#steve rogers x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 18 hours ago

Text

Give and Take 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, stalking, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Steve Rogers

This AU is called Watcher Anonymous and will include different series for different characters. This is our introduction to Steve and Charity

Summary: the women's shelter harbours a particularly suspicious character.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Hey, Steve,” Leanne greets him as the door blows shut behind him. The unusually windy day has him out of sorts. “Breezy out, huh?”

“Yeah,” he does his best to tidy his hair. So much for that new pomade. He straightens the lapels of his jacket his tie swept over his shoulder. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Right on time.” She assures him.

The door opens and blows back on its hinges. Steve turns as a flurry gusts in around the figure. Charity trips through and barely saves the box in her arms from overturning. Steve is quick to steady it, his skin tingling as he touches her tweed sleeves. She smiles at him with a thanks.

“I’ve got some surprises,” she announces over his head, “it’s why I’m behind.”

She’s breathless. He is too. He stays close. Do something, Rogers. She’s right there.

“Can I help?” He asks.

She bats her eyes at him and her full cheeks get rounder, “sure can. You're such a doll.”

She hands him the box and he takes it without falter. It’s heavy but he won’t let her see that. He peeks at the hastily closed flaps, he can see something peeking in the small space between the cardboard.

“There’s more in my car,” she says. “Lea, you mind if I leave my bag with you while I get the stuff?”

“Sure thing,” the receptionist replies.

Everyone likes Charity. She’s a bright spot even when times are tough. At the shelter, almost every day is rough. Of course, they don’t have to be there but they choose to be. Those who come seeking help don’t have that choice.

Steve watches her swirl out and stares dumbly after her. Her beret is crooked, the bow of her blouse is half out over her jacket, and her pleated skirt catches the wind dangerous. Her full calves and the bottom of her thighs peek out at him with the rise in her hem.

“What’s in it, then?” Leanne asks.

Steve turns and clears his throat. He comes forward and leans the box on the corner of the desk. He squints as he pulls back a flap. He hums as he reaches in.

“Tampons,” he takes a package out.

Leanne laughs. Steve is slightly embarrassed but why should he be? Women need those things and that’s what they do here. Give women what they need.

Charity returns again. She has a whole wagon of boxes behind her. She bounces in proudly.

“Forgot I still had this thing in my car,” she beams.

“I could’ve helped,” Steve snaps out of his daze and shoves the package back in the box.

“Oh, no, all good.”

“Where’d you get all this?” Leanne wonders as she taps the box with her pen.

“Work! We did a promotional deal with a pharmacy and I was talking to the local owner. He donated all this back stock.” She explains bright, “just took a bit of convincing!”

Steve hesitates. He could be convinced to give her anything. Still, the suggestion makes him uneasy. What did she do?

“We can do some care boxes,” she declares. “I got some stuff to put it all in too.”

“Oh, right, well, everyone else is serving dinner,” Leanne clucks.

“I can help,” Steve offers.

“Sure,” Charity agrees. “Is the back room free?”

“Yeah, movie night’s in the rec room so just don’t go in there.” Leanne girds.

Charity goes to drag the wagon forward but Steve blocks her. He sets the box of tampons on top.

“Let me,” he insists.

“Oh, Steve, thanks.”

She remembers his name! His hand grazes hers as he takes the handle and she brushes by him. Her perfume, a discount brand that smells like cherry, wafts from her. He follows her through the heavy door she unlocks with the code and down the hall.

They get everything into the backroom, slightly crowded by the shelves of toilet paper and cleaner. She tuts and looks around. “Hope you don’t mind working on the floor.” She’s happy enough to get down on her knees as she takes a box from the wagon. “I got some zip-up pouches. That way they can keep using them after.”

She takes out one of the floral plastic pouches. He wonders if this was actually all given to her. He’d give her most anything but would a corporate shill really succumb to her so easy?

He starts moving the boxes off the wagon then folds it up out of the way. He kneels down with her, padding him knees on his coat. He’s too boney to be on the floor.

“Thank you for helping,” she says. “So, tampons, pads, lip balm, vaseline, lotion, body and face, soap, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste,” she goes down a pretty extensive list as she packs the first kit. “And I even got some chocolate truffles as a treat!”

“Wow, that’s quite a haul,” he says and takes a striped pouch.

“Oh, and there’s kids’ stuff especially for the youngins,” she says, “they get a puppy or kitten keychain too.”

“So you... what do you do for work?” He asks, even though he knows.

“I do communications. Mostly promotional events and all that.” She shifts onto her butt. Her hips look even wider as her skirt fans around her bent legs. “Boring. I’d love to work here full-time but a girls’ gotta pay the rent.”

“Right,” he nods thoughtfully as he takes a tub of lip balm.

“And you...?” She peeks up at him, “oh don’t forget, there’s little slots to tuck the small stuff.” She shows him the inside of a pouch.

“Um, if you think your work is boring, mine’s... dull. Museum. I do tours mostly.” He answers.

He likes his job but he’s used to people teasing. Well, he gets to look at art and cool relics and talk about it whenever someone happens by. He likes the renaissance ones with the fuller figures, they remind him of her.

“No way! That’s so cool. Do you have anything about Letizia Borgia? I read an article the other day.”

“Some, mostly artists but we have some papal stuff too,” his pulse evens out a bit. It’s easy to talk about his expertise.

“And the Medicis?” She wonders.

“I thought you were in communications,” he teases.

She laughs and it blooms in his cheeks like fire. “Between everything, I do find some time for hobbies. Though I might lose a bit of sleep.”

He chuckles, a little more tension slaking away. This isn’t as scary as he imagined. He’ll have something to report to the discord at least.

“Ha, yeah, tell me about it,” he grins.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #series #drabble #watchers anonymous #mcu #marvel #give and take #captain america #avengers

98 notes · View notes

deepdisireslonging · 29 minutes ago

Text

🥰 🥵😵‍💫🥵😵‍💫🥵😵‍💫🥵 🥰

Lovelies, I'm exhausted and in a mood. Indulge with me, if you will.

Warnings: Steve Rogers, explicit sexual content, dry humping, grinding

banner by the talented @cafekitsune

We all know Steve Rogers can fuck for hours, right? Peak condition and all, but can we talk about the flip side and how sensitive he is some days? Just hard for absolutely no reason and he feels like he'll blow his load if you even look in his direction?

So, naturally, you decide to be a little bratty when you see him on the couch trying to hide the massive hard-on he’s sporting. And why wouldn't you play a little? The thought of the commanding, blonde, sculpted super soldier about to burst because of you is just too hot to ignore.

“Aww. Poor Steve. Hard in your pants just because I walked into the room,” you tease as you straddle him, the outline of his cock making you shiver. He's strong enough to push you away, but doesn't. So you take it as an invitation to shove your hips down in a slow, dirty grind. “Let me take care of that for you.”

He grunts, his pretty blue eyes fluttering as you roll your hips. You arch your back when he grips them hard enough that you can feel it in your bones. Other than that, he doesn't move. In fact, he hardly breathes. Because he doesn't want to lose it so quickly.

“Keep doing that and I'll come in my pants,” he grits.

And that makes you double your efforts.

You tug at his hair, biting at his soft lower lip. His eyes are hazy, his breathing heavy. “All the panties you've made me ruin. Only fair I return the favor just this once.” You smirk when his head falls back. “Can you smell how wet I am? Bet you wish you were fucking me. Too bad. You owe me an orgasm first.”

“Sweetheart.” He warns, his voice a bit hoarse, his cheeks flushed. He's beautiful. He’s yours.

“It's okay. You can come. I want you to. Make a mess for me.” Your lips move to his ear to breathe out, “Captain.”

Steve moans your name when you shove your hips down once more and he finally moves. His body shudders and you can't help but smile when you feel the wet patch through the fabric. You made Steve Rogers, Captain America, come in his pants. God, he even whimpers when he’s finally spent.

“Think you can get it up again, old man?” You tease.

Steve may spank you when he bends you over the arm of the couch and makes another mess.

This time inside you.

Nothing to see here, lovelies! Go about your business! ❤️

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #writers reading writers #reblogged tags:#lawd have MERCY

2K notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 2 days ago

Note

steve rogers 👀

it's so important to me that i discuss the king of arms with you, arm kink indy. his biceps are so big you can't wrap your hands around one and touch fingers. you try squeezing it to close the gap but it's rock solid because he's got it flexed, and seeing how big of a space there is between your thumbs is so surprising that you're immediately squirming in your seat. he knows you think it's attractive but i don't think he really understands how turned on you are by it until you grab hold of one during sex and drag it between your thighs.

he ends up flat on his back with his arm flexed and held tight over his chest, watching you from below as you ride it. it's the best angle he's ever gotten from you, he can see you leaking all over his arm, he can watch your face as you ride him, and he's letting himself be pinned by your weight even though he could throw you off in an instant.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #indy <33

95 notes · View notes

sergeantbarnessdoll · 3 days ago

Note

Hi, doll, I was wondering if I could request a Steve Rogers x Reader in which the reader is the daughter of some-one Bucky killed and he say 'sorry' to her on Raynor's orders. It's awkward because Steve wants Bucky away from her. And Bucky ends up saying 'sorry' to her at one point.

I hope this makes sense. I just had this idea in my head.

Making Amends » Steve Rogers/Captain America and Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky tries to make amends with you for what he did as the Winter Soldier, but Steve wants Bucky to stay away from you and he ends up apologizing to you at some point.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, language, mentions of HYDRA, mentions of murder, nightmares, flashbacks, slapping (once), crying, kissing, pet names

A/N: Thank you for the request @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers 🩵

A/N #2: Italic text is nightmares and flashbacks.

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buck-star

GIFS ARE NOT MINE! Gif credits go to the creators.

“I made amends with almost everyone.” Bucky tells Dr. Raynor.

“Everyone, including Y/N?” Dr. Raynor says.

Bucky cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. He looked down at his lap, fiddling with his gloved fingers.

“I’m taking that as a no.” She says, writing it down in her notebook.

Bucky rolled his eyes when she started writing in her notebook.

“Does Steve know?” She asks.

“Does my best friend know that I killed his girlfriend’s parents when I was under HYDRA’s control? Yes, he does know.” He says.

The horrible memories of what he did to your parents constantly flashes through his mind. The horrific scream he heard when you saw him and the blood of your dead parents.

You opened the door to your house, only to find it kicked in. You cautiously walked in the house.

“Mom? Dad?” You say.

You found boot prints leading to the dining room. You followed each one, finding a man with a metal arm, wearing tactical gear, and had guns and knives. Your eyes widened when you saw your parents laying on the floor… dead in the pool of their own blood. You screamed, startling the man. He spun around, only to see a horrified teenage girl with tears streaming down your face. You quickly recognized him as the Winter Soldier, due to the red star on the shoulder of his metal arm. Usually, he kills any witnesses during missions, but this time, he didn’t. He bolted out of the house, leaving you alone with your dead parents on the dining room floor.

“James?” Dr. Raynor snapped her fingers, pulling Bucky from that horrific memory. “You still here?” She asks.

“Y-Yes.” Bucky says, clearing his throat again.

“You were thinking about Y/N’s parents again, weren’t you?” She says.

Bucky nodded.

“Make amends with her.” She says.

“How? She won’t even talk to me, let alone look at me.” He says.

“Try everything you can think of.” She says.

Bucky sighs and nods again. He wishes that he can just walk up to you and apologize for what he did, but it’s harder than it looks.

Bucky walks in the Avengers compound with his hands in his jacket pockets. He seen Steve. He’s just hoping you’re there too.

“Hey Steve. Is Y/N here?” Bucky asks.

“Yes, but you know she hates you.” Steve says.

“I know.” He sighs. “I want to talk to her.” He says.

You walked in the room, freezing when you seen Bucky talking to Steve. He seen you and Steve turned around.

“Y/N, I-” You walked past him before he could say anything else.

Bucky followed you and so did Steve.

“Y/N, I want to apologize.” He says.

Bucky put his hand on your shoulder to get you to stop walking. You stopped in your tracks and turned around, smacking him across his face.

“I don’t want to hear a god damn word from you! What you did is unforgivable. Just because you’re best friends with my boyfriend, doesn’t mean you and I are friends.” You say, your eyes tearing up.

Bucky didn’t dare to say anything. He just nodded and watched you leave the compound.

“I was doing what Dr. Raynor told me to do.” Bucky says.

“I understand that, but I think it’s best that you stay away from Y/N.” Steve says.

“Ok.” He whispers.

Bucky doesn’t want to upset you anymore than you already are so he’ll keep his distance for now. He just needs to think of a way to talk to you so he can apologize.

He waited a couple days before apologizing to you again. He went to yours and Steve’s apartment, hoping that you’re home. He knocked on the door and patiently waited for you to open it. Instead of you opening the door, Steve did.

“Is Y/N home?” Bucky asks.

“Not yet.” Steve answers. “I told you to stay away from her.” He says.

“I know, but she’s the last person I need to make amends with.” He says.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Buck. She hates you enough as it is and she doesn’t want to hear anything you have to say.” He says.

Bucky looks down and sighs sadly. He just left instead of fighting his best friend about apologizing to you. He so desperately wants to make amends with you. That’s all he wants to do. He hates that he put you through this. Bucky heard the elevator ding. He looked up to see you getting off of it. He opened his mouth to say something to you, but you held your hand up before he could say anything to you.

“What part of me hating you and not wanting to talking to you, do you not understand?” You say.

“I’m just doing what Dr. Raynor told me to do. I made amends with everyone else. I need to make amends with you.” Bucky says.

“I don’t give a fuck about what she told you to do! I can’t make amends with someone who killed my parents!” You say.

You walked past him, going straight for yours and Steve’s apartment. You opened the door and slammed it behind you. You leaned against the door and started crying. Steve wrapped his arms around you before your legs gave out under you. Now, Bucky has to tell Dr. Raynor tomorrow during his therapy session that he’s made no progress on making amends with you. He laid awake most of the night and stared up at the ceiling, thinking about what he did to your parents. Meanwhile, you were tossing and turning from a recurring nightmare you’ve been having for years.

“Sweetheart.” Steve whispers, gently shaking you. “You’re having that nightmare again.” He says.

You woke up and quickly sat up, tears streaming down your face and your breathing uneven. Steve wrapped his arms around you and pulled you onto his lap.

“I know Bucky is your best friend, but I hate him.” You say.

Steve rubbed your back and listened to what you were saying.

The following day, Bucky went to his therapy session with no progress on making amends with you.

“Did you make amends with Y/N?” Dr. Raynor asks.

“No.” Bucky answers. “I tried, but Steve told me to stay away from her.” He says.

“Ok.” She closed her notebook. “Text Steve and tell him to bring Y/N here.” She says.

Bucky took his phone out of his pocket and texted Steve. Steve texted back, telling him he’s on his way with you.

“Who texted you?” You asked curiously.

“Bucky.” He says.

“What does he want?” You mumbled.

“He said Dr. Raynor wants to talk to you.” He says.

“Why? I don’t need therapy.” You say.

“No one is saying you do, honey. Let’s go to see what she has to say.” He says.

“Fine.” You mumbled.

After a while, you and Steve got to Dr. Raynor’s office. You should’ve known what you were walking into when you seen Bucky.

“No.” You said.

“Just sit down and listen to him.” Dr. Raynor says.

You stared at Bucky silently, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Fine.” You mumbled.

“I’ll be in the waiting room.” Steve says, pecking your lips softly.

You sat down on the couch next to Bucky and waited for him to say what he needs to say.

“I am so sorry about what I did as the Winter Soldier. I was given a mission and I did it. You weren’t supposed to be there.” Bucky begins.

“Except I was there. Do you want to know how horrifying it is to come home from school to find your parents dead in the dining room and the person who killed them? That day has been haunting me for years.” You say, your eyes tearing up.

“It’s been haunting me too.” He admits. “If I would’ve known they had a kid, I wouldn’t have gone through with the mission.” He says.

“You didn’t see the pictures on the walls?” You asked sarcastically.

Bucky shook his head no.

“Thanks to you, I had no one. You took my parents from me. I was lonely for years until I met Steve. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you and I don’t think I can see us being friends.” You say with tears rolling down your cheeks.

Bucky wasn’t sure what to say next in his apology. He hit a roadblock.

“Can I go now?” You asked Dr. Raynor.

“Yes.” She replies. “So can you, James.” She says.

You stormed out of the room with tears on your face.

“I want to go home.” You say, walking past Steve.

Steve stood up and looked at Bucky as he walked out of Dr. Raynor’s office.

“What did you say to her?” Steve asks.

“All I did was apologize.” Bucky says.

“Whatever you said made her even more upset than she already is.” He says.

You were quiet for the rest of the day. That night, you were staring at the wall in the dark. There was something about Bucky’s apology that you were curious about. You assumed your dad had some kind of involvement with HYDRA, but what did your mom do? She had nothing to do with HYDRA. She was just a woman who was married, had a daughter, and a job. You wanted more answers so you grabbed your phone and texted Bucky.

You: Are you awake?

Bucky: I am now. What’s up?

You: Can you come over please? I want to talk to you. It’s important

Bucky: I’m on my way

You shut your phone off and quietly slipped out from Steve’s hold on you without waking him up. You went to the kitchen and made coffee while you waited for Bucky. It didn’t take long for him to get to yours and Steve’s apartment since he lives a few minutes away. Bucky texted you that he’s there so he didn’t accidentally wake Steve up by knocking on the door or ringing the doorbell.

“Come in.” You stepped aside after opening the door. “I made coffee. Do you want some.” You asked.

“Yes please.” Bucky smiles.

Bucky went to the living room and sat down on the couch while you went to the kitchen to get you and him coffee. You came back with two cups and gave him one.

“You said you wanted to talk about something important?” Bucky says, taking a sip of his coffee.

“It’s about the day you- the Winter Soldier killed my parents.” You say.

Bucky froze in his seat.

“I knew my dad had some kind of involvement with HYDRA, but I don’t know what it was. I was hoping you would know.” You say.

“He was a scientist for HYDRA who worked on the Super Soldier serum. He had files of the serum HYDRA wanted back so I was sent to kill- take care of him and get the files back.” He explains.

“What was my mom’s involvement?” You asked.

“She had no involvement with HYDRA.” He says.

“Then why did you kill her?” You asked, your eyes tearing up.

“I was told to kill any witnesses.” He says.

“Why not me?” You asked in a shaky voice. “I was a witness.” You say.

“I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Besides, you were just a kid.” He says, his voice cracking.

Bucky heard your breathing become uneven and seen your bottom lip quivering. You couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks.

“You know…” You sniffled. “After hearing what you just said, I feel a weight lifted off my chest. I finally got the answers I wanted.” You say.

You were full blown crying now. Bucky wasn’t sure if he should hug you or not.

“I am so sorry for what I did as the Winter Soldier. You didn’t deserve any of that. If I could go back in time and change it, I would.” Bucky says, tearing a rolling down his cheeks.

You put yours and his coffee cups on the coffee table before hugging him. Bucky was caught by surprise, but he hugged you back.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes again.

“I know you are.” You whispered.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life earning your forgiveness.” He says.

“You don’t have to do that. I forgive you.” You say softly.

Bucky was taken back. He looked at you with a confused look on your face.

“You forgive me?” He asks, making sure he heard you right.

“Yes.” You replied. “After hearing your explanation, I now understand that you weren’t under your own control.” You say.

“But I still did it.” He says.

“It wasn’t you. It was HYDRA.” You say.

You hugged him again. Bucky felt a new warmth in his heart.

“I’m willing to give friendship a chance if you are.” You say.

“I’d like that, doll.” Bucky whispers and smiles.

You smiled and kissed his cheek. You two ended up dozing off a moment later.

A few hours later, Steve woke up to feel your side of the bed cold. He lifted his head and frown when you weren’t in bed. He rubbed his eyes and stretched before getting out of bed. He seen two coffee cups on the coffee table and then seen you and Bucky fast asleep on the couch, your legs across Bucky’s lap and a throw blanket draped over the two of you.

“Sweetheart. Bucky.” Steve whispers, gently shaking the two of you awake.

You and Bucky stirred in your sleep before waking up.

“Good morning, Stevie.” You smiled, standing up to give him a morning kiss.

“Good morning, honey.” He kisses you back. “When did you get here?” He asks Bucky.

“Around 1:45am.” Bucky answers, rubbing his eyes. “Y/N texted me to come over and talk.” He says.

“I got the answers I’ve been wanting for years. I accepted Bucky’s apology and forgave him. Him and I are friends now.” You tell Steve with a smile.

Steve rose his eyebrows in surprise. He didn’t think you would forgive Bucky for what he did.

“Really?” Steve asks, looking from you to Bucky.

“Yep!” Bucky smiles.

“Well, I’m happy you got the answers you wanted, sweetheart and I’m happy that my two favorite people are friends now.” He says with a smile.

You tugged on Bucky’s vibranium arm to get him to stand up. He stood up and you gave him a hug. Steve smiles at the two of you, happy that his best friend and his girlfriend are finally getting along.

“Do you like pancakes?” You asked, looking up at Bucky.

“I fucking love pancakes.” Bucky says with a smile.

“I love pancakes too.” Steve says, pulling you against him, making you giggle.

“That’s what we’re having for breakfast.” You say.

“Yes!” They say excitedly.

Overall, you’re happy that you finally got the answers you’ve been wanting for years. Bucky was more than willing to provide those answers.

🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵💙🩵

-Bucky’s Doll

82 notes · View notes

tldrthor · 3 days ago

Text

Not even death (2) | bucky barnes

// Summary: In the wake of the attack, (y/n) and Steve are moved to DC for protection. Rumours of corruption within SHIELD come to a crescendo, and they learn the identity of the man who attacked them at Bucky's grave. The world is turned on it's head.

// warnings: ws!bucky barnes x avenger!wife!reader, lots of grief, canon-typical violence, angst, f!reader, platonic!steve being a cutie patootie

// word count: 4.1k

enjoyed? please like/reblog! you can find my masterlist here <3

part one | part three

The second best day of her life was the day Bucky came back from the POW camp in Europe. The day that Steve Rogers, her tiny, frail friend, was suddenly two feet taller and double the weight. It was the second best, but probably the most confusing.

To describe it, we have to start somewhere else.

Colonel Phillips sat behind his desk, the heavy weight of authority evident within his posture. His fingers drummed lightly on the edge of the paperwork in front of him as he studied the transfer forms with surgical precision. His words came clipped, almost dismissive, as he finally looked up at the young woman standing before him.

"Nurse Barnes," he began, his voice cold and matter of fact. "I need you to understand that you've been given special treatment here." His words were sharp, cutting through the sterile tension of the office. His eyes flicked to the top of the paper, then back to her. "I see that Sergeant Barnes is your husband. We understand him to be missing, but I am sorry to say... it's unlikely he is still alive."

He spoke softer, then. Like he had realised halfway through that the girl in front of him – she couldn't have been older than 25 – was likely a widow.

"Yes, sir." The girl answered, her words as flat and mechanical as she could make them. Her sweaty palms smoothing her creased white uniform.

"You'll be sharing a cabin with the other women on base – Agent Carter here will show you around, get you situated. You'll start in the infirmary tent tomorrow."

He dismissively waved towards a figure in the corner of the room -- an image of perfect composure in her neatly pressed uniform and pinned hair. The nurse suddenly felt inadequate, vulnerable even. She hadn't been thinking straight since she got that awful, awful telegram. The one she had prayed would never come.

Agent Carter stepped forward with quiet grace. Her smile was warm and genuine, a soft hand outstretched to the nurse, which she quickly shook with her own.

"Peggy Carter," she introduced herself. "Come with me, I'll show you to our cabin."

"(y/n) Barnes." The nurse introduced herself, unable to say much else in the wake of the worst few weeks of her life.

"So," Peggy's voice broke through the silence as they walked. "Where were you stationed before?"

The nurse swallowed hard, the words scraping out of her dry throat. "The French front." She could feel Peggy's widened eyes on her, but she kept looking towards the cabin they were marching towards.

She let out a quiet, nearly reverent sound. "God, so you've seen warfare then." It wasn't a question, rather an acknowledgement, a small recognition of the horrors of the front.

The nurse's heart quickened at the mere mention of her previous station, a cold shiver moving down her spine. She didn't want to remember the chaos, the blood, the screams. But it hadn't left her mind since the moment she was deployed.

"Yes." She muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. There was so much more to say than just ‘yes’, but there wasn't a way to succinctly describe some of the horrors she had seen.

They climbed the steps to the simple wooden cabin, Peggy opening the door with a soft creak. "Well, here we are."

The room was simple – clean, functional and small – but the nurse barely registered in the space.

"The top bunk at the end is yours." Peggy said gently, motioning towards the far corner. "I'll let you get set up, if you need anything let me know."

She swallowed, looking upon the nurse who seemed so... defeated. She spoke, perhaps out of turn; "Colonel Phillips hasn't given up on the men. There's still hope."

"Thank you," The nurse whispered, her throat too tight to speak. Peggy stepped back, giving her space.

"Take your time. I'll check on you later."

In the present day, her dreams – as they always were – were filled with memories of Bucky and the war. The sound of his voice was a particular issue, recently. She felt like she was forgetting it. The way his arms had felt around her on their wedding day, and then the day they said goodbye before he shipped to the Italian front and she to the french front. It all felt like the memories were slipping away.

But tonight, on Steve's couch, the dream shifted. She found herself walking through a foggy graveyard. She knew immediately that something was off, but it felt real enough. She could hear his voice – just faintly, calling her from a distance.

She tried to run to him, but her legs felt like stone.

"Bucky!" She called, nearly crawling along the floor in her desperation to get to him.

The fog parted just enough to reveal a figure. Not quite Bucky, but tall and hauntingly familiar. It was wrong, though. As the figure stalked towards her, she saw the glint of his left arm.

It wasn't Bucky. It was the man who attacked her in the cemetery, the one who had bestowed on her what she was sure was at least four broken ribs. His eyes were cold and empty as the all-too-familiar metal arm reached for her.

"(y/n)?" She felt something on her shoulder, and suddenly she jerked awake with a gasp, her breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts.

Steve sat in front of her, whispering soothing things, his hand on her shoulder. He had bags under his eyes, and didn't seem like he had been asleep. A lamp in the corner cast soft shadows over Steve's living room.

"Sorry, nightmare." She whispered, once she got her breath back.

He nodded, a sort of half-smile on his face. "I know. You were calling for Bucky."

His hand still rested on her shoulder, his touch steady and gentle. It reminded her of how she used to comfort him when they were just kids -- whenever he got into a stupid fight, or the neighbourhood kids took to showing him what for. The weight of it anchored her to the present, even as his mind drifted back to the foggy graveyard and the nightmare she couldn't shake.

She inhaled sharply, still failing at steadying her breath. "Sorry... it's just –" she faltered, her eyes on her lap as her hands shook. "It's like I can hear him, feel him. But I always lose him again."

He nodded, humming in recognition.

"I was thinking about the Italian front, the other day. Do you remember?"

He smiled, the memory of the first time he disobeyed orders to save his best friend. The day he promised his other friend that he would do everything he could to bring home her husband.

One of his greatest victories.

"I remember. You were so angry at us – and he couldn't stop grinning because you had come all that way just to tell him off."

Her pensive face broke, at that, revealing a reminiscent smile.

"God, I'd do anything to go back to that."

The atmosphere in the crowd crackled as Captain America walked back, his best friend at his side, and a sea of men trailing behind them. Their victory hung thick in the air.

"Prepare yourself," Steve murmured, his voice low but edged with something akin to amusement. Maybe he should have warned him...

Bucky's gaze flickered to a ripple in the crowds in front of them -- the crowd parted with the ease of moving water, but it wasn't a force of nature that cut through them.

No. It was something more personal, smaller than all of them but ten times as dangerous.

She emerged from the crowd, eyes blazing, shoulders tight with fury.

His wife.

"You two," she shouted, her voice slicing through the charged air like a blade, "are two halves of one whole idiot!"

"Oh my god, what the hell are you doing here?!" Bucky rushed forward with a rather aggressive passion, very nearly knocking her to the ground. If she wasn't so apoplectic with rage, the hug would have softened everything.

Unfortunately, she was very nearly vibrating with anger.

She screwed up her face, wiggling out of his touch. "I came to get you, James." She jabbed a finger in his face, her hand trembling with an uncontainable rage. "Do you know how worried I was," She frowned, "that damn telegram nearly killed me!"

The men around them chuckled before giving the not-so-happy couple some space. He smiled at her with a soft, love-sick smile. He didn't even have it in him to feel guilt, although he was sure he would eventually. He knew military transfer orders, he knew the bureaucracy behind all the paperwork. She had probably fought tooth and nail just to find her way closer to him.

"You transferred here?" He spoke as his hands moved up to hold her face, his thumb stroking her cheek as she furrowed her eyebrows and scoffed at him, slapping away his hand before turning away to the other moron in the situation.

The crowd around them had dissipated now, leaving only the both of them, and a much, much taller Captain America. Steven Grant Rogers. The kid she had spent most of her life protecting in some way or another.

"Don't even get me started on you." she snapped, her voice venomous. She stared him down, his new stature making no difference in how uncomfortable he felt with her intense gaze. He had the decency, at least, to sheepishly look at the ground. "What the hell were you thinking, Rogers?"

"I- " He started. He held his hands in the air like she was holding him at gunpoint. He wished she was, he was much better at that than dealing with grief turned relief turned anger.

She hissed, "Save it. Get yourselves to the infirmary tent, now." She turned on her heel, leading to where the men were beginning to line up to be checked over.

"Fury wants us to move to DC, says we’re better protected there.” After a full breakfast, the situation didn’t feel as dire. She looked at her friend with skeptical eyes, her fork clinking on the plate as she put it down with more force than she had meant to.

She tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “Fury’s up to something.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know if you have the clearance but…” She hesitated. The weight of the words she was about to speak was almost too much, but she couldn’t back down now. “We’ve had some intel. Someone’s using unauthorised SHIELD resources. We think whoever it is… is based at the Triskelion in DC.”

Her word’s hung heavy between them. She could see the suspicion on Steve’s face, the flicker of concern. He leaned in slightly, his eyes piercing as they met hers. “You think Fury’s hiding something?”

She sighed, dragging her hand through her fresh-washed hair. It was the last thing she needed, the organisation she had built up with her bare hands and dearest friends to be compromised. “I… ever since I stepped down as director, I’ve felt like something’s wrong. I regret putting Alexander Pierce in control, I’m worried it’s completely compromised.”

“I think Fury knows something I don’t – the question is what.” She shook her head, her words faltering for a second.

Steve didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t have to. He could see it in her eyes – the frustration, the fear, the doubt. They both knew that if SHIELD was the next big bad, it was going to be harder than just killing aliens that come out of a big hole in the sky. It would be questioning the very thing they fight for in the first place.

“Okay.” Steve finally spoke, his voice low but steady. “Let’s just be careful. We’ll figure it out together – Nat’s already out there anyway, we can ask her to keep an eye out.”

Days later, they were on the move. The rumours they were tracking seemed to grow louder, and a certain name that neither of them wanted to ever hear again kept popping up through the cracks.

HYDRA.

Natasha met them at the new apartment – they had decided to all move in together for safety. Fury assured the commander that there was nothing behind the move, that he didn’t expect anything from her.

“You think we’ll investigate the rumblings about SHIELD being infiltrated.” She frowned at him, finally figuring out his motive.

He smiled, his cards on the table. “Commander, I know you will.”

She couldn’t help but feel a disconnect between her life before and her life now. She didn’t know what had caused it – maybe something about the attack. She had been targeted before, the victim of many plots over the years. Who wouldn’t want to take out an enhanced, seemingly unaging artefact from a time period that was quickly fading from living memory.

But this one felt… different. She couldn’t help but think of Bucky when the knife-edged memory of her assailant made its way to her consciousness again. Something in the way he moved…

She looked up at the Triskelion, her new place of work. It was somehow familiar and unsettling at the same time. A place that had always symbolised SHIELD’s strength – her own blood, sweat and tears – now felt like the beginning of something far more dangerous.

Weeks passed. She almost forgot about the potential mole within SHIELD, she was kept so busy with work given to her by Pierce. She hated being around him, even though she had seen him rise the ranks as a young man nearly from the beginning of SHIELD. Something about him… she could tell he didn’t have good intentions anymore.

Steve and Natasha were starting to dig into the activities that SHIELD was covering around them. There was money, moved around so much that it was impossible to trace it to its destination. Weapons missing from the armoury’s logs. People who walked like they had more power than they should.

And then Fury was attacked in broad daylight. Declared dead. Steve crashed down stories into the foyer of the building, having been attacked by the STRIKE team that (y/n) once commanded. Pierce himself marched into the Commander’s office and declared she was being held on suspicion of treason – she would never have gone quietly, and she got a nice gash across her upper arm to prove it.

They found each other in the hospital after their no good, very bad day.

“Thank god.” Steve wrapped his arms around her as she found him outside the hospital.

She reciprocated. “Is it true? Fury’s dead?” She demanded, a tone in her voice that showed more vulnerability that she would have liked. She looked between him and Natasha, who had tears in her eyes for the first time in a long time.

He could only nod in response.

The truth hit them hard – the realisation that SHIELD had been compromised so thoroughly that it was completely unrecognisable. HYDRA was back, and it was using their own creation to cement itself again.

After that, everything changed. The triskelion was under siege. The situation had escalated faster than anyone could have predicted, and suddenly, they were fighting not only for their lives but for the world. They had picked up Sam Wilson, an ex-air force special forces pilot with helpful strategy ideas and even more helpful wings.

“So, how’d you make it to commander so young?” He had asked her.

Steve, Natasha and (y/n) had just laughed in response.

And then her world shattered even further, even more maliciously. Sitwell grabbed and thrown out of the car in front of a truck – a most effective way to shut him up. Each of them was attacked by an assailant that had haunted her since that moment at Bucky’s grave. She had been so distracted by the return of that memory that she hadn’t seen the knife coming.

One second, she was fighting with everything she had to hold her ground and protect the civilians around them, and the next – pain. Cold metal cutting into her side. A scream of shock that didn’t even escape her throat before her body crashed to the ground.

The world blurred around her. She heard Steve’s voice, desperate, calling her name as he fought to hold the line. And then… the mask fell. For a split second, she thought she must be hallucinating. The pain from the stab wound – and the steady trail of blood seeping through her top – was enough to make her think she could be.

She couldn’t tell which outcome she would have preferred in that moment – for her husband to be dead, or for her husband to be killing her.

The air felt too thick to breathe.

And then, she heard Steve speak his name, stopping in his tracks, too. And her heart stopped.

It couldn’t be. Not after everything – she had mourned for decades. So how could her dead husband, body somewhere in a ravine in Europe, be standing here, now. How could her Bucky – her wonderful, generous, brave husband – have caused the sea of thick crimson that had started to pool around her.

The man who had broken her ribs, and tried to murder her only weeks earlier. That same man, the one with no memory, with no soul, stripped of everything he’d ever been and replaced with a cold, mechanical weapon. A ghost from the past, a soldier she couldn’t recognise.

Natasha had told them the name earlier. A name that sat bitterly on her tongue.

The Winter Soldier.

Her chest tightened as the world seemed to freeze around her. Her pulse was pounding in her ears, and for a moment, she thought she might choke on the grief, the shock, the guilt.

Her hands shook violently as she struggled to push herself up, the pain almost unbearable, but it was nothing compared to the agony in her heart. The man who was supposed to be dead, the man who was supposed to be lost forever, was standing right in front of her — twisted and broken nearly beyond recognition.

But she would recognise him anywhere, anytime. Her Bucky.

The world seemed to tilt, everything spinning around her in a dizzying blur of emotions. How could this be? She couldn’t reconcile the image before her with the man she remembered, the boy she had once loved. She had grieved him. She had clung to every inch of him like it was her only lifeline – his touch, his smile, his cheeky jokes that made the burden of what they were just that little bit easier to manage.

Now, everything she thought she understood was unraveling.

She couldn’t fix this.

The sound of Steve’s voice reached her through the fog of her emotions. She knew he was moving toward her, his panic filling the space between them, but she couldn’t focus on that. She couldn’t focus on anything other than the man standing in front of her.

How could he not remember her?

How could he not remember them?

He locked eyes with her as he raised his gun. Those blue eyes that had looked at her lovingly since the moment they had met, now replaced with emotionless disdain. She decided that her only course of action was to close her eyes and accept whatever this cruel twist of fate had in store.

The Winter Soldier.

A name that would haunt her forever.

Both Bucky and Steve had been sitting outside the infirmary for what felt like hours. The sounds of the camp were muffled around them, but they could hear the laughter and celebration from the mess hall starting already. Closer, the occasional sharp sound of boots on gravel as men trickled in and out of the infirmary, patched up and sporting bandages in various places.

Dugan passed by, a small bandage wrapped expertly around his forehead. “Hell of a woman, Barnes. You’re a lucky guy.”

Morita, who had a nice bruise forming on his cheek, waggled an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of her anger.”

Bucky only grinned and shrugged, his attention never straying far from the door. “Hey, you should be so lucky.” He smiled.

Finally, the line in front of him cleared. He stood, wincing slightly as his leg protested the movement, and made his way into the infirmary. The air was thick with the smell of antiseptic and sweat. The soft sound of hospitalised soldiers and the rattle of medical equipment filled the space.

And there she was.

The moment his eyes met hers, the world around him seemed to still. Her frown deepened, but the way she looked at him told him all he needed to know. She was mad. Madder than he thought he’d ever seen her, maybe aside from the time he and Steve decided to play baseball indoors and smashed her favourite vase.

Bucky took a hesitant step forward, trying to make light of it. “Hi, Nurse.”

She didn’t even look up at first, but when she did, the way her brow furrowed made his stomach twist. She motioned for him to sit, a sigh escaping her lips as she set the clipboard down next to him.

“Sergeant Barnes.” She said, a quiet edge to her voice. “What did they do to you?”

Bucky winced as she touched a bruise near his cheekbone. He had been through a hell of a lot worse in his life, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood to pretend like it didn’t hurt. “Nothing too bad. A little blood, some bad food… the usual.”

The corner of her mouth twitched like she might’ve smiled, but it disappeared almost instantly, replaced by that serious look. He could feel the weight of it pressing down on him.

She frowned. “You really shouldn’t joke right now.” She murmured as she worked, pulling out some supplies. The cotton swab was rough against his skin, and he winced as she dabbed at one the cuts across his eyebrow. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Bucky could feel the tension even in the way her fingers moved – quick, precise, anxious.

When she finally spoke again, her voice was small and fragile: “I thought you were dead.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, his throat going dry. There was no anger to her words now, just a quiet, raw vulnerability. He looked at her then – really looked – finally seeing the bags under her eyes, her red-raw hands from sanitising and scrubbing them over and over and over again. The shine over her eyes from tears that she fought not to spill.

He leaned forward slightly, covering her hand with his. His thumb brushed over the back of her hand gently, “I’m sorry, baby.” His voice was gravelly but soft, “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her eyes met his, and for a moment, everything else disappeared. The anger was still there, tucked away beneath the surface, but it was quieter now – he saw it for what it really was. Love.

She nodded slowly, swallowing thickly. “I know you say that,” She muttered. “But sometimes I wonder… how much longer I’ll get to hear it.”

Bucky’s chest tightened at the implication. He couldn’t imagine what she’d gone through in receiving that telegram. Living with the fear of her husband, gone forever. He knew that if it had been him in that position, he’d have gone mad.

He pulled her hand toward him tilting his head so their foreheads touched, his voice low and steady. “You’re stuck with me, you hear me? No one’s getting rid of me, not even you.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They didn’t need to. It was just the sounds of their breath mingling in the quiet of the infirmary. There was finally a moment of peace amongst the chaos of the war, even if it wasn’t perfect.

But the reality of their lives could never stay far for long, and she pulled away gently, putting that professional mask back on. Bucky had to fight the urge to pull her back, to keep her in that soft, quiet space. She had always been strong and capable, but he felt that she was different now… hardened to the world in a way she wasn’t before. He wondered if he would ever see the sweet, innocent girl he left in New York again.

“I’m on the clock, Barnes.” Her tone returned to being sharper, but it had a softer edge now. “You’re gonna have to send Steve in. I need to check him out.”

Bucky’s mind returned to his alarmingly big, formerly small-friend. “What the hell happened to him, anyway?”

taglist !!

@sprout341 @ironwinnerwonderland @loview321 @Torntaltos @am-3-thyst @kay270000 @yelena-belovas-wife @sc4rrc @parkers-gal

@wintercrows @salemslostwitch @alexandra-001 @nofingjustaninchident @crazyunsexycool @Whiskytoast

-> taglist form!

-> masterlist!

#ws!bucky barnes x avenger!wife!reader #winter soldier #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier!bucky barnes x reader #avengers!reader #established relationship #steve rogers x reader #avengers #captain america: the winter soldier #captain america: the first avenger #SHIELD #nick fury #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #james buchanan barnes

74 notes · View notes

foxgloveprincess · 2 days ago

Text

it is cold and gloomy outside and today was just a little bit shit, but i have minotaur steve and naga bucky to take care of me and keep me warm. 🥰

i’ve definitely needed to reread these guys. they just bring me so much comfort (despite the little bits of the story i wish i could re-edit). chicken soup for the soul, ya know?

It’s A Game Of Give And Take

Pairing: Stucky (Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes) x Female Reader [First Person Narrator]

Word Count: 8.3K

Summary: Dating apps can be tricky. Especially if you’re looking for something specific—like anyone who can even compare to your two roommates, who also happen to be your best friends and in love with each other. You’ve been matched! Just not with the ones you want.

Warnings: Monster AU (Naga Bucky and Minotaur Steve, Monsters x Human Romance), Cursing, Dating Apps, Idiots in Love, Big Misunderstanding, Very Mild Angst, Making Out/Heavy Petting, Implied Smut. Minors do not interact (18+).

A/N: This is my own little monster universe that I’ve created and I hope you enjoy it. I do wanna make one thing clear, though—when I say it’s a misunderstanding, it is on both sides. They really are just idiots. So, yeah. I did not expect it to get this long. Sorry. also possible second part with the fun stuff? i’m still undecided.

I love feedback, so go ahead and reblog if you want. No permission given to copy, translate, rewrite or post my work, at all. I cross-post to my own AO3 account.

Title (and quote in the story) from “Can’t Hurry Love” by The Supremes

This is not Beta’d, so all mistakes are my own.

Enjoy!

Tagging: @kleohoneyao3 @slothspaghettiwrites @bonkywobble

Please DO NOT click ‘Keep Reading’ if you are not 18+ years of age, thank you!

Keep reading

#steve rogers x reader #preserum steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #monster au #naga bucky barnes #minotaur steve rogers #steve rogers x bucky barnes #preserum steve rogers #idiots in love #implied smut #big misunderstanding #female reader #monster x human #monster x human romance

1K notes · View notes

holylulusworld · 2 days ago

Text

The Captain and his bombshell masterlist

Summary: Golden Boy in the streets – the devil in the sheets.

Pairing: Steve Rogers (Post Endgame) x Plussized!Reader

Warnings: angst, fat shaming, bullying, cocky reader, self-confident reader, reader has powers, implied kinky/rough Steve, possible smut in future chapters, kinks

A/N: A drabble collection of cocky reader & kinky Steve.

The Captain and his bombshell (1)

The Captain and his bombshell (2)

The Captain and his bombshell (3)

The Captain and his bombshell (4)

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #plussized reader #x reader #steve rogers x plussized reader #The Captain and his bombshell masterlist

95 notes · View notes

urdreamydoodles · 12 hours ago

Text

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters Receiving a Dirty Picture from You in Public

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

God, I love Marvel Comics...

Peter Parker aka. Spider-Man

Peter has been through a lot. He’s fought villains, lost people he’s loved, and carried the weight of responsibility since he was a kid. But nothing—not Venom, not Doctor Octopus, not the Green Goblin—has ever hit him as hard as opening his phone and seeing you.

He’s perched upside-down on a fire escape, mid-stakeout with Daredevil, when his phone buzzes. He barely glances at it at first, assuming it’s an update from MJ or the Bugle. But then—his Spidey-Sense misfires. His stomach drops. And suddenly, he’s scrambling so fast that he almost falls off the fire escape.

“...Parker?” Matt’s voice is suspicious, brow furrowing beneath the red mask. Peter clutches his phone like a lifeline, heat rushing to his face, his entire body going rigid. “Uh—nope! Nothing’s wrong! Totally fine! Just, uh—gotta—go!” Before Matt can say another word, Peter web-slings away, heart pounding.

Later, in his apartment, he stares at the image, biting his lip so hard he might draw blood. Then, fumbling with his phone, he types back: You cannot just drop this on me in the middle of a mission. I almost DIED. You’re gonna make it up to me. In person. Immediately.

Tony Stark aka. Iron Man

Tony Stark is always the one making people flustered. He’s the king of inappropriate timing, the grandmaster of chaos. So when you flip the game on him? When you send him something completely indecent while he’s in the middle of a live press conference? Oh, he is in trouble.

He’s mid-sentence, standing in front of a sea of reporters, when his phone vibrates. He glances at it without thinking, because hey, it might be about stock prices or another alien invasion. But no. No, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

He visibly freezes. Blinks. Blanches. Then—his brain blue screens. The entire room stares as Tony suddenly cuts off mid-sentence, clears his throat, and forces a smirk that’s absolutely not covering up a crisis. “Uh—ladies and gentlemen, I think that’s enough questions for today.”

The moment he’s offstage, he stumbles into the nearest private room, yanks at his tie, and pulls out his phone like it holds the meaning of life. He types back immediately: Oh, now you’ve done it, sweetheart. I hope you’re home right now, because I’m on my way, and I’m bringing consequences.

Steve Rogers aka. Captain America

Steve is not a prude. He’s been around, he’s seen things. But there’s something about you—about the way you know exactly how to knock the breath from his lungs—that makes him feel like a kid again.

He’s in the middle of a strategy meeting with Sam and Bucky, his shield leaning against the table, when his phone vibrates. He checks it without thinking, eyes flicking down—and then every muscle in his body tenses. His grip on the phone tightens. His ears burn red.

“You good, Rogers?” Bucky gives him a knowing smirk, because he immediately recognizes that look—Steve flustered beyond belief. Steve clears his throat, hard, locking his phone like it’s offended him. “Fine,” he says, voice a little too even. “Let’s, uh—let’s keep going.”

But later, when he’s alone, he exhales deeply, pressing a hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, with slow deliberation, he types: I hope you know what you just started. Because I don’t break my promises, sweetheart. And I promise—you’re not leaving that bed when I get there.

Thor Odinson aka. God of Thunder

Thor has seen battles, has waged wars across the cosmos, has faced monsters and gods. But when his phone pings—when he sees the absolute sin that you’ve just sent him—he forgets how to breathe.

He is in the middle of the Avengers’ common room, laughing boisterously with Bruce and Natasha, when he pulls out his phone. He expects something simple—a text from his brother, perhaps, or a message from Jane. But instead? Instead, he sees you.

The entire room feels it when Thor’s laughter stops. There is a moment—just a beat of silence—before the lights flicker. The air crackles with static electricity. His fingers twitch around the phone, and then, in a low, very serious voice, he mutters, “By the Norns…”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, but Thor abruptly stands, clearing his throat. “I must depart. Urgently.” Bruce frowns. “What? Why?” Thor barely offers an explanation before storming out of the room, typing furiously: You dare tempt the God of Thunder? Very well, little one. You shall learn what it means to summon a storm.

Loki Laufeyson aka. God of Mischief

Loki is the undisputed master of control. He is calm, composed, always one step ahead of everyone else. But when you send him something so shameless, so brazen, in the middle of an important diplomatic event in Asgard—he nearly drops his goblet of wine.

He’s reclining on his throne, listening to some dull ambassador drone on about trade negotiations, when his phone vibrates. He lifts it lazily, expecting nothing of importance—until he sees you.

His entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around the goblet, the silver denting beneath his fingers. His green eyes darken, and for the first time in centuries, he feels his pulse stutter. The ambassador keeps talking, oblivious, but Loki? Loki is seething.

Later, in his chambers, he lounges on his bed, turning the phone over in his fingers before smirking. Then, with slow, careful precision, he types: You dare tease the God of Mischief? Oh, darling, you are in such trouble. And you know how much I enjoy trouble.

Clint Barton aka. Hawkeye

Clint Barton is used to chaos. He’s fought alien invasions, taken down crime syndicates, and, most impressively, lived in a house with three dogs and somehow survived. But nothing—not the Avengers, not S.H.I.E.L.D., not even Kate Bishop’s endless sarcasm—could have prepared him for this.

He’s in the middle of a debriefing with Captain America and Black Widow when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it, but boredom gets the better of him. He sneaks a glance, tilting the screen just slightly—and immediately chokes on his coffee.

“Barton?” Natasha’s voice is sharp, her suspicious gaze snapping to him. Steve looks concerned. Clint, on the other hand, is malfunctioning. He quickly locks his phone, pressing it to his thigh like it’s burning him. “Yep. All good. Just… wrong text thread. You know how it is.”

The second he’s alone, he whistles, rubbing a hand down his face before sending a text: You are absolutely trying to kill me, aren’t you? I’m a trained marksman, babe. You know I always hit my target. Hope you’re ready.

Natasha Romanoff aka. Black Widow

Natasha Romanoff is a professional. She’s endured psychological conditioning, trained with the deadliest assassins in the world, and can lie so well that even she forgets what’s real. But when you send her something so utterly filthy, in the middle of a high-stakes poker game with some very dangerous people—she nearly loses her composure.

She’s holding a perfect poker face, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette between her fingers (purely for effect). Then, her phone buzzes. She never checks her phone during missions, but for some reason, she does this time.

The second she sees the image, her fingers twitch. She almost fumbles her cigarette. Almost. A single slow breath is all that betrays her before she locks the screen and smirks, adjusting her sunglasses to hide the flicker of heat in her gaze.

Later, after she’s won the game (because of course she has), she finally responds: You must be very confident, sending me something like that. I hope you know what happens when I catch my prey, моя любовь (my love). Because I always catch them.

Bucky Barnes aka. Winter Soldier

Bucky is already always on edge. He spent decades being controlled, his mind fractured, his instincts constantly telling him that danger lurks around every corner. But when his phone vibrates in the middle of a mission briefing and he makes the mistake of checking it—he nearly self-destructs.

He’s sitting next to Sam Wilson, arms crossed, trying to focus on the tactical discussion. Then, out of habit, he glances at his phone. And suddenly? His enhanced heartbeat spikes. His grip on the phone tightens, metal fingers creaking.

Sam immediately notices. “Dude. You okay?” Bucky doesn’t answer. He just exhales deeply, jaw clenching, and locks his phone like it’s personally offended him. “Fine,” he mutters, but the way his throat bobs betrays him.

Later, in the privacy of his room, he leans against the wall, pressing his flesh hand over his face before looking at the image again. Then, he types—slow, deliberate, full of promise: You are playing with fire, doll. And you know I don’t burn alone.

Matthew Murdock aka. Daredevil

Matt has learned to control himself. He has to, considering his senses pick up everything. The heartbeat of a liar, the scent of blood, the whisper of fabric against skin. But when he puts in his earpiece during a stakeout with Elektra and hears you—sultry, teasing, wicked—his composure shatters.

Your voice is a purr, warm and full of amusement, as you describe, in explicit detail, exactly what you want to do to him. Every syllable slides into his ear like a sin, and for the first time in years, Matt Murdock forgets how to breathe.

“Murdock.” Elektra’s voice is unimpressed. “Are you even listening?” Matt clenches his jaw, forcing his expression into something neutral as he slowly removes the earpiece. “Yeah,” he lies, his voice way too tight. “Loud and clear.” But his fingers twitch, betraying him.

Later, alone in his apartment, he plays the message again. And again. Until his own heartbeat is thunderous in his ears. Then, with a slow smirk, he records his reply—his voice low, gravelly, barely more than a rasp: Angel, you have no idea what you’ve just done. And I promise—you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.

Frank Castle aka. The Punisher

Frank Castle does not fluster. He’s a man who’s seen the worst of the world, a soldier who has lost everything. He does not get distracted. But when he’s sitting in the middle of a grimy bar, brooding over a whiskey, and his phone vibrates—everything stops.

He checks it absently, expecting intel from Micro or maybe a warning from Daredevil. But instead, he gets you. And just like that, his grip on the glass tightens. His jaw locks. His entire body tenses, muscles coiled, because you have just sent him something so utterly indecent that he has to set his whiskey down before he crushes the glass.

The bartender notices. “You good, man?” Frank barely glances up, his fingers white-knuckled around his phone. “Fine,” he mutters, voice rough. He shoves his phone back in his pocket and downs the rest of his drink in one go.

Later, in the dead of night, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. He exhales, rubbing a hand over his face, before sending a single message: You think you’re real cute, huh? Yeah. Keep that same energy when I get home. See if you’re still smirking when I’ve got my hands on you.

Marc Spector aka. Moon Knight

Marc has lived multiple lives. A mercenary. A vigilante. A fist of vengeance. But the moment his phone vibrates in the middle of a stakeout, and he sees you—he nearly blows his own cover.

He’s perched on a rooftop, watching a weapons deal go down, his mind sharp and focused. Then, out of habit, he checks his phone. His breath hitches. His grip tightens around the device, and he has to physically restrain himself from groaning. Khonshu’s voice rumbles in his mind: "Your mortal desires are distracting, Spector." Marc grits his teeth. "Yeah, no shit."

“Something wrong?” Jake’s voice purrs from inside his head, amused. “She send you something nice, hermano?” Marc rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply before locking his phone. “Mind your damn business.” But his pulse is thundering.

Later, back at his apartment, he leans against the wall, staring at the image before typing: You have no idea what you’ve just done. Hope you’re home. Hope you’re ready.

Johnny Storm aka. Human Torch

Johnny Storm is used to attention. He thrives on it. He’s a celebrity, a hero, a walking flame. But when you send him something scandalous in the middle of a live television interview, even he isn’t ready for it.

He’s laughing, flashing his signature cocky grin at the camera, when his phone buzzes. He checks it without thinking—because hey, it might be Sue yelling at him again—but instead, it’s you. In the filthiest pose imaginable.

Johnny visibly chokes. His entire body tenses. For the first time ever, he forgets what he was saying. The interviewer blinks. “Uh… Johnny?” His brain short-circuits. His face heats—literally. The tips of his ears ignite before he clenches his fists and forces himself to not spontaneously combust on live television.

The second the interview is over, he’s sprinting to his dressing room, slamming the door shut and typing frantically: Ohhh, you are in trouble. You’re really trying to set me on fire, huh? Hope you’re home, babe, ‘cause I’m flying over. Right. Now.

Reed Richards aka. Mister Fantastic

Reed Richards is a genius. His mind is constantly working at speeds beyond human comprehension. But when he’s mid-lecture at a prestigious scientific conference and his phone vibrates—his brilliant mind suddenly goes blank.

He absently checks his phone, half-expecting an alert from the Baxter Building. But instead, it’s you. Wearing almost nothing.

For a solid ten seconds, he is frozen. His eyes slightly widen. His fingers twitch. And then, very slowly, he locks his phone and clears his throat. “Ah—excuse me, esteemed colleagues, but I must—um—attend to an urgent matter.”

Later, he adjusts his glasses, staring at the image with a fascinated, almost scientific appreciation. Then, with methodical precision, he types: You are a very distracting woman. I will be conducting an… in-depth study on you as soon as I return. Expect a thorough examination.

Felicia Hardy aka. Black Cat

Felicia Hardy is a master of seduction. She flusters men for fun. But when she’s in the middle of a high-stakes casino heist, and you send her something utterly indecent, even she loses her composure.

She’s leaning against the bar, sipping an expensive martini, eyes locked on her mark. Then, her phone buzzes. She lazily checks it, expecting an update from her crew. But instead? Instead, she sees you.

Her eyelashes flutter. Her lips part just slightly. And for the first time in years, her poker face cracks. The bartender—oblivious—raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay, miss?” Felicia exhales, smirking as she locks her phone. “Oh, it’s better than okay.”

Later, she lounges on silk sheets, staring at the picture before purring into her phone: You really think you can tease me, kitten? Oh, sweetheart… you just made a very expensive bet. And I never lose.

Stephen Strange aka. Doctor Strange

Stephen Strange is not easily shaken. He’s fought cosmic horrors, bent reality, and wielded power beyond mortal comprehension. But when he’s in the middle of a magical duel with Dormammu, and you send him a sinfully explicit picture—he almost loses.

He’s mid-incantation, floating above the Sanctum’s rooftop, when his phone vibrates. Normally, he’d ignore it—except something in the back of his mind tells him it’s you. He flicks his fingers, glancing at the screen—and immediately regrets it.

His spell stutters. His fingers twitch. The fabric of reality briefly warps. Wong, standing below, yells, “What the hell was that?!” Stephen clenches his jaw, locking his phone immediately before snapping his wrist and repairing the timeline. “Nothing,” he mutters. “Absolutely nothing.”

The moment the battle is over, he retreats into his study, loosening his Cloak, before typing: You dare distract the Sorcerer Supreme? You have no idea what you’ve just unleashed, darling. And I do hope you’re prepared for consequences beyond mortal comprehension.

Namor aka. The Sub-Mariner

Namor is a king. He does not answer to anyone. He has waged war against the surface world, stood against the mightiest heroes, and commands the loyalty of an entire empire. But when he is seated on his throne, discussing politics with his council, and his communicator vibrates—everything else becomes irrelevant.

He glances down, expecting a diplomatic missive. Instead, he is greeted by you—a vision of temptation, captured in a way that only he has the privilege to see. His grip on the communicator tightens, his lips parting slightly. The light of the display reflects in his dark, narrowed eyes.

The council drones on, but Namor hears nothing. His golden gauntlets flex, his knuckles tightening as his jaw sets. A slow, deliberate exhale is all that betrays his reaction. But those closest to him—his most trusted generals—see the flicker of something dangerous in his expression. A storm, barely contained.

Later, as he stands upon his balcony, overlooking the endless ocean, he types a single response: You seek to tempt a king, my love? Then be prepared for the wrath of a god. When next we meet, you will drown in my devotion.

Johnny Blaze aka. Ghost Rider

Johnny Blaze has seen Hell—literally. He has ridden across the desolate highways of damnation, stared into the abyss, and laughed. But when he’s sitting in a biker bar, nursing a whiskey and half-listening to some guy ramble about the Devil, his phone vibrates. And when he checks it—he nearly sets the whole place on fire.

The image of you is burned into his mind, seared into his soul. He sucks in a slow breath through his teeth, his fingers tightening around the glass. His knuckles go white. Somewhere deep inside, the Spirit of Vengeance chuckles.

“Something wrong, Blaze?” One of the other bikers eyes him warily. Johnny forces a smirk, setting his whiskey down before he crushes the glass in his grip. “Nah,” he rasps, his voice a little too rough. “Just realized I got… unfinished business to take care of.”

Later, on his Hellfire-coated bike, he sends a text: You got a real bad habit of making me wanna sin, sweetheart. And I promise—I’ll make sure you repent. Over. And over.

Eddie Brock & Venom aka. Venom

Eddie Brock has been through hell. He’s fought monsters, been one himself, lost everything, and still kept going. But nothing—not a damn thing—could prepare him for the absolute carnage of getting that picture from you in the middle of a crowded subway.

He’s scrolling through his phone absentmindedly, Venom muttering in his head about wanting tater tots, when the image loads. For a solid five seconds, he is completely still. Then—

“Eddie.” Venom’s voice rumbles, amused. “Your mate is very… bold. We approve.” Eddie, red-faced, slams his phone against his chest like that’ll somehow erase what just happened. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, eyes darting around to make sure no one saw. A teenager across from him raises an eyebrow.

Later, when he’s alone, he finally lets himself look at the picture again. A slow, predatory grin spreads across his face as he types back: Oh, you think you’re being cute, huh? Yeah. Just wait till I get my hands on you. Hell, maybe we’ll even let Venom have a little fun, too.

T’Challa aka. Black Panther

T’Challa is a king, a warrior, a legend. His mind is a fortress, his will unshakable. But when he is seated in the royal palace of Wakanda, surrounded by dignitaries, and his Kimoyo Beads alert him to a personal message—his focus wavers.

He allows himself a discreet glance. And in that moment? His heart skips a single beat. His fingers—steady even in the heat of battle—tighten just slightly around his beads. His expression does not change. But to those who know him well—Okoye, Shuri—they notice the subtlest flicker of something dangerous in his eyes.

Shuri smirks. “Brother,” she murmurs, leaning in. “You look… distracted.” T’Challa exhales deeply, locking the message with a casual flick of his fingers. “I am merely… anticipating a conversation.”

Later, when he is alone, he reviews the picture once more, fingers grazing his jaw before he types: You are testing my patience, beloved. And you know I am a man of great discipline. But for you? I am willing to break my own rules. Expect me soon.

Elektra Natchios aka. Elektra

Elektra Natchios does not fluster. She has slit the throats of kings, danced on the edge of oblivion, and played cat-and-mouse with death itself. But when she is sharpening her sai on the rooftop of a New York high-rise and her phone buzzes—her grip falters.

The blade nicks her glove. Barely. But it happens. Her lips part in a slow, dangerous smirk as she tilts the phone toward the moonlight, drinking in the absolute audacity of your message.

“Something amusing?” A voice—a rival assassin, lurking in the shadows. Elektra does not answer. She merely tucks her phone away, standing smoothly, her stance lethal. “Yes,” she purrs. “Something… very amusing.”

Later, as she leans against the window of her penthouse, she finally sends a reply: You are so very reckless, my love. And I do enjoy breaking reckless little things.

148 notes · View notes

artyandink · 3 days ago

Text

𝐄.𝐓 — 𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋.ᐟ

Steve was continually punching the, well, the punching bag— he wasn’t really a kicker, so the punching bag would have to suffer from his fists. He’d barely had a year to adjust, figuring out what phones were, trying to find out what happened after the war and how America finally has a black President.

Times change.

When the punching bag went flying to the other side of the room, he sighed— not again. Grabbing the bag, he dragged it like it was a paperweight over to the ‘garbage pile’ of other bags and picked up a new one, stringing it up by the chain. At this point, he’d destroyed at least five, and counting, with how long his warm up was going— he’d only been going for three hours.

“Should I be worried?” You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe and wiggling your fingers with a grin. “You’re destroying those punching bags like it’s a wet sheet of paper.” Something about you always seemed to calm him down, so yes, he deflated again, sighing and grabbing his sweat towel, dabbing his neck. In ‘45, that sweat towel would be the target of ladies everywhere. “If it was Director Fury instead of me, he’d schedule you for a psych eval.”

“Should I be glad it ain’t Director Fury?” He replied in a sarcastic-ass drawl— he was an old man who’s woken up from a practical cry o freeze, he’s allowed to be a little bitchy.

But all you did was laugh— fuckin’ laugh, opening the case file you had and flicking through. “Yeah, he’s a little less courteous than your girl, here.” You cleared your throat, flicking your eyes up. “Alright, gloomy Gus, I’d love to handle whatever this big hunk’a anger is, but we’ve quite literally got an extra-terrestrial on our hands.”

Ok, first a world that looks like it’s been built by Howard Stark, second of all an extra terrestrial. Steve’s brain was going nuts.

“Norse mythology and the aforementioned self absorbed dick call him the god of mischief, Loki.” You lifted up a picture of the one remaining snapshots of the camera. “He’s tall, dark, and a big cup of trouble. He’s taken over the mind of a SHIELD agent with a magic sceptre and probably plans on world domination, judging by how he ain’t a friendly.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “There’s only one God, ma’am.”

“Ugh, don’t call me ma’am, makes me feel old.” You grinned, then handed him a file titled ‘AVENGERS INITIATIVE’. “The director designed it. Getting extraordinary individuals together to fight a global threat.”

Steve’s eyebrow raised so high it almost disappeared through his hairline, scoffing a little as he looked at the file. “And you think I’m an extraordinary individual?”

“You’re the ‘man out of time’, Steve. Not many people can survive a seventy year long cryo freeze in a lake.” You replied casually, then gestured to the file lazily. “My number’s in there. Call me when you make up your mind.”

As you turned to go, Steve blurted out the first question that came to mind. “If I’m the ‘man out of time’, what do they call you?”

You turned around, soft smirk playing on your lips as you considered the question. “Well, the people who’ve seen me for half a second, they call me the ‘woman through history’. But not many people have seen me until now.”

Later, Steve was staring in contemplation at the file, brows furrowed, trying to make a decision. He could be getting wrapped up in a war he was unequipped to fight, or he could be making the best decision of his life and getting involved with like-minded and bodied people. Eh, what’s the harm?

He picked up the new fangled phone you’d taught him how to use, finding that call app and dialling the number you’d written on the inside of the case file.

“Hey, River? I’m in.”

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers #captain america x you #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america fluff #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers smut #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x super soldier!reader

94 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days ago

Text

Look, Don't Touch 5

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, stalking, breaking and entering, possible blood and violence, and femcel energy. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You get bored of watching and that makes you careless. (dark!reader)

Characters: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes

Note: mondayyyyyy

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖

You blow a raspberry as you stare at the shadows on the wall. You can hear them. Mostly Bucky rumbling on with whatever excuses he has for the mess he’s made. Steve’s a hero, sure, he has his code, and you don’t presume to know his opinions, that’s very parasocial, but you don’t think he’d approve of all this.

You narrow your eyes as you ponder on that. Steve Rogers. Captain America. The golden boy. Hmmm.

“Someone,” you make your voice willowy as you call out, “please,” you sniff deeply, “can you help me? Please? I’m in a lot of pain.”

Yellow light streams down the hall as a door opens. Bucky snarls, “don’t” but the footsteps elude him. Steve comes out into the glow of the entry way and flips on the switch in the front room. He looks at you with barely concealed confusion.

You swallow blood and spit and cough. You can’t help but smile as fuzziness pulses through you. You’ve sat in crowded cafes, hidden, watching him. You’ve had close brushes with him, but this is different. You’re in his space and he sees you. Also, you are naked.

“Cap?” You bat your lashes and squeeze out some tears. “Please, help me. He did this to me.”

He stops a foot from you and stares. You gaze back at him; light-headed. It could be the concussion or his presence but you’re floating. You blink and try to latch onto the act. You’re losing it here.

“Steve--”

“You broke in?” He asks.

Your forehead crinkles and you look at your lap. You exhale.

“I’m homeless. I just... I needed somewhere to stay and I wasn’t going to take anything--”

“Bull. Shit.” Bucky enters and grabs the notebook from behind the couch. He struts over to Steve and slaps it against his chest. “It’s all in here.”

Your eyes dart between them. You’re sitting there, bloodied in a chair, you definitely aren’t the perpetrator here.

“I don’t know where that came from. It’s not mine. It’s all a mistake,” you snivel and cough again, this time letting the blood dribble out. “Please...”

Steve looks down at the notebook. Bucky lets go and marches around him. He swipes up your phone.

“She has videos of you. Don’t listen to her. Steve. How long have you known me?”

Steve frowns and slowly peels his eyes away from you. He opens the notebook. You deflate and leans back. Well, you tried.

He paces as he reads then stops and sits. He curls his shoulders as he leans forward and squints at your writing. He turns the page, then another. Bucky stands behind him, arms crossed, chest puffed up, victorious.

Steve sits up and puts the book on the cushion. “Jesus, Buck, why didn’t you call the police?”

“We both know what they do with these cases,” Bucky counters. “Steve, you have to deal with this.”

“How?” He stands and spins around. “You want me to torture her? Kill her?”

Bucky sighs and clucks. “She’s a maniac. This isn’t the first time--”

You stare at Steve’s back, his shoulders, his perfectly forged figure. You clench and bite your lip. Here you are, tired up, at his mercy. You think about the videos, those nights watching from the roof, him and those modelesque puppets.

“Cap,” you pipe up. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

He flinches then faces you. You tilt your head and wink, wiggling in the seat. Fuck any sense, you’re right there in front of him. You can die happy.

He brings his hand just below his nose and drags it over his mouth and jaw. He heaves and shakes his head. You see the doubt needling in his forehead, the tension bulging in that vein along his neck.

“It’s true. I’ve been watching you. I have seen everything. And I loved it,” you babble. “The way you toss those girls around. You’re so rough, your so... mpph,” you moan. “Steve, you can do all of that and more with me and I’ll beg for more. I’ll let you do things those girls would cry about.”

“Fucking christ,” Bucky exclaims. “See, Steve, I told you--”

“And what were you about to do when I walked in?” He spins back to his partner-in-crime. Literally. At this point, Steve is an accessory.

Bucky huffs, “look. I’ve been here for days, keeping her under control, for you. I’m covering your ass. If I hadn’t caught her--”

“What? Look at her? What could she do?”

“I wouldn’t ever hurt you, Captain,” you avow.

“Shut up!” Bucky barks. “Steve.”

“We gotta let her go.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. You’ve done enough. I think she gets it.”

“Does she?” Bucky stomps around. “You untie her right now and she’s going straight for you.”

“I’ll be on my knees,” you purr.

“She has a whole set-up, Steve. She can get in here. That means she can get a lot of places. She has videos, I don’t know that they’re all here. That they aren’t stored somewhere waiting to be sent out across the internet. We let her walk and she will hurt you in other ways.”

Steve rolls his shoulders, “I don’t know. I don’t know,” he throws his hands up. “Bucky, what’s wrong with you? Why—I can’t think. I can’t--” He stops and peeks at you again. “Give her some clothes at least. Clean her up.”

“Thank you, Captain,” you preen.

“I’m going to break your goddamn jaw,” Bucky snarls.

“No, no more hurting her,” Steve jabs his finger in his face. “Get her a shirt or something and... let her lay down. I gotta... I need to sleep, Bucky.” He looks around and tuts. “Look at this place.”

“Fine,” Bucky grits his teeth and glares at you. “I’ll clean it up. All of it.”

“I mean it. No more,” Steve orders.

“That’s right, sergeant, be a good little puppy and listen to your captain,” you taunt.

Steve twitches and looks over his shoulder. His eyes slit and he pokes his tongue in his cheek. “Right. Everyone get some sleep and we’ll figure it out. Tomorrow.”

You wait until Steve is gone before you cackle. Bucky shakes his head. You grin and wiggle on the seat, “you said you’d do your job like a good boy.”

“You are fucked.”

“You were close but no,” you pout mockingly. “And I missed out on a few pathetic seconds of winter dick, mmm, sad.”

“You don’t stop.”

“It’s been two days and you don’t get it,” you sneer.

“I wasn’t going to--”

“You were going to.” You insists. You peer past him, leaning as far as you can, “I think he likes me.”

“Pfft, what the fuck makes you think that?”

“You didn’t see how he looks at me.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure, he was all googly eyed--”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I don’t want that white picket fence, I just want a piece.” You squirm thirstily. “Yeah, woo, just a taste.”

Bucky tisks and waves you off. He stomps out and returns with a grey shirt. It’s Steve’s. You’re giddy at the thought of wearing his clothing. Bucky gets you out of the chair and pulls it over your head. He wipes your face gruffly and gives you water to rinse out your mouth. He bends you over the sink as you do to keep you from spitting it at him.

He hauls you back and walks you to the sofa. He shoves you down so you bounce. You turn to look over your shoulder at the end of the hallway. He snaps his fingers and growls.

“I’m watching you all night so don’t fucking try it,” he jeers.

“He said he wants sleep,” you face him again. “I only take captain’s orders, sergeant.”

You push your shoulders up then lower yourself onto your side. You nestle in and hum. You close your eyes and pull a pillow under your head.

“That’s much better,” you sigh.

📷

You sleep. Not well. But you sleep. Your guard dog is back on his leash and waiting for the captain to let him off. He might be disappointed.

As the sun beams over you, you remain languid on the cushions. The idiot is in the kitchen, snapping cupboards, sighing over the grind of the coffee maker. You're perfectly content to wait and see. This is exciting. Your regret is chipping away little by little.

How long did you spend in the shadows? Watching? Waiting for something but you just couldn't accept what. Now you know.

Against all odds, against every effort, you wove your way into Steve's life. It's not ideal but you're not a romantic. It just feels good to be acknowledged.

You sit up as you hear footsteps down the hall. He's coming. You're almost giddy. Like one of those fan girls lined up at the cons making those icons pose in the most cringe photos. Oof.

Steve glances at you but doesn't speak. He continues onto the kitchen. Bucky meets him in the doorway.

"Morning," the latter greets.

Steve exhales heavily, "I gotta talk to her."

"Sure."

"Alone," he insists.

Your heart leaps. You and Steve alone? Ooh. You'll be happy just for the break from the winter bummer.

"Steve," Bucky says, "you really shouldn't--"

"I think I have the right to get the truth from her. Not you."

"Steve," Bucky pleads a second time.

"How long have we know each other? Trust that I know what I'm doing," Steve argues.

"It isn't you I'm worried about."

A huff and a click of his tongue is Bucky's surrender. You turn yourself straight and sit up on the sofa. You wait patiently.

"Guess I'll go for a run," Bucky mutters.

"Sure, that works," Steve agrees.

You’re calm. It’s not easy. After days being tied up, you’re already restless but the prospect of having your moment. That’s enough to make you jitter.

Bucky stomps out and sends you a glower. You resist a smile and return only a yawn. He rolls his eyes and keeps going. Steve lingers in the kitchen, biding his time. You wonder if he’s scared. That would be hilarious.

The air thickens and you look out the windows. Your heart is racing. You keep your gaze toward the city. You don’t want to embarrass yourself.

“Going,” Bucky calls and you ignore the heat of his glare. The door slams and he’s gone.

You wait. Finally, you sense him. You look at Steve as he stands in the archway to the kitchen. He steps out and crosses the room. He rounds the mess on the floor and puts a mug next to your elbow.

“Don’t know if you drink coffee,” he says.

He grabs a throw blanket from the chest near the window and throws it over you.

“Thank you, Captain,” you mewl and stare at him. He swallows tightly and backs up. He crosses his arms and sighs. He brings a hand up to rub his cheek.

“I saw the videos.”

You don’t flinch. You just nod. He squints.

“You’re not going to deny it?”

“Well, there’s no point, right?” You shrug. “Your buddy can hear my heart, you must be able to.”

“Sure, uh,” he taps his fingers against his neck.

“You don’t have to be shy,” you slide forward on the seat and he drops his arms. You show your palms. “I’m not going to do anything. Promise. Really, Steve.” You clutch your hands together, almost in a prayer. “I will do anything you want. I'll let you do anything you want. Even if it’s... you know, the end.”

He blanches and shakes his head. He pinches his nose. He turns his back to you.

“You don’t have to feel bad,” you breathe. His shoulders are perfectly formed, and his waist... he is truly a super soldier. Not like that other one. Ew, why are you thinking of Bucky? “Just the fact you know about me, I can die happy--”

“You really think I would kill you?” He hisses and faces you. “I’m an avenger.”

“You are but I've also seen how you treat woman. I remember that little one you choked. Thank god she woke up, right?”

“Stop,” he demands. You obey eagerly and seal your lips. “I didn’t find that video.”

“Yeah, I didn’t get that one,” you lean on the armrest and pick at the cuff still on your wrist. “Wait... Steve? You think I would do something like that? Blackmail you? Expose you?”

“Well, you did watch me...”

“I did but not because—not to do that,” you teeter on the edge of the couch. “Steve, I worship you. I wanted to be the one you crushed into these cushions.”

You slither onto the floor and land on your knees. The blanket falls away from you. You bend forward and put your hands on the floor. You crawl to him slowly.

“I would do anything for you. Anything. And you don’t have to hold back. I can take it all.” You sit on your heels and look up at him. You know you’re not beauty, you’re nothing special, but you’re what he needs. You’re malleable. Disposable. “Please, you can put it anywhere you want.”

He combs his hands through his hair then rubs his eyes. He looks down at you. He pushes his shoulder wide and steps back. He squats down to come level with you. You chew your lip and wiggle as your core thrums.

“I saw your videos. Do you want to see mine?” He asks evenly.

You blink, “videos?”

He looks you up and down and his cheek ticks. He stands and strides away. Now that’s unexpected.

He disappears. You glance at the door. You could go. You could make a run for it. You don’t want to.

He returns with his phone in hand. He stands before you again as he flicks his finger over the screen. He turns it and extends it down to you. You strain to see it.

Of course, with all the security, he has this whole place cammed up. You didn’t think to check. You figured hacking would be much more trouble than doing everything yourself. And riskier. None of that matters now.

You watch the screen. You can tell exactly where the camera’s located. Bucky has you in the tub, working the hose between your legs as you growl and squirm. You can’t hear anything but you remember it all so clearly. You tilt your head then look up at Steve.

He’s smiling.

“You’re right, sweetheart. I can use you.” He blacks out the screen and puts the phone in his pocket. He bends and cups your chin, angling your head further back. “And I will.”

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #dark steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark!steve rogers #dark!bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #look don't touch #marvel #mcu #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

121 notes · View notes

ddejavvu · 5 hours ago

Note

Need steve rogers to show off his strength/muscles and fuck me standing up

i don't even think he registers it at the time as something most people can't do. he just does it because he knows he can and then when you ramble breathlessly about how hot it is that he's got you held up like it's nothing he's pressing kiss after kiss to your mouth and feeling your legs squeeze his waist. it's effort, sure, but less for him than it would be for someone else, and he's happy to show off for you if it means you spasm around him like that when you cum because he's hitting it so deep inside of you.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #captain america x reader #captain america smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine

64 notes · View notes

harbourslighthouse · 3 hours ago

Text

i just—whuaa? words? to describe? this softness?

(ignore me, thorne, lol. i'm just re-reading and smashing that reblog button like my life depends on it).

dusky pink

Steve knows he's lucky to have you in his life. He knows he's incredibly lucky to be with you. But it isn’t until he sees you, lost in a quiet, simple moment, that he truly understands just how lucky he is.

tags: steve rogers x you; established relationship; gentle romance; domestic fluff; kissing; steve rogers is an artist, he's a romantic, but most importantly, steve rogers is a total goner for you; finding beauty in mundanity.

warnings: none except this that the reader's hair is long enough to be tied into a bun. no gendered language used for the reader.

word count: 574.

a/n: pictures used in header are from pinterest. dividers used here are by @inklore. mcu and its characters are not mine. likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!! hope you'll enjoy reading this! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

The living room is wrapped in stillness, save for the soft clack of your fingers on the laptop keys and the faint hum of distant traffic outside. Steve sits slouched on the couch, thumb idly scrolling his phone, his mind half-absent as he flips through post after post he doesn’t care about. He barely notices when his hand lowers slightly, his gaze drifting up and—

He sees you.

You’re seated on the carpet, cross-legged in front of the coffee table, the glow of the overhead light spilling down like a halo. It hits the curve of your cheekbone, the soft slope of your nose, the tiny frown that’s pulled your brows together as you stare intently at the screen. There’s a strand of hair falling loose from your haphazard bun, one you’ve probably shoved up without thought, and you’re dressed in one of his old shirts—thin and worn, slipping lazily off your shoulder like it belongs there—paired with baggy shorts that swallow you whole. It’s the most mundane of moments, the kind most people would overlook, but Steve feels like his heart stops.

You’re not posed or polished; there’s nothing deliberate about you sitting there, but it’s everything. The kind of beauty he doesn’t have words for—the kind that stirs something deep in his chest. Real. Raw and unfiltered, the way morning sunlight feels when it hits a canvas just right. How many times has he tried to capture beauty like this, only to realize it can’t be replicated? You—lost in thought, unaware of him watching—are art in motion.

Before he knows what he’s doing, Steve sets his phone aside and slides off the couch to the carpet beside you. You’re so focused, brow furrowing tighter, that you don’t notice him until he’s right there, tucking that stray strand of hair gently behind your ear.

You startle, blinking up at him, confusion softening your features. “Steve?”

He doesn’t say anything at first, his gaze lingering on you like you’re the only thing in the room that matters. Then, without thinking, his hand cradles your chin, his thumb brushing tenderly along your jaw as he leans in and presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft, reverent—like he’s afraid to startle you again, like the moment itself is fragile. His lips linger for a heartbeat longer than necessary, and when he finally pulls back, there’s a faint flush on your cheeks, your brows knitting in the most adorably puzzled way.

“Not that I mind,” you mumble, voice small and sweet, “but… what brought that on?”

Steve smiles softly, brushing his thumb over your cheek as though to smooth away your frown. “You,” he says simply, voice low and steady—like he’s telling you a secret.

Your brows crease again, as though you don’t quite understand, but the confusion is already giving way to a shy, fluttering smile tugging at your lips. You open your mouth to say something—maybe to question him again—but before you can, Steve’s hand shifts to the back of your neck, pulling you into him once more.

This kiss is deeper, surer—his lips moving slowly, thoroughly, as though he’s memorizing the feel of you. There’s no rush, no urgency; just Steve pouring everything he can’t put into words into the press of his mouth against yours. And as he holds you there, close and safe, all he can think is how lucky he is—how impossibly lucky he is—that you’re his to love.

if you've enjoyed this fic and would like to be tagged in my future fanfics, please drop an ask into my inbox! thank you so much for reading this!! <333

[minors and ageless blogs will not be tagged in the nsfw fics, by the way! i'm sorry!!]

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #captain america x reader #captain america x you

534 notes · View notes

reginaphalangelobster125 · 19 hours ago

Text

Sweetheart

Steve Rogers x Reader feat. Avengers

Summary: A simple game slowly leads to a lifetime.

Warnings: a few swear words, some very hot scenes, fluffity fluff, mutual pining, mentions of nomad Steve specifically his hair and beard (yes! that's a warning), reader wearing Steve's hoodie (also a warning, gets me every time, and yes I did write a whole fic about it Hoodie)

Word Count: 3.5k

Notes: I wrote this with a female reader in mind but I think it works for any gender, there are no pronouns used and no use of Y/n, Steve calls reader sweetheart.

Everyone was drinking and having a good time. Tony remembered something he had seen earlier in the day and decided now was the best time to bring it up.

"Y-You know it's weird how fasc-cinated the public is with us" He slurred, waving his scotch around and spilling it slightly.

"How's that, Tones?" You questioned while blinking abnormally fast.

"I saw a-a thhhing on my phone, said vote on each 'venger's best look"

"Like Nat's 'I'm gonna kill you so bad' look?"

"No, ap-pearanceses"

"Ooooh, that's kinda strange, isn't it?"

"What?" Stephen asked as he flung his head up, only hearing the word 'strange'.

"Not you, Dr Otter" You and Tony replied at the same time followed by a small exclamation of acknowledgement.

"It's like a quiz" Tony continued.

"What?" Clint asked.

"The thing I was just talking about"

"Oh, right. A quiz?"

"Yeah, wanna do it?"

"I don't know, I'm not good on tests"

"It's not- It's opinions, not right or wrong"

"Okay, shoot"

Tony cast his phone to the large TV in front of everyone and started the quiz.

"What is the le-legendary genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, Tony Stark himself, 's best look?" He read off the screen.

"You always look pretty much the same" Nat stated.

"First one, little scruffy" Steve said simply.

"Yeah, his hair's cute when it's floppy, like you could run a hand through it and it'd still look adorable" You agreed.

"Adorable? Drunk you is pretty honest, this is gonna be fun" Tony smirked "Natasha Romanoff, the fierce woman of the avengers"

"Oh God" She sighed.

"The half red half blonde, super cute, especially in a braid" You smiled at her.

"I'd have to agree" Bruce added.

"Next, The God of Thunder and long hair, what's Thor's best look?"

"Ooh, the short one!" You exclaimed.

"How dare you?! That was not consensual!" Thor boomed.

"Sorry sweetie, but you've got to admit, it was hot"

"Pfft!" Loki laughed out.

"Did you just go pfft? You don't pfft" Bruce turned to him.

"My brother is not that hot"

"I think Happy's shirt would beg to differ" You counter.

"What about your mug?"

"I don't know what you are referring to"

"The mug that has 'This meeting would be a lot better if one of you were Loki' written across it"

"Oh, that mug. That and Happy's shirt were gag gifts from Tony, like Cap's Cap cap"

"Pardon?"

"Tony got Steve a cap with his Captain America logo on it, so it's Cap's Cap cap"

"You mortals are pointlessly confusing"

"Alright next question, speaking of Gods, Loki the God of Mischief and sexiness has great hair as everyone knows but what look suits him best?"

"I am beginning to like this quiz after all"

"Christmas tree" Nat states blankly.

"I am not beginning to like this. What do you mean Christmas tree?!"

"In New York, your hair had the outline of a Christmas tree. Don't look at me like that, they put tinsel in it" She points to you and Sam.

"ThAt WaS yOu?!"

"He dared me!"

"You said dare me to put tinsel in Loki's hair, I didn't do shit"

"Until I had the tinsel"

"Well it was already there"

"By the great heavenly kingdom of Valhalla I swear I will-"

"Tony, why don't we just move onto the next question?" Steve tried to diffuse the situation before Loki turned everyone into frogs, again.

"The question we've all been waiting for, the most gorgeous avenger, Bucky Barnes!"

"He's the most gorgeous?" Nat asked, a twinge of jealously in her tone.

"You're way prettier than Bucky" You reassured her.

"Hey?" Bucky lightly hit your arm.

"She is" You shrugged.

"Stevie, who's prettier?" Bucky looked to his friend.

"I don't want to choose between my friends"

"Come on, Captain"

"Uh, um.....neither"

"What?" They both blurted out in shock.

"You are" He said softly as he looked into your eyes.

"Th-thank you" You blushed.

"Of course he picked you" Bucky grumbled.

"And last but certainly not least, the very handsome face of the Avengers, Steve Rogers"

"Nomad Steve" You spoke a little too quickly.

"Really?" He asked you.

"Uh-yeah"

"Oh I toootally agree" Sam responded "That slightly long hair, a little unkept"

"And that beard" Bucky agreed.

"And the way he looks like he could just pin you up against a wall and-" You saw everyone looking at you and Steve's face covered in a bright red blush "I'm oversharring again, aren't I?"

"Yes" Bruce said, sitting in the corner, just a little mortified.

"I think that's enough for the night, I'm going to bed" You almost beckon from halfway down the hall already.

You thought that would be the end of the topic, after a while you didn't really think of it at all. Not long after, Steve had to go on a mission and boy did he have a surprise for you when he got back. The mission lasted about a month and you were really beginning to miss him. One evening you opened the door to your room and felt something behind you, someone. They pushed you into your room and slammed the door shut, they spun you around and you saw that it was Steve. You lit up instantly by just seeing his face, he had grown his beard back and his hair was a little messy and longer. Just as you were about to open your mouth to compliment him on the new-old look he pushed you against the wall, no, he pinned you against the wall. He held your wrists tight by your sides, you saw the look of desire in his dark clouded eyes. Before you knew it his lips were on yours, moving fiercely and hastily, full of passion and lust. As he pulled away he bit your bottom lip lightly, causing you to let out a soft whimper. The sound almost making him drop his tough exterior.

"This what you wanted?" His voice was deep and rough, making your body quiver.

"God yes" You breathed out shakily.

He transferred his grip on your wrists to your waist. He lifted you like you were nothing, like you weighed less than a feather. You wrapped your legs around his hips and grasped his neck in your hands, clinging on and keeping him close. He held you up against the wall as he continued kissing you roughly, deeply. You could feel your stomach aching, your whole body was aching, for him. He could feel the heat radiating off you as he trail open mouthed kisses down your jaw and it was addictive. You tilted your head back and to the side, giving him better access to your neck. He found that soft spot under your ear that made you moan so sweetly and his lips latched on. He sucked and bit marks that were sure to turn bright purple and he ran his tongue back over the spot gently, soothing your inflamed skin.

He kept up this pace, kissing and sucking and biting and licking all over your neck and upper chest. You tugged on his hair, rough enough that it made him bite your shoulder, hard. The sensation of his teeth sinking that far into you made you throw your head back even further and let out an almost primal, animalistic moan that just spurred him on all the more.

His fingers dug into your hips, certain to leave bruises you would admire for days. He pulled you off the wall and sat you on your dresser.

"Y-you know" You began, your words near breathy moans at this point "The bed's over there"

"Soon. First I want you on every surface possible"

His tone mixed with his words made your breath hitch, you could've sworn your heart stopped for just a moment. One of his hands came up and ripped your shirt off. He tossed it to the side and you toyed with the hem of his. You pulled it up slowly, running your fingers over the taught muscles of his body. You pulled the shirt over his head and when his hands returned to you they were on your thighs. His lips flew down your neck and to your chest. He kissed every inch of you within his reach, the feel of him all over you, hot and wet. He undid the top button of your pants and lifted you again. Your hands moved from his neck and discarded your pants on the floor. He carried you to the couch and laid you down. He hovered over you and you scrambled for his belt.

"Uh uh, not yet" The teasing in his tone made you squirm under him.

"Well that's not very fair is it?"

"Life's not fair sweetheart"

He continued his mission, his mouth was all over you. He moved down the couch, sitting between your legs. It was quite a sight, Steve Rogers, Captain America, America's golden boy, situated between your legs, looking up at you with the gaze of a starved animal. He took one of your legs, started at your ankle and kissed his way down. The contrast between your silky smooth skin and his rough scratchy beard made you grateful to be alive. He moved tantalisingly slow, never breaking eye contact for a second. It was like your eyes were tethered to stare at each other forever and you wouldn't have it any other way. You looked down past your heaving chest to see your knee slung over his shoulder. His chest was pressed up into the back of your thigh, pushing your muscles just right. His lips went so low, so close, so far down your inner thigh and he pulled away. The bastard pulled away. You never would have thought he'd be a tease. He did the same to your other leg, starting at the ankle and working his way almost all the way down. He laid down, his shoulders under both of your legs and he got so close. He kissed your lower stomach and he moved down. Finally, you thought. He kissed over the top of your underwear, taking the waist band in his teeth, pulling just a few inches away and releasing it, flicking against your body. He pulled even further away, devastating you.

"Steve" You whined "What the fuck are you doing?"

"Watch out or I'll have to put that dirty mouth of yours to good use"

"Please do"

He chuckled low, the sound reverberating through you and sending shivers down your spine. You kissed him again, this time soft and sweet, full of the love you had been hiding for so long.

He pulled away and stared down at you, at your beautiful face. He meant what he said that day, he thought you were beautiful, so beautiful it hurt. It hurt when he saw you get all dressed up for galas and charity events in those fancy clothes that fit your body so well. Or when you'd go out to clubs with Nat and Sam, those two always dragged you out, trying to get you to meet someone but you were never interested. For so long it had only been Steve. Wearing something outrageously short for the '40s like Steve was used to, but you looked amazing, you looked amazing in anything. He remembered the first time you trained together and you wore skin tight workout gear, he barely made it through the hour. But his favourite, his absolute favourite, was when you had just woken up. When your hair was all messy and your eyes were only half open. You'd say good morning in a raspy voice full of sleep and you'd smile at him so softly he thought he'd melt. All he wanted was to see that smile and hear that voice every morning for the rest of his life. One day was just, he didn't know quite what. It was an oddly chilly morning for that time of year and all of your winter clothes were packed away. You looked through the freshly washed laundry you had done the day before and you found a blue hoodie, it looked so comfortable and soft and most importantly warm. You pulled it on over your head and it fell halfway down your thighs, just covering the pyjama shorts you were wearing. You walked down the hall and into the kitchen like you did every morning. You greeted Steve and he greeted you back before noticing what you were wearing. It looked like you were wearing his hoodie, only his hoodie, nothing else. He blinked for a moment, opening and closing his mouth, trying to speak but not knowing what to say. You reached up to grab a mug off the top shelf and the hoodie rose up. He didn't want to look, no that was a lie, he thought he shouldn't look but he couldn't help himself. When he was met with the sight of your shorts you could say he was more than a little disappointed. You turned around and saw him staring at you.

"What?" You laughed "I can't have something in my teeth, I haven't eaten yet"

"I-is that my hoodie?"

"Oh, that's who. I'm sorry, it was in my laundry and I was cold. I can give it back"

"No you look nice. Nice and warm" He only just caught and corrected himself.

"Thanks"

He didn't know it yet but ever since that day, whenever you were feeling sad you wore his hoodie and it comforted you more than anything else.

He brought himself out of his memory haze and back to now, to you. He saw you looking up at him, wondering what he was thinking. He leaned down and whispered into your ear, his breath hot against your skin.

"Sweetheart, you've been so good, it's time for your reward"

He picked you up and you latched onto him once again. This time he finally took you to the bed. He laid you down so soft and gentle like he was handling something so precious, he was. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and his finger trailed down your cheekbone. His hand moved back to cradle your head and his thumb caressed your cheek so lovingly. His usually innocent blue eyes stared into yours, boring into your soul. The two of you truly connected, in a way neither of you had with anyone else, only each other.

You woke up the next morning, in his arms. You couldn't believe you were finally where you had dreamed of being for so long. In fact you actually pinched yourself, just to be sure. You couldn't help but smile even brighter when you looked back up to see him looking down at you. This was one of those moments you'd experienced so many times before. It took you completely out of the moment and you noticed just how pretty he really was. His eyes, full of so much hope and joy matched with pain and sadness. His eyes, full of time, years of time and he wanted to spent the rest of it with you. He laid on his back, his chest rising and falling with his steady breaths. His right hand was snaked around your waist, even in his sleep his grip never faltered. You laid on your left side, your cheek on his chest, snuggled up to him. Your right hand was laying across his body, tracing random patterns slowly.

"Morning" There it was, there was that sweet, soft, raspy voice he had longed for.

"Morning sweetheart"

You giggled slightly at the pet name, your pet name. He called you that because to him, that's what you were. You were so sweet he thought he'd get a cavity. You always did whatever you could for others, sometimes they knew and sometimes they didn't. Like the way you helped Bucky. When he first came to the tower he only had Steve, Tony was still upset with him and after hearing what had just transpired the rest of the team weren't very welcoming. But you were different. You trusted Steve's judgement and you welcomed Bucky. He stayed in Steve's room for a while, still too scared to be alone in a tower full of people who didn't much care for him. You decided the best way to get to know Bucky and hopefully help him was to get to know him in a setting he felt comfortable in. You brought a sleeping bag to Steve's room and explained your thinking. Bucky was offered the bed and the couch but he still chose the floor, so you joined him. Steve was in his room with the door open and you and Bucky were in the small living room attached. He was by Steve's door and you kept you distance, trying not to crowd him by sleeping on the other side of the room. He curled up and faced away from you. You heard him gasp for air as he came out of a nightmare. You slowly approached him and took his flesh hand in both of yours. You were gentle but your grasp was firm, reassuring him that he wasn't in his nightmare. Steve got up and came to the door but you shook your head and he stepped back. He trusted you too and he knew that you had a lot of experience with nightmares, you helped him after all. You slept with Bucky on Steve's floor for a month, until Bucky was ready to go to his own room. You slept on his floor for the first night, then you returned to your own room, next door. Sharing a wall, you were able to hear when he had a nightmare and you always came and sat with him like you did that first night. Thankfully, after some time, the nightmares were a rare occasion for him.

Steve loved how you cared for his friend, for everyone. He was the only one who noticed the small things you did. One of the simplest but kindest being whenever you would go to the grocery store you would buy a box of pop-tarts, a dozen plums, a bag of decaf coffee and a punnet of blueberries. Pop-tarts for Thor because he ate them at an alarming rate, plums for Bucky of course, decaf coffee because it always worried you how much coffee Tony drank, so you would replace it with decaf whenever you had the chance, and blueberries also for Tony, he liked having a snack while he worked and they distracted from the coffee.

There were other little things you'd do that just made Steve fall for you even more. If someone had a tough mission you'd cook their favourite meal for dinner, perfectly, and if their suit was torn you'd sew it up. They didn't ask you to or expect you to but you'd just take it and return it to them, fully mended and cleaned. Whenever you noticed his pencils were getting short or his sketchbook was getting full you'd go to the little store that had the supplies he liked. You wouldn't make a fuss about it, you usually just left a book and a box of pencils on his bedside table. And God, did he love to draw you. The first time he tried he obsessed over it, wanting the sketch to be as perfect as you. After a while it became almost mindless, if he didn't know what to draw he'd find himself drawing you.

He looked down at you now, lying in his arms with a huge smile on your face.

"I love you" It just slipped out, he meant it, he did love you but he didn't want to scare you off. He panicked for a moment when you didn't respond.

"I love you too"

He sighed a huge breath of relief "You know you're everything to me, right?"

"I do now"

You brought your hand up to his cheek, you thumb ghosted over his lips.

"You call me sweetheart"

"I do"

"Why?"

"Because you're so kind and giving, you always put the team first and you're well, sweet. Like with the pop-tarts and plums"

"You're the reason"

"What do you mean?"

"I saw your face when I got you a sketchbook or when I got Bucky plums, you know, small things. I saw the way you looked at me or at least the way I hoped you looked at me and I wanted to see that look again"

"Really?"

"Why else do you think we have plum pies every other week? Or enough Pop-tarts to feed an army, or I guess Thor for a couple weeks"

"You did that just to see me happy when I was watching you?"

"Yeah" You said nervously, hoping he wouldn't think you were quite as pathetic as you felt.

"God, I love you"

He pulled you into a kiss and you could feel his smile against your lips.

Tags:

@impetusofadream @goldfishthegr8 @avengers-official-recruit-agent @goreygirl03 @xenasolos @sparklyturtlefox @rios-sythe @nekoannie-chan @ilovemarvel12 @hayneyney @n3ponen @8812-342 @everyonesfriend @pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @yelldontwhisper @justhereforthememesnangst @lonely-core

28 notes · View notes