest tightened at the mention of that day—the day Tony had asked him to end things with Y/n for their futures. The day that had broken them both in ways he wasn’t sure they could recover from.

"You’re right," Tony continued, a weariness in his tone. "I can see it now. She never really got over it, and neither did you. And for that, I’m sorry. I should’ve never asked you to do it. But I see it now. I can’t ignore it anymore. I just want to fix it."

Steve’s hands tightened into fists again, the anger bubbling up from the depths of his gut. He stood up, his voice growing firm, tinged with frustration. "You can’t fix it, Tony. You can’t just come in now and try to fix things after all these years. You can’t play with our emotions like that. You think it's that easy? You think I can just forget everything? Forget the hurt, the years of pain that I carried because of your decision?"

Tony flinched slightly, but Steve didn’t give him a chance to respond.

"I broke up with Y/n because you told me to. I didn’t want to. I loved her, but you—" Steve shook his head, his voice rising. "You made me believe it was the right thing to do, for her, for us. You said we had careers to build, futures to chase. You convinced me it was for the best, that we’d both be better off. But look at what happened. Look at the wreckage left behind."

Tony’s face fell, his eyes full of sorrow. "I know, Steve. I know. And that’s why I’m saying I made a mistake. I see how she’s been affected, and I know how you’ve been affected, too. But I can’t change the past."

"Exactly," Steve replied, his voice laced with bitterness. "You can’t. And neither can I. You don’t get to tell me what to do now, or how to fix things. It’s not that simple."

Tony’s silence hung in the air, thick and heavy. Then Steve took a step forward, his voice low but resolute.

"You’re right about one thing, though," Steve continued. “Y/n deserves to know the truth. She deserves to hear it from you. You were the one who asked me to walk away from her. You were the one who asked me to break her heart. So, you owe it to her to be the one to tell her why."

Tony’s face turned a shade paler at Steve’s words, the weight of what he’d done crashing down on him in that moment. He swallowed hard, nodding slowly. "You’re right. I need to tell her."

Steve looked at Tony, his expression hard. "You’re not going to fix it by telling me what to do. You’ve got to fix this with her. She’s your daughter, Tony. It’s your responsibility now. Don’t leave it to me."

Without another word, Steve stormed out of the office, his mind racing. He wasn’t sure what had set him off more—Tony’s overbearing attitude or the underlying guilt that still gnawed at him about the past. Either way, the conversation had done nothing but make him angrier.

When Steve entered the living room, he saw Emma and Morgan playing on the floor, their laughter filling the air. For a moment, he almost felt at peace, watching the two of them in their world of pretend and innocent fun. But the anger still lingered within him, a storm he couldn’t shake.

"Em," he called, his voice more curt than he intended. "It’s time to go."

Emma didn’t look up at first, too engrossed in her play. But when she did, her face lit up with a smile. "Daddy, I don’t want to go yet. I’m playing with Morgan."

Steve’s heart sank, and the frustration from his conversation with Tony flared up again. "I said it’s time to go," he repeated, more forcefully this time.

Before Emma could protest further, Steve walked over, gently but firmly scooping her up in his arms. "Daddy, no!" Emma cried out, her small hands gripping at his shirt. "I want to stay with Morgan! Please, Daddy!"

Steve’s grip tightened slightly, and he held her close, trying to ignore the look of distress on her face. He could feel her starting to squirm, her sobs breaking his resolve, but he remained firm. The situation at Tony’s office had stirred up too much anger and pain for him to process, and he couldn’t let Emma’s pleading get in the way of what he thought was best for her—at least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

By the time they reached home, the tension between them was unbearable. Emma was still crying softly in his arms, her small body trembling with emotion. Steve set her down gently on the couch and crouched in front of her. His anger had faded, replaced by the overwhelming guilt of his actions.

"I’m sorry, kiddo," he said, his voice softening. "I shouldn’t have done that. I was angry, and I took it out on you."

Emma sniffled, wiping her eyes. "I just wanted to play with Morgan. You didn’t have to take me away from her."

Steve’s heart ached, and he pulled her into a tight hug. "I know, baby. I’m so sorry. I should’ve let you stay longer. But sometimes… sometimes things get complicated, and I don’t always know how to handle them. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my frustration."

He paused, feeling the weight of his words. He wanted to explain more—about the conversation with Tony, about his own struggles, about the way things with Y/n still haunted him—but he knew Emma was too young for all of that.

"You’re allowed to be sad," Steve continued, his voice cracking slightly. "But sometimes, I have to make decisions that aren’t easy, and they might not always make sense to you. But I promise you, I’m doing my best, okay?"

Emma clung to him, nodding slowly. "Okay, Daddy."

"Thank you for understanding," Steve whispered, kissing the top of her head. "You mean the world to me, Em. And I’ll always try to do better."

They sat like that for a while, the tension slowly melting away. Steve made a mental note to make things right—for Emma’s sake and his own.

~*~

Y/n knocked on Steve’s door, her jaw tight with frustration. Morgan stood beside her, holding a small basket of cookies they’d baked earlier. Y/n had noticed Emma’s absence for days now and couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. When Steve finally opened the door, his dishevelled appearance confirmed her suspicions.

“Y/n,” Steve said, his voice heavy with surprise and something else she couldn’t quite place.

“Steve,” Y/n replied, her tone curt. “I haven’t seen Emma in days. Is she okay?”

Steve sighed and stepped aside, letting them in. “She’s upstairs resting. She’s been feeling under the weather.”

Y/n eyes narrowed. “Under the weather? Steve, it’s freezing outside, and you’ve been taking her to work with you? What were you thinking?”

Steve’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists at his sides. “I was thinking I don’t have much of a choice, Y/n. Not everyone has the luxury of dropping everything to bake cookies and hang out at the ranch.”

Morgan flinched at his tone, and Y/n placed a calming hand on the little girl’s shoulder before turning her full attention to Steve. “That’s not fair,” she said, her voice low but firm. “I didn’t come here to fight. I came to check on Emma. She’s a child, Steve. She shouldn’t be dragged into adult problems.”

Steve ran a hand through his hair, clearly on edge. “You think I don’t know that? Do you think I want this? I’m doing the best I can, Y/n!”

“The best you can?” Y/n shot back. “Steve, you’ve always been a great father. But isolating Emma and keeping her out in the cold isn’t fair to her. Why didn’t you just bring her to the ranch? Pepper and I could’ve helped.”

Steve’s eyes flashed with frustration. “Because it’s not just about Emma! I can’t face Tony after what he said to me. I won’t let him manipulate me—or you—again.”

Zara’s anger softened slightly at his words, but she wasn’t ready to back down. “This isn’t about my dad. This is about Emma. She needs more than just you, Steve. She needs warmth, stability, and people who care about her. And whether you like it or not, I’m one of those people.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped, and for the first time, he looked truly defeated. “I know,” he admitted quietly. “I just... I didn’t know how to handle it. I’m trying to protect her, Y/n. And maybe I’m failing.”

Y/n stepped closer, her voice softening. “You’re not failing, Steve. But you can’t do this alone. You don’t have to.”

He met her gaze, the walls he’d put up slowly crumbling. “It’s hard, Y/n. It’s hard to trust again, to let someone in.”

“I know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “But Emma deserves more. And so do you.”

They stood there for a moment, the tension between them easing as the weight of unspoken emotions hung in the air.

Morgan tugged on Y/n’s hand, breaking the moment. “Can we see Emma now?”

Y/n smiled down at her. “Of course.” She turned back to Steve. “We’ll check on her, and then we’ll talk. Okay?”

Steve nodded, a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes. “Okay.”

As Y/n and Morgan headed upstairs, Steve stayed behind in the living room, taking a deep breath. For the first time in days, the loneliness didn’t feel so suffocating.

The warmth of Emma’s hug lingered as Y/n descended the stairs, her thoughts a storm of emotions. Upstairs, the sound of Emma and Morgan’s excited chatter echoed, a stark contrast to the tension she felt building in her chest.

Steve stood in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, his expression guarded. When he saw Y/n, his features softened slightly, but there was still an undercurrent of unease in his stance.

“How did you know?” Steve asked, his voice steady but tinged with curiosity.

Y/n folded her arms and tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. “Morgan told me. She’s been upset that Emma hasn’t been coming over. And when a six-year-old is upset, they tend to spill everything.”

Steve sighed and looked away, his jaw tightening.

“Steve,” Y/n pressed, taking a step closer, “what’s going on? Why are you keeping Emma away? And what exactly did my father say to you that has you acting like this?”

Steve’s eyes snapped back to hers, conflicted. “Y/n, I don’t think—”

“No,” she cut him off, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle, Steve. I’m done with people keeping things from me to ‘protect’ me. I deserve to know.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration matching hers. “It’s not that simple.”

“It never is with you, is it?” Y/n’s voice cracked, her emotions threatening to spill over. “You’re shutting me out again, Steve. Just like before.”

“That’s not fair,” he said, his tone defensive.

“No, what’s not fair is being kept in the dark about things that directly affect my life!” Y/n snapped. She shook her head, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You know what? Forget it. I’ll go ask dad myself. Maybe he’ll actually give me the truth.”

Steve stiffened but said nothing as Y/n grabbed her coat and walked out the door, her heart pounding with anger and sadness.

She arrived at the ranch, her emotions in turmoil. She found Tony in his study, nursing a glass of whiskey by the fireplace. He looked up, surprised by her abrupt entrance.

“What did you say to Steve?” Y/n demanded, not bothering with pleasantries.

Tony set down his glass, his expression shifting to one of guilt. “Y/n, I was only trying to—”

“Tell me.” She cut him off, her voice trembling.

Tony hesitated, then sighed deeply. “I told him to try and make things right with you. That I was wrong to push him to break up with you all those years ago.”

Y/n froze, her chest tightening. “You... you told him to break up with me?”

Tony nodded, his face etched with regret. “You were both so young. I thought I was doing what was best for you—for your future. I didn’t want you to be tied down or distracted. I thought I was protecting you, Y/n.”

Her eyes filled with tears as she stepped closer, her voice rising. “You thought you were protecting me? By tearing apart the only thing that made me happy. Do you even realize what you did, Dad? The years of pain and loneliness I went through. Steve and I... we could have been a family. Emma... Emma could have been my daughter!”

Tony flinched at her words, the weight of her accusation hitting him like a punch to the gut. “Y/n, I didn’t know it would turn out this way. I made a mistake. A terrible mistake.”

Y/n shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Your mistake cost me everything. And now you think you can just fix it by pushing us back together? Do you have any idea how much damage you’ve done?”

Tony opened his mouth to respond, but she held up a hand, stopping him. “I can’t do this right now. I need to think. To process all of this.”

She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Tony sitting in silence, his guilt heavier than ever. Upstairs, Y/n locked herself in her bedroom, the weight of the revelation crashing down on her.

All the possibilities of what her life could have been played out in her mind, and for the first time, she allowed herself to mourn the life she had lost—the life she could have had with Steve and Emma.

~*~

Bucky leaned back in his chair, nursing a beer as he listened to Steve with a mix of curiosity and concern. They were seated in the living room of Steve’s cabin, the cool weekend air carrying the scent of pine and freshly chopped wood.

“So, you haven’t seen Y/n since that day?” Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve shook his head, staring into the distance. “No. I dropped Emma off at the ranch yesterday, but she wasn’t around. Pepper took Emma in, and Tony didn’t say much.” He paused, his grip tightening on the bottle in his hand. “I’m pretty sure Y/n knows everything now. Tony must’ve told her.”

Bucky frowned. “You think that’s why she’s avoiding you?”

Steve nodded, his jaw clenching. “What else could it be? She came here demanding answers, and I couldn’t even give her the truth. Now she knows I didn’t fight for us, that I let her go because her dad told me to. She probably hates me for it.”

Bucky let out a low whistle. “Man, that’s heavy. But are you sure she’s avoiding you? Maybe she’s just... processing everything.”

Steve scoffed. “Processing? She’s been through hell because of decisions I made—or didn’t make. I don’t blame her for not wanting to see me.”

Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Look, I get it. You’re carrying a lot of guilt, but you need to stop assuming what Y/n’s thinking. You’re not doing yourself or her any favour by hiding out here and playing the martyr.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What am I supposed to do, Buck? She’s made it clear she doesn’t want to talk to me. The last thing I want is to make things worse.”

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Steve, you’ve got to stop being so damn noble all the time. You love her, don’t you?”

Steve hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Of course, I do.”

“Then you need to tell her that. You need to let her know how you feel—how you’ve always felt. Let her decide where to go from here. But sitting around and assuming the worst? That’s not helping anyone.”

Steve leaned back on the couch, exhaling heavily. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Bucky smirked, clapping a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Start by showing up. Go to the ranch, talk to her. Even if she’s mad, even if she’s hurt, she deserves to hear the truth from you. All of it.”

Steve looked at his old friend, the weight of Bucky’s words sinking in. “You really think she’d want to hear from me?”

Bucky grinned. “Steve, Y/n’s not just anybody. If there’s one person who can take all the messy parts of you and still care, it’s her. But you’ve got to give her the chance to decide for herself.”

Steve nodded slowly, determination flickering in his eyes. “You’re right. It’s time I stop running from this.”

Bucky raised his beer. “Damn right. Now go get your girl.”

The evening sun cast a golden glow over the ranch as Steve parked his truck by the driveway. He hesitated for a moment, gripping the steering wheel tightly before exhaling a deep breath. It was now or never. He couldn’t let Y/n slip away again—not without fighting for her this time.

He found Y/n in the barn, busy brushing one of the horses. Her movements were precise, almost mechanical, and Steve could tell she was lost in her thoughts. The sound of his boots crunching on the hay-strewn floor made her stiffen.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” she asked without turning around, her voice sharp but tinged with exhaustion.

“I needed to see you,” Steve said, his tone calm but firm. “We need to talk, Y/n.”

She spun around, her eyes blazing. “Talk? Now you want to talk. After everything? After I had to hear the truth from my father instead of you?” Her voice cracked, and she shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes. “Do you have any idea what that felt like, Steve? To know you just... let me go because someone else told you to?”

Steve stepped closer, his own emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Y/n, I didn’t just let you go. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I was scared, and I was stupid. I didn’t know how to fight for us back then, and I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.”

She crossed her arms, her body trembling with anger and hurt. “Do you even understand what that did to me? I spent years trying to figure out why you left, why I wasn’t enough for you to stay. And now, to find out it wasn’t even your decision—” Her voice broke, and she turned away, wiping her tears furiously.

Steve moved closer, his voice soft but resolute. “Y/n, you were always enough. You were everything. I loved you then, and I love you now. I never stopped. The only reason I made it through losing you was Emma. She gave me a reason to keep going when I didn’t have one anymore.”

Y/n turned back to him, her face wet with tears. “You say you love me, but how am I supposed to trust that, Steve? How do I know you won’t walk away again the next time things get hard?”

Steve reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands. “Because I’ve learned, Y/n. I’ve learned what it means to fight for the people you love. And I’m standing here, right now, telling you that I’ll never let anyone—or anything—come between us again. Not your father, not my fears, not anything.”

Her resolve cracked, and she let out a shaky breath. “Steve...”

“I’m here, Y/n,” he whispered, his thumb brushing away her tears. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Without thinking, Y/n closed the gap between them, burying her face in his chest as the tears she’d been holding back poured out. Steve wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly as if to shield her from all the pain they’d both endured.

“I hate that you broke my heart,” she murmured against his chest.

“I know,” Steve said softly. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you let me.”

For a long moment, they simply held each other, the weight of their shared history pressing down on them but also knitting them back together.

When Y/n finally pulled back, she looked up at him with tear-streaked cheeks and a fragile smile. “I’m still mad at you.”

Steve chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “That’s fair.”

But when he leaned down, his forehead resting gently against hers, she didn’t pull away. Instead, she closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the moment, the warmth of his presence chasing away the cold walls she’d built around her heart.

For the first time in years, Y/n felt the ache in her chest begin to ease. And as Steve held her, she realized that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to each other.

~*~

The days following Y/n's emotional confrontation with her father were a whirlwind of emotions. She tried to focus on her work and the budding moments she was sharing with Steve while keeping her distance from Tony. Pepper, ever the mediator, reassured Tony to be patient, to give Y/n the time and space she needed to process everything.

One crisp evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Steve sat in the living room with Emma. She was sprawled on the floor with her colouring book, her blonde curls tumbling over her face as she concentrated on staying inside the lines. Steve watched her for a moment, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, leaning forward on the couch.

Emma looked up, her big blue eyes curious. “Yeah, Daddy?”

Steve hesitated for a second, running a hand through his hair. “Can I ask you something?”

She nodded eagerly, setting her crayon down. “What is it?”

“Well,” Steve began, leaning his elbows on his knees, “how do you feel about Y/n?”

Emma’s face lit up instantly. “I love Y/n! She’s so nice, and she makes the best cookies. And she says my hair is really pretty, just like hers used to be when she was my age!”

Steve chuckled. “Yeah, Y/n’s pretty great.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “What if... Y/n and I spent more time together? Like, a lot more?”

Emma tilted her head, considering his question. “Like, she’d come over all the time?”

“Maybe,” Steve said with a small smile. “Or maybe we’d all spend time together, like a family.”

Emma’s eyes widened with excitement. “Like a real family? Like, with you and me and Y/n? And Morgan too?”

“Well, not exactly Morgan,” Steve said, laughing softly. “But yeah, like a real family.”

Emma’s grin stretched ear to ear. “I’d like that a lot! Y/n makes you smile more, Daddy. And she gives really good hugs.”

Steve’s chest tightened at his daughter’s innocent words. He reached over and pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her tightly. “You know, Emma, you’re the most important thing in my life. I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

Emma snuggled into him, her small arms wrapping around his neck. “I am happy, Daddy. Especially if Y/n’s around.”

Steve kissed the top of her head, his heart full. “You’re a pretty amazing kid, you know that?”

Emma giggled. “I know.”

They sat like that for a while, the warmth of their bond filling the room. For the first time in a long while, Steve felt a sense of clarity. Whatever the future held, he knew that Emma’s happiness—and his own—might just lie in finding a way to bring Y/n into their lives for good.

~*~

As Christmas drew nearer, the air around the ranch seemed to hum with a renewed warmth. Y/n and Steve were slowly, almost instinctively, rekindling the romance that had once defined their youth. It started with small, fleeting moments—a shared laugh over a childhood memory, lingering glances across the room, and the way their hands would brush when passing something to each other.

Their friends noticed, of course. Wanda and Nat exchanged knowing smiles during group gatherings, while Bucky teased Steve about how obvious he was. “You’re like a lovesick puppy, Rogers,” Bucky joked one evening, earning a roll of the eyes from Steve.

Pepper, ever the supportive presence, quietly encouraged Y/n. “You deserve happiness, Y/n/n,” she said softly one night. “You’ve always carried so much weight on your shoulders. Maybe it’s time to let yourself feel joy again.”

Despite the happiness blooming around her, Y/n couldn’t shake the heavy feeling in her chest. Deep down, she was scared. The thought of starting something serious with Steve—something that could so easily be shattered by the distance and her demanding career in New York—terrified her. She didn’t want to risk hurting herself or, worse, hurting him and Emma.

One evening, as snow began to fall softly outside, Y/n found herself alone in the barn, brushing down one of the horses. The familiar rhythm of the task calmed her racing thoughts. She didn’t hear Steve come in until he cleared his throat softly.

“Hey,” he said, his voice gentle.

Y/n looked up, startled but quickly recovering. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet was filled with the soft sounds of the horses and the distant laughter of Emma and Morgan playing inside the house.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Steve finally said, stepping closer.

Y/n sighed, setting down the brush. “I haven’t been avoiding you. I’ve just... been thinking.”

“About what?” Steve asked, his gaze steady but kind.

“About us,” She admitted. “About what happens when I go back to New York. About how complicated this all is.”

Steve nodded, his expression serious. “It is complicated. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible.”

“Steve,” Y/n began, her voice faltering. “What if this doesn’t work? What if I hurt you? Or Emma?”

“You won’t,” Steve said firmly. “You won’t hurt us, y/n. I know you’re scared—I am too. But we’ve been given a second chance. Don’t you think that’s worth fighting for?”

Y/n looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of doubt, but all she found was sincerity. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to do this,” she whispered.

Steve took her hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’ve always been. And I’ll be here to remind you of that every step of the way.”

Her heart ached at his words, a mix of hope and fear swirling inside her. She wanted to believe him, to trust in the possibility of a future together. But the thought of leaving again, of potentially breaking both their hearts, loomed large in her mind.

For now, all she could do was lean into his embrace, letting his warmth and steady presence soothe her fears. As the snow fell outside, Y/n silently hoped that she could find the courage to hold on to the love they were rediscovering.

As the horse let out a low, familiar whinny behind them, both Steve and Y/n froze. The sound triggered a memory so vivid it felt like stepping back in time.

It had been a sweltering summer night years ago, the kind of night where the air felt electric and alive. They’d snuck out to the barn after a party, giggling like children as they dared each other to step into the quiet, shadowy space.

Steve remembered how Y/n had laughed, teasing him about being nervous, though her own hands trembled slightly. He’d pulled her close, their laughter fading as the tension between them shifted, the magnetic pull undeniable. One moment, they were talking; the next, they were kissing—passionate and all-consuming. They’d stumbled back into one of the horse stalls, too caught up in the heat of the moment to care about anything else.

For Y/n, the memory brought a rush of warmth and embarrassment all at once. She remembered the way Steve’s hands had roamed, hesitant at first but growing bolder as they explored. She’d been just as eager, tracing the contours of his jaw, his shoulders, their breaths mingling in the thick summer air. It had been thrilling, terrifying, and perfect all at once.

Now, standing in the same barn, the weight of that memory pressed down on them like a tangible force. Their eyes met, the past and present colliding in a way neither of them could ignore. Y/n’s heart raced as she saw the flicker of recognition in Steve’s gaze.

“Do you remember—” she began, her voice barely a whisper.

“The horse stall,” Steve finished, his voice rough with emotion. “Yeah, I remember.”

Y/n let out a nervous laugh, but it quickly died in her throat. The tension between them was palpable, and she could feel her resolve wavering. Her instincts took over before she could think better of it.

She stepped closer, closing the already small gap between them. “I can’t stop thinking about it,” she admitted softly, her eyes locked on his.

Steve’s breath hitched, and before he could respond, Y/n stood on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

The kiss was nothing like the one they’d shared as teenagers. This one was deeper, richer, laced with years of longing, heartbreak, and unspoken feelings. Steve’s hands found her waist, pulling her closer, while Y/n’s fingers slid into his hair, anchoring herself to him.

For a moment, time ceased to exist. The barn, the snow outside, the complications of their lives—all of it faded, leaving only the two of them and the undeniable connection they shared.

When they finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, Steve rested his forehead against hers, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Y/n.”

Her heart ached at his words, but for the first time in years, she felt a spark of hope. “I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice trembling.

“So am I,” Steve said, cupping her cheek gently. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Y/n nodded, her fears momentarily silenced by the warmth of his touch and the promise in his words. For now, that was enough.

~*~

The snow crunched beneath Y/n's boots as she made her way to Steve's house on Christmas Eve, her breath puffing in the crisp air. The cabin stood warm and inviting against the wintry backdrop, its windows glowing softly. Y/n knocked on the door, and it opened to reveal Steve, his face lighting up at the sight of her.

"You're here," he said, stepping aside to let her in.

"You asked for help," she replied with a teasing smile. "I couldn't leave you to ruin Christmas on your own."

Steve laughed, his voice deep and warm. "Well, I appreciate it. There’s still plenty to do."

The hours passed in a blur of shared chores and easy laughter. Y/n helped Steve arrange the decorations, hang stockings, and prepare the dining table. They worked side by side in the kitchen, bickering playfully over recipes. Y/n couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so comfortable, so at home.

As the sun began to set, painting the snowy landscape in hues of gold and pink, Y/n found herself in Steve's bedroom, tidying up while Steve finished setting up lights outside. She opened the closet to hang up a stray coat and froze.

There, tucked neatly among Steve’s shirts, was a familiar piece of fabric. She reached for it and pulled it out—a dark, elegant dress she hadn’t seen in years. The rip along the side was unmistakable. It was the dress she’d worn the night they’d surrendered to their passion in Steve’s bedroom all those years ago.

Her heart raced as memories flooded back: the heat of their kisses, the way Steve had looked at her as if she was the only thing that mattered in the world. She held the dress to her chest, her cheeks warming.

"Y/n?" Steve’s voice called from the hallway before he stepped into the room. His eyes immediately fell to the dress in her hands.

She turned to him, holding it up. "You kept this?"

Steve hesitated; his face tinged with vulnerability. "I couldn't let it go," he admitted quietly. "It was the only piece of you I had left, and... I needed something to hold on to."

Y/n’s throat tightened, her emotions warring within her. She took a step closer, her eyes locked on his. "You held on to this... all these years?"

Steve nodded, his gaze unwavering. "Because I never stopped loving you. Even when everything fell apart, I never stopped."

Y/n’s heart swelled, her defences crumbling. She closed the distance between them, reaching up to cup his face. "I’ve missed you, Steve. More than I can say."

He leaned into her touch, his hands settling on her waist as if she might slip away. "You don’t have to miss me anymore," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

Before she could think, her lips were on his, their kiss igniting a fire that had never truly gone out. Steve guided her to the bed, his hands reverent as they explored her, his kisses trailing across her skin. Y/n felt herself surrender completely, her fears and doubts forgotten in the warmth of his embrace.

The soft glow of Christmas lights casting warm patterns on the walls as Y/n lay beneath Steve. Their connection was electric, every touch and kiss charged with years of longing, love, and a passion that refused to fade.

As they reached the peak of their shared pleasure, Steve, breathless and overwhelmed, held her close, his strong arms cradling her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. When he looked down at her, he saw tears glistening in her eyes, streaking down her flushed cheeks.

Panic flickered across his face. “Y/n?” he asked softly, his voice shaky with concern. “Did I hurt you?”

She shook her head quickly, her lips trembling as she cupped his face in her hands. “No, Steve. No, you didn’t hurt me,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way. Since I’ve felt so loved, so whole. You make me feel incredible.”

Relief washed over Steve, and his features softened. He brushed away her tears with the pad of his thumb, pressing his forehead gently against hers. “You mean everything to me, Y/n,” he murmured, his breath warm against her lips. “I’ve missed this, missed you. I love you so much.”

Y/n’s tears turned into a soft, watery laugh, and she kissed him deeply, pouring every bit of her love and gratitude into the kiss. “I love you too, Steve,” she said when they pulled apart. “More than words can say.”

Steve pulled her into his arms, rolling onto his side so they lay tangled together, their bodies warm under the sheets. He held her close, running his fingers through her hair and pressing gentle kisses to her temple as they lay in the quiet aftermath of their reunion.

For the first time in years, Y/n felt truly at home, safe in the arms of the man who had always been her heart’s truest desire.

"I think this might be the best Christmas Eve I’ve ever had," she said softly, a smile tugging at her lips tracing patterns on Steve’s chest with her fingers.

Steve kissed her forehead, pulling her closer. "Mine too," he whispered.

The warmth of their bodies, their steady breathing, and the quiet intimacy filled the space with a sense of peace. Yet her mind churned with unresolved emotions.

"I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive him," she murmured, her voice tinged with sadness.

Steve’s hand gently ran through her hair, his touch soothing. "It’s okay to feel that way, sweetheart. He hurt you, and it’s going to take time. Don’t rush yourself."

Tears prickled at her eyes, but she blinked them away. "You know, sometimes I think about how different things could’ve been if... if he hadn’t interfered. If we hadn’t broken up." Her voice wavered, and she paused before continuing. "I would’ve been here, Steve. With you. And Emma... she could’ve been mine."

Steve’s chest rose and fell with a deep sigh, and he tilted her chin up so their eyes met. "Y/n, I think about that too. All the time. But we can’t change the past. All we can do is figure out how to move forward. Together."

Her eyes searched his, finding nothing but sincerity and love. "What happens when I go back to New York?" she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve’s thumb brushed her cheek, his expression thoughtful but determined. "We figure it out, one step at a time. Long distance won’t be easy, but if this—" he gestured between them, "—means as much to you as it does to me, then we’ll make it work. Somehow."

Y/n nodded, her emotions a tangled mess of hope, fear, and longing. She sat up slightly, her hair cascading over her shoulders, and looked down at Steve with a tender smile. "Then let’s make the most of the time I’m here."

Leaning forward, she brushed her lips against his, a kiss that started sweet but quickly deepened into something more. She hovered over him, her hands on either side of his face as she poured every unspoken emotion into the kiss.

Steve’s hands slid along her back, pulling her closer as their kiss grew more fervent. Their breaths mingled; their movements synchronized as they lost themselves in each other once again.

In the quiet sanctuary of that room, Y/n and Steve allowed themselves to be vulnerable, to heal through their connection. And as the evening stretched on, their passion burned brighter, a promise that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them together.

~*~

The cozy warmth of Steve's cabin was filled with laughter and the scent of mulled wine and freshly baked pies as Y/n and Steve welcomed their friends for the Christmas gathering. Nat, Wanda, Bucky, and Bruce gathered in the living room, the fire crackling softly in the background, casting a golden glow on everyone’s faces.

As soon as Y/n walked in with a tray of cookies, her cheeks faintly pink from the cold, Wanda’s keen eyes narrowed playfully. She nudged Nat and whispered, “Do you see that glow? Something’s different.”

Nat smirked, leaning closer. “Oh, I see it. And it’s not just her. Look at Rogers over there, practically floating.”

Y/n didn’t miss the way her friends exchanged knowing glances, but she played it cool, offering cookies and casually chatting as if her heart wasn’t still racing from earlier moments with Steve.

Meanwhile, Bucky and Steve were in the kitchen, ostensibly refilling drinks but mostly talking in low tones. Or rather, Bucky was talking.

“So” Bucky began, leaning against the counter with a mischievous grin. “You’re glowing, Steve. Care to explain?”

Steve didn’t look up from the cider he was pouring. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t play dumb with me,” Bucky teased, crossing his arms. “You and Y/n. Something happened, didn’t it?”

Steve tried to maintain a neutral expression, but the faint blush creeping up his neck betrayed him.

Bucky let out a bark of laughter. “I knew it! You dog! What did you do, propose to her under the mistletoe? Finally tell her you’ve been pining after her for years?”

Steve shot him a look, though there was no real annoyance behind it. “It’s not like that. We’re... we’re figuring things out.”

“Figuring things out, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”

Steve groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can you not make a big deal out of this? We’re taking things slow.”

Bucky leaned in, his grin widening. “Yeah, real slow. You’ve been mooning over her since high school, Steve. I’m just saying it’s about time. But hey, if you need any pointers—”

“Bucky,” Steve interrupted, his tone both exasperated and amused.

“Fine, fine,” Bucky said, raising his hands in mock surrender. “But I’m not the only one who’s noticed. The girls are definitely onto you two.”

Back in the living room, Nat and Wanda were interrogating Y/n with their own brand of teasing.

“So, Y/n,” Wanda began, feigning innocence. “What’s new? You look... radiant.”

Y/n tried to brush it off, focusing on arranging a tray of snacks. “It’s just the holiday spirit.”

“Holiday spirit, my ass,” Nat chimed in with a smirk. “Spill. Did something happen between you and Steve?”

Y/n’s cheeks flamed, and she opened her mouth to respond, but at that moment, Steve and Bucky returned with the drinks.

Bucky wasted no time. “Ladies, did you notice our boy Steve here? Doesn’t he look... lighter? Happier?”

Wanda and Nat burst into laughter as Steve groaned. Y/n covered her face with her hands, shaking her head, but the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement.

“Alright, alright,” Steve said, raising a hand. “Can we not make this into a thing?”

“Oh, but it is a thing,” Wanda said, grinning. “And we’re very happy for you both.”

Nat raised her glass. “To Y/n and Steve. Finally figuring it out.”

The evening buzzed with the sound of laughter and holiday cheer as the group of friends sat around Steve’s cozy living room, the soft glow of fairy lights reflecting off the windows. The Christmas gathering had been a heartwarming success so far, with Nat cracking jokes, Bucky bantering endlessly, and Wanda and Bruce sharing stories of their recent escapades.

As the evening wore on, a knock on the door drew everyone’s attention. Steve got up to answer it, and Y/n instinctively straightened up on the couch. When the door opened to reveal Tony, Pepper, Morgan, and Emma, Y/n felt a pang of nervousness tighten in her chest.

Tony stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Y/n. There was a brief, tense pause before Pepper gently nudged him. With an awkward cough, Tony approached his daughter.

“Hey, kid,” he said, his voice softer than usual.

Y/n hesitated, the tension between them still palpable, but she mustered a small smile and stepped forward. “Hi, Dad.”

She wrapped her arms around him in a tentative hug, her heart heavy with the weight of their unresolved issues. “Merry Christmas,” she said softly.

“Merry Christmas, Y/n,” Tony replied, his voice thick with emotion.

Pepper stepped in with a warm smile, hugging Y/n tightly. “It’s so good to see you, sweetheart.”

Morgan and Emma bounced in behind them, their energy a stark contrast to the adults’ careful exchanges. Emma’s eyes lit up when she saw Y/n.

“Y/n!” Emma squealed, running to her and throwing her arms around her waist. Y/n knelt to hug the little girl, her heart melting at the sight of Emma’s excitement.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Y/n said, brushing a hand through Emma’s blonde curls.

Emma looked up at her with hopeful eyes. “Are you staying the night? Please say yes!”

Before Y/n could respond, Steve’s deep voice cut in from behind her. “She’s staying.”

Y/n turned to look at him, her brow raising in surprise. Steve gave her a small, reassuring smile, and before she could protest, Emma let out a delighted cheer and clung to Y/n’s neck.

“We’re a family!” Emma exclaimed, her voice filled with pure joy.

Y/n felt her throat tighten as the weight of Emma’s innocent words hit her. She hugged Emma closer, her heart swelling with emotion.

Tony watched the scene unfold, his eyes softening as he saw the genuine connection between Y/n and Emma. Pepper placed a gentle hand on his arm, whispering, “Give her time. She’ll come around.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of warmth and laughter. Y/n stayed close to Emma, helping her with a plate of cookies and listening to her excited chatter about Christmas morning. Steve caught Y/n’s eye several times, their unspoken connection growing stronger with every shared glance.

As the night wound down, Y/n tucked Emma into bed, the little girl clinging to her hand until she fell asleep. When Y/n finally returned to the living room, she found Steve waiting for her by the fire.

“She’s happy when you’re around,” he said softly, his gaze steady.

Y/n looked down, her emotions swirling. “I’m happy when I’m around her too.”

Steve reached out, taking her hand in his. “We’ll figure it out, Y/n. Together.”

Y/n nodded, her heart cautiously hopeful as the warmth of the fire and the promise of new beginnings enveloped them both.

~*~

The winter holidays came to an end too soon, leaving behind a trail of cherished memories and bittersweet goodbyes. Y/n packed her bags reluctantly, dreading the moment she would leave Steve and Emma to return to her life in New York. The drive to the train station was quiet, filled with stolen glances and held hands. Steve kissed her goodbye with a promise, “We’ll make this work. I love you.”

Y/n smiled through the tears brimming in her eyes. “I love you too. We’ll figure it out.”

Back in New York, Y/n threw herself into work, her days packed with meetings, deadlines, and the bustling city life. But no matter how busy she got, there was always a moment she carved out for Steve and Emma.

Every evening, like clockwork, she would FaceTime them. The calls became a ritual, something the three of them cherished deeply. Emma would eagerly grab Steve’s phone, her small face lighting up the moment she saw Y/n’s face on the screen.

“Y/n!” Emma would squeal, recounting her day in vivid detail, from school adventures to her latest attempts at drawing horses—something she and Y/n had bonded over during the holidays.

Steve would join in after Emma was done chatting, his deep voice a soothing presence on the other end of the call. They would talk about their days, laugh at silly inside jokes, and share quiet moments where words weren’t needed.

For Emma, the separation was the hardest. She missed Y/n’s hugs, her stories, and the comfort she brought. Steve noticed the subtle sadness in his daughter’s eyes when she realized Y/n wasn’t there in person. He tried his best to keep her spirits high, from spontaneous ice cream nights to cozy father-daughter movie marathons, but Emma would always end the day asking, “When will Y/n visit again?”

On tougher days, when Emma’s longing became too much, Steve would sit with her, holding her close as she rested her head on his chest. “Y/n misses you too, Em,” he would tell her gently. “We’ll see her soon, I promise.”

Y/n, too, felt the pangs of distance. On quieter nights, she would look out at the city lights, missing the warmth of Steve’s arms and the sound of Emma’s laughter. But they made it work—sending each other silly photos, voice notes, and even surprise packages.

The first few months were an adjustment, but the love they shared kept them grounded. Steve and Y/n both knew the road wouldn’t always be easy, but they were committed to navigating it together.

By spring, Y/n had planned her next trip back to the ranch, a visit both Emma and Steve eagerly counted down to. Until then, the daily calls, heartfelt messages, and unwavering support from their friends kept their bond strong.

They weren’t just figuring out a long-distance relationship—they were building a foundation for a life together, one step at a time.

After the frosty months of estrangement, the air between Y/n and Tony had finally begun to thaw. It wasn’t perfect—there were still unsaid words and a lingering sense of betrayal—but it was progress. And at the heart of their tentative reconciliation was Pepper, the ever-patient mediator who skilfully navigated the emotional terrain between her husband and stepdaughter.

Pepper often nudged Tony subtly, reminding him that reconciliation wasn’t just about apologies but also about action. Tony took her words to heart, and one evening, during a quiet dinner at the ranch, he presented Y/n with a proposal.

“I’ve been thinking about the future of this ranch,” Tony started, his voice carefully measured. “We’ve been doing great locally, but there’s room to grow, especially with a more structured supply chain. I need someone with sharp ideas and a strong work ethic to lead that effort. Someone like you.”

Y/n blinked, caught off guard. “Are you... offering me a job, Dad?”

Tony gave a small nod, his expression sincere. “Yes. I know you’re busy in New York, but this could be a way for us to work together—build something meaningful as a family. I’m not trying to pressure you, but I want you to know the doors open. Always.”

The words struck a chord in Y/n. She didn’t respond right away, instead mulling over the offer in the quiet of her bedroom later that night. She stared at the twinkling lights of the ranch, memories of her childhood swirling with the idea of a future back home.

She thought of Emma—how the little girl’s eyes lit up every time they spoke, how natural it felt to step into a motherly role for her. She thought of Steve—his steady presence, his love, and the life they’d started building together. And she thought of Tony, who, despite his flaws and the pain he’d caused, was genuinely trying to make amends.

When Y/n finally confided in Pepper about the offer, Pepper gave her a knowing smile. “He means well, Y/n/n. He knows he can’t undo the past, but this is his way of trying to build something better moving forward. No one can replace the time you lost, but maybe this is a chance to create something new.”

Pepper’s words stayed with Y/n as she started to consider the possibilities seriously. Could she truly leave behind the life she’d built in New York? Would moving back mean losing herself, or could it be a step toward the life she wanted—a life with family, love, and a sense of belonging?

As the days passed, Y/n’s heart and mind wrestled with the decision. She hadn’t given Tony an answer yet, but for the first time, she began to see a future where her career, her family, and her love for Steve all could coexist.

And maybe, just maybe, this was the fresh start she needed.

~*~

Years later, as Y/n stood at the edge of the sprawling ranch, the golden hues of the setting sun painting the horizon, she couldn’t help but marvel at how much her life had changed. The land, once just her father’s domain, now carried her mark, her vision woven into every fence, barn, and field. Taking Tony up on his offer all those years ago had been a leap of faith, but as she gazed out over the thriving ranch, she knew it was one of the best decisions she’d ever made.

The years had been filled with hard work and triumphs. She poured her heart into the business, working side by side with her father to expand their reach and modernize their operations. Over time, the resentment she had once harboured toward Tony softened, replaced by mutual respect and understanding. Eventually, she forgave him completely, and their relationship became one of genuine closeness.

Her personal life blossomed alongside her professional success. Steve and her officially became a family, their love for each other stronger than ever. Emma, once a shy little girl, grew up under Y/n’s nurturing care, thriving in the warmth of their united household. She became more than a stepmother to Emma; she was her rock, her confidant, and her greatest supporter.

She smiled, remembering the laughter and joy they’d shared over the years. Bucky and Wanda’s wedding had been a highlight, a celebration filled with dancing, teasing, and promises of forever. She could still hear Emma’s giggles as she twirled around in her flower girl dress, and the pride in Steve’s voice as he toasted his best friend.

Then there was the day Natasha announced her pregnancy. Y/n laughed aloud at the memory of Nat’s dramatic reveal at a dinner gathering, followed by Bruce’s sheepish yet beaming smile. Their group of friends, once a band of carefree teenagers, was now a circle of parents, spouses, and mentors.

Emma and Morgan grew inseparable over the years, Morgan looking up to her big sister with stars in her eyes. Y/n had a front-row seat to their adventures and milestones, from their first horseback rides to late-night study sessions. Morgan’s admiration for Emma reminded Y/n of the bond she once longed for with a sibling, and it filled her heart to see the girls so close.

But the greatest joy of all came when Y/n became a mother again. Steve and her welcomed twins, a beautiful baby boy and baby girl who completed their family in ways Y/n hadn’t even realized were possible. The house was alive with the sounds of children’s laughter, the clatter of tiny feet, and the warmth of a love that had weathered every storm.

Olivia was the perfect blend of Steve and Y/n. She had her father’s piercing blue eyes and strong jawline but carried her mother’s warm, mischievous smile and expressive mannerisms. She was inquisitive and fearless, always trying to keep up with her siblings, but with a sweetness that melted hearts instantly.

Her twin brother, Ethan, was another story. He was all Y/n—sharp-witted, endlessly curious, and a bit headstrong. He had Y/n’s eyes and infectious laughter but a softer disposition that reminded everyone of Steve. Together, the twins were an unstoppable duo, their personalities complementing each other as they navigated toddlerhood with endless energy and curiosity.

Y/n smiled as she thought about Emma, now a teenager, stepping into her own and showing such grace as a big sister. Morgan often called Emma her role model, which always made Y/n’s heart swell. And then there were Ethan and Olivia, her mischievous three-year-old twins, who brought boundless energy and joy into every corner of their lives.

The sound of boots on the wooden porch pulled Y/n from her thoughts. She didn’t need to look back to know who it was.

“Admiring your kingdom again?” Steve’s voice came, low and teasing, as he wrapped his arms around her from behind.

She leaned back into his embrace with a contented sigh. “Just taking it all in. It’s crazy, isn’t it? How everything fell into place.”

Steve kissed the side of her head, his beard tickling her cheek. “Not crazy. You worked your butt off for this. You deserve every bit of it.”

Y/n turned in his arms, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Says the hot lumberjack who made it all possible.”

Steve chuckled, pulling her closer. “Hot lumberjack, huh? I seem to remember a certain stubborn Stark who wouldn’t take no for an answer when she decided to transform this place.”

Y/n laughed, swatting his chest lightly. “Stubborn Rogers now, thank you very much.”

“Stubborn and beautiful,” Steve said, leaning in for a kiss.

Y/n and Steve were mid-kiss, their shared moment of quiet intimacy filled with the warmth of their love and the sound of their kids playing inside, when the door suddenly burst open.

“Mama! Daddy!” Ethan’s voice rang out as he sprinted inside, his little feet thundering across the hardwood floor. Behind him came Emma, Morgan, and Olivia, who was trailing behind with a big grin and messy hair.

Emma was the first to notice the scene, her face breaking into a wide smile as she folded her arms. “Caught you!” she teased, her tone playful.

Morgan, ever the cheeky one, joined in, hands on her hips. “Big sister Y/n getting all romantic. This is too much!”

Y/n let out a groan, her cheeks flushing with colour as she pulled away from Steve. “Oh, come on. You two are impossible.”

Steve chuckled, scooping Olivia up into his arms. She giggled, wrapping her tiny arms around his neck and looking at Y/n with an impish glint in her eye. “Mama and Daddy were kissing!” Olivia exclaimed proudly, as if it were the most scandalous thing she’d ever seen.

“Yes, Ollie, and it’s perfectly normal,” Y/n replied, trying to keep a straight face while suppressing her own laughter.

Ethan, now tugging on Y/n’s hand, tilted his head curiously. “Can we kiss too?”

Y/n knelt down, scooping Ethan into her arms with a warm smile. “Of course, my love.” She planted a soft kiss on his forehead, making him giggle before he wriggled free to run.

Morgan leaned against the door frame, smirking at Y/n. “I knew coming out here was the right call. You two are too adorable to handle.”

Y/n playfully swatted Morgan’s arm before pulling her and Emma into a warm hug. “All right, enough teasing. You two are worse than the kids sometimes.”

Steve walked over, still holding Olivia, who was now playing with the collar of his shirt. “Okay, gang, who’s ready for dinner?”

A chorus of “Me!” and “I’m hungry!” filled the air as the kids ran off inside toward the dining area. Y/n gave Steve a look of exasperated affection, shaking her head.

“You’re good at wrangling them, Rogers,” she teased, smoothing her coat.

Steve leaned in close, a playful smirk on his face. “Takes one to know one, Mrs. Rogers.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. She looped her arm through his as they followed their rambunctious crew toward the dining room, their home filled with laughter, teasing, and the unbreakable bond of family.

~*~

As Y/n stepped inside the warm glow of their home, the aroma of roasted turkey and freshly baked pies greeted her. The sound of laughter and chatter from the dining room made her smile as she took in the sight of her family and friends gathered around. The house was alive with joy, a testament to the love they had built and shared over the years.

Steve stood by the doorway, a mischievous grin on his face as Olivia sat proudly on his shoulders. Her tiny hands gripped his hair, and her giggles echoed through the room. "Mama!" Olivia called out, her face lighting up as she spotted Y/n.

Steve wiggled his eyebrows playfully. "I think this one is claiming your spot as her favourite, babe."

Y/n laughed, walking over to gently poke Olivia’s belly, earning a fit of giggles from her daughter. "Oh, she knows who spoils her the most," She teased back.

Meanwhile, Ethan came barrelling toward Y/n, his cheeks puffed out with candies he had sneakily swiped from the dessert table. “Mama, look!” he mumbled through his stuffed mouth, holding up another piece of candy like a trophy.

“Ethan James Rogers,” Y/n said in mock sternness, crouching down to his level, “are you sneaking sweets before dinner again?”

Ethan nodded unapologetically, his big eyes twinkling with mischief. Steve shook his head, laughing. “That’s your son, alright.”

“Definitely yours,” Y/n shot back with a wink, scooping Ethan into her arms.

As they moved toward the dining room, Bucky’s voice boomed, “Look who finally decided to join us! Took you long enough, Rogers clan.”

“Hey, someone had to wrestle these two into decent clothes,” Steve retorted, tickling Olivia’s sides, making her squeal with delight.

Natasha rolled her eyes with a smirk, bouncing Bucky and Wanda’s one-year-old son on her hip. “And yet Y/n looks flawless, as always. Teach him your secrets, girl.”

Y/n waved her off with a laugh, setting Ethan down as he made a beeline for Morgan and Emma, who were attempting to keep a tower of gingerbread from collapsing on the dessert table.

Pepper and Tony were seated at the head of the table, watching the chaos with fond smiles. Tony leaned toward Pepper, whispering loud enough for Y/n to hear, “Told you this ranch would be the heart of everything.”

Pepper patted his hand. “You got one thing right, Tony,” she teased, sharing a knowing look with Y/n.

The evening unfolded in a symphony of laughter, clinking glasses, and friendly banter. Bucky and Wanda exchanged playful jabs about whose kids were better behaved, while Bruce tried—and failed—to mediate. Natasha and Steve had a competitive debate over who would win in a snowball fight, and Y/n found herself pulled into planning the inevitable showdown for the next day.

As the evening wound down and the fire crackled in the background, Y/n looked around the room. Her heart swelled as she watched her family and friends, the people who had been there through thick and thin, now all intertwined in this beautiful, chaotic life.

Steve caught her gaze and walked over, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Penny for your thoughts?” he asked softly.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, her heart full. “Just thinking about how lucky we are.”

Steve kissed her forehead, Olivia now asleep on his shoulder, her little hand clutching his sweater. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”

Y/n nodded, watching Ethan climb onto Bucky’s lap as Emma and Morgan whispered secrets across the table. “And it’s only going to get better.”

As they stood there together, surrounded by love and laughter, Y/n knew she had everything she’d ever dreamed of and more. The family she thought she’d lost, the love she thought was out of reach, and the life that had fallen into place perfectly—all of it was hers.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers angst #steve rogers au #steve rogers fic #Stella's Starry Winter Sky Event #Lumberjack Steve Rogers #Single dad Steve Rogers

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saiyanprincessswanie · 2 days ago

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🥰🥰🥰🥰

Yes (Steve)

Summary: You turn down every guy trying to hit on you.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warning: many egos get scratched, fluff

A/N: Because so many pitied poor Stevie, he’ll get an alternative version to No. Please consider the beginning of the story is the same as Bucky’s version.

“Hi, my name is Sam. I saw you from over there and wanted to invite you to a drink or more,” he says and flashes you a smile. He’s not bad to look at. If only he didn’t eye you like his latest meal.

“No—” you turn another man down. It’s a crux, going to a bar alone. Most of the guys won’t take no for an answer or show enough decency to leave a woman alone. You wanted to have one drink after work, only to get hit on by the next best guy stepping into the bar.

The man’s shoulders sag, and he goes back to his friends’ table. They pat his shoulder, telling him to not take it to heart. You almost feel bad for him. But only until the next guy from their table walks toward you.

Great. They turned this into a challenge. Watching the next guy walk toward you, you sigh deeply. This is going to be a long night.

“Hello, darling. Name’s Tony,” the next guy drawls. He’s older than the first guy. “Why is a pretty lady like you all alone at a bar?”

You roll your eyes. “Not to talk to a guy with a goatee,” you snap at the man to cut him off. “If you would leave me alone now. The answer is no.”

“Ah, you’re the angry kind,” he leans against the bar counter, eyes drinking you in. “Why don’t you join me and my friends at our table?”

“Sorry, I’m not into gangbangs.”

The guest next to you coughs loudly because he choked on his beer thanks to your reply.

You dismissively wave your hand, sending the guy back to the table with his friends. He shakes his head and joins the bunch of guys.

“Nice comeback,” the guest next to you chuckles before grabbing the beers he ordered and walking toward the table.

“Not again,” you sigh and down your drink in one go as the next guy walks toward you. You tap the glass, ordering another one, while a tall blonde guy steps closer. He seems a little shy as his blue eyes search yours.

“Sorry to disturb you, but—” he clears his throat and points at the table with his friends. “My friends and I wondered if you want to come over and join us.”

You look him up and down. He’s very handsome. Tall and well-built, and his eyes are nice too. He nervously wrings his hands as he tries to find the right words.

Leaning back on your bar stool, you decide not to immediately turn him down. If he’s not a creep, you’ll have a drink with him. It won’t hurt spending time with a shy guy, especially when he looks like the man in front of you.

“No, I don’t want to join you and your friends,” you say, but smile at the man. He looks like a cute puppy, and you cannot deny feeling a pull toward him.

“Uh—thanks for your time,” he stammers and wants to walk off. You’re fast to grab his wrist and stop him from joining his friends. He glances at your hand around his wrist, furrowing his brows.

“Wait,” you say, earning a confused look from him. “I said, I don’t want to join you and your friends, but,” you grin, “‘why don’t you stay here, and we have a drink?”

“Oh…OH!” His eyes light up, and he flashes you a stunning smile. Damn him, he looks like the sweet boy next door, but his body screams something else. “I’d like that, doll.”

You giggle at the sweet pet name. “So, do you want me to call you blue-eyes, or will you give me a name?” You bat your eyelashes, laying it on thick to keep him from leaving.

“Crap, yes.” His cheeks burn as he holds out his hand. “Steve, miss. My name is Steve.”

“Y/N,” you reply and take his offered hand. It’s warm and strong. “Nice to meet you, Steve. What do you drink?”

“Shouldn’t I ask you that?” He laughs as you shake your head. “Uh—beer is fine. I don’t feel the influence of alcohol, but I like the taste.”

“That’s very interesting, Steve,” you say, and pat the empty seat next to yours. “How about you tell me more about it and you? What is a sweet man like you doing at a place like this?”

Steve chuckles at the awful pick-up line. He relaxes as he realizes that you’re interested in him. “My friends dragged me here. I usually don’t go to bars.”

The guys from his table groan loudly because you look Steve deep in the eyes and smile.

“What just happened?” Tony gasps loudly. “This can’t be! Capsicle can’t succeed after all of us fail! How did he do this? How did he turn a no into a yes?”

Tags in reblog.

#saiyanprincessswanie #recommended reading #missy reads #missy reblogs #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fluff

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missmarveledsblog · 3 days ago

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I gotcha cap ( Steve Rogers x Reader )

Summary: it wasn't lost on anyone that Steve was a technophobe, who wanted to gain a grasp of the modern world, it just didn't help the little infatuation he had on his teacher.

Warnings : none , fluffy, mutual pinning , idiots in love. this is 2 or 3 parts

If anything America's golden boy and one of Earth's most prolific heroes needed improvements on was ...well the technology. Even though he'd be out of the ice long enough, the modern inventions just were something he didn't get the hang of. Of course, he'd asked his fellow Avengers, bucky was just as clueless as he was so was Thor to be fair. Natasha just outright refused her only argument for the rejection was simple

" For my sanity and your safety "

Tony was a no-go for his safety. The kid well he did try but ended up more confused at the slang the kids were using these days needing maybe a whole new lesson.

The best was of course last, Y/n. the newest addition although she'd been there two years now. She was up there with Tony probably even better when it came to anything electronic. She was able to hack the billionaire, only being caught because she wanted to. The company she was working at wasn't fully what she thought but hey it's why she took the job. She was an independent investigator that well noticed the fast rise of a company that seemed too perfect. So she got a job jumping through the hurdles, using her charm and charisma to integrate into the company and earn their trust then slowly she began to uncover the seedy secret they tried so hard to keep away. The wannabes were trying to be Hydra 2.0 only they didn't expect this newbie, the new office pet to uncover it all and drag them down with the click of her keyboard. The rest was history, now here she was living in the compound working in the lab with Tony and Bruce getting them intel and making missions that bit easier. The daughter of a former doomsday prepper and the skills she acquired of being alone well it was all that made her qualify and her enhancements helped to although that was a new title when she was growing up it was mutant. her father was one to hence why he was so paranoid , so ready to live in a bunker for safety of his family only to be the problem.

Y/n was sweet, she was friendly and patient. She was also funny, bold not afraid to speak her mind, strong worker. The beauty was everything and more that Steve Rogers could want so that infatuation had him almost nervous, yes nervous to ask her to help him with his problem. Thanks to Natasha's meddling he didn't have to ask because she took it upon herself to do so for him. A rare day off here he stood at the door of the main living room watching her setting up the various machines on the coffee table. The smile on her face was so bright and warm when she turned it made Shakespeare's words make sense. The way that smile was like a summer day. She was just simply an angel of perfection in his eyes, one that made his old self, the man before the serum who could barely look a dame in the eye or one that made his words jumble or stumble and stutter in a normal conversation. Professionally he was ok although he was still nervous but he was able to communicate clearly. Now here he was for a private lesson in modern technology with a woman who could render him speechless. This was gonna be hell, he was sure of it. Just as sure he was gonna make a fool of himself.

" hey steve ... cap?" she called making him stand straight .

" yes , yep hey " he smiled although forced through the flush of his cheek , in the start of what would be a barrage of self beratement .. internally of course .

" you ready " she smiled looking down at the table slight fixing the things laptop , phone and game console ? .

" yes sorry nats making you do this " he sat near her not too close but thanks to his enhanced senses he was encase in her scent .

" she not making me do it , dont worry cap i got you " she laughed . " ok i know you can write a report on the computer" she asked .

" y-yeah i can do the report but i because it like already there , tony made sure it the only thing so i just click , type and send " he nodded rubbing back of his neck .

" what about texting ? " she asked .

" no really well sort of " he shrugged .

" ok well we can go over the basics, if you don't understand anything don't be afraid to tell me so we will start with the phone from functions to standard apps " she smiled pulling the box out . " here this is for you " she handed it over .

" you got me a phone " .

"yeah, and I got you this ... open it " a mischievous smile on her face as she handed it over. Opened the paper and saw the blue red and white stars. It was like his shield but like a phone case. " I was gonna get you one online but I thought I'd make one a lot more sturdy and super soldier-friendly i got bucky to test it out in the testing phase".

Steve was speechless for maybe longer than he should of and for a new reason. Almost bashful looking down at it in his hand. So touched by the fact she took the time to craft and test this. The fact she took time to personalize it just for him.

" this is amazing thank you really " .

" no need to thank me cap i gotcha " she winked making his cheeks heat up.

The two sat while she slowly helped him set up the new phone, patiently step by step guiding him through what to do. In that time the space between the two, closer and closer while looking down at this device. The way she explained it to him and if or when he got confused she would show him again and again til he did. At one point the team stood at the door out of view of the two all sharing a knowing look. Peter took a few pictures maybe one to show them later in life. The way her attention was solely on the man although she could sense the extra eye and sure that the man at her side could feel them too.

" hey wanna continue this in my office" she smiled softly .

" yeah let's get this stuff " he stood quickly grabbing the different things scattered around them almost dropping them in his quest. Walking side by side and out of prying eyes they got to continue the lessons. He took a look around her office, her personal space. Little knick-knacks, pictures that all screamed her . Then when he looked at the computer slightly embarrassed in his own knowing how simple everyone had made it for him, how Tony made things easy from comms and devices nothing complicated more things only with a button or two. All the different little pictures or icons he recently learned scattered about. Now he knew he wasn't going to be some tech wizard but at least he wouldn't be clueless. More and more time he was less nervous he still was to a certain degree.

Weeks and weeks turned into months of lessons scattered between missions, meetings and public events. Although his knowledge of this was rusty, it was also still a vast improvement. Their communication improved and made her giggle when she would see at the end of each text -steve rogers. She tried to express that he didn't need to sign off on messages but she found it endearing in a way and completely, utterly adorable. She looked forward to the lesson, being in such a close space as Steven Grant Rogers was like a dream.

The blonde adonis was maybe the first and only crush she had had in such a long time. From his smile to his muscles that strained against the fabric. From his sweet and soft manner of Steve, to the strong protective manner and commanding presence that was Captain America it was virtually impossible not to fall for the man. Often thinking would he be Steve or cap between the sheets til she berated herself for thinking of a coworker, a teammate and a friend in such a way but on the same page she couldn't help the thought be in her mind.

next part

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arpicityandneed · 2 months ago

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You, Me, and the King

18+ f!reader. King bucky. Knight Steve. Queen reader. Dirty talk. polyship. light choking. creampie. Cuckolding. Voyeur!Steve.

If anyone noticed the visible bulge in the Steve's breeches they knew better than to say anything. The hefty sword he carried on his hip mixed with the deadly glare he gave everyone that passed by helped. They also knew better than to comment on the high pitched wails coming from the door Steve was guarding with his life. The new King and Queen were still on their honeymoon, locked away for days on end as they worked to fulfill their duty to the kingdom.

"J-James!"

He had you on your knees, your arms long since having given out as he thrusted into you. Every plap plap plap of his balls against your swollen clit echoed by the squelching of your pussy gobbling up his cock greedily. James pulled you up until his hand was around your throat, his hips never ceasing as he forced your back to arch. It made you squeal when he hit that special spot inside you. (Outside the door Steve had to clench his jaw and readjust his erection. He knew exactly what that sound meant, he heard it often enough now.)

You were usually quiet and shy, hiding at your King's side and whispering in his ear when you did have something to say. But every single time James got his cock in you, you couldn't help yourself. And your husband loved it.

"That's it my Queen. Let them, fuck, let him hear you sing for me." James let his scarred left arm wrap around you, his massive hand finding your clit easily as he fucked himself into your slick folds. You'd long since felt your own juices run down to your knees. You were sure James' balls were sticky as well.

"Please, James, I can't-" you sobbed as you came again, milking his thick shaft and making him curse.

"But you can, my love. Just a couple more. You have to if you're to give me an heir." He cooed at you, holding up your limp body as you tried to keep up with his endless stamina.

"Steve will lick you all better if you're sore later, promise." Your pussy tightened at the mention of your husband's head knight making James groan loud and filthy in your ear.

The man had grown up with your King, and you knew James trusted him more than he trusted anyone else. He'd even entrusted you to the blond. When your King was busy and you were aching, it was Steve who used his mouth and his fingers to make you feel all better. You'd even had him in your mouth when you felt bold. You wanted to practice, get better at pleasing your new husband. Steve always taught you so kindly knowing exactly what his King liked. You suspected they were more intimate than they let on and the thought made your pussy throb. But you'd never had Steves cock inside you. It was the one rule you had to follow. So when your husband mentions Steve you can't stop the embarrassed whimper that escapes you.

"I know, I know, you want his cock too." Your face burned at the truth of his words, and he laughed feeling your pussy get impossibly tight around him. "Just gotta let my cum all the way in your pretty tummy first. Gotta give me an hier."

"I'll be g-good, give you baby. Promise!" You knew Steve could hear every single word. Knew he'd be suckling on your clit later as he fucked James' cum back into you with his thick fingers when it leaked out. The very thought made you cum again, your fluttering walls dragging James along with you. He cursed, his grip tightening around your throat as his cock throbbed inside you.

"Take it my love, take every fucking drop-" He growled as he grabbed at the fat of your hip, using the leverage to fuck every spurt of cum deeper than the last.

When you both collapsed onto the bed, he cradled you to his chest kissing you slow and deep and drugging. You expected him to let you go to help you clean up a bit like he normally did. But he made no move to separate himself from you. You felt your cheeks heat once more when you realized why.

"James-" Your husband's icy blue eyes were locked onto where your bodies were joined, of the creamy mess he'd made of your pussy, but he seemed to know what you were asking if the smirk on his plump lips was anything to go by.

"Shh, just making sure it takes."

pt. 2

#bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #james buchanan barnes #steve ☆#bucky ☆#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve x reader #mina writes ☆#marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagines #f!reader

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witchywithwhiskey · 9 months ago

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the alpha next door

pairing: alpha!steve rogers x omega!female reader

summary: you and your neighbor are harboring feelings for each other, but both of you think the other is too sweet. then, things take a turn when your first heat since moving in hits, revealing the depth of your feelings for the alpha next door—and his for you.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), omegaverse AU tropes (heats, knots, purring, mating, scenting), piv sex, breeding kink/pregnancy kink (reader's on birth control tho), accidental voyeurism, masturbation (m + f), dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, little bit of mommy kink, size kink, pet names (baby), mutual pining, idiots in love, dual pov

word count: 8.9k

a/n: here's my entry for @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420's Cum Together Extravaganza!!! i used the A/B/O AU and breeding kink prompts—and this is my very first omegaverse fic!!! so uhhh please be kind because i don't know what i'm doing 😅 also loosely inspired by "too sweet" by hozier!! anyway, this ended up a lot longer than i thought it would be....whoops!! hope y'all enjoy!!!

When you first moved into the little pink cottage next door, Steve Rogers decided that you were too sweet for an ex-soldier alpha like him. An omega like you was filled with sunshine and gentleness, and you deserved an alpha who would treat you like the precious thing you were.

The kindest thing Steve could do for you was stay away. The thoughts you inspired in his alpha hindbrain had him hating the rough and greedy animal side of himself. He wanted to dig his fingers into your plush hips and bend you over, make you present your pretty little body in the way the alpha in him craved.

But he reminded himself you were too sweet. Too sweet for the obscene thoughts that plagued his mind. Too sweet to be defiled by a big alpha like him. Too sweet to be swollen and round and glowing because you were carrying his child…

Still, you were his neighbor and Steve couldn’t avoid you entirely, even though everything he saw only reaffirmed his belief that you were too good for him.

The little pink cottage beside his house had come with a front garden filled with pink roses and all manner of other pink flowers that Steve couldn’t even begin to name, but you tended to them like you’d planted them yourself. Steve would get home from work, park his truck in his driveway—which had a perfect view of your front garden. He’d watch you from behind his tinted windows as you took care of your flowers, looking like a garden fairy come to life.

When Steve eventually grew uncomfortable with how long he’d been watching you, he would get out of his truck and call a gruff hello to you as he made his way inside. Your melodic voice returning his greeting would follow him into his house, where he’d close his door and lean against it, panting like he’d just escaped a warzone while his cock strained against his jeans. But Steve wouldn’t stoop to jerking himself off to the thought of you—at least not while you were just outside.

On weekends, Steve would work in his backyard, mowing the grass and tending to the shrubs that ran along the line separating his property from yours. When the weather was nice and pleasantly warm, you would sit out on your small back porch, curled up in a wicker chair reading some book or another.

Steve would offer to mow your lawn, just for an excuse to stay outside longer, and be a little bit closer to you. You’d let him, and thank him for his efforts by giving him some ice cold lemonade, smiling up at him while he drank it. Steve wasn’t the least bit surprised the lemonade was more sweet than tart.

As the weeks and months passed since you’d moved in, Steve couldn’t help but feel his desire for you growing, becoming a living thing curling around his heart, making it beat for you. You were the sweetest and prettiest omega he’d ever met, and he’d be lucky to be your alpha, but he kept his distance, certain you could do better than him.

That is, until your first heat after moving in next door changed everything.

That was when Steve learned you were far more than the innocent little omega he’d determined you to be—you were a creature of sex and desire, made to take an alpha’s knot and be pumped full of come in the hopes that their seed would take root in your womb. When your heat hit fully, your keening wails echoed from your cottage, and they were a siren song that called directly to Steve’s alpha heart.

But he kept himself away. After all, there were polite ways of going about these things, and he’d never even asked you out on a date, so he certainly wasn’t going to assume you wanted his help to get you through your heat. Besides, you hadn’t asked for him to join you, anyway.

That didn’t stop Steve from keeping an eye on you, though.

He’d noticed the slight change in your scent a few days before your heat truly set in, his cock reacting even more to your perfect omega body than normal. Steve felt like he was walking around with a constant bulge in his pants after getting a single whiff of your scent, but he ignored the niggling feeling telling him he needed to be close to you and did his best to hide his reaction. He knew you had other things to worry about than the comfort of the alpha next door.

Even though something in him compelled him to go to you, Steve couldn’t bring himself to walk over to your cottage. It occurred to him that even if you didn’t want him to help you through your heat, he could offer to go to the store to get the food and provisions you’d need. But he didn’t. He was worried about what he’d do if he looked into your home and saw your nest and smelled your sweet perfume.

So Steve kept his distance, watching you from his truck and the windows of his house as you brought home a week’s worth of provisions—protein bars and sports drinks that would keep you nourished enough to make it through your heat. Steve wished he could carry the heavy-looking bags into your home, but his cock was pitching a tent in his sweatpants, and he didn’t want to make you uncomfortable with the way his alpha body reacted to your omega scent.

Finally, as your heat drew closer, you locked up your cottage, closing all the windows and drawing all the curtains. Steve couldn’t help but notice, though, that you left the skylight in your bedroom cracked open a tiny bit. Steve’s alpha hindbrain itched at the thought that you’d only left it open because you couldn’t close it yourself, and he had to hold himself back from going over to your cottage to offer to close it.

Steve knew omegas liked to keep their nests dark and warm and locked up tight. They wanted to keep all the scents created during a heat trapped in their nest, at least until their heat broke. So it was curious that you’d left the skylight open, even a little bit.

But when your heat hit in earnest that evening, your pitiful whimpers and desperate moans filtering through the open window and directly to Steve’s ears—through the window of his bedroom that he’d thrown open the moment he’d heard you—he forgot about what omegas typically wanted. Instead, all the blood in his body rushed to his cock, making him harder than he’d ever been in his life.

Steve stood at the window of his bedroom, which overlooked your cottage, his eyes glazing over as he listened to you pant and whine and cry out for an alpha that wasn’t coming. Because of course Steve had noticed that no alpha had arrived to help you through your heat. He assumed you were using any number of the toys that were sold precisely to help unmated omegas get through their heats without an alpha’s help.

But it meant you were alone, in your nest, riding out your heat on some silicone knot. That thought nearly made Steve storm from his house and barge into your cottage to demand you let him help you, but he reminded himself you were too sweet, too sweet, too sweet for him. So instead, he fisted his cock and listened to your raspy pleas fill the night sky.

“Need your knot, alpha, oh god, please,” you babbled, your voice beautifully melodic to Steve even when you were desperately begging for something he knew he shouldn’t give you. “Fill me up, daddy, I need it—need your knot, alpha—daddy, daddy, alpha, please, please, please!” Your moans grew louder and Steve could only imagine the thick silicone knot that was filling you up the way he should be filling you.

One of Steve’s hands gripped the frame of his window tightly, using the feel of the wood digging into his palm to keep himself grounded as he physically fought with his alpha instincts. He wanted to break into your cottage and rip your toys away from you so he could help you through your heat. Like he was meant to. It should be him inside you, sinking into your warm, welcoming cunt while you looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours.

Steve’s other hand gripped his cock, pumping his hard, stiff length with a fist so tight, it was nearly punishing. It helped a little, but his fist was a far cry from your perfect cunt, which would be gushing with wetness and so hot, Steve would feel like he was sinking into heaven and hell at the same time. And when he came, it wouldn’t be anywhere near as satisfying as emptying his balls right against your cervix, pumping your womb full of his seed while knot locked your bodies together so it would be almost certain he’d knock you up.

That is, if you weren’t on birth control. Which most unmated omegas were, Steve reminded himself.

Still, the alpha in him was a beast barely caged—he wanted to breed you.

Steve wanted to see you impaled on his cock and his knot, so bloated from how full you were with his come that he could see it in the way your belly bulged, giving a preview of what you’d look like growing with his child. He wanted to knock you up, he wanted to see you swollen and round with his pup.

He wanted to keep fucking you even as you carried his child, watching you bounce on his knot, your tits swollen with milk and your belly big and round while he tried to fill your womb with another before you’d even popped out the first. Steve wanted to keep you pregnant all the time, your pretty little omega body always ripe and swollen with his pups, taking his knot and his come every moment of the day so he could make sure you were always glowing with the radiance of motherhood.

It was that image of you—beautiful and knocked up, your eyes hazy with pleasure that came only from being impaled on his cock, and being locked on his knot—that made Steve come.

He grunted as the pleasure of his fist and his thoughts of you finally became too much, wrapping both his hands around his thick length, one squeezing his knot while the other pumped the rest of his shaft. His come erupted from the tip, streaming over the windowsill and dripping down to his bare feet on the wooden floor of his bedroom.

A growl tore from Steve’s lips while he came, a deep, dark part of his alpha hindbrain responding furiously to the fact that he was wasting his seed. He should be emptying his balls deep in your fertile cunt while your slick walls gripped his knot and milked every drop of his seed into your womb, where it belonged.

Steve’s release seemed to last for ages, longer than he’d ever experienced before, and if it wasn’t for the fact that his head finally started to clear when it abated, he would’ve been worried he’d gone into rut. But finally, Steve surfaced from the depths of his pleasure, and winced when he remembered the thoughts that had made him come.

Steve was appalled by the direction in which his imagination had gone, and felt guilty for imagining you in such a state as pregnant and bouncing on his cock—even as the reminder made his cock leak one last spurt of his release. Cursing and castigating himself, Steve moved away from the window to clean himself up and wipe down the spot where he’d been standing.

The entire time he was cleaning up after himself, Steve felt off-balance. He’d never felt such a pull toward an omega before you, and he’d never been so close to going into rut just from listening to an omega whimper and moan. If he didn’t know better, he would think you were his mate—the one omega in the whole world who was perfect for him.

But Steve pushed that thought aside and reminded himself you were too sweet for an alpha like him. You might’ve sounded desperate and needy while you suffered through your heat alone, but you deserved better than an alpha who could think of nothing else besides pumping you full of come and knocking you up with his child.

Steve felt disturbed all over again when he thought of the vivid, obscene things he’d imagined while he’d jerked himself off. He’d never been the type of alpha to get off on the idea of breeding, let alone pictured anyone swollen with his kid while they were impaled on his cock. Steve felt so far out of his depth, he swiped his clean hand down his face to try to regain the equilibrium that had been shattered by your pretty omega sounds.

Thankfully, you’d gone blessedly quiet at some point when Steve had been coming all over his windowsill. He tossed the rag he’d used to clean up his mess into the laundry and flopped down on his bed, knowing he wouldn’t be getting any rest that night. It was a good thing he’d called out of work on heat leave.

Even as Steve lay in his bed, the refrain that you were too sweet for him repeating in his mind, he couldn’t help hoping that you were getting some much-needed rest. He’d never been one to worry over much about whether someone was sleeping or eating, but he wondered if you’d had a protein bar and drank a sports drink before falling asleep. He knew you needed to keep up your strength if you’d make it through your heat.

His thoughts spinning around in his mind, Steve fell into a light, fitful sleep, his alpha hindbrain remaining alert and attuned to the sounds coming from your cottage. Little did he know, it wouldn’t be long before everything would change. Something would happen that would force Steve to finally give in to the connection between him and the omega next door.

When you woke on the second morning of your heat, it was to a burning need cutting through your core, urging you to roll onto your knees and sink down on the silicone knot toy that had slipped from your pussy while you slept. Unbidden, the face of the alpha next door, Steve Rogers, popped into your mind and you sobbed through another wave of aching desire, wishing desperately that he was with you to help you through your heat.

You hadn’t met the alpha until after you’d moved into the little pink cottage next door to his much larger home, and you were instantly smitten with the former soldier. He was big—so much bigger than you—with broad shoulders and bulging biceps that were barely hidden beneath the tight t-shirts he always seemed to wear. But it was Steve’s thighs that were always so distracting to you, so thick they made you want to ride them until your slick was drenching his jeans.

A pitiful moan fell from your lips as you reached between your thighs, grasping blindly for the toy you’d discarded in your sleep. With your face still shoved into a pillow and sleep still clinging to the edges of your consciousness, you slid down on the thick silicone cock, pretending it belonged to Steve.

The alpha next door was just so…sweet.

It hadn’t taken you long after moving into your cottage to learn your neighbor’s schedule, and you made sure to always be working in the garden in front of your home when he got back from work. You lived for the growly greetings he would call to you, and the faint blush that would graze his cheekbones, like he was shy around you, his harmless omega neighbor.

And on the weekends, when you knew Steve wasn’t working, you sat on your back porch reading—though you were more often ogling the fit alpha’s shoulders and arms as he worked in his backyard. The sun would shine on Steve’s blond hair and make him look like a golden god, with sparkling blue eyes that would occasionally flick in your direction, though you didn’t think he was really looking at you.

Of course, when he’d offer to mow your lawn, you’d let him. Then, to show the alpha your thanks, you’d make him some nice refreshing lemonade. If that meant you could watch him quench his thirst while you imagined his sweet mouth on your body, drinking your slick as eagerly as he drank your lemonade, then that was just a bonus to being a good neighbor. Right?

It had become abundantly clear to you that you harbored a crush on Steve, and it was nearly excruciating living next to him when he didn’t seem interested in making a move on his omega neighbor. After all, it had been months, and he’d been nothing but friendly and respectful and sweet.

It was obvious, at least to you, that Steve was too sweet for you—too sweet to be the rough, dominant alpha you craved. Too sweet to bend you over and impale you on his thick cock with one stroke. Too sweet to shove his knot into your cunt and make you come so hard you saw stars. Too sweet to knock you up over and over again, filling up that big house of his with pups that you’d created together.

You’d told yourself it was for the best that Steve kept his distance. If he couldn’t be what you needed, then you didn’t want your crush to develop into unrequited feelings. But your heart didn’t listen, so you kept putting yourself in situations where you’d get to see your neighbor—working in your front garden when he got home, sitting on your back porch while he was in his backyard.

Then, you began to feel your heat coming on, and your thoughts about the alpha next door only worsened. It wasn’t uncommon anymore for unmated omegas to ask alpha friends or acquaintances to help them through their heats, but the prospect of asking Steve for his help, getting to come all over his knot for days on end, and then trying to go back to the way things were sounded torturous.

Instead, you went about your heat preparations as you always did, gathering supplies from the grocery store and stocking up the minifridge in your bedroom with sports drinks while you piled your bedside table high with protein bars. You closed and locked all the doors and windows of your cottage, drawing the curtains tight to keep out the sun.

You knew you were a bit of an odd omega, and you didn’t like total darkness in your nest, which was why you had been the only one interested in the little cottage. It had a skylight in the bedroom that any other omega would want closed and covered during their heat. The window itself was covered in a film that dampened most of the direct sunlight and you enjoyed the natural light, even when you were deep in your heat, so it was perfect for you.

It occurred to you, as you were preparing your room, that if you cracked open the skylight, the sounds you made during your heat would filter out from your cottage. Your desperate cries for a knot might even be heard by the alpha next door…

Later, you’d blame your decision to leave the skylight open on the dangerous combination of your pre-heat brain and the exquisite agony of your crush on Steve. But by that time, the little decision you’d made in the urgency of your heat preparations would’ve irrevocably changed your life—for the better—and you wouldn’t give a thought to regretting what you’d done.

Still, on that second morning of your heat, when you were woken by the need to be knotted and flooded with come, you didn’t even remember that you’d decided to leave the skylight open. So you had no idea whether it was working or not, whether Steve could hear you—but he wasn’t far from your thoughts as you rode your silicone alpha toy, trying to slake the need that burned through your body.

Your heats were always a little hazy, like most omega’s, with desire and need pounding through your blood so insistently, you couldn’t form any coherent thoughts. Your mind could only focus on getting a cock inside you, then a knot and, if you’d had an alpha to help you, the gush of their come. Since you were so mindless, you uttered words that you’d forgotten the second they fell from your lips.

The first night of your heat, when you’d had a moment of clear-headedness enough to gulp down a sports drink and scarf a protein bar, you’d hoped you hadn’t cried out anything that would embarrass you—like Steve’s name. You’d had a vague memory of calling out for an alpha, which was normal for an unmated omega, and a daddy, which was normal for you, given your desires when you weren’t going through your heat. But you’d breathed a sigh of relief when you didn’t remember calling out for Steve specifically.

You couldn’t imagine what would happen if you cried out Steve’s name while in heat. But you were about to find out.

The silicone toy in your cunt wasn’t cutting it. It had been just fine that first night, though you hadn’t felt as satisfied as you normally did, and you hadn’t slept as long as you typically did in between waves of your heat. Something about this heat felt different. You weren’t just desperate for an alpha’s knot and come, you wanted more…

You wanted a pup. You wanted an alpha’s cock shoved deep in your cunt, unloading their come against your cervix, filling your womb with a seed that would take and knock you up. You wanted to be bred—and not just by any alpha. You wanted the alpha next door to breed you.

Steve. You wanted Steve. You needed Steve.

“Please,” you gasped, the word leaving your lips as you thought of your big, sweet alpha neighbor. His face came easily to your mind, those sparkling blue eyes and soft lips, that strong jaw and the way a blush turned his cheeks the most perfect shade of pink. “Please, alpha, need your knot, need your come,” you whined, speaking to the image of Steve in your mind.

You pushed yourself up onto your knees, grabbing one of the many pillows from your bed and shoving it between your thighs, forcing the silicone alpha cock deeper into your cunt. Still, it wasn’t enough, even as you tried to make due.

You rocked your hips, trying to replicate the feeling of fucking yourself on an alpha’s cock, but it paled in comparison. A desperate whine worked its way up your throat, filling your room and slipping from the skylight into the morning air.

“Please, daddy, wanna have your baby,” you cried, your hands going to your tits and tugging on your nipples so roughly, pleasure and pain swirled through your body, creating a tornado of sensation that only fed the need burning in your core. “Wan’ you to knock me up, alpha, wanna give you pups, wan’ you to suck on my milky tits while you fuck me, daddy.” You groped your breasts, pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself, the sensations making your cunt gush slick all over the toy inside you.

The pleasure was gathering in your core, making you more desperate to reach the pinnacle of your climax. Your hips worked, humping the pillow and cock between your thighs, shoving yourself down against the knot at the base of the toy, knowing it was what you needed to come, but your pussy was still too tight to take it.

“Oh god, I need it, alpha, I need it, I need it,” you babbled mindlessly, fucking yourself furiously on the toy and still wishing it was Steve’s cock.

You pictured him beneath you, his cheeks tinged pink, not with a blush, but with the flush of his desire for you, his blue eyes nearly black from his pupils blowing wide as he stared up at you. His soft mouth parted as he groaned, his thick cock buried in your tight cunt, twitching as you squeezed him.

It was with that image in your mind that the fateful words spilled from your lips. You cried out desperately, “Knock me up, daddy, gimme your pup, please—please, breed me, Steve!”

So close to the edge of your release, you barely heard the distant crashing sound that echoed between your little cottage and the house that belonged to the alpha next door. All you heard were your gasping breaths and mindless moans, the toy shoving into your cunt making low squelching noises that only managed to turn you on more.

It was only when a much closer smashing sound preceded the swirl of cool morning air infiltrating your home, and flooding into your nest, that you were able to drag your attention away from your own desperate frustration. Your omega instincts were going haywire, part of you telling you something was wrong, while another part unfurled and shifted, like a flower blooming toward the sun.

Blinking your eyes to clear away the haze of your heat, your mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of surprise at the sight of the alpha in your bedroom doorway.

Steve’s big body filled the doorway, his hands clutching the wooden frame while his chest heaved with heavy breaths. It looked like he was trying to hold himself back, his grip so tight on your doorframe that a distant part of your mind worried it might splinter beneath his palms. But you couldn’t think too closely about that, not when your neighbor was staring at you with a crazed look in his eyes, like he wanted to fill you with his knot as badly as you wanted to be filled.

Your too sweet alpha neighbor’s mouth—which was normally curved in a soft, friendly smile—was twisted with ferocious lust, and when he spoke, his voice was a rough growl like nothing you’d ever heard from Steve.

“Invite me into your bed,” he rumbled, the order clear in his voice even if he didn’t use his alpha command. “Ask me to help you through your heat, tell me you want me here,” he went on through clenched teeth, an edge of desperation in his tone that called your heart—and your cunt. “Tell me you want me, omega.” His fingers gripped the doorframe tighter, and you heard the wood creak beneath his strength.

Your pussy spasmed and your heart lurched when Steve called you by your designation, but it was when his scent hit you that you felt something inside your being shift and lock into place. Steve smelled like home—like safety and security and love. He smelled like a future of wrangling children together and making love together and sitting on a porch swing together and growing old together.

In that moment, you knew what your instincts had known from the moment you met Steve—he was your mate. He was the one alpha in all the world who was meant for you, just as you were the omega meant for him. And once you knew that, it was the easiest thing in the world to part your lips and beg him to join you in your nest, in your bed, and help you through your heat.

“Please, Steve—please, mate, please help me,” you begged, your voice breathy with need and excitement, tears of joy shining in your eyes.

Something shifted in Steve’s expression when you called him your mate. You watched as he took a deep breath, scenting you the way you had him. A riot of emotions swirled in those beautiful blue eyes of his—disbelief, acknowledgement, acceptance, satisfaction, pride. You saw the moment he realized what you’d only just discovered, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth.

“My omega, my mate,” Steve growled, finally letting go of the doorframe and launching himself at you.

Finally—finally—Steve was coming to you, closing the distance between you, and you’d never been happier in all your life. The alpha next door was your mate, and you hoped that meant he would be more than willing to knock you up and breed you like you needed.

Steve had woken from his fitful sleep to the sound of your sweet cries that morning, though they sounded much more desperate to his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or not, but you sounded less than satisfied with whatever toy you were using and Steve slid a hand down to his already hard cock, thinking you should’ve been riding him instead of some silicone dick.

He’d lazily stroked his cock, trying to restrain himself from coming all over his stomach, while listening to your increasingly desperate cries. Steve had fisted a hand in the sheets of his bed, hoping it would be enough to hold himself back from storming over to your cottage and taking your heat into his own hands.

Then, Steve heard you cry out his name and something in him snapped. Before he even knew what he was doing, he’d thrown on some boxer briefs and stormed out of his bedroom, leaping down the stairs and throwing open the front door of his house so ferociously, he’d ripped it off some of the hinges.

Not even caring that he was leaving his door open, Steve charged over to your cottage, taking a little bit more care with your front door when he broke the lock and pushed it open, flinging it closed behind him. He knew it was likely stuck closed thanks to the broken lock, but Steve only cared that it would prevent anyone else from getting into your home. He’d deal with getting out later. Much later.

Finally, Steve got to the doorway of your bedroom, your nest, and he’d stumbled to a stop at the sight that lay before him.

You were perched in the center of your big bed, a pillow wedged between your thighs, the knot of a toy barely visible while you humped futilely on the fake cock. Your delicate fingers groped your tits, squeezing your soft flesh and pinching your nipples like you were milking yourself—that thought making even more blood rush to Steve’s cock. Desperate whimpers and whines fell from your lips, more pleas to be knocked up and filled with pups, and they were nearly his undoing.

At the last second, Steve gripped the doorframe, holding himself back from pouncing on you, as he tried to remember why he shouldn’t be there. You were an unmated omega, in heat, and he hadn’t gotten permission to be in your nest, let alone help you through your heat. And you were too sweet for him…

God, you looked sweet, though. Sweet enough that Steve’s mouth watered with the thought of how slick you were, how good you would taste on his tongue. Even from the doorway, he could see the way your wetness had soaked the pillow between your thighs. He wanted to taste you, to scent you, he wanted you.

Steve was seconds away from launching himself at you when your gaze finally landed on him. It was the delighted surprise in your eyes that urged him to ground out a desperate plea for consent to enter your room and help you through your heat. Blessedly, you seemed coherent enough to answer—but you didn’t only answer and beg for his help, you called him your mate.

That word struck a chord in Steve’s chest, his heart pounding even harder at the impossible prospect that you were his mate—that you were meant to be his. But he took a deep breath, taking in the scent of you and opening himself up to the possibility that you were his.

You even smelled sweet, like the pink roses in your front garden—or, rather, the peace Steve felt when he came home to find you tending to your flowers. You smelled like the warmth of a gentle fire and the giddiness of butterfly kisses. You smelled like life, like the time unfurling before the two of you, years and decades spent with each other, making each other happy.

It was as if Steve truly came alive for the first time when he scented you, and the last tether of the self-restraint holding him back from you snapped.

“My omega, my mate,” he rumbled in a low purr, a voice he’d never even heard himself use before. But he didn’t have time to think about that too closely—he only knew he needed to get to you.

As quickly as he could, Steve surged into your room, tearing off his boxer briefs—the only clothing he’d had the presence of mind to put on, and he was thankful for it, since it saved him the grief of a public indecency charge—in the few steps it took to get to your bed.

By the time Steve tackled you into the tangle of blankets and pillows, he was naked as the day he was born, his cock throbbing with need and brushing against swaths of your soft, bare skin, leaving his precum behind. The alpha cradled your body in his strong arms as he rolled you beneath him, his narrow hips slotting perfectly between your plush thighs, his hard length resting against your mound.

But there was something in his way, something that shouldn’t be inside you and Steve couldn’t help but growl, “Get that fucking toy out of my cunt, ‘mega.” He softened the fury in his voice with light, fleeting kisses to your cheeks and temple and forehead, greedy to taste the sweetness of your skin.

“Yes, alpha,” you gasped, fumbling between your bodies to wrench the silicone dick from your tight hole.

The sweet submission in your voice was too much for Steve—he had to taste it. Slanting his lips to yours, Steve kissed you for the first time, groaning into your mouth at the wondrous feeling of your mouth beneath his. You tasted better than you smelled, like radiant sunshine bursting on his tongue and casting a golden glow over his entire body.

Deepening the kiss, Steve plundered your mouth, stroking his tongue against yours and nipping at your lips until you were gasping and panting beneath him. Your entire body trembled with unslaked need, your fingers clinging to his bulging biceps as you cried out for him, all of which stroked Steve’s alpha ego so much, his cock twitched and leaked against your belly.

“Please, Steve—daddy—alpha—I need you inside me,” you wailed in a broken voice and Steve’s instincts took over.

He shifted his hips back, the tip of his cock finding your slick hole and he pushed forward, sinking his hard length into your cunt with one thrust. Steve’s entire world realigned, his heart stuttering in his chest at the feeling of your tight heat consuming him, overwhelming him. An animalistic groan left his lips, and he buried the sound in your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried not to come immediately.

With Steve’s cock finally buried inside you, he felt your body relax beneath him, your moan of pleasure dissolving into a sigh of relief. Steve’s hindbrain felt a deep satisfaction at the way you melted in his arms, your submission to him apparent in the loosening of your muscles. Finding your lips again, Steve kissed you sweetly, cherishing the moment of calm before your heat urged the two of you to move.

“Thank you, alpha,” you whispered, your voice soft and blissful and the most content Steve had heard it since your heat began in earnest the day before. “The toys weren’t working.” You pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek on your way to burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing so deeply he could hear your inhale, making his cock twitch in the depths of your pussy.

Then, your words pierced through the haze of pleasure in Steve’s mind and he purred, smiling into your neck when you relaxed further beneath him, responding to him.

“You needed your mate, didn’t you, baby?” Steve cooed, lavishing your neck with kisses until you were whining and squirming beneath him. “Needed your daddy to pound your needy little cunt like only your alpha could, huh?” He started rolling his hips in tight circles, grinding into your cunt, his knot rubbing your clit in a way that had you clenching deliciously around him. “Needed me to pump your sweet little womb full of come, huh, needed me to give you a pup?”

As soon as the heated words fell from Steve’s lips, he wished he could take them back. He’d heard you beg him to breed you, but that was when you were riding a silicone alpha dick, not when you were seconds away from taking Steve’s knot.

Mentally, Steve chastised himself for letting his mouth run away from him so soon. He’d barely gotten his cock in you and he was already talking about knocking you up. He didn’t want you to think he was that kind of alpha, one that only wanted an omega to pump out babies for him—even though the thought did make Steve rock hard.

“Sorry, ‘mega,” Steve mumbled, shifting his arms beneath your body so he could cradle your head in one hand, holding you still while he rocked his hips into yours, kissing your cheek and jaw and neck and anywhere he could reach.

“Sorry for what?” you asked on a gasp, hooking your legs around Steve’s sides and clinging to him so you could grind on his thick cock.

Thankfully, you didn’t seem turned off or scared by Steve’s breeding talk. If anything, the way you arched your spine and shoved your cunt down on his dick made him think you liked it. But surely that couldn’t be true.

“Didn’t mean to mention pups so soon,” Steve said gruffly, hiding his face in your neck so you wouldn’t see the blush that he knew was turning his cheeks pink.

“Oh god,” you moaned, your cunt squeezing Steve’s cock as your body writhed beneath his. “Wanna give you so many pups, alpha,” you cried, humping up from beneath Steve’s big body, riding his cock harder than you’d been riding your toy when he’d walked in.

Steve went cross-eyed at the assault on his senses. Between the perfect heat of your slick pussy gripping his cock, teasing his knot every time you rocked against him, and the sound of your sweet voice confessing you wanted him to knock you up, Steve’s body shuddered with the effort it took not slam his knot home and flood your womb with his seed to give you exactly what you wanted.

“You like that idea, huh?” Steve rumbled, hungry passion and desire coursing through his body and urging him to move faster, to fuck you harder. He pulled out of your fluttering pussy and slammed back inside, relishing the desperate cry that left your lips and the way your fingers dug into the muscles of his arms. “You like it when your alpha tells you how much he wants to breed you?”

Despite his best efforts, Steve could hear the thread of insecurity in his question, and he wasn’t surprised when you cupped his face and moved his head up so you could look into his eyes. What he didn’t expect was the sheer amount of pleasure and desire in your hazy gaze, or the mixture of sweetness and depravity in the little smirk you gave him.

“I do, daddy,” you said, your voice breathy but no less firm in your resolve. “I want to hear everything you’ve thought about doing to your little omega—want you to breed me, alpha.”

Everything else in the world melted away as Steve focused on you—his omega, his mate—and the fact that he was going to try his damndest to give you what you wanted. After all, that was his duty as your alpha. You were his to take care of, to provide for, to protect, to cherish—to fuck and to knot.

You were his to love—you were his to breed. And Steve planned on loving you and breeding you plenty.

You’d never felt anything so good as Steve sinking his thick alpha cock into your weeping cunt, and you nearly sobbed in relief as the edge of aching, burning need finally abated. This was what you needed—not a toy or any alpha’s cock, but your mate’s. Your body and omega instincts had known something was wrong, and it had taken a slip of your tongue to fix it.

Even if it had been an accident to cry out Steve’s name, you couldn’t feel embarrassed about it, not when you finally felt something like satisfaction. The need of your heat still burned bright beneath your skin, but for a moment, you could revel in the feeling of being so intimately connected to your mate, your Steve—the alpha next door.

The words of thanks had slipped past your lips before you could stop them, and you loved the teasing way he responded. But then you felt a shift in Steve. He’d seemed to feel guilty for mentioning pups, but even his apology turned you on, making your arousal burn hotter. Your body had been unable to still when you needed him so badly—needed to give him pups, needed to grow round with his child and know that he had claimed you in the most primal way possible.

Your brain had short-circuited when Steve had said he wanted to breed you, but you’d still heard the anxiousness in his tone and you’d guided his head up so you could look at him. The uncertainty and guilt in Steve’s beautiful blue eyes nearly broke your heart. He was too sweet for words, wanting to make sure you were comfortable with even the words he said in the heat of the moment.

Between one breath and the next, you fell in love with Steve Rogers. He wasn’t simply the alpha next door, he was your mate, and he was yours. A fierce possessiveness filled your chest as you smirked up at your alpha, determining to show him exactly how much you wanted everything he’d said.

“Want you to breed me, alpha,” you begged on a moan, your hips rising up off the bed to meet the brutal thrusts of your mate. “Fill me up with your pups, daddy, please, I need it!” You held Steve’s gaze, letting him see the pleasure on your face, hear the genuineness of your words.

You saw the moment Steve’s insecurity and guilt melted into desire and determination. His blue eyes darkened and his face twisted into a mask of sinful resolve. He looked like a fallen god, with his golden hair and tanned skin, framed perfectly in the little bit of morning light filtering in through the skylight above your bed. Your pussy clenched around his cock, fluttering as he thrust inside you, teasing your hole with his knot.

“Don’t worry, ‘mega,” Steve rumbled, ducking down and capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that left you gasping for breath. He pressed his forehead to yours, staring deep into your eyes. “We’re making a baby today.”

“Yes, alpha,” you cried, spreading your legs wider in an effort to let Steve fuck you deeper. He grinned, shifting his hands to your thighs and pushing them up against your chest, folding you in half and pounding you into the bed.

“Gonna fill up your perfect cunt with all the seed in my balls, and if it doesn’t take today, ‘m gonna fill you up until you’re overflowing with my come—until your belly’s bulging with it,” Steve growled, rutting into you with a ferociousness you never would’ve expected from your sweet alpha neighbor. But Steve’s sweetness was never far from the surface, and he proved it by lowering his voice to a deep rumble that you felt in your belly, asking, “Mm, ’s that what you want, baby, want daddy to give you a pup?”

You were pinned beneath Steve, his cock fucking you so hard, your room was filing with the wet squelching sounds of your soaking cunt and the sharp rhythm of your alpha’s thighs slapping against your own. But still, it was his words that seemed to have the most effect on you, turning you into a writhing, needy creature who’d only be satisfied when Steve emptied his balls deep in your cunt.

“Yes, alpha,” you cried, your fingers clinging to Steve’s shoulders, digging into his warm, golden skin while he fucked you into oblivion. “Want you to knock me up, wanna give you a pup, wanna grow big and round with your child and feed you both from my milky tits,” you babbled, throwing your head back and screaming when Steve’s cock hit against your cervix, pleasure and pain swirling like an inferno in your body. “Please, daddy, god, I need it, I need it—knot me, breed, me, Steve, please!”

“Baby,” Steve groaned, capturing your lips in another kiss while he rutted into you faster and harder, his knot pressing against your tight hole with every thrust and teasing you with the stretch of it. “You’re gonna get a pup, alright,” he growled when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to yours. “You’re gonna pop out a kid for me and then I’m gonna fill you right back up.” Steve moaned, his body shuddering and you knew he was close. “Wanna watch you bounce on my cock with your belly ripe and swollen with my pups, your tits heavy with milk—the prettiest mommy and mate an alpha could ask for.”

“Steve,” you sobbed, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, kissing him and thrusting your hips up to meet his. “Please, make me a mommy, alpha—wanna be a mommy, please, daddy, daddy, please!” Then your lips were too preoccupied with Steve’s, kissing him messily in between desperate moans while he fucked you hard and fast.

Finally, Steve pulled back and thrust forward with so much power, his knot pushed inside your tight cunt and you screamed in pleasure, the feeling of his thick bulge stretching your tight hole sending you over the edge into the most earth-shattering release you’d felt in your life. It was a transcendental experience, coming on your mate’s cock, your alpha surrounding you and filling you up in every way possible.

As your body squeezed Steve’s cock, he groaned loudly in your ear, burying his face in your neck while his hips stuttered against yours, trying to fuck you with his knot but unable to move because your bodies were locked so tightly together. Then, with a moan of, “my mate,” you felt the moment Steve began to come. His cock twitched deep inside your cunt, a warmth filling you as he shot rope after rope of come against your cervix, filling your womb.

For a long time, the two of you stayed locked together, riding out your releases in each other’s embrace. Giggles and moans filled the room, each of you kissing the other wherever you could reach while you basked in your pleasure together. You breathed in the scent of Steve, your lips dragging up and down the column of his throat while he kissed your neck and shoulder and just beneath your ear, making you shiver.

Eventually, when the squeezing of your cunt was reduced to a flutter and your body had milked every last drop of seed from Steve’s cock, the two of you settled. Your heat had abated for the moment. Though need still burned low in the core of your body, reminding you it wasn’t over just yet.

But you had a bit of a respite, and you took the time to revel in you newfound mate. Turning your head, you pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek, which was flushed pink with pleasure.

You felt Steve’s smile against your skin and then he was rising up so you could see the full blush that tinged your alpha’s cheeks. He looked so sweet and ruined, his blond hair a mess, his blue eyes bright with satisfaction, a deeply smug smile on his plump lips.

“Feeling better, ‘mega?” he asked, though there was so much male satisfaction in his tone, you were certain he already knew the answer.

Still, you liked seeing this side of Steve. Typically you didn’t like cocky alphas, but Steve looked so hot when he was confident, your pussy fluttered around his knot at the sight of his smirk.

“I am, daddy,” you said softly, smiling up at your alpha, enjoying the way his smirk deepened as you confirmed what he knew. You couldn’t help but stroke his ego a little more. “Now that you’re here to take care of me.”

Steve’s eyes softened and he pressed a heated kiss to your lips. “Good,” he said when he pulled away. Then his arms were wrapping around you and he rolled onto his back, dragging you with him until you were splayed across his broad chest, your bodies still locked together by his knot.

It would deflate soon enough, but you reveled in the feeling while it lasted, snuggling into Steve’s arms. Sleep called to you, but Steve was still moving and you when you opened your eyes, you found him reaching for your stash of provisions on your bedside table.

“Gotta eat and hydrate, baby,” Steve murmured as he unwrapped a protein bar and began feeding it to you. Even though you were exhausted, you knew he was right and you let him feed you, only sitting up when it was time to gulp down some of the sports drink he offered you. “Good girl, ‘mega, doing so well for your alpha,” Steve said, praising you while you ate and drank.

When you were done, Steve tossed the empty wrappers and bottles back onto your bedside table and relaxed into the many pillows on your bed. You settled down on his chest, your body sated in every way possible, muscles going loose when your alpha began to purr.

“Thank you, alpha,” you mumbled, the urge to sleep more insistent since you were fed. Steve’s hands smoothed down your back, tracing your spine lightly with his fingertips in a way that made you melt even further into him.

“Don’t need to thank me,” he grumbled, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple. “You’re my mate, ‘m gonna do everything I can to take care of you—and our kids.” He added the last bit like it was an afterthought, but you knew Steve meant it, and your heart warmed at his protectiveness.

You smiled into Steve’s warm skin, nuzzling into his neck beneath his jaw, breathing in the scent of him—the scent of home—but his words made you remember something you should tell him.

“Steve, ‘m on birth control,” you murmured sleepily, pressing a lazy kiss to the thick column of his neck. “Thought you should know.” You snorted a little, laughing at yourself for the silliness of your last statement, even though it was true.

The rumble of Steve’s purr changed as he chuckled, his strong arms tightening around your waist for a moment before he grabbed a blanket and pulled it up over your cooling bodies. “Figured, ‘mega,” he rumbled, his voice so warm, you could hear his smile. “Doesn’t mean ‘m gonna stop picturing you round with my pup, even if it’s a while before that happens.”

“Mm,” you hummed in acknowledgment, then pouted as you processed his words. “As long as it’s not a long while,” you muttered, hardly listening to what you were saying because you were so close to sleep.

Steve chuckled again, his hands squeezing you lightly. “It’ll be as long or as short as you want, baby,” he assured you in a gruff voice that was thick with just as much tiredness as yours. “I’d give you a pup today if I could.”

You smiled, your heart filling with emotion, and pressed your lips to your alpha’s neck. You might’ve been exhausted, but it didn’t stop you from murmuring the words your heart urged you to say, “I love you, Steve.”

Steve’s purr deepened, and he held you close, no hesitation in his voice when he said, “I love you, too.” Your alpha brushed a kiss to your cheek and smacked your ass very lightly. “Now rest, omega, we still have to get through the rest of your heat.”

You fell asleep with a smile on your face, feeling safe and protected and satisfied in the arms of your mate, your bodies still locked together by Steve’s knot. You never would’ve expected anything to come of your crush on your neighbor—and you never would’ve expected he’d be a perfect fit for your desires, let alone your mate.

But, you knew the two of you were going to live a happy life together—and you couldn’t wait to spend every moment of it with the alpha next door.

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brunchable · 4 months ago

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Pregnancy Pillow vs Captain America

Pairings: Dad-to-be Steve Rogers x Pregnant Reader. Themes/Summary:Light-hearted. Steve is feeling lonely on his side of the bed, and it's the pregnancy pillow's fault. A/N: I haven't been giving Steve some love lately. . . so here a cute little oneshot of how he will react when y/n brings out the pregnancy pillow. I don't own any of the images ya'll credits to their owners.

tags: @mrsevans90 @haruvalentine4321

Steve comes out of the ensuite after his shower, his white t-shirt clinging to his body and hair damp. He throws you an easy smile, the kind that makes his blue eyes crinkle at the corners, as he heads towards the bedroom. But the moment he steps inside, he halts mid-stride, staring at the bed like it’s personally offended him.

There it is again: the pregnancy pillow. An immovable, unforgiving barricade that now divides your once-cozy bed like a dam, stretching from one end to the other. Steve tilts his head, squinting at it as if that might reduce its size.

He throws his hands on his hips and sighs dramatically.

“You know, I fought Hydra,” he says, voice dripping with exasperation. “I’ve been through hell and back. But this—” he gestures to the pillow, “—is the one enemy I can’t seem to defeat.”

You burst into laughter from your side of the bed, propped up by a series of other pillows meant to cushion every conceivable ache or discomfort. “Steve, it’s a pillow.”

“It’s a monstrosity,” he argues. “It’s like the Great Wall of China, but made out of—” he pokes at it cautiously, like it might snap back at him, “—fluffy foam and… whatever this is.” He groans, flopping down onto his side of the bed with a huff.

“Pregnancy pillows are supposed to be supportive,” you say in an exaggeratedly sweet tone, rolling your eyes.

“Supportive?” He scoffs, attempting to squeeze his hand through the tiny gap between the pillow and your hip. “It’s so supportive I need to make an appointment to get within three feet of my wife.”

You press your lips together, trying not to laugh as you watch him contort, his long arms flailing. “I know it’s not ideal, but I need it, Steve.”

“Why does it have to be so big?” He sounds like a sullen child, tugging at the end of the pillow like he’s considering wrestling it out of the bed entirely. “Can’t they make a smaller one? One that doesn’t make me feel like I’m living on the opposite side of the planet?”

You shake your head. “Trust me, if there were a way to make it smaller and still work, I’d be using it.”

Steve finally manages to get a bit of his arm over the pillow’s edge, his fingers barely brushing your shoulder. He lets out a soft noise of triumph, and then—he leans in close, his forehead almost bumping the pillow’s fabric.

“Hey,” he murmurs, as if the pillow itself is an eavesdropper. “Wanna come over to my side?”

Your laugh breaks out fully then. “Are you trying to seduce me over a pillow, Rogers?”

“Absolutely,” he deadpans, his face all faux-seriousness. He wiggles his eyebrows and purses his lips. “I’ve got ‘plenty’ of space over here, you know. Might be a little lonely, though. Could use some company.”

You lean back into the pillow, giggling at the sight of this fully-grown super soldier pouting at a piece of fabric. “I’m not crawling over this thing. You’ll just have to wait until the baby’s born.”

Steve blinks, his face crumpling in over-the-top shock. “Wait. Until the baby is born? That’s months away!”

“Yup.” You nod solemnly, enjoying the way his mouth drops open.

“Months?” He repeats, shaking his head as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “I’m supposed to be a dad in a few months and I can’t even get a hug?”

You finally give in, shifting to face him.

“C’mere, you big baby.” With some maneuvering, you manage to reach over the pillow, clasping his face between your hands. He grins triumphantly and leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as if it’s the greatest victory he’s ever won.

Steve kisses your palm, peeking an eye open at the pillow. “We’re not done yet, pillow,” he mutters dramatically, earning another peal of laughter from you.

He straightens and stares at the pillow again, rubbing his chin like he’s trying to come up with a strategy. “Maybe… I can find a way to make this work.”

“Oh really?” you tease. “You’re gonna outsmart a pillow?”

“Absolutely.” He nods firmly. “If I can’t get past it, I’ll just have to—” With sudden determination, Steve heaves his leg over the top of the pillow, straddling it awkwardly like he’s mounting a wild horse. You raise an eyebrow, biting back a grin.

“Steve—”

He shushes you, waving a hand. “Shh. Let me have this.”

You watch, thoroughly amused, as he tries to maneuver his entire body over the pillow without crushing it—or falling off the bed. He flops, shifts, and mutters curses under his breath, but finally—finally—he makes it to your side, lying beside you with a triumphant smirk.

“See?” he pants, a little out of breath. “I did it.”

“Wow,” you say, clapping lightly. “Captain America, conqueror of pillows.”

“Damn right.” He beams at you, his face flushed from the exertion. “Now…” He reaches for you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, despite the awkward angle. His hand, large and warm, comes to rest gently on your rounded stomach. His thumb makes slow circles over the fabric of your nightshirt, brushing against the small rise. The smile that spreads across his face is soft, almost reverent.

“Hey there, little one.”

The teasing, playful glint in his eyes fades to something softer, more intense as he gazes down at your belly. His palm splays wide, covering the bump entirely, and he rubs with a featherlight touch. You feel the familiar flutter of movement beneath his hand, and Steve’s entire face lights up.

“Did you feel that?” He whispers, eyes wide with wonder, his breath catching.

You nod, your hand covering his, sharing the moment with him. “That’s your baby, Steve.”

He swallows hard, blinking away the sudden moisture in his eyes as he continues to trace gentle patterns on your skin. “I can’t believe it,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “I can’t believe… this is happening.”

Your heart aches at the vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion he’s never been able to hide from you. “You’re going to be a wonderful dad.”

He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Only because you’re going to be an amazing mom,” he murmurs against your skin. His hand lingers on your stomach, his fingers spreading as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of it.

The baby shifts again, and Steve lets out a soft laugh, a sound filled with awe. “I’m pretty sure this little one already loves you more than anyone else.”

“And what about you?” you tease, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.

He shrugs, eyes still fixed on your stomach. “I’ll just have to win them over.” He glances up, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. “Starting with getting rid of this pillow.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Nice try, Captain. It stays.”

He sighs dramatically but leans down to kiss your belly one more time. “Okay, okay, you win,” he mutters, though the smile on his face is nothing short of blissful. “For now.”

You lean back, resting your hand atop his, and the two of you stay like that for a while—Steve murmuring quiet promises to the baby, his fingers drawing lazy circles over your belly. Even with the pillow still stubbornly wedged between you, it’s one of the most intimate moments you’ve ever shared.

Steve might be fighting a losing battle against the Great Pillow, but right now, with his hand on your stomach and your laughter filling the room, he’s never felt closer to you.

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america x you #captain america imagines #captain america x y/n #captain america x female reader #steve rogers #captain america #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x you #steve rogers fanfic #captain america fanfic

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evansbby · 1 month ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark!Steve Rogers x reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: EXTREMELY HEAVY SUBJECT MATTER, heavy depictions of domestic violence, physical and verbal abuse, NON CON, smutt, major angst, rough, breeding kink, dirty talk, mean Steve, housewife kink, domesticity kink, victim-blaming, manipulation, self-deprecating thoughts, self-blame.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Steve was always a great husband. Until he wasn't.

𝐀/𝐍: SUPER DARK. Very angsty. Very heavy subject matter. This fic explores domestic violence. This fic can be triggering so please read warnings beforehand and please do not read unless you have read them.

“Sweetie, come downstairs.”

Steve only has to say it once and it’s enough for you to drop whatever you’re doing and follow wherever his voice is calling you. On this occasion, you switch off the iron and set it aside before straightening your dress and scurrying down to greet your husband.

“I’m sorry, I got wrapped up in my chores,” you explain, helping him take his jacket off before he wraps one strong arm around your waist and pulls you into him. Gosh, he was so big and strong! Steve’s physique always made you nervous and skittish – but in a good way, mostly. Carefully, you link your arms around his neck, reaching up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss.

“You’re still learning,” Steve says after a long, lingering kiss to your lips followed by several small pecks that make you smile. “I don’t expect you to know everything straight off the bat. But for every rule missed, you must repeat it back to me.” His hand slips down to cup your ass through the thin material of your dress, and he gives it a firm squeeze as if to prompt you. “So, what’s the rule, baby?”

“That a good housewife always greets her husband at the door when he gets home from work.” You recite it dutifully, because by now you know all the rules by heart. Steve had made you learn them before you’d got married. You remember the long days of sitting in his lap and repeating each rule after him, and you also remember the soreness of your ass each time you got it wrong.

You never got them wrong anymore.

“Good girl,” Steve praises and you glow. You take his tie off for him, all the while asking him questions about his day. How work was, if anything special happened, if he was hungry. (Of course he was hungry, you knew Steve had a voracious appetite for both food and… other things.) He could eat enough for three men in one sitting – which was probably why he was so big and strong and imposing. And scary. Well, you were definitely scared of him. Sometimes. But you try not to think about that.

“This looks great, sweetheart,” Steve sits down on his place at the head of the table and pulls you into his lap. That was another thing about Steve, another one of his rules. He preferred you in his lap instead of in your own seat – at the dinner table, on the couch, anywhere. Even in the presence of other people, which embarrassed you sometimes but you’d never tell him that. It was one of his rules, and that meant it had to be obeyed, no questions asked.

“Thank you, Steve. I tried really hard to make all your favourites.”

He feeds you and himself at the same time, and now it’s his turn to ask you questions.

“Oh, my day was pretty boring,” you accept the bite of chicken pot pie he feeds you, chewing thoughtfully and trying your best to ignore the way your heart starts pitter-pattering harder. “I did all the chores I was supposed to do, and then I did some shopping. I got us some pretty new bedsheets.”

“That’s nice, sweetie. Did you buy anything for yourself?”

“No. I just came straight home after that, and…” Your voice trails off, and you hope your increased heartrate and clammy palms aren’t showing in your face.

“And what?” Steve blinks, those angelic blue eyes looking at you expectantly.

You shouldn’t lie to him. He was your husband. And it was one of his main rules, after all – you weren’t allowed to lie. And it wasn’t like you’d done anything wrong…

“Well…”

The change in his demeanour is subtle, but it doesn’t escape you how he grabs your arm, his finger stroking against your bare skin as a deathly silence falls over the room, as if he’s awaiting your next words with careful patience.

You shuffle on his lap. Oh, why didn’t you just spit it out the moment he’d come home!? Now he’d think you’d deliberately kept it from him until he’d asked, and-

You take a deep breath, “Th-The car broke down on the way back.”

Silence. You dare to peak up at his eyes to see them impassive, waiting for you to continue. He gently sets the fork down beside his plate, an unreadable expression on his face that does nothing to calm your nerves.

“I don’t know what happened, but it broke down and it wouldn’t move and I…”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

It’s a toneless question, any warmth he’d possessed earlier now gone, and it makes you start shaking even more.

“I tr-tried but there was no service, and I knew you’d be busy, and… and… I’m sorry, Steve, I know I should have called you. I know I’m meant to call you when stuff like this happens, but in that moment I–”

“How did you get home?”

Another question. His voice flat, but the grip on your arm tighter than ever. You gulp.

“L-Luckily there was someone passing by, and they said their auto-repair shop was only five minutes away, and–”

“They?”

Your hands are shaking uncontrollably now, and you clasp them in your lap in a bid to get them to still. Your breathing grows more rapid, you can feel your palms grow sweatier as you squirm under your husband’s deathly calm gaze. You’re too afraid to look directly at him, but you know he’s expecting an answer. For a split second, you consider lying. But the consequences of that notion have you spitting out the truth before you can think about it any further.

“H-He.”

Steve goes deathly still. You hear him inhale sharply, his body tensing up even more underneath you. A part of you wants to burst into tears and run, run, run! But fear has you rooted in place, and even if it didn’t, he’s got a firm grasp on you, and you could never, ever overpower him.

“You got into a car with another man.”

He doesn’t even pose it as a question. No, the words leave Steve’s mouth in a statement of contempt and accusation. Except his tone is still so levelled, so dangerously low and contained.

“N-No! No, Steve, no! He offered to tow the car, and take it back to his repair shop. H-He was fixing it, Steve! And I swear I was only there for fifteen, maybe twenty minutes! I promise, and then I came straight home!” You’re tripping over your words, trying to get your explanation out. The explanation you’d subconsciously been rehearsing in your head all day because you knew it would come to this. You knew the moment that friendly stranger had tapped on your car window and offered his help. But what else could you have done in that moment?

“Steve, I know I should’ve called you the moment I had service, but I –”

“–But you were too busy with the mechanic.”

“No, no, Stevie, it’s not like that at all!” In hopeless desperation for this not to end badly, you bravely lock eyes with him, cupping his face in your hands, “I just didn’t want to bother you, I knew you had an important meeting around that time.” And I was also too scared to call.

His grip on your arm steadily tightens, till you can feel his fingers digging into your flesh. And you can see the vein in his forehead, the way his face is flushed red, the way he’s clenching his jaw, the way his eyes look so dark.

You wince, “S-Steve, please, you’re hurting me.”

“What did you do?”

“H-Huh?”

“In those fifteen, twenty minutes you were at his shop. When you should have been calling or texting me. What did you do?” Steve grips your chin, his thumb and forefinger pressing painfully down on your skin as he makes you look up at him. His expression is unreadable, his tone still low, but you can see that vein pulsing in his forehead. You know what it means.

“Nothing, I promise! I just sat in the waiting area, and…and there was no service, and–”

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not, I swear I'm not, I-"

“You were fucking him.”

The accusation drops like a pin, except it feels more like a car crashing straight into your heart. You feel everything; hurt, panic, but most of all – fear.

And Steve’s eyes are so, so dark, and his words so matter-of-fact. He’s still got a death-grip on you, holding you firmly in his lap while you start shaking violently. Oh no, no, no, no… How could you persuade him that you hadn’t done that? How you could never do that?!

“No, Stevie, I would never! I t-told you, he was fixing the car, I barely spoke to him, I–”

“You fucked him. In the car that I bought for you. And then you thought you could keep it a secret from me.”

He isn’t hearing you. No, he’s going to that place. That place where his eyes turn black and his expression goes all far away, and his anger consumes him to the point where rationality goes completely out the window. And you’d give anything to not be dragged down into his dark place, where your pleas reach deaf ears, where your tears and screams don’t mean a single thing. Well, not until it’s all over.

“I didn’t, Steve, please believe me. I would never cheat on you, never ever. Please, you’re hurting me!”

His fingers clamp down on your upper arm so hard, you know they’ll leave a mark. Another one you’ll have to hide with a meticulous makeup routine and carefully selected clothes.

It takes all your strength to pry his hands off you, and you jump off his lap like a hot poker, slowly backing away as dread fills up your stomach. Dread that increases tenfold the moment he stands up too, up to his full height that makes you cower in total, utter fear.

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” his tone is hard now, louder, more biting, and your eyes zero in on his hands as they curl into fists at his side. “Do you think I was born yesterday?”

You continue backing away slowly, acutely aware that he’s stepping forward each time you take a step back. And like clockwork, you know how this goes. Soon your back would meet the wall, and then… Your eyes dart up behind him, up the stairs… Maybe, if you could get to the bedroom in time, perhaps lock the door?

“ANSWER ME!”

You jump, “No, Steve, I don’t! B-But I’m telling the truth. I barely spoke two words to the man, all I did was wait while he fixed the car. Please believe me,” your voice drops down to a broken whisper, “please…”

No talking to other men. It was perhaps Steve’s biggest rule. And it hadn’t always been like that, but slowly, through time, this rule had developed into one that your husband was the most obsessed with. The most angered by if ever broken by you. And what had started out as a little bit of a jealous streak had turned into white hot, obsessive, possession – almost paranoia. He saw red if a man ever looked your way, and God forbid if he thought it was the other way around…

“You’re fucking lying,” he spits out, each word coated in pure disdain that feels like ten stabs to your heart. “Had you been telling the truth, you wouldn’t have hid it from me until I asked you how your day was. You would have told me yourself, but you didn’t. You slept with someone else, and you thought you could fucking hide it from me, didn’t you?”

“No,” you whisper.

It only takes him two strides to get to you. And you’re frozen in fear but it’s like your body goes into fight or flight mode. He lunges at you, and you know he’s going for your throat but by some miracle you dodge him. And then you run, run, run for the stairs. Two at a time, oh you could make it! You’d lock yourself in the bathroom, wait for his anger to subside. You’d done that before, sometimes it would work, sometimes–

You take the stairs two at a time, but Steve’s legs are much longer than yours. He’s bigger than you in every way possible, stronger, faster too. It’s almost laughable how quickly he catches up to you, his footsteps heavily thudding on the floorboards. On the upper landing, and you’re almost at the bedroom door when he grabs your arm and yanks you back, and then–

SMACK.

The first hit always winds you. You never get used to it – his fist connecting with your jaw, the way your head snaps to the side, the ringing in your ear that blocks out all sound for a handful of moments. And then the pain, the numbing paint that’s all too familiar, radiating and spreading like hateful wildfire as you reach up to shield your face.

“Don’t fucking run from me, you little slut.” Steve slams you against the wall before pinning your wrists by your sides. “Look at me, look at me. I’m going to give you one last chance to tell the truth, and you better think very carefully before you speak, and don't you fucking lie to me. Did. You. Fuck. Him?”

A broken sob escapes your lips, a whimper filled with desperation, “N-No.”

It’s almost like he’s donned a mask as his handsome features twist into a snarl, his eyes narrowed to slits and yet you can still see the crazed darkness that consumes them like a cloud of black smoke. His lip curls in what looks to be contempt, and he shakes his head. “You’re a fucking liar.”

His grip on you tightens, if that was even possible, and his eyes flash, and suddenly he’s shaking you violently, your head hitting the hard wall with a thud as you cry and struggle against him.

“How the fuck could you? How could you sleep with him? After everything I do for you!? Answer the fucking question, how could you!?”

You want to defend yourself, tell him that you didn’t, you wouldn’t, how could he possibly believe you could? But you know there’s no point, you know he doesn’t hear anything when he gets like this. No matter how hard you cry, how much you beg and plead with him. He only sees red, never facts. And you’re still in shock from the first hit, so when you open your mouth nothing comes out.

The slap comes out of nowhere, the harsh cracking sound echoing across the hallway and bouncing off the walls as if to mock you. Your head whips to the side, and you’d have fallen down from the sheer force had he not been holding you up with his other hand.

“P-Please stop,” you croak out, finally finding your voice as the tears stream down your face from the pain of it. From both the physical and the mental anguish because you’d truly done nothing wrong! Hadn’t you? Sometimes he made you question yourself with how angry he’d get at you. “Please, Steve, it hurts, I didn’t–”

“Shut the fuck up and stop lying!” Steve roars, shaking you so hard you have to close your eyes because everything’s starting to spin now. “You thought you were fucking slick, didn’t you? Fucking someone else behind my back while I was at work, then coming home and acting like everything was fine, doing your fucking chores like you didn’t just act like a goddamned whore,” he shakes you again, his grip on your shoulders so hard you feel like passing out. “-thinking I wouldn’t’ find out, thinking I’m some fucking idiot who can’t put two and two together. That’s what you thought, didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?!”

He backhands you hard when you don’t answer, before throwing you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes. Limply, you lay there, half disorientated and half crestfallen because you can’t even find it in you to defend yourself anymore.

He strides into the bedroom before throwing you on the bed, hard. You land with a thud, still clutching your face that blooms with never ending pain. Again, you try to shield yourself, but it’s like a rabbit trying to hide from a hungry lion. A hungry lion fuelled by crazed hatred and contempt. And that’s what hurts you the most – how he looks at you like that. As if you’re the worst person in the world. As if he really hates you and truly believes you’d ever cheat on him.

“You’re mine,” Steve snarls, climbing on top of you and once more grabbing your wrists. “I don’t give a fuck if you think you’re a free piece of ass who can run around town spreading your legs for the first man who looks your way. I own you, you fucking whore, and it’s your fucking fault that I’m doing this now. But you need to fucking learn…”

“N-No, please,” you cry out weakly when he grabs the material of your dress and rips it clean in half. Oh no, not this. Please not this. Not when he was so mad, so violent, not when he had that crazy look in his eye. You couldn’t do it, you couldn’t. He wouldn’t be gentle, and it would hurt so much. And you were already hurting so much. “Steve, I’m begging you, please, please, don’t! D-Don’t, I promise I’ll be better! I didn’t cheat on you but I swear, next time I’ll call you, next time I’ll–”

Another slap to your face shuts you up, and your sobs turn silent. Still there, just silent. Filled with dread and anguish and fear for the horrific roughness that is to come. That always came no matter how hard you begged. No matter how careful you were to follow his rules. You always messed up somehow. Oh, you could’ve been better! You should’ve been better and then you wouldn’t be here! And he’d still be nice, and you’d be sitting downstairs eating dinner and laughing, and…

Oh, how did it get to this?

“Everything I do for you, and you throw it all back in my face,” Steve snarls, and he’s so unrecognisable. Like a dark stranger looming above you, pelting out harsh words that he knows will cut deep, twist like a knife straight through your heart. Make you feel like you’re the worst person alive, and certainly the worst wife. Someone who can’t do anything right. Someone who can’t even keep her husband happy.

“I give you everything you could fucking want, I provide for you, don’t I?” He grabs your face with one hand, squeezing so hard it hurts. “Don’t I? Don’t I fucking give you anything you could ask for? And all I want in return is for you to listen to me. Your goddamned loyalty, that’s all I want. For you to fucking understand that you’re my property, that you need to do what I say. And what do you end up doing? Cheating on me like the fucking whore I always knew you were.”

He makes you believe it sometimes. Well, at first you didn’t, but now you’re not too sure. Maybe you were a terrible wife, because otherwise why would he always get so mad? You always tried your best to keep him happy but you never did enough. Did other wives do more than you did? Was that why their husbands never got mad at them? Was that why they were always happy and relaxed? While you walked on eggshells, waiting for him to explode? Maybe he wouldn’t be like this if he were married to a different woman. A better woman. Someone who didn’t make as many mistakes as you did. Someone who didn’t annoy him that much. Someone who kept him happy and didn’t make him so mad all the time that he had to accuse her of cheating. Someone he didn’t look at with pure hatred in his eyes, like he was doing with you now.

Steve kisses you roughly, possessively. Pressing his lips down on yours as if he wants to imprint the feel of them on you, sear it straight into your memory. As if you could ever forget. But it’s the sweet kisses from Steve that you want to remember, not the hate-fuelled way he’s kissing you now. But you just lie there limply, lie there and let him kiss you, let him pull your now tattered dress off you. And you wonder if he can taste the saltiness of your tears, and you wonder if even a tiny part of him cares.

How did it get to this?

“I’ll show you,” Steve mutters darkly, “I’ll show you who you fucking belong to. And it’s all your fucking fault, because you’re gonna feel it. And maybe this time, you won’t fucking forget it.”

You look beyond his shoulder as he unzips his fly and pulls his hard cock out. You look at the tiny speck on the wall, focus on it really hard. Focus on it till your vision blurs, focus on it so you don’t feel the excruciating pain as he forces his huge cock inside you. Focus on it till you can’t feel his hand wrapping around your throat, till you can’t hear the pure hatred hurtling out of his mouth. Maybe if you focused hard enough, it would all go away. Like magic.

It wasn’t always like this.

You remember your first date with Steve, almost a year ago to the day. Your friends had set you up with him, telling you he was only a couple of years older than you. Great looking, had an established career. But a bit shy, a bit reserved, someone who mostly kept to himself. You’d agreed, because you were shy and reserved too, and suggested ice-skating as a first date activity to help, well, break the ice.

And it had been so funny, because Steve couldn’t ice skate for the life of him.

“I don’t know how you do it,” he’d huffed, awkwardly “skating” up to you in the middle of the rink. Except he was less skating and more just dragging his skates across the ice while holding his huge arms out to balance himself. It was comical, because he looked so big and out of place, and yet so cute that you couldn’t help but giggle.

“It just takes a while to get used to,” you’d answered, skating around him before impulsively grabbing his hands in case he fell over or something. And you’d immediately widened your eyes when you’d realised what you’d done, about to drop his hands like hot pokers because you were never this forward on a first date! But Steve had chuckled, keeping a tight grip on your gloved hands and pulling you closer.

“Nope, I just think it’s in my genetic makeup to be bad at ice skating,” he’d said as he’d let you guide him back to the side of the rink where he could hold the railing, and yet he didn’t let go of your hands as he winked. “Either that, or I’m actually a pro who’s faking it just so you’ll hold my hand.”

You’d gone to the Christmas market after that, and Steve had bought you a hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows on top. You thought he’d stop holding your hand once you were off the ice, but he’d held it throughout your stroll through the markets. You’d delicately sipped your hot drink, secretly thrilled at how nice and safe it felt to hold his big, warm hand. How he was so handsome and he genuinely seemed interested in you.

“You’ve got whipped cream on your nose,” Steve had pointed out, and before you could wipe it off, he’d done it for you. And then his hand had stayed on your face, cupping it gently while the market bustled around you, busy as ever but the two of you seemed to be in your own little bubble. And then he’d kissed you, and it had felt so incredibly right. Like coming home from a long, cold day and being met with the warm familiarity of your own house. A house where you felt safe, and content, because in that moment, that’s what he made you feel.

Safe, warm, content, happy.

“I’m never letting you out of this fucking house again, you hear me?” Steve grunts, slapping your cheek not-so-lightly and knocking you out of your reverie. You blink several times, hoping it’s just a dream. But his rough thrusts remind you that it’s not, and your mouth curls in pain as his hand goes back to wrap around your throat. “Not until you learn not to act like such a goddamned slut, not until you learn to fucking listen to me, and be good. This is all your fucking fault, okay? That’s why I have to teach you.”

“St-Steve,” you cry lightly, unable to breathe because of how he’s pressing down on your neck, “I-I can’t… I can’t…”

“Shut up!” His thrusts grow harder, even more unforgiving. And all you can do is lie there and take it, and hope and pray and wish that you were somewhere else right now. With someone else. Or no one at all. His hands, which you’d known to be so gentle once upon a time, are rough as they squeeze and fondle and slap you as if you’re an animal, a toy, something he wants to pound till he breaks. “You deserve this, you little whore. Tell me, was that fucker’s cock worth it? Was it worth ruining what we have? FUCKING TELL ME!”

So unfair. It was so horrifically unfair. Because you’d never think of cheating on him, never ever. You love Steve, despite everything you love him so much. But he didn’t love you. Of course he didn’t. Maybe he had at first, but he didn’t anymore.

What had you done to make yourself so unlovable? What had you done to make him hate you so much?

Again, you think how he feels like a stranger, a stranger who’s hurting you and violating you in the most unforgiving way possible. All while you lie there and take it. And how was this Steve? The very same Steve you’d fallen in love with less than a year ago? The same Steve who’d confided everything in you? Told you that you were the one for him, told you how much he loved you, how happy he was that he’d found you? How was this the same Steve?

You still remember how surprised your friends had been with how close you and Steve had gotten in such a short amount of time. But they’d also been happy, and taken all the credit of course, as they’d set the two of you up.

And you remember feeling so goddamned happy all the time. Happy whenever you got off work and you got to see Steve. Giddy because of how comfortable you felt around him, despite knowing him for such a short period of time. One date turned to two, which turned to five, and before you knew it, you were looking forward to spending nights at his place. Cooking for him, kissing him, climbing up on his roof and talking all night while staring up into the stars.

It was during one of those moments when Steve had told you that you were the first person he’d felt close to in a very long time. He’d told you that he hadn’t had a great childhood, that his parents hadn’t been very nice people. And because of that, he’d run away when he was sixteen and never looked back. He didn’t speak to them anymore.

He’d told you he’d had a girlfriend before, and they’d been together many years until she cheated on him. And he’d squeezed your hand then, looking up at you from where his head had been resting on your lap, and the stars in the sky had reflected in his eyes so brightly, and he’d told you that you were the first person since then that he’d felt connected with, that he’d felt like he could be himself around. That he loved you so much despite the fact he’d only known you a couple of weeks. He loved you so much and so hard, that you were all he could think about. That you consumed him. And he loved that. And he loved you.

So, where did all that go?

That’s what you wonder now, your body jolting from each unforgiving thrust as the man who is your husband fucks you relentlessly, fucks you like he hates you. Tells you repeatedly, again and again that it’s all your fault.

Your fault. Maybe it is your fault. Oh, if only you hadn’t gone out today! If only you’d just stayed at home and been good! Then the car would’ve never broken down, and none of this would have happened, and Steve would’ve been happy. And you wouldn’t have made him upset like how you always seem to do now.

“I’ll make sure you never fucking disobey me again,” he mutters, pushing your legs up and throwing them over his shoulders while you moan in pain underneath him. His cock is a blur, pummelling in and out of you like a jackhammer. And it’s crazy, the very person who’d made you feel such pleasure in the past, could be inflicting so much pain on you now. “I’ll make sure they all know who you belong to the moment they fucking look at you. Fuck, I’ll show you.”

The contempt in his tone kills you over and over again. Makes you think you’ll never be good enough to make him happy. Make anyone happy. Maybe it was you who had ruined Steve, turned him into the monster he’d become. Maybe it was all your fault, your fault that the sweet, caring man you’d met had turned into your worst nightmare. Someone you were so fucking scared of that sometimes you couldn’t even breathe.

“I’ll knock you the fuck up,” Steve grabs your chin, pressing his forehead against yours, “Maybe then you’ll get it through your head that you’re not the free piece of ass you seem to think you are. And everyone will see who exactly you belong to.”

You whimper, too frightened to protest, your body jolting with each thrust. And it always hurts when he’s this rough, it always burns so bad because of how big he is.

You remember a few months into dating him, when he’d taken your virginity. He’d been so sweet, so gentle. Holding you close and murmuring sweet nothings in your ear while you cried in his arms despite trying to be brave. He’d told you he was big, and that it would hurt and he’d pull out if you wanted him to. But you’d held on to him so tightly that night, because despite the pain, it had been so special to you. And he’d been so kind, so tender, and you’d basked in the glow of being loved. And the pain had been worth it, because you’d felt so close to him, and he’d told you over and over again how much he loved you, how special you were. How you completed him. How you were so pretty, so exquisite, how if he could take all the pain away from you and give it to himself, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Now, he roughly presses his huge palm against your abdomen, and you can see the outline of his cock in your stomach as he continues to jut into you with inhumane force. Each thrust makes the bed rock underneath you, the bedposts hitting the wall with thwack after thwack while you silently lay there, the tears drying up on your cheeks, and yet your whole body still burns with pain from the constant onslaught.

“God fuck, your pussy’s still so fucking tight despite how much of a fucking whore you are,” Steve mutters through gritted teeth, “I’m gonna fill you the fuck up, get you pregnant once and for all so everyone knows not to fuck with what’s mine. And I swear to God, from now on you won’t even look at another man, let alone fuck some hick ass mechanic who’s trying to take you away from me because you’re too goddamned stupid to realise it.”

He hadn’t always so possessive to the point of insanity. Not the way he is now. You remember the old Steve, how he’d see you having innocent interactions with other men and not think twice about it. But slowly and surely, that had changed.

“I don’t like you talking to other men,” Steve had admitted to you once a few weeks into your relationship. “I know it’s irrational but I just hate it.”

“Oh, Stevie, it doesn’t mean anything,” you’d giggled, although you remembered secretly feeling so giddy that he cared enough about you to be jealous. That meant he was serious about you! “It’s you that I want, I couldn’t care less about anyone else!”

“I know,” he’d sighed, grabbing your hands and pressing kisses on them in a way that made you giggle even more. “I guess it’s just something I have to work on.”

But what had started out as simple, innocuous jealousy had morphed into something so much bigger, twisted, and ugly.

It began with a simple request; “please baby, don’t talk to him. I don’t like it.” And you found yourself listening to him, thinking he’d leave you if you didn’t. You distanced yourself from any male friends you had, including co-workers and even your relatives. You couldn’t stand to see Steve upset, and he’d asked you so nicely, so why wouldn’t you listen to him?

After that, he’d made you move in with him. “It’s just easier this way,” he’d assured you, despite the fact that you’d only been going out less than two months, “I feel more comfortable knowing you’re safe in my bed at night, and then I don’t worry as much.”

Then he’d made you quit your job. “I don’t like how those men at your work look at you,” he’d said, “I’ll take care of you, sweetie. You don’t need to work anymore.” And so, you’d quit without a second thought. It’s what had made Steve happy, so why wouldn’t you listen to him?

Then, he’d wanted to know where you were all the time. “I worry about you so much, you have no idea,” he’d told you once when the two of you were in bed and he was holding you close, stroking your hair while you lay on top of his chest. “I need to know where you are all the time, okay? I just… I need to know. And who you’re with. You need to tell me, or else I’ll go insane.”

Constant check-ins, constant texts. You were allowed to go out with your girlfriends, but never past a certain time. And certainly never a holiday or a girls’ trip. He had to know who your friends were, if they had boyfriends or brother, he had to know everything. And you were so in love with him, you hadn’t even realised that maybe it was all too much.

“My ex-girlfriend was having an affair behind my back for one year,” he’d told you quietly one night. One hot August night when the two of you had climbed up on his roof, and he lay with his head in your lap. His feathery lashes fanning his cheekbones, and his face softened by the moonlight, he’d looked like an angel that night. “One whole year, and I didn’t have a clue until the day I caught her. Them. I caught them in my bed.”

You’d listened with baited breath, because Steve never really spoke much about his life before you. Not his childhood, nor his parents who he didn’t speak to. And definitely never his ex-girlfriend.

“I just can’t lose you,” he’d said, staring hard at the dark night sky, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, if you left me. If someone took you away from me, I think I’d die.”

You’d kissed him then, and whispered against his lips, “I’m not going anywhere, Stevie. I love you so much, and there’s nobody else out there for me. Just you. So don’t worry, because you’re stuck with me for as long as you’ll have me.”

He’d sat up and taken you into his arms, hugging you so tight you couldn’t breathe – but in a good way. “Forever,” he’d mumbled into your hair, “I’ll have you forever, and then after that too. I’m never gonna let you go.”

You’d married him a month later in a small ceremony with just your family and some friends. And he’d looked so happy on that day, so handsome and happy and he’d held you close to him the whole night. You were happy too, and thrilled that he was so happy. “Now everyone knows your mine,” he’d whispered in your ear while you two slow-danced, “This is all I’ve ever wanted, you’re all I’ve ever wanted. Thank you. I love you.”

“If you ever fucking cheat on me again, I’ll kill him.” Steve grabs your jaw hard, his fingers pressing against your skin until you cry out, ripped away from the safety of your memories and back into the present. “And you too. You got that? I’ll fucking kill you both.”

You’ve cried all the tears you possibly can, and so you just lay there. Limp, shaking like a leaf yet feeling so numb. So numb and alone because he wasn’t your husband. He was a monster, a monster you didn’t even recognise. Your angelic husband warped into a monster because of you, because of you, because of you!

With a grunt, he unloads inside you. His hot cum searing you from the inside out, and there’s so much of it. And he holds you up, with your legs pressed up over his shoulders, spilling load after load of his seed into you, making sure it stays, making sure it sticks.

And then he throws you aside, rising up to his feet and staring at you with blazing eyes. He’s still fully dressed in his suit, while you lie below him in your tattered dress. The one you’d chosen so painstakingly to wear for him today.

With glassy eyes and limbs that don’t move, you watch him as he does up his fly, muttering profanity under his breath. He’s still so angry, you can tell by that vein on his forehead, and the way his fists are balled up by his sides. You hate his fists. They scare you more than anything else in the whole world.

He doesn’t utter another word. Instead, he leaves. You hear him go down the stairs, hear the jangle of the car keys, the slam and lock of the front door.

He was gone.

Your body curls up into foetal position, and you hug yourself hard. It’s the only solace you can give yourself. Everything hurts. From your face, your jaw, your arms, your whole body down to your heart and your soul. Oh, you hate yourself! For being so weak, so pathetic!

But most of all, you hate yourself for making him how he’d become. If only you’d been a better wife, if only you’d been able to make him happy. Good wives didn’t get hit. So maybe this pain was what you deserved.

If only you hadn’t lied about the car…

Oh, the car! The goddamned car! You wish to God you could turn back time. But what could you have even done differently?

You remember feeling a sense of dread the moment the car had stopped working. And it had increased tenfold when you’d taken your phone out to call Steve, only for there to be no signal. Of course, the car had decided to stop working in the middle of nowhere. It was less than ideal, since you had to get home and finish all your chores before Steve got home. Otherwise, he might get mad, and then…

“Hey there, you OK?”

The knock on your window makes you jump, and you find a man peering in at you, a friendly yet slightly concerned look on his face. Oh gosh, Steve would be so mad if I spoke to this man now, you think to yourself. And yet… there’s not much else you can do. Your car won’t start back up, and you don’t know the first thing about repairing it.

“H-Hey,” you roll your window down, trying not to look directly at the stranger’s tanned face. “I’m OK, thanks for asking. My, uh, my car isn’t though. I think. It won’t start up.”

The man nods, “Yeah, that’s why I came over. Saw you on the side of the road and knew you wouldn’t be parked here for no reason.” He pauses, listening to the hum of your engine with a thoughtful look on his face. “I think I recognise the sound. If I could get this car back to my auto-shop, I think I could fix it.”

“Really?” Hope fills your heart before reality comes crashing down. Steve wouldn’t like for you to be going into auto-shops with men you didn’t know. You weren’t allowed to talk to any man unless Steve approved it. And you gulp, thinking how mad he’d be if he found out. The hairs on the back of your neck prickle as you think about the last time he’d gotten mad at you… No, you couldn’t go with this man, it wouldn’t be worth the trouble.

“I, uh, I think I can get it to start back up myself. Thanks anyways though!” You say with false brightness. But after a few more failed attempts, you slump back against your seat in defeat, and the man chuckles.

“A valiant effort. But as I said, my shop’s only about a mile and a half down that way. And luckily, I’ve got my tow truck with me now. Let me help you, and you’ll be on your way in no time.”

His face softens when he sees the hesitant look on your face, and he runs a hand through his unruly brown hair before fishing something out of his pocket. “Here’s my card, just so you know I’m legit. C’mon, let me help you. I couldn’t possibly leave a lady out here all on her own with a broken-down car that’s an easy fix.”

You bite your lip. His business card did look legit. And after another quick glance at your phone – still no signal – you nod and smile at the stranger. Maybe Steve would be proud of you for taking the initiative and getting yourself out of a sticky and potentially dangerous situation.

The ride to the man’s auto-repair shop is short enough. And he spends the next fifteen minutes fixing your car, all while you sit in the waiting room fretting and typing out texts to Steve that you’re too scared to send. You need to think of the perfect way to explain what had happened with the car, the most delicate explanation that wouldn’t result in him getting mad. Oh, you didn’t want him to get mad! Not when things had been going so well recently, and he hadn’t gotten mad in a long time, and you were starting to believe that he still loved you, and wasn’t annoyed by you all the time, and didn’t hate you, and–

“She’s almost fixed!” The man had announced cheerily, walking into the waiting room and shooting you a bright smile, one that had melted off his face the moment he’d seen the look of worry on your face. “Hey, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” standing up and smoothening down your dress, you’d shot the man a puzzled look. “What do you mean, almost?”

“Almost as in I need an extra part to complete the fix, but it won’t come in until tomorrow.” The man runs a hand through his wavy brown hair that curls charmingly at the base of his neck. “But don’t worry, she’ll be back home in your driveway by noon tomorrow at the latest. I promise.”

“T-Tomorrow?” your blood runs cold, and it’s insane how your hands start shaking instantaneously. “But it can’t stay here overnight, my…my husband, he’ll find out, and then–”

“Husband?” The man repeats slowly before quickly gathering himself and taking a step back. “Well, ma’am, I’m sure he won’t mind about the car, so long as you’re alright. And don’t worry, I can give you a lift home.”

“N-No, you don’t understand, he…” you swallow harshly, squeezing your eyes shut for a second and clasping your hands to get them to stop shaking so violently, “N-No, he can’t know I was here, he can’t, he’ll…”

“Why don’t you let me speak to him,” the mechanic says slowly, pointing at your phone. “I’m sure I could explain the problem with the engine–”

Your eyes widen in pure fear, “NO! I mean, uh, no, that won’t be necessary. I just, oh God, I-I…” Suddenly, you can’t think straight. If Steve found out you were at this man’s auto-shop alone with him, that he’d spoken to you, that you’d spoken back to him… Oh no, Steve couldn’t find out. He’d get so mad, and he’d hurt you, and then everything would be awful for days.

“Is everything okay, ma’am?” The guy has a look of serious concern painted on his face as he stands before you. He’s tall, tall just like Steve, and looks just as strong too. “I know it’s none of my business, but you look awfully scared.”

You force a laugh that comes out a tad too high-pitched, “I’m fine! I’m totally fine! I just…”

“Let me give you a lift home,” the man says gently, taking a hesitant step closer to you. “I can speak to your husband, let him know it wasn’t your fault that your car broke down.”

“That’s not what he’d be angry about,” your eyes widen when you realise you’ve said too much. “I mean, he won’t be angry at all. Not at all. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

More than him, it seems like you’re trying to persuade yourself.

“I, uh, I’ll call myself a cab,” you say, but the man places his warm hand on your wrist to stop you, and the contact makes you jump. He’s so… gentle. It’s a strange sensation. And then he just… looks at you. For a handful of seconds that feel like ages, he just looks at you with inquisitive blue eyes, as if he’s trying to read you, or at least trying to understand.

“Please, allow me,” finally, he tears his eyes away, and he’s got his phone out and he’s already dialling the number, “the reception here isn’t great, but my phone seems to work through it.”

It’s only later, when you’re getting into the cab, that he grabs your arm once more. Well, “grab” would be the wrong word. He gently placed his hand on your arm as if to stop you, and you hesitate, half distracted by the need to get home before Steve and come up with an excuse about the car, and half curious about what the mechanic has to say.

“You have my card,” he says slowly with significance, his voice lowering to a deep rumble. “Call me tomorrow about your car. Or,” he adds when you start closing the cab door, “if you feel like there’s another reason you should call me, then please just do it. I’m here to help.”

He holds your gaze for a moment or two, a few wayward strands of his brown hair falling over his forehead before he pushes them back. You find yourself forgetting to breathe, before you quickly shake your head and force a smile before looking away.

“Thank you for your help.”

Now, you lie alone on your bed, on your side with your knees up to your chest, shielding yourself and your poor body from whatever lies ahead. You can feel the outline of the mechanic’s card in your dress pocket, and muster up the strength to take it out.

Should you call him? It’s not like you had anyone else. Your family lived miles and miles away on the other side of the country. Steve had moved you to a different state after the wedding, claiming the two of you needed a fresh new beginning to start your new life together. And so you’d left all your friends and family behind without a second thought, loyally following your husband into the sunset because you loved him and trusted him.

You’d made new friends now, but they were the wives of Steve’s friends, and you didn’t know if you could trust them. What if they took Steve’s side? What if they recognised that it was you who’d turned him so awful and mean? That it was you who was the rotten one, poisoning everything you touched because you couldn’t keep him happy, couldn’t be a good wife?

You stare so hard at the card until your vision blurs, and then you stare some more. After a while, your thoughts just cease altogether, and you just lie there. Just wishing you didn’t exist. Wishing you were never alive to begin with, wishing you never felt the immense love in your heart that you still do for Steve. Wishing love never existed and neither did you. That you just disappeared into thin air one day and Steve could move on and be happy and be better for someone who made him better. Someone he genuinely loved and cared for and wanted to be better for.

Someone who so clearly wasn’t you.

You don’t know how long you lie there. Motionless. It’s different this time. In the past, after he’s left you like this, you’ve been able to get back up. Brush yourself off, make yourself pretty again and pretend it never happened. For the sake of both of you, just pretend it never happened.

You remember the first time he’d hit you. It was a month or so after your wedding, and Steve had taken you out to a work party of his. And you’d felt so relaxed, so pretty on the arm of your husband, wearing the dress he’d chosen for you, the jewellery he’d bought you. The diamond earrings sat pretty on your ears, a present from him that very night. He’d come up behind you while you’d sat at your vanity getting ready, and kissed your cheek and told you how much he loved you, how you deserved all the prettiest things in life because you were the prettiest thing in his life.

You’d felt so at ease, being led around by Steve whilst you mingled and spoke with his work colleagues. But his good mood hadn’t lasted as the night had gone on, and halfway through the evening, you’d sensed him go silent next to you. Deathly silent. His grip around your waist had tightened to the point where it was almost uncomfortable, and his jaw was tight too. His lips set into a straight line.

He’d been just as silent on the drive back home, and it was only once the two of you were back in your bedroom, that he’d chose to speak.

“You were getting awfully comfortable with some of the men at the party,” he’d commented while you were undoing his tie.

You’d wrinkled your nose, “What?”

“Don’t say what. You know exactly what I mean.” His tone was cold, colder than you’d ever heard it. Soon, you’d grow used to the tell-tale signs that he was going into that dark, forlorn place he went to when he got like this. But back then, you didn’t really have an inkling.

“D-Did I do something to upset you, Stevie?” You’d asked hesitantly, not knowing what to make of his detached anger. You’d reached back to undo the zipper of your dress. Usually, he did it, but he wasn’t offering to do it then.

“Do I have to spell it out for you?” His tone had been so cutting that you’d physically flinched, and when he’d turned back around, his eyes were blazing accusatorily, “You were acting like a goddamned slut tonight, flirting with all those men.”

You remember the insult not even hitting you, because the absurdity of his statement had taken you so far off guard that instead, a giggle had escaped from your lips. An awkward giggle, like you had no idea what to say to such an absurd accusation.

“Do you find this funny?” You’d never forget the look he’d given you then, how he’d strode across the room, how big he’d looked, how scared you’d felt in that one second.

“No, Stevie, I was just–”

The strike had come out of nowhere. Like a clap of thunder, almost. You’d heard it before you’d even felt it. The slap that seemed to reverberate off the walls, except it was his palm against your cheek. The force of it had you reeling, and you’d lost your balance. Crashed against the wall with a thud before you’d fallen down.

You still remember how unreal it all had felt. Like an out of body experience, almost. Surreal. And the pain had bloomed instantly on the side of your face, and you’d looked up at him and he’d looked down at you, a horrified look on his face. He’d held his hand out in front of him, staring at it hard, and the darkness from his eyes had cleared.

Back in the present, and you can’t stop shaking. You feel numb, empty, and yet you can’t stop shaking. You try to think back to the old Steve, the good Steve. The sweet Stevie who was a little bit shy, and yet so charming and witty at the same time. So poetically in love that he’d made you fall for him, hook, line and sinker. The romantic Steve who’d whisked you off your feet and you’d happily followed him into the sunset without a second glance backwards.

Steve. The love of your life.

You just wish he still loved you back.

You don’t know how long you lie there. Seconds, minutes, hours, they don’t mean a thing. Not when this was to be your reality for the rest of your life. Again, you feel the charming mechanic’s card in your hand, but now you can’t even muster up the energy to hold it up.

It’s the dead of the night when he finally comes back. You haven’t moved an inch, but the sound of the front door shutting and the footsteps thudding up the stairs has alarm bells going off in your head.

No, no, no. No more hitting, no more pain. You couldn’t take another slap, you couldn’t, you couldn’t, you couldn’t! In fight or flight mode, you heave yourself up, shaking with fear. The only place you can think of to hide is under the bed. And maybe he wouldn’t care to look for you, maybe he’d stay in the guest room, maybe he’d just leave you alone.

But you see Steve’s shoes as he enters your shared bedroom, and you find that you’re holding your breath. Slowly, he steps inside, and you hear him call out your name quietly. You squeeze your eyes shut, hoping to be transported away. Far, far away where nothing cruel could reach you, and you could be happy all the time and not have to feel any pain, not ever, ever, ever!

It’s when his fingers wrap around your ankle that you start crying again. But no sound comes out, perhaps because you’re in shock. Or maybe because you’re just too scared. Rigid, frozen in complete fear, you’re limp as he pulls you out from under the bed.

“Oh God,” he whispers as the stark white orange light of the bedroom hits you. “Oh…Oh God… I…” his voice catches, his blue eyes clear and alert, blinking several times as he takes you in. Your poor, quivering body, and haunted, dead eyes that look anywhere except at him.

“I didn’t mean to,” he hoists you up into his lap gently as he sits on the cold floor, a mix of shock and regret on his face as he repeatedly shakes his head, surveying your face, your arms, your shoulders, your stomach, “Baby, I… Oh God, I didn’t mean it, I swear I didn’t…”

You find the tiny speck on the wall once more, and you fix your gaze upon it until it blurs. You're so numb, so far away, and you barely feel his hand as he gingerly touches the bruises and marks he’s left on you. Some old ones, some new. Some that had yet to turn dark and noticeable, some half covered in makeup from before.

Carefully, Steve strokes your face, the same side he’d slapped repeatedly only a few hours before. But the gentleness doesn’t register to you. Nothing does. You stare at the speck even harder, wondering if it was always there.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes, his tone hushed, regretful. Filled with anguish. “Baby, I’m so sorry, I… I got angry, I shouldn’t have got angry but I just…” his voice trails off as he stares hard at his own hand. As if he can’t believe he’s done this, as if he can’t believe that his own hand was capable of doing so much damage.

The speck on the wall seems to get bigger. You wish to God it would swallow you up whole.

“I swear I won’t do it again; I won’t ever hurt you like this again, I swear on my life,” Steve holds you up against his chest, cradles you like you’re a baby. And it feels so alien, to be handled so delicately. He hugs you close, burying his face in your shoulder, and that’s when you hear his voice break, “I won’t do it again, you have my word I’ll never hurt you again. I’m so fucking sorry, oh God, I’m so sorry.”

I won’t do it again. You’d heard that before. That’s what he’d said the first time he’d hit you. That’s what he said after every time. The speck grows blurry.

“Baby, please say something,” he stops hugging you, but still holds you in his lap, his strong arms around you in a way that should make you feel safe but right now you just feel nothing. His voice is thick, “I swear on everything, I won’t lay a hand on you again. I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know why I get like that. Everything goes black, and it’s like I can’t think straight and then by the time I can, it’s too late. But I swear I’ll get better, I swear on my life this won’t happen again, baby, just please. Please say something.”

If you painted over the speck, would it still be there? Would it disappear entirely, or would the paint chip off after enough time had passed, and reveal the ugliness once more?

“I’ll go to anger management, therapy, you name it,” he shakes you gently, his thumbs stroking your cheekbones. “I want to get better for you, be better for you. I know I’m not a good man, baby, I know you deserve better and I’ll do anything. I swear, this is the last time I hurt you, okay? Please, just believe me, okay? Just say something.”

Steve stands up with you in his arms, your limbs falling limply down by your sides, your head lolling down too. Almost like you’re not real, like you’re a doll who was alive for a little while but you’re not anymore. You certainly don’t feel alive. You don’t feel anything. Just numbness.

Tenderly, he lays you down on the bed. The same bed he’d roughly thrown you down and violated you on just a few hours earlier. And a part of you, a tiny part of you from the deepest recesses of your mind, wants to muster up the courage to look into his eyes. To search for the man you love, to see if he’s still there. But the dark numbness eats you from the inside out, and so you just stare blankly at your speck on the wall.

“I promise I’ll change,” Steve repeats, the desperation now evident in his tone as he clutches your face, wills you to look at him. “Please, just listen to me. Believe me when I say I’ll change. Wh-When we… when we have our little girl, I’ll change. I’ll be a good husband and a good dad, make both of you happy. I won’t ever get like this again, I can promise you that now, alright? That’s a promise I’m making to you right now.”

A child? Would he hurt it too? Would he grow to hate it too, simply because it would be yours?

He grabs your hand, and his is so warm. Or is yours the one that’s freezing cold? It had been cold under the bed, but you’d liked it. Feeling cold was a different kind of pain, one that distracted you from the pain he’d caused you.

He kisses you desperately, all over your face as if trying to get you to say something back to him. Instead, you notice another speck on the ceiling above the closet. How many were there? Were they secretly laughing at you? Mocking you for staying so long in a speck-filled house?

“Baby?” Steve’s eyes glisten, his face so ghastly pale as he grabs your hand and presses more desperate kisses on it, “Baby, please say something. Say you forgive me. I-I don’t know why I do it, okay? I just, I’m so fucking terrified of someone taking you away from me. Taking away the one person, the only person, in my whole fucking life who means everything to me. I couldn’t stand it, I thought he’d take you away from me, and I just saw red, and I’m so sorry. I hate myself for doing this to you, baby. I’m so sorry, please say something!”

But you can’t! How can you, when it doesn’t even feel like you’re real anymore?

The specks are all around you now, growing larger and larger. You can hear Steve apologising over and over again, hugging you close as he begs for your forgiveness. But you’re too far away, so far away that you can barely hear him anymore. Lightyears away, in your own universe where you’re brave and confident and nobody ever messes with you. Nobody ever hurts you. And you take care of yourself, and it’s enough.

You find yourself hurtling through windows of time, entering one before flitting into the next as the specks grow so large it feels like they’re consuming you. You find yourself observing your birthday last year, when you’d baked your own cake and Steve had spent hours decorating it for you. Using your favourite-coloured frosting, and of course you’d gotten some on your face. He’d kissed it off for you, and told you that you were adorable.

Now you’re on Steve’s roof, the night he’d told you about his big promotion at work. You’d yelped in excitement, hugged him so hard it had hurt – but the good kind of hurt. And he’d had those stars in his eyes as he’d held you. “You’re my best friend, you know?” he’d said, “Every time anything good happens, you’re the first person I look for in the room to tell.”

Memory after memory, one cherished moment after another. And you’re so possessive of these moments, like you want to lock them up in a jar and keep them safe forever. Not let them get tainted like how he’d gotten tainted. Because of you, of course.

Maybe I’ll stay here, you think as the specks continue to consume you. It’s safe here. I’m happy here. He’s happy too. Maybe I’ll stay forever...

But something's stopping the specks from swallowing you up and taking you away. Taking you far, far away where Steve couldn't hurt you anymore, the place where there was only love and never hate. But something's stopping you, pulling you back like gravity that you simply couldn't defy. A stranger's voice, warm and sweet like honey, cutting through the freezing cold numbness.

“If you feel like there’s another reason you should call me, then please just do it. I’m here to help.”

You feel the card clutched tightly in your hand; the hand Steve isn’t holding on to. And it pulls you back, back, back to reality. Another memory, but this time it’s a stranger with blue eyes and a friendly smile.

The specks slowly start to disappear, and you find yourself back in your bedroom. Back in Steve’s arms. Back in his warm embrace, except it does nothing to stop you from feeling so numbingly cold.

“I love you,” Steve whispers, “I love you so much, I’d die if I lost you. Please forgive me, baby. Come back to me. I won’t ever hurt you again.”

He lifts you up and hugs you once more, holding on to you so tightly as if his life depends on it. Strokes your hair and whispers sweetly in your ear, says all the words of regret that you've heard before. But you lie motionless in his arms like a broken doll, your poor cheek resting limply on his shoulder.

And it’s over Steve’s shoulder that you look down at the card in your hand, and read the man’s name, along with his number. And suddenly, a coolness washes over you.

Your finger twitches. You take a deep breath.

“Baby?” Steve draws back till you’re both face to face once more, and his eyes have those stars in them again, the stars you'd fallen in love with, the stars you'd wanted back so bad that you'd let it get this far. He cups your face, and presses his forehead against yours.

“You forgive me, don't you?"

THE END.

Okay so. That was a lot. It was a lot to write. If you're still here, then thank you for sticking around till the end. I hope you enjoyed reading it and I hope you found the story that I was trying to tell compelling. Please do let me know what you thought. What do you think reader will do now? What do you WANT her to do now? Who was the stranger? Why is Steve the way he is? IDK. Any raw thoughts and feedback would be incredible as always. Thanks so much for baring with me while I tried to post this fic. One last thing - this is a work of complete fiction. Thank you <3

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans #tw dv #tw dv mention

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espinosaurusrexex · 11 months ago

Text

Bad Boys Don't Buy Flowers

CEO!BuckyBarnes x Female!Florist!Reader AU

read Steve's story here

summary: Bucky would have never thought, he’d be chasing after a girl. Not when all of them usually fell at his feet. But when he finds himself entangled in a deal born out of a desperate argument with his assistant, he realizes there is nothing he wouldn't do for you: The independent florist who is adamantly dragging him to the homeless shelter every chance she gets. There is just one problem: Bucky doesn't know how to tell you. And the teasing from his friends is certainly not making things easier for him...

a/n: I should be working instead of writing long ass billionaire love stores, but here we are: you and me both... happy it happened and already regretting the tasks we neglected because of it (please enjoy this wholesome piece of imagination - I know it's long, but I hope you’ll give it a try nonetheless)

word count: 16.4k 😬

warnings: play boy behavior/talk, a reader that knows what she wants, Bucky falls first (and hard 🤭), mentions of war, injuries, and death (all not applying to Bucky for once), just so much fluff, questioning life choices (angst with happy ending!), smut (this is freaking love making okay?!?!? praise and confessions, dry humping, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, touch starved Bucky - in a way…, sensual and beautiful, protected p in v, cock warming, and aftercare) !MINORS DNI!

ﾟ✫ 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ✶ 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅 𝒐𝒏 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ✧*･ﾟ𝒄.𝒂𝒊 ｡✭･ﾟ

"Did you place the order?" Bucky leaned back in Steve's office chair and watched as his friend paced the space with a hand in his pocket.

Steve was grinning like an idiot when the answer on the other side satisfied him and Bucky felt a tiny little spark in his chest at the sight. He'd watched his best friend go through life with a default tension in his shoulders for what seemed like forever. All until he found Bambi - a sweet and incredibly clumsy woman who was formerly his maid. But they found each other and Steve had been a happier man ever since.

Bucky was happy for him, too. He was a lot more fun to be around ever since, but it did remind him that Bucky himself had yet to find the one that would make his heart beat faster.

It was a ridiculous idea, of course. Bucky was never the one for relationships or long-term commitment in the romantic department. To be honest, he wasn't even sure he was capable of love - not that he needed it, anyway. He had no problem with having a new plaything every other night. It was fun and kept him on his toes.

"Perfect. Okay. Thanks, Sharon." Bucky sat up straighter in the chair. "Yeah, next Friday. See you later."

Steve sighed as he slumped on the sofa across the room. He watched the ceiling, looking like a love-drunk schoolboy, even though he tried so hard to conceal it. Bucky knew him too well.

"Dinner is booked.”

“You’re really doing it huh?"

“Yup." There was no doubt in Steve’s answer, but rather a special kind of excitement Bucky rarely felt.

The brunette just nodded as he looked to the ground, the chair swaying as he pushed his knees from one side to the other.

Steve just grinned in response. "So when are you gonna let me help you find the one?"

Bucky perked up, amusement seeping through his gaze when he answered his best friend. ”Me? No no. I’m fine."

Steve shrugged. ”You know, that’s exactly what I said about a year ago."

"No offense, Stevie, but you and I were in vastly different sex universes back then. I’m getting laid - I’m aaaaall good." He leaned back with a smug grin and Steve just frowned in response. "You can be as happy as you want but don’t start trying to get everyone on the girlfriend train. That’s a Rogers and Wilson thing. I don’t need that type of commitment."

Steve remained silent as he watched Bucky stand up and head for the door, a thoughtful look on his face when his friend passed him.

“Look, I’m happy for you, truly. I just don’t see myself in that type of life.” Bucky’s hand squeezed Steve’s shoulder just as the blonde cocked his head to the side.

“Never?”

Bucky winked at him. “You know I like to live in the present. But speaking of the future... You’re still up for tomorrow night, right?”

“Tomorrow night?"

"Ironbar."

Steve’s eyes widened. ”Shit. No, I promised Bambi we'd-" Steve stopped when he saw Bucky's eyebrows raise in amusement. “...next time."

Bucky sighed in defeat. "Tell her to leave some Steve time for the rest of us, will ya?" And with a laugh of Steve’s, he shut the office door, walked past Sharon’s desk, then Natasha’s, and then into his own office.

❁ ❁ ❁

The clock hand barely struck 8am when another set of files hit Bucky’s desk.

Bucky huffed as he watched Natasha stand before him with an amused smile, her hands on her hips that were hugged by a tight pencil skirt. “Looking for something, Boss?”

“No...”

“Something like... the invitation to that business dinner on Thursday?” She mused and carefully pulled a piece of paper from the stack between them.

Bucky snatched it with a glare. “It would be much more helpful if you sorted this chaos rather than stand here and be a smartass.” He looked at the invite, the familiar company logo printed in the top right corner. “And why are people even sending paper invites anymore? We’re a security firm,” he sat the paper down and tapped on it with his index finger, “just shows how desperately they need consulting.”

“Don’t blame me for it.” Nat threw her hands in the air. “And stop complaining. I know you’re the cyber guy but a couple papers shouldn’t faze you. I’ve got more important things to do that don’t particularly fall in your area of expertise.” She turned to leave but Bucky stopped her before her heels could reach the threshold.

“Are you saying your job is harder than mine?” Bucky watched the mess on his desk, then the computer screen with his calendar and the impending meeting with those jackasses from Hydra Enterprises. There was no way sorting a couple of papers could be worse than Alexander Pierce and his nephew Brock Rumlow. One of them barely knew how to send an E-mail and the other kept subtly asking if it was legal to install cameras in the lady’s room.

“If you’re referring to your inability to sort a couple files, then yes, I assume you wouldn’t last a day with my tasks.”

“Now that’s bullshit.”

“Is it now?” She raised her left eyebrow with a half-smirk. “I want to see you deal with idiots when scheduling appointments and keeping everyone’s day structured while also organizing the annual fundraiser.”

Bucky huffed, leaning back and crossing his arms before his chest. He averted his eyes from his assistant and the stupid pile of paperwork in front of him. He really did not want to sort through all of that.

“Call me old fashioned but I believe assistants should sort files.” He shrugged, knowing Natasha wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had been working together for years, he respected her as much as his other friends. And presenting the fierce redhead with a challenge to get out of some annoying tasks was something he would gladly do.

“I’ll tell you what. I will sort your papers in my assistant duties.” She made a mockery curtsy - as much as her skirt allowed - and then lifted her finger before the smile could spread on Bucky’s face. “If... you plan the charity event.”

Bucky was shocked. He didn’t expect her to play dirty - well to be fair, it wouldn’t be Nat if she weren’t teasing a little bit - but still. “You think you can handle that, boss?”

Bucky closed his mouth and eyed her suspiciously. It couldn’t be that hard to do. And certainly would be a nice distraction from the impending meeting of doom as well as the following consulting sessions. He let his head fall back and stared at the ceiling.

Was he really going to trade some papers for a whole Gala? That paperwork really sucked. He loved how easily he could wash through files on his computer. Sadly, his programs didn’t help much in the analog part of the job.

“Are you backing down, Barnes?” Nat’s teasing voice rang through to him and he snapped back into his attitude.

“Never.” He stood up, fixed his suit, and then reached his hand toward her. Natasha shook it with an evil smirk. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Ms. Romanoff.”

And with that, she took the papers from Bucky’s desk and carried them out of his office with a triumphant smile.

❁ ❁ ❁

It wasn’t long before Bucky regretted his decision.

What had he been thinking? A Fundraiser... a fucking fundraiser. Bucky couldn’t care less about them.

Okay, that wasn’t true. He deemed charity to be a very important part of society... and economy. There were times in his life when he was close to needing their help as well. And Bucky swore he’d never let that aspect of his story slip from his mind ever. Still, it didn’t prevent him from living lavishly and making use of the things he had access to now.

Usually, the organization of the charity gala was stuck on Nat and Sharon. Mainly because they had always done an amazing job. The tabloids had only positive things to write about it and always pushed the number before Christmas even higher. Which urged Bucky even more to do just as good of a job this year.

There was just one problem.

He had no idea how to organize events this size. Bucky could program a software from scratch, hack into classified state files on a bad day. Hell, he could track every person’s phone in New York in his sleep. But he never expected to be overwhelmed by a couple invites and color palettes.

Though as little as he knew about his new task, he liked a challenge, and he would most certainly not give Natasha the satisfaction of asking her for a checklist.

So, the internet had to do for now. He’d found a blog by a highly motivated suburban mom, that led with step-by-step instructions on how to plan the perfect event. It might not have been on the scale of what Bucky had to do, but considering his lack of knowledge on the topic, he figured this would do until Natasha snatched the task away from him again.

The first thing on the list was to find a date and venue. But since the gala of Shield Protection Services was always held at the same venue, Bucky figured they had booked it indefinitely for the event.

Next was to find the perfect florist that ‘is able to put your vision into extravagant floral arrangements’. Yeah... that was another problem.

Bucky didn’t buy flowers. The only women he deemed important enough in his life to get them were his sister and his mother. And well, both of them had passed away. So, picking the right flowers hadn’t been a problem until now. His mother and sister were always enchanted by the bouquets they received when Bucky was younger. He’d steal them from their neighbor‘s garden. But since he could grow a beard, Bucky hadn’t even touched flowers anymore.

Well, that had to change now.

Bucky stepped into the elevator just to be greeted by big round eyes and an even wider smile. “Paying Steve a visit?” Bucky teased with a half smile as he hugged Bambi and then faced the doors.

“I’m actually meeting Natasha for lunch,” she shifted from one foot to the other, “I didn’t realize she was already at the restaurant... so that’s where I’m headed now.”

Bucky chuckled at her slight awkwardness. But it wouldn’t be Bambi if she wouldn’t miss such a detail.

“Do you need a ride? My driver’s waiting for me anyway.”

“Tha- yes that would be nice, thank you.”

Bucky just nodded and gestured for her to lead the way when they reached the ground floor.

“Where are you going?” Bambi asked as he stared out the window of the car. They had told the driver where they needed to go. And Since Bucky had no particular destination in mind, it worked out well.

“I’m on the hunt for the perfect flower shop to cater to my vision of our charity event.” He chuckled and shook his head at his own words. He’s never thought he’d say this.

Her eyes peered at him with intrigue, a glimmer washing over them when she asked: “Are you taking suggestions?”

Bucky sat up straighter now. “Uh, yes. Gladly.” This was easier than he thought.

“There is this wonderful shop in Brooklyn. It’s called AsGarden on 18th Avenue. You can’t miss it, it’s like a breath of fresh air between all those ugly beige buildings. The woman owning it has great taste, she managed to make the perfect bouquet for me without ever seeing me.” She turned forward, a little flustered, “Steve gets me flowers from there sometimes, they’re my favorite.”

“Did you hear that, Stan?” A victorious smile spread on Bucky’s face as he squeezed Bambi’s shoulder. “Next stop is Brooklyn.”

“Alright, Sir.”

“You don’t know how much easier you just made my life.” Bucky leaned forward and kissed her cheek before the car came to a stop and he bid her goodbye.

“I’m glad I could help.” She waved back and then headed into the restaurant.

Maybe the event wasn’t so difficult after all, Bucky thought as he leaned back in his seat, his legs spreading in satisfaction.

❁ ❁ ❁

The cool air snook through your shop when the familiar bell of a customer chimed above the door. You’d seen many people frequent your shop daily. Women, men, teenagers, elderly. All came from different backgrounds and varying stories in their repertoire. Your store was in the heart of Brooklyn - a bunch of people mixed in this town. And you’d made it your mission to find the perfect flower arrangement for each and every one of them.

The man who had set off your little bell this afternoon was different though. A perfectly tailored coat adorned his broad shoulders. The way his hands were tucked in his pockets revealed the expensive-looking suit beneath as well as the toned chest that hid beneath the button-up in vain. His presence oozed money as he sashayed through your shop, carefully grazing delicate pedals with the aura he brought in.

He seemed to own the world, but something about him just didn’t fit between the colorful flowers surrounding him. If you didn’t know any better, he looked a little lost, eyes glassy as they swayed through the sea of colors and shapes soaking in fresh water.

“Good afternoon, sir. Can I help you?”

He ripped around, fixed his posture, and approached the cash desk. When his eyes landed on you, he froze. Just for a second, however, and then his jaw snapped into a handsome smile as he leaned forward.

“I sure hope so.” His white teeth flashed between his lips before his tongue stroked over them. It was capturing. “This flower shop has been recommended to me. You wouldn’t happen to be the owner?”

“Well actually, I am,” you smiled hiding the pride swelling in your chest from the comment.

“Great. What is your capacity when it comes to event arrangements?”

“That depends...” You smiled as the handsome stranger raised his eyebrows in intrigue. “I reckon we have vastly different understandings of what is small and... big.” Your eyes wandered over his expensive coat again. The innuendo was accidental, really, but he seemed to be amused nevertheless.

“My company is hosting its annual charity event in November... at The Glasshouse.”

“So just as I suspected...” You nodded and strode past him towards the fall flowers.

“Pardon me?”

You turned your head towards him and winked. “Bigger than I thought.”

“So?” He approached you with his hands still in his coat pockets and peeked over your shoulder. “Can you do it?”

“Totally.” Then you gestured to the flowers. “Do you have any preferences? I don’t have all the flowers in yet, but I recommend going with some soft orange and sage tones... to cater to the season.”

“Forgive me, sweetheart, but I am useless when it comes to this kind of stuff. My qualities lie more in the technical aspect of things.” A hand ran through his thick dark hair and the gesture made him look boyish.

“Alright let me rephrase my question then: Do you trust me?” A sly smile sneaked on his face, matching yours.

He tipped his head. “My life is in your hands.”

“Good. Then please write down your details here.” You pushed a form over the counter once you reached it again, and the man just followed you around like a lost dog. You watched as his hand swiftly filled out the free spaces on the paper, curious which company he had been referring to.

“Wait you’re working for SPS?”

“I own it, sweetheart.” The man adjusted his coat as you tried to look unimpressed. “My name is James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.” His hand extended over the shiny countertop until it encased your smaller fingers and his warmth seeped through your body.

Bucky’s smile brightened when you revealed your name to him, telling you how beautiful it was, and you began to struggle not to show the effects it had on you. Then he resumed filling out the order and slid it over to you again.

“What cause are you raising money for this year?” You asked as you sorted the paper into your books, only to be surprised when Bucky seemed a little nervous all of a sudden.

You knew Shield Protection Services was a pristine company with reach to people whose powers you could barely comprehend. Whatever they were choosing, it would have a big impact on the change their chosen organization was advocating.

“Well, to be honest... we haven’t decided yet.” A silly idea hushed through your head at that, but you dismissed it. A company such as Bucky’s would raise sums only big fish could handle. There wasn’t space for the things you had in mind.

“I hope you’ll do so soon, then.” You nodded thoughtfully and ended with a tight-lipped smile.

Bucky nodded and smiled, then turned around and headed for the door. But before he could open it, he came back again. You looked up to see a black card held before you.

“I’d be happy for suggestions... if you have any in mind.” He shrugged with that cheeky look of his and then left. And you just stood there, dumbfounded, and toying with the ridiculous idea that Bucky Barnes might actually be able to read minds.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Rogers really couldn’t make it?” Tony asked as he leaned back in the leather booth of his very own establishment. He tipped his emptied whiskey glass towards the slender redhead at the bar and smiled as she rushed to get his refill ready.

“He promised Bambi to be home...” Bucky trailed off as he watched a customer hit on the waitress - Tiffany he remembered - A pretty thing, but unfortunately incredibly hollow when it came to conversation... not that Bucky looked for anything like it.

Tony huffed. “That woman has him wrapped around her finger!” He liked Bambi, everyone did, he just missed hanging out with his guys.

“Just wait until you find the one, Tony,” Sam chimed in with a sly smirk on his face - a hopeful, yet cautious hint as Sam secretly loved the idea of all his friends finally finding the one. He was a romantic, Bucky knew it, even if Sam never actually said it.

“Me? I would never give up my glorious bachelor life for one woman. There are way too many things to explore...”

“Mark my words, Stark. We’ll look back to this day and laugh about this incredibly jackassy statement. You, too will be finding the one. I just know it.”

Bucky chuckled and tipped his glass on the Table as the bickering of his friends faded into background noise. For some reason, he didn’t feel like adding to the conversation. He blamed it on the banality of a conversation both he and Tony had long decided on, but perhaps, it was because for once in his life, he considered taking Sam’s side on the topic.

It was ridiculous, really, how fast you’d occupied his mind when it came to Sam’s comment about finding ‘the one’. He didn’t even know you aside from the ‘background check’ he conducted after his visit to your shop. That might have covered your personal details, but he still didn’t know if you were a dog person or preferred cats, or if you were vegan or vegetarian, or if you considered kids in your future.

Bucky cleared his throat and sat up straighter when he felt the fluster creep up his neck. What the hell was happening to him? He wasn’t like this at all. Women occupied his mind for about as long as it took for him to make them come undone in his hands. When he was with them, his full attention was on them - he loved them - but he’d never let them control his life. James “Bucky” Barnes never even considered seeing them twice, let alone thinking about a future with them.

Though, to Bucky’s displeasure - or pleasure (he hadn’t decided yet) - the thought of seeing you again wasn’t uncomfortable to him. On the contrary, he got a weird tingly feeling in his stomach when he remembered the smell of the flowers in your shop and how your delicate fingers carefully picked out the prettiest ones. Bucky sat his drink down with a clink. Maybe he’d had enough alcohol for tonight.

“Barnes, how come you’re not defending me here? Have you grown soft or something? Do you have a girl we don’t know about?” Tony’s nagging broke through to Bucky and the whole bar reached back into his consciousness.

“Sorry, what?” He stuttered, shaking his thought and trying to find a good answer to his friend’s remark. “I was distracted by Betty.” Bucky smiled sheepishly as he received a clap on his shoulder.

“That’s my man.” Tony grinned and Sam huffed into his whiskey. And Bucky? He just sunk into his seat, feeling somehow shameful for the white lie he had made up.

❁ ❁ ❁

The SPS office was impressive. Amongst the old New York brick building surrounding it, it reached up into the sky with its glass front everything. But you wouldn’t be fooled by its fragile looks. This was one of the most secure buildings in the city. You’d read about it in an article some time back - the whole hype about the company was their way of making fragile-looking things indestructible. You couldn’t see through the “windows” from the outside. And you wouldn’t be able to launch a rocket through it either. SPS had patented their stronger-than-steel-glass years ago, making them the leading security company in the world.

To say you had been a little surprised to see the very owner of said company on your side of town would be an understatement. But besides his incredibly adamant way of flirting, he was quite normal to talk to. He’d even asked you for advice on the cause they should donate to this year. And after having thought about it for the better part of what should have been your sleep time, you had decided to just try and pitch your idea.

“Do you have an appointment Ms.?” A stunning redhead peered up at you from her desk, her nails clicked on the keyboard of her computer as she waited for your answer. You didn’t really know why you thought getting to Bucky was going to be easy. The security guard had already eyed you suspiciously at the front desk in the lobby. After you’d smiled at him as charmingly as you could, he’d decided to let you be someone else’s problem today - or maybe he just didn’t see you as a threat - whatever it was, it had gotten you this far. But what were you gonna say now?

Actually, I don’t have an appointment, but Mr Barnes met me yesterday and after thinking about him all night, I decided to pay him a visit today.

Yeah, that wouldn’t cut it. Not in this office. The redhead - N. Romanoff - was what her sign said, made that fairly clear with the way her lips pursed at the opened calendar on the screen.

“You don’t happen to have to discuss something not suited for work with Mr. Barnes, do you? I know he tends to leave some of his meetings... open-ended.”

Your eyes got wide. “God, no. I’m not-“ Your hands made a swishing motion between you two and then you took a breath. “I’m here to discuss business. Purely business. Mr. Barnes has made an order at my shop for the company fundraiser and I just want to discuss some details.”

Her eyes glimmered when her lips pulled into a smile. “Did he now?” She peered over to catch the look of the blonde assistant a few feet next to her and then back to you. “Well if that is the case, please have a seat, I’ll tell him you’re here.” And with that, she got up, winked, and wrapped at the large wooden door presumably leading to Bucky’s office.

She came back a minute later and gestured for you to enter. “Lucky for you, his meeting just got canceled, so you should have enough time.”

“Thank you.” And then Ms. Romanoff went back to her desk and started whispering to the blonde assistant.

Bucky sat behind his desk, a sleek glass surface lightly cluttered with papers. Other than that, the room felt cool, the large rug by the seating area did little to cover the marbled floors. You stepped inside just as Bucky called out your name. You almost didn't see the wide smile on his face as the rising sun hung low on the horizon behind him, casting a halo-like glow around his silhouette. What a freaking entrance. Though Bucky surely couldn’t control the sun, you thought with a small smile, you really had to stop imagining this man was extraordinary.

“You’re here.” He got up and walked towards you, his sleek back shoes echoing on the ground. And then he was next to you, leading you to the seat in front of his desk with his hand on the small of your back. “What brings me the honor of your visit, darling.”

He leaned on his desk with his arms crossed, a pleasant smile on his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice that you came by, but you do have my number, don’t you?”

“I do.” You cleared your throat, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I was hoping you had some time to spare, actually. I find the phone to be a little... impersonal.”

Bucky’s eyes shined with intrigue as he leaned forward, pinning you to the chair with his gaze. He licked his lips. “Show me what exactly?”

“You’ll see.” You smirked. “I happen to know that your next meeting just got canceled.”

Bucky got even closer, his breath hitting your neck with every word he spoke. “And I’ll gladly cancel the rest, too.” A shiver shot over your arms, his cologne seemingly intoxicating you. But before you could respond, he backed up, grabbing his coat and gesturing towards the door. “Lead the way.”

And so you did.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky was suspicious when you pulled him into the subway, but he decided against saying something. He had told you he trusted you after all, and though Bucky considered himself a lot of things, a flake was not one of them. So he let it happen.

It wasn’t half bad, either. Somewhere between his office door and the train, you had taken his hand in yours to pull him along faster. Bucky had noticed his lips spreading into a smile. It didn't last long, unfortunately. Because as he had made eye contact with an elderly lady who had then proceeded to tell you what a beautiful couple you were, you had pulled your hand away with an awkward laugh.

‘Oh, God, no, we’re not together, ma’am.’

Admittedly, Bucky felt a little sting in his chest ever since. In fact, he was rubbing his hand over his shirt at this very moment. You were walking along a street in Brooklyn, not too far from your shop. The neighborhood was a little more run-down than he was used to, certainly nothing like the part of town he lived in. But he kept quiet still. Maybe he was a little butthurt from your earlier aversion about the couple comment, but to be fair, Bucky wasn’t used to women denying him - except Nat.

You suddenly stopped, making Bucky almost run into you and then stare at you in question. But when you gestured towards the sign above the two-story building, his gaze softened.

There, above the blue-painted metal doors, hung a faded sign. Bucky could make out the orange and yellow stripes on the board, a big Sunflower painted in the middle of it all. ‘Sunflower -Shelter & Food’.

“Hey, are you coming or are you glued to the ground?” Your voice rang from the entrance, he hadn’t even noticed that you already moved inside.

Bucky gulped when his eyes swayed back to you and then down his own body. If he was going to step in there in the outfit he was currently wearing, he would look like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“I can’t go in there.”

“Why not?”

He just gestured towards his clothes, his Rolex glinting in the sunlight for good measure. But there was no reaction from you. You stood in the doorway, pursing your lips seemingly in thought, and then shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “I guess you’ll just have to deal with it then.”

“What?” He called your name. But when he realized you weren’t joking, he caught up to you as fast as possible. Because the only thing worse than showing up there looking like he did was doing it alone, he decided swiftly.

“‘Think now might be a good time to mention that this is not a very good place for a date,” Bucky mumbled next to you before closing his coat, trying to hide the even more expensive suit beneath.

“How would you know?” You turned to him. “This isn’t a date, is it?”

Bucky just smirked and then he watched you greet a young boy with a warm hug, and man he imagined what it would be like to have you hug him like that.

“Peter this is Bucky, Bucky, Peter.” You pulled him towards you by his hand again. “I brought him along to help today, thought we always need an extra pair of hands around here.”

“Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Peter reached his hand out, slightly frowning when he took in his appearance but did not say anything. “Any help is always welcome here. Come, I’ll show you what we’re doing today.”

Within ten minutes, Bucky had an apron and gloves on and was ordered to cut the biggest stack of potatoes he’d ever seen. You were happily chatting away with the other helpers and Bucky, for the first time in a long time, felt ...normal.

Nobody was recognizing him in the crowd, there was no talk about business and investments, and there were no fucking cameras. Here, people recognized him for what he came to do, help. And it felt weird. Bucky wasn’t quiet about his lavish lifestyle around his crowds. He knew the privilege he had, and he had worked for it enough to be proud of it. But it was like he had entered a different universe in this part of town. All the things he deemed normal, were things so far from imagination here, they were left out of conversations entirely. So, he tried to remember this whenever he was offered a conversation.

“You do this every day?” He asked into the kitchen while struggling to peel his 5th potato.

“Whenever we can.” An older woman answered with a smile. She was the one who had shown him how to use the peeler faster. “They are people just like you and me. They have to eat every day, too, Bucky.”

Bucky just nodded in silence at the humbling answer, his cheeks felt hot with embarrassment at how naive he had been.

Two hours later, he was standing by your side at the serving station, plating mashed potatoes and the accommodating ‘you’re welcome’ every once in a while. He rarely was out of his comfort zone, like today. But he also knew that, whenever he felt unsure, he’d look at you and you’d gift him an encouraging gesture that kept him going a little while longer.

After everyone had their food, you gave Bucky a tour of the premises.

There was a small courtyard, a couple rooms with telephones and a computer, some sofas and pillows. Nothing fancy but functional nonetheless. You led him through every room, explaining curtly what it was for and then you led him up the stairs.

On your way up, you passed Peter, who was helping a child find its toy and Bucky felt a lump form in his throat at all the new impressions he was fed today.

He cleared his throat. “Peter... is he?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. His parents died when he was quite young. Lucky for him, though, he has always been a bright kid. He got a scholarship for every school he ever went to. But he spends most of his free time here. He has this urge to help wherever he can. Took me a couple months to keep him from skipping his lectures.” You chuckled and led him through the next door.

Bucky nodded with adoration. Not many people dedicated their time to something that would not benefit them directly. And while Bucky knew what a dedicated mind was capable of, he had to admit that his efforts were always motivated by personal gain.

“He’s very admirable for that.”

You just hummed in response. “I don’t think he chose it himself. Not that I think he wouldn’t. But this shelter belonged to his uncle and aunt. They died when he was in high school. He’s working hard to keep this place alive. As do we all.”

The next room you entered was resembling a classroom. “What happens here?”

“Most of the children are registered for the public school of this district. But they don’t always make it there. This room gives them the opportunity to catch up on missed work. We also have adult classes here, preparing for job interviews and such.”

The next hallway presented doors, all leading to bedrooms, as you explained to Bucky when you walked through the corridor. The last door was larger than the others - a double swing leading to a big sanitary area. Showers, toilets, and sinks lined the walls - all run down but functional.

“This place could use some serious renovating,” Bucky mumbled, but he was sure you had heard him. Because you looked up at him now, a sad smile decorating your beautiful face.

“We try to make it as clean and cozy as possible here, but we just don’t have the necessary financial means for it. It works for now. The people coming here need very little. But it’s only a matter of time until the roof needs redoing or the pipes or the windows, or the-“

“Yeah...” Bucky trailed off, making you stop and giving him a break to breathe. He usually wasn’t surrounded by people unable to get out of unfortunate situations. The clients he spent his time with ordered his services to protect the material things they’d bought for status and fun. It was something entirely different when you were robbed of your place to sleep.

“Well, this completes my humble tour.” You clasped your hands together and proceeded to look at your watch. “I think it’s time to go home.”

You descended the stairs in silence, Peter hugged Bucky goodbye and when he stepped foot back on the sidewalk, Bucky turned around to the sign once more. You stood beneath it, leaning against the doorframe and smiling at him. It was dark out now.

“Are you not coming?” He asked watching as you shook your head.

“Peter has an exam tomorrow. I offered to stay the night.”

“Here? Alone?”

“Yes.”

Bucky stepped towards you again. “Then I’m go-“

“Stop.” Your hand reached for his shoulder, the touch sending him straight back to a haze. “Don’t do this. I know how you feel. There’s this sadness inside you now. You saw this for the first time. It feels awful - I know.” You retracted your hand and pushed yourself off the doorframe. “But until you don’t see anything other than pity for these people, you can’t be here without breaking.”

“Doll...”

“Bucky, I'm serious. Go home. Sleep on it. Try to understand the situation.”

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this helpless. He just stared at you, unable to move or say anything. He didn’t like the idea of you staying here alone at night. And though the feeling of caring for someone he’d only known for two days so much scared him, he pushed it aside.

You leaned forward and hugged him goodbye and then the cold night surrounded him again. “Thank you for trusting me today.” And then you turned around and left him standing outside alone.

❁ ❁ ❁

Your purple-inked pen marked the date in your calendar.

“That’s an unusually big order, Steve...” You looked up at the blonde frequenting your shop every so often. He’d always get the pink carnations for his girlfriend. Apparently, she loved them after you bound them in the first bouquet you ever sold to Steve. He was a simple man, you could tell, so his usual orders were just as such. But not today. “Are you planning anything special?”

The handsome customer blushed with an innocent smile. “Actually...” He scratched the back of his neck. “I’m planning to propose.” He looked so sheepish when you clasped your hands in excitement.

“Oh, that’s amazing. Congratulations!”

“Well not yet.” He cleared his throat, visibly trying to compose himself. But this giant pretty man in front of you was adorably nervous.

“I just know she’ll say yes,” you mused and made a note to reserve some more carnations for his order - a couple simple arrangements that held so much meaning.

“How do you know?”

You watched Steve peer over to you with hopeful eyes. “It’s not every day a man puts so much effort and thought into what bouquet to get his girlfriend on a casual Monday evening each week.” You winked and Steve nodded lost in thought.

“To be honest, I haven’t even thought about her saying no. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“You shouldn’t worry too much. You are a good man, everyone can see that. And just to be sure, I’ll make the most perfect flowers ever. Paired with your charming ways, there will be no other option but to say yes.”

He relaxed a little. “Great. Thank you.” And then he turned to leave your shop.

“I’ll have them ready by Friday.” You smiled.

“Thank you... so much.” Steve smiled and you knew there was so much more hidden in his gesture.

❁ ❁ ❁

It had become a habit that Bucky visited the shelter with you once a week. Admittedly, you were surprised he even cared enough to free his schedule so religiously. But as of the past four weeks, he had shown up at your shop, walked with you to Sunflower shelters, mingled with the people, and then even walked you home.

It was actually kind of refreshing, seeing him so invested and kind of protective. There weren’t many guys in the city that cared enough to get you home safely. Peter offered more times than often, but you rather knew him safe at the shelter than try to fight a gangster double his size out of the kindness of his heart and the deep wish to somehow become a superhero one day.

So Bucky had to do it for now. Not that you were complaining. He was handsome and charming and interesting to converse with given the vastly different lives you lived. But he tried to adapt. Ever since the incident on the first day, he had even tried to wear less wealth-telling clothing, though he seemed to not always hit the mark just right.

In a way, bucky was a little fashion icon. You’d noticed it in his colorful waistcoats, the intricate details on his shoes, or the fancy cufflinks adorning his oxford-cotton shirts. He tried to dress down. But to your surprise, the color remained. Instead of waistcoats and dress shirts, he wore regular t-shirts. His confidence never wavered.

A little smile hushed across your face every time you looked at him. The pink shirt he wore combined with the green apron he had been given, made him look like a lollipop. A Beautiful one, that was. With a dashing smile and an adorable frown as he tried to separate the peas from the pod.

“So... how is the gala coming along?” You teased him a little having noticed how unusual this task was for him. Throughout your few meetings, you had gotten to know Bucky quite well. And apart from his statement the very day he stepped foot into your shop, he revealed to you more and more how difficult the project was for him.

“Let’s just say I’m glad I can count on the flower arrangements,” he grumbles as a pea slipped from his fingers and across the table.

“That bad, huh?”

His hands stopped working. “The Band canceled on me again and I seem to run after every other arrangement I have made so far. If I had known how much work-“ he huffed and then shook his head with an even deeper frown.

“Hey, it’s okay to not be good at everything.” You encouraged him, your elbow nudging his side as you smiled lightly. “There has got to be something humbling you. Makes you seem more human.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I meant to ask you...” You picked up your task to avoid his eyes that were suddenly on you again. “How come you’re the one organizing the gala?”

Bucky chuckled, his head shaking for what seemed like the hundredth time today. “I made a deal with my assistant.”

“What was in it for you?” You threw a couple peas in the strainer and Bucky did the same.

He shrugged. “I got to hand off some paperwork.”

Wow. “Seriously? A bit of paperwork seems like a poor trade for months of organizing something so important.”

Bucky laughed, the sound warming your stomach from the inside out and finally making you look at him again. It was little moments like this in which he felt so careless and relaxed. You liked to believe the shelter did it to him, or maybe even you. But primarily, you were glad he laid off his work self just then. “Yeah it might have not been my smartest move... but I don’t mind it really.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes locked and you suddenly became very aware of how close the two of you were standing.

“If it weren’t for the deal, I would have never met you.” There was something so honest and pure about the way he had stated this so plainly. And for a moment, you liked to forget that he might have just meant your suggestion to donate to Sunflower. That maybe, the funny fluttery feeling in your stomach wasn’t one-sided, and that you too meant something greater to him than the coincidences that led him into your shop that day.

A wide smile spread on Bucky’s face and then he winked. He freaking winked at you. And while you turned back to your peas, desperate to hide the fluster on your face, you had to remind yourself that this was Bucky fucking Barnes and that he knew what he was doing.

About two hours later, you sat amongst the people currently living at the shelter, sharing the meal you had prepared for them with the hopes of getting them through another day. You and Bucky were sitting with Gabe Jones, a veteran whose post-traumatic stress disorder had cost him everything after the Vietnam War. He was always telling stories of his time on the front - a way to cope with his horrible past. By now, you and Peter had probably heard every single one of his stories twice. But Bucky was on the edge of his seat. Listening with intrigue as the food on his plate remained untouched.

“It was ’68 when I was sent out. There were soldiers who done already survived a year or so at the front. And, son, I am sayin’ survived ‘cause you couldn’t call that livin’.” Gabe shook his head before pointing his fork to his shoulder. “Caught a grenade in ’69 and on our way to camp, they shot at the helicopter. Lost my right arm and comrade that day. The damn arm’s gone but I’m gon’ have the memory forever.”

The words didn’t seem to affect the veteran anymore, but they never failed to leave their recipients shocked and wondering. It was always the same question: How can someone fight for a country, leave their life for a country, and end up here?

And honestly? You didn’t know.

“I’m so sorry, sir.” Bucky swallowed as his eyes fled over to yours. “Thank you for your service.”

“Notin’ to be sorry ‘bout.” Gabe waved his hand and then pointed at Bucky’s plate. “You eatin’ that?”

Bucky just shook his head and pushed his plate towards Gabe, a somber state overtaking his body. You did feel a little bad. But you also knew that Gabe wasn’t affected by sympathies and that he was happy at Sunflower - though he preferred the street over the beds here. While he had spent just another day existing, he had simultaneously opened Bucky’s eyes to the severity of making stories like his more known.

By now you were pretty confident, Bucky would choose the homeless as recipients for his company’s fundraiser sum. But he surprised you by getting involved with the people here over and over again, willing to learn and to understand.

The walk to your apartment building that evening was awfully quiet. Bucky had insisted he walk on the street side of the sidewalk, buried his hands in his coat pockets, and shut up ever since.

You knew he was contemplating, letting the day play on repeat in his mind. He probably had a lot of questions, a lot of frustration, and worry. Nothing unfamiliar to you, but something you’d learned to deal with ever since helping out at Sunflower.

“Don’t feel bad,” you said when you stopped in front of the familiar brick building you called home.

“How?”

“Feeling bad isn’t helping them. You have the power to change things.” It was an awfully dry response, but the truth hurt sometimes.

Bucky just looked at you through hooded eyes, a knowing nod shaking his features as he watched slowly take a step back toward your front door.

“Thank you,” he suddenly released - steady and calm. “For taking me. For helping me see...”

You couldn’t help yourself. The confession overwhelmed you. Knowing you had succeeded in showing him what was so important to you overwhelmed you. You leaped forward and slung your arms around him, pressing tightly into his chest.

Bucky’s arms found their way around you in an instant, the hug conveying so much more than just a goodbye. It was a ‘thank you’ a ‘this means the world to me’.

After about a minute, you leaned up to him and placed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m also glad you took the deal, Bucky.” You whispered into his ear, feeling the smile on his face on your cheek.

When he finally released you, it seemed like the spell was gone. Bucky was back to burying his hands in his pockets, only the faint remnants of a smile hinting towards your earlier interaction. You hadn’t realized how much this would affect him. You had forgotten how long you fought with yourself until you could act normal around the people at Sunflower yourself.

“Do you want to come up?” You threw your thumb over your shoulder at the entrance of the building with a lopsided smile. “Don’t want that cheap bottle of merlot to go bad.”

Bucky’s eyes brightened underneath the street lights and the wide boyish grin returned to his face. “We can’t have that, can we?”

❁ ❁ ❁

To say Bucky’s heart had skipped a beat at your invitation would have been an understatement. It did somersaults and ended with an impressive backflip. He’d not expected a move from your side. Especially, since the last time he had picked you up, the universe had flipped him the bird by sending two of his former one-night-stands your way. He had been able to shake them off before they were able to yell at him or reveal more of what their connection to him was. But that marked the first time he was a little embarrassed by his late endeavors. You had acted like nothing happened, but since that night, Bucky hadn’t stopped wondering what you thought of him.

You lead him up the narrow staircase to a red wooden door, the color chipping by the floor as an indicator of having to kick it to open sometimes. Beyond the door, it was cozy and warm. Every corner of your place had a memory placed in it - a self-made quilt or a photograph. When you walked through it, Bucky could feel the love and time this place had seen.

It was nothing like his own apartment: a penthouse standing high above the city, with sleek black surfaces and cold marble wherever you reached. Here, he felt the need to take his shoes off, to feel the fuzzy carpets on the scratched-up wooden floors. Your place wasn’t sterile like his, it felt... like a good hug.

Bucky snorted as the result of a breath he released. Never before had he cared about what his place lacked. It was expensive and pristine, clean and big. And even though your apartment was about the size of his living room, it had so much more to offer.

“The living room is right through there, you can choose a movie if you like.” Your voice called out from somewhere Bucky assumed to be the kitchen as he kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable on the rust-colored sofa that had more pillows than necessary. It was super comfortable, though. And the lack of space due to the pillows forced you to sit a little closer to him, so he wasn’t complaining.

“Your place is... cute.” He stated as you handed him a glass of wine and laughed.

“It’s a shoebox but I do love it very much. Probably nothing compared to what you’re used to.”

Bucky shook his head and took a sip. The wine did taste cheap, but he did not care. “Bigger isn’t always better.” His arm was spread on the backrest but your whole body was turned to him. “It has a lot of character.”

“Oh god, please stop, you’re just making it sound worse.” Your hand came up to hide your face but your smile peeked through the gesture.

Bucky laughed. “I didn’t mean it condescendingly. I really do like it. Reminds me of my childhood home.”

“Are you close with your family?” Bucky was surprised by the question. Maybe it was because his friends never talked about his family, or because the peers he hung out with tended to discuss business rather than sentimental. But he realized that nobody had asked him about it for a long time.

And so he began talking. Bucky talked about his parents and how both of them died early in his life. He told you how close he was with his sister until she got adopted into another family. He spoke about his childhood with Steve and how they’d met Sam and Tony in college, about the night they had the idea for Shield Protective Services, and finally the day he was told his sister had passed away.

Throughout his story, you had leaned into him closer, hanging onto his every word until your hand had to support your body on his thigh and Bucky suddenly stopped talking.

Your glasses were emptied, the bottle as well, and Bucky gulped when he felt the heat from your hand travel throughout his entire body.

“So... that’s my story.” He had to clear his throat to gain his usual timber back, his hands becoming sweaty when you blinked next to him. “What about you, dove?”

“Dove?” You smiled, yet intrigued by the name that had slipped past his lips in the trance of the moment. He’d only ever called you that in his thoughts. Attributed the nickname to you the second he realized it was the most fitting one of them all.

“You don’t like it?” He asked, his arm slipping towards your shoulder ever so slightly.

“I like it.” You smiled. “I just want to know... why this one?”

A hush of giddiness crawled up his throat when he thought about his answer. It was the way you had welcomed him so easily into this world of yours. How you were willing to show him the things precious to you. That you trusted him with this very opportunity to help. Every day he spent with you he felt it, found that between coding his new security program and meeting with Hydra enterprises, its somber reality sent him into a feeling of breathing fresh air. You created a button that turned off the noise in his head. “Because you bring me peace.”

Your eyes stared at him in wonder when he tilted your chin with his thumb and index finger. There was appreciation and happiness, he could see it, feel it.

Bucky was entranced by your stare when your voice whispered a response to him: “That’s the sweetest thing I’ve ever been told.”

You leaned forward and Bucky’s heart threatened to jump out of his chest, and then your face fell into his chest, your arms encasing him in the warmest hug he’d ever received. He willed his pulse to slow and wrapped his arms around you tightly. A little humbled and a little confused, but appreciative of the situation nonetheless.

You stayed like this when you chose a movie to watch. Even after an hour, Bucky’s grip didn’t loosen. He peered down at you on his chest and watched as you fell asleep. And when he was sure you were far away in your slumber, he pressed a warm kiss to your head, lingering in the scent of your shampoo.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky stared at his computer screen as the pen in his hand clicked on his glass desk in perfect rhythm. The Shelter website displayed on the surface, portraying a brighter version of the sign you had dragged him to that very first day.

But it wasn’t the heartfelt story behind the building or the way his pen clicked slightly more hollow every other tap because he turned it too much that had him zoned out at work. It was - as unbelievable as it sounded - a woman. Not just any, no. You.

“Hey, I need a signature from you for this design draft.” Steve dropped his notepad on the desk, then rounded it and settled behind Bucky who had yet to recognize his presence.

“This your charity suggestion?” He questioned with his hands on his friend’s office chair.

Bucky nodded absentmindedly. Perhaps it was because he had decided to support your suggestion the second you had taken his hand on his way to the subway. Or maybe he was just letting his mind roam freely again. Mainly because it was a safe bet to call you into memory and he liked the feeling it provided.

A pale hand waved in front of his face. “Earth to Bucky.” Steve snapped his fingers, making the brunette jump. “You seem oddly distracted.”

He had been thinking about you. Of course, he had. There seemed to be nothing else he could do lately. Every time Bucky read through his reports, he imagined what your voice would sound like reading them to him. Whenever he went down to IT, he envisioned the room decorated with your flowers and how much happier they would make the place. When he sat in a meeting with HR and watched their burnt-out faces stare back at him through their coffee haze, he wondered if you could make them as lively as you made him.

Bucky could - so he realized after weeks of denial - not escape you.

That was one thing. But the more chilling revelation was that he did not mind. He enjoyed the little admonitions his mind set out in his environment. He appreciated the quickening thumb in his chest, whenever he saw his calendar entries stating another meeting with you - so much so that he almost forgot how unusual it was for him.

It was crazy. A month ago, if someone had dared to tell him he’d be finding something more than his regular flings, he would have laughed in their face. In fact, he actually did a few days before he met you.

Bucky didn’t know what kind of magical spell you’d put on him, but within a few weeks, he’d started to become a different man. A better version of his thought-to-be-marvelous self. Now he realized what he was missing: a counterpart, someone who made life seem dull without them by his side. He wasn’t going to admit it to Sam or Steve immediately, but the idea of you being that very someone became more attractive each day.

“Just a lot to do with the gala and all...” Bucky trailed off and spun around to Steve.

“You know, I never took you for an event manager...” The blonde grinned and his eyes lit up in the office light. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I like seeing you try something new, but this feels very... out of place.”

“But you also know I never back down from a challenge. And I’ll be damned if Nat has something to hold against me for life.”

Steve’s head tipped forward. “We both know that woman has blackmail material for two lifetimes on us.

“She really does.” Bucky sighed and then slumped back in his chair, the little issue he had been hiding from his best friend gnawing on his mind.

He thought about Steve and Bambi and how he had just asked her to marry him. She’d said yes, of course, nobody expected otherwise. Steve - of all people - was living a magical fairytale life with the woman of his dreams. And here Bucky was, thinking he had figured it all out with women and relationships - or rather that he never wanted one - yet he found himself wondering why that decision bugged him so much when you came into the picture.

“Can I ask you something?” Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, not believing he was really going to ask Steve for dating advice.

“Always.”

“How did you know that Bambi was the one?” A stupid question, really. Bucky already knew there was nobody like you. But it was best to start this conversation off lightly.

Steve smiled widely again, his cheeks tinted pink. “Well, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And not in an I haven’t touched a woman in years kind of way... I couldn’t stop. Every second of every day, I imagined her with me. The thought of her made me happier even before she knew how I felt about her. And, well, it also hurt like hell when I thought she didn’t return my feelings... when she refused to talk to me for a day...” He cleared his throat and then eyed Bucky again. “Why do you want to know?”

“Nothing in particular. I was just wondering and I needed material for my best man speech.” But the blonde didn’t buy it. He caught Bucky’s chair when he attempted to turn away, pulling him right back in front of him. “Are you dating someone? Is it that woman from the flower shop?”

How did he know about you? “No??” Bucky squinted at Steve.

“You know if you wanted advice, I do consider myself an expert to some extent now.” Bucky wanted to wipe the smug grin right off his friend’s face.

“You’re an idiot.” He stood up and paced to the window.

“Oh come on, Buck.” Steve followed suit, the playful grin ever present. “You teased me for years about my love life, can’t be mad now.”

“I’m not mad.” He was annoyed.

They stood by the glass front for a while, watching the busy city unfold beneath them in the glow of the rising sun. Bucky could feel his friend’s eyes stare at him though. And after another moment of silence, the blonde finally spoke. “You should ask her out.”

“What?” He faced him again.

“You like her. I can tell. And you’ve never acted like this about a woman, let alone put so much effort into a relationship. I know it’s not your style, but I think it would do you good to at least try.”

“The effort is for the gala.” Bucky corrected.

“Right. Because that’s your thing... charity galas.” Steve squeezed Bucky’s shoulder and then tapped it and then he made his way to the door. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I really wish you would listen to your heart and not be a stubborn dickhead for once. This could be something life-changing - something great. And it’s your choice whether you welcome it or not.”

Life changing. Bucky didn’t like the sound of that. He liked to be in control of the situation and rule over his own life. However that aspect seemed to have left the building when you entered.

He huffed. There you were back on his mind again, and he felt the tingle creep up his throat. There was no denying it. What Steve had described with Bambi was what Bucky had with you.

With a shake of his head, he grabbed his coat, told Nat he’d be back in an hour, and then pressed the button for the elevator. He would deny it if Steve ever dared to take pride in convincing him to do so, but he’d also be damned if he didn’t at least try to find out if you felt the same.

❁ ❁ ❁

There was a burly-looking stranger standing at the counter when Bucky entered your shop. He had willed the traitorous voice in his head to silence all the way here. But now that he saw the handsome older man taking all your attention to the point you hadn’t even noticed him stepping in over the customer's broad shoulders, the heat began to bubble up again.

Bucky wanted to tell himself you wouldn’t prefer the salt-and-pepper-bearded man over him. But to be honest, he didn’t even know what your type was. Yes, you had cuddled on your sofa just the other night, but since Bucky wouldn’t consider himself an expert in anything other than one-night stands, it could have been a friendly gesture for all he knew.

“Would that be all for you?” You asked the man and handed him his chance. Bucky watched as his thumb grazed over your hand, feeling a tinge of anger starting to consume him.

“That’s all. Thank you, sweetheart.”

“I hope to see you again soon, sir.”

“Oh, you can bet on it.” He winked then turned, nodded to Bucky in a brief greeting, and then exited the shop. Bucky’s eyes lingered on the door for a while longer. He took deep breaths as his jaw clenched and the bell above the entrance fell silent.

“Hey.” A warm hand touched his arm, pulling him right back to your eyes. And just like that, the anger washed away a little. There were just you and him in your tiny oasis amid Brooklyn. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” He forced a smile, but the frown on his face probably betrayed him. “Just thought that man was a little inappropriate.”

“He’s just a sweet man buying flowers for his wife.” Your eyes glimmered with mischief when you bit your lip. “Bucky... are you jealous?”

Oh, hell no.

“Jealous?” Bucky wasn’t jealous. He couldn’t be. There was nothing to be jealous of. He had no claim to you. Even if he really wished he did. And yet that man had angered him with only the touch of his hand. That was the only thing he’d ever get. Bucky knew what it felt like to have you in his arms, how your body lotion settled in his nose, how your head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. “No.”

“But you should not be so naïve, dove. Married men are also flirting... and cheating.”

A short laugh escaped your throat before you caught yourself again and Bucky’s heart began doing that funny somersault thing. “Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I do know how the real world works.” You crossed your arms before your chest. “Besides, what do you care if he did ask me out? Maybe it has been a lifelong dream of mine to be a mistress.”

“It’s not. And I don’t. I just think you deserve someone better than a cheater.”

“Oh, like who? The percentage of good guys in this city is disappointingly low.”

Bucky snorted, guided by the excitement in his chest he opened his arms. “Please, I could name at least five guys off the top of my head who are better than whatever that was.” His left hand flailed in the direction of the door, referring to the previous customer.

“Name one.”

“Me.”

The surprise sprung onto your features faster than Bucky realized what he had said. “What?”

Well, this was certainly not the way he had planned to ask you out today. Damn jealousy. The only way for this to not be embarrassing was to own up to it now. It was what he had come here for after all, right?

Bucky looked directly into your eyes, his expression sincere and determined. "Yes, me. I may not have everything figured out, but I do know one thing: I care about you. I've seen the way you light up a room, the kindness you show to everyone around you. You deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates it.”

Your eyes softened when you shook your head, averting your gaze to the ground. “I don’t know, Bucky.”

He bit the insides of his cheeks, instantly hoping you’d say something else. Anything that would show him there was a chance you would change your mind. The silence was all-consuming, but he kept his mouth shut, careful not to fuck it up once again.

“Bucky, I appreciate your honesty, I really do. But I don't think it's a good idea.”

Bucky's brows furrowed, his confidence wavering as your soft refusal hit him. "What do you mean, you don't know?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of frustration. He struggled to keep his composure, the unfamiliar feeling of rejection gnawing at him. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he searched for the right thing to say. His jaw tensed, betraying the hurt he felt deep down. "Forget it," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. With a curt nod, he turned on his heel, his disappointment palpable in the air as he made his exit, leaving you to contemplate his unexpected confession.

❁ ❁ ❁

“Why, don’t you just look precious!” You bent down and picked up Sam’s daughter, Darla, who had eagerly stormed through the door as soon as he’d opened it because she wasn’t quite tall enough to reach the handle yet.

“You... I’ve missed you soooo much.” You nuzzled her into your chest and pretended to squeeze real tight.

“Come play dragons with me!” The little one squirmed and then hopped off in her tiny knight costume.

“Nothing I would rather do,” you singsonged and then mouthed a ‘she’s grown so much’ to Sam before he closed the door with a shake of his head.

“I know... she just does it without my permission. Unbelievable.”

About ten minutes later, you sat on the living room floor with a bunch of stuffed dragons, you had been instructed to play. Sam’s daughter was happily fighting the stuffies with her wooden sword and his husband handed you a cup of coffee with a smile.

“So how have things been?” Matt sat down on the sofa and Sam instantly wrapped his arm around him. Your eyes lingered on the interaction for a second before your gaze wandered back to Darla.

“Oh, you know, business as usual. The shop is doing very well... the shelters are holding up.” You smiled at her and then made a dragon fall backward in defeat.

“Hm...” He frowned. “That’s weird... I had a feeling it was getting better soon.”

You smiled tight-lipped and wondered if you had butchered it all with your stubbornness. Matt wasn’t clairvoyant or anything crazy like it. But the joke of his other senses being heightened due to his impaired vision had carried on forever. And even though you never believed in supernatural magical things, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, there was a hunch of truth to it nonetheless. He had been right about many other things after all.

“I don’t know,” you sighed and Darla excused herself to her room to ‘get more toys’. “Except for the shop, everything else seems to go a little downhill right now.”

“But you have been seeing someone, no?” Matt tilted his head and Sam squeezed his shoulder in an attempt to make him stop.

“Babe, do we need to talk about appropriate prying again?”

“Sorry,” Matt blushed, “Occupational hazard.”

You laughed and then turned serious again. “I have... but to be honest, I doubt it will have a future. It’s - I don’t know - it just seems a little too good to be true.”

“It’s been Bucky you’ve been seeing, hasn’t it?” Sam chimed in with a calm deep voice, making your attention snap to him. Your heart began to race at the mention of Bucky’s name.

“How did you know?”

His fingers lifted in air quotes “A gorgeous girl with a flower shop in Brooklyn that somehow tries to convince him to donate to Sunflower shelters? You did not make it hard, honey.”

“He... he talks to you about me?” Well, that changes things, you thought as you watched Sam reassure you with a small smile.

"More like a little birdy told me...." Sam shrugged. “What happened?” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes holding concern.

“Isn’t it obvious? I don’t want to be one of his many trophies. And I’m scared, I just made the chase attractive by not putting out immediately.” Your eyes turned glassy. “What if he will lose interest when I do.” Your voice broke, making you almost whisper the last part into the living room. “Because I really really want to...”

Matt cleared his throat. “If it helps anything... I have a feeling you are not going to be just another one-night stand.”

“And why is that?”

“I’ve never seen him like this.” Sam chimed in. “So butthurt about a girl or even put effort in a relationship that would only become a one night stand - which it is not - he wants more, he needs more. He sees a future with you. And as much as his bad-boy demeanor has made that pretty unbelievable in the past, he is changing. I just know, and it’s about time that he aims for peace and quiet and love and comfort.”

Turning your head with a suspicious grin, you answered: “Is Matt contagious? Because that sounded one hell of a lot like a prediction to me.”

Sam just shook his head with a smile, scooted forward on the sofa, and then took your hands in his. “Believe me when I say this: You are so amazing. And not even a douchebag like Bucky could deny it. Yes, he has had his fair share of women in the past, and he can be the most stubborn dickhead in all of New York City, but he’s not stupid. He knows something valuable when he sees it. And you, love, have given him the most precious thing he’s ever had.”

You held eye contact for a short moment, letting your friend’s words sink in and warm you from the inside until the butterflies in your stomach began to tingle. As much as you wanted to refuse, you had shown him love and acceptance every step of the way. And Bucky? Bucky had tried so hard to impress you. He had done so many things just for you, to spend time with you.

You just wrote it off as a means to get you to sleep with him. But at this point, that argument was farfetched. Because throughout the time you spent together, his presence was pleasant, casual, and... wanted.

“So what do I do now?” You said with determination, making a smile spark on both Sam’s and Matt’s faces.

❁ ❁ ❁

“So, Barnes is unusually grumpy tonight.” Bucky heard Tony say when he came back from the bathroom, jamming his glas on the table to announce he was listening. “Did you get cockblocked or what?”

“Shut it, Stark, or I’ll personally demonstrate your very own cockblock.” Bucky pressed through his teeth.

“Damn, Buck. What the hell could possibly throw you off this much?” Tony signaled for two more drinks to the bar as Bucky took a seat again.

Sam looked at him with a raised brow - the fucker knew what was going on. But Bucky refused to get dragged into talking about his feelings.

“I thought it was going good?” Steve chimed in, a question in his features. Steve, you punk. Shut up!

Bucky knew he was referring to the bouquets of flowers that subtly decorated the office now. First his own desk, then the kitchen. And when Nat had grown suspicious, he proceeded to place them on her desk to have her stop asking questions.

It wasn’t his doing - not this time. You had just given him a bouquet of the flowers you couldn’t sell anymore every time you met. And Bucky couldn’t bring himself to throw them out. They also reminded him of you and were a nice little distraction from work. ...Not that it mattered anymore.

“Going good? What is going on? What are you talking about, Rogers?”

“Bucky met a- ouch goddamnit!” A kick was heard from beneath the table. And when Steve’s eyes snapped over to Sam, the man just tipped his head with a warning stare. “What the hell, man?”

“Okay, that’s it. I feel like you guys don’t tell me anything. I need details. Now.”

“No.”

Bucky didn’t need Tony to know. In fact, Bucky didn’t need anyone to know he had trouble talking to a woman. He, of all people, who never had any difficulties getting even the married ones - yeah he wasn’t too proud of that... But Tony would just make everything worse. And with his patience hanging by a thread right about now, he was not willing to play with fire.

“Buck, we- they’re your friends. They deserve to know, especially if things are as serious as you told me.” Bucky just stared at Steve in silence, his gaze trained on the crystal class in front of him with the amber liquid untouched. Steve always had a need to calm the storm. And maybe, Bucky would let him do it this time.

Truthfully, Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you anymore. His friends would sooner or later hear about you - if he had not fucked it up entirely. So, it was better to rip the band-aid off now than peel it back painfully slow in the future.

He crossed his arms and exchanged a brief glance with the blonde, and Steve understood that he was allowed to proceed.

“Bucky met someone. He’s organizing the charity gala this year and she’s the florist doing the flower arrangements.” He had never noticed it before, but ever since Bambi had entered Steve’s life, his best friend’s fable for romance became more and more apparent to Bucky.

“She’s also helped him find a cause to donate to. She’s been taking him to the Shelter she has worked at for years,” Sam chimed in and Bucky didn’t even question where he got his information from anymore. Steve and he had always been close, and though Bucky didn’t believe Steve would tell Sam his most private conversations, Sam always had a way of finding out.

“Event planning? Florist? Who are you and what have you done to Bucky?” Tony looked seriously stunned, But Bucky didn’t expect anything less than incomprehension. He had always been the only one in the group Tony could relate to and talk to when it came to women and lifestyles. Now, that very thing was slipping away.

Bucky just shrugged, uncertain how to answer. It was true: He had changed quite a bit ever since meeting you. But they weren't bad changes. He actually liked them.

Steve cleared his throat. “I thought things were going great, just the other day he talked about asking her out. And there were all these flowers in the office, I just assumed...”

“Yeah well, they weren’t.” Bucky interrupted as he felt the frustration creep back up. There were so many new feelings mixing within him that he didn’t know what to do with them.

“Well it’s good to have you back, I guess. Can’t imagine how that would’ve turned out.” Tony’s hand landed on Bucky’s shoulder, who immediately brushed it off.

“What do you mean ‘turned out’?”

His head swayed from left to right and his hands turned outward. “Well, we all agree it would have never worked out right? You’re not the one for relationships and she was clearly using you for that charity money.”

What the actual fuck?

“You don’t know her. So don’t you dare assume anything about her.” Bucky sprung up, his hands hitting the table with a thump. “Dove has the kindest, most beautiful soul on this earth.” He wouldn’t let Tony, of all people, insult you. Not you. Not his dove. And, yes, maybe it also hurt a little that his friend did not believe Bucky could change for something truly important. And maybe it scratched his ego that this might have been the reason for your rejection the other day. But all of that seemed unimportant now.

“Look at you growing all protective.”

“Tony.” Steve’s condescending tone rumbled over the booth.

A look at Tony and Bucky wanted to smack the smirk off his face. Another look at Sam, whose eyes had grown soft with empathy. And one last look at Steve, who’d only wanted him to be as happy as him. Damn it.

“You wouldn’t fucking know what I’m talking about, Stark.”

And then he stormed out of the Ironbar and into the night, head fuming, heart racing, and only one thing on his mind.

❁ ❁ ❁

You were pretty sure Bucky would have kicked your door down had you not opened it the second time he wrapped his fist against it. Now he was standing in front of you, cheeks reddened from the cool night air, chest rising with deep breaths, but still devilishly handsome.

“Hey, Bucky!” You smiled until you noticed the irritated look in his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

He seemingly ignored you, stepping into your home and then turning once you closed the door. “Do you think I can change?”

“What?”

“Do you believe I could change? That I could become the person you would date?” His eyes were pleasing, his head cocked to the side - fidgedy.

“Is... is this about the other day?”

Bucky looked nervous, vulnerable even. “Just answer my question, please.”

“I believe everyone has the ability to change. But I also know not everyone wants to.” You looked at your hands, suddenly feeling a bit awkward.

“Then why... why do you think I haven’t. Through all the times we’ve gone to the shelter, through all the conversations. I’ve never had that with someone before... what I have with you.”

There it was. You knew you had to talk to him about it sooner or later. Sam and Matt had suggested as much. You just didn't know it would be this soon.

“Bucky, I just don’t want to end up as one of the women passing you on the street, throwing side eyes at the newest one you’re having on your arm.” Yeah... that encounter had been a rather awkard one. Not to mention how nervous you were that night, hopig Bucky had only played it cool in order to protect you.

“See, but that wouldn’t happen to you, dove. It wouldn’t. Because I realized that you are the reason that makes me want to change.” Bucky's gaze softened as he spoke, his tone gentle yet resolute he stepped closer. “I'm not perfect, but I promise you this: I'll always try my best for you. So, yeah, maybe it's a long shot, but I think I could be good for you. And if you'd give me the chance, I'd love to show you.” He took your hands in his, then closed his eyes and came even closer. “I know I'd treat you right.”

Throughout his confession, your gaze never faltered from his face. You could feel the desperate honesty in his tone, in the way his hands lightly trembled. He was scared, and he lay that emotion in your hands - for you to do whatever you needed with it.

Your voice was shaky when you answered, a light hue of shame fogging the question on the tip of your tongue. “But how do I know...?” That this is not what you’re telling every woman in this godforsaken city?

But Bucky understood. Because apparently that pull you'd had toward him had been there for a reason. “Because the things you make me feel scare me.” His face was mere inches from yours now, you could see every speck of color in his irises. “They scare me because I’ve never felt them before. Every time I’m not with you, I think of you. In every situation I am in alone, I imagine how much more exciting it would be with you in it. I’m going crazy. I’m lost without you, dove.”

A single tear ran down your face at his confession. This moment felt so raw, his words so sincere. But most importantly, it made your heart pound with excitement.

“Will you be mine?” His forehead leaned against yours, his hands moving up your arms and to your neck. “Please say yes,” he whispered and his breath tickled your nose.

He just felt so right. Bucky felt right in your home, in your arms, in your life. “Yes.” You finally answered and as soon as the syllable left your mouth, his lips came crashing onto yours.

Within seconds, Bucky had you pressed against the door. His hands held your face lovingly, his hands warm and big on your skin. The kiss was deep and so unbelievably pure, it punched the breath from your lunges the second your lips connected. And suddenly you knew that Bucky’s words held far less emptiness than you had feared. Nobody could kiss like this and not be sincere. At least you hoped it to be true because once you’d gotten a taste, you knew you would never want to try anything else. You could get drunk off him. Forever.

Your hands wandered beneath Bucky’s coat, settling in the warmth of his back beneath the thick wool and feeling the muscles ripple when he pulled you even closer.

You sighed into him because the moment felt so right, so perfect, so tailored to the two of you and Bucky brushed his tongue over your bottom lip. The tingle from the gesture traveled down your spine. Before you could hold yourself back, you let his touch swallow you whole.

❁ ❁ ❁

Bucky moaned, a feeling so warm and enjoyable taking over his body with every breath you stole from him. He had wanted for this to happen for weeks. And the real thing did not disappoint.

Your hands roamed his back until they hooked onto his shoulders and began shrugging off his coat. He tried hard to keep your lips on his during the action, not wanting to miss a single moment without them anymore. You were here, you were his, and it was perfect.

“Bucky,” you whimpered when his thigh made its way between your legs. A move so instinctually feeling for him. But all the other women he’d been with before only seemed like practice now. Preparation to be the best lover you’ve ever had and ever will have. Because you were the real thing, the grand prize, the best person to ever happen to him.

You ground down on his legs in rhythmic motions, Bucky could feel the heat seeping through his expensive dress pants and it made him feel even hotter. He pushed his leg higher, reveling in the sounds that came from your lips and the very knowledge he was the one providing this pleasure. There was nothing more exhilarating.

But still, it wasn’t enough. “There are too many layers of clothes between us, dove,” his wet breath brushed against your cheek as he pulled his thigh back for you to take off your jeans.

“You’re so right.” You grinned and then pulled them down in one swift motion only to reveal a pink pear of panties underneath.

In an instant, his body was pressed to yours again, his lips attaching to yours like magnets - he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you. But instead of placing his leg right back to get you that delicious friction, his hand began traveling down your front until it disappeared in your underwear.

If you were any other woman, Bucky would’ve gone down on you. He would have dropped to his knees and eaten you out because he knew it was the fastest way he’d make you come. And he took pride in the fact that the women he was with always had at least one orgasm more than him. But he didn’t do so with you.

Why?

Because Bucky Barnes got high off of your lips, and he couldn’t possibly imagine not seeing your face, feeling your mouth shape in a silent scream when he would make you come for the first time.

So his hand had to do for now. His fingers slipped past the thin pink cotton and over your mound to gather your slickness. He gasped when he reached your heated core. “You’re so wet for me, love. So ready.” He pecked the corner of your lips. “So perfect.”

“Yes!” You whined and pressed your pussy into his touch. Bucky immediately started to trace circles on your clit. He took his time to find the motions with which your breath staggered, or your fists clenched in his shirt. With every whimper, every stroke of his hand, he felt his dick strain his pants a little more - the aching exciting him for when he could finally sink into you.

“Shit, don’t stop. I’m so close.”

“I don’t plan on ever stopping.” He growled into your mouth, his hand movements becoming more frantic, the wet noises filling your apartment. Frankly, Bucky didn’t believe he could ever stop giving you pleasure and having you writhe in his arms with deep sighs. Not until he knew how you sounded cumming on his hand, on his face, on his dick, on the sofa, on the bed, and every other surface he could possibly imagine. Your body was like ecstasy.

Your walls began to clench around his fingers, every drag becoming harder as he imagined his cock being squeezed by you instead. “There you go, Baby. That’s it.”

“OH MY GOD!” You screamed as your hand pulled on his hair, your body growing rigid with pleasure and Bucky kissed every curse word from your lips.

After a minute, he slowly pulled his hand back, the other caressing the skin on your cheek. “Are you okay?” He whispered, his eyes boring into yours in genuine concern.

“Are you kidding? I’m more than okay. That was incredible.” Bucky couldn’t help the small chuckle from leaving his lips at your praise.

“You look really fucking pretty when you come.”

“I’m glad. Because I want you to make me do it again.” You kissed his cheek. “And again.” And then you gently stroked his cock through his pants. “And again.”

And the second you said that Bucky pulled you onto the floor with him. He took his time removing your clothes, kissed the trial of your bra strap all the way down your shoulder, licked and bit at your hips all the way down to your ankles where he finally pulled off your underwear and pressed his lips to the soft skin of your leg. And when you were fully naked, he paused. Bucky’s eyes roamed your body, taking in every divot, every mark and curve of yours.

He sat back on his haunches, his head getting dizzy when the butterflies took over. “God, you’re so beautiful,” Bucky softly wheezed, his hand slowly stroking your leg as you lay spread out in front of him.

“Come here.” You gestured with your arms open, welcoming him in your embrace with a wide smile. Bucky supported his weight with his arms on either side of your head and let your hands bury in his hair. He closed his eyes letting the warmth of your touch overtake him. Your thumbs stroked over his brows before you whispered: “Look at me.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I doubted you. I feel the appreciation in the way you talk to me and touch me. It was unfair of me to assume you are your reputation.”

“No, it’s okay. It’s not like I made it easy for you to believe me.”

You chuckled and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Well, I do now.” Your eyes locked with his and a new fire lit within them.

“Good.” He smirked and then rolled you over so that you were straddling his waist. The cool wooden floor hit his bare back as you had bunched his shirt up on the way, now pulling it over his head and revealing your satisfied stare when your hands traced over his abs.

You shook your head and released a breath. “Shame on me for refusing this for so long.” Your fingers passed his happy trail and began working on his belt. Bucky’s thumbs stroked your thighs as he watched you undress him, the tent in his pants ever so present and growing with every brush of your fingers.

“Don’t worry, dove. We have all the time in the world to make up for it.” When his pants were off he pulled you forward again, kissing you ferociously. “‘Cause I’m not planning on leaving.”

You smirked and ground down on his cock, interrupting his speech and ripping a guttural sound from his chest.

He had been holding back. Ever since you'd dragged him into that shelter, he had not touched a woman, because you had him hooked the second you had taken his hand on the way. And now he had to bite his tongue to keep himself from coming in his boxers like a school boy.

“Are you getting nervous, Bucky?” You grinned and moved again to tease him a little more.

“Can you blame me?” He clenched his jaw when you rocked forward again, his hand stilling your hips with a near-bruising grip. “I’ve wanted you ever since I stepped foot in your shop.”

“You did?” Your head cocked to the side, surprise washing over your face and his dick twitched making Bucky’s cheeks heat up.

“Yes...” He confessed only to be attacked with your kisses again. He groaned and bucked his hips up until you were a moaning mess on top of him. His hands reached around you, settling on your ass and giving it a small clap.

“Hand me my walled, baby. It’s in my pants.”

“Why?”

“We need a condom if you don’t want to keep dry-humping me.” He smirked, knowing, feeling there was nothing dry about this anymore. Your arousal was already drenching his boxers. The slick pushing him close to losing it.

“It’s okay. We don’t have to, I have an IUD.”

“As much as I want to, we should be safe...” Bucky swallowed and averted his eyes in regret. “Have to get tested again.”

“Oh, ok.” You were disappointed, he could tell. And Bucky was too. It was the first time he ever regretted all his one-night stands because he would kill to fuck you raw and feel all of you. And as hazy as your body made him, he could not ignore the fact that he did have several different sex partners before. It would have to wait a few weeks. And when he would come back clean, he would keep you in the bedroom for a week straight.

You must have noticed his misery because you leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Then you scooched back and retrieved the condom from his wallet. Bucky held his breath when your fingers hooked into his waistband. And when you pulled them down, his cock stood proud and thick with precum already pearling from his tip.

He reached for the shiny packet in your hand but you pulled your arm up, your eyes stuck on his cock. “Let me.”

“Okay,” he breathed out as he watched you rip the packet. His shaft twitched when your careful hands rolled the condom over him, another bead of precum dripping into the condom and before he could collect himself, you rubbed your pussy all over him, coating him in your arousal.

Bucky’s hands turned into fists at your sides as he watched you finally sink down on him - inch by inch, your heat welcomed him, his body sparking with pleasure all over. You moaned in unison when he was fully seated inside you, his cock being hugged tightly in your warmth - he’d barely held it together then.

You planted your hands on his abdomen and rocked forward, sending the both of you reeling. It took a second for Bucky to collect himself. His eyes closed and his nose huffing, he reminded himself of what he had promised you and what he wanted his first time with you to be. When he opened his eyes again, his hands moved over your body with determination. One setting over your breast, rolling your nipple between his fingers, the other began tracing tight circles on your clit.

Your head fell back, a vision of ecstasy and pleasure unfolding before him when he sent you over the edge a second time. He slowed your hips on his and rubbed your pussy with his thumb. He needed you to come again. And then again, and he had to hold out for that long. But the way your chest heaved, the light sheen of sweat forming on your skin, made his plan more than difficult.

It took all of Bucky’s willpower to pull you off his cock and push you to his legs. He sat up and kissed up your neck until he reached your lips. “What are you doing?”

“Giving you what you asked for.” He mumbled against your skin and then licked over your nipple, the other being caressed by his fingers. His free hand found its place right between your legs again and when you moaned lowly, he slipped two fingers inside you.

Your pussy was squelching, the lewd sound traveling across the living room as Bucky worked you towards another release. You were already squirming in his hands again. Your fists pulled at his roots, sending a shiver straight to his cock when you leaned his head back. “You’re amazing.” Your breath was hot, fanning over his lips only to be replaced by them again. His tongue slipped inside and mimicking the movement of his fingers in your pussy.

“Right back at ya, dove. I can't wait to be inside you again.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“For you to come again.” He bit your lip and sped up his fingers already feeling you squeeze him tightly. “So you’re satiated when I come deep inside you, feeling you squeeze me with that perfect pussy of yours until you see stars.”

“Shitshitshit. I’m coming!” A series of curses flew past him when you pulsed around his fingers, gushing all over his hand and lap until he finished rocking you through your third orgasm.

“Fuck,” Bucky licked your juices off his fingers and his eyes rolled back into his head.

“I don’t think I have another in me, Bucky.”

“Don’t worry, love. I got you.” And with that he hooked your legs around his waist, falling forward until you were with your back to the floor, Bucky hovering over you and aligning his length with your entrance.

He couldn’t wait anymore, in one swift motion, Bucky fully bottomed out until his balls hit your ass. And when he was confident you were comfortable, he set a relentless pace. He had been on the edge this entire time. You had almost made him come just having him watch you let go. But there was nothing like the feeling of your pussy hugging him tightly, your body writhing beneath his, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and nails raking down his back.

“You feel so good,” he grunted and you just moaned in response.

“Look at me, please.” His hand turned your face. “I need to see you.”

Bucky snapped his hips into yours even faster, your walls already clenching tightly around him and he threatened to burst. Your eyes opened and fell to his and Bucky couldn’t stop his orgasm from ripping through him anymore. His strokes stuttered, his balls tightened, but he held eye contact with you, searching your hand behind his back to lock your fingers with his.

The white pleasure exploded within him, elevated by your own peak hitting with full force. He kissed you then, feeling like he was somewhere between heaven and your living room floor. His mind was consumed by you, his body tingling in aftershocks as he rocked you through your highs.

His damp chest fell into yours when you came down. He rolled on his back, taking you with him, pressed deeply into his body, his cock still buried inside you. Bucky’s chest was heaving, the last remnants of pleasure sparkling in his nerves. He kissed your hand and cuddled you closer.

This was what he was made for. To be with you, to be consumed by your affection and warmth.

He smoothed over your head and felt your lashes flutter on his skin. His heart was blooming with contentment - all the fear he’d felt to commit was miles away, lost somewhere between the Ironbar and your doorstep. There was nothing he was more sure of.

“Let me do this right. Let me take you out.” He whispered into your hair with a smile, trying to remember a time he’d ever been this happy.

You snorted as your hand gently stroked over his chest. “Bucky, you’re literally ballsdeep inside of me right now.”

Bucky chuckled as well, his hand rubbed down your bare back in a soothing motion when he kissed your head. “Nothing like a convincing argument, huh.”

🫵 You cant get enough of this character? Go check out the chatbot I made for him! This way you can explore different endlings, plotlines, or just enjoy his company for a while longer 💕

You already know your girl couldn't decide which GIF to use. So here are the extra ones:

Woooow, you've made it this far! Thank you so much 💕 If you have some time to spare, I would reaaaally appreciate some feedback from you. A comment or a reblog can help so much to reach more people and improve writing. Talk to you soon ~Meg 💞

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