#trying to point out roger's voice in different ways

[msweebyness]

Akuma class and Theater kids worst experiences with Bustier?

@imsparky2002 @booksrbetterthanpeople @nerdy-chocomallow

Akuma:

Juleka:

ALLOWED HER TO BE HELD BACK A SECOND TIME. DID YOU SERIOUSLY BELIEVE THAT’S WHAT SHE WANTED?!

Constantly got on her case about her speech impediment. Tells her she’ll never get anywhere in life if she doesn’t learn to be more outgoing, and always puts her on the spot.

Alix:

Constantly gives Alix detention and sends her to the principal’s office when she voices her opinion or points out when Bustier isn’t being fair

Always comparing her grades and general academic performance unfavorably to Jalil’s when he was a student at DuPont, pointing out that she could be a straight-A student like her brother if she tried harder

Nathaniel:

Constantly forgetting to include him in the class roster or send him updates about activities, it usually takes multiple reminders from the rest of the class for her to remember him

She’s confiscated his sketchbook multiple times because “he’s not paying attention in class and needs to be disciplined”

Max:

Pressures him into “helping” some of the more well-off students with their homework, I.e. doing it for them, insisting that needs to be “a good friend” to the people that regularly torment him

Constantly tells him to shush Markov and keep the robot from “distracting” the class, despite Markov rarely making a scene and only speaking up when it’s relevant to the lesson

Mylene:

Recommended to Mme. Winters that she doesn’t give Mylene any leads or prominent roles in the school drama productions, because “her anxiety would impede her performance and the production as a whole”

Pressuring her to keep up her role as the class peacemaker and caretaker, hinting she’s being selfish when she wants to do something for herself

Alya:

While in a conference call with Nadja about a potential school-sponsored internship at the news station, Bustier kept bringing up some of Alya’s earlier, less-accomplished journalism projects and harping on their faults, nearly jeopardizing her chances, despite her having moved past that stage and producing quality work

Whenever Alya chooses NOT to go out and try to film an akuma, either because of important school work or because it could put her life in extreme danger, Bustier practically peer pressures her into doing so anyway, telling her that people rely on her for akuma information

Sabrina:

Let Chloe make Sabrina do her homework for years (there is no way in hell she didn’t know, bull-effing-shit), and got on Sabrina’s case about her own grades slipping

Pressures Sabrina to try and get Roger to be more lenient with the horrible people he arrests, insisting they “just need a caring hand”

Nino:

She’s confiscated his headphones on several of his nonverbal days, which has lead him to nearly have an anxiety attack on several different occasions

On career day, when Nino talked about his aspirations for DJing and filmmaking, she derided the first as “not a real career” and the second as “unrealistic”, leaving him feeling terrible about himself and his goals

Chloe:

Never made her do her own work or punished her for mistreating others, severely stunting both her academic and personal growth

Chastised Chloe for being upset about her mother’s treatment of her, stating that “Audrey is a busy woman and Chloe shouldn’t be so demanding of her”

Marinette:

Constantly shirking her duties off onto her, basically making the girl do her own job, gaslighting her when she tries to say no

Has her organize field trips, manage funding, email parents, file paperwork, etc, not caring about how much it cuts into her personal time

Kim:

Whenever Kim can’t stop fidgeting or is having trouble focusing due to his ADHD, rather than supplying him with any sort of assistance, she sends him out of the class for the remainder of the period, causing him to fall behind in class

When Kim forgot to study for a test due to staying late after futbol practice, Bustier loudly called him out for it in front of the entire class, telling him to get his priorities in order

Rose:

Treats her like she’s made of glass and constantly tries to talk her out of doing activities she enjoys, like performing, because they may “cause her unneeded stress and trigger her condition”

Often criticizes her for her “childish” interests and tells her she needs to grow up and leave her plushies and rainbows behind

Adrien:

Would never listen to him when he told her something made him uncomfortable (Cough, Lila, Cough), pressuring him to keep being the agreeable, high-road-taking boy that “everybody loves”

Constantly chastising him for going against his father, insisting the man “just wants what’s best for him” and Adrien “needs to be a more considerate son”

Ivan:

Constantly sending him out of the classroom and to the principal’s office for little to no reason, for things so much as speaking up in class and her perceiving it as being disrespectful, even if it isn’t

Pressures him into doing all the heavy-lifting for the class, alone, even with Kim’s frequent offers to help

Theater:

Eri:

Once gave her a failing grade on a literature test, even though she’d written all the right answers, because said answers were written in her native Japanese

Criticizes her for “making people uncomfortable” with her dark and gothic demeanor and her theatrical tendencies

Soo-Yeon:

Publicly berated and humiliated him (even more) in front of the entire class when he accidentally tripped over a board and spilled his backpack all over the aisle, saying he “needs to pull his head out of the clouds”

Tries to get him to play down his performance on the basketball court, so that the wealthier students on the team (like Adrien, who was aghast when he heard of this), could shine more

Roxie:

Puts pressure on them to forgive their bitchy ex, saying Roxie could have been a better partner and helped Brie achieve her goals, despite the fact she was completely using Roxie

Treats them in very similar manner to Ivan, harshly criticizing their surly and reserved demeanor, pressuring them to be friendlier and smile more

Petra:

Frequently, if indirectly, makes it clear she feels it’s extremely odd that Petra is being raised by four gay men, even making a somewhat tasteless joke about it once

Constantly sending her to the office for the dress code “as a distraction”, despite their various accessories not being against the rules and no one really cares

Candace:

Puts pressure on Candace to be the model, perfect, can-do-it-all student that everyone believes her to be, adding to the stress she already puts on herself to keep up that image

Pressured her to let Lila on the cheer squad to be “inclusive”, even though the liar only had wanted attention and to flirt with athletes. She even tried to get her to give the girl her position as captain

Staci:

Constantly critiquing her performance in the cheer squad, saying she needs to show more pep and smile more, saying her lack of enthusiasm drags the squad down

Has openly badmouthed her dad and his career for exposing corruption in the Paris political system on his news show, saying all he’s doing is stirring up trouble

Parker:

When she used her military self-defense skills to defuse a fight between two students, without harming them, Bustier chastised her for getting involved and “being violent”, advocating for her suspension

Chastises her for coming off as “aggressive and unfriendly” when she uses the military jargon she grew up around in conversations or in class

Margo:

Forces Margo to write down whatever she wants to say in class, rather than saying it out loud, as she “finds her accent too difficult to comprehend”

Always expects Margo to be kind and helpful, even when she has her own things to do, telling her that that’s what everyone expects of her, to be the caring big sister of the class

Anthony:

Often openly insinuates that he should be more like his parents, cultured, well-kept and polite, a model citizen, and abandon his gothic interests, despite Sylvie and Bradley having no issue with who their son is and loving him regardless

Tries to force him into social situations, despite his obvious discomfort with it, saying that he needs to get used to being around people if he wants to be a good son when his parents bring him to their diplomatic gatherings

Aggie:

Tries to pressure her into reaching out to her deadbeat parents, insisting that she needs to forgive them and offer them another chance, as “they’ve made mistakes but they can be better if you help them”

Similarly to Margo, frequently gets on her case about using Scottish slang and dialects, saying she needs to “be more conscious and considerate” and speak in a way that everyone can understand

Evie:

Pressures her not say anything and “make a fuss” when guys harass or touch her, because it’s “just boys being boys” and she “needs to set a good example”

Even said that “maybe if she wasn’t showing off her curves and chest so much, this wouldn’t happen as often.”

Eloise:

Ignored her when she told the teacher about some of the richer students bullying her into doing their math homework, telling her she “just needed to be a helpful and supportive classmate”

Pressured her into joining the scholastic decathlon time despite her not being comfortable in high-stakes competitive situations, saying she needed to “put her fears aside and do it for the school”

Anais:

Constantly putting pressure on her to live up to their mother’s expectations, and chastising it when she vents about how much it actually stress them out, saying Olive “only wants the best for her child and she should be grateful its mother cares so much”

Pressures them to offer “tutoring” to some of the richer students, despite all that it already has on her plate

Dot:

Has pressured her into not filling out incident reports for small bullying infractions, as is part of her office job, for things done by wealthy students, telling her “she doesn’t want to ruin their future prospects

Constantly piling more and more work onto her already full plate, even things that a student secretary shouldn’t normally have to do, all while praising her for being “so dependable”

Missy:

When Missy made the mistake of telling her about her feelings of self-blame for her mother’s death-in-childbirth, Bustier dismissed these feelings as “silly”, saying she “had no reason to feel that way”

Has actually had her sent to the counselor’s office for her “obvious attitude problem”, and talked about such in front of the entire class

Mona:

Acts incredibly condescending towards her, like the perfect advocate, frequently suggesting they should stick to activities “more her speed”, so they don’t “impede the progress of other students”

Often harshly calls them out in front of the class to pay attention when she starts to drift into her headspace, embarrassing her and ruining their mood for the rest of the day

Ayesha:

Holds her up as a model of positivity and a good attitude, insisting all the other students should be like her, and trying to force her to be cheerful on the rare days she feels sad

Discourages her from putting her cartoons up on the school’s art forum because she thinks they’re too “silly and childish”, despite people greatly enjoying them

Jesse:

Tried to pressure him out of testifying against his father in court, despite all the abuse he suffered from the man, stressing that family is incredibly important and forgiveness is key

Constantly forgetting to supply him with handouts with larger text to make it easier with his monocular vision

Brecken:

Nearly had him suspended for defending his girlfriend from one of the (rich) guys who frequently harasses her. It wasn’t even a fight, he just pushed the guy away from Evie and told him to back off or he would make him

Doesn’t bother supplying him with any help with her curriculum, despite him being dyslexic and it being heavily literature based. She just says he needs to try harder

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

Russ Ballard producing Daltrey's album

1975 Interview

Russ Ballard has something special. Call it professionalism, the sure touch, luck, talent, a mixture of the lot if you like, but everything he's involved in seems to turn out pretty good, even when it's something completely new to him, like record producing.

When he was fourteen, he wrote his first song and sold it to The Shadows after having had the sense to demo it after their style. Having mastered the guitar and scored quite a bit of acclaim for his playing, he turned to keyboards and now nobody hearing him play would think he hadn't been brought up on them. Argent reached the height of their success when he was with them, he gave Colin Blunstone a monster hit with I Don't Believe In Miracles and now Ride A Rock Horse is enjoying considerable favour. Its producer? Russ Ballard! The man, wearing his customary shades, exudes an air of quiet confidence. He can afford to. He's well respected as a musician and as a writer and he's now in a position many people could envy. After all, a singer of Daltrey's calibre doesn't call up just anybody and say "How about producing my album?"! What is really surprising is that Roger should ignore all the established record producers in favour of Russ, who has only ever produced one album before in his life and that was the solo one he made after leaving Argent.

How did his new role come about? "Well, I worked with Daltrey on his first album, played a little drums and piano on it, but I didn't produce that one, just put in some ideas. He must have liked them because when he was planning his second, he just asked me if I wanted to do it." Russ explained. In an issue of Beat dated April 1966, Daltrey himself described his voice in pretty disparaging terms. "I don't have a good voice, no-one needs to tell me that. I'm a screamer with a group and I'm happy. I'm not worried about my voice, though, it is developing and I can notice the change." He also added "I'd get a real kick if I could have a proper girl vocal group backing." It's taken nine years, but now he's achieved what he hoped for, a voice which no-one can deny is pretty exceptional, and backing singers led by Marsha Hunt, care of Russ Ballard! "I was involved with everything." said Russ. "Going through songs with him, deciding what musicians should be used, who would be good for this and who for that." For a reluctant producer, who admits that "I'm not really into production, even though it's a creative thing, I'd rather be an artist." Russ had some pretty definite ideas as to his treatment of the album. "I deliberately kept his voice well up because in so many recordings I've heard of Roger, he's been immersed in sound. He's got such a powerful and such a good voice which contains many aspects that people haven't heard before. What I set out to do on the album was to expose all those voices for the first time. I don't think it is a good thing for a producer to put his own standpoint on an album, the most important thing is to project the artist." Russ thinks that Daltrey's film work has given a lot more confidence and he also found getting to know him has radically changed the concept he had of The Who. "Many people would imagine Daltrey as an ego tripper, but he's not in the slightest. Before I got to know him well, I was under the impression that The Who were Pete Townshend's baby. But speaking to Roger, listening to his ideas, I think that a hell of a lot of his ideas must have always gone into The Who, a lot more than people think."

It was originally Roger's idea to record an album of his early influences. Then he changed rock horses in mid-stream. "By then we'd already recorded Walking The Dog and that Beachboys sounding song, so we were lumbered with them." The second idea was to project the different sides of Daltrey's voice in a collection of mixed rockers and ballads, including three songs of Russ's, Come And Get Your Love, Proud and Near To Surrender. "We didn't actually discuss the point but I felt he wanted to make a heavier album than the one we'd originally planned. Yet not totally heavy, but a record which would compliment the heavier stuff with lighter stuff. Right from the very first session when he sang the first song I could see his voice was so much better, I feel it's improved tremendously since the early Who days even though I think he had a good voice in 1964."

The next thing to decide on was the overall sound and the arrangements. Ex-Shadows drummer Tony Meehan was the man who worked on these. "I decided to make the sound quite sparse,-" explained Russ, "- rather than over-producing it. Some people just don't know where to stop. I decided that if a song called for piano and nothing else, that's what I was going to do." (Hence Phillip Goodhand Tait's beautiful slow rocker Oceans Away with the composer on piano.) "The most important thing in an arrangement is the song. If it's a good one you should be able to sing it with no backing at all and it should still sound great. If it's not, no matter how many extras you add it won't work." Russ reckons that having been in bands himself definitely helped him as a producer, enabling him to put himself in the artist's shoes. Yet he doesn't think he'd like to produce his own next album entirely alone. "When I was in Argent I found being produced by somebody else was very frustrating because I could tell people were veering away from the original ideas I'd had for my songs. That's why I decided to produce my first solo album, which turned out a bit of a mixture because I had a backlog of work to get out of my system. My next album will be slightly deeper, not so light-hearted. I hope to be co-producing it with Muff Winwood, whom I really admire because he's got such a good ear and can really make a musical point."

At the moment, Russ is doing very well with songs of his which are being covered by other artists. One called Heartbreak, has recently been recorded by Olivia Newton-John and yet another is currently being recorded in L.A. by Stevie Wonder's band. Russ has got a new band together consisting of the ex-drummer from Curly, Alan Wickett, bass player Tony Lester and guitarist Alan Skates- "He really does!" joked Russ. He's got three weeks booked in E.M.I. Studios to get the album done. As for his producing career, it looks like Ride A Rock Horse may be his swansong. What if Roger asks him to produce his third album? "Well… if I want to do what I want to do, that is, sing, play, write and record, I just won't have time to produce anybody." said Russ. There's nothing like getting out when you're on top!

[traveler-at-heart]

Lessons of Love

Summary: So, Nerd!Natasha and Fem!R, their first date and everything fluffy. I just have a lot of thoughts about them and maybe this will be a series (and it will eventually contain G!P Natasha so if that's not your thing, you've been warned). Nerd!Natasha x Fem!Rogers Reader

Don’t count the days, make the days count.

Natasha’s father had told her that as if it was ancient wisdom and not a fortune cookie message.

It was also easier to say it when you didn’t have to attend high school. There were days when she couldn’t cope with it, like when the football team was agitated before a match, or there was some drama around the most popular people in school.

Those times were a stark reminder that Natasha had no one to talk to, a confidant to mock the jocks or a friend to share the gossip with.

Genius comes with a cost.

That one was her mom’s way of comforting Natasha.

She was the smartest person in school, miles above her peers. What she didn’t have in social intelligence, she more than made up with a sharp, quick and brilliant mind.

But as she entered the chem lab, and took a seat at the last table where she was always alone, Natasha wished that things could be different.

If only for a day.

“Morning, everyone” professor Fury greeted as people went to their seats. “You might have heard about an explosion during class” the few giggles that were heard were quickly silenced by Fury’s glare. “So, to keep this from happening again, we’ll switch the teams for the rest of the semester”

Natasha’s heart raced. What if people could choose and then she’d end up front of the class, everyone staring because no one picked her?

“So, alphabetically” Fury read the list, Natasha going over the name that was before hers…

Rogers.

She looked at you, sitting next to Wanda on one of the first tables. You waved at the twins when their names were called, laughing at Wanda’s annoyed stare. Being paired with her brother meant she’d do most of the work while he fooled around.

“Rogers and Romanoff”

Natasha saw you gathering your things and looking around. When you found her, a smile broke out and you walked to join her in the back of the room.

How does one greet the most popular girl in school? Head of cheerleaders, little sister of legendary quarterback Steve Rogers, not to mention the most beautiful girl in all of Shield High.

Not that Natasha was paying attention.

“Hey, Natty” you greeted, sitting next to her and looking around. “Wow, you can really see everything from here”

“I-I guess”

Natasha wanted to crawl under the table and hide. What was she supposed to talk about?

“Guess it’s my lucky day” you said, unable to deal with the silence. Natasha had a hard time understanding if you were being sarcastic. “I mean, you’re the capitan of the Science Club. So, that makes you the best partner anyone could hope for in Chemistry”

Natasha didn’t have time to answer, as Fury finally started with the lesson. Once he gave you all the instructions and wrote some exercises on the board, everyone went silent. Of course, Natasha was done in half the time.

“Show off” you teased and felt your heart beating faster when Natasha actually laughed.

“Want help?” she offered and you went over your notes, nodding.

“I think I got most of them except… this one?” you pointed with your pencil. Natasha leaned, reading again and pulling her chair closer to yours.

“You see, when you choose a coefficient, try to select one as low as possible”

“And that would affect all of the atoms in the molecule” you said and Natasha nodded. “Ok, I think I got it”

But the redhead kept staring as you began to write again, and you poked her side.

“Stop it, Romanoff”

You went back to work, missing the way Natasha blushed at the physical contact.

“Good. Now, I want you to get to know each other even better, so you’ll do a project for next class. Do not sass me, youths” Fury raised his voice as everyone began to protest.

“We’ve known each other our whole lives, can we skip this one?” Pietro said while pointing to his sister, and everyone laughed.

“No” Fury said, turning to write on the board again. “Do some research on why it’s important to balance chemical equations and what other parts of chemistry rely on this skill. Bonus points for concrete examples where it helped advance important research on other fields”

He dismissed the class, and everyone began to pack their bags to move to the next session.

“So… uh… how do you wanna do this? Wanna meet somewhere?” Natasha said, unfamiliar with team projects. Teachers would let her work alone, because pairing her with someone meant she’d do all the work and split the credit.

“Yeah, not my place though. The boys have their weekly pool game after football practice and they can get so loud” you rolled your eyes, walking out of the classroom next to the girl.

Natasha’s stomach turned at the idea of being anywhere near the school jocks.

“So, the school library?” you offered, giving her a way out in case her house was off limits.

“I think my mom has more books about it than the library”

Damn it, where did that come from? She couldn’t handle a class with you and now she was suggesting her place? Where would you even work? And Melina would make some embarrassing remark, or Alexei would ask a million questions and say something silly…

“Yeah, cool. I’ll stop by after cheerleading practice”

“Let me give you the address”

“Natty, I know where you live” you chuckled, surprised that she seemed surprised. “Remember your birthday party? I was there”

“That was like seven years ago”

“Yeah, so? I remember” you smiled. “Gotta run, see you later”

Natasha stared as you walked to History class. You turned around one last time, smiling shyly and waving at her.

Natasha waved back, her cheeks turning red at being caught staring.

Crap, she wasn’t going to survive this assignment.

—

You went up the steps, fixing your hair before ringing the doorbell.

God, how were you going to manage this afternoon with Natasha? You were barely able to keep it together during class.

You were still torn on how to manage your fight or flight response when the door opened.

“Y/N!” Natasha’s sister practically shouted your name.

“Hey, Yelena. I’m here to…”

“You know my name” the girl said.

“Well, yeah, you’re Nat’s sister”

Speak of the devil.

“Yelena!” Natasha went down the stairs in record time.

“What?” Yelena said, talking back as soon as Natasha switched to Russian. They went back and forth for a while, and you stood outside, wondering if you’d ever manage to get in.

“Sorry about that” Nat finally turned to you, Yelena leaving the room in a rush.

“No worries. I couldn’t understand you. Literally”

“My room’s this way” Natasha said, scratching the back of her neck.

A second later, she regretted letting you go up the stairs first. Your skirt moved with each step you took, toned legs in full display. Natasha had to pray she wouldn’t trip on the way up.

“Which door?” you turned to look at her, her ears red. You bit your lip, trying not to think how adorable she looked all flustered.

“The one on the right” she pointed and you nodded, waiting for her to tell you it was ok to open it.

“Wow” you said, looking around at the shelves full of books and scale models of different machines.

“You can take the chair if you want” Natasha offered her desk, and you were so busy reading the titles of the books you almost didn’t hear her.

“Oh, that’s ok. I can sit on the bed” you said, placing your backpack in the corner. You pulled out your laptop and opened a new tab. “I was thinking we can get all the info we need, and then decide how to organize it. I’ll write a draft and you can review it”

It was Natasha’s turn to be distracted, appreciating the way you leaned against her headboard, stretching your arms above your head.

“I-I got some books from my mom’s study.  Let me find the right one…” she sat on the floor and you laid on your stomach, your heads at the same height as you looked over her shoulder.

Natasha began reading and taking notes, while you reviewed some articles on your laptop.

“Ready”

“Ok” you said, changing to sit next to her on the floor. Natasha felt your shoulder against her arm, and your sweet parfume invaded her senses.

You always smelled good. And looked so pretty. It was hard to focus but she managed just enough to dictate some of the things she’d found useful.

“You don’t have to write this down, but let me know if you think any of it is interesting for the paper” she said, and you really wanted to pay attention, but your eyes kept drifting to her lips. “Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“Sorry, I’m boring you” Natasha said, closing the book and looking dejected. She was about to put it away when you reached for her hand, sitting up.

“Now hold on. You weren’t boring me”

“It’s ok”

“Nat, look at me” you asked. The redhead seemed to forget you had moved closer when you reached for her hand, and when she turned to look at you, you were inches apart.

“I…”

Was she looking at your lips? Were you leaning forward? Did she want this?

You didn’t have time to find out, as the door to Natasha’s room opened and you jumped back.

“Oh! Yelena was telling the truth”

“Hi, Mrs. Romanoff” you greeted, hoping she didn’t notice your cheeks turning pink.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you. Why are you sitting on the floor? Natalia, where are your manners?”

“Mom”

“No, that’s ok. I prefer the floor. Your hydrengias are looking spectacular, by the way” you tried to change the subject.

“Thanks to you! You were right about the change of place. Oh, I should have sent you a plate of cookies, you helped me with it and I didn’t even thank you”

“That’s ok, Mrs. Romanoff”

“Well if you want to stay for dinner, you’re more than welcomed” Melina turned to her daughter, with a more serious demeanor. “And you, remember to put those books right where they belong. I have a very particular system”

“Yes, Ma’am” 

“So…”

“I…”

You both spoke at the same time. 

“Sorry” you tried to breathe, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. “You were saying?”

“I didn’t know you spoke to my mom about flowers?”

“Oh, that” you blushed and Natasha bit her lip, drinking in every word you said. “Yeah, Mom and I ran into her at the farmer’s market. They were talking about plants and we gave her some tips. That’s how we spend quality time, working on the garden”

Natasha nodded, but you still stared at her.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, looking at her lips. Natasha swallowed and nodded. “I… uh… why was Yelena acting weird when she saw me?”

That’s not what you meant to ask, but you had lost your courage.

“Oh…” the redhead looked disappointed. Or were you imagining things? “She’s obsessed with joining the cheerleading squad, and you being the President…”

“I’m not, anymore” you blurted out, surprising even yourself. “I mean, I’m still on the team… but I thought Pepper would do a better job” 

“But they won the Nationals last year because of you” Natasha protested, and you were taken aback by her sudden rage. “There’s no one better than you”

“That’s really sweet, Nat” you placed your hand on hers. “But it’s for the best. Trust me. I’ll have more time to focus on the school paper or… I don’t know, dating?”

“I guess you could do that…” Natasha said, looking at your hands. For the second time in the day, your eyes found hers and then traveled to those beautiful lips.

“Y/N!” 

Bucky shouted from the door. Damn it.

“My ride’s here” you said, disappointed. Natasha nodded, standing up and offering her hand to help you up. You took it, surprised at her strength. 

A gasp left your lips when you were face to face, inches away from her lips. All you had to do was step forward and stand on your toes…

“Y/N/N” Bucky insisted and you had to control the urge to tell him to go to hell.

“Sorry. I have enough notes to write something. Can I text you once it’s done?”

“Sure, let me give you my number”

“I already have it…” you blurted out, trying to hide your face.

“How?”

Now, this time you were grateful for Bucky’s insistence. 

“Coming, Buck! See you later?” 

“Yeah. I’ll walk you out” 

You nodded, allowing Natasha to lead you to the front door. Her father, coach Romanoff, was chatting with Bucky at the door.

“Good practice today” Alexei said and Bucky nodded.

“Thanks, coach” he then turned to you, offering his hand to get your bag. “Ready to go, doll?”

“Yeah. Thanks for having me, Nat. Say bye to your mom and Yelena for me?” 

“Sure”

An uncomfortable feeling took over Natasha as you walked next to Bucky, watching him take your bag and carry it for you. You laughed at something he said while he opened the car door for you and then drove away.

“They make a cute couple, don’t they?” Alexei said, but Natasha shrugged her shoulders and went back to her room, almost knocking Melina over on the way up the stairs. “Did I say something wrong?”

—

Natasha felt weird doing it, but she couldn’t help herself. 

She only opened an Instagram account to watch cool science videos. But she knew your username because Yelena followed you and now, she was acting like a creep, looking at your profile.

In search of what? She wasn’t sure. Maybe proof that you were dating Barnes.

“Hey” Yelena walked into her room and Natasha dropped her phone. “Ew, were you watching porn?”

“What? No! What do you want?” Natasha said, the blush in her cheeks only making her seem guilty.

“Well, just wanted to ask you if Y/N mentioned anything about this year’s tryouts?”

“No, we didn’t really talk about… that”

Natasha didn’t mention the conversation you had about stepping down as president. She had a feeling that was private.

“Ok, go back to watching porn” Yelena said, closing the door before Natasha could throw a pillow her way.

Then, her phone pinged and Natasha looked at it as if it was a cursed object. 

Unknown number: Hey, Nat. I have a draft ready. Lmk if I can send it to you

Natasha: Hi. Sure thing, I’m not doing anything

Damn it, way to be a loser, Natasha. 

She didn’t even wait a few minutes to reply.

Y/N: Ok, should be on your email now.

Natasha: Thnx, reading now.

Y/N: Gotta get ready for dinner. It was nice seeing you today.

Y/N: Outside of school, I mean.

Y/N: So… yeah. Anyway. I’m being weird, haha. Talk soon. 

Y/N: XO

Natasha’s heartbeat sped up with every new text. She caught herself reading them over and over again.

She didn’t have time to worry about what to reply, because her mother came knocking.

“Dinner’s ready. You can take your time… Yelena told me you were busy.”

“Oh, my GOD!” Natasha jumped out of bed, opening the door. “I am not… watching porn!”

“She said you were stalking Y/N’s instagram” Melina said, turning to find her youngest daughter holding a laugh.

“сука” Natasha screamed, running after her.

“Papa, help!” Yelena screeched, going down the stairs. 

“Language! And no running inside the house!” 

Melina sighed. With the way Natasha was looking at you today, she had a feeling that parenting was going to be even more complicated now.

--

Throughout the week, you never left Natasha’s mind. It was a strange feeling. She’d never dwelled on social interactions that much, thinking it wasn’t worth her time. 

But still, when Friday came, she was excited because you shared English class as well. 

And there you were, leaning against the door, speaking to Barnes. Again. Natasha sighed, trying to ignore the heavy feeling in her stomach at the way you laughed with him, smacking his arm playfully.

As usual, the redhead kept her head down and went to the last table of the classroom, where she could be left alone. Only, you walked straight to her as soon as Professor Harkness started the lesson.

“Hey” you greeted, sitting next to Natasha. 

“H-hi”

“Sorry, do you want me to find another place to sit?” you said, looking around the room. 

“No!” Natasha practically shouted, making you flinch. “I’m sorry. No, you can sit here”

You nodded, occupying the chair next to hers. It was going to be a slow day, as Ms. Harkness set up the projector to show a documentary about Patricia Highsmith. 

“You have to write a report about this so pay attention” the professor said, taking a seat to start the film.

While the documentary played, your mind kept drifting back to Natasha, sitting a few inches away from you. Truth be told, you had always found her to be beautiful, intriguing… but after spending an afternoon with her, those moments when you touched hands or locked eyes, kept replaying in your head. 

Instead of taking notes, you decided to execute a plan that was saved for the next Chemistry lesson. Drawing on a sheet of paper, you created a game of hangman, double checking the number of letters for each of the three words. 

Without looking at Natasha, you pushed the sheet her way. She looked at it for a second too long, and then at you. You were beginning to regret the whole thing, and then she underlined the letter T. You smiled, writing on the designated place.

Natasha took her time analyzing the sheet, but by the time the lesson was over, she had guessed some of the letters.

_o_i_   o_   _ _ tur _ _ y ?

The bell rang, and as the lights were turned back on, you looked at her, smiling nervously. 

“So… want me to tell you what it says? Or, you can take the sheet and text me if you figure it out?” 

God, you sounded so desperate. No wonder Natasha looked at you as if you had grown a second head. 

“I’ll take it” she smiled, placing it between her notebook and walking out.

“Actually, Nat…” you went after her. Why not just ask straight away and see what happened?

“Yes?” she said, turning to look at you. Truth be told, she was anxious to get out. Your proximity had distracted her during the entire class. And it only got worse when you slid that sheet her way, and she saw the way you were biting your lip nervously.

She had to force herself to look away from your lips. 

“I was thinking, if you’re not too busy…”

“Go on a date with me”

You were both taken aback by the interruption. The words were stolen right out of your mouth by a junior student, Peter Parker. He was staring at Natasha excitedly. 

“Never mind” you grumbled, rolling your eyes and walking away. 

Natasha flashed an angry glare at Peter, but you were walking down the hallway at record speed.

“What is wrong with you?” Natasha said. Peter was a year younger, but knew the redhead from science club. 

“Sorry, it’s just that I… those were the words that came out of my mouth to ask MJ out. MJ! And she said yes!”

“Yeah, start with that next time” 

Natasha spotted you across the hall, talking to Thor. Of course. 

“I have to go” Natasha pushed the boy aside.

She was so distracted, she never noticed where she was going until she opened the door to the computer room, where Barnes was making out with another senior, Sharon Carter. 

“Knock, damn it” Barnes said, but Sharon smacked his arm, looking stern.

“Don’t be a dick, James”

Natasha wanted to call Barnes a lot more than a dick, because who on their right mind would cheat on you? She stared at him a second longer, too angry to even speak, and then turned around, shutting the door behind her. 

You deserved so much better than Barnes. 

—

Y/N: Were you able to figure it out?

Natasha kept staring at her phone. She hadn’t replied to your message since yesterday and the longer she waited, the worse she felt.

Should she tell you about Barnes? Would you believe her? Or would you call her the worst name in the book and refuse to be in the same class as her? 

The girl was pacing around in her room, but of course Yelena chose that moment to play her music at full volume. Natasha let out an exasperated sigh, going to her sister’s room.

“Turn it down!” she yelled from outside, knocking several times to get Yelena’s attention. “Yelena? Your music is too damn…” let the record show she had tried to knock. Natasha walked into Yelena’s room without permission, ready to get into a screaming match with her sister. What she didn’t expect was to see you sitting on her bed, while Yelena showed you different things on her closet.

“I told you it was very loud, Yel” you said, smiling at the girl and then at Natasha, who took a step forward to shut the music down. “Hey, sorry about the noise”

“I don’t recall giving you permission to come in, sestra” Yelena said, examining a t-shirt and her favorite vest. She turned to you. “What about this?” 

“Yeah, that’s better. And hair braided, don’t forget that. Pepper and all the other girls love braids. I think the ones Natasha wears sometimes are really… uh, pretty”

You didn’t mean to sound like a creep, but of course you had noticed Natasha’s fiery hair braided from time to time. 

“So, since you’re standing there and made me turn off my music” Yelena turned to her sister, showing the outfit. “What do you think? Tryouts are on Monday and Y/N is helping me pick an outfit”

“That one’s nice” Natasha nodded, trying to avoid your stare. She thought she had today and tomorrow to figure out what to do over Barnes. But what if you came to talk to her and she just blurted the whole thing out?

So, she excused herself and thought it would be better to hide in her room. Peace didn’t last long, though.

“Knock!” Natasha grumbled when her sister got in. 

“Hey, you didn’t knock either just now. I wanted to ask if you got the tickets for the movie”

“Yes, of course I did”

“Good. I can’t go with you, so you should take Y/N”

“Wait, what?” Natasha hissed, trying to not lose it at Yelena’s ridiculous antics. “You can’t just cancel like that and she probably doesn’t even want to…”

“Ask her” 

“What?”

“Ask her. Or if you’re too afraid, I can do it for you. But honestly, Natalia. Just do it. You’re both driving me crazy”

Natasha didn’t know what Yelena meant by that, so she just rolled her eyes and sighed.

“I’ll ask her, I don’t want it to seem like my little sister has to arrange my outings”

“Fine. I’m getting some water, you should do it now. Don’t pass out” Yelena winked, knowing her sister could barely handle social interactions.

 Natasha felt her heartbeat strong in her chest, but didn’t wait too long before going back to Yelena’s room. She knew her sister meant it and would absolutely ask you out on Nat’s behalf.

“Hey, Y/N” she walked into the room, door ajar.

“Hey. What’s up? Want to try on outfits with us?” you joked. In spite of her nerves, Natasha smiled.

“I wanted to ask if you wanna go to the movies”

“Really?” you smiled. “What time?”

“It starts in an hour so… we can leave in thirty minutes if it works for you”

“Yeah. Awesome”

You didn’t think about asking which movie or anything else really. The fact Natasha had asked you was all you cared about. The redhead left the room once her sister came back, trying to hide her anxiety. Yelena gave her a knowing look, and kept chatting with you but wasn’t surprised to find you smiling out of nowhere, distracted and constantly checking your watch.

Once it was time to go, Natasha waited downstairs to drive you both to the movies. The ride there was quiet at first, until you reached out for the radio.

“Very cool” you praised when OK Go came on. “Their best music video is for I won’t let you down”

“What? No way! This too shall pass. That Rube Goldberg machine was insane”

“But what about all the extras and the umbrellas? Imagine the coordination it took. I tried to talk the girls into doing it for Nationals but they said I was insane”

Natasha laughed at that, humming along to the song, feeling more relaxed. You also smiled, and enjoyed watching her drive. She looked hot as she held the wheel. 

As you were arriving to the theater, you mentioned Barnes and how he always forgot to get the tickets and once again, Natasha’s anxiety came back. 

She was quiet as she parked and you both exited the car. 

“Wait. I’m sorry. I can’t do this” 

“Do what? What’s wrong?” you looked at her, searching her eyes. 

“Please don’t hate me” she pleaded.

“Natty, I could never” you shook your head, the term of endearment almost leaving Nat out of breath. 

“I saw… Barnes and Sharon Carter kissing in the computer room. I’m sorry”

“Ew. Yeah, they tend to do that anywhere they can. I’m the one who’s sorry you had to see it” you laughed, but the sound died down when Natasha looked at you as if you had grown a second head.

“Aren’t you dating Barnes?” she said, trying to understand everything.

“What? Gross. He’s like my other brother. Slightly less annoying than Steve, that’s for sure” 

“You’re serious?” Natasha said, feeling as if a giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

“I’m very serious and very much single… waiting for a pretty girl to come sweep me off my feet” you said, smiling as Natasha blushed. You took her hand, going inside the theater. “Come on, the movie is starting soon”

You waited in line for the candy store, her hand still in yours. Once it was time to get your stuff, you stood behind her, looking over her shoulder by standing on your toes. Natasha blushed at the contact, your chin resting against her shoulder while you asked the clerk for some chocolate.

“Let me” Natasha said, paying before you could give the man money. 

“Chivalry isn’t dead” you said, enjoying how much she was blushing. You smiled, helping her with the soda and finally going inside the room. 

“So, what are we watching?”

“It’s this new zombie movie, like found footage”

“Oh, cool” you muttered, feeling the palms of your hands get sweaty. 

“Sorry, I didn’t even ask if you were ok with that”

“No, it’s fine. I’m just a bit of a chicken” you laughed, settling in your seat. You hoped Natasha didn’t think you were lame and as the movie started, you really did try to be brave. And then a zombie came jumping through a window and you hid your face behind your hands. 

“Hey, it’s ok” Natasha took your hand. “We can leave if you want to” 

“No, I’m fine” you said, forgetting about the movie as soon as her hand let go of yours, arm going around your shoulders to comfort you. 

No way were you leaving now.

You leaned against her chest, hiding when something scary was about to happen. Natasha held you close, her hand going up and down your back in a soothing manner. 

Who knew all it took was some scary zombies to get close to her…

The movie didn’t last as long as you’d have liked, but still, you were happy when she kept holding on to your hand as you left the cinema.

“That was fun” you commented and Natasha let out a laugh. “What?”

“You were hiding half the movie”

“Maybe I liked that part the most” you challenged, pleased when she blushed again. “But next time, we’re watching a rom com or a sci-fi movie.”

“I’d like that” Natasha said and you were looking at her lips when your phone rang. “Want a ride home?”

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to”

“It’s not a problem. Come on” she walked next to you, opening the car door. 

“What else do you listen to?” you played with the radio, going from A-Punk, to Keane and Travis. “Really good taste”

“What about you?”

“Anything really. I have like 45 playlists that are completely random. I could send you one if you’d like” 

“Yeah, I’d like that” Natasha nodded. You smiled, enjoying the view (and by view you meant Natasha, her fingers tapping against the wheel) for the rest of the ride. 

Once you got home, she opened the car door for you again. You didn’t move from your spot next to her, enjoying the proximity.

“Nat?”

“Yes?”

“I like you” you said without a warning, and it was hard to tell who was more embarrassed, you or Nat. “I’m sorry for being so forward but I think I needed you to know. I’m thinking about kissing you and holding your hand and…”

For the first time in her life, Natasha did something without thinking. She pulled you by the waist, connecting her lips to yours. You groaned in surprise, but sighed against her mouth a second later. Your hands went up her neck, to keep her close to you as you moved your lips against hers.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself”

“Never apologize for doing that” you smiled, leaning your forehead against her shoulder. Natasha smiled, kissing your temple. “Are you good to drive?”

“Yeah” she nodded.

“Ok. I don’t want you to do it if you’re distracted or something. It could be dangerous, you know?” you rambled and Natasha saw genuine concern behind your words.

“I’ll text you when I’m home, how about that?”

“Yes, please” you sighed with relief. “Be careful. And thank you for today” without being able to help yourself, you stood on your toes and pecked her lips one more time.

Natasha got in the car, smiling as she drove back home. True to her promise, she texted you as soon as she arrived. 

She was expecting Yelena to greet her with a million questions, but the girl was back in her room, still listening to music.

Going back to her own room, she found the game of hangman you had done for her, now complete with Yelena’s handwriting.

Natasha was really clueless.

Movie on Saturday?

This whole time, you were asking her out. Natasha took a picture of the paper and sent it to her sister.

Nat: You went through my stuff.

Sestra: Ur welcome.

Natasha would never hear the end of it. Her phone pinged again.

Y/N: Glad you’re home safe. 

Y/N: Still thinking about that kiss.

Y/N: So… yeah. When’s our second date?

Coming to think of it, she was happy to pay that price. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Frisky Friday thot?

You've caught the attention of not one gorgeous blonde, but two at one of Stark's parties. Each charming in their own way, they make room for you to sit between them and offer you a drink. One drink won't hurt.

Right?

Just a Drop

“You are such a buzzkill," Mandy snaps as she untangles the thin strap of her bag. "I'm tryna do something here and you keep whining that you're all alone--" 

You reel at your friend's harshness. She asked you to come. She even said she needed the moral support. After all, how could she go alone to one of Stark's infamous parties. She's so nervous, don't you know? 

"Sorry, but I don't know anyone but you--" 

"It's a party. Get out there," she retorts and pulls out her mirror compact. She checks her lips and flicks her lashes. "Now, if I keep Tony waiting, he's going to find someone else. So go. Plenty of people to mingle with." 

You sniff back your reticence and the sting of her tone. You nod and she spins on her heel and stomps back through the door. You contemplate leaving. Would she notice? Well, if she realises you ditched her, you would have zero friend in the city. 

You look down at yourself. You even let her dress you. The sweater is blush pink with sequins on it, but she was frustrated that it was so baggy. She paired it with a skirt even though it’s cold. She couldn’t lend you any of her clothes because they wouldn’t fit. The one thing she did give you from your wardrobe were the shoes. Heeled booties that make you teeter. 

You make yourself go back into the room. The voices hit you like a sonic wave. Everyone is so cheery and excited to see each other. It’s crowded and chaotic and you have no place there. It’s no different than you’ve felt your whole time in the city. Lost and alone. 

You set to wandering around. You’ll pace away the time until Mandy releases you from this purgatory. You shrink away from the woman you know to be Natasha Romanov. You tried to say hi but she looked at you as if she would swat you away like a gnat. Then there’s the men she’s with; they’re hulking, mean looking figures. 

You fold your arms and try to will yourself into invisibility. Certainly, given a number of your company, that can’t be entirely impossible. You pass behind the couch and something knocks against your elbow as you walk along the leather. 

You recoil and turn to rub your elbow as you watch the man touch his blond hair. Oh no. As he leaned back, you must have bopped him. You cradle your arm and cringe. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you say as his blue eyes find you. It’s Thor. The god of thunder. He was one that Mandy was sure to point out; a backup plan, she proclaimed. “I didn’t see you.’ 

“Not to worry, lady. My own fault. I was being rowdy and did not think before I threw myself back,” he drops his hands. “I should be honoured to be battered by a woman so enchanting.” 

You blink. You’re not sure if he’s mocking you. Sometimes Mandy’s compliments turn out not to be. The man beside him glances back too. Oh, Steve Rogers. 

“Hey, you seem lonely,” he says, “who’d you come with?” 

“Oh, uh,” you look around. You don’t see Mandy. “A friend.” 

“A friend?” He echoes. 

“Yeah, but I don’t know where they went...” you trail off. 

“How improper of us, Rogers,” Thor reaches over to muss Steve’s hair before he stands. He turns and faces you over the couch, “my lady, I present to you Steve Rogers of Brookland.” 

“Brooklyn--” Steve corrects. 

“And it is I, Prince Thor of Asgard,” he touches his own chest as he booms, “would you do us the honour of joining us for a drink?” 

“Oh, a drink?” You squeak in surprise. “I hate to impose--” 

“Impose? We could use the company,” he assures you and waves you around. “Rogers, make room, you lump.” 

“Lump?” Steve mutters, though there’s a lilt of humour in his voice. 

You hesitate, swaying, then come around the long leather sofa. You don’t want to be rude. Especially to them. And it’s exactly what Mandy told you to do; mingle. 

Steve stands as you approach and gestures you down to the cushion between them. Thor remains on his feet as the other man sits with you. You peek over at the captain then up at the prince. 

“I’ll fetch us a round,” Thor declares. “I shall be fleet.” 

He turns and struts off. You stare after him and twiddle your fingers nervously. Your eyes skitter around. What do you say? 

“Not a big fan myself but Tony loves these things,” Steve says.  

“Oh, yeah, I’ve never... I don’t go to many parties.” 

“Well, you’re not missing out on much. I always end up dragging out the punchiest moron in the room. Unfortunately, that’s often my buddy.” He points and you follow it to the dark-haired man with Natasha; Bucky Barnes. 

“Oh, right,” you murmur. “That’s... too bad.” 

“He doesn’t even have a good excuse. They don’t serve anything he can get drunk on,” he snorts. 

Thor returns, giving you a start. He sets down three glasses on the low glass table across from you. “My lady,” he says and turns to sit, his weight shifting the couch. “The bar man says it is something fizzy. I can’t be certain,” he explains. “Rogers,” he turns to look at his cohort, “I’ve brought some of my home brew...” 

“Of course you did,” Steve scoffs. 

Thor reaches under his jacket and slips out a small flask. It’s gold and round, with elaborate patterning in it. He twists the cap and you feel a tug on your sweater.  

“I like this, it’s pretty,” Steve says. 

“Oh, uh, thanks.” 

“Yes, very becoming,” Thor adds as he pours into one glass, “and for you, Rogers.” He trickles more into another.  

You turn and look at the clear, bubbly drinks. Thor tucks away the flask and grabs two. He hands one to you. Rogers reaches for the third. 

“Thank you,” you accept the cold glass. 

“Skol,” Thor raises his glass. 

“Cheers,” Steve mirrors him. 

You look between them, feeling smaller as you feel their body heat brewing. You just lift your glass higher to let them clink it. You follow their lead, drinking when they do, though you nearly cough it back up. 

“Oh, bubbly,” you cover your mouth. Strong, you think. You don’t have the highest tolerance. 

“How long have you been in New York?” Steve asks, catching you off guard.  

“Oh, just about...” you tally in your head, “one year now.” 

“Wow, newbie,” he comments. You take another drink, just for something to do. 

“As am I,” Thor adds. “I do miss home but I like your planet too.” 

You nod and sip again. 

“Have you been to this place, Central Park?” Thor asks. “I was lost for a whole day.” 

“Imagine that, a whole god, lost,” Steve laughs. 

“Eh, I was off duty,” Thor argues. 

They banter back and forth and you’re all too happy to fade into the leather. You slurp tentatively. Mandy is still elusive. You suppose she managed to snare her game but what about you? 

As your eyes flit around the room, it seems to rock. You lurch forward in a sudden bout of dizziness and lean forward to put the glass down. You miss the table but the glass is caught from underneath. Thor takes it and puts it on the table. The ice hits the glass. You drank it all without realising. 

“Thirsty,” he remarks as you slouch forward. He pushes you back and Steve help eases you against the cushion, “are you feeling it?” 

“How much did you put in hers?” Steve hisses. 

“Just a drop,” Thor assures, “never worry, Rogers, I know as I am doing.” He pets your forehead as your head falls back under its own weight. You blink at the ceiling as your body slackens. “My lady, never fret. We are heroes, we will take good care of you.” 

[citrinae]

you have trouble sleeping.

contents; hurt/comfort, implied trauma, anxiety. i’ve been feeling a little off these days so here’s a band-aid to read at 3 am.

ft. the monster trio

masterlist

⋆ ˚｡༄ luffy

during one of his nightly trips to the kitchen, luffy sort of expected to see some additional measures applied to keep him from the fridge, all locked up and forbidden, but what he didn’t anticipate was to find you on the way there, slumped on the floor and with your back pressed against the railing. it was long past midnight. he also knew it hadn’t been long since your last turn at the crow’s nest. 

“i switched with nami,” you explained to him as soon as he took the spot next to you. 

“why?” he pressed on, wide, widening eyes tracing the contours of your face. “is she sick?”

you told him that no, she’s fine, i just didn’t feel like going to bed today. 

“are you sick?” he tried again. 

a couple of beats later, you shook your head, hinted at a smile. luffy was your ear, just as much as you were his, but he was your captain too, and the last thing you’d want was to burden him with thoughts which were likely to crawl away with the sunrise. 

“i’m good,” your cheekbones ached under the heaviness of your eyes. “a little restless, maybe.”

the ship creaked and hummed through these seas you recognised too well. you stared at the sails, pulling at the ropes to keep the ship on its path, hopelessly trying to find the straw hat jolly roger, or at least its shadow, something, in the dark. knowing where you were headed would have you going back and forth the deck like a caged beast, vicious and unrested, but reminding yourself that this time would be different, you were different, at least permitted some air into your lungs. 

then your focus fell to the front of your shoes, and you saw it, a head wearing a straw hat outstretched across the floor. luffy’s hand was warm when he placed it on top of yours. 

“it’s alright,” he said, his voice soft and throaty. “you don’t have to tell me anything. you’re our friend, we’ll be there for you no matter what.” 

it wasn’t like you hadn’t been aware of that before. luffy had made a persistent point out of it ever since the first time you stepped aboard his ship, and he’d kept on saying it, we’ll be there, i’ll be there, with the voice of both a friend and a lover. what you felt thankful for instead was the way he always chose the right moments to say it. a minute passed, and you found yourself dropping into luffy’s lap, arms curling themselves around his waist in a most heartfelt hug. “thank you,” you whispered. it didn’t take long for him to pull you tighter against him, resting his chin upon your head. 

“no need,” luffy said, and he meant it. “now, how are your lockpicking skills?”

hearing this you could only raise a brow. “‘i’m going back to sleep’, is what you meant to say.” what you’d have wanted him to say, had the smile on his face not widened any further. 

“not tonight i’m not,” kissing your head. “and we’re gonna need some meat if we want to maintain our energy for tomorrow.”

⋆ ˚｡༄ zoro

you made it a habit to watch your boyfriend train. for minutes, and then hours, you would sit quietly as beads of sweat rolled off his biceps, muscles tanned and mapped with the vicious throb of his veins as weights were added on. he only realised something was wrong when, one time he felt like pushing his routine a little past the usual hour, you refused to move from your spot, despite the dark circles forming under your eyes and the yawns leaving you each time you opened your mouth. 

when he asked the first question, you tried deflecting it with something clever like the fact that the hotness in the room was your caffeine shot. 

“you’re lying,” he said, tilting his head to the side. the towel thrown around his neck was wet and discoloured. “go to bed.” 

you pretended you hadn’t heard him. 

he asked a second question, “what’s the deal, then?” crossing his arms. “can’t fall asleep by yourself or something?” 

you said nothing. the dimple dug at the corner of his mouth collapsed. 

“oh,” he said after a pause. 

you shrugged, faintly, “it’s just harder that way.”

it was embarrassing to say it out loud. you knew one should never back away from voicing their feelings, and yet, these words felt like downing a pack of spikes on some really bad-tasting pills. 

“alright,” he spoke with so much determination, his voice was thick. soon you noticed zoro’s hands were no longer preoccupied with his towel, nor the metal he’d been staining with sweat about moments ago, but with you, flat and hot around your thighs as he hurled you over his shoulder. “guess it’s time for both to crawl in.” 

the world started moving by itself as zoro carried you up the stairs, and the palms of your hands were chilly, even more so when the strain behind your eyes took to something like guilt.

“sorry,” you said. “didn’t mean to take you from your training.”

yet before the silence would begin to worry you, zoro’s voice scraped the air once again. “nah,” his hand tightened around your waist. “like my master said, ‘the skill of a true swordsman also lies in knowing when to stop’.”

⋆ ˚｡༄ sanji

some nights, sleep caught you the moment your head sunk into the pillow. and there were other nights, like this one, when nothing seemed to do the work for you, swamped in thoughts of all shapes and colours. deeper they dragged you, no matter how much you tossed and turned, or how hard you tried to focus on the nothingness behind your lids. then a meaner one pulled you even further down, quickening the pace of your heartbeat. you turned back to the side, dragging your knees to your chest, but just as you did, a kiss felt its way to your shoulder. 

“dearest,” sanji’s voice was a drowsy breath against your neck. “is everything all right?” 

with this he wrapped his arms around you, thumb moving across your skin, and you gladly accepted it, the care, the affection, enclosing the space between your restless body and the warmth of his chest. 

“got some trouble falling asleep, is all,” you assured him, at which he hummed, still caught somewhere between life and sleep—that one place you currently felt banished from. 

“are you thinking about them, mon coeur?” the movement of sanji’s hand on your skin was unhurried, pleasant. 

you kept your eyes closed. “lately it’s like i can’t think of anything else,” and you weren’t lying this time around.

normally confessions like this one would have rendered your boyfriend a mopey trainwreck, “what have i done to anger you so, oh dear lord, for i have been denied residence in my lover’s heart.” 

this time was different, in subtle ways you couldn’t really place. 

his nose ran a touch across your neck and to your jaw. “let me bring you some tea,” he said eventually. “red tea is best for keeping the bad thoughts at bay.” 

and usually the first thought coming to your head after this would have escaped you as less demanding and more like a thing of habit, “please don’t trouble yourself for me.” but tonight you were different too, face cold and hands shaky and exhaustion setting a feverish fog inside your head. 

you pressed your cheek against him. “no,” you said. “don’t leave me alone.” 

sanji settled a leg over your hip, held you tighter. “no leaving then,” a peck on your temple. “and you can fall asleep thinking about the breakfast i’ll be making tomorrow morning.”

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Drinkin’ Problem (Steve Rogers One Shot)

Summary: Steve gets as drunk as he’s able after the loss of you.

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, angst, sad Steve

WC: 754

Read on Ao3!

Drinkin' Problem - Midland

The bar wasn’t much, just a small, dimly lit hole-in-the-wall where nobody asked questions. Steve preferred it that way. It was one of the few places in Brooklyn where he could be alone, even when the place was packed. The regulars had learned to give him his space, and the bartender—an older man with a gruff demeanor—knew better than to make small talk. He just poured Steve’s drink, slid it across the counter, and moved on.

Steve swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the amber liquid catch the faint light from the jukebox in the corner. It was an old machine, playing country tunes that Steve wasn’t all too familiar with, though they fit the mood. Right now, Drinkin' Problem by Midland was crooning through the speakers, its slow, mournful rhythm syncing perfectly with his thoughts.

They call it a problem, I call it a solution…

The lyrics hit harder than they should have. Steve wasn’t drinking because he liked it. Hell, he could probably go days without touching the stuff if he wanted to. But it wasn’t about the whiskey. It was about *her*.

He took a long, slow sip, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it slid down his throat, dulling the ache in his chest—but just barely. He’d thought he could handle the pain. After all, he’d survived wars, fought gods, and saved the world more times than he could count. But nothing prepared him for this. For the silence. For the emptiness that swallowed him whole when she was gone.

It wasn’t just her. God, she was a wound that had long since scarred over, even if it never fully healed. But this…this was different. She’d been real. Present. Someone he could’ve built a life with. The life he’d been trying to live in the shadows of being Captain America. But she was gone now. Another casualty in a life full of them.

He could still hear her voice in the quiet moments, the way she’d call his name with that soft laugh of hers. The way she’d lean into him when the world felt too big, too heavy. She’d been his anchor, the one person who didn’t see him as just the man out of time or the symbol of freedom, but as Steve. Just Steve.

Now, all he had left were the memories—and the whiskey to help him live with them.

He downed the rest of his drink, feeling the warmth spread through him, numbing the edges of his grief. For a moment, he thought about leaving the bar. Heading back to the empty apartment that waited for him. But what was the point? The silence there was worse than the noise here. At least here, the clinking of glasses and the hum of the jukebox kept him company, even if they couldn’t fill the void she’d left behind.

Another drink appeared in front of him. He didn’t remember asking for it, but the bartender knew his routine by now. He nodded in silent thanks, lifting the glass to his lips. The whiskey went down smoother this time, or maybe he was just getting used to it.

The song switched, but he barely noticed. The world outside felt like a blur, distant and unimportant. His life had always been about the mission, about fighting for something bigger than himself. But now, what was he fighting for? What was left? The world moved on, as it always did, but Steve Rogers was still here, still stuck in his grief, drowning in memories of the life he’d almost had.

The bar began to thin out as the night wore on, but Steve stayed. He wasn’t ready to face the real world yet. Not without her. Maybe not ever.

He lifted his glass once more, staring into the amber liquid like it held the answers he was looking for. It didn’t. But at least it helped him forget, if only for a little while.

“They call it a problem,” he muttered to himself, echoing the song, “but I call it a solution.”

The bartender caught his eye from across the bar, offering a knowing nod before returning to his work. Steve wasn’t sure how much longer he’d stay here tonight. Maybe just one more drink. Maybe not. But tomorrow? Tomorrow he’d be back.

Because the truth was, this wasn’t just about the whiskey. It wasn’t even about forgetting. It was about holding on to what little pieces of her he still had left.

And for now, that was enough.

[buckets-and-trees]

Put Me Back On My Shelf

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Word Count: 750ish Summary: LATE Friday, September 28, 2017. It's not the sex with him that's the danger. Immediate follow up to Pull the String in the Exiled Nomad Series.

Content/Warnings: fluffy angst? Nomad Steve is still soft!dark and a warning - gaslighting if you read into the subtext

Author Notes: The previous part ended exactly where I felt it needed to, but this is the extended scene that I still very much know happened, wanted to happen, and knew I could share as its own moment with you lovelies.

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A little before midnight, you sat on the counter in the kitchen, Steve leaning against the counter next to you, polishing off your takeout order from the Italian place. They always gave wonderfully generous pasta portions, so that was easily shared between the two of you, but you were glad you had ordered double garlic bread so you didn’t have to sacrifice too much on that front. It had also reheated quite beautifully in your brand new air fryer. Now the two of you alternated spoonfuls of the tiramisu.

The conversation up to that point had been fairly casual and easy between the two of you, but now the two of you had fallen into a moment of silence, and the quiet didn’t bother you, but you felt Steve’s eyes settle on you a little differently when he took his next bite.

You almost let it slide, and you weren’t worried over what it meant, but you were curious. So you playfully batted his spoon out of the way on your way to getting your next spoonful and asked, “What’s that look for?”

He tilted his head slightly. His blue eyes were dark and serious.

You simply savored your bite and quietly waited for him to answer.

“I may have ruined your hair and make up a bit-”

“A bit,” you laughed, a surge of warmth rushing up your neck.

He grinned wolfishly. “I make no apologies, but I was going to say you seemed a little dolled up for just a night at home with some takeout and a movie.”

You couldn’t help the small sigh over the reminder of Mark.

Steve's brow furrowed at your sigh. "Did I say something wrong?"

You shook your head, offering a small smile. "No, it's not you. I actually had a date tonight, but he cancelled last minute."

Something flashed in Steve's eyes - concern, maybe a hint of jealousy? "I'm sorry to hear that. His loss."

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "It's fine. Honestly, I'm not that upset about him. We'd only been on a couple of dates. And good thing, otherwise I wouldn't have been here when you showed up."

Steve's expression softened, and he settled a hand on your knee. "Are you okay?"

The gentleness of his gesture and his inquiry made your heart flutter. "I am now."

Steve nodded, but his jaw was set in a way that made you think he was holding something back.

For an instant, you almost wondered if he’d had anything to do with Mark cancelling.

But that was ridiculous.

Like your first chance encounter, this could only be another night where stars aligned.

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice low and intense. "You deserve someone who appreciates you. Someone who wouldn't dream of cancelling on you."

This was the uncharted and the true danger with him. You swallowed hard, your heart racing at Steve's words. The intensity in his eyes made you shiver. He wouldn’t cancel on you, but you both knew he couldn’t make plans with you either.

He pushed the now-empty tiramisu dish aside, and turned you so you were facing him. He pulled you to the edge of the counter and stood between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs.

"Steve…" you began, unsure of what to say.

Steve's hands tightened on your thighs. "I shouldn't have come here. It's selfish and dangerous. But I had to see you again."

You cupped his face in your hands, feeling the rough stubble beneath your palms. "I'm glad you did."

He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours.

“Stay tonight?”

Steve's eyes searched yours, a mix of longing and conflict swirling in their blue depths. For a moment, you thought he might refuse, might pull away and disappear into the night as suddenly as he had appeared. But then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement.

"One more night," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper.

Cautious relief and excitement flooded through you. You leaned in, capturing his lips in a tender kiss. Steve responded immediately, his hands sliding up your thighs to your waist, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter. The kiss deepened, slow and languid, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion of earlier.

When you broke apart, Steve rested his forehead against yours, both of you breathing heavily. "We should get some sleep," he murmured, though his hands remained firmly on your waist.

“But only some sleep,” you responded.

He laughed and picked you up. “Deal.”

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[myfictionaldreams]

All Eyes On You // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: “Do you know what we would have done if we had turned up to that restaurant and seen you all dolled up like that? We would have bent you over the table in front of everyone and shown them exactly who you belonged to". - Steve Rogers.

Quote from my other fic titled 'The Fun Game'.

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, threesome, exhibitionism, voyeurism, possessive sex, dom/sub, rough sex, table sex, praise kink, deep throat, throat bulge, creampie, multiple orgasms, sir kink, oral sex, size kink/difference, hints of subspace

Words: 4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

“How far away are we Sam?” you asked your bodyguard from the back seat.

“Only a couple more blocks, Boss Lady. Not much longer”, he remained calm to try and counter the anxiety that seemed to be rolling off of you.

“Ok, thank you”. Taking in a deep breath you allowed it to loosen the tense muscles throughout your body for a moment before releasing it out of your nose. The moment's peace only lasted for that, as your stresses went to other areas such as your palms began to sweat as you mentally cursed yourself for not remaining calm.

Adjusting your dress for what felt like the 50th time that evening, you looked out the window, beginning to recognise the area as close to your destination.

You were late—more than late. In fact, it was past the point of being fashionably late and you were beginning to look straight-up rude now, but it hadn’t been entirely your fault.

Ok… this was a slight lie as you had woken up late from a nap, rushing to finish your make-up and get dressed before meeting Sam in the car outside of your home where he laughed at your rushed expression.

“It’s fine sweetheart, we’re only a few minutes late”. This was true until one of the tyres went flat and then there was the traffic which was horrendous.

Of course, you’d called Steve explaining what was happening and he was swift to calm your nerves, “It’s fine beautiful, don’t rush, we aren’t going anywhere. Can’t wait to see you…”. His voice was low as he spoke through the phone, it was the type of tone that had your thighs clenching together and anticipating pumping through your veins.

Today, was your weekly, “fancy date” - as Bucky referred to it. Where the boys wanted to take you out to the beautiful restaurant that Steve had shares in, and knew the owner as well as the chefs. It was famous throughout Brooklyn for its reputation, only the highest of nobility could book a table and even then, it had to be done months in advance. But due to Steve’s connections, every week the exact same table was booked in the centre of the room, underneath the exaggerated crystal chandelier, a pianist in the corner and a scattering of other tables surrounding yours.

But now, you were late for the first time ever, having always been the punctual one in the relationship, it filled you with dread to be late. Not only this but you just wanted to be with them both already because they’d been out from the crack of dawn, attending meetings and phoning manufacturers.

“Here we go”, Sam’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts as he parked right outside of the restaurant. Your bodyguard and friend promptly exited the car and opened your car door, holding a hand out to help you to also climb out of the car.

“I’ll catch you tomorrow, Boss Lady”, he then announced after opening the front door for you to enter. As you were now with Steve and Bucky, the building was always being scouted by guards and was safe for Sam to go and enjoy his evening off. Giving Sam a quick hug before he left, you finally walked further into the restaurant until you found the waiter at the entrance to the seating area.

“Right, this way Mrs Rogers-Barnes”. Your cheeks warmed at the name.

You weren’t married to either of the boys yet and they loved to tease you with the possibility of this in the future but for now, it was more something they loved to call you to show just who you belonged to, showing their possessive side.

Rubbing your hands anxiously together, you refrained from running across the room to take those few seconds off as you finally caught sight of Steve and Bucky, sitting patiently and waiting in their usual seats. Releasing the breath you hadn’t noticed that you were holding and wiping your palms against your dress, Steve’s eyes soften as he saw you behind the waiter.

“Hey, I’m so so sorry I’m late”, you were quick to rush out as the waiter left the three of you for a moment. Both of your boyfriends stood, placing their drinks on the table as you stared up at them, smiling sheepishly with embarrassment about the situation. But soon, that smile was fading away as you took in their stare.

It was almost predatory, your instincts were to look down at your dress, thinking maybe it had come undone. However, you found that it was all perfectly in place, completely hugging your body perfectly as it had been handmade and purchased as a gift from Bucky. It didn’t even reveal that much, stopping just before your knees so that couldn’t be why they were looking at you like they were able to gobble you up.

Pushing past the submissive instinct to look away from the stare, your eyes flicked up between Steve and Bucky, waiting for them to say anything. They were not rushing to make any moves however as they simply stared at you, taking in every single detail.

This gave you the opportunity to do the same with both men as Bucky wiped the corner of his mouth with his metal thumb, his eyes lingering on your heeled feet. Steve had forgone his jacket that now lay over the back of his chair, leaving him in a crisp white shirt, the top two buttons undone exposing some whisps of chest hair. Both sleeves were rolled up to his elbow, the muscles of his forearms tense and the black harness of his gun holster strapped tightly across his chest, not hiding his guns from the other patrons.

Then there was Bucky, wearing a slim-fitting black shirt that was unbuttoned the same amount as Steve, exposing the chain from his dog tags and a black and white checkered blazer to match his trousers, something you had bought him a few weeks ago for his birthday and your mouth was almost watering taking them both in. They were breathtakingly gorgeous and hulky, spending a lot of their time working out so they could easily beat up people that pissed them off but that came with the job role of being in a mafia gang.

Your body was beginning to react in a different way, core clenching in arousal, legs automatically squeezing together to try and rub against your clit to ease some tension. A move that Steve noticed immediately, the corner of his lip flicking up in a smirk before leaning towards his friend, whispering in his ear which set his friend into motion as you watched Bucky strut past, heading in the direction of the entrance where the waiter stood.

Turning back towards Steve, you jumped slightly as he finally took a step closer to you. Even though you were in heels, your neck had to strain back to look up at his abnormally large height. He and Buck were always the two to tower over everyone around them and it was something that you adored the most.

Steve’s ocean-blue eyes smoothly danced across your face, inspecting every pore almost. It made you feel slightly self-conscious, even if his stare continued to become more intense but you lost your cool, once again submissively glancing towards the floor and admiring the shine in his shoes.

“Don’t I get a kiss or something? Or am I in trouble for being late?” You had attempted to sound like you were joking but it came out as a whispered inquiry. Biting your lip on instinct, you finally found the courage to look up into his handsome face, freshly shaved and he was close enough that his expensive aftershave had your insides warming in a different way.

Before Steve could answer, Bucky returned standing directly behind you, bumping his chest against your back.

The waiter had returned with him and began to clear the table of the glasses, cutlery, napkins and even the candle in the middle until only the white tablecloth was left.

Your heart began pounding in your ears as you watched the waiter closely, only being forced to look away as Steve lifted his hand, finally touching you with a single finger underneath your chin, making you look directly at him.

“Tell me what your safe words are”.

A heavy breath rushed past your lips, fanning across his face, your eyes becoming unfocused slightly. Oh, so this was the kind of night you were having.

“Red, yellow, and green. If I can’t talk, three taps”. Your voice was low as your pussy throbbed, knowing what was coming.

Steve was very much an exhibitionist, loving knowing more than showing off what was his and on many occasions, would simply pull up your dress and fuck you no matter the audience, whether it was in the car with Sam or other gang members, or in the middle of a restaurant, he didn’t care. 

This was also why he paid so much money into this particular business, to pay people off on what they saw. It wasn’t a weekly occurrence that he was fucking you in front of everyone but it was also thrilling, especially with how possessive Steve and Bucky got in moments like this.

Steve nodded briefly at your correct terms. Bucky then shifted even closed behind you, lowering his mouth until it was hovering next to your ear. “Tell me Doll, what name did they use at the door?”

Once again your skin warmed, looking over your shoulder at Bucky, admiring for a moment his fresh buzzed haircut before giving him the answer he wanted. “Mrs Rogers-Barnes”.

Bucky groaned as soon as the words spilt past your lips, he pecked your cheek once and then continued, “That sounds so good coming from your mouth… I want everyone to know who you belong to”.

His stare was intense down at you, eyes continuing to flick down towards your parted lips, watching as you breathed the words, “I’ll always belong to you both”.

Steve then began to run a finger down your soft cheek, making you look at him and away from Bucky, “Yeah? Say it again”.

You made sure to speak slowly, emphasising each word, “I belong to you and Bucky. I am yours”.

Steve’s chest vibrated as he released a deep groan, his trousers tenting at your beautiful voice, eyes darkening slightly in the low light of the room. Your heart was pounding in your chest, absolutely loving seeing them both like this, like you were the only thing they cared about in the world as if they were holding onto a thin thread that once snapped, they’d go absolutely feral on you.

“Damn right you’re ours, and everyone in this goddamn building is going to know about it”, Steve finally growled out. Then he was kissing you, or more, possessing your mouth with his, dominantly, feverishly and breathlessly.

With one hand resting heaving against your hip, the other glided over your jaw, gripping it and tilting so that he was completely in control of the kiss, tongue pushing into your mouth, ready to explore and taste everything that made you, you.

Your chest ached from needing air but you didn’t pull back, needing to feel his body on yours, trying to keep up with the way his lips were moving against yours in a bruising pressure. Both of your hands eagerly gripped onto his shirt, creasing the material but wanting to feel the abs beneath, moaning from the back of your throat as his teeth scraped your bottom lip.

Then Bucky was joining. His hands circled your body to reach for your hand, tugging them away from Steve and behind your back, easily holding the both in one of his larger hands. This gave him the perfect position to grind his hips against yours, his cock now in line with your hands so that you could feel his throbbing cock trapped in his pants, your instinct to squeeze was met with a desperate groan from the man.

Kissing along your exposed shoulder, he muttered, “Dirty girl, do you like feeling how hard you make me?”

With Steve’s tongue still twisting and exploring your mouth, you were unable to answer, instead, you moaned and squeezed him again in response. His noises were spurring you on, wishing to feel more of him, hear most of his desperate sounds of arousal that only caused yours to increase, knowing that you were the reason he felt like this.

Steve finally pulled back enough for you to greedily gasp in the air, his tongue sensually licking your lip one last time before pushing your head back further, giving him the perfect opportunity to lick the entire column of your neck. Your lips tingled from the assault, your eyes had closed on the initial impact and you kept the closed, savouring the warmth and solid bodies you were surrounded by.

“Fuck I want to taste you so bad,”  Steve admitted desperately, returning to hover over your lips.

“Then taste me” you encouraged, wanting this just as badly.

“I will but later, I want- no NEED, to be inside your sweet cunt right now. All day it’s all I’ve thought about, watching my cock pumping in and out of your warm, wet hole”.

All you managed to was mewl in response, in between your legs dampening further as Steve lifted the edges of your dress up to your hips before easing your panties down your legs, helping you to step out of them.

The mafia leader didn’t waste another second before easily manhandling your body, turning you on the spot until you were facing the table, pushing on your shoulders, and bending you over. 

Your skin instantly cooled with now being immediately surrounded by either of your boyfriends and feeling extremely exposed as your dress remained bunched at your hips. Glancing over your shoulders, you admired the way that Steve and Bucky were taking a moment to appreciate your dripping pussy that was on full display for them.

As you watched them, you tried to not let your eyes trail over to the latitude of people also in the room with the three of you. There were the other guests, eating and drinking, as well as the servers, the cooks, the musician and the managers. So many eyes.

But you simply did not care. They would leave if they wanted to but also, you knew that Steve had a special connection with this place, giving hefty payouts and only allowing certain people to book on the days that the three of you were attending. This was all to fuel the addiction of exhibiting you off to everyone, needing people to know that you were only Steve and Buckys.

“So fucking beautiful”, Steve praised, almost drooling at the sight before him. “Open your legs a bit wider for me baby”, he encouraged, knocking his foot against yours.

You opened the stance of your legs so that he could stand between them. Then he unzipped his pants, gasping under his breath as he squeeze his shaft a few times, “Gonna make you mine, make sure that everyone knows that you are mine”. And with his last word, Steve’s tip was slipping through your folds and pushing into your hole. No foreplay, no teasing, just straight into it.

“Oh, fuck”, you gasped as there was a mix between pleasure and pain as you stretched around his cock. He was so big as he kept pushing inch after inch in.

Steve’s hand was on the top of your back, keeping you pushed down against the table that was thankfully screwed to the floor, having made the mistake of fucking so hard on it before that it had skidded across the floor. “You’re taking me so well baby girl, relax for me, just a little bit more”.

Releasing another heavy breath to try and relax the tension throughout your body, your greedy cunt took nearly all of him until his tip was brushing against your cervix. You wanted to tell him how good it felt, to be stretched around him, to feel him throbbing inside of you but you couldn’t muster up the words.

Steve took a second to look down at where your bodies were joined before finally beginning to thrust slowly in and out, attempting to give you time to adjust properly but as you let out a particularly high-pitched mewl, something within him snapped. The mafia leader began to fuck you, animalistically, hips snapping viciously against yours, your hips almost definitely going to have bruises beneath the skin with the way your body was being propelled into the table.

You were in blissful heaven, wanting nothing more than just this, feeling his heavy balls slapping against your clit, your walls clamping around his member as he smacked a quick hand against your arse cheek.

With the enthusiasm of the way you were being fucked, sweat began to form and drip over your body, causing the beautifully styled make-up on your face to melt into the white sheet that you were laying on. Once again though, you didn’t give a single fuck, becoming even louder with your desperate moans, even more so than the piano that was continuing to be planned in the corner of the room. In fact, the restaurant was continuing to run as usual, people still eating and drinking, not risking the wrap of either Steve or Bucky, they could only watch, but this was it.

Steve continued to pound into your cunt, hitting every beautiful spot that had you seeing stars. Bucky then knelt next to your head by the table, watching intently at your face, not that you could see with your eyes closed in pleasure, eyebrows knitted together in concentration and mouth gaped open to not hold back the beautiful sounds you wanted to admit.

The tightening was suddenly overpowering in your core, the release teething on the edge as you smacked your hand on the table. “Steve, Sir, please don’t stop”.

“Cum for me honey”, he encouraged out of breath, his hair sticking to his forehead from the amount of energy he was using. Your thighs clenched as you came hard, screaming out as your cunt fluttered around his cock, muttering Steve’s name repeatedly.

You weren’t even given a second to gather your breaths before Steve was pulling his cock out, once again manhandling your body with his large rough hands, turning you over so that you were now laying on your back across the table. Your head was leaning off of the edge of the table so you raised it up, looking at Steve as he positioned your legs up his body, feet resting against your shoulders.

Then Steve was fucking you again, just as voraciously as before, hands holding onto your thighs to keep them in place and give him something to pull back on with each of his thrusts. You admired the way he looked, tips of his cheeks now tinged with pink, muscles bulging under his holster and shirt, face completely overwhelmed with lust.

An ultra-cool hand was suddenly tilting back your head over the edge of the table so that you were now looking upside down at Bucky’s cock that he’d pulled out of his trousers. Instinctively, your mouth opened, knowing exactly what was coming and what you wanted.

“Gonna make me feel good, Mama?” Bucky asked, his voice husky and thick.

“Yes, please”. Your boyfriend groaned at your polite response, sliding his cock into your mouth. In this position, it was difficult to take control of the blowjob, instead trying to concentrate on sucking on the girthy member, feeling the veins popping and tasting the precum that was already leaking from the tip.

Working in time with Steve, Bucky made was in complete control as he thrust into your mouth, grunting in pleasure as he pushed your throat to the very limit, seeing it bulge before pulling out and allowing you to breathe.

You were dizzy with your head being in this position and the absolute domination of Steve with your cunt, continuing to fuck you hard. The adrenaline was pumping as you had to concentrate on your breathing but the overwhelming pleasure that was being pumped into you was almost blinding and eliminating all rational thoughts from your mind.

Steve was also quick to remind you between thrusts, “You’re ours, only ours!” He became more frantic and you knew he was going to cum, and as his hips suddenly stuttered, he released one of your thighs in the process, your leg flopping to the side giving him more space to rub against your clit.

Steve's hot cum was pumping into you, soaking your walls as you too were pushed over the edge, your convulsing cunt helping to milk Steve’s cock. This only caused your throat to constrict along with the rest of your body and without being warned, his orgasm came as a shock to him as well as Bucky was too spurting cum into your body which you rushed to swallow on instinct.

As he eased out of your mouth, tears had begun to leak out of the corners of your eyes, completing the cock-drunk look that had taken over you. 

“Easy Doll,” Bucky soothed as he helped you to sit up, holding up your body as the blood rushed from your head, Steve’s hands wandered up your thighs as he remained in position but your legs were now hanging off of the edge of the table.

Steve bent down first, kissing your cheek to bring you back to the moment, asking, “Do you want to stay here, or go home?”

“Go home”, was your honest answer.

Steve easily tucked himself back into the restraints of his pants, shouting to the manager, “Kyle, we’ll take our food to go”. Then in a much softer voice to Bucky, “Take her to the car, I’ll join you in a minute.”

As Steve moved away, Bucky replaced where he stood, still holding you up as you swayed slightly from the hard fucking session, you could feel the cum dripping out of you and onto the table and onto your thighs. Still not risking the glance around the room to see if people were staring, your eyes were glued to a button on Bucky’s chest instead.

“You ok, hot mama?”, Bucky asked with a hint of concern etched to his beautiful features, eyebrows raised slightly.

“Yeah”, your voice was only just audibly to him and you made the effort to look up into his eyes, the sight calming as he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. You were feeling a little bit spacey so seeing his emotions so visible on his face, helped to ground you slightly. “I... I don’t think I can walk”.

“That’s ok, I’ve got you honey”, his face physically relaxed as he leaned in to kiss your temple, taking off his jacket to pull around your shoulders whilst also helping to pull your dress back down. Once you were covered, he eased a hand under your knees, a hand on your back to pick you up into his arms. 

You gripped his neck tightly, hiding your face as the two of you left the restaurant, moving towards the car that waited for you three. Bucky helped to ease you into the back of the car, easing the seatbelt across your chest before sliding in next to you.

“Hey Romanoff, just waiting on the boss”,  Bucky greeted his bodyguard Natasha from the driving seat. She nodded her head before turning in her seat to look at you, smirking widely through her dark lashes.

“Hey sugar, have a good meal?” Natasha teased causing you to smile and flush.

“I don’t quite think I’ve had my fill yet”, you joked back, grasping Bucky’s arm for comfort and warmth. The red-haired women’s smirk broadened into a grin before she faced forward. You got on well with Natasha and enjoyed having her around as much as you did Sam.

Leaning your face against Bucky’s arm, you breathed in deeply, savouring in his aftershave, ready to eat and be naked once you all returned home.

[judesmoonbeauty]

Chaotic Night: William Rex

☾ CW: Gore, Blood - Just a smidge. ☾ MDNI: Brief, heavily suggestive theme. This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy is not guaranteed. Cybird owns everything. Thank you so much for your support, and I hope that you enjoy the story! ☾.

— Rained poured into the empty room.

A deep crimson rain, deeper than any ruby.

Amidst this, he walked while humming a tune along with the screams of anger and pain.

He laughs, not minding that the raindrops are sullying this body,

It’s so beautiful, it’s otherworldly…….

As if by some mysterious magnetism, I can’t take my eyes off him.

(Ahh……)

(…..How beautiful.)

— A few hours before.

The appearances of the cursed changed due to the “Queen of the Night” extract being mixed in because of Roger.

(Everyone looks different. Will is -)

William: Kate, is there anything wrong with your body?

Kate: Nope, I’m fine. But…Will, your head….!

Will had horns springing from his head. The curved horns that grew skyward were a gorgeous jet-black color.

William: …..It seems I took on this appearance thanks to the Queen of the Night extract.

Kate: Do you feel any pain in your body…?

William: I don’t feel any pain….but, I’m not pleased that I can’t lay my head in your lap.

Kate: I’m sorry. If I had been more alert, I could’ve prevented the contamination…

William: …No, you don’t need to apologize.

William: I was aware that Roger purposely placed the bottle on the table.

Kate: What?

(If that’s the case, why did Will just take the medicine….)

Kate: Will, you took the medicine because you trust Roger, right?

William: Indeed. …..Roger is a man who views us as prime test subjects.

William: Most likely, the Queen of the Night extract’s safety was tested on one person beforehand.

William: It’s been proven safe, and Roger’s cursed research is progressing,

William: There’s no reason not to cooperate. Wouldn’t you agree?

(William knew all of this, and still consumed the contents….)

(….There was no need for me to worry, or fret.)

Will accepted everything knowingly, and while I was relieved, at the same time a stain spread across my heart.

But, before I could realize what that stain was, Will smiled with a suggestion.

William: Just as our appearance has changed, so the strength of our curses have increased,

William: Don’t you think it’s a good night for condemnation?

Hearing that a criminal group who commits heinous deeds was holding a costume party on Halloween night,

William wore his horns, and I wore a simple costume.

—With that, the evil king’s condemnation began.

William: Those who’ve committed murder, must end their lives the same way.

Will’s cursed power and sins have amplified due to ingesting the extract for the Queen of the Night,

It became possible for him to exercise his ability on any who heard his voice, without looking in their eyes.

Will brings about death after death, as I walk along the hall with him.

William: Cut off the head of the subordinate you committed a crime with.

William: Shoot the vital points of the comrades you don’t like.

Chaotic, whimsical death sentences.

It’s likely that limiting the targets and killing them off slowly, is to instill terror and despair.

— And then, gleaming silver blades cut off chunks of flesh, and bullets pierce bodies from all angles.

Each time, dark red petals spray out, and rain down incessantly.

William: ~♪

As voices of pain and anger echo….William happily hums a tune.

However, the people realized this was something unusual, and started attacking us as we mixed in.

William: Those who try to harm us, should switch targets to their own companions.

With those words, the murderous intent aimed at us shifted to other people.

(Oh……)

(…..How beautiful.)

The fear I felt in my heart when I first saw these deeds, was no longer there.

I thought he was beautiful as he laughed while covered in blood.

William: I’m growing bored with these same deaths. It’s about time to end this.

William: Those who lament their own powerlessness in the face of my power….slice your throat.

As soon as the remainder heard Will’s voice, they picked up their weapons and held them against their necks.

The cruel act of the Queen of Hearts, is to decapitate them,

It will likely make headlines, and will be something to be feared by criminals.

However, they weren’t the only ones to respond to his voice —

(Huh……?)

—My hand moved involuntarily and grabbed the cold, gold knife I had hidden in my clothes.

Kate: …..

I comfortably held the knife to my throat, with my own hand.

I tried to ask Will for help, but my voice wouldn’t sound.

(This can’t be….! What should I do…like this…..)

Even as my hand shook at the fear of my impending death,

Perhaps, because of the power the curse had over my body, I didn’t drop the knife.

The blade of the knife glowed as it slowly tried to dig into my skin.

Just as I was on the verge —

William: ….I did not give you that knife to harm yourself with. Kate,

William grabbed my arm, stopping the knife from advancing.

Kate: W-ill……I…..

William: ….When I gave the order, I said, “Those who lament their own powerlessness in the face of my power.”

William: Do you feel powerless?

When I was asked that question, I remembered what happened at the castle before arriving at the venue.

[Flashback Begins]

William: It’s been proven safe, and Roger’s cursed research is progressing,

William: There’s no reason not to cooperate. Wouldn’t you agree?

(William knew all of this, and still consumed the contents….)

(….There was no need for me to worry, or fret.)

[Flashback Ends]

At that time, the identity of the stain that dropped into my heart, was a sense of powerlessness.

Kate: William, you can perceive everything, and your ability is heightened, you’re flawless……

Kate: I started thinking that maybe I didn’t need to worry….or try to protect you.

This led to my sense of powerlessness, which led to my listening to Will’s order.

William: Kate. I am a human being.

William: ….Since I am dressed like this today, perhaps that doesn’t go without saying.

As if to loosen up my stiffened heart, Will points to his horns saying this jokingly.

William: Since we’re human, there are good times, and there are bad times.

William: I just so happened to be in a good mood today, I don’t know what tomorrow brings.

William: In these uncertain days...do you really think that I don't need you from now on?

Kate: That’s….

Kate: …I don’t think that.

Kate: I want to say that there will be days that I can be your strength, Will……

The same time I said that, my grip loosened on the knife and it fell on the spot.

Perhaps, because my sense of powerlessness vanished, the effectiveness of the order ceased.

Will picks up the fallen knife and puts it back in my hand.

William: …I think so too.

William: I, need you. Kate, my beautiful and brave knight.

At the words of my loved one, the stain in my heart disappeared.

Then we kissed like we were drawn to each other.

Kate: Will….., no, more…..!

After completing our mission and returning to our room, Will immediately embraced me.

Like my body was saying what it needed, I was repeatedly pushed to the highest heights, until I let out whimpers.

William: …Really? If that’s the case, I’ll stop going so deep.

Will moved his hips to gently thrust into my shallow area, the stimulation was weaker, and it was frustrating.

Kate: Don’t, be mean…..

William: Wasn’t it “no more”.

Kate: ~~, It’s not no more.

Even though Will knows everything, he still wants me to say it though it’s embarrassing.

At that moment, I suddenly realized.

(Before on the mission, I almost died by Will’s order…..)

(Will would never do anything to put me in danger)

(Also, Will notices things my own heart isn’t aware of….)

(Maybe that order was meant to draw out my weakness, and resolve it)

William: …It seems like you’re thinking of something other than no more.

Kate: It’s about you, Will.

William: Hm? Then, I’ll listen, Kate.

William: To everything you think and feel…..

[Event Master List] Dividers: @.saradika-graphics/@.natimiles

Tags: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @letter-from-afar @nateko Please comment below if you wish to be included in translations!

This is only my second William translation....it's a learning curve, but I hope I didn't do too bad. They are mad about each other!

[blingblong55]

Mistake -141

Based on a request:

I've got a request for you! I got lost in my thoughts and thought of a prompt so sorry if it's a bit jumbled lol So it's like a wrong place wrong time kind of thing where the reader is mistaken for an enemy, and taken to the base. Maybe interrogated a bit before the 141 are told they have the actaul enemy on they way to them and they're like 'then who tf is this....oh shit....'

GN!Reader, angst, civilian!reader, mentions of torture.

141, one of the best military groups the British military has. As always, they have a target to chase after, this time it's in a small town. Their informant let them know it would be a person dressed in a completely different attire than they were used to. You happened to be walking back from your boring job when you passed their location.

"Bravo 0-6, we have eyes on the target," Gaz said over the radio. "Roger that," Price responded, Within seconds you felt as if someone was chasing you. And having that you watched a crime documentary the night before, you quickly thought of a way out. You walked normally but stayed in well-lit areas. The men thought you were just trying to play along with your facade. "Don't let 'em get away," Soap said from his location, his snipe pointed at you. You grabbed your pocket knife and held it in your hand. You walked faster towards a more public road. "Quick, Ghost!" Price ordered. You heard footsteps getting closer and closer.

You ran away, not daring to look back once. You took many detours until you were close to a nearby church, Church service had started but before you could even reach it, Ghost tackled you. "Don't hurt me!" you told him, your hands held high. He took your knife away and pointed his gun at your head, "Why the hell were you running?" You tried to stay calm but two other men approached you, Gaz and Price with their own guns pointed at you. "Soap, you got visual?" Price asked over the radio. "Yes, Sir" was the response, a red dot on your chest. You panicked.

"No please, you are mistaken." your desperate voice pleaded. "That's what they all say." Price growls and Gaz and Ghost drag you back to their temporary base. The entire way there, you cried and begged to be let go. "You have the wrong person, please I'm innocent!" you cried. Soap aggressively cupped your face, "Yer shut the fuck up, ye hear me?"

At base, they threw you to a mattress in an empty room. Wrists tied to the other, ankles tied as well. Your teary face looking at them. Your body is littered with lacerations. Limbs are weak but they wouldn't stop hitting you. You cry, "Please...I beg of you...please stop this" You receive another punch to the abdomen. "Don't you understand we will keep this up, you fucking killer." Gaz held a knife to you. Over the radio, the Delta team came on. "Bravo six, this is Delta 0-5, how copy?"

"This is Bravo six," Price said, his eyes piercing yours. "We found 'em, and are on our way back to base." Ghost gave Price a questioning look. Both men stepped outside of the room, leaving the two sergeants with you. "What do you mean you have the person with you, Delta Five?"

"All features you told us to look for, this person has it and they have admitted to being the subject."

"Fuckin' 'ell." Ghost murmured and rushed inside. "Sergeants, step away." He commanded. "Ghost they are talking now."

"Step away from the civilian, Soap," he advises and approaches you with caution. He kneels in front of you and unties you, "Are you alright?" He asks you with a soft tone. You were too weak to move, all you could do was stare. Whimpers of pain filled the room once Price walked back in and took a look at the injuries they had caused. "C'mon, we have to rush them to the medics." Your vision blurred. In all his years of being a soldier, Price had a day he regretted the most. And that was today, hurting an innocent, treating them as if they were the scum of the Earth. What fucked him up the most? The fact you died on the bed of the medical tent. Your body is weak, blood on the floor and how you died innocent and young, a poor civilian taken hostage, begging to be let out and no one heard.

That day, Task Force 141 lost another piece of their sanity, another stitch with emotions and another shattered glass to the oath they took to protect civilians. Ghost added you to his book of names, the list of all those he lost to war, by his hands, or by the cruelty his job brought. Another soul that Gaz ripped away because of orders, ones he always followed without question. Soap, the one who had the most blood on his hands, now regretted not listening to his instincts.

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday - Introductions

A/N: Entirely written on my phone. Apologies for errors!

A/N2: This chapter is mainly an introduction to the setting and the majority of the characters. It'll be different readers for each character (give or take).

Ok, first day, very important to not make an idiot of yourself. That's been your internal mantra for the entire commute. You've been really hoping it'll help you out today.

You've gotten a ticket to take to IT for your new work laptop but you got lost trying to find your way there. You look around at the signs, trying to figure it out when someone gently coughs to get your attention. Turning you see a tall, lean man with short blondish brown hair and light blue eyes.

"Do you need some help?" His accent and soft tone help soothe your nerves.

"Um..." you hesitate. "I'm, I'm trying to find the IT department?"

His eyes widen as he smiles, "you must be the new hire." You nod and he holds out his hand, "I'm Jonathan, manager of the IT department. I'll show you the way."

He talks as he guides you to the one section of the building you hadn't been to yet.

"Here is our own little corner of the world," Jonathan gestures around the open area. "For a new employee you're going to want to talk to Jake." He points to a young man with spiky hair, glasses and a goatee who's talking on the phone.

"Ain't gonna happen for a while." A large bear of a man with a beard and a bald top, wearing a Lynyrd Skinner shirt steps towards you. "He's helping that little old lady on the third floor that never remembers her password."

"Ah, yes," Jonathan winces. "She is quite the talker." He looks to you and introduces the second man as Syverson. "We both run the department but Sy is better at managing the employees while I'm better at convincing the higher ups to give us a better budget."

"One of th' smoothest talkers I've ever worked with," Sy grins. "As far as your laptop, you wait right here an' I'll go get from Walter. He's our main hardware guy. Then we'll get...hmmm." He looks around as he ponders.

"Johnny is currently mid battle with that hacker he keeps toying with," Jonathan muses. "How is Ransom's mood today?"

Sy snorts, "same as always. Definitely don't wanna scare the lady away." He snaps his fingers, "Rogers!"

A head pops out of a cubicle, "you call?"

"Got a new employee," Sy explains. "Gonna need you to help her get her laptop setup." Sy turns and heads to where you're guessing Walter is with the hardware you'll need.

You turn back to where Steve was situated and almost jump at seeing him so close. He's huge but you didn't hear him at all! The big and tall blonde man's eyes are shining with enthusiasm.

He holds out his hand and you introduce yourself. "It's nice to meet you. Not a lot of new people around here lately. I work with the designs for our internal programs. Me and Bucky," he gestures back to his cubicle, "work together on the UX and accessibility stuff for the external website."

"That's impressive," you nod, practically hypnotized by his eyes. And his muscles, if you're being honest with yourself.

Sy returns and hands Steve the laptop. "Follow me," Steve smiles as he turns. You try your best to fight the urge to ogle his ass. It's your first day and you don't want to already make a fool of yourself! No matter how handsome these guys are.

Steve takes you through the setup. He's incredibly patient and kind. Plus his voice could keep your attention forever. He's going through some of the standard company security stuff when there's a knock. You both turn and you see a burly man with a beanie and a beard so full you almost miss the lip piercing.

"Hey, Curtis. What's up?"

"Bucky's out getting another coffee," Curtis starts. "Need you to tell him I've got the code worked out for the next update and need him to check the legacy compatibility."

"Sure thing," Steve nods and Curtis heads back to whenever he'd been.

"Don't you have an internal communications thing for this?" You're surprised that someone has to intervene in the communication.

Steve chuckles as he pulls out his phone. "Bucky never responds to work stuff while he's out, even just to a cafe. But there's a time crunch on this and I'm the only person he'll actually check his phone for."

"Oh," is all you can say.

Steve finishes his text and gets back to your training. When you're done you thank him for everything and he blushes a little.

"If you want I can help you with the physical setup at your desk?" He almost looks like he's pleading for you to say yes.

"It won't be a problem? I don't want to get you in trouble."

"Not at all," he assures. "Besides, I don't want to be here for the upcoming Bucky and Curtis debate."

You giggle nervously, "ok. And thank you!"

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82 ; @ronearoundblindly

Also tagging @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory to test if this post is working!

Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

[brunchable]

The Stakeout: Day 3 || Steve Rogers x Agent!FReader.

Day One | Two | Four Words: 4.2K Themes/Warnings: Unspoken feelings towards each other. Growing tension. Sexual Attraction. Eventual Smut. Being stuck with each other. Summary: You came too close from being compromised by the enemy target and the first idea you could think of was to K-I-S-S Steve. A/N: Ayo . . . We getting close lmfao.

Tags: @lafrone @moviegurl2002 @haruvalentine4321 @blankmoniker

You slept really well. Last night's sleep was different from the cold, restless nights you’ve been enduring—it’s a comforting warmth, the kind that makes you want to stay curled up in bed for just a little longer.

Your eyes flutter open, and it takes you a moment to realize that you’re still cuddling against Steve. At some point during the night, you must have shifted closer, because your head is now resting on his chest, your arm draped across his stomach. His arm is around you, holding you close, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Hm, this is nice.

For a few heartbeats, you just lie there, your mind still groggy from sleep, trying to process the situation. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. It’s nice. Comforting. But as the haze of sleep begins to lift, the realization of just how close you are—how tangled up you’ve become—hits you like a bucket of cold water.

Your eyes snap open fully, and you quickly lift your head, your heart skipping a beat as you realize just how intimately you’re pressed against him. Steve’s eyes flutter open at the sudden movement, for a split second, the two of you just stare at each other, wide-eyed and too stunned to move.

Then, in an unspoken agreement, you both scramble to disentangle yourselves, practically leaping out of bed in your haste to put some distance between you.

“Uh, morning,” Steve mumbles, his voice hoarse from sleep, running a hand through his cow-licked hair. He’s clearly flustered, his cheeks tinged with a faint pink that you’ve never seen before.

“Morning,” you reply, your voice a little too high-pitched as you quickly busy yourself with anything that will distract you from the awkwardness of the situation. 

You smooth down your pajamas, tugging at the hem of your tank, anything to avoid looking at him. The silence that follows is deafening. Out of the corner of your eye, you see him moving around the small apartment, his movements a little too purposeful, as if he’s trying just as hard as you are to pretend that nothing unusual happened. He grabs his coffee mug, but his hands are a bit too shaky, and he nearly spills it as he pours himself a cup.

You decide to follow his lead, grabbing your own mug and pouring yourself some coffee. The routine of it, the familiar motions, help to steady your nerves, but you can still feel the aftershocks of that moment in bed, the way your heart refuses to calm down.

“So,” Steve begins awkwardly, clearing his throat as he finally glances in your direction, though he quickly looks away. “We should probably check in with Fury?” 

You latch onto the change in subject with relief, eager to focus on something—anything—other than the fact that you woke up in his arms. 

“Yeah,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. “He probably needs to know the report for yesterday.”

Steve nods, still avoiding your gaze as he takes a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, that’s… that’s what I was thinking too.”

There’s a brief, awkward silence where you both just stand there, holding your mugs like they’re shields against the morning’s awkwardness.

“So, um…” You gesture vaguely with your mug, trying to find something to say that isn’t related to the fact that you woke up in his arms. “I’ll… get dressed?”

“Right, yeah,” Steve says quickly, nodding a little too enthusiastically. “Good idea. I’ll, uh… I’ll do that too. I mean, not with you. Separately. I’ll get dressed separately. In another room. You know what, I'll just turn around.”

You can’t help but laugh at how flustered he sounds. “Steve—”

But he’s already turning his back to you, his posture stiff with awkwardness. “No, no, I’ll just… I’ll give you some privacy.”

You roll your eyes playfully as you reach for your clothes. “You’re a real gentleman, Rogers. Not even gonna sneak a peek?”

Steve nearly chokes on his coffee, his face turning a deeper shade of pink. “I—uh—no! Of course not!”

“Relax, I’m just messing with you. You can turn back around once I’m dressed.” You grin, enjoying how easy it is to fluster him.

“Right, yeah. I’ll just… stare at the wall,” he mutters, clearly trying to regain his composure.

As you change into your clothes, you can’t help but chuckle to yourself at the absurdity of the situation. Here you are, two highly trained professionals, acting like awkward teenagers. It’s almost endearing.

Finally, you finish getting dressed and clear your throat. “Okay, you can turn around now.”

Steve turns back around, looking relieved that the ordeal is over. “Great. I’ll, uh… get ready too.”

You nod, giving him a little more space as he quickly grabs his clothes and starts to change. This time, you’re the one turning away, focusing intently on your coffee as you try not to think about how nice it would be to wake up like that every day.

“So,” Steve says again as he pulls on his shirt, “about checking in with Fury…”

“Yeah, we’ll do that after we… you know, finish getting ready,” you reply, trying to sound casual.

“Right,” he agrees, but then hesitates. “And, uh… about this morning… I just want to say…”

You brace yourself, expecting another round of awkward apologies, but instead, he surprises you.

“It was nice,” he says softly, his voice sincere. “Waking up like that. I mean, not that I—well, you know what I mean.”

You’re caught off guard by his honesty, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. But then you smile, feeling a warmth spread through you that has nothing to do with the coffee.

“Yeah, it was,” you mumble, your tone softening. “It was… nice.”

× × × ×

After a quick meal, you found yourselves back at your posts, watching the building across the street with the same careful attention you’d maintained the past few days. The day was quiet, the hours dragging by with little to show for it, and you were starting to think that today would be just as uneventful as the days before.

But then, just after lunch, something changed.You spotted movement in one of the windows of the building you were surveilling. It was subtle, just a shadow passing by, but it was enough to put you both on high alert.

“Did you see that?” you whispered, leaning slightly closer to Steve as you strained to get a better look.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice low, tense. “Something's about to happen.”

The two of you watched in silence as the door of the building opened, and a man stepped out. He looked around suspiciously, clearly on edge, and you felt your heart rate pick up. This could be it—the moment you’d been waiting for.

But as the man lingered in the doorway, his gaze sweeping the street, you realized something: he was waiting for something—or someone. You exchanged a quick glance with Steve, your stomach twisting with unease. If he saw you, if he realized you were watching, the entire mission could be compromised.

“We need to stay low,” Steve muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “If he sees us—”

But it was too late. As if sensing your presence, the man’s eyes suddenly snapped to the window where you and Steve were hiding. His gaze zeroed in on you, his expression darkening with suspicion. Your heart stopped, your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with him, knowing that you had only seconds to act.

“Kiss me.” You blurted out.

“What?” Steve almost snapped his neck turning his attention towards you.

Panic surged through you, and without thinking, you reached out, grabbing Steve’s shirt and pulling him close. His eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t resist. You had to do something—anything—to divert the man’s attention before he realized what you were really doing.

Acting purely on instinct, you tugged Steve down toward you, pressing your lips to his in a sudden, desperate kiss.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as your lips met his. The tension, the panic, everything melted away, leaving only the heat of the kiss, the way Steve’s body pressed against yours, the way his hand instinctively cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer.

The kiss was meant to be a cover, a way to make the man think you were just a couple stealing a private moment. But it quickly escalated to something deeper.

Steve’s initial shock gave way to a response that sent a shiver down your spine. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that took your breath away, his other arm slipping around your waist to pull you flush against him.

For a moment, you forgot where you were, why you were doing this. All you could think about was the way Steve was kissing you, the way he was holding you, like he never wanted to let go.

Reality crashed back in. You forced yourself to pull back, your breath coming in short, shaky gasps as you broke the kiss. Steve’s eyes were dark, intense, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stared at you.

But there was no time to dwell on it. You quickly glanced over Steve’s shoulder, your heart pounding as you checked to see if the man was still watching.

He was.

The man’s eyes were locked on the two of you, his expression still suspicious, but now there was something else in his gaze—something calculating. You could see him weighing his options, trying to decide if what he saw was genuine or a ruse.

“We have to sell it,” you whispered urgently, your voice trembling slightly.

Steve’s eyes flicked to the window, understanding immediately. Without hesitation, his hand buried itself in your hair and tilted your head back, taking your lips, his tongue slid silkily within the warmth of yours. 

Your hands find themselves on the back of his neck, and a moan vibrates low in your throat as his tongue invades your mouth, his taste unfamiliar and darkly seductive at the same time. This kiss was slower, more deliberate, really trying to convince the man watching that this was real—that you were just a couple, too wrapped up in each other to notice anything else.

You tried not to get in too deep, but it was nearly impossible when Steve was kissing you like this. He groans, his hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you even closer. A soft gasp escaped you and Steve used the opportunity to deepen his kiss. You feel the growing tension in his powerful body. His breathing speeds up, and his kiss turns hard, devouring, making your body throb in response. Your hips began to grind on his still covered cock, instinctively, while pressing himself against you, gripping your hip.

You risked another glance out of the corner of your eye. You tried to turn your head, but Steve claimed your mouth again. You couldn’t prevent the low moan of pleasure that escaped you as he continued to escalate. Your body begins to pulse in anticipation, your nipples tightening under the fabric of your shirt. 

The man was still there, but his suspicion seemed to be wavering. He hesitated, his gaze narrowing as he watched you both, but then he shook his head slightly, as if dismissing the idea that you were anything other than what you appeared to be. He turned and walked away, disappearing back into the building.

× × × × 

STEVE’S POV

Shit.

Her touch is strangely innocent and uncertain. I can taste her, feel her, and the urge to fuck her is so strong I shudder with it. I know I should stop, push her away, but I can’t. Her kiss is the sweetest thing I’ve ever felt. When I think I can’t bear much more, her hot little mouth moves to my jaw and then trails down my neck, kissing and nibbling with the same torturous gentleness. Her hands release my face and slide down my body, her fingers closing around the bottom edge of my shirt.

She begins to lift my shirt, and I groan as her knuckles brush against my naked sides, her touch leaving my skin burning in its wake. 

“Y/N . . .” I suck in my breath as she scoots down and kneels between my spread legs, her face at the level of my navel. “Y/N, you need to stop teasing me.” 

She ignores my directive, keeping my shirt bunched up. 

“Who’s teasing?” she whispers, looking up at me. And before I can respond, she leans in and places a warm, damp kiss on my stomach. 

Fuck. 

My entire body jerks, my balls tightening on a savage surge of lust. The sight of her kneeling there pushes my buttons in all the wrong ways, calling to my darkest desires. My hands knot into fists, and I take short, deep breaths, reminding myself that we're working right now. We need to be on high alert.

Except she’s licking my stomach now. Fucking licking it. Tracing each muscle indentation with her tongue, like she’s trying to imprint it on her memory. 

“Y/N.” My voice is hoarse. “That’s enough. He's gone.” 

She pulls back, looking up at me through those long, thick lashes of hers, “Are you sure?” she murmurs, still not letting go of my shirt. “Because I think I want more.” 

And leaning in again, she scrapes her teeth over my lower abs, then sucks on the spot, her mouth hot and wet on my bare skin. Skin that’s right next to the throbbing cock still confined in my pants. 

I see Y/N smile deepen as her eyes flick to the bulge in my jeans. The little witch knows exactly what she’s doing to me, what kind of effect she’s having on my body.

Fucking hell.

“Y/N . . .” I can barely form the words, my fingers digging into the window sill in an effort not to grab her. She release my shirt and fiddles with my belt buckle instead—

Bee-Beep. Bee-Beep

The beeping of the satellite phone was like a force that drove me back to reality, shattering the charged atmosphere that had wrapped around us. My mind was still clouded with the intense desire Y/N had stirred in me, but I forced myself to focus, to shove it all aside. I nearly tripped over my own feet as I scrambled for the phone, my heart hammering in my chest.

I clicked the button, bringing the phone to my ear, my breath still coming too fast. “Hello… Fury, yes,” I managed, my voice rough with the remnants of lust that hadn’t fully faded. 

As I spoke, I shot a glance at Y/N, who had moved to lean against the window, her arms crossed and her gaze avoiding mine. The tension between us was still thick, lingering in the air, but it was cut by the sharp edge of Fury’s voice on the other end of the line.

Fury didn’t waste any time. “Rogers, we’ve got a situation. A high-priority operative is heading your way. I’m sending you the details now. Be prepared to change your plans at a moment’s notice.”

Fury’s tone was sharp, no room for error. “And Rogers… don’t let your guard down. This guy is dangerous. Expect the unexpected.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, the line going dead a second later. I lowered the phone, my mind racing to process everything at once. The surge of desire, the need for control, the impending threat—everything was clashing inside me. I turned back to Y/N, who was still watching me, with an unreadable expression.

× × × ×

Your POV

Steve hastily ran towards the phone, almost tripping over his feet as he tried to reach for it just in time. He clicks the button and picks up, “Hello. . . Fury, yes.” Steve gives you a stern glance as you stood up and leaned on the window with your arms now crossed

“Yes, sir.” Steve replied to the phone firmly before hanging up the phone. Steve sighed and tossed the phone on the table. 

The silence that followed was painful, punctuated only by the sound of Steve’s pacing as he moved back and forth across the small room. The shift in his demeanor was jarring—gone was the man who had been just moments away from losing control with you, replaced by the disciplined soldier, all focus and intense. It was like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over the both of you, extinguishing the heat of the moment.

Your arms crossed tighter over your chest as you leaned against the window, your mind racing with regret and confusion. What the hell was I thinking? The question echoed in your mind, over and over again, with no clear answer. 

The desire that had driven you to push him that far, to test the boundaries of your partnership, now seemed reckless, foolish even. You could barely stand to look at Steve, not with the way he was pacing, his mind clearly focused on the mission and nothing else.

He stopped suddenly, his hand still on his hip, and let out a long sigh. He turned to you, the sternness was still there, and you braced yourself for whatever he was going to say.

“Y/N,” he started, his voice low but firm, “we need to talk about what just happened.”

You bit your lip, not sure if you were ready for this conversation, but knowing you couldn’t avoid it. 

“I know,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. “I… I’m sorry, Steve. That was out of line. I don’t know what came over me.”

Steve shook his head, stepping closer, his eyes locking onto yours. “Don’t apologize. I’m just as responsible for what happened. But I need to be clear about something—this mission, our focus, it can’t be compromised. Not by anything, even… this.”

“I know. You’re right. I lost sight of that for a moment, but it won’t happen again.” You nodded, your throat tight as you struggled to find the right words. 

He studied you for a long moment, his expression softening just slightly, as if he could see the turmoil you were feeling. “We’re both under a lot of pressure, and things like this… they happen. We can’t afford any distractions alright?”

“I understand,” you said, meeting his gaze head-on. “I’ll stay focused. I won’t let this interfere with the mission.”

He took a deep breath, as if steadying himself. “Once this is over, we’ll figure out what to do about… us. But for now, we have to push it aside.”

“Okay,” you agreed, though the words felt heavy on your tongue. “We’ll deal with it later.”

He gave you a small, tight-lipped smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Right. Now, let’s get back to work.”

The room fell into silence again, but this time it was different. The weight of what had happened, and what had almost happened, lingered in the air between you. 

As Steve turned back to the table, gathering his gear, you couldn’t help but glance at him out of the corner of your eye. You wanted to reach out, to say something, anything that might ease the tension between you, but the words wouldn’t come.

So instead, you followed his lead, forcing yourself to focus on the task at hand. The mission was all that mattered now. Everything else would have to wait. But deep down, you knew that once this was all over, there would be no going back to the way things were. The line had been crossed, and nothing would ever be the same.

× × × ×

The night dragged on, the silence between you and Steve almost as heavy as the darkness that filled the room. After Fury’s call, you both took up positions by the window, watching the building next door with unwavering focus. But as the hours ticked by with no sign of movement, the tension began to ease, replaced by a bone-deep weariness.

It was now 3 a.m., and nothing had happened. Not even the slightest flicker of light or shadow from the target’s location. The adrenaline that had kept you alert earlier in the night had long since faded, leaving you fighting to keep your eyes open. You shifted slightly, trying to push away the fatigue that was pulling you under, but it was no use. You tried to stay alert, tried to keep your eyes open and your focus on the mission, but your body had other plans. You found yourself nodding off, your head dipping lower each time, only to snap back up as you jolted awake, determined not to let sleep overtake you.

But the battle was futile. Each time your eyes closed, they stayed shut a little longer. The room around you blurred into shadows, and before you knew it, your head rested against the back of the chair, and you were drifting off completely.

STEVE'S POV

I watched as Y/N finally gave in to sleep, her head resting against the back of the chair, her breathing becoming slow and even. She’d fought so hard to stay awake, to keep watch alongside me, but it was clear she couldn’t hold out any longer. The day had taken its toll on both of us, but I couldn’t help feeling a surge of protectiveness as I watched her sleep.

I knew she couldn’t stay like this—curled up in an uncomfortable chair, vulnerable to the aches and stiffness that would come when she woke. She needed proper rest, especially with what might lie ahead. Quietly, I stood from my own chair, moving toward her with careful, measured steps.

As I reached her, I hesitated for just a moment, taking in the sight of her peaceful face. Then, gently, I slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her back, lifting her with ease. She stirred slightly as I cradled her against my chest, but she didn’t wake. The trust she had in me, even unconsciously, made something tighten in my chest, but I pushed the feeling aside. There would be time to sort through all of that later.

I reached the bed and slowly lowered her onto it, my movements gentle, careful not to wake her. As I laid her down, she instinctively curled into the blanket, her hand clutching the edge as she settled into the softness. But before I could step back, something held me there, something that made it impossible to look away.

For a long moment, I just stood there, staring down at her. She looked so peaceful, so vulnerable, the usual tension and guardedness gone from her features. The way her lashes rested softly against her cheeks, the slight parting of her lips as she breathed, the delicate curve of her neck—it all captivated me in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

And then, without thinking, I reached out, my fingers brushing a stray lock of hair away from her face. The touch was light, barely there, but it sent a shiver down my spine. My hand lingered, hovering just above her skin, as if part of me was afraid to break the spell of the moment.

God, she was beautiful. Not just in the way she looked, but in everything she was—strong, determined, fiercely loyal. She had this fire inside her that drew me in, made it impossible for me to stay away, even when I knew I should. And now, seeing her like this, so calm and serene, it hit me just how deeply I cared for her.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, the emotions I’d been trying to suppress rising to the surface. The urge to lean down, to press a soft kiss to her forehead, to her lips, was almost overwhelming. But I held back, knowing that this wasn’t the time. It wasn’t fair to her, to us, to act on these feelings when so much was at stake.

But standing there, looking down at her, it was impossible not to imagine a different world—one where we weren’t in the middle of a mission, where the dangers weren’t so immediate, where we could be together without fear or hesitation. A world where I could tell her everything that was in my heart, where I could love her the way she deserved to be loved.

The intensity of those thoughts made my breath catch, and I had to force myself to step back, to break the connection. But before I did, I let my fingers trace lightly across her temple, down to her jaw, memorizing the feel of her skin beneath my touch.

“Y/N…” I whispered, so softly that the words barely escaped my lips. But the sound, the feeling, hung in the air between us, charged with all the things I couldn’t say out loud.

She stirred slightly in her sleep, a small sigh escaping her lips, and I froze, watching her settle back into peaceful slumber. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, and I couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection.

Finally, I forced myself to turn away, every step back to the window feeling heavier than the last. I took my seat, resuming my watch, but my mind was far from clear. The image of her sleeping face, the way she looked so content and beautiful, was burned into my mind.

I was in love with her—completely, irrevocably—and there was no going back from that.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Temporary Custody"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve x ofc x Bucky; Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 4042

Tags: Dom/sub, bdsm au, dom Bucky, sub reader, hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, gay sex'n'stuff, straight sex'n'stuff, Steve being a literal Golden Retriever, mental health issues, dub-con, forced submission, referenced childhood abuse and resultant mental health issues, bakery au, m/f/m, gentle domination, total power exchange

Summary: The stigma and shame of being a submissive has kept Mary unfulfilled and in the closet her whole life, until an inciting incident leads to Bucky and Steve taking her in and giving her everything she was always too afraid to ask for.

Trigger warnings: This story contains themes of eating disordered behavior, body image issues, childhood abuse, self-harm, and alcohol abuse.

Wait! I haven't read an earlier chapter of this fic! Story Masterpost

5. Jiggly Soufflé Cake

Steve

“I should be in there,” Bucky says again, making Steve roll his eyes.

They’re sitting next to each other, out in the waiting room at the Center. It’s been over an hour, but Steve remembers how the intake worker had told them that Mary’s evaluation wouldn’t be short. Already, he’s read through half the crappy magazine selection. He lets the edge of an outdated issue of Dominant Monthly flop down to his lap. “Babe …”

“It’s taking too long. What if they’re harassing her or—”

“You know that’s not true. The people here are good. You’re just trying to control everything,” he reminds Bucky.

“If I was in there I could—”

“Get in the way. She needs to feel like she can express herself.”

“What if she’s not honest? What if Linda’s not asking her the right—”

“Buck, stop,” Steve says, injecting some command into his voice. Bucky might be the Dom, but Steve can put his foot down with his husband when needed. “The therapist knows what she’s doing. All the people here do. This is what they do.”

They’re at the Center for Designated Peoples, the place where people like Bucky go for … well, anything related to their dominance or submission needs. That’s all Steve really knows. He knows that Bucky has been in and out of CDPs since he was a kid. “It took almost a week to get her this appointment, alright? You want to mess that up?”

Bucky grumbles. “No.”

“Good. Cause they don’t need you in there, interfering in her assessment. So sit tight.”

Bucky shuts up after that, satisfying Steve that he’s made his point.

“Well, what do you think?” Bucky eventually says, when another ten minutes have passed and the door to the therapist’s office is still closed. “Of her?”

Steve glances over. “You mean in general?”

“Sure. Whatever.”

Steve can tell when Bucky’s being defensive. “You like her,” he says. “And not just cause of her lemon tarts.” He’d seen him looking at weighted blankets on Amazon, yesterday. “Admit it,” he prods, nudging Bucky’s shoe with his. “You can tell me how you feel. Why d’you need me to qualify it for you, first?

“Because I’m married to you, not her,” Bucky snaps. “Jesus, Rogers. Never met a man with less self-preservation instincts than you.”

“Mmhm. Aand?”

“... Okay I’m drawn to her,” Bucky says. “But I can’t tell how much of that is instinct and how much is normal people stuff.”

“‘Normal people stuff’,” Steve echoes, amused.

“I want to know what you think of her.” Bucky kicks his shoe back. “Tell me.”

“I like her too,” Steve concedes. “It’s not just you.” He can see as Bucky’s shoulders relaxing a little bit, knows that his opinion matters to his husband. “She’s different. Plain, but …” Steve searches for the right word. ‘Cute’ doesn’t seem right. She’s too prickly for that and too old besides. She’s a woman, not a girl, and he’s not just trying to describe her physical appearance. “I don’t know,” he says. “Editorial?”

“Editorial?” Bucky scowls. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“I dunno, just, not off the rack. Different.” Bucky snatches the magazine out of his lap and chucks it back to the coffee table. Steve rolls his eyes. “Wish she wasn’t so defensive, though. And I wish we could’ve met her … you know, like on a date or at the gym or something.”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah.”

“She grows on you,” Steve decides. Like an angry, stray cat. That’s dirty and scraggy a little.

“She’s pretty,” Bucky offers, but the words fall flat. They can both see that she’s attractive, that isn’t news. Bucky and Steve are attractive people themselves. They aren’t hurting for opportunities to be with attractive women (or men), if they want to. And it’s been a while since they invited another person into their bed. But …

“I haven’t been with a woman since my twenties,” Steve mumbles, thinking about it. He glances at Bucky. “You have.”

They both know Bucky was dating women casually when he met Steve, years ago. “Yeah,” he says simply.

“You ever miss ‘em? Women?” Steve kind of does sometimes. He likes how soft they are; the contrast. It had taken him a couple of dates and a few glasses of wine, back when they’d first gotten together, to admit to Bucky that he was bi. Steve had told him that, and then Bucky had disclosed his designation status. “We used to talk about the whole poly thing a lot more.”

“Hm, yeah I guess.” Bucky shrugs and reaches to take his hand. Steve gives it a squeeze. “I dunno babe. Kind of hard to think about anybody else when I’ve got you around.” He gives him a lecherous look that makes Steve glad they’re the only ones in the waiting room. “Your hot body’s been enough to keep my attention.” His eyes drag up and down Steve, mentally undressing him.

Steve feels heat creep up his neck and he chuckles, pushing Bucky’s hand away. “Stoppit. Jerk. I’m a person.”

“Punk,” Buck smirks. “You like it.”

“Shuddup. Not here. God, you’re such a creep.” They’re both grinning—probably like complete, horny letches—when the door to the therapist’s office opens.

The professionally dressed woman offers them a friendly smile. “Bucky, Steve.”

“Hey Linda,” Bucky greets.

“How’d it go, Doctor?” Steve asks, not on as informal terms with the CDP staff as his husband is. “Is she …”

“Mary is fine. Would you like to come in and talk with us?”

Bucky is immediately standing from his chair. “Yep.”

Steve has to refrain from rolling his eyes. He grabs Bucky’s wrist. “Hang on now, Buck. Maybe she doesn’t want us in there. We should try and give her choices where we can.”

Doctor Linda surprises him by saying, “Actually, Mary says she’s fine with discussing this all together.”

Bucky shoots him a smug look and tugs his wrist back. “See?”

This time Steve does roll his eyes, but he nods at Linda and gets up to follow her back into the office.

Bucky

Bucky can recall very clearly the first time he’d been told he had a mental illness. He’d been ten, had been sent to the school shrink for misbehavior. He remembers how his mom had come in, harried about being called off from work when her kid wasn’t even sick. Bucky had felt bad about that, had felt like he’d done something wrong (well, he had scrubbed Trixie Wallace’s face into a mud puddle at recess).

But still, even at ten years old he’d been smart enough to know that this meeting with his mom and the counselor was more serious than another simple admonition or in-school suspension.

Long story short, His mom wound up reacting with something like embarrassment, and Bucky had wound up internalizing that for a long time, feeling like his “condition” was something to be kept private and not discussed.

Now, he sits in Linda’s office and makes sure to exude an air of calm and acceptance. He doesn’t want Mary to be embarrassed about this like he was. It helps that times have changed a bit since Bucky was a kid, and he knows this particular Center very well. They do good work with the designated community. Bucky knows that no one here is going to announce to Mary that she’s a deviant.

Mary’s sitting in her own chair, separate from where Bucky and Steve share the couch. Even though Bucky’s instinct is to tell her to come sit with them, he holds back. He knows that the seating arrangement is likely purposeful on Linda’s part. He tries to remember Steve’s words about giving Mary choices where they can. Domination may be what she needs, but too much of a good thing, administered too fast, can still be harmful.

“High needs,” Steve is saying, echoing what Linda’s just told them. “... So, she’s like Bucky, but submissive?”

“Yes,” Linda confirms. “We did the assessment twice, and both times Mary tested at the far end of the spectrum.”

“Fantastic,” Mary mutters.

“We’ve been discussing what this might mean for her care plan, going forward. Mary has several other issues that I believe tie into her unfulfilled needs as a submissive.”

“I don’t understand how it went undiagnosed for so long,” Bucky says, feeling vaguely upset about it. “Doc?”

She shrugs. “Mary’s from a part of the country where mental health awareness isn’t so advanced. They didn’t test in the public school system where she grew up.” Mary makes a quiet noise of discontent and Linda adds, “So we’ve been talking about the physiology of it, the role of neurotransmitters and how important it is for her to be dropped regularly. And we’ve discussed what that might look like, different options she has.”

“Options?”

Here, Linda hesitates. “Well … Mary has expressed an interest in taking advantage of the Center’s social programs.”

“No,” Bucky says right away. “Absolutely not.”

“She said you do it,” Mary counters, and when Bucky looks over he finds her glaring at him. “Apparently, I don’t need you after all. I can just come here and hook up with any old body.”

“I’m your legal guardian right now,” Bucky reminds her. “And the clubs are for people who know what they’re doing. It’s too unstructured for you. You need more stability than that.”

Mary scoffs and crosses her arms, but Dr. Linda is already nodding in agreement. “I think Bucky’s right, Mary,” she says gently. “A reliable, dominant partner and regular drops in a safe space are what you need right now.”

“Why can’t you just write me a prescription or something?” Mary complains. “You said it was a brain chemistry thing, so why not?”

Linda looks uncomfortable as she explains, “Medication is usually only considered as a last ditch treatment option … and with your substance use disorder and other issues I'd rather not —”

“I am not an alcoholic!”

“No meds,” Bucky says, hating that idea. “Come on, Mary. You don’t want to be drugged up, do you?”

She glares at him. “You just want to control me.”

He fights very, very hard not to roll his eyes. “Yeah,” he quips. “That’s kind of the whole point.”

Mary groans and slumps back into the cushions of her chair, looking put out. “This sucks.”

“It’s manageable,” Linda reminds gently.

"I don't want to be this way," she mumbles. "'High needs'. It's embarrassing."

“It's no different than needing air, or food or sleep,” Steve supplies. “You guys just have this extra thing.”

Mary makes a face, probably at being lumped into the ‘you guys’ category with Bucky. “So, what’s the plan then?” she asks mulishly, crossing her arms. “We go back to your place and you break out the whips and chains?”

Bucky barks out a laugh before he can stop himself. “Oh, honey. I promise there aren’t any chains.” He winks at her. “I prefer leather.”

Mary

After the therapist, it gets a little easier to be around Steve and Bucky. Mary’s still quick to anger, thinking about the situation that she's managed to get herself into, but there are some ameliorating factors to the situation.

Having an official diagnosis—no matter how much she doesn’t want this diagnosis—is at least a starting point. Mary doesn’t have to keep exhausting herself, arguing with Bucky that she’s not a sub. She is. That’s that.

And when he takes it upon himself to speak with Mary’s boss about her situation (effectively getting him to unfire her for the multiple days of work she’s missed) some more of Mary’s contempt for Bucky slips away.

“Thank you,” she says quietly once they leave the café, her next shift already scheduled for that upcoming Monday. “ I … this job, it means a lot to me.”

“I know.” Bucky says simply, though Mary can see the self-satisfaction in his posture. He takes her hand as they walk together down the sidewalk, and to Mary it feels like some sort of test, like he’s waiting for her to pull away.

So she forces herself to curl her fingers around his and keep holding his hand.

Again, she can practically feel the reaction coming off of him. He’s pleased with her. Mary’s cheeks flush from the domineering squeeze he gives her hand from time to time as they walk, and she’s grateful that she can blame it on the day’s chilly air.

Doctor Linda had explained everything, of course, when Mary went in for the assessment. The testing hadn’t been what she was expecting, hadn’t been embarrassing or invasive. And, perhaps most disappointing of all, it hadn’t been predictable. Mary hadn’t felt like she knew which way to fake her responses, to get the test to declare her mentally fit. So she’d answered honestly. 

And where had that gotten her? Lumped into the same group of deviants as James Bucky Barnes. “High needs”—God it sounds awful.

“It’s not necessarily sexual,” Linda tells her at her second appointment. “Or, well … it doesn’t have to be, at least. There are ways around it, if you really need an asexual dynamic.”

Mary nods along, but inside she thinks about the last time Bucky scolded her or praised her or held her hand on the sidewalk. She thinks about when he’d put his hand on her throat and applied pressure. Thinking about those things doesn’t make her feel asexual at all.

The first time Bucky doms her in a coordinated manner, she’s actually unaware of what he’s doing at first. It’s one of Mary’s  three days off and she’s terribly bored, researching how to make grapefruit soda caviar and wondering if there’s a gym nearby that she could join. She hasn’t exercised in weeks, and honestly, if there’s even the slightest chance that she’s going to wind up being naked in front of Bucky or Steve (or, oh god, both of them), then she really feels like she needs to work out.

Scratching fingernails over the skin of her lower stomach, she googles nearby gyms, finds one that looks decent, and tells Steve that she’s headed out to go join. She’s tying one sneaker when Steve objects.

“Oh but wait,” he says. “Um, Bucky’s going to be home soon. And I think he uh, I think he had plans. … For us.”

Mary raises an eyebrow. She likes Steve—thinks he’s kind of a big, beefy sweetheart, actually—but sometimes his devotion to Bucky and what Bucky wants is annoying. “Fine, you stay here and tell him where I went. I’ve got to get out of this apartment.” And out from under you and your bossy husband’s constant supervision. “Got to … I dunno, burn off some steam.”

Bucky’s timing is impeccable. He comes through the door just as she’s bending over to lace up her other sneaker. His arms are full of plastic grocery bags, which he dumps onto the kitchen counter with fanfare. "Honey, I'm home."

“What happened to using the reusable bags?” Steve drawls, earning an eye roll from Bucky.

“Forgot 'em.”

“Mmhm.”

“Shut up.” Bucky’s grinning at his husband, until he catches sight of Mary crouched in her gym clothes. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks her.

“None of your business,” she snips, standing back up and heading for the front door.

“Stop right there, Princess.”

Oh. Well that’s a new one. Mary turns back around with what she’s sure is an incredulous look. “‘Princess’?”

Bucky smiles warmly and drags her over to inspect the groceries that are in the bags. She’s quick to catalog: eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk. “What?” she asks, looking up at him. “You think I’m going to cook for you?”

“Oh I know you’re going to cook for me,” he says calmly, taking dry goods out of one of the bags and arranging them in the pantry. “Bake, in fact.”

Mary might stare a little, maybe with her lips parted. She feels equal parts annoyed and intrigued by his audacity. Something vaguely squirmy and warm stirs in her. She's planning on throwing some haughty quip back at him, maybe casually threatening poisoning, but somehow what comes out of her mouth is a subservient, “Well … what do you want me to make?”

He turns back around with bright eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you can come up with something,” he practically purrs. He gets right up in her space and says, “Something … delectable.”

Mary has to avert her gaze and turn away. She says a quick prayer that he hadn’t been close enough to hear the little hitch in her breath, then tries to focus her attention on cataloging the ingredients the jerk has brought her. Eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk …

Hadn’t she … hadn’t she been going out somewhere? Oh yeah, right. The gym.

She squeaks when Bucky claps a cheerful hand on her shoulder and gives her a squeeze. “Good girl,” he simpers, then walks over to the couch and flops down next to Steve, giving him a kiss hello. They proceed to chat with each other and chat about their days like Mary isn’t standing less than twenty feet away in the kitchen.

She suddenly feels like some 1950’s housewife. … One with damp panties, now that Bucky’s called her that right in her ear. Christ. Had Steve heard? She glances back over to them, but they’re not looking her way. Mary flushes and looks back down at the countertop. Eggs, butter, flour, sugar, milk. She tries to think if she has everything she might need for soufflé cakes.

“How can something so plain be so good?” Steve wonders at the dinner table, where he’s squinting closely at his third helping of dessert like he can glean answers from it. “And what is it?”

“Satisfying,” Bucky says sagely. “That’s the secret.”

“The secret is buttermilk. And it’s cake, Steve. Just eat it.”

“How’re those dishes coming, Doll?” Bucky calls back, shooting her a sly look from over his shoulder. Mary resists the urge to stick her tongue out at him and dunks her hands back into the soapy sink water. 

Steve pokes the jiggly cake with his fork. “What are yooou?” 

By the time they’re finished with dinner and dessert (and dishes), she’s figured it out. All the pet names, the casual touches and the confident demands? Bucky’s trying to dominate her. She thinks about calling him out on it, but promptly forgets to do that when they go into the living room to watch a movie and Bucky firmly suggests that she make herself comfortable on the floor instead of the couch. At his and Steve’s feet.

Forget about damp panties, she just hopes it doesn’t start to show through her leggings.

Asexual dynamic her ass.

Mary had only held onto the illusion that the guys were gay gay for about two whole days, before it became very apparent that they actually like women, too. Steve’s comments alone about Daenerys while watching Game of Thrones are enough to broadcast that he swings both ways.

So that takes it from regrettable to just plain insulting when, as time goes by, Bucky doesn’t initiate anything sexual with her. He keeps doing his whole Dom thing, aided and abetted by Steve, and almost always in ways that take Mary off guard. He’s never mean, never does any of the intimidating things she’d imagined a dom would do to a submissive. 

And Mary won’t admit it, but she’s starting to look forward to when Bucky gets home from work at the end of the day. She spends more time than she’ll ever admit planning out something new to make for dessert, all the while anticipating the beginning of Bucky’s early evening commands and how they elicit those first tendrils of effervescent, pink fizz giddiness. 

It’s the later commands—the ones that come after dinner and during tv time, that tend to bring on the warm, sunken bathwater feelings. Marys pretty sure that Steve is a bit of a voyeur, because he seems fascinated by it all, watching every night as Bucky bosses her around, sometimes even joining in his own small ways, by petting her hair or telling her she’s sweet, or something like that.

Every evening, they play this strange game. And every evening Bucky and Steve each give her a kiss on the cheek and send her dazed little self off to bed, the two of them retiring to their own room. In the beginning, being left alone to go to bed is nice. She ignores the arousal between her legs in favor of floating in her syrupy sea of sweet feelings. Going to bed in subspace gives her the most solid sleep she’s ever had in her life. But after another week of it, and then another, the arousal starts to linger a little more at bedtime. She starts to fantasize about what it would be like to keep things going, to take Steve’s hand at the end of the night and let him guide her into his and Bucky’s bedroom, rather than her own; be held between their two big bodies while they whisper more sweet things to her and touch her in new places …

Maybe Steve and Bucky really do just want this to be platonic, she thinks, as another week of the same goes by and her dreams are getting dirtier by the minute. She’d surreptitiously stuffed her vibrator into a bag when they’d gone back to her apartment to retrieve her belongings, but she’s been too afraid to use it when Steve and Bucky are right across the hallway in their room, mortified to think that they might hear the buzzing and know what she’s doing.

Best not to add fuel to the fire, she thinks, when she ignores how increasingly horny she’s becoming and forces herself to lie still and count sheep and not fantasize about the two insanely hot, not-gay-gay men in the next room. They’re still a happily married couple, she tells herself. They’ve got no interest in her as of yet, and she’ll just be making herself into a homewrecker if she pushes for more.

… Or maybe they’re just not attracted to her that way, she eventually starts to think. Steve and Bucky are both in amazing shape, and they’re very good looking. They probably see her as like … maybe a solid five—with makeup and a blowout. 

She gets a little down in the dumps about it, realizing that all the heavy drinking and crap diet of this past year and a half has taken its toll on her, and she’s just not physically their type. She convinces Bucky to start adding salmon to the grocery list, she researches the pros and cons of lip filler, and starts whitening her teeth with one of those nasty little gel kits.

She stands in front of her bathroom mirror each night and scrutinizes her naked body, dragging her nails absentmindedly against the skin of her lower stomach and cataloging everything that’s not as good as it could be. She considers the scars on her hip that have no new slices added to the roster, wonders if Bucky ever wound up telling Steve about how … how awful they are …

“Night, Mary!” Steve chirps from across the hall, making her inhale and flinch in surprise.

“N-night!” she calls back through the wall, feeling the pleasant effects of that night’s drop fading away faster than she’d like.

Maybe she should just be happy that she’s getting at least this much attention from them, that things have improved a little and she at least isn’t drinking herself into a stupor each night anymore. That’s a positive, even if she is still left pining after them like a fool every night. Steve and Bucky are okay guys, but they probably just don’t want anything more than this from her. They’re helping her because she shares this mental illness with Bucky, and that’s super nice of them, but it doesn’t mean they have to be attracted to her, too. Mary’s not entitled to anything.

She joins a 24 hour gym and takes to binge exercising in the middle of the night to push away the uncertainty.

Series Masterlist

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[avengerscompound]

The Tower - Merchandise

The Tower - Merchandise

Series Masterlist

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1394

Warnings:  none

Synopsis:  The kids have a lot of Avengers merchandise but there is one member of the family that's not represented.

Author’s Note: Requested by @thealfxmountains on Tumblr. You can send in your requests too.

Merchandise

Takes place between Unexpected and The Queen of Asgard.

Tony was the first one to buy any Avengers merchandise for the children.  He was always a fan of having Iron Man things around.  Framed Iron Man posters decorated both his lab and our home.  The day I’d found little Avengers onesies while out shopping with him had definitely stoked the fire when it came to dressing them in branding - specifically Iron Man branding.

So before the babies were even born, they had several Iron Man outfits, mobiles, and a couple of stuffed toys.

To balance it out, the others would all buy things for them too.  Some were keener on the concept than others but there was always Avengers merchandise around.  It was quite fun pointing out who each person was to the kids.  Thor loved that there were toys of him he could give the kids.  It made him feel less anxious about leaving and having them forget him.  There was always a plush toy of him they could cuddle in bed when they missed him.  Sam was quite into them too, and liked to get Falcon toys over clothing.  Clint loved Hawkeye merchandise that didn’t just feature his face, so the babies ended up with so many t-shirts with purple targets and chevrons on them.  Natasha had no strong feelings either way except that there should be products featuring everyone, so she’d make sure to try and balance it out by buying things representing all of the family.  Everyone else was different levels of neutral to uncomfortable with it, but even Bruce who found it embarrassing that there were even Bruce Banner toys in the first place, didn’t voice their concerns around the kids.

By the time Riley and Pietro were four they had a good collection of Avengers merchandise, mostly clothing, but also plush toys, Lego, and a full set of action figures that included both Hulk and Bruce.

The action figures became a firm favorite at that age.  The great thing about having Avengers as parents is the toys depicting them are equally at home playing fighting games as they were in the doll house playing family.

It was a delight seeing them play with them, whether it be taking them out to their slide and dropping them off the top or tucking them into bed in their doll house.  So many children play family with their toys.  Our kids got to play them with toys of their actual family.

Tony and I were playing with the kids when one very glaring issue was pointed out.

“Oh, Cap, give me so many kissies,” Tony said in a slightly high-pitched voice.  He pressed the heads of the Captain America toy and the Iron Man toy together and made kissing sounds.

“No, Daddy!” the twins yelled, and Riley pushed her hands between the two toys.  “No kissies,” she said.

Tony laughed. “What?!” he said, pretending to be surprised by the children’s reaction to making the toys kiss.  “But I love kissies.”  He leaned over and pepper wet kisses to my neck and cheek, making me squeal in surprise.  “See.  Kissy, kiss.”

“Too many kisses!” Riley squealed and pushed us apart again.

I lost it laughing and picked up Riley, kissing her face.  “Mommy!” she squealed.

“Daddy,” Pietro asked, in a soft little voice.

“Yeah, buddy?” Tony asked, picking him up and putting him into his lap.

“How come dares no mommy doll?” he asked.  “Dares all… the daddies.  Daddy Tony, daddy Bwuce, daddy Steeb, Daddy For, daddy…”

“Oh yeah, all of them.  And Mama, and Daj,” Tony agreed.

“Yeah!” Pietro said.  “But no Mommy!”

Tony clicked his tongue.  “That is an oversight,” he agreed.

“You could pretend that Barbie is mommy,” I suggested.

“No, Mommy!” Pietro laughed.  “You are Ewwy, not Barbie.”

Riley climbed off my lap and went to get one of the barbies.  She was completely naked and her hair was all over the place. “Barbie is too big.  See?” she said, holding her up beside the Iron Man figure.  When held side-by-side the Iron Man’s head was only at Barbie’s boobs.

“He’s not mad about that,” Tony joked.

I laughed and elbowed him.  “Behave yourself,” I scolded.  I reached over and ruffled Pietro’s hair.  “I’m not an Avenger, Piet,” I said.  “The others have toys because they’re all Avengers.”

“Only ‘vengers have toys?” he asked.

“That’s right,” I said. “Just the Avengers.”

“So Barbie is a ‘venger?” he asked.

Tony burst out laughing.  “She should be.”

“No,” I said to Pietro.  “There are toys of other things, but people want toys of the Avengers.  They don’t want toys of your mommy.”

“I want a toy of my mommy,” Pietro said, sticking his bottom lip out.

“Oh, no, Piet,” I said, giggling.  I squished his cheeks, leaned in, and kissed over his face.

Tony clicked his tongue, his foot tapping against his calf.  “You know what, Piet?  I’ll look into it.  Okay, kiddo?”

Pietro hugged him.  “Fank you, Daddy,” he said.

I all but forgot about that conversation not long after it happened.  The kids sometimes had funny ideas but they were little and didn’t usually hold onto them for long.  They certainly didn’t mention getting a mommy doll again.

A few months later, everyone was coming in for dinner when Tony came up with a package.  “Hey kiddos,” he came.  “Did your daddy Tony come through for you, or what?”

The twins looked up at him in unison. “Pwesent?”

“You spoiling them again, Tony?” Sam asked.

“We noticed a huge discrepancy a few months back while playing with the toys,” Tony said.  “I just made sure to rectify it.”

“Tony!  You didn’t!” I gasped.

He grinned at me.  “Oh, I sure did.”   He handed me the box with a flourish.  He’d already opened it so I pulled back the flaps and pulled out a square foam block.  Nestled inside was a little action figure, made in the same style as all the Avengers ones the kids owned.  The same size. The same points of articulation.  The same molded hair.  But this one had my wavy brunette hair and blue eyes, and it was wearing a Black Sabbath T-shirt and a skirt with a galaxy print.

My heart fluttered.  “Oh my god, Tony.  She’s wearing what I was wearing when I met you,” I said.  I honestly couldn’t believe he even remembered that.  It had only stuck in my head because of how woefully undressed I’d been for the Michelin Star restaurant he’d taken me to.

“Oh really?  I wonder how that happened?” he asked.  “I asked for an Iron Man T-shirt and red and gold booty shorts.”

I got up and sat in his lap, wrapping my arms around him and nuzzling his jaw.  “This is honestly one of the most romantic things you’ve ever done, and it is going to come back to you tenfold,” I whispered.

He patted my hip.  “Well, I do like the sound of that.”  He kissed my cheek and I hugged him a little tighter.  “But it’s not for you, dear.  That belongs to Riley and Pietro.”

I laughed and got off him, going over to the twins in their high chairs.

“What is it?” Steve asked as I showed the kids.

“The kids were wondering why there were toys of all their parents except for Elly.  So I commissioned Hasbro to make one of her,” Tony explained.

“Holy shit,” Sam said.  “That’s wild.  Nice work, Tony.”

Riley walked the toy across her tray to Pietro.  “Pied! Inside voices!” she said, pretending to make the toy talk.

Pietro started giggling. “Kay, mommy,” he whispered.

“Wow, she’s just like you,” Clint joked.  “What else does mommy say, Riley?”

“Ummm… she say,” she thought for a moment then held the doll out and rocked it back and forth.  “Wets go, beans.  Den we say, Mommy, we not beans - we’re kids!”

We all laughed.  “That is what happens,” Clint said.

“Can I see, Riley?” Wanda asked.

Riley held it up for the doll to show Wanda.  Wanda leaned in and took a close look.  “Wow, they did a good job.  That’s definitely you, Elly.” 

“Well, what do you think, kids?  Do you like her?” Tony asked.

Riley hugged the toy to her body.  “I wuv mommy!” she shouted.

Everyone laughed and Steve put his arm around my shoulders.  “We all love mommy too,” he said.

~ END ~

[dark-frosted-heart]

Roger Barel Main Route - Chapter 10

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’m doing this for archiving purposes and you can probably find a better translation out there.

~~ Continuing flashback ~~

Roger: T-that person…and I…

“We’re not friends. That person and I are complete strangers.”

Alec: …Thank you. —"That’s enough.“

—That promise changed our destiny.

~~ End flashback ~~

Kate: …What happened to Alec after that?

Roger: The moment he released the curse, the police shot him dead. Died instantly by a bullet to the heart.

Kate: …Died instantly.

Roger: I stared at the blood that splattered everywhere, the sound of the gunshot ringing in my head. The sound was so loud to my ears that I passed out on the spot.

Kate: …Sound? Could it be that…

Staring right at me, Roger nodded silently.

Roger: I think curses are something you’re born with, not something you acquire. But…there’s always an incident that triggers a Cursed One’s power. Maybe it’s an incident that only happens when you’re born cursed. That your power appears.

Kate: …An incident that happens because you’re born cursed.

People call that “destiny” or “fate”.

Roger: You could say “a tragic turning point”. My “tragic turning point” came when I betrayed a cherished friend, and my cursed ability appeared from that.

~~ Flashback ~~

I passed out in the conservatory and then woke up in a bed at my old man’s clinic.

My old man told me that I was a Cursed One and that Alec died.

Roger’s father: I didn’t expect you to meet Alec…

Roger: Dad…Why did the police have to kill Alec?

Roger’s father: He was using connections from the Royal Hospital to sell organs to different countries. I had never thought that…he’d do something so barbaric.

Roger: You believe that?! Alec would never!

Roger’s father: Enough. That’s…enough, Roger. Forget about Alec and everything you saw.

~~ End flashback ~~

Roger: I found out later. Alec was being used for crimes by a doctor at the Royal Hospital.

Kate: So he was falsely accused and killed for it…?

Roger: Yeah. Sounds like the tragic fate of a “Cursed One”.

He smiled, crisp like a freshly dried bed sheet, before continuing.

However, the look on his face said he never got over it, and it made my chest ache.

Roger: When I finally got used to my curse, I went back to the conservatory. However, all the books and research on Cursed Ones disappeared, possibly confiscated by the police. Only the plants there breathed quietly.

Kate: Nothing from Alec…?

Roger: Only one. A letter he left under a flowerpot.

Apparently the flowerpot was something Roger and Alec looked after together.

To my little friend Roger.

The letter that began with the salutation was written on a single sheet of paper.

In it, he wrote that should anything happen to him, he wanted Roger to forget about him and his research on Cursed Ones.

Roger: …You’re aware that Cursed Ones are doomed to meet a “tragic end”, right?

Kate: Yes…

I forced out my trembling voice as I nodded.

Roger: I’m sure Alec knew, which was why he lived every day imagining the worst that could happen. At the time, I felt a strong resentment toward the absurd destiny of “Cursed Ones”. It wasn’t his fault and the cause was unknown. Yet, there was no way to escape the tragic end… It was worse than any terrible disease.

(Worse than any disease or abomination…That’s what “curses” were)

Roger: And so that’s when I decided how I wanted to live my life.

Kate: What you’re trying to do is…

When I looked at him in question, Roger took a deep breath.

And he replied with an unwavering voice.

Roger: I wanna make curses disappear from this world. No…I definitely will with my own hands before my life ends.

Kate: …

Roger: To find out how, I went to Crown, where Cursed Ones assembled.

(This is the reason why Roger joined Crown)

Roger: And then I met new Cursed Ones through Vogel. I’m gonna get their data as soon as possible.

If you’re with Crown, you could collect data on Cursed Ones.

Not only that, being in Her Majesty’s territory made it easier to get valuable materials and medicine.

(Roger’s decision was rational, that’s all I could say)

(But, Roger must have his own conflict too…)

A future where he took over his father’s clinic, a life where he didn’t have to kill people that sinned.

Roger abandoned all that and was now with Crown.

Kate: Is Crown aware that you’re researching how to get rid of curses…?

Roger: I’ve never told them, but I’m sure some of them have an idea. It’s cruel to give strange expectations, but it’s not something I wanna hide.

Kate: …Cruel to give expectations?

Roger: Take Liam for example. That guy’s the son of a well-known confectioner who burned his house and everyone in it down…because of his curse.

Kate: …Liam did?

Roger: When Victor found him, he was on the roof of an asylum…I don’t need to tell you the rest.

My chest ached as I pictured Liam’s kind smile.

Roger: If some drug to remove curses existed, he’d take it. But there are others who wouldn’t. With Will, he awoke his ability when he was able to talk.

Kate: So young? Then…

Roger: Yeah. People like WIll are one with their curse. Plus, he already has it under complete control.

Kate: …I see. The way everyone deals with and feels about their curse is different.

Roger nodded once and then stretched his arms out wide as if tucking the curse back into his heart.

Roger: Do you wanna know an interesting story like this, Kate? Currently, there’s rumors going around that Britain’s doing secret flight experiments.

Kate: By flying, do you mean experimenting with people flying in the sky?

Roger: Yeah, that’s right.

I tried to picture it.

But the idea of humans flying in the sky like birds sounded like a dream.

Roger: If the experiment succeeds, the world will be a lot more convenient. Like flying across the ocean and transporting stuff.

Revolutionary +4 +4

I can’t imagine it

It’s a little scary…

That’s pretty revolutionary!

Roger: Yeah,  I guess. But even if it’s convenient, don’t you think it’s also dangerous? It could be used as a weapon in war.

Kate: …Ah.

Roger: New things bring huge changes, good and bad. They can either be poison or medicine.

A smile slowly formed in Roger’s eyes as he stared at me.

Roger: Now here’s a question for my cute pet dog. Would it be good or evil to make curses disappear from this world? You don’t have to answer me now. When it comes to you, let me know.

Kate: …Okay.

I recorded Roger’s question in my heart and turned to him with a smile.

Kate: Also, thank you for the explanation.

Roger: You’re welcome, lil’ lady. …Ah, we’re almost back to London.

The twilight sky deepened, casting a soft glow on Roger’s profile.

His past definitely wasn’t a bright one.

And yet, I listened to him speak naturally, like water flowing down a river, because accepted his past and spoke plainly.

(He’s able to do that because…)

Roger: …What’s up?

Kate: Ah, it’s nothing. Just… I was thinking…what a strong person you are.

(Unwavering willpower. Tough, flexible, unbreaking…)

Roger: What’s with that all of a sudden? Well, I guess I am stronger than you since you’re still learning to be strong.

(Why does that…make me a bit sad?)

Roger: Now then, here’s a request from the strong, tough, nice guy Roger. I’ve told you everything about my past. How are you going to pay me back for the information?

Kate: Wha?! You never said anything about that…

Roger: Always be careful of things too good to be true. Good thing you’re a well-behaved one.

(D-damn it…!)

I unconsciously clenched my fists and Roger came closer with that awful smile of his.

Roger: What should I get? Ah, that’s it. How ‘bout we have a study session on this thing you call romantic love.

Kate: Study session…on romantic love?

Roger: I still don’t believe that romantic love exists. If it stays like that, it’ll affect your growth map. …That’s not good, is it?

His provocation ignited my competitive spirit.

Kate: Let’s study love then! I’ll teach you what it is.

Roger: And how will you teach me?

Kate: Let’s go on a date!

Next

[1heartfanfics]

Can I get some fluffy Steve/Bucky? Either one sick is fine (or both?). Maybe a post mission adrenaline drop masking an on coming stomach bug. Cuddles and belly rubs are definitely a plus, especially with the caretaker being overprotective. Have a happy and safe new year!

TW: depictions of vomit

Steve had come to learn that everyone handles the post-mission adrenaline differently. Peter for example, had been talking his ear off since they got on the jet, practically bouncing with excitement. Clint usually passed out immediately and slept the whole way back to the compound. Tony and Nat usually had a drink or two to unwind, sometimes chatting amongst themselves or quietly in their own worlds. His own response was usually to check in with everyone, play the role of the leader, the protector.

Bucky didn't always handle it so well. Steve had seen him breakdown multiple times after getting home, unfamiliar with the way his mind and body felt as the adrenaline faded. Ever since getting on the jet, Steve had been watching Bucky, unsure of how he'd react. This was his first mission as a whole group since joining the avengers. He'd only done solo missions or missions with just Steve and Nat until now.

Even as Peter rambled on excitedly beside him, Steve was analyzing Bucky's facial expression. Bucky was sitting across from him, staring blankly ahead with one hand gripping the armrest of his seat hard enough for his knuckles to turn white. Steve would've preferred for Bucky to sit next to him, but the kid had taken the seat before he could, and Steve didn't want to hurt his feelings.

Steve tried to catch Bucky's eyes, but he seemed lost in his head, not really looking at anything. He was starting to get worried though, Bucky's face had gone a shade of ashen gray in the last few minutes. He was looking more and more unwell as the minutes passed.

A moment later though, Bucky did look at Steve, his eyes pleading. Something was wrong, he needed help. And Steve needed a distraction, for the kid. He turned in his seat, craning his neck to look for Tony. Tony was sitting with Nat, as he'd predicted, toward the back of the plane.

"Hey Parker, I think Stark's trying to get your attention. Why don't you go back there with him and Nat?" Steve said, cutting off Peter's rambling.

"Oh. Right, of course! Thank you Mr. Rogers!" Peter said, jumping up and heading toward Tony. Steve turned around, clearing his throat to get Tony's attention. He quickly took in Peter walking toward him and Steve's pointed look. Steve nodded his head in Bucky's direction, causing Tony to flick his eyes over to the other man, then back to Steve with a nod. Understood.

Steve turned his attention back to Bucky, who was now practically paper white.

"I don't feel good," Bucky blurted out, metal hand also gripping the armrest now.

"Hey, it's alright," Steve quickly moved to sit in the seat to Bucky's right, "What's going on Buck?" he asked.

"S'my stomach," Bucky mumbled, "feeling nauseous." That certainly explained his complexion.

"Okay, hey it's okay" Steve said calmly, "You're coming down off the adrenaline, which can definitely turn your stomach. Just try to take some deep breaths," he continued. Bucky's breathing was started to get erratic, coming in short gasps. He was panicking.

"Stevie-" Bucky gasped, releasing the arm rest with the hand closest to Steve to reach for him, fumbling for something to hold onto.

"I'm right here Buck, I've got you," Steve said, grabbing Bucky's hand in his own. "Just breathe," he instructed, taking some slow measured breaths himself to demonstrate.

"H-how long?" Bucky asked shakily.

"I don't know," Steve admitted, he hadn't been paying attention to how long they'd been in the air as he'd been so worried about Bucky.

"Don't think I can make it," Bucky shook his head, "M'gonna puke soon," he said, voice trembling. His other arm had moved to wrap around his middle, clutching at his stomach.

"That's okay. If you need to be sick then you need to be sick," Steve shrugged, rubbing his other hand up and down Bucky's arm. "You might feel better after," he added.

Bucky didn't say anything, his lips pressed together in a thin line. He closed his eyes, leaning back against the seat's head rest. He was definitely going to be sick soon.

Steve realized that everyone else must have noticed the situation by now. He looked out to find everyone watching them, worry written on their faces, silently asking 'is he okay?'. Steve shook his head.

Tony nodded in response, ushering everyone toward the back of the plane with hushed whispers. Steve mouthed a silent 'thank you' then turned his attention back to Bucky, who was now looking a shade greener than a minute ago.

"Come on Buck, let's move," Steve said, standing up. Bucky's eyes opened to look at him, full of fear. Steve grabbed him by both elbows, pulling him to his feet and walking backwards to lead him into the planes bathroom.

He helped Bucky kneel down in front of the toilet, moving to sit behind him. Steve unbuckled the straps of Bucky's uniform, helping him pull it over his head to leave him in just a t-shirt and his uniform pants. He tossed the uniform onto the floor beside them, then pulled the black rubber band from Bucky's wrist and used it to tie up his hair so it would stay out of his face.

"Easy darling," Steve said softly. He brought a hand up to rest between Bucky's shoulder blades, then started to rub gently up and down his back. Bucky leaned over the toilet, bracing himself with his good arm, breathing hard.

"Fuck, my stomach," Bucky groaned, curling in on himself.

Steve scooted closer, moving to wrap an arm around Bucky's waist so he could rest a hand on his stomach. He waited for a moment to be sure Bucky wouldn't protest, before he slid his hand up under Bucky's shirt, rubbing gently.

Bucky groaned again, before lurching forward with a dry heave. He positioned himself over the toilet, belching wetly, before heaving again. This time bringing up a wave of vomit. Steve held him as he continued to cough and gag, but it was clear that he was empty, nothing left to bring up.

Steve gently pulled Bucky away from the toilet to lean back against him, feeling his stomach still contracting against his hand with empty gags.

"Breath Buck, you're all done," Steve said quietly, starting to rub careful circles over Bucky's stomach to help calm it.

After a few minutes, Bucky managed to get his stomach under control and calm his breathing. Now that he was pressed against Steve's chest, he could feel the warmth radiating off of Bucky's body, which was practically limp against him from exhaustion.

"Think you're sick Buck, you've got a fever," Steve said, reaching around to press a hand to Bucky's forehead, confirming what he already suspected. This was more than just an adrenaline crash.

Bucky just groaned in response. No wonder he'd felt so sluggish during the fight today. He'd been coming down with a stomach bug.

"Think you're up for moving?" Steve asked after a few moments.

Bucky was exhausted, but he also wanted to get up off the bathroom floor. As much as he didn't want to face the rest of the team that would no doubt be watching them when they came out, he also desperately wanted to lay down.

"Okay, let's get you up off the floor and laying down," Steve said, as if reading his mind. He looped his arms under Bucky's, hauling him to his feet. Bucky slumped against Steve, leaning into his shoulder at Steve led them back out to their seats. He kept his eyes closed, face flushing with embarrassment as he felt the eyes of the team on him.

"It's okay, they're just worried," Steve whispered, reading his thoughts again. Steve pushed the armrests up on the seats, then helped Bucky to lay down across them.

"You need anything?" Steve asked, crouching in front of Bucky to be at his eye level. Bucky shook his head slightly, eyes still closed.

"Alright. Try to get rest then okay? I'll wake you up when we land," Steve said.

Bucky didn't answer, focused on willing his body into sleep before he needed to throw up again. He hoped he could make it until they were back in the safety of his and Steve's suite at the tower.