#captain america oneshots

[writtenfangirl]

Tomorrow

Steve Rogers Fic

I wrote this fic because Chris Evans was declared People's Magazine World's Sexiest Man and it's been a year. I can't believe I only got around to finishing it now.

Y/N’s home could only really be called a villains lair.

It’s high cavernous walls; the gothic spires that towered over the lot; the human-sized gargoyles that lined the dark roof; and the dark exterior cut an imposing figure against the backdrop of the grey sky meeting the even greyer sea. It was perched high above a cliff, carved into the very stone of the mountain.

The frigid salty wind that bellowed from the sea had rain slapping against Steve’s suit, darkening it’s blue leather. He hated the miserable weather, the dark grey sky and the pelting rain reminded Steve of memories of the war that he would rather sooner forget. 

But right now, he couldn’t care less.

His feet slapped against the gravel, taking him up to the foyer of Y/N’s home. The large oak doors of her home were slammed shut and Steve found his hands rapping against the wood. He could almost imagine the sound echoing around the cavernous house, up towards Y/N’s room.

Steve knew Y/N didn’t get many visitors and so his presence was an anomaly to her.

She had a sordid reputation after all, one that had her painted as an enemy of the Avengers.

But right now, Steve didn’t care about that.

In fact, all Steve could care about right now was Y/N.

“Y/N, open up!” He banged against the solid doors once again, his body a live wire of buzzing energy and adrenaline begging to be released.

He was met with silence.

The rain was beginning to pelt harder against his body, the wind howling in the distance.  The storm was a big one, the biggest of the year if the news was right. Worry and panic seized Steve the moment he heard, his heart thrumming loudly in his throat. Y/N didn’t live in the friendliest of environments and though he knew she would loathe Steve for caring about her, he couldn’t help it.

“Y/N!”

Still no response.

He could break down the door. She’d hate him for sure but she’d always hated him. At least this way, he knew she was okay.

“Y/N, I swear—“

“Rogers?”

Her voice had been swallowed by the wind and if it wasn’t for his exceptional hearing, Steve wouldn’t have heard her lovely voice.

The relief that seized him nearly had his knees buckling to the ground. He spun, meeting Y/N’s E/C eyes, wide with surprised and confusion. Despite the hard sleets of rain that continued to rain down, she was perfectly dry, not a strand of hair out of place. Her face was perfectly made up, her lips painted a beautiful red, rouge streaking her cheeks. She looked wonderful and alive.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Y/N didn’t sound as furious as she usually did, simply confused. As if seeing Steve standing in her front door had stunned her to silence.

Steve didn’t care. He reached for her, relieved to find her hard and solid beneath her hands and not some ghostly apparition.

“There’s a storm,” Steve panted, eyes locking to Y/N’s own E/C ones, “biggest of the year. I-I thought… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Her eyes fluttered in surprise. “You… you wanted to see if I was okay?”

Steve nodded, unabashed. He was glad to see that she was fine and there was no hiding the relief that had him straightening.

He knew he wasn’t suppose to care about her. She was the villain and he was a hero. He was suppose to hate her, capture her right now for whatever nefarious scheme she was no doubt plotting to take down the Avengers.

But he didn’t care about that right now.

He didn’t care about their roles and he certainly didn’t care about what his teammates would say or what other people would say. Right now, all he cared about was her.

Y/N seemed to hesitate before she pushed past him and opened her heavy front door as easily as if it was made of plastic.

A roaring fire was raging in the hearth of her living room, the smell of cookies baking in the oven like an invitation to Steve, begging him to enter through the threshold. 

“Why don’t you come in?” Y/N said softly, waiting by the opened door. “Maybe wait for the storm to settle before you leave?”

Steve looked down at his sodden clothes, at the fat drops of water that dripped to the floor. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I might ruin your furniture.”

Y/N stretched out her hand towards him, her fingers hovering above his face. A strange warm sensation enveloped Steve, like a blanket had suddenly been wrapped around his shoulders. Steve looked down, his clothes suddenly dried. His hair, that was once plastered on his forehead, was now dry and fluffy and not a drop of water splashed on his shoes. In fact, even the puddle that had steadily gathered around his feet had been wiped cleaned, lightening the once dark wood. Magic was strange but there was no denying its benefits.

“Come on in.” Y/N stepped aside, her face impassive.

Despite racing here upon learning of the raging storm, Steve hesitated now. He’d never been inside of Y/N’s home and though their relationship was more or less antagonistic, it felt strange to have her invite him to her sanctuary. He felt like an intruder, rifling through Y/N’s innermost secrets in the hope of gleaning information to use against her in their next confrontation.

Thunder rumbled loudly above their heads followed by a flash of lightning that briefly illuminated Y/N’s features. She was peering at him through her lashes, her lips pursed as if she herself was unsure she should let Steve in. He wondered if she’d turn him away now.

Instead, she further leaned into the door, opening the entrance even wider. “I don’t bite. Well, I don’t bite hard. So come on in before I magic you into a deep sleep and you can have Stark kiss you awake.”

The smell of cookies continued to waft through the opened door and that was enough to convince Steve to get in.

He felt warm almost immediately, the chill that had previously gripped him suddenly chased away by the magic in the atmosphere. The smell of melted butter further saturated his nose, the warm fire raging in the living room permanently removing the chill of the outside world.

“Shoes off,” Y/N said as she removed her own shoes, placing it neatly on the shoe rack by the door.

Steve followed suit, desperately trying to remove the feeling of awkwardness that seized him.

Y/N walked into her home, not bothering to wait for Steve to follow her.

Despite the imposing exterior of Y/N’s home, the interior told a different story. It was warm and inviting, the walls painted a rich green and covered with beautiful paintings. Red velvet furniture was scattered all about the space, the most notable being the large floor-to-ceiling bookshelves that covered the right side of the room. It was filled with books and different sculptures decorated the empty spaces. There was even a medieval suit of armor between the shelves. There was a staircase to the left, leading to what Steve could only assume was the bedrooms. A lush carpet was laid before him, covering the whole expanse of the room.

Steve followed Y/N, who’d walked through the a door next to the fireplace.

The smell of baking cookies intensified, causing Steve’s mouth to water. He’d always  had a bit of a sweet tooth and even now, in the presence of his enemy, he couldn’t deny the pang of cravings.

Y/N led them to a modern kitchen, one that was vastly different from the living room they’d just left. There was a kitchen island in middle with white leather seats lining the side and even a breakfast nook big enough for eight people towards the right. There was a TV on the farthest wall of the nook, turned off and quiet. The panels of the countertops were a gleaming marble, the walls painted a pretty light blue. There were two refrigerators, wide enough to fit at least two people inside and no doubt fully stocked with cooking ingredients and snacks. One of the counters was occupied by an espresso machine, as fully stocked as a busy cafe with equipment Steve didn’t know the name of scattered around the side. The stove was set on the other side, with eight burners set against shiny metal. There were two ovens below it, one of it lit and where no doubt the smell of baking cookies came from. There was a bookshelf to the side below the TV, filled with different cookbooks and some in languages Steve couldn’t understand. While the living room was warm and slightly dark, the kitchen was all light, the walls covered in windows that let in plenty of light even with the dark grey sky.

“I’m sorry for the mess. I wasn’t expecting guests,” Y/N said, the words coming out almost stiffly. An apron magically appeared around her waist and she got around to continuing whatever it was she was doing before Steve got here.

In truth, Steve wasn’t sure where the mess was. The kitchen was clean and pristine without even a speck of dust floating in the air. He wasn’t sure what to say so he stayed silent, his eyes roving around the space.

“Anything you prefer to drink?” Y/N said just as the oven dinged. She pulled open the door of the oven and with the use of her powers, telekinetically moved the hot tray of cookies towards the kitchen isle. “I make a mean cup of coffee. Or if you want some chocolate or tea, I can make those for you too.”

“Coffee sounds great,” Steve said with a slight smile, pushing aside the awkwardness. It was strange, he thought, that the only pieces of conversation Steve ever had with Y/N was when he’d captured her or when she was monologuing her villainous plans or when she was behind bars and was too tired to escape, choosing instead to make idle conversation with Steve.

“You can take a seat, you know,” Y/N gestured at one of the stool in the kitchen island and Steve watched in wonder as what seemed like invisible hands pulled the stool, giving him space to take a seat.

Steve didn’t even hesitate. He took a seat on the stool and silently watched as Y/N used her powers to move the cookies to a cooling rack. An almost white glow seemed to envelop the cookies as they slowly moved from one tray to the next. She moved assuredly, her eyes trained in concentration in the task before her.  “How do you like your coffee, Rogers?”

Steve paused, a little surprised by the question but he wasn’t really sure why. She’d already offered to make it for him. Why should he be surprised that she would make it to his liking? “To be honest, I’m not sure.”

At that, she stopped. Her eyes snapped to his face, her brows furrowing in confusion. “You don’t know what kind of coffee you like?”

“Well back then our only option was black. No cream or sugar because of the war. There’s all these options now and I’ve never really got around to exploring them before.”

With the way Y/N stared at him, it was a miracle a hole hadn’t burned through his forehead. 

“Why don’t I make you my go to coffee order so you can give it a try? You aren’t allergic to anything, right?”

“I’ll have whatever you’ll have. I was allergic to whole bunch of things before the serum but I’m not anymore.” 

Y/N simply nodded silently before walking towards the espresso machine and grabbing ingredients from one of the massive fridges. Cartons of milks and bottles of syrups flying out of the fridge in a neat conga line, swaying this way and that.

“I’m a little surprised you didn’t know that I wasn’t allergic to anything,” Steve said, his words trailing off. Y/N was smart, a certifiable genius who could wield magic more effectively than Steven Strange. She wasn’t nearly as powerful as Wanda but there was no denying that she’d give the Scarlet Witch a run for her money if the situation called for it. Steve had expected that Y/N would learn everything there was to know about the Avengers, especially since they were her enemy. 

“I did know you weren’t currently allergic to anything,” Y/N said, her words almost indecipherable over the loud din of the brewing espresso. “It would have been rude of me not to ask so I did.”

Oh. 

Well, Y/N was nothing if not impeccably well mannered. 

She turned to him then, her gaze pure unbendable steel as her eyes locked to his. “Steve, what are you really doing here? I haven’t done anything remotely villainous for the past few months.”

“I told you, the storm.” Even his words sounded feeble in his ears. 

“You expect me to believe that you came all this way to, what, protect me from the hurricane? My house is reinforced by magic, Rogers. Nothing can harm me while I’m in here. Not rain, snow, tsunamis, earthquakes or hellfire. And I know you know that. And if what your saying is true and you wanted to warn me about the storm, I’m suppose to suddenly believe that you, what, care about me? So why are you really here?”

The urge to tell her that he really did care about her fought its way out of his throat, scratching and biting and screaming as he struggled to push it back to whatever box it crawled out of. Feeling anything but antagonism for Y/N was a recipe for disaster, one that had the word DOOM spelled out all over it. 

The truth is, they were two very different people. Or, at least, Steve desperately hoped that they were different. 

He was a good person. He didn’t need a super soldier serum to tell him that he was a good person. 

But calling Y/N a villain wouldn’t have been fair to her. 

She was so much more. 

When it came to Y/N, the lines were always blurred. Even when she did terrible things like murder people, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad for any of the people she’d killed because they themselves were monsters. And when she did good, it was far better than any goodness Steve had done in his life. Y/N had been known to heal children sick with cancer, permanently purging their diseases from their bodies. She’d helped protect rape victims and domestic abuse survivors by giving them protective charms. 

But because of her methods, because she’d never been afraid to kill and hurt in order to achieve her goals, she’d been labeled a villain. 

Her personality changes were enough to give Steve whiplash. 

Still, Steve couldn’t deny the obvious attraction between them.

The first time the Avengers had captured her, she had been in a gleeful mood. Almost manic. She’d succeeded in assassinating a high profile senator who was running for the presidency and while his profile was clean cut on the outside, his assassination broke the news that he wasn’t as good as he claimed to be. He’d profited off of a sex-trafficking ring, selling girls as young as 4 to shady buyers looking for slaves. There’d been signs of torture and mutilation on his body and with the way his blood drenched Y/N from head to toe, it was clear she’d felt no remorse for what she’d done.

Steve almost didn’t want to arrest Y/N then and in truth, a part of him had been relieved when she’d escaped her cell. The whole team had silently agreed to not answer any of their phones when she’d initially escaped. Even Nick Fury had agreed to put his phone on silent.

After a week, Y/N was sighted in Madripoor freeing the captured women. The lives of a thousand women in exchange for one horrible, greedy man didn’t seem like a hard exchange in Steve’s eyes. When the Avengers finally arrived on the scene after several pitstops involving coffee, donuts and ice cream, Y/N went with them willingly only after she confirmed that the women would be fine, giving each of them a protective charm that helped them sleep better at night despite the traumas they’d endured.

After that, she’d stretched out her arms, ready for the power-dampening handcuffs that Tony had designed specifically for her. She’d done with an almost gleeful smile on her face, humming an unfamiliar song. Despite the soot, the blood and bruises that marred her pretty face, she was the image of pure contentment.

“Don’t even think of escaping, Y/L/N,” Tony had said as she clasped the manacles around her wrist, the technology whirring to life with a little beep. “With these little guys around your wrist, you can’t use a single iota of your powers.”

She’d smirked at Tony then. “Very bold of you to assume I need magic to escape.”

Steve and Natasha had taken it upon themselves to escort her to her prison cell with the rest of the team staying behind to ensure that all the freed women would be okay. 

“You know, I’m almost rooting for you,” Natasha said with a wry smile.

“Almost?” Y/N asked incredulously. 

“Scratch that. I am rooting for you.”

Y/N smirked. “I’m a huge fan of yours, too you know. It’s not everyone who can defeat a giant purple alien hellbent on destroying half the universe’s population.”

“What can we say? All in a day’s work.”

“I hope there isn’t any hard feelings between us when I do eventually escape from these restraints.”

“That’s going to depend on how hard you hit us.”

“I’ll try not to throw a punch.”

Y/N eyed Steve on her right, who had been quiet during the whole exchange. “He looks sturdy though. I’m sure I can take both of you in a fight even with my hands tied behind my back. Well, with my hands tied in my front, rather.”

She did manage to escape that time.

One moment she was sitting at the back of the Quinjet, the very image of regality and the next, the manacles were off her hands, with the Quinjet’s hangar opened as she jumped out of it, the whole interaction happening before either Steve or Natasha had even unbuckled their seat belts. 

Neither Steve nor Natasha were eager to run after her.

The second time the Avengers captured her, Y/N had paid a visit to a suave businessman who’s whole appeal was his efforts to Go Green!

As it turns out, the only green he was after was money. 

Y/N had leaked the news, telling the world about how the businessman’s green message had been nothing but a sham. He’d burned down whole forests to cultivate land in order to create cocaine that he could serve to the masses, exploiting young boys by turning them into dealers and addicts.

Y/N had leaked the story to the press, telling the world about how the businessman’s whole green message was nothing but a lie. Not only was he burning whole forests down to fuel his greed, he’d been doing it to plant cocaine plants, enough to get the whole northern hemisphere high on his supply. It was lucrative business and he’d exploited young boys by forcing them to work in the factory, forcing them to get high to keep them subservient to him.

She’d gone after the businessman first, sending a message to the world that his hypocrisy wouldn’t be tolerated. She hanged him, dangled his body over the side of his company’s skyscraper in New York then proceeded to free the boys stuck in his factories around the world before cutting down the cocaine farms and replanting new trees. 

With the businessman’s shady dealings all over the world, it had been difficult to track down where she’d strike next. Not that the Avengers were actually eager to capture her.

Strangely enough, Bruce would find himself immensely hungry before they had to fly to wherever in the world Y/N was in and it didn’t do well not to feed the Hulk.

They’d finally captured her in a tiny island off the coast of Mexico, the last of the businessman’s strongholds. She’d freed the boys, cured them for their addiction then cut down the cocaine plants. Then she sat down and waited for the Avengers to arrive.

“Took you guys long enough,” Y/N had said as Steve and Natasha walked towards her. She stood up, dusting off her pants.

“Scott drank a lot of orange juice on the way here. We had to make a lot of pitstops.”

Y/N frowned at them. “I distinctly remember that your jet had a restroom.”

“Plumbing was broken according to Tony,” Steve said with a shrug.

She made a noise of assent before she put up her arms. “Alright, I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“Put your hands down. We aren’t going to cuff you.” Natasha led the way to the Quinjet where Scott Lang and Bruce Banner waited.

“Oh, pulling out the red carpet for me?” Y/N batted her eyelashes, almost flirtatiously. “You shouldn’t have.”

“If I had my way, you’d be in cuffs,” Steve huffed under his breath.

Y/N raised a challenging brow. “Not a fan of me, Steven?”

“I’m not a fan of anarchists,” Steve retorted.

“Anarchist,” she repeated with a pleased grin. “I like that. Never been called that one before.”

“Steve,” Nat said in a warning tone. 

The group had already discussed the whole Y/N situation. While majority of the Avengers thought that while Y/N’s actions were brutal, ultimately, the end results and her intention was good. Even if it resulted in the death of one evil soul, none of the could deny that her actions ended up saving hundreds, if not thousands, of lives.

She may not have taken down a giant purple alien hell-bent on wiping out half of all living beings, no one could deny that her actions saved others.

Still, Steve didn’t exactly approve of her methods.

“Listen, I get it,” Y/N said as their group ascended up the Quinjet, occupying one of the empty seats and giving Bruce and Scott a greeting nod. “I’m not exactly conventional but sometimes, it takes breaking the system to help others. You can’t help the survivors if they were victimized by the very system created to protect them.”

“I’m just saying there are proper channels—“

“No there aren’t. There are no proper channels for people like them.”

Steve frowned. “Who, the oppressed?”

“No. Them. The rich and powerful bastards who constantly use their money and resources to take advantage of people. There is no justice when it comes to them.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” Y/N turned to Scott, who watching the exchange between her and Steve with rapt attention. “Lang, weren’t you imprisoned for grand larceny?”

“It was one time,” Scott sighed, “and I didn’t steal that money for myself. I gave it to the people most in need.”

“Right, and how many years did the CEO you stole from spend in jail for stealing from his employees?”

“None,” Scott replied, almost quietly.

She turned back to Steve. “See? The system is broken and sometimes the only way to make it work is to smash it completely to bits.”

He’d ignored her then and it didn’t take much effort for her to escape them. 

“Oh daaarn,” Natasha said sarcastically as her hands pulled at the accelerator, taking them further and further away from where Y/N landed, “we can’t exactly turn back now. Might as well go get some ice cream while we’re at it.”

They met again after the death of a high-profile serial killer. Because the serial killer work in law enforcement, he got off easy and he was released after 10 years in prison despite the fact that he’d killed 23 families, roughly 100 or so people. No one was spared, not women or children or even babies. 

When he got off, Y/N was there to make sure he never hurt anyone again.

“He could have changed!” Steve yelled, his voice bouncing around the Quinjet. He was alone with her this time, having rushed to the scene of the crime. “He could have become a better person.”

“He could have,” Y/N said quietly, her unblinking eyes trained on open sea in front of them. Steve wasn’t sure where he was flying the Quinjet but he’d be damned if he brought Y/N back to US soil. She’d be met with handcuffs as soon as she lands and it wasn’t Y/N he was worried about. Anyone who tries to arrest Y/N would end up in the hospital. “I’m not willing to take that chance.”

He glanced at her. Y/N’s face was passive, a stoic facade as hard as stone but her eyes were soft, the sadness and pain in her eyes unmistakable. 

“When you can do the things I can,” she whispered, her voice so low, Steve strained to hear, “when you’re cursed with powers like I have, you have two choices. You can either lash out at the world or you can do something to fix it. Any person that man would have killed after he was released, their blood would have been on my hands.”

“You are not responsible for other people’s actions,” Steve said, his previous anger leaching from him. 

“You’re right. But I am responsible for my own. Now where are you taking me? If you’re not entirely sure, you can drop me off in Australia. I have some business to attend to.”

“What business?”

“Not that you care but the leader of the Russian mafia is staying there for vacation. That man and his operation has killed hundreds of people. I’d like to pay him a visit. I can portal my way there but using the Quinjet means I have a few minutes to rest my eyes.”

The right thing to do would have been to bring Y/N back to the States to answer for her crimes. Instead, Steve turned the plane around and headed to Australia. And as Y/N slept soundly, he ignored the vice-like grip of the anaconda that constricted itself around his heart.

They landed in Australia after a few hours and he watched as Y/N stretched her body against the seat. “That has to be the best sleep I’ve had since… well I hardly remember.”

“Go,” Steve said, his voice harsh. “Before I change my mind.”

But Y/N did no such thing. Instead she lounged against the seat as if it was her throne and she its lazy queen. “You know, when Natasha or even Tony let me go, I understand their motives. Tony doesn’t trust the legal system and Natasha could have been one of the women I saved in another life. But you? Don’t you have a stick up your ass the length of a stripper pole?”

Steve bristled at her words but kept his mouth shut. His eyes were narrowed into slits as he watched a wry smile pull her lips.

“So, what, Steve? What’s the play here? You really want me to kill this guy? Why are you letting me go?”

“There are a lot of people who deserve to go to jail. You aren’t one of them. What you do with your freedom, that’s up to you.” His words were the truth. She looked at him with an expression he couldn’t really place and for a single second, it was as if a silent agreement passed between them. But the moment was gone and Y/N conjured up a portal and sashayed away.

That was three months ago and any and calls Steve heard regarding Y/N, he’d ignored. He ignored her when Y/N went on a prison break binge, releasing small time drug offenders and helping cure them of their addiction; he’d ignored her when she’d leaked the financials of big pharmaceutical companies, causing their sales to tank and for the price of insulin to go down; he’d ignored her when she’d saved hundreds of women in another sex trafficking ring. 

Except now, today. He’d heard reports from Nat, who decided to keep in touch with Y/N on the down low, on Y/N’s location and he ran here. Now she was looking at him with the most perplexed look on her face. 

She turned, once again busying herself with making his coffee. 

“I’m surprised you aren’t using magic to make the coffee,” Steve said. 

She shrugged. “I like making it by hand. Reminds me of simpler times.”

She set the steaming mug of coffee in front of him before grabbing a small plate and setting a few pieces of the freshly baked cookie in front of him. The coffee was still hot enough to hurt his mouth but Steve didn’t hesitate to take a sip. He’d had worse injuries than a burnt tongue. 

The coffee was delicious. It was sweet, sweeter than he was used to but still delicious. The cookie, on the other hand, was something else entirely. He half suspected that maybe Y/N had sprinkled some kind of magic potion on the cookie because it was the best damn cookie he’d had in his life. The outside of the cookie was soft but the inside was gooey, the butter saturating through every nook and cranny. It melted on his tongue, the dark bitter chocolate and sweet butterscotch encased in a tango of flavor that danced on his tongue. 

He briefly wondered if it would be polite to ask Y/N if he could bring home the entire tray.

“Good?” She asked, taking a sip of her own cup. 

“This is the best cookie I’ve had in my life.”

She smiled at that. “Thanks. It’s an old recipe.”

Mundanity with Y/N was weird but strangely nice.

“So what are you really doing here, Steve?” Y/N asked as she took a seat in the stool next to him. 

He took another sip of the coffee, buying himself some time. “To be honest, I’m not sure.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re not sure why you’re here? Radio silence from the Avengers for three months despite the crimes I committed and then all of a sudden, Steve Rogers grants me a house call.“

When she put it that way, he sounded ridiculous. But the words he’d spoken were the truth. 

Instead, he shifted the subject. It was all he could to escape from Y/N’s scrutinizing gaze anyway. 

“Right before we got to Australia, you said something,” Steve said the words slowly, hoping not to scare Y/N off by his line of questioning, “you said you were cursed by your powers?”

Steve had been mulling over her words for the better part of three months, taking it out like a precious pearl to examine on his quiet days. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it. All he knew was that her words were strange. Y/N was a gifted magic user and Stephen Strange had often commented at her adept ability at it. It took people years, centuries even, to gain the level of mastery Y/N had when it came to magic and yet she used as surely as she breathed.

Why would she refer to it as a curse?

Y/N raised a brow, almost in challenge. “You’re telling me the Avengers haven’t figured it out?”

Y/N usually spoke in riddles and though it always frustrated Steve, he was also incredibly patient and so his next words came out even. “Figured what out?” 

“My powers. I thought Steven Strange would try to figure me out the moment I came on to the scene.”

“He tried. Well, still trying. It frustrates him, y’know. How he can’t find answers to you.”

She grinned at that. “Alright then, I’ll give you the answers to me. Then it’s up to you if you want to tell him or not.”

“Why do you think I’ll keep everything you say to myself?”

“Because you’re Steve Rogers. And you came here, to me, in the middle of the biggest storm of the year, to see if I was okay. I doubt the others know and I’m pretty positive you wouldn’t tell them. So whatever information I say here, right now, you’ll keep to yourself.”

She was right. Of course she was. Steve figured Y/N was rarely wrong about anything. 

“Alright. Go ahead. How’d you get your powers?”

“I was cursed with it by a god.”

She said it so seriously, Steve struggled to figure out if she was telling the truth. 

“Why do you say it’s a curse?”

“Well the god who cursed me said that as the years past, I will become the most powerful magic wielder to exist. My powers will magnify tenfold, twentyfold and one day, I will become so powerful, I’ll have the ability to take over entire universes. Problem with that is magic always comes with a price and mine is my conscience. Every time I use my powers, my conscience becomes blacker until finally, it becomes a void inside of me.”

“So when you use your powers—“

“A piece of me dies with it and is reborn into something I don’t recognize. It’s why I do what I do.” 

Realization dawns on Steve. “You do your own twisted version of good to remind yourself you can be good.”

She gave him a wry smirk tinged with bitterness. “There’s no place for me in Heaven, Steve. Only Hell. But when I get down there, I’m taking as many as I can down with me. Assuming I can die, that is.”

“You’re immortal?” Steve said with a frown. 

“Well, according to the god that cursed me, I will not age and I will never get sick. Though, I imagine that if I was stabbed through the heart and someone finds a way to stop me from using my powers to heal myself, I’d die just like any other human.”

She gave him a pointed look, one that Steve shifting in his seat uncomfortably. 

“If you want to use my weaknesses against me, go right ahead, Rogers,” Y/N said nonchalantly before taking a slow sip of her coffee. “I’ll even stand still while you plunge a knife through my heart.”

“I don’t have any intention of killing you.” And it chilled Steve to the bone to find out how much he meant those words.

“Bummer.” And Y/N looked genuinely disappointed.

“Hey,” Steve said sharply. “Life is a gift. You shouldn’t—“

“Can it, Rogers. I don’t want to hear that right now,” Y/N said but there was no malice in her voice. She just sounded tired.

Fine. If she didn’t want to discuss it, Steve was more than willing to change the subject. “You never said why the god gave you your magic.”

Y/N let out a cynical chuckle. “He was in love with me.”

“What?” Steve asked, not quite believing her words. 

“The god. He was in love with me. I turned him down. Repeatedly, might I add. He got so fed up by my rejection, he decided to curse me with immortality and power. He said that one day, when I get bored with my life, it will drive me to his arms. I intend to live forever without ever thinking of him again just to spite him. And when I gather enough power, I’ll kill him myself. He can take away my humanity but he can’t take away my hatred of him.”

Steve couldn’t stop his smile. Y/N’s story was sad, incredibly so. He couldn’t imagine the profound loneliness that stretched before her. Centuries, maybe even a millennia of isolation and solitariness to spite a vengeful god. But she’d succeed, Steve had no doubts about that. He couldn’t picture anyone squaring up with Y/N and coming out of it victorious on the other side. 

“So, what do we do now, Steve?” Y/N said with a slight sigh. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well you broke a boundary. We never explicitly said it but I think we both decided to keep each other at arms length. I’ve been chummy with Nat and Yelena up to a point but not you. Back in Australia, I think we both agreed that our relationship will be strictly professional, even if we never really said the words out loud. But now, you’re here. What do we do about that?”

“I don’t know.”

Y/N simply sighed before taking a sip of her coffee. “Every morning, when I wake up, I find myself looking for reasons to get out of bed.”

“What are you doing?” Steve said with a frown. 

“I celebrated my 100th birthday last (birthday month). I love to read. When I get bored, I write poetry. I love music though I was never talented enough with it but I do have centuries to learn now so who, knows, I might start. I love art too. I’ve been everywhere in the world and yet I never fail to visit a museum to see their art. I like sad paintings. The kind that can bring people to tears.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

She looked at him like he was the biggest idiot in the world and the answer should have been obvious by now. But Steve knew how to look past the arrogant veneer and see the vulnerability that swam in her eyes. “I’m going to live forever, Steve. And even if I’ll always remember other people, I won’t always be remembered. I figured, it’d be nice if someone knew some things about me. The last person I knew from my old life, she recently died. As humans, we are the people we know. I want someone to know me, even a little.”

“I miss music from the 1940s,” Steve said, not even thinking about the words. “Sam and Nat have both been trying to update me about the music of the decade but nothing beats my music. I like wearing converse because it’s one of the few things that never changed since I woke from the ice. I don’t like the rain. It reminds me too much of the war. There’s a boxing gym I use to go to back in New York. I never had a chance to box before because I was always too sick but I use to accompany Bucky whenever he had a match. When I was injected by the serum, I never had a chance to go back and so when I woke up from the ice it was one of the first places I went to.”

“Was the gym still operational?”

“It’s a little run down but I make it work.”

She smiled at him and Steve tried to ignore the jolt of warmth that shot down his spine.

“Why are you telling me these things?” She asked, an eyebrow raised in question, a playful expression beginning to bloom from her face. 

“Friends know things about each other.”

And then Y/N’s face lightened like the sun peeking from the clouds after a storm, all warmth and joy. 

The rain. Steve hadn’t even realized it had stopped. He glanced at the window behind Y/N and saw that the day looked almost as bright as Y/N’s smile.

“You need to go, don’t you,” Y/B said a little wistfully. 

“Yeah,” Steve said, a little wistful too. He finished the cup to the dregs letting its sweet flavor fill him up til he was sure he’d be able to taste it until he got home. 

Y/N led them out of the kitchen and back to the living room before she opened the front door and let him out. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N,” Steve said as he pushed his sweaty hands into his pocket.

“You will?” She said, surprise laced in her voice. 

“You said you struggle to find reasons to wake up in the morning. I’ll be a reason to. Friends do that, you know.”

“I know,” Y/N said but without her usual bravado. She looked almost roseate and Steve suddenly realized how strange it is that despite the fact that he’s seen her many times before, he never realized how pretty she was. As if a sudden burden had been lifted from her shoulders, making her look younger than actually was. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Steve.”

“See you tomorrow.”

And she closed the door.

#avengers fanfic #avengers imagines #avengers oneshot #steve rogers angst #steve rogers imagines #steve x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers x reader #captain america oneshots #captain america imagines #captain america x reader #captain america #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #scott lang #bruce banner #tony stark #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers oneshots #steve rogers #captain america fluff #captain america angst

[mushrubes]

What did you do?

Masterlist | marvel masterlist |

Requested : no

prompt 158.  “What did you do to me to make me fall in love with you.” +  102. “Thanks for the trauma, by the way.”

Pairing : Steve Rogers x Stark! (they/them) reader

Type : Angst + fluff

Word count : 1.9k

have a great day/night!! <3

-----------------------------------

“Is that even a question?! No!” Y/n gasped, looking at Steve dumbfounded. He sat on the chair opposite them, his arms resting on his chest. “I have another chance to give her the life I promised.” Steve argued, confused as to why they scoffed at his response. “And that makes it okay to leave everything else? To leave Bucky yet again? To leave your new family? To leave me?” they asked in disbelief, unable to comprehend what Steve was saying and trying to reason. They got up and walked towards him. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel the tension between us two for God’s sake Steve!” they huffed, shaking their head at him. “Do you really love me or was that just a lie?” they asked quietly, Steve’s gut dropping. Before the fight, he had confessed to them - and it was true.

 There was no one else that made him feel like they did. Y/n was the first person he looked for in a crowded room and after a mission, who’s voice and laughter he constantly longed to hear and the first person he’d want to see every day. They had been there since he came out of the ice and had never left his side. But he couldn’t ignore the constant war he had going on inside of him between his head and his heart. His heart desired Y/n - that was who he truly loved and who he wanted in his future. Meanwhile, his head told him he was wrong and that Y/n was not his destiny - unlike Peggy. He had promised her a dance, and when he first came out of ice and saw himself young and practically watched the supposed love of his life practically die in front of him, it hurt. If he lived his normal life, like he was supposed to, he would have been with her - it was unfair for him to take Y/n when they weren’t his.

 Y/n on the other hand, felt very differently. They had always been understanding to the super soldier, knowing that he had a lot to take in when he first came out and knew there would always be a special place for Peggy in his heart. But when they had started talking, and he had started taking them out on dates and treating them differently to the others, it was no wonder they had fell for each other. Even Bucky had said he’d never seen Steve so happy, so himself even when he was around Peggy. Which is why they couldn’t understand Steve’s sudden urge to go back and abandon them. 

“You’re unbelievable. I can’t do this anymore.” Y/n whispered, their voice cracking and eyes starting to mist as they walked out. Steve felt the urge to go after them, to make it right, to tell them it was them who he truly wanted - but he never got out of his seat. He groaned internally as he heard Bucky and Sam’s voices coming from outside, both asking Y/n if they were okay and shouting their name in distress before basically storming into the room Steve was sat in. “What the hell happened?” Sam demanded, Bucky pressing a hand to his shoulder to reassure him. Sam and Y/n had been friends since childhood, so he had always been rather defensive of them. “I’m thinking of going back.” Steve answered, silence deafening the room. Neither of them said anything, taking in what he had just confessed. “Going back? As in to...her?” Sam spoke up after a while, his hands forming fists as he saw the super soldier nod. “Steve, you can’t do that.” he commented, Bucky still not saying a word. “You’ll destroy her.” he reminded, staring daggers into him. He sat there for a few minutes before walking over to Sam, whispering something and him nodding, Sam walking out. 

“Steve...” Bucky started, sitting opposite him and sighing. Bucky wasn’t surprised with this, more disappointed in his best friend. “You need to think about this. There’s one left, you can only make one trip. Meaning if you go, you can’t come back - ever.” he reminded, Steve nodding and his face dropping, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. “If you go, you’re leaving us behind - me, Sam, Y/n - your family. I know what’s going on in that head and I can assure you, as much as you won’t like to hear this, Peggy was able to somewhat move on.” he continued, ignoring the painful wince Steve let out, the memory of meeting her when he had just come out fresh in his mind. He wasn’t wrong, although she never had a family of her own, she did seem content with the life she did have after the war, even if it wasn’t what she imagined. 

“Yes, you promised her a dance, but you promised Y/n you’d never hurt them nor leave them. If you pick Peggy, you’ll break her.” he explained, Steve agreeing with him. “I know, Buck, but I don’t belong here. You fit in fine and I just...feel old.” he tried to explain, unsure of how to put his feelings into words. “If you weren’t meant to end up with Y/n, it wouldn’t have happened.” Bucky simply stated, standing up. “Give Peggy that last dance after you’ve returned the stones if you need to put your mind at rest, but please, return back.” Bucky pleaded, Steve going to respond before Sam came rushing in panting. 

“Sorry to interrupt but uh...Y/n’s gone.”

----------------------------------------------

It had been a year since the incident and Steve had listened to Bucky, returning back for him and for Y/n. However, Y/n was still nowhere to be found, none of them having seen them. The three had recently been on a mission since and were currently sat in the new compound, Bruce patching up some of the wounds they had got. “Hey Bruce?” Steve asked once he knew Sam and Bucky weren’t listening in. He had told the pair to ask Bruce about Y/n’s whereabouts and the two had immediately told him it was a horrid plan, looking at each other with wide eyes making Steve suspicious. “What’s up?” Banner answered, not looking up from the wound he was currently stitching on Steve’s leg where it had been sliced open.

 “Do you know where Y/n is?” he questioned, Bruce finishing his leg and looking at him in confusion. “Yeah? They came back from their mission ages ago, they’re with Tony and Pepper?” he answered, confused as to why he was being asked. “What?” Steve questioned, confused as to his answer. They had tried asking Tony almost straight away, he had told them he had no idea of where they went. “Yeah? Did they not tell you?” Bruce wondered, washing his hands. “Guys! We’re going to Tonys!” Steve demanded, standing up despite Bruce’s demands to stay seated. Bucky and Sam’s faces dropped as they heard what he said, looking at Bruce who had now realised his mistake. “Was not meant to say that.” Bruce awkwardly laughed, stepping back as the pair glared at him. 

“Bruce!”

---------------------------------

“Oh, come on! I’m your dad and I’m not even your favourite avenger?” Tony whined to the seven-year-old who had Y/n’s mask on. They laughed and stuck their tongue out at Tony who rolled his eyes. “Suck it Stark, I’m the cooler one.” they bragged, taking the mask off Morgan and picking her up. “Anyway, foods ready.” he informed, Morgan huffing that she had to stop playing and now had to go eat. The pair stopped in their tracks as they saw a car pull up and park in the driveway. “Go to the door, I’ll see who it is.” Tony stated as he nodded slightly at Sam who walked out first. Y/n was stood by the door, Morgan in their hands and watching as the three figures step out of the car. Their eyes locked with his, their heart dropping and a gasp leaving their lips. “Auntie/Uncle Y/n? What’s uncle Steve doing?” Morgan asked, Y/n shaking their head and heading into the house to Pepper. Steve watched as he saw them say something to Pepper, placing Morgan down and heading further into the house, probably to their room.

“What is he doing here?” Tony asked, looking between Bucky and Sam, annoyed by Steve’s presence. “Bruce told him about Y/n/n.” Sam sighed, looking back at the blonde. “You guys knew?!” he huffed, feeling betrayed by his own best friends. “You didn’t for a good reason, Rogers. You hurt them.” Tony reminded, pointing a finger at his old friend. “I didn’t mean to-” Steve started as Tony walked closer, laughing sarcastically. “I don’t care if you didn’t mean to, you did!” he shouted, too engrossed in having a go at Steve and getting his anger out on Steve he didn’t realise Y/n walking out and over. “Tony! That’s enough, go eat. Bucky and Sam, you can have some too if you want. I’ll talk to Steve.” they assured, Sam and Bucky nodding and heading in as Tony tried to argue. “I’ll be fine, now go.” they ordered, Tony putting his hands up in defence and heading in. There weren’t many people he listened to but if it was either Pepper or Y/n he’d follow their orders straight away, afraid of what would happen.

“You came back.” Y/n said, walking towards the lake and sitting on the bank next to it, Steve following. “Bucky persuaded me after you left.” he stated, his palms sweaty with nerves. “Thanks for the trauma, by the way.” they joked, Steve frowning as he knew they were referring to him ‘abandoning’ them. “I’m sorry Y/n, but-” he started but stopped as they laughed, shaking their head at him. “There’s always a but with you.” They argued, knowing Steve always had somewhat of an excuse to everything, no matter what it was. He sat there staring at the rippling water. “You haven’t changed a bit, still not able to admit stuff to me.” Y/n sighed, getting up and slowly walking away towards the house.

This time, Steve didn’t let them walk away. “What did you do to me to make me fall in love with you?” he questioned. They stopped in their tracks. Silence. They turned around to face Steve, their heart speeding up and the world slightly spinning. “What?” they said quietly, looking up at Steve with a soft look on their face. “What did you do to me to make me fall in love with you? No one’s made me feel the way I feel towards you.” he admitted, now standing up too. Y/n found themself taking a step towards him unconsciously. “You’re lying.” they whispered, now only a few steps away from him. Steve stepped forward, breaking the gap between them. “I mean it, Y/n/n. I was scared, you deserve someone better and someone your age for a start.” he huffed, smiling as he heard a laugh from Y/n. They pressed their hands to his cheeks softly, rubbing their thumbs across them. “Steve, I don’t want them. I want you. My capsicle.” they teased, making him groan at the nickname. “I’m sorry Y/n.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to their forehead. “I forgive you, Steve. I’m just glad to have you back.” they grinned, pulling him in for a kiss.

“I love you too, doll.”

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers imagines #captain america #captain america imagines #captain america oneshot #captain america x reader #captain america oneshots #steve rogers x stark!reader #captain america x stark! reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x male reader #captain america x female reader #captain america x male reader #captain america fluf #captain america angst

[tuiccim]

Pickup Game

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3509

Warnings: Flirt, Fluff, Smut, Oral (f rec)

Summary: An after party game of pickup lines leads to a confession and an even more fun night in bed.

A/N: Special thanks to my hype princess & beta reader @whisperlullaby.

The after party of just Avengers and close friends was in full swing. Drinks and laughter flowed as you enjoyed each other's company.

“Okay, okay. Your best pick up line! Let’s have ‘em!” Clint yells over the most recent spate of laughter. “Tony, whatcha got?”

Tony smirks before opening his arms wide and declaring, “I am Iron Man.” He grins as everyone heckles him, “What can I say? Works every time!”

“Really?” Pepper raises an eyebrow.

“Used to! Used to work,” Tony backpedals. “Rhodey, save me here, buddy!”

“Okay, okay,” Rhodey laughs as he glances at Natasha who is standing by him and tugs at his sleeve, “Feel my shirt. Know what it’s made of? Boyfriend material.”

"Nice," Natasha scoffs.

"Let's hear yours then!" Rhodey huffs.

"Ever had a White Russian?" Natasha asks, holding up her glass.

"No," Rhodey looks at her suspiciously.

"Want to?" She says seductively. 

Rhodey chuckles, "Smooth. Okay, Clint, what've you got?"

Clint bats his eyes at Sam, standing next to him and says, "Well, here I am. What are your other two wishes, big boy?"

Sam laughs while rolling his eyes, "So, what you guys are telling me is that you have no game?"

"Give us your best then, Rocket Man!"

"You know, dating is a numbers game. So, can I have yours?" Sam grins.

"Boooring!" Tony heckles. "Steve, what's your favorite?"

"I've never been good with pickup lines. That was more Bucky's territory," Steve tilts his head towards the dark-haired super soldier. 

"Thanks," Bucky says sarcastically,  "I'm a little out of practice with pickup lines."

"Aw, come on, Buck, give it a shot," you pipe in and then try to hide your embarrassment at having drawn attention to yourself. Even though you hoped he'd test out the line on you. Your attraction to the man was undeniable and you'd harbored a crush since you'd met him. You leaned back against the wall with your hands behind your back and raised your eyebrow in challenge to him. 

Bucky's face betrayed a moment of discomfiture before he straightened his shoulders and stepped over to you. He placed a hand on the wall above you, leaning in with a small smirk, "If I told you you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?"

You could hear some chuckling and comments in the background but it faded as you stared up at Bucky. God, he was fine as hell and you were doing your best to control your erratic heartbeat.

"Sorry, doll, that wasn't very good, huh?"

You don't know where the gall came from but, before you realized what you were doing the words slipped out of your mouth. "Don't worry, Buck, I'm not big on being picked up. I prefer to be pinned down." Your eyebrow raised as you said the words and you smirked, bringing your glass to your lips for a sip. 

Bucky's jaw drops as the room erupts in laughter and cheers. Tony crows, "She wins!" 

Clint laughs heartily as he agrees, "Hands down!"

After a few moments, you reach up and close Bucky's mouth, “And to answer your questions, yes, I would,” you whisper with a wink as you walk away. 

A little while later, the party was winding down and you decided it was time to slip out. Your nerves were getting the better of you. Thoughts ran amuck as to what Bucky thought of you and whether the attraction you felt was reciprocated. He’d been in a conversation with some of the guys since the game ended and you hoped to catch a glimpse, some sign of mutual interest but now you were walking away with your tail between your legs. God, what must he think of you and that brazen comment. 

Hitting the button for the elevator, you berate yourself for thinking you ever stood a chance. Your head snapped up when a deep voice whispered, “You know, you have a beautiful body.”

Grinning, you turn and press yourself against Bucky, “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” Bucky smirks at you. Without warning, he stoops and picks you up as if you weigh nothing. 

“Bucky!” You squeal as the elevator doors open. 

He carries you in, hitting the button for his floor with his elbow, “Don’t worry, doll. I know you aren’t big on being picked up but I’ll have you pinned down soon enough.”

You raise your eyebrow at him, “It was just a line, Buck.”

His confidence falters for a second, “Oh, uh-”

“Don’t worry, baby. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” you smirk.

“Oh, you’re naughty,” Bucky laughs.

“I prefer ‘playful’.”

“I like playful,” Bucky adjusts you in his arms so that your back is pressed to the elevator wall and your faces are at the same level. 

You use the opportunity to wrap your legs around him and look at him expectantly. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. 

You’re surprised by the request after the way he’d handled you. It warmed your heart that he would seek your consent and you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, “Please.”

The kiss is intense. He presses into you as his lips move over yours. His tongue slips out seeking entry and you oblige him immediately. You separate only when the elevator dings your arrival. He lowers your legs gently and takes your hand. Leading you down the hallway, Bucky says awkwardly, “I, uh, was kind of surprised when you, um, said that tonight.” 

“What? The pickup line?” You tilt your head as you look at him. 

“No, the… thing you whispered afterwards.”

“Really, why?” You thought your feelings for him were fairly obvious. 

“I mean, I’m a mess and you’re so put together. I just,” he shrugs, “kinda thought you were out of my league, ya know.”

“No,” you laugh, “no, I don’t know. I have never thought of myself as put together.  Thanks for that but I’m kind of a mess, too. I think we all are in our own ways.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Bucky smiles as he opens his door and guides you in. 

You suddenly feel awkward as you walk inside the room. The passion displayed in the elevator had mellowed as you walked and talked together into a camaraderie. You were unsure how to get back to it. 

“Would you like a drink?” Bucky asks as he comes up behind you, his lips brushing your neck and his hands caress your hips. You jump a little at the unexpected contact. 

“I think I had enough earlier,” you breathe, heat pooling between your legs. 

“I haven’t had enough, I haven’t had nearly enough. I need another taste,” Bucky says as he turns you around to capture your mouth. You oblige him willingly, snaking your arms around his neck as you arch into him. 

Abandoning any reserve you would normally have, you reach for the buttons on his shirt. He reaches for the zipper of your dress but his hands still. You pull back to look at him curiously. 

“You’re sure?” He asks. 

You smile and pull the tails of his shirt from his pants while saying, “Barnes, if you don’t get me naked and pin me down, I will never forgive you.”

He pulls you against him forcefully, grinning as he pulls down your zipper, “We can’t have that.”

Clothes are discarded quickly as he backs you to the bed. Bucky slides his hands into your panties to grab your ass and you gasp when he picks you up. Laying you on the bed he pulls your panties off. You expect him to follow you down but instead his eyes take a slow path up your body. Propping yourself on your elbows, you resist the urge to cover yourself but tremble as he studies you. He smiles, grabs a discarded t-shirt, and rips the bottom half from it. Your eyebrow raises at the display. 

“And what do you plan to do with that, Sgt. Barnes?”

His smirk as he advances has butterflies dancing in your stomach. He grabs your arms, twists the shirt around your wrists, and hauls them above your head as he pins you to the bed. 

“Happy now?” Bucky rumbles as he kisses your neck. 

“Almost. I’d like these off,” you use your legs to pull at the underwear he still has on, “and an orgasm or two would be nice.” 

Holy shit, you don’t know where this confidence had come from. Maybe because Bucky wanted you. Maybe because of whatever drink that was that Natasha had handed you. Whatever it was, you were enjoying the results. 

“Only one or two?” Bucky teases as he nibbles along your clavicle. “I bet I can do better.”

“Is that so?” You gasp as his tongue plays over your nipple. 

“Mm-hm,” he murmurs before plucking at your other nipple with his lips. He lets go of your hands that are still bound above your head as he slides his tongue down your stomach. Your breathing picks up when he reaches your navel and proceeds to kiss his way down to your mound. Your eyes screw shut to take in every sensation. When he spreads your legs further apart, you feel the contrast of warm skin and cool metal on your thighs. Anticipation builds, making you lick your lips and you can’t help the whimper that slips out when you feel a gentle finger trace your slit. 

“Fuck,” Bucky whispers reverently before his tongue follows the same path as his fingers. His metal arm curls around your leg and he rests his hand on your abdomen, effectively holding you in place as he explores your folds. It was almost unbearable, the way his tongue slid around to touch everywhere but where you needed him most. 

“Bucky, please,” you whimper desperately. 

His chuckle rumbles against your core. His fingers replace his tongue, taking the same lazy path. “Poor baby, am I not giving you what you want?” His finger tip barely grazes your clit and you whine. “Are you feeling needy?” His finger circles your entrance and his tongue gives the softest lick to your clit. Your hips flex, desperate for more friction, making Bucky press his metal hand more firmly against you. “I like seeing you like this.” Another small lick to your clit. “Wet, under me, and so desperate.”

“Bucky, pleeeaase,” you can’t keep the whine out of your voice. You don’t think you’ve ever been quite so turned on and the teasing was making you a writhing mess. 

“Say please again and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”

“Please!” the word rushes out of you. His fingers and tongue driving you mad. 

His tongue moves slowly, lapping back and forth over your clit while his finger still teases. It’s maddeningly delicious but not enough at the same time. He holds your hips hostage, not allowing you to move. You mewl with each motion of his tongue over you, your body on fire and screaming for just a little more until your mouth opens to plead, “More! Oh, god, I need more!”

Bucky lifts his head, a devilish smirk across his mouth, “Oh, precious, you didn’t say please. We’ll have to start all over again now.” His finger goes back to tracing the slow path over your cunt. 

“What?” You gape at him as he plays with you. 

“You didn’t say please, doll,” Bucky repeats, allowing his lips to brush over your thigh, far too far from where you wanted his lips. 

You felt like crying. You felt like screaming. You felt like ripping off your bindings, flipping him over, and riding his face until you came all over it. Unfortunately, you knew you’d never overpower him and, if you were really honest with yourself, this little game he was playing was hot as fuck. You’d never been treated like this and he had made you a gushing mess. 

“I’m sorry, Bucky. Please, please, I need more,” you whimper at him with doe eyes, hoping for a reprieve. 

“You need more, precious?” Bucky’s finger grazes lightly over your clit. 

“Oh, please!” Your hips try to buck against his hold but he merely chuckles as he holds you in place easily. His finger circles your clit slowly as his tongue takes a meandering path up your thigh.

“Please, baby, please!” You whine as he makes his way back to your apex and are rewarded when his tongue takes the place of his finger. His motions are still slow and deliberate while his finger brushes over your entrance again causing you to clench around nothing. Desperate for more, you start to say the one word you know will earn you some relief, “Plea- OOH!!!-” In the middle of your plea, his finger had entered you and he sucked on your clit suddenly. “Yes, fuck, please, please, please…,” the word became your only mantra as he fucked you with fingers and tongue. Your legs began to shake and then he curled his fingers into that perfect spot, making bright white flash before your eyes and a scream rend from your throat. You came hard, your muscles clenching. Your legs try to close but Bucky’s broad shoulders between them keep you open to him. He laps at you through the aftershocks.  

“Fuck, I could stay here for days,” Bucky groaned. His fingers curled slowly as his tongue made gentle licks.

You gasped and moaned, words and thoughts hard to come by in the haze. “Bucky,” you finally manage to whisper his name as if it was the sweetest endearment. 

“I know. I know, doll. Don’t worry, I’m not done yet,” his mouth nuzzled you as he said the words. Flicks of his tongue came closer together, “I need another one from you, precious. Gotta hear you make those sweet sounds again.” 

“Bucky, oh, fuck. Please, it’s so good,” you gasp the words out, nearly overstimulated and yet still desperate for his touch. 

“You know how hard I am hearing you say that?” Bucky groans against your clit, vibrations coursing through you. His tongue begins moving faster, making swift circles. 

“I… I- fuck. Please,” you stutter, unable to form sentences anymore. Bucky’s fingers curl more firmly into that spongy spot inside and your back tries to arch despite his arm holding you firmly in place. He was moving his tongue as if his sole purpose in life was to make you fly into a million pieces. You were a whimpering mess, unable to form words and so close to the edge again. When he growled against you again, your eyes flew open and you looked down your body at him. His cobalt eyes met yours and the intensity in his gaze was a hit straight to your core. Your muscles began to spasm as you watched him, so focused on your pleasure and aroused by your responses. Your scream is stifled by the overwhelming intensity of the orgasm that rips through you. Your hands flex around the bonds that hold them in place. 

As Bucky kisses his way back up your body, you manage to come back to yourself… mostly. You wanted to touch him, to hold him against you, to run your hands over his body. You attempt to untwist your hands from the scrap of t-shirt but the deceptively loose looking knot doesn’t budge. 

“Bucky, baby, please can you untie me?” You whisper. 

Bucky had paused at your breasts to show them some attention. They were deserving of the most reverent of worship in his mind. His tongue traced your nipple before he spoke, “Why? I’ve got you tied up, pinned down, and perfectly on display for me.”

“I want to touch you, please,” you gasp as he takes your nipple into his mouth to gently suckle. 

“Hmm,” he muses as he makes his way to your other breast, giving it the same loving attention. “If you’ll answer a question for me.”

“Anything,” you sigh, enjoying each motion of his mouth over you. You feel the rumble of his chuckle at your quick response.

“How long?” He asks. 

You slide your leg to brush against his cock, still covered by his boxer briefs before saying cheekily, “I didn’t bring a measuring tape with me but I’d say more than adequate.”

Bucky lets out a small moan at the contact and then chuckles, “Not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean, baby?”

“How long did I waste not having you in my bed?” Bucky asks as he brings his face level to yours. 

“You mean, how long have I wanted you or are you asking how long I’ve liked you?”

“Both,” Bucky narrows his eyes but gives you a small smile. 

“If I’m really honest, I’ve always wanted you. You’re kinda hot, ya know?” You smile and bite your lip. 

“And the other?” Bucky asks, flexing his hips into you so that his hard cock nestles between your legs. 

You gasp and arch into him, “About five minutes after meeting you.”

“Seriously, when?” Bucky scoffs gently. 

“You were so sweet and a little self-conscious and I just adored you,” you nudged his nose with yours, encouraging his lips to find yours. He kissed you, long and lovingly, while he released your hands. You both seemed to settle into each other as your hands explored, finally free. The heat began to return, hips flexing into each other, craving the friction, but before things got too carried away, you cradled Bucky’s face in your hands and forced him to look at you. “How long?” You repeat his question. 

“Always,” he whispers passionately before taking your mouth again. 

It was all you needed. You reached for the band of his underwear, wanting nothing left to separate you. You managed to get the offending garment off of him and circle his cock with your hand. He takes a sharp intake of breath and then groans. Definitely more than adequate, you think to yourself. 

“Doll,” Bucky presses his forehead to yours, “I need to be inside you.”

“Oh, precious, you didn’t say please,” you tease him, rubbing the head of his cock through your slick. Your core aches to be filled but you can’t resist the chance to tease him just a bit as he’d done to you earlier. 

Bucky chuckles, “Knew I should have kept you tied up.”

You rub the head of his cock over your clit and whimper loudly in his ear, “I still haven’t heard it.” You pump him in your hand but still won’t let him slip into you despite his attempts to maneuver his hips. 

“Fuuuuck, please!” Buchy growls, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. 

You waste no time lining him up with your entrance. He presses in a few agonizingly slow inches before grabbing your hands and hauling them above your head. He stares into you as he growls out, “I should pin you down,” he sinks in a little more, “and tease you mercilessly.” His hips slide slowly forward until he’s fully seated inside of you. “But I don’t think either of us would survive it right now.” He slides out a couple of inches before snapping his hips forward, taking your breath away. He sets a slow but driving pace, staring into your eyes as he fucks you. His hands slide down to hold your face and he kisses you fiercely, his thrusts coming a little faster as he does. You wrap your arms around his chest, pulling him to you, sliding one down to grab onto his ass. You encourage every movement, the drag of his cock tipping you closer to the precipice. 

He buries his face in your neck, whispering praises and encouragement, “Shit, you’re squeezing me so tight, doll.”

“Bucky, fuck, I’m gonna-,” your breath catches as you fall over the edge. Your body sings as you come, trembling and moaning with each wave. 

“You’re so fucking pretty, doll. So fucking pretty,” Bucky grits out as you clench around him. It only takes a few more sloppy thrusts for him to lose himself inside you. His hips flex with each aftershock that hits him. 

Rolling to his side, Bucky pulls you against him. You nuzzle his chest as you both catch your breath. Despite the lethargy settling over both of you, Bucky's hands wander continuously over your skin and you bask in the attention. 

“You'll stay, won't you?” Bucky whispers.

“I don't know,” you say sleepily, “Do you hog the covers?”

Bucky chuckles, “I'm pretty good at sharing.”

“Mmm, then I'll stay,” you yawn and a little giggle escapes you.

“What?” Bucky smiles at your mirth-filled eyes. 

“That's the first time a cheesy pick up line ever worked on me,” you giggle again.

“I'll have to come up with some others. See if I get lucky again,” Bucky laughs as he kisses the top of your head.

“I'd say your chances are pretty good,” you smirk at him, “But maybe next time, I should be the one to pin you down.”

“Only if you say please, doll.”

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[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof

Summary: You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell. | Series Masterlist

Word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff, Sharing A Bed, Enemies to Lovers

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by anon:

could i maybe request wanda x r where the whole team kinda mistreats them and wanda is especially bad. & r saving wanda on a mission, with this: wanda: “How'd you know you were bulletproof?" r: "I didn't. I just knew that you weren't."

Author's note: Thank you to the anon who requested this :) Not sure if this is exactly how you wanted it, but I had fun writing the battle (my first time!) Hope you don't mind I took some liberties ;) Takes place before Civil War.

--

“You don’t have to be so mean to them,” Natasha tells her. 

Wanda's eyes narrow as she continues to fixate on you, her glare seemingly willing the daggers to find their mark. You can sense the energy of her powers tingling in the air, but she maintains control, stopping the daggers just short of their target.

“They need to know what they’re up against,” Wanda retorts, her accent slipping through in a rare moment. “If they’re going to be one of us, they have to prove themselves.”

Natasha moves to stand between you and Wanda, her body language calm but assertive. “They will, in time. But not like this.”

You can feel your heart pounding, but you refuse to let Wanda see any fear in your eyes. Your choice to leave your former life and join this team wasn't made lightly, and you won't be intimidated.

“I'm right here,” you say, stepping forward. “And I'm not going anywhere. If you want to test me, do it properly.”

Wanda smirks, and the daggers drop to the floor, clattering loudly in the silence. “Impressive,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

Steve Rogers, observing from the sidelines, steps in to defuse the situation. His authoritative presence commands respect, and his voice is steady and even. “That's enough for today. We're a team, and we need to start acting like one.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with understanding but also a hint of caution. “However,” he continues, his tone shifting, “You'll still be sleeping in the cells.”

Your heart plummets, each word from Steve feeling like a blade to your chest. Being sent back to that room, devoid of windows, with only a tiny bed and a comforter too thin to ward off the chill, feels like a betrayal every time. You've spent nights there, shivering and reflecting on your decision to join this team, yet still, you find yourself confined.

“After several months of captivity, even cooking your dinner, you still don't trust me?” you ask, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice.

Steve's expression softens, but his resolve remains firm. “It's not about trust,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of experience and pain. “We've been crossed so many times before, mostly by former HYDRA agents.”

Like you, he doesn’t need to say.

You understand the logic, but it doesn't make the reality any easier to swallow. The sense of being an outsider, the cold isolation of the cells—it wears on you.

Wanda, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly speaks up. “Maybe you should just leave then. If it's so unbearable, why stay?”

The room goes quiet. 

A thousand retorts spring to your mind, but you swallow them down, unwilling to escalate the situation further. The temptation to throw back that it's rich coming from her, considering she's also a former footsoldier of HYDRA, is strong, but you bite your tongue. 

You look at her, stunned by the bluntness of her suggestion, but also recognizing the challenge in her eyes. 

Her words strike deeper than she may realize. Leaving isn't an option you've entertained, mainly because there's nowhere for you to go. No one left in your life to turn to. This makeshift “family” despite their reservation and distance, is all you have.

-

The days that follow are marked by a subtle but relentless isolation. 

In the training room, Wanda's partnership becomes more aggressive than usual. Her powers lash out without warning, her critiques sharp and cutting. You hold your own, but the lack of camaraderie is palpable. Each comment she makes stings, and with every barb, you feel more and more alone.

At meal times, the rest of the Avengers seem to be in their own world, deep in conversation, sharing stories, laughing. You sit at the end of the table, your presence barely acknowledged, a shadow among them. Your attempts to join in are met with curt replies or indifference. You try to brush it off, believing that you should be used to rejection by now. But no matter how much you tell yourself that you're accustomed to it, that you've developed a thick skin, the pain is still there, raw and fresh.

Mission briefings are no better. Your opinions and insights are consistently overlooked. You contribute where you can, but your ideas are dismissed without consideration. You are a tool, a means to an end, not a part of the team. The realization gnaws at you, festering in the pit of your stomach.

Casual encounters with the team become equally disheartening. Tony passes you in the hallway without so much as a glance. Natasha avoids eye contact. Bruce mumbles something noncommittal when you try to engage him in conversation. Steve's assignments are devoid of the warmth or encouragement he shows to everyone else.

Your cell becomes a constant reminder of your status, metaphor for how the entire team treats you. 

You’re both just a weapon and a first-aid kit at their disposal.

Wanda is relentless, her words sharp and her gaze cold. You have no idea why she treats you worse than any of them, why her manner towards you has turned so hostile. You don't understand why you get under her skin without even trying, why she seems to target you with a venom that feels deeply personal.

You were expecting that Wanda would be the one to understand what it feels like to be an outsider, given that you both share a common history as former HYDRA agents. 

As the days turn into weeks, the isolation wears you down. The walls of your cell seem to close in, and a growing determination to prove yourself begins to take hold. 

You'll show them all that you're more than just a disposable weapon.

But underlying that determination is a gnawing doubt, a fear that no matter what you do, it will never be enough to earn their respect, their trust, or their friendship. It's a lonely road, and for the first time, you begin to wonder if Wanda's earlier suggestion might hold some truth.

Perhaps it would be easier to leave.

-

It’s not like you know the extent of your abilities, but they bring you along the most dangerous missions for one thing:

Your healing ability.

On top of your martial arts training, you provide a sense of security to your teammates, knowing that you'll be there to heal them if they get hurt.

Now, you find yourself on one such mission, infiltrating a den of underground supers. These aren't ordinary criminals; they're mercenaries hired to carry out the dirty work of high-ranking government officials. It's a treacherous job, one filled with unknown risks, and you've been paired with Wanda for the operation.

As you and Wanda are attempting to escape, things take a turn for the worse. You find yourselves cornered in an alley, your escape route cut off by a group of armed thugs and a few individuals displaying unnerving superpowers.

Wanda takes on those with special abilities, her eyes glowing red as she unleashes her powers in a flurry of attacks. You, on the other hand, focus on the armed assailants, wielding two-handed pistols with expert precision. Bullets fly, and bodies fall as you both fight for your lives.

But in the midst of the chaos, you notice something that sends a chill down your spine. Snipers, perched on a nearby rooftop, taking aim at Wanda. Even with your healing abilities, you know that a precise shot to the head would be fatal.

“Wanda, get down!” you shout, but she's too engrossed in her battle to hear you. Your mind races, knowing that you have only seconds to act. 

Without a second thought, you turn and run towards Wanda, your body moving on pure instinct. Bullets whiz by your ear, but you keep going, your focus solely on reaching her before it's too late.

You leap into the air, positioning yourself between Wanda and the snipers just as they pull the trigger. 

You hear the distant release of the bullet, muted but deadly.

The world seems to slow down as you brace for the impact, only to feel the bullets bounce off your skin.

You land, unscathed, your mind reeling from the realization that you're bulletproof. But there's no time to dwell on it.

Wanda looks at you, her eyes wide with shock but also gratitude. “How did you–”

“No time!” you cut her off, urging her to keep fighting. “We have to get out of here!”

Wanda's eyes flare with a vivid scarlet as she zeroes in on the snipers in the vicinity. With a flourish of her hands, she uses her powers to locate each of their positions. A pulse of energy emanates from her fingertips, reaching out to the snipers' weapons, and within moments, the firearms disintegrate into dust, leaving the men defenseless.

Seeing an opening, you reach for Wanda's arm, your grip firm but not rough. There's no time to waste, and you start pulling her towards the exit, half running, half dragging her to safety. Her breath is warm on your neck, her body close to yours, as you weave through the maze of alleyways, your heart pounding in your chest.

Once you're at a safe distance, Wanda turns to you. “How'd you know you were bulletproof?”

“I didn't,” you admit, still in disbelief, and much to Wanda’s horror that you almost got yourself killed for her sake. “I just knew you weren't. And if those bullets got to you, I wouldn't be able to heal someone who's already dead.”

Wanda stares at you, her eyes searching your face as if she's trying to see something… deeper. Her lips part, like she wants to say something more, something that's just on the tip of her tongue but won't come out.

That's when you realize that you're still holding her arm, your bodies so close that you can feel her heartbeat. A flush of embarrassment washes over you as you become aware of the intimate proximity. Wanda clears her throat, a delicate, almost shy sound, and you immediately let go of her arm.

The silence that follows your sudden step back is heavy and awkward. You can't help but glance at the spot where your hand had been moments ago, still feeling the ghostly sensation of her arm beneath your fingers.

You look at Wanda, and she's looking back at you, her eyes wide and filled with something you can't quite name. 

And then, without warning, Wanda starts to laugh.

It's a soft, bubbling sound at first, almost as if she's surprised by it herself. Her laughter grows, becoming louder and more contagious, and you can't help but stare at her, your mouth agape, wondering if she's lost her mind.

“What's so funny?” you finally manage to ask.

Wanda wipes a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “I was just thinking,” she says, her nose scrunching, something you haven’t seen on her and you find it quite… adorable. “You're like a shield now. As effective as Steve's vibranium one, maybe even more so.”

The absurdity of the statement causes you to finally join in her laugh, and your heart seems to flutter at the sound of Wanda's glee.

“I don't know about that,” you say, trying to sound modest but unable to keep the smile off your face. “Steve's shield has a bit more style.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Wanda teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “There's something quite stylish about being bulletproof. And practical too.”

Was that a compliment?

You shake your head, still smiling, your previous awkwardness forgotten. You're not only pleased at the first light banter you've shared with a teammate but also smiling at something else, something that stirs deep inside you and that you're not quite ready to confront.

Your crush on Wanda Maximoff.

-

The toll of the day's event is weighing down on you and Wanda, but like every mission, you're required to report the details of the mission–successful or not. Your muscles are sore, your mind is weary, but the mission was a success, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Arriving back at the Avengers compound, you follow Wanda into the debriefing room where Steve is waiting. Wanda explains what happened, how you discovered your newfound ability, and saved her life. Her voice is filled with respect and something more, something warmer, as she recounts your bravery.

Steve's face lights up with pride. “You both did well today. I'm proud of how you handled yourselves out there.”

You exchange a glance with Wanda, waiting for something more, perhaps some acknowledgment of your change in status within the team, or even an upgrade to your sleeping quarters. But instead, Steve simply nods, his face turning serious. “Dismissed.”

Wanda's face falls, and you feel a sharp pang of disappointment. You start to retreat towards your cell, the cold, windowless room that's been your home for months, but Wanda's voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait a minute, Steve,” she protests. “After all that's happened, after all Y/N has done for us, don't you think it's time for a change? A real room, perhaps?”

Steve looks between you and Wanda. You hold your breath, hoping for a reprieve from the isolation you've been feeling.

Finally, Steve sighs, his face softening. “Wanda, if it were up to me, Y/N would have their own room already. But it's not that simple,” he explains, his voice strained. “I still need to place an official request with Tony. He's the one who approves these things.”

You can hear the frustration in Steve's voice, and you realize that he's fighting for you, in his own way.

“Fine,” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “But this needs to be done quickly, Steve. It's not right.”

“I agree. I'll talk to Tony first thing tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave and retreat back to your cell, Wanda's hand on your arm stops you, and you look back at her, surprised by the action.

“Come with me,” she says. Without another word, she leads you towards her quarters. 

Your heart quickens at her words, and you follow her, trying to process what's happening. 

Is she really inviting you to stay in her room?

Once inside her quarters, the reality of the situation sinks in, and a nervous tension takes hold. Her room is filled with personal touches–little trinkets, photographs, her clothes all over the place–that provide glimpses into a life you've only seen from a distance. You feel like an intruder, momentarily paralyzed as you take in the intimacy of her space.

Wanda seems to pick up on your hesitation, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. A smirk plays on her lips as she teases, “Don't look so terrified. I won't bite.”

You chuckle at her remark. “Well, that's a relief.”

Wanda's eyes sparkle with amusement, and she moves further into the room, gesturing for you to follow. “Make yourself at home,” she says. She then goes to the closet and begins to pull out a spare pillow and blanket. “You'll be staying here with me until we sort out a room for you,” she says.

“Thanks, Wanda,” you say softly.

Without further comment, you move to make your bed on the floor, your movements deliberate and slow as you try to give her space and respect her privacy.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks, her eyes widening as she realizes your intention.

“I'm just getting ready to sleep,” you explain, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I'm quite tired.”

“No, what are you doing on the floor?” she clarifies, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “You're sharing the bed with me.”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” you say, though the offer is tempting.

“You're not imposing,” Wanda assures you, her eyes sincere. “You've earned a proper bed, and I trust you.”

The word 'trust' hits you like a wave, and you feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes. 

Blinking them back, your voice cracks a little as you reply, “Thank you, Wanda. That means more to me than you know.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda whispers, turning on her side to face you.

“Good night, Wanda,” you say, just as softly.

You both settle on the bed, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda uses her powers to switch off the light.

The softness of Wanda's bed is worlds away from the harsh, unforgiving mattress in your cell. You find yourself sinking into the plush comfort, every muscle in your body releasing the tension from the dangerous mission earlier. The scent of Wanda on the pillows only adds to the incomparable comfort they provide. The difference is staggering, and it contributes to you falling asleep much more quickly than you have in a long time.

In the middle of the night, you're stirred awake by the feeling of Wanda rolling closer to you. Her arm finds its way over your stomach, and her soft snores fill the room. Being ever alert, the small action wakes you, but as soon as you realize it's just Wanda, a smile forms on your face.

You lie there for a moment, taking in the warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand. A soft blush creeps up your cheeks as you place your hand over hers to keep it there.

You've become more than just teammates.

You've become friends.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #fic request

[ichorai]

airbag ; steve rogers.

track one of OK COMPUTER.

pairing ; steve rogers x reader (gender-neutral)

synopsis ; five time steve tries to propose to you, and one time he actually does.

words ; 4.3k

themes ; fluff, mild angst, kind of avengers tower au?

warnings / includes ; mentions/descriptions of injury, alcohol, lots of lovesick fluff, rest of avengers are mentioned, natasha and tony Meddling, reference to spider-man & sandman :)

main masterlist.

Steve considered himself a romantic of sorts. Call him old-fashioned, but he liked bringing you flowers, he liked taking you to the theater, and he liked walking you home—all the way up to your door and listening for the lock, so he knew you’d be safe in there. 

It was only fitting how cliché it felt when he realized he was in love with you. Firework-igniting kisses and butterfly-filled tummies and face-splitting grins. Everything described in those movies you enjoyed watching—but so much more.

Steve Rogers wasn’t a man to waste time. After all—enough of that had been done while he was frozen in the ice. If he was going to start something, then he was most definitely going to go all the way and finish it, too. 

Almost immediately after your first anniversary, he bought a ring. It was simple and classic, maybe a bit out of style but hey, you seemed to be into that. You were dating a century-year-old. 

It was December then, soft snow lining the streets and piling upon naked tree branches. During the drive to the fancy restaurant he’d found (courtesy of Tony), there were children building snowmen and sledding down shallow hills. You smiled watching them, eyes rife with fond warmth, and Steve knew then that he had to do it. He had to propose to you tonight. 

Inside, you wouldn’t stop telling him how underdressed you felt, but Steve reassured you by saying a simple, “You look perfect, I promise.”

And he wasn’t lying. You did look perfect to him.

Dinner consisted of several decadent courses, with the waiters serving platters the two of you could barely even pronounce. It was delicious, nonetheless, and the chef had even come by to shake the hand of the Captain America.

During the last course—a silken slice of chocolate cake for dessert—Steve slipped his hand into his suit’s pocket, the velvet box smooth beneath his fingers. He replayed the question over and over again in his head, rehearsed a million times prior to the dinner.

Will you marry me?

And just as he was about to pull the ring box out, another diner pushed his chair back just far enough to accidentally knock into a waiter passing by, holding a plate of spaghetti. Completely sauced, to top.

To Steve’s horror, the plate tipped, almost in slow motion, and fell with a wet, splattering noise all over your outfit. You’d let out a small yelp of surprise, the spaghetti was hot, but not enough to burn. Steve stood up a second too late, hand falling away from his pocket as he rounded the table and placed it on your shoulder, asking if you were okay. 

“I’m okay,” you told him gently, reaching over to grab a few napkins at the center of your table.

You didn’t get mad, of course you didn’t—it was part of the reason Steve loved you so much—instead, you were kind and patient, reassuring the flustered waiter that it was alright. “Mistakes happen,” you said. Another waiter came by a few minutes later with a few damp cloths so you could wipe the rest of the spaghetti sauce off.

Needless to say, the chef insisted that the meal was on the house that night, much to Steve’s chagrin.

The drive back home smelled of marinara sauce and oregano, but the heavy weight in his chest at the failed proposal seemed to lighten when you joked about how the five course meal ended up being six.

Natasha knew about the ring. Steve wasn’t quite sure how—he’d never explicitly told her—but then again, he wasn’t surprised. Nat seemed to always just know things from the smallest of details. It was why she made such a brilliant spy.

“So,” she’d said once she stumbled across from Steve in the Avenger Tower’s lavish gym, a sly grin stretching over her lips, “when are you popping the question?”

There was a pause to his movements—the dumbbell he’d been curling hovered in the air, his muscles tensing. He thought about it for a little longer, considering asking her how she knew but—he seemed to sense that Natasha would wave it away with a laugh and a light, “A magician never reveals her secrets.”

Instead, he told the red-head, “I’m working on it.” 

Natasha leaned against a treadmill, arms crossing over her chest. The smile on her face seemed to grow even wider. “Uh-huh. How long have you had the ring?”

Steve resumed doing his reps. The burn felt nice, even if it was only barely there. “Long enough.”

There was a soft tenderness to Natasha’s eyes, and she bumped a fist into his bicep. “Take Y/N hiking. Far away from the city, where it’s quiet.”

Again, Steve paused his exercise. Slow, he put the weights down, thinking over her words. 

“That’s actually—that’s a good idea, Nat.”

“Of course it is.” There was a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Thanks, really. I just want things to be perfect.”

She dipped her head once, before climbing onto the treadmill. “Send pictures. I’ve got a bet going on—Clint would want proof.”

Steve spared her an amused roll of his eyes. With a wave and a hurried goodbye, Steve rushed out of the gym to take a quick shower. The weather app on his phone (that he took an embarrassingly long time to find) told him the skies were going to be clear that afternoon—perfect for hiking.

Maybe, hopefully, perfect for proposals.

Half an hour later, you were ready to go, too, bouncing on the balls of your feet excitedly.

“I packed us sandwiches.”

“Did you? Oh, great—thanks, honey. We could have them as an early dinner.” He rubbed your shoulder and nudged you into the car. 

“I packed a bunch of snacks, too.”

Steve arched a brow. “Like?”

“Gummy worms, popcorn, chips, cookies. Oh, and Wanda actually made something for us, I’m not really sure what it is, but it smelled nice—”

Your words died away when Steve laughed, loud and chesty. Of course you’d pack just about the entire pantry. How you managed to stuff all of that into your travel backpack with room to spare was beyond him. You couldn’t help but break out into an infectious smile when he leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead. 

The drive out of the city to the hiking trail was long, and you nearly dozed off if not for the road getting progressively bumpier the closer you got. 

The sun was high in the sky by the time you arrived. You slipped out of the car with a pleased hum and stretched out your limbs, ready to get the hike over and done with. You might’ve been dating a superhuman, but you had no powers of your own. The pressure to keep up was something always in the back of your mind.

And that’s how the hike went—you were determined to stay on par with Steve, no matter how grueling the terrain became. Even when he suggested a break to have some of the many snacks you’d packed, you tossed him your bag and kept trekking on—you were worried that if you stopped, you would never get back up again. 

Really, you shouldn’t have overexerted yourself this quickly—the two of you were barely halfway done with the trail. Your feet were starting to drag, and your pace grew staggered. Just as you turned around to face your boyfriend and ask for a breather, your foot caught on a tree root that poked up above the trail’s surface, and you stumbled forward. 

Thankfully, Steve’s quick reflexes came in handy, and he darted forward to grab you before you could go rolling down the steep hills. 

He tugged you close into his chest, not yet registering your wince of pain. “Are you okay? That was a close one!”

When you pulled away, you gingerly tried to test your wait on the foot, but quickly lifted it back up with a grimace. “Oh, God. I think I’ve rolled my ankle.”

Steve stiffened, glancing further up the trail. It was maybe another two hours, but that was only with two fully-functioning pairs of legs. 

The proposal would have to wait another day, then.

He cupped your face, soft and gentle. “Wrap your arms around my neck from behind. I’ll carry you down to the car.”

“You sure, Stevie? I can try hopping down on one foot.” You tried to demonstrate, but nearly lost your balance again. All the jostling sent bolts of pain down your foot, which surely wasn’t a good sign, either.

He snorted, huff-laughing, other hand slipping over your waist to keep you still. “I’m sure. Come on.” He leaned down expectantly.

Relenting, you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and hooked the inside of your thighs over his waist, careful to keep your injured foot extended so it wouldn’t bump into him. It was beginning to throb.

“‘M sorry,” you mumbled, resting your cheek over his shoulder, one of your hands lifting to toy with his short, blonde hair. He began to walk down, and you tried your best to ignore the pain in your ankle. “Ruined our hiking trip. I was so excited.”

“It’s okay, honey. It was an accident! We can always go another time. Maybe a different trail, though.”

You apologized again, the whole way down, in fact, despite his assurances that he wasn’t at all tired. He really wasn’t—barely broke a sweat during the descent. Besides, he quite liked the feeling of your holding so tight onto him, your nose pressed into the side of his neck, your soft laughter brushing over his skin in one moment, your slight winces in the next. 

“I love you,” you whispered, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

He felt a shiver traverse down his back, and briefly wondered if you felt it, too.

“I love you, too. That tickles, though.”

Your laugh was abrupt and ever so heart-warming. “Sorry.”

The movie, you’d told him, was a cult classic from the seventies. Steve couldn’t really remember what it was called. Callie? Cassie? It was an awful lot of blood. The arm he had wound over your shoulder squeezed you every time someone screamed in the film—which was… startlingly often. 

Proposing in the middle of a gorey movie wasn’t exactly the romantic vision Steve had in mind, but since the previous attempts really didn’t work in his favor, he wondered if keeping it casual was the best way to go. So when you asked if he could come over for an abrupt movie night, he readily agreed—and brought the small, velvet ring box with him.

It was tucked safely in the pocket of his slacks, on the side you weren’t pressed up against. The weight was a constant reminder of what he wanted to ask you—occupying his mind away from the movie he should’ve been paying attention to.

He’d propose once the credits started rolling. Yes, that’d be best, right? Wouldn’t want a horrified scream interrupting his profession of undying love to you.

And so he watched. He watched and watched, absentmindedly wondering what on earth the movie was even about. He dragged his knuckles up and down your arm. When a particularly gruesome scene unfolded, Steve glanced over at you. 

To his surprise, your features were softened with sleep, only barely illuminated by the crimson glow from the television, your lips slightly parted and eyes shut. 

With gentle movements, Steve reached over to guide your head onto his shoulder. Your hair tickled his cheek, and he let out a soft puff of a sigh before smiling. He kissed your temple, nose resting over your forehead. 

The proposal would have to wait another day.

Tony’s parties were always an affair that Steve looked forward to. He wasn’t a party-goer by any means, but he found that the grand events were a great way for him to catch up with all his colleagues, acquaintances, and work associates he otherwise wouldn’t have spoken to for months to come. 

And, of course, your excitement always seemed to rub off on him. You were buzzing about the room with what looked like twenty different outfits hanging off of your arms, holding them between you and the mirror with a scrutinizing look.

“Tucked or untucked?” you asked, more to yourself than him. He wasn’t given the chance to respond, anyway, since you chucked the shirt somewhere behind you and promptly started looking for another.

When you’d finally settled for appropriately formal attire, and Steve slipped into a button-up dress shirt (which was his one and only option, much to your envy), the two of you set off for Tony’s.

The party was already in full swing by the time you got there. Steve wasn’t entirely sure what the event was for—an anniversary or birthday, maybe? Fundraising gala? A celebration of some sort of scientific breakthrough Steve couldn’t even begin to comprehend? It was always a toss-up with Tony.

You were greeting people here and there, stopping to chatter amicably about what you’ve been up to, how work was going, the latest shows you’ve been catching up with…

And then you kissed his cheek and told him you were going to go grab some drinks. Steve watched you go with fond eyes. You looked incredible tonight. 

A hand on his shoulder jolted him out of his reverie, and Tony Stark’s smug face came into view. 

“Enjoying the party?” he asked, sly and knowing. What did he know?

“Hey, Tony. We only just got here. What’s all this for, by the way?” Steve crossed his arms and glanced around for any telltale signs.

A smirk flitted across his expression. “Just thought we all needed a bit of social activity pumped into the team. It’s a great place to… get your courage up, hm?” Tony smiled, and Steve narrowed his eyes.

“Did Natasha tell you?”

Tony snorted. “We all know.”

“Great.” Steve slid his hand into his pocket and traced the smooth grooves of the ring box. “Is everyone expecting me to propose tonight?”

“No, pfft—we don’t want to pressure you or anything…” Tony pointedly glanced at a stage conveniently placed front and center of the room. “But if you need some, what should I call it… assistance, the stage is all yours to use.”

Steve balked. Proposing at a party was one thing, but proposing on a stage in front of hundreds of people was completely out of the question. 

Or was it? 

“I’m not going to propose on a stage. That’s more your style.”

With a shrug, Tony rolled his eyes. “I mean, Pepper hasn’t left me yet, has she?”

Steve chose not to grace him with a response, but frown-smiled when Tony grabbed a flute of champagne and shoved it into his hands. He was gone the next second, off to greet a new round of guests. 

Thirty seconds later, you appeared by his side, positively beaming, but slightly out of breath. There were two chilled glasses clutched in your hands, almost sloshing over with how quickly you bounded to him.

“Oh, you already got a drink?” you asked, grinning. You clinked both glasses against his, chiming, “Cheers!”

And as you were downing the sugary alcohol in your right hand, Steve ran a finger along the ring box again. 

Maybe… maybe it really wasn’t a bad idea. He looked back at the stage. There was a microphone stand on there. Has it been there since the beginning?

He turned his head back to you, and you told him about Banner inviting the two of you over for dinner some time. Just as he was about to reply, his phone started buzzing in his other pocket. Deftly, Steve slipped his hand away from the box and went to pick up the phone—Sam’s caller ID staring up at him.

His friend’s voice sounded strained through the phone, and Steve gripped your hand and led you to a more quiet hallway, away from the crowd and the thrum of music. 

Sam hurriedly told him that there was trouble downtown—something about Spider-Man and a very sandy guy. 

“Sandy?” 

“Yeah. Dude’s made of sand.”

“Oh.” Steve paused, brows furrowing. “I’ll be there in twenty. Can you keep it together till then?”

“Don’t have another choice, do I, Cap?” 

With that, Sam hung up. Steve looked to you, crestfallen.

“Honey, I gotta go.” 

Your voice was light and airy, despite your slightly crestfallen and confused countenance. “Sam’s in trouble?”

“Yeah. I’ll—” There was an uncertain pause. Steve leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I’ll see you at home. I love you.”

Your brows pulled together. “I love you, too. Stay safe, Steve.”

It was something you just had to accustom yourself to—when your boyfriend was a superhero, his priorities encompassed far more than you. But you understood, as you always did, and let him hurry away with a stiff lip. 

The hospital was packed. Claustrophobically dense. You hurriedly wove through the crowd of anxious people hovering around the information desk, having already gotten the text which room Steve was in.

A few twisting hallways later, you pushed through a door and just about collapsed with relief when your eyes landed on Steve. 

He was badly bruised. Hues of deep purple and faint blues were blossomed all over his face. One of his eyes was swollen, his sandy-blonde hair was tousled, and his bottom lip was split. He was wearing a hospital gown, and you felt nauseated wondering just what other injuries he was hiding beneath the fabric. 

But he was alive. That was the least you’d hoped for.

Tears pricked your eyes, and you only then registered that Bucky was there, standing by the bed, expression grim and steeled. His blue eyes darted away from his best friend’s face to meet yours.

“I’ll give you two some space,” he murmured with a tight edge to his voice. Bucky patted your shoulder and whisked off before you could say anything. 

“Steve?” you croaked, drawing nearer to the bed. Your throat felt tight. “Oh, God…”

Despite his entire face aching, Steve managed to tug one of the corners of his lips up into a meager smile. “Hey, honey.”

His voice sounded hoarse and overused, but was still utter music to your ears. You just about collapsed onto the side of the bed, reaching out to gently brush the back of your shaking knuckles over what little of his face wasn’t bruised.

“I heard what happened on the news,” came your tearful whisper. “I was so worried you…”

Something softened within the blue of his eyes. “I’m still here.”

You dipped forward to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and his tired eyes slid shut. 

“Has a doctor checked on you yet? Any permanent damage I have to look out for?” You pulled away so you could roam your eyes over his form once more.

“Just a few bruises. Bone fractures. Nothing I can’t recover from,” he replied, though he winced when he tried to shift and sit more upright. You placed a hand on his back and helped him move, cautiously slow.

“Take it easy, old man,” you warned. “Don’t want you to pop a hip.”

Steve wheezed out what seemed like a laugh. Then, his eyes darted to the bedside table, where some spare clothes were neatly packed in a bag. Bucky had brought them, making sure to hide the ring box safely underneath a few layers.

Should he? Now, when he had the chance?

“I have something to ask you…” he began, tentative, dragging his eyes back onto you. You tilted your head pointedly, beckoning for him to go on. 

Just as he was about to say the words, there were three rapid knocks to the hospital room’s doors and they creaked open immediately after, two nurses shuffling in, clipboards in hand.

“Hello, just here to run a few more check-ups!” one of them chirped. “It’s not often we get a super admitted in here.”

Steve just about physically deflated. Your brows kinked, and you patted his cheek fondly.

“I’ll come by later—gonna go see if Sam is okay. You should rest, Stevie. Love you.” With one final kiss to his cheek, you got up from his bed and made space for the bustling nurses. He barely managed to lift his hand to wave you goodbye before you hurried out of the room, back into the packed hallways.

A month had drifted by since he wound up in the hospital (and discharged the very next day). It was pleasantly breezy that day—gusts of wind tousling his now-overgrown hair and whistling sweetly in your ears. 

Steve bent at the waist to place the bouquet of flowers down in front of the headstone. If it were any windier, he was sure it would’ve blown away. But it stayed put, the petals only barely swaying to and fro, and he righted himself back up.

“Sarah Rogers,” you whispered, eyes trailing across the smooth grooves of her name indented into the slab, voice thick with fondness. “What did she look like?”

Your arm wounded over the small of his waist. The two of you had visited the cemetery a few months prior, where you helped him scrub all the moss and dirt from her headstone. He told you about many of his adventures with Bucky before his time frozen in the ice, but very little about his mother. 

A wistful smile touched the corner of his face. Now fully healed, much to your relief. 

“She was blonde. Blue eyes. Crow lines, I think. Really faint, but they appeared every time she laughed.” There was a nostalgic warmth to his tone. 

“Took after her, then.” You beamed down at the grave. “She must’ve been beautiful.”

Steve leaned into your grasp and kissed the very top of your head. “She was. She would’ve loved you, you know.”

“Yeah?”

“She would’ve thought you were perfect. She saw a lot of terrible things in her lifetime, but you—you would’ve made her laugh a lot.” A pause. The wind hummed a disjointed tune. “She always believed in me, even though she was terrified for me all the time. Worried herself sick. If only she knew I’d end up here…”

Your head landed on his bicep. “She knows. She knew from the very beginning.”

The blonde smiled at you again, and you couldn’t help but notice his crow lines, too. It was comforting to know that there was so much of his mother in him.

“You ready for lunch?”

“I’m starving.” you told him, before blowing a chaste kiss to the headstone. “See you soon, Mrs. Rogers.”

Steve began to lead you away, and he couldn’t seem to scratch the smile from his lips. The two of you started walking back home, taking your sweet time. You were saying something—something about a nice lasagna you had frozen in the fridge—

But Steve could barely hear any of it. He couldn’t hold it back anymore. He had to tell you now.

“I love you,” he interrupted. The words died on your tongue and you regarded him curiously, as if he’d grown a second head. 

Apparently, there was a near manic look to his eye that prompted you to worriedly query, “Is something wrong, Steve—?”

Instead of answering, Steve stopped walking. He dropped down onto one knee, brandishing the ring box from his pocket, flicking it open. The realization broke across your features just a second later. Your eyes widened, and you reared back in shock.

And the words—the words just came tumbling out. Not at all what he’d scripted for months on end, but something entirely different. Something raw and unfiltered—purely from his heart. “I love you, more than I can ever put into words. You’re just—amazing, perfect in every goddamn way. I don’t want to go another day without calling you mine. I want to be yours, honey. All of me, every single bit of me, with all of you. It’s been an honor being your boyfriend. Really, it has, but I’m… I’m ready to be your husband, if you’ll have me. Will you marry me?”

There were tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You were only but a streak of color before you were yanking him forward, practically burying his face against your chest. He didn’t care that there was a rock digging into his knee. Barely even felt it. 

The next moment, you were pulling away to yank him back up, kissing him like he was the very air you needed to breathe. 

“Is that a yes?” he asked against your lips, slightly muffled. He was smiling, because he already knew your answer.

You nodded into the kiss, refusing to pull away. “I’d marry you a million times over, Steve. Again and again and again, until you get sick of me.”

“Could never get sick of you,” he whispered, forehead leaning over yours. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

The two of you broke apart minutes later, reluctantly, though you had permanent smiles etched across your faces the entire way back home. The ring fit you perfectly.

When the news broke to the rest of the Avengers, they all erupted into an array of groans and cheers, and multiple wads of cash were passed around. Natasha sent the two of you a pleased wink. You two just landed her a combined total of a hundred bucks, but some secrets were simply better left unsaid.

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfic #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers drabbles #steve rogers ff #steve rogers x you

[nicoline1998enilocin]

The beginning of the end...?

Pairing ⇒ Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader x Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes

Word count ⇒ 5.6K

Summary ⇒ Steve and Bucky are planning on proposing, but as they're doing this, they don't realize the two of them are giving you the feeling you're not worthy of them. As soon as they find out, their behavior completely changes, and before you know it, you have two super soldiers down on their knees, asking you to marry them.

Rating ⇒ Explicit (E)

Warnings ⇒ Polyamorous relationship, use of nicknames (Princess, Printsessa),

Angst ⇒ Hurt/comfort, references to anxiety and insecurity.

Smut ⇒ MMF threesome, D/S undertones, sensory play/deprivation (blindfold), discussion of safewords, size kink, dirty talk, oral (F receiving), nipple play, fingering (anal/vaginal), double penetration, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, implied aftercare

Request ⇒ Anon I don’t know if you write this but could you maybe write a story about bucky x Steve x y/n or reader what you prefer. That they are in a relationship but reader feels left out because Steve and bucky go way back together so she thinks they wanne break up while the boys are planning to propose. So reader distance herself more and more while the boys have no clue. In the end they propose to her but I want a good angsty/ fluff story

A/n -> Thank you so much for this beautiful request, sweet Nonnie! I want to thank @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me develop the title, and I want to say thank you to @late-to-the-party-81 for helping me whilst writing this, as well as for your feedback while proofreading. You helped me bring this fic to the next level, and I deeply appreciate it! ❤️

A/n 2.0 ⇒ My requests are open again! Please consider that I only have 24 hours in my day, so it might take a while to get the new requests posted, but I expect to post them around February/March. I'll be looking forward to what you will all come up with, and I can't wait to start writing requests again ❤️

Events Masterlist ⇒ @buckybarnesevents ⇒ BaBB061: December ⇒ Sensory Play/ Deprivation Masterlist ⇒ @stuckybingo ⇒ Kink: Size kink Masterlist ⇒ @lgbtqbingo ⇒ Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers Masterlist ⇒ @marvel-smash-bingo ⇒ ''I love to see you lying there like that.''

Banners: @vase-of-lilies ⇒ Divider: @firefly-graphics ⇒ Photo: Source

Main Masterlist ⇒ Stucky Masterlist

Something between the three of you has shifted. You don't know how, why, or when, but it has. And with that, your anxiety has gone through the roof as well. Steve and Bucky have been spending more time with each other than with you lately, which is strange since they usually can't keep their hands off of you, or each other for that matter. Even though all three of you still sleep in the same bed at night, it doesn't feel the same and you're starting to feel like a third wheel in your relationship. After all, they've known each other for almost a century.

You're watching a movie with only Steve because Bucky is on an undercover mission and is unreachable for at least a week. However, even though you have chosen the movie, you're not watching it. Your eyes look at the TV, but your brain doesn't register what's happening as you're so lost in your thoughts.

"Is everything okay, Princess?" Steve asks when he notices you've been zoned out for a while.

"Yeah, just tired," you say and fake a yawn, getting up to go to bed despite still being early in the evening. Steve looks at you with worry when you stand, but he leaves it be for now; he figures that if something's wrong, you'll come to him.

"Okay, sleep well, Princess," he says in a soft, defeated voice, and your heart aches at the sound, but you will your legs to walk to the bedroom and curl into the comforter on your bed. Not long after, you feel the mattress dip beside you, and Steve cuddles up to you under the heavy comforter. You let out a small sigh as you feel his muscular chest press against your back. Steve places a few soft kisses on your shoulder before he whispers something to you, under the impression you're asleep.

"I love you, Princess. I'm sorry we have to do it this way, but it'll be for the best," he says. With those words, he lays his head down, and you're fighting against your tears. This confirms it for you. He's just being nice to you now because Bucky's not here, waiting for him to return so they can break up with you together. It'll always be them against the world, and they don't have a place inside that world for you.

To save yourself from most of the pain, you decide to spend more time with others or alone in your room instead of with Steve, and while you notice the sad look on his face, he also doesn’t come to you.

"Princess, can we talk for a minute?" Steve asks as you walk into the kitchen to grab some breakfast. He's leaning against the counter in tight sweatpants and an even tighter shirt. You feel a wave of arousal course through your veins and between your legs, as you look him up and down, admiring his physique. You don’t let it distract you from the matter as you prepare for the talk he’s about to have with you.

"Sure, Steve," you say with a slight smile, hoping it looks sincere.

When you have your breakfast ready, he leads you to your bedroom, where you sit on your couch. He takes his place next to you, almost taking up half the sofa with the broad shoulders you love so much -where you scrape your nails when he's fucking your brains out. But that's not what you're thinking of right now, no. Right now, you're bracing yourself for what's to come; the inevitable is here, you think.

"As you know, Bucky is coming home from the mission tomorrow, and I was thinking of surprising him with a relaxing evening with the three of us. A nice home-cooked dinner, a relaxing bath, maybe even a blanket fort and a movie," he says as he looks at you expectantly.

"I- I think I have plans tomorrow night, sorry," you say, and you look at your food, unable to look Steve in the eye right now because if you do, you're sure he'd see that you're not telling the truth.

"Princess, can you please look at me?" Steve asks in a soft voice, and that's what pushes you over the edge, the tears streaming down your face while you sob uncontrollably. Steve reaches for you and pulls you into his lap, whispering soothing words and kissing you again on your temple.

"It's okay, Princess, I've got you," he says, and you can't help but feel incredibly guilty that he's doing this.

"C'mon, let's get a little more comfortable on the bed," he says as he lifts you up and carries you there before sitting with you in his lap. The two of you stay like that until you calm down and surrender to his warmth, feeling safe in his strong arms.

"I'm sorry…" you croak out, and it's a good thing he has super soldier hearing otherwise, you doubt he would hear you.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Princess," he says as he wipes your tears, and after a little while, you agree to welcome Bucky home tomorrow night, just like you always do when one or both of them come home from a mission.

Bucky is coming home today, and you feel both happy and anxious. What if he doesn't greet you the same way he always does? Or what if he only wants to see Steve? Your mind is going into overdrive the closer he gets to finally being home, but you're trying to keep yourself together, not wanting to breakdown like you did with Steve yesterday. When the Quinjet is on approach, you shoot Steve a quick text to see if he's coming, but he says he's wrapped up in a meeting for a while and that you can go alone, so you do.

As you walk to the hangar, you ball your fists up by your sides to relieve some of the anxiety you're feeling, but all you do is break the skin and leave crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You hope Bucky won't see them. When the Quinjet lands and Bucky walks out, you see him searching for both you and Steve. If he's disappointed only to be greeted by you, he doesn't show it. He runs over to you with a slight jog and a smile on his face before picking you up and hugging you tightly.

"Hi, Printsessa! I can't believe how much I've missed you these past few weeks, and I'm sorry I couldn't contact you sooner," he says as he puts you down and grabs your face softly with his big, calloused hands.

"I love you so much, and I can't wait for our blanket fort tonight," he continues before capturing your lips in a soft kiss, which quickly turns passionate as you let yourself melt into Bucky's touch. When he pulls away, you’re smiling too. You're happy he's home because seeing Bucky somehow makes you forget all your anxieties for just a moment or two.However, as you walk back to the Compound, and Bucky tries to hold your hand, you pull away and he stops dead in his tracks, looking at you with a raised brow. Shit.

"What's going on, Printsessa? Did you hurt your hand or something?" he asks and with a small tear rolling down your face, you unfold the palms of your hands, showing him the damage you've done to them. You don't know how or why, but Bucky seems to catch onto things a lot faster than Steve did, as he immediately figures out it's because they have been spending less time with you lately.

"Is- Is this because of us? Because Steve and I are busier with work lately?" he asks softly. He told Steve this was likely to happen and now that it has he feels worse than ever. With a slight nod, you wordlessly answer his question, and his heart feels like it is shattering as he clutches you to his chest. He holds you as close as he can and repeatedly says the word ‘sorry’.

"I-It's okay," you croak out, still crying into his chest. Suddenly, you feel a powerful, broad chest against your back and one more pair of warm hands rubbing your sides to calm you down. Although you don’t see it, Bucky shoots Steve a look of ’I told you so!’ over your shoulder. They're both feeling sorry, even though this was the only way to organize the extraordinary thing they have planned for you.

"Shall we go inside, and take a bath together, Printsessa? After that, we can build the blanket fort, watch a movie, and cuddle," Bucky offers. You nod into his chest, but you're not letting him go, so he picks you up with no effort and carries you inside.

Bathtime with your two super soldiers is always lovely, especially since you have a custom bathtub  that fits all three of you perfectly. Steve lets the water run and puts some of your favorite scented bubbles in while Bucky undresses you with kisses on each piece of skin that he reveals.

"God, I can't believe I've missed out on this for so long, Printsessa," he says, and you can't help but preen because of his words. As his lips find your pulse point, sucking softly but still hard enough to leave a bruise, you let out a small moan.

His hands are squeezing the flesh of your butt and spreading them at the same time, giving Steve a little show as he undresses you. Both of them are incredibly hard and when you feel both their dicks press against your body, you can't help but throw your head back against Steve's shoulder.

"Please," you beg softly, although you’re unsure what you're actually begging for. Both men decide not to make you wait any longer, so Steve pulls you close to his chest while Bucky sinks to his knees in front of you. At the sight of Bucky ready to worship you, you clench around nothing, and Steve's warm breath by your ear makes goosebumps appear across your neck. His arms are hooked under yours, cupping both your breasts as Bucky lifts your leg, hooking it over his shoulder before diving into your dripping pussy. You moan loudly.

"Look at that, Princess, look at how perfect he looks between these delicious thighs of yours," Steve growls in your ear, and it all only serves to arouse you even further, bringing you closer to your orgasm. His fingers find your pebbled nipples, rolling and tugging them, drawing soft whines from your lips. Bucky has both of your thighs in a grip that's sure to leave bruises, but the slight discomfort only leaves you wanting more. More of him. More of Steve. More of everything.

"God, you're just such an easy little slut for us, aren't you? We get you naked, and suddenly, you're like a lost puppy who doesn't know what to do," Steve drawls with a slight smirk. At the same time, Bucky lets his tongue alternate between dipping into your entrance and stimulating your clit, until you're right on the edge. That's when he pulls away without any warning.

"You didn't think we'd let you cum that easy, did you?" Bucky teases, and you can feel the disappointment washing over you. However, it doesn't last long because Steve's lips find their way onto your neck as his hands wander to your waist before turning you around to face him.

"Don't worry, Princess, we'll make up for it in the bath, but you'll have to trust us, alright? We’ll make you feel like you're flying. We’ll make love to you until all you can think about is Bucky and me giving you more pleasure than you ever thought you could feel," he tells you, his bright blue eyes sparkling at the thought of what's to come. However, just as you think he's about to lead you into the bath, he reaches for something on the counter that you didn't see earlier: a blindfold.

"If you're okay with it, I'm going to blindfold you when we're in the bath. We’ll be constantly with you, and make sure nothing happens that you're not okay with, Princess. We’re going to use the traffic light system for this. Can you explain what it means?" he asks patiently, and you nod in response.

"Green means that I'm good, that you can continue what you're doing, and that I'm enjoying it. Yellow means that I might be getting uncomfortable with something, so we stop and have a check-in to see what we can do differently before continuing. Red means I have reached a limit and that I want to stop with what we're doing. This will end the entire scene for everyone, and we’ll move on to aftercare," you tell him, just like you have done so many times before.

Despite this, Steve and Bucky want you to say it to them, whether you're just with one of them or all three of you are together. They’re always mindful of your well-being, both physical and emotional, and they keep an extra eye out for you during moments like these.

''Good girl,'' Bucky tells you and with that all three of you get into the bath. They let you get used to the warmth of the water and softness of the bubbles first, the blindfold still lying on the small table next to the large tub.You're leaning against Steve's chest with your legs stretched out and Bucky gently massages your feet to relax you. They want all your anxiety gone, your mind eased.

Steve joins in, his skilled hands slowly massaging your thighs and a groan falls from your lips when he finds a rather sensitive spot, making him smirk. After they massage your limbs for another ten to fifteen minutes, the two super soldiers share a look,Steve immediately knowing what Bucky is thinking. Bucky leans forward, happily pulling you into his lap and getting you settled as he peppers your neck and jaw with kisses and love bites.

''Are you ready, Printsessa? Steve is going to blindfold you when you're ready, and we're hoping you can take both of us today at the same time. How do you feel about that?'' Bucky explains to you as he looks at you, happy when he doesn’t find any sign of discomfort on your face.

''I feel good about it, Bucky; I want to feel both of you inside me,'' you reply, and immediately after, you're blindfolded, the world around you entirely dark. You can hear the soft background music that Steve turned on, and you can feel two sets of hands roaming over your body. Bucky's metal hand is a stark contrast to his flesh one, even in the water as they roam over your thighs before slipping between them, finding your clit effortlessly.

You gasp at the feeling of the metal on your sensitive nub, and you arch your back, pressing your bare breasts against his chest; your butt is now presented beautifully for Steve, who has both of his hands kneading the flesh as he enjoys the sight in front of him. Your hole is on display, but before he moves to work you open, he needs to hear your consent first.

''Color?'' he asks, and you reply with an immediate green. He reaches to the side of the tub and retrieves a small bottle of silicone-based lube. He flips the top open with his thumb, and you softly gasp at the click. Steve squirts some onto his fingers, ready to start opening you up. He moves his hand to your rim with a soft hum, massaging it with his fingertips until it is relaxed enough to push the tip of his index finger in, working you open slowly. Bucky moves his hand from your clit to your entrance, pushing in two fingers at once. The pleasure you were already feeling heightens immensely.

''Look at you, Printsessa, you're doing so good for us,'' Bucky tells you as he keeps visually checking in with Steve. They know you can handle it but don't want to overwhelm you, so they're extra careful with you. They're both big and they don't want to hurt you accidentally, so caution is necessary. When Steve manages to slip a second lubed finger into you, you wince, and both men immediately stop everything they're doing.

''Color?'' Steve asks. 

''Yellow,'' you breathe out. You're having to adjust to him being inside you, but the blindfold over your eyes is making everything more intense.

''I-I need to adjust a little, with the blindfold- I'm just a little more nervous than usual,'' you tell them, and they understand. You take a few deep breaths, giving your body time to get used to what your boyfriends are doing. As you relax, you tell them you’re ‘green,’ and they carefully pick up where they left off. More pleasure blooms through your abdomen as Bucky works a third finger into your pussy, and a loud moan escapes from you as your nails dig into his shoulders.

''Fuck! You both feel so good inside of me,'' you tell them with a broad smile, and you even begin to rock yourself back and forth now that the nerves have disappeared and your confidence has increased. While you were still a little on edge at first, you've now found your footing, and you can feel your orgasm building once more.

''Yeah? Just imagine how you feel when we're both buried deep inside of you, Printsessa, both of our cocks splitting you open as you fall apart on them. Thrusting in and out before we fill you up until both of your holes are dripping with our cum,'' Bucky tells you, and you moan at his words, wanting nothing more than to be filled by them.

''Are you going to cum for us, Princess? Are you cumming on our fingers?'' Steve growls behind you, and with a scream of their names you do, your boyfriends working you through your orgasm with expert precision. They praise you endlessly and prepare you for what's to come. When you come down from your high and are ready for what’s next, Bucky slides down into the bath until the water reaches his shoulders.You straddle him, finding the perfect position so that Steve can also slide in.

''How's this, Printsessa? Are you comfortable?'' Bucky asks, your hands resting on his chest for balance. It's not uncomfortable, but the shift requires you to adjust slightly to avoid falling over onto Bucky.

''Perfect,'' you tell him, and he leans up to kiss you softly. As he does, you hear a soft growl coming from Steve behind you. Your ass has lifted slightly, now only just beneath the surface, as he's admiring where he's about to slide into in a few moments.

''I love to see you lying there like that,'' Steve tells you, and you smile into the kiss with Bucky. When you pull away and sit down, you can feel his length between your thighs, now grown to total hardness. Steve reaches into the water to find Bucky's cock and lube it up; they don’t want to hurt you, after all. Bucky lets out a loud moan as Steve strokes his hand up and down a few times before lining Bucky’s cock up with your pussy. The sensation of his tip against your clit makes you moan as well. Your head falls back as you sink down onto Bucky's length, feeling it stretch you inch by inch.

''Color?'' Steve asks as you sink to the hilt, Bucky's tip hitting your sweet spot.It makes you see stars and your nails scratch his chest in an attempt to ground yourself.

''So fucking green,'' you bite out as you start to grind down on Bucky, whose hands are on your hips to guide your movements. With every thrust back in, you can feel Bucky everywhere, and the fact you can't see makes the experience ten times better. Steve is enjoying the sight in front of him as he generously spreads the lube over his cock. He has ensured you’re adequately prepped, but it will still be a stretch, and he wants it to be pleasurable for you both. After a few minutes of slow grinding on Bucky’s cock, you feel Steve's hands stopping you. He lines himself up to your other hole, which welcomes him in with little resistance.

A loud groan leaves Steve's lips as he carefully thrusts into you, keeping a close eye on your reactions as your body gets used to him. Bucky's eyes are trained on your face as well and he gently tucks some of your hair behind your ear. Your chest heaves up and down at the feeling of both men filling you, but the pleasure only intensifies with every passing second. When Steve slides all the way in with a groan, both men still for a moment, letting you adjust again.

''What's your color?'' Bucky asks you. The blindfold is slightly damp from the sweat dripping off your forehead, but you wouldn't change this moment for the world. Your mouth is slack as you get used to the feeling of fullness; being taken like this by your boyfriends isn't something to take lightly, after all.

''Green,'' you tell them eventually, and with that, Steve sets a slow pace that has all three of you moaning loudly as pleasure courses through your bodies. It doesn't take long for you to fall over the edge of another orgasm; your body was already near the edge from the time Bucky had slid in. With a long, broken moan, you work yourself over their cocks, trying to be the one to set the pace even though you barely have the strength to hold yourself up. 

''Let us do the work, Printsessa; you relax. Just enjoy how we make you feel,'' Bucky says, and you nod. You let yourself sink against him, and Steve slides out to change positions, too, so he can be the one to do most of the work right now. He doesn't mind, and as he slides back in with ease, he almost immediately sets a pace that makes both you and Bucky moan loudly.

''Look at you, Princess, your tight holes are welcoming us so beautifully.You look so perfect between us as we fuck you into oblivion,'' Steve says. You’re so small that your body is now completely covered by both men. Steve can feel himself throb inside you, his orgasm nearing fast now and a glance at Bucky lets him know the other man feels the same. It doesn't take long for them to cum inside you, filling you with every last drop of their cum. Once their breathing returns to normal, they carefully pull out, one after the other.

They shift you so that your back is against Steve's chest at the side of the tub, and Bucky kneels in front of you. His long, skilled fingers untie the knot behind your head with ease, and when the blindfold falls away, you look into his eyes, which are filled with love.

''Welcome back, Printsessa,'' he says before kissing your lips gently. 

After your bath, all three of you step out of the tub, and your boyfriends dry you off before seeing to themselves. Bucky picks you up, towel and all, and carries you to the bed for much-needed cuddles. When he puts you down, he dresses you in a pair of panties and one of his henleys. He grabs a pair of sweatpants for himself while Steve gets the blanket fort ready to celebrate another successful mission.

''We're fortunate to have you as our girlfriend, you know that?'' Bucky says, peppering your face with kisses as you sit sideways on his lap, your fingers tracing the intricate patterns on his Vibranium arm. You're about to say something in return, but Steve walks back in, and you can't help but glance at his abs, his sweatpants hanging below them.

''Who's ready for some blanket fort cuddles?'' Steve asks, and you jump off Bucky's lap, racing toward it. They always allow you to go in first so you can find the most comfortable spot, but they follow you quickly, ready to watch a movie and unwind together. Not a single worry plagues your mind, and the anxieties you felt over the last few weeks have all melted away. They didn't want to get rid of you, after all.

"Printsessa?" Bucky says as you're curled up in the big armchair in the living room, your Kindle lying on your lap as you read the latest Stephen King novel. You look up at him with a soft smile, which he returns and then walks your way. He crouches in front of you, his metal hand rubbing your knee soothingly and he looks into your eyes with his beautiful blue ones. A wave of warmth runs through your body as you look back at him.

"I want to treat you to a spa day to thank you for everything you do for us. From keeping us safe during missions to being the best, sweetest, caring, and most beautiful girlfriend we could wish for. We're lucky to call you ours, and you deserve a day to relax and let yourself be taken care of," he tells you.

"A-Are you sure? You don't have to do that," you tell him, your hand going to his cheek, your fingers gliding over the stubble. The caress earns you a soft groan as Bucky’s eyes close, allowing the feeling of your fingers to quiet his mind a little bit. He's still feeling bad about how they made you feel, and even though they're trying to do better, they still have a few more things to organize, which is Bucky's ulterior motive for sending you on the spa day.

"I know, but you deserve it, Printsessa. How about this: You make a girls' day of it with Nat and Wanda, and then we'll go out for dinner afterward. Nothing over the top, but we can make it a date night with you, me, and Steve," he offers. You nod in response. It does sound like a good idea.

"Alright, I'll go ask if they have time for a spa day soon," you tell Bucky before getting up, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, and standing on your tiptoes to reach his mouth for a kiss. As soon as you feel his soft, plush lips on yours, warmth spreads through your veins, and his hands pull you against his body as he deepens the kiss.

His tongue swipes over your upper lip, asking for entrance, which you happily grant before feeling it against yours, moving in unison in a slow, passionate dance. A soft whine escapes your lips as he pulls away, as you don't want this moment to be over yet.

"I think there's someone who would like some attention as well, Printsessa," he whispers in your ear before you see Steve leaning against the doorframe, blocking the way into the living room where you and Bucky are still standing by the armchair, your Kindle long forgotten on the armrest.

You beckon Steve over, and he happily complies. You place your hands on his cheeks, pulling him down to meet you halfway for a kiss in which you're more than happy to take the lead. He follows your motions effortlessly, and when you finally pull away, you have a little difficulty catching your breath as you look into his eyes.

"I love you both so much, but now I'm going to find Nat and Wanda because I have a spa day to plan!" you say before giving each of them a peck on their lips and heading out the living room, on your way to meet your two fellow Avengers. As you turn around to say goodbye, you see that both super soldiers have found their place in the large armchair, having their own moment, and you look at them with adoration, wondering how you got so lucky to have these two super soldiers as your boyfriends.

You're at the nail salon with Natasha and Wanda a week later, deciding what design to put on your nails. Bucky and Steve have told you to get them done however you want, no matter the price, and you decide to go with a set of blue chrome nails. Wanda opts for a red set to match Vision, and Nat goes for sharp, black nails to suit her aesthetic.

When you’re all done, the three of you head to the shops for some clothes.Luckily, you don't have to go far to find the perfect dress to wear to dinner with your boyfriends. In a store window, you see a beautiful black velvet dress that immediately draws your attention, and you decide to go and try it on.

''It fits like a glove!'' you tell both girls as you walk out of the dressing rooms, and their jaws hit the floor as they look at you. You walk out of the store shortly after, not only with the dress but also with a pair of simple black heels to go with it. You're very excited to show Steve and Bucky your new outfit, but they’ll have to wait until just before going to dinner.

''I'm sure you won't make it out of the Compound looking like that. At least you wouldn't if I were your partner,'' Natasha says, giving you a massive boost of confidence. By the time the three of you are heading back to the Avengers Compound, where Bucky and Steve are making the last changes to the proposal, it’s almost 4 pm.

''How're my two favorite super soldiers doing?'' you ask as you walk into the bedroom. They’ve just finished the last necessary arrangements and are sitting on the bed watching an action movie. Steve is between Bucky's legs with Bucky's arms around his waist. His own hands are on Bucky's knees and they melt into each other's embrace. They both look up at you with expressions of adoration as you walk into the bedroom.

''We're doing perfectly now that you're back, Printsessa,'' Bucky says, and Steve nods in agreement. You tell them you're going to get ready for dinner straight away because you want to take your time and make everything perfect. From a dark make-up look to an elegant bun, you pull out all the stops. You finish the outfit with a simple silver necklace, and when it's time to leave for dinner, you meet Steve and Bucky in the living room, where they are waiting for you.

''So, how do I look?'' you ask them as you twirl around, and they practically drool at the sight of you. With a shared look, their plans change; they don't want to wait any longer to ask you to become their wife. They’ll propose to you now, and dinner will be to celebrate getting engaged.

''Princess?'' Steve stretches out his hand, which you take before he pulls you into the living room. Bucky turns on some soft background music on his phone and he fiddles with the ring in his pocket, the other half to the one Steve has in his. They chose matching, stackable rings that fit perfectly together so they could go down on one knee with a ring together.

''Printsessa, Steve, and I are so very fortunate to have you in our lives. We were happy before you met us, but we had never felt this amazing until we met you and you joined our relationship. Our days are brighter because of you, and our missions are less of a burden since we know we will come home to you every single time. Knowing that you're waiting for us is just one more reason for us to fight even harder because we don't want to be away from you any longer than we have to,'' Bucky tells you, and Steve stands beside him.

''I'm going to be honest: both Bucky and myself have done countless stupid things, but asking you to be a part of our lives isn't one of them. I love the traditions we've built together, from the blanket forts after each mission to our weekly dinner dates; we wouldn't change it for the world. We found our soulmate in you, and because of that, we want to ask you something important,'' Steve says.

Both men sink on their knees as you take a small step back, and the small ring boxes open in unison. Disbelief courses through your body at first, but it's true. They are asking you to marry you, and you can't wait for that day to arrive.

''Will you make us the happiest men in the universe and marry us?'' they ask in unison, and a loud laugh escapes you as you nod.

''Yes, of course, I'll marry you guys!'' you say, and they stand up to slide both rings on your finger. They each give you a deep, passionate kiss and then turn to share one with each other. Happiness radiates off all three of you.

''I love you both so much, though if you ever plan anything again, please don't make me feel like you're going to break up with me!'' you told them, and they agree. From here on out, they will do anything to include you whenever possible, and you have never felt more loved in your entire life.

''We love you too, Princess, more than you know,'' Bucky tells you before all three head off to dinner, celebrating the start of the rest of your lives.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers oneshot #captain america #captian america x y/n #captain america x reader #captain america x female reader #captain america angst #captain america fluff #captain america smut #captain america fanfiction #captain america oneshot #stucky #stucky x y/n #stucky x reader

[whereireid]

𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐃

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨

pairing:dark!boss!steve rogers x virgin!fem reader

WORDCOUNT: 5.9k | warnings: dubious consent ! power imbalance (boss!steve, employee!reader) sexual naivety, height difference [6'6 steve, 5'3 reader], oral m receiving, rough p in v, misogyny, sexism, breeding kink, daddy kink, housewife kink, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, praise kink, spanking, captain kink, dumb baby reader (in steve's eyes), nonconsensual pregnancy, reader loves big mean stevie and loves when he taints her <3

PSA: YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. 18+ ! If any of these topics trigger you, please do not indulge in this content! This is a DARK!FIC, and is intended to come across as such. Minors, please dni - this content is 18+ and is under my #WOMNSFW tag.

summary: Steve Rogers is in deep need of a new personal assistant. You, an intern for Stark who often loiters around the Avengers Compound, put yourself forward for the position. You believe working under the Captain America will help you to get in good graces throughout your career. Little do you know, being America’s golden boy’s personal assistant means doing a little more than rummaging through files and writing letters.

—

So pretty, so perfect, so poised. Steve Rogers sits back comfortably in his chair, his eyes trained on you, never leaving, not even to acknowledge the poor waitress who puts his beer down in front of him. You speak proper, each word flowing from your mouth with purpose, your speech coherent, and your voice confident.

It makes Steve’s cock twitch in his trousers as he watches you. Your gaze on him doesn’t linger, but you do flinch when he reaches towards his beer too quickly. It makes his stomach flip, and he tries to hold back the hiss that threatens to slip past his lips. He knows he’s America’s Golden Boy, and that he’s supposed to be better than this; but he was raised in the 1930’s, and his ideals surrounding women never really fizzled out.

Your voice fades back in, and as you address him, it snaps Steve out of his train of thought. “So, I’m sure now that we’re well acquainted with each other, Captain Rogers—“

“Please. Just call me Steve. We’ve known one another long enough.”

He quirks a brow as your cheeks flood over in red, before beckoning you to continue your speech. “Well, then, Steve,” you swallow thickly, your voice dropping a few octaves, and Steve senses that he’s embarrassed you. “Now that we’re well - uh, better - acquainted, I hope that you can consider me for the position of your personal assistant.”

“What?” Steve’s blue eyes bore into yours, and they make you brood in anxiety. You feel childish, sitting in front of him in a flowery dress, at what could somewhat be considered an interview, asking to work for him. Perhaps you should’ve dressed nicer, more work appropriate? Yet, before you can blubber on, Steve continues; “doll, if you wanted to work for me, you could’ve just said. Did you do all of this to ask for the position?”

He blinks at you. Embarrassment washes over you like a tsunami wave as you blink back at him. Of course, you could’ve just said you wanted to work for him - you feel naive ever thinking otherwise. Steve’s not a stranger, you practically work with him every day, and he'd be more than enthusiastic to hear you out. He's not one of. the guys at work who ignore women and everything they have to say. He’s nice enough to always say hello to you and sometimes buy you coffee, and flowers if you were down. He's one of the good ones!“I thought it might’ve been inappropriate to ask you whilst you were training.” You shoot him a small smile, trying to ignore how the upwards tug of his lips makes your skin rise with goosebumps.

“Does Stark know you’re applying for this role?”

"He’s actually the one who suggested it.”

Steve takes a long sip of his drink. He stares at you over the rim of the glass, watching you squirm and ponder over his answer. He already knows the answer to your question, but watching you shuffle in your seat and act silly in front of him makes his cock throb, and he enjoys the feeling. You’re so innocent, pressing against the table, wide-eyed, acting as though your tits aren’t pressed together and basically on display for him. The dress is so low-cut. It makes him want to take you right here.

Did you wear that just to get him riled up? “Well, I can’t think of anybody more suitable to fit the position. You know the Compound, you know my office, and I’ve noticed you get on well with higher authorities. You seem like a doting employee.” He kisses his teeth slightly, looking down at the table, before looking up at you through his lashes. He tries to hold back the smirk on his face as he speaks, but it’s impossible not to: “of course, you will also be expected to work somewhat more flexible hours. Later start times, later finishes. We won't always be in the office at the compound - a lot of my additional work files are at my personal home office, but I can always make you up a key to give you easier access."

“Of course,” you chirp, nodding at him enthusiastically. “I’m okay with longer hours, and I can work around you and what you need.”

Steve grins. “Perfect.”

—

It has been about three weeks since you left your position as an intern at Stark Industries and began working for Steve Rogers. It was an exhausting process at first; the sudden change in routine, the heavy workload, the unsociable hours, and Steve often worried you would change your mind. If you couldn't bend for this position, you would break, and he was incredibly worried you'd do the latter. Perhaps because he hadn’t seen you frown so often before, but during the first fortnight of working as his assistant, your lips were always somewhat tugged downwards, and you were always so busy, unable to even joke with him.

You soldiered on, though. Managing to catch up to months worth of missed calls, avoided emails, old paperwork, and forgotten documents. Steve praised you every time you completed a task, and often he found you beaming up at him, prideful and flustered.

Yet, whilst peeking up from his desktop, he finds himself annoyed. You’re sitting quietly opposite him, noting down things and scheduling appointments, and he can’t help the twitch of his cock as he watches you do it. You're not incredibly busy anymore, and yet you're not engaging in any conversation with him. Steve knows you value professionalism, but he only really let you have this job because of his alternative motives when it comes to you.

His eyes flicker back to the computer screen, and then back to you. It's like before his brain can register what he's doing; he's doing it, but he doesn't mind. This is his office, after all, his space. You're his assistant, and if anything, you're supposed to assist him in doing it. His hands are wrapped around his thick, angry cock, and he pumps slowly, watching you intensely.

You're tapping away at your computer so innocently. Your eyes are wide and interested, and clearly whatever your scheduling for Steve has your entire attention because you don't even look up at him. He strokes his cock carefully, and slowly, and his breathing wavers as he runs a finger over his angry, red tip, using some of his precum for lube.

“You okay, Steve?” your voice fills the quiet room, and he looks over at you, his hands still wrapped around his cock. The naivety of your tone makes his cock twitch in his hands, and his pace slows. He makes eye contact with you, never breaking it as he slowly strokes his hand up and down his length. It makes him so much harder that you have no idea what he's doing, and he imagines what your lips would feel like wrapped around him.

“Fine, doll. Just a little sore.” Steve purses his lips as you nod. He meets your eyes, and you hold his gaze, concern plastering over your face.

You're so... modest. Completely unaware of what he's doing, and he loves it. Steve craves you; craves to taint the innocence which consumes you. You're too trusting for your own good, and one of these days, it's going to get you hurt.

Steve just needs to make sure it's him that hurts you, and nobody else.

“You do look awfully red, Steve.” You murmur across from him, concern painting your features. The heavy gaze your boss has on you makes you feel somewhat uncomfortable, but worry overrides any instinctive emotion. “Do you feel hot?”

Steve grunts in agreement with your question. He looks more disheveled than usual. His posture seems hunched, but he seems somewhat relaxed, and his gaze is hard and trained on you. You're unsure as to what's wrong - he's so red, it looks like he's burning up. Perhaps he has a fever, but you're sure the Super Soldier Serum ensures that he doesn't get ill. “Can I get you anything? Paracetamol? A glass of water?” you ask innocently, standing up from your desk chair, slowly walking towards him.

His computer monitor thankfully covers his crotch. Steve’s eyes don’t leave you, and it makes his cock leak when you softly begin to walk over to him. He’s almost certain you own nothing but inappropriate, seductive clothing; he’s seen more of your cleavage these past three weeks than he has anyone else’s, and it’s driving him crazy. The fact he’s managed to hold off from devouring you is insane, but he isn’t sure how much longer he can take.

Being the nice guy just doesn’t seem to be working. The hand which was stroking his cock stills, and he commands you to stop once you’re mere inches away, stood behind his monitor, so small he can hardly see you. “Do you own any appropriate clothing?”

His question is direct and his tone is reprimanding. Your knees wobble, and your head hangs slightly. Shame spreads throughout your body. “I didn’t realise this was inappropriate. My apologies.”

It’s unlike Steve to bark at you. Usually, he’s incredibly soft-spoken and considerate, yet it seems you’ve worn any patience he’s held for you thin. “Doll, every outfit you’ve worn this week has been low-cut and short.” He breathes, and your neck prickles with discomfort when you notice how dark and blown his pupils are. “I’ve been patient. I’ve been kind. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I don’t think these kinds of… outfits would be appropriate elsewhere. You didn’t wear these outfits when interning for Stark.”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Your subordinate manner only makes his cock twitch more, and he’s thankful his hand is sheathing his cock, because the precum that trickles out of its covers his skin and not his trousers. “I’ll try to be more considerate next time.”

It’s painful to let go of his length, but he has to, and he shoves it back inside of his trousers and innocently buttons them up. “Are you wearing these suggestive outfits to get a rise out of me?”

You gasp. “No. Never. I - Sir, I aim to be as appropriate and considerate as possible. I’m sorry I’ve been misleading you.” Steve rises from his seat, and you swallow thickly, feeling incredibly small compared to your boss. You’ve often been close to him - side by side, brushing shoulders, but he’s always been soft-spoken and gentle, apologetic and genuinely caring. Now, it seems like his patience is worn thin, and as opposed to seeing a civilian Steve, you feel as though you're standing in front of a soldier. “I can go and change now if you want?”

“No.” His tone is so low it matches that of a growl, and you cower weakly as he towers over you. Fear pulsates in your being as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling incredibly unsafe, and your heart races in your chest. Steve would never hurt me, you remind yourself, he’s one of the good ones.

You open your mouth to speak, but Steve shushes you. His finger splays over your lips, and you feel scolded and childlike. “I think you do it for attention.” His finger pushes against you, as does his body, as he stalks forward and you shuffle backward, trying to keep any space between the two of you. “You know, it’s been hard staying silent for this long. Watching you from afar, never knowing what to say or do.” His hot breath fans your ear, and Steve’s nostrils flare. “Trying to be a gentleman. Buying you coffee and flowers and cards when you were working at the Compound as a way to be friendly and nice. But I don’t think you want that.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” You squeak out, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Steve’s fingers gently press against your skin, wiping away any that spill, his skin icy against your own. “I-I’ve appreciated the gifts. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” He asks, his eyes shooting down at you. You nod your head eagerly, staring up at him, trying to ignore how the dark look in his eyes makes your stomach flip. “I don’t think you’re truly sorry. I gave you this job to be my personal assistant. I expected more of you. You’re dressing as whore, and you can’t even apologize correctly.”

You swallow thickly, staring up at him. “‘M sorry. I haven’t meant to present myself that way,” your voice wavers. “What would y-you deem a suitable apology, Steve?”

“Captain.” Steve’s fingers find their way into your hair, and you squeak slightly as he tugs at it. “You only get to call me Steve when you’ve been good, which you haven’t.”

“How should I apologize, Captain?”

Your voice is an incredulous whisper. The subordination you show drives Steve crazy, and it takes everything in him not to force your mouth open and push you onto his cock. No, he needs to coax you into it - make you agree that this is the best way to apologize. Any other way wouldn’t suffice.

It’s as though you can’t believe this is happening - and in a way, Steve can’t, either. He’s always imagined this happening - having you begging him to tell you how to do something in a way that’s deemed fit in his eyes, having you be in pain whilst doing it. He curses slightly, before breathing out, “use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me.”

“What?”

“I said, ‘use that pretty little mouth of yours to worship me’. Don’t expect me to repeat myself again.” He warns, blinking down at you, before muttering, “you’ve dressed like a whore, sweetheart. I think it’s only fair the Captain treats you as such.” His thumb drags down your lips, and you look up at him with such hesitation it makes his balls throb. He feels as though the look on your face could make him cum already.

Warmth floods over your cheeks. It feels wrong as Steve’s palms press heavily on your shoulders, the weight of him coaxing you down. A shudder leaves you as he forces you onto your knees in front of him, and you stare at his trousers, which are tight by the groin. “Captain, I don’t think -“ you swallow thickly, shaking as he comes down to unbutton his trousers, and flinching once his hands clasp yours, “-I don’t think this is appropriate.”

Your voice comes out in a hushed whisper, and he glares down at you, relishing in your embarrassment. Your eyelashes are wet and tears prickle your eyes still, “You’re on your knees now, doll.” He huffs, blowing out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in. Your hands shake as he guides them to his trousers. “You might as well get on with it.”

“No I - I don’t want to.” Your voice wavers as he uses your hands to pry his cock out of his trousers, which is an angry red and seeping with cum, and you feel like scurrying away from it. “I-I haven’t ever done anything like this before.” Steve is stronger than you and the grip he’s got on your wrists makes you feel as though they will snap, so you decide not to, rather cowering away from his length in fear.

“Are you a virgin?” His question makes your head shoot up in embarrassment, your eyes wide and distraught, and he groans. “Oh my god, you’re a fucking virgin.”

“I never said I was,” you mutter, yelping when his hands strike you against the face. Fresh tears fall over old tear stains, and you flinch as his fingers splay over your chin.

He tuts. “Don’t lie to me. Are you a virgin?”

“Yes,” you murmur, shameful, eyes watery as you stare up at him. You sniffle, thankful for his gentle touch, which replaces the cruelty of his hands seconds ago. It makes your heart bloom with warmth as he brushes your face softly with his fingers, although he’s wiping away the pain he’s caused.

“My pretty little baby’s a virgin,” Steve coos, and the tone of his voice makes pressure form in your lower belly. “This mouth has never been around anyone’s cock before? Ever?”

There’s almost a deluded tone in his voice as he presses his tip against your lips. You quiver below him, your eyes trained on him as he pushes himself in your mouth. It feels wrong to do this with him - it feels exploitative, and whilst you opt to pull away from him, the wetness in your panties warns you otherwise. You’re enjoying this, and it’s making you feel terrible. You’re letting your boss take advantage of you and you love it.

You'd be lying if you denied the fact that you found Steve attractive. You had a thing for blonds, and the Golden Boy reputation he had made butterflies form in your belly. The fact he was so unlike what he seems makes your thighs clench and your pussy throb. A Golden Boy with an urge to taint; and somehow, you want to be tainted.

You hum against his cock, and it makes Steve’s stomach explode with heat. The wet of your tongue and the hot of your mouth is everything he’s ever wanted and more, and as your teeth scrape against him, he hisses, trying to hold back the smack he wants to deliver to you. You’re not ready for that yet; you’re a virgin, a sweet girl who needs taking care of. He needs to be gentle with you. “Nuh-uh-uh, doll. Cover those teeth of yours and hollow your cheeks - yes, like that, baby."

Steve breathes heavily as you take it in. It feels intrusive to your mouth as you suck on his cock, your tongue swirling up and down his tip. His hands make their way into your hair, and he gently begins to slide your head up and down, going at a quicker pace. It makes your belly ache with warmth as he does it, the feeling of his hands wrapped in your hair making you feel surprisingly... horny? It makes your face flush when you realize you're enjoying being used by Steve, and you eagerly begin to run your tongue up and down his length, tracing his veins and making sure to pay extra attention to his tip.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts, his balls slapping against your chin uncomfortably, “make your daddy’s cock nice and wet.” Steve’s pace quickens, and more and more of his cock forces its way into your mouth until your eyes are pricking with tears and you’re almost certain his length is going to suffocate you. Gag after gag follows through with each desperate thrust of his hips, and you clasp your hands around his thigh, looking up at him, eager to breathe. He doesn’t let you.

“My perfect little girl. Let daddy cum in your mouth and he’ll forgive you for dressing like such a whore.”

It’s not like you’ve got much of a choice anyway. In Steve's eyes, he's waited long enough to paint you in his cum, and it doesn’t take long for him to finish. He pulls out slightly, spewing cum over your cheeks and lips, grunting with approval at the sight of you. His innocent little personal assistant, who has never felt a man’s cock before today, has just had her throat fucked as though she were a fleshlight. Steve groans, steadying himself by using your head for support, and your nose crinkles as you swallow his cum which had painted your tongue.

It doesn't taste that bad.

“Best you clean yourself up.” Steve murmurs as you clamber up, knees shaking, the heat between your legs throbbing. “I don’t want my personal assistant to look so... defiled whilst she’s working alongside me.”

“Yes, Captain.”

As you attempt to scurry off to the bathroom, Steve stops you. “I want to make a few things clear about your position as my personal assistant, doll.”

You nod your head, uncertain as to what he might say next. The sight of you covered in his cum makes his heart bloom with pride, and he realises that he has finally got you where he wants you to be. “Your role as my personal assistant is to assist me with anything I deem necessary. Whether that be sexual or otherwise. You got that?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Good girl.”

—

Your body has been aching and sore for days. Forcing yourself up from your desk chair, you jolt slightly at the sudden pain which shoots up through your spine. You look away from Steve’s hot gaze, which makes you feel flustered and funny, and you begin to flip through pages in your folder, desperate to keep yourself occupied and not draw too much attention from Steve.

“Come here, doll.” His voice is gentle, his arms wide and open, urging you in.

You nod your head, opting to agree. You've become conditioned to his sexual advances, and he accepts when you're not in the mood, saying that he doesn't want to pressure you. Steve is a good guy in that way; he wants you to move at your own pace. You only have to do this for a few more months or so, as that’s how long your contract is.

Steve taps his lap. You comply, carefully seating yourself atop of him, crinkling your nose when he gets too close. He notices, but he doesn’t care, leaning backward slightly and brushing a curl away from your face.

“What have I done for you to hate me?” his once confident voice is quiet, oozing with rejection.

You blink at him. “I - I don’t hate you.”

Steve hums, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. You shuffle uncomfortably in his lap, looking up at him with big, doe eyes, and it makes his cock twitch. You’re so innocent, so friendly, a big baby that needs protecting from the world. All Steve wants to do is protect you and keep you safe. “You don’t look at me the same anymore,” he notes quietly. “You used to look at me like I was a savior before you started working under me.”

You shuffle uncomfortably, looking up at him through your lashes. He moves slightly to get comfortable, and your breath hitches in your throat when his clothed crotch rubs against yours. “I still think of you as a savior, Stevie,” you murmur quietly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek.

You’ve worked for Steve long enough now to know that the way around difficult conversations is to stroke his ego. His hand snakes around your back, and he traipses his fingers up and down your back slowly. “No bra, huh? What have I told you about dressing appropriately?”

“S-sorry, Steve.”

“Mmm, I forgive you, baby.” His hands fall to your skirt, and his fingers slowly ride up them. The material parts with the moving of his hands, and your body flushes with heat when his finger slides up and down your slits. He tuts. “No underwear, either? This'll be a little harder to forgive.”

You squeak slightly as Steve pushes a finger inside of you. “Y-you asked me not to wear underwear when I'm around you.”

“Nuh-uh-uh. I don’t remember that, doll. Don’t make things up to try and make yourself better off.” Except, he does remember it because he practically commanded you to strip your underwear off the last time you wore some when working alongside him. But you don’t need to remember that. Steve wants you to believe everything you do for him is because you want to do it, not because he’s told you to.

“Really?” you squeak as he curls his finger inside of you, ensuring he hits against your spongy spot. You try to ignore the heaviness of Steve’s gaze, and you swallow dryly, stuttering as Steve slips another digit in, beginning to fuck you faster with a ‘come-forth’ motion.

“Yeah, doll. Maybe you just wanted your daddy to have easier access to this pretty pussy of yours. I know how much you like getting that little pussy touched.”

His fingers slow down inside of you, and he gazes down at you with a raised brow. You protest, trying to roll against his fingers, but he grabs your thighs and shakes his head. “Bad girls don’t get to feel good.”

“I’m not bad," you whine, and Steve shakes his head in response.

“You lied to daddy. Said he wanted you to wear no underwear. You said it like I’ve been forcing you not to wear underwear when it was your decision.”

The sharpness in his tone makes you recoil, and you still your lower half. against him, not wanting to make him anymore angrier than he already is. “I-I’m sorry. It was my decision. I’m sorry for lying.”

Steve sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You know, I’ve been holding back these past weeks. I wanted to break you in.” He pulls his fingers out of you, and you whine in protest, but your sounds are muffled when he shoves them inside of your mouth. You suck instinctively, and he groans against you. “I’ve been wanting to use that pretty pussy of yours for so long, doll. Been wanting to defile you and make you mine.”

Before you can even react, the tip of his cock is pressing against your slits. “I’ve wanted to fuck you and fill you up with my cum for so long now.” His voice is a growl, and you feel frozen in place, beginning to slowly shake your head. “Fuck you full of my babies. And I know you want that, too.” He groans as he presses harsh kisses against your neck, his teeth grazing against your skin.

“No, Steve,” you breathe heavily as he holds you into place, your own body no match for the strength of his. “I- I don’t want that. I'm not ready for a baby."

“But you are. You just don’t know it yet.” His cock pushes into you, and you let out a whimper, struggling against him. Your walls sheathe him, and you let out a pained squeak. "Look at how well you take me, baby. You were made for me. You’re so wet for me. Look at you, trying to deny your rightful place as my subordinate. My pretty little girl.”

He forces his cock into you slowly. Your walls squeeze around him, sheathing his cock so well, and you whimper, squeezing your nails into his shoulders so hard you feel as though you're going to leave behind crescent moons. "No, Steve," you breathe, squeezing your eyes shut, desperately trying to get rid of the burn between your leg. "'t hurts. Stevie, I'm not ready."

"You're ready, baby," he seethes, throwing his head back slightly as he pushes his hips up further. "Your little virgin pussy is hugging my cock so fucking tight."

A mewl escapes you as his cock brushes up against the spongy spot inside of you. Tears prick the corner of your eyes, and mascara begins to brew below your lash line. Steve stares at you, his gaze passionate, wondering how he ever got so lucky. Not only has he got you exactly where he needs you, but he's also ruining you, tainting you for other men.

The only way he can truly ensure other men will leave you alone is to fill that belly of yours with his baby, so that's exactly what he intends to do. "Does that feel good?" he whispers, kissing your cheek softly. "You feel so full, baby?"

"So full, Steve," you whine, trying to adjust yourself to gather more comfort. Your walls rub against his cock as you adjust, and it feels kind of... good, so you do it again. Your hips slowly roll atop of him, and you whimper to yourself, pain mixing with pleasure.

Steve lets you bounce on him. It's a slow pace, and it doesn't hurt, though it feels unnatural to have something this big inside of you. It's not that you're entirely sexually naive - you've masturbated before, but this is completely different. Steve is huge, and with every roll of your hips, you can feel him. There's no room for escape, and your stomach flips as you throw your arms around his neck. "Steve," you breathe, eyes flittering shut as the coil inside of you threatens to break and snap, your toes curled in desperation. It feels as though you're just inches away from experiencing pure ecstasy, but you can't reach it, and it's making you so frustrated, you feel as though you could cry. "H-help me, Steve."

"You want Daddy's help when getting off?" he coos, brushing a curl away from your face. You stare down at him, biting your lip and nodding eagerly, and he groans slightly. So cute, so small, so ready for him. This is how you should be - begging for his help, needing him, relying on him. You're just a woman, after all; you need a big, strong man like Steve to take care of you.

His hips thrust up, and it's incredibly painful at first. Steve's pace is nothing compared to yours - you were being slow and gentle with your body, and he just wants to ruin it. His hips smash into you, his cock sliding in and out, and he peppers harsh kisses against your neck. You mewl against him, pressing up against his chest to feel him, your toes curling in your flats, your eyes dazed, mouth gaping. You look like a picture-perfect image, and Steve grunts as he fucks you, wanting to tip you over the edge.

It doesn't take long until the coil snaps. You murmur and shake against him, your thighs clenched as you cum, squirting all over his cock, drenching his balls and trousers. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," you yell against him, his cock relentlessly fucking you throughout your orgasm.

"I'm gonna fill you with my babies," he growls, "drown your pussy with my fucking cum."

"No," you cry out, unable to move as he thrusts himself into you; again and again and again. You feel so helpless, so small and weak against him, and you stare up at him. His pupils are dark and blown, and his Adam's apple bobs desperately, his nostrils flaring as his cock twitches inside of you. "Please, pull out!"

"I don't think so, baby," he grunts, and with one final thrust of his hips, he finishes inside of you. Your walls squeeze him simultaneously, and he lets out a low, powerful groan, as he coaxes your walls with his cum. "Gotta make you a nice little housewife. Gonna have you popping out all of my babies."

Steve brushes away the tears which slip down your cheeks. He doesn't even realize how hard he's been holding you until he lets go, your arms riddled with handprint marks which he's sure will bruise. "Don't cry, doll," he murmurs, "you knew what came with the job."

"No, I didn't," you sniffle, pressing your head into his neck. It's wrong how his warmth and his smell act as a safety valve for you when he's the reason you're so upset. "I would've never - I would've never gotten into this if I knew what you expected from me."

A gentle sob racks your body, and Steve looks down at you, caressing your face gently. "Baby, stop crying. You're ruining that little face of yours." In honesty, Steve's patience is running thin. He's been good to you; caring, doting, paying you well for an easy job, and this is how you react? You cry into his arms after he tells you he's going to pump you full of his children? He's Captain America, for God's sake. You should be begging for it. "Just - Jesus fucking christ," he huffs as you continue to cry, grabbing your face harshly, and the sudden grip shocks you. "Stop crying. If you're going to speak, at least try and be fucking coherent."

Nodding your head, you wipe your eyes, which are tender and you assume, red. "I'm not ready for this," your voice shakes as you speak, and Steve almost feels a bit sorry at the sight of you. "I- I don't want this."

"Only good girls get what they want," Steve states plainly, staring at your disheveled face. He certainly got what he wanted - you look ruined, and you feel it, too. He imagines his cum is mixed with a bit of your blood; what, with him defiling you and all, he probably broke your hymen as well. The thought makes him grin to himself, and he utters, "I don't think you've been good, so you don't get what you want, baby."

"I'm sorry! I just - this doesn't seem like a fair punishment! I don't want this!" You cry out as Steve delivers a harsh smack to your ass, and you gaze up at him pathetically through your lashes as he tuts.

"I don't care if you think it's fair or not. You've been teasing me ever since you were an intern at Stark Industries, doll. I've been waiting to breed you for that long," his voice vibrates against you, and you shake your head, ashamed that you even thought you could get away with arguing against him. He's the Captain, and he has all of the control. "Anyway, you're just a dumb little baby. You have no idea what you want right now. But I do. I know what's good for you. Don't you trust me, baby?"

#steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x reader #steve x y/n #marvel avengers #the avengers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x female reader #chris evans #dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x y/n #steve drabble #dark steve rogers #captain america #captain america x you #steve rogers series #oneshot #dark chris evans #womnsfw #1k 💕

[wlntrsldler]

marvel masterlist

bucky barnes:

series

DOPPELGÄNGER: Bucky has only been in love once and it was before he was put in ice and way before he became the Winter Soldier. What happens when Bucky meets Y/N, the exact look alike of the girl he used to love? (Social Media AU) (WIP) DISCONTINUED

ROSES: Bucky tells Y/N he’s the Winter Soldier. The next day, he’s taken by the government and that’s the last Y/N sees of him... until they cross paths again. But what if Bucky doesn’t remember her? (COMPLETED)

TO BE SO LONELY: When Bucky and Y/N signed up for this online penpal system, they never expected to grow attached to the other person behind the screen. (COMPLETED)

FALLING: Bucky has been distant lately. Y/N doesn’t know why. (COMPLETED)

THE BREAKUP CHRONICLES: A collection of imagines that can be read independently or as a whole fic about Y/N and Bucky’s relationship post-breakup. DISCONTINUED

one shots

NOT MY TYPE AT ALL: Y/N isn’t Bucky’s type but honestly, he doesn’t care about that anymore. (Not My Type At All by Jacob Whitesides)

SLOW DANCING IN A BURNING ROOM: Y/N knew that Bucky had to leave someday but that didn’t mean that she was ready when the day came. (Slow Dancing In A Burning Room by John Mayer)

CLOSE TO YOU: Requested! Bucky loves Y/N, he didn’t mean to snap at her. (Close To You by Rihanna)

LAST KISS: 1940’s Bucky tells Y/N that he got his orders. (Last Kiss by Taylor Swift)

KISS ME SLOWLY: Bucky keeps running away from Y/N. He doesn’t want to get attached. (Kiss Me Slowly by Parachute)

FALLING LIKE THE STARS: Bucky and Y/N fall in love but he’s sent off to fight the war. (Falling Like the Stars by James Arthur)

HARD PLACE: Bucky and Y/N can’t stop fighting and it’s getting too much. (Hard Place by H.E.R)

F&MU**: Bucky and Y/N hate each other… but they can’t stop letting their anger out through sex. (F&MU by Kehlani) 18+!

MAY I ASK: Y/N and Bucky see each other for the first time since the breakup. Y/N confronts Bucky on why he ended things. (May I Ask by Luke Chiang)

I WILL BE FOUND:  Bucky finally found the place where he belongs when he met Y/N but at times, he wished that he could somehow take the life he used to have and magically fit it into the life he had now. (I Will Be Found by John Mayer)

10 AM: REQUESTED! Bucky is hopelessly in love with Y/N. He stops himself from saying anything to her because he’s afraid of getting hurt again, not knowing how much more he can take in his lifetime. (10AM by Keaton Henson)

FLAWLESS**: Bucky and Y/N are friends with benefits. They found a new thing to play with in the bedroom. The Winter Soldier. (Flawless by The Neighbourhood)

CHERIE: Bucky doesn’t understand why Y/N is always so happy. He never thought he would be one of the people who got entranced by her until he was. (Cherry by Harry Styles)

TEE SHIRT:  Bucky and Y/N walk into a music shop and she hears the song her and her ex used to love playing in the background. (Tee Shirt by Birdy)

I’M LONELY: lex’s writing challenge! enemies to lovers; “Will you wait for me?” (i’m lonely by luz)

LOUD: Every time Y/N is afraid, she plays her music too loudly but this time, Bucky is there to comfort her.

BUBBLES: Short Bucky imagine about bubbles.

DOCTOR ME UP: Y/N is Bucky’s doctor when he wakes up in Wakanda. 

WHITE DRESS: Bucky loves her, so so much, especially as she walks down the aisle in her white dress. 

SHAWARMAS: Bucky has a crush on Y/N, the cashier from the Shawarma place. 

NO CLUE: Y/N and Bucky hate each other. Nobody knows why. Whenever someone asks, the pair just say, “I have my reasons.” Some think that something happened between them when Bucky was in hiding. Some think that Bucky did something to Y/N when he was the Winter Soldier. Some think that there’s no actual reason- they simply hate each other.

RITUALS: You died on a mission and all Bucky has left is the voicemail you left him before you got on the Quinjet. 

FAMILIARITY: Love is a foreign concept to Bucky. 

peter parker:

JEALOUS: Where Peter tells Y/N that he’s Spiderman and things go down. (Jealous by Labrinth)

#bucky barnes #captain america #winter soldier #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagine #frances writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x yn #marvel #marvel imagines #marvel oneshot #peter parker

[vbecker10]

Laundry Day

Loki's POV of events: How Could This Not Fit?!

Bucky's spin-off fic: Loads of Fun (different Y/N character) - in progress

Pairing: Loki x female reader (ofc)

Summary: You and Loki are living together in the Avengers Tower and you've asked him to help you with the laundry. You decide it's the perfect opportunity to prank him but that might not have been a good idea... not if you wanted to sleep tonight that is.

Warnings: ... um nothing really, alluding to sex but not much

A/N: I finished my laundry and was folding (trying desperately to fold) my fitted sheet and I came up with this silly little thing so... enjoy 💚

You take a bottle of water out of the fridge in the common kitchen, laughing to yourself as you shake your head.

"Something funny in the fridge?" Tony asks from the island, looking up from his tablet.

You turn to him and open the bottle. "No, I was just laughing about something that could possibly get me in a lot of trouble with Loki," you barely explain.

"I have no idea what that means," Steve says as he and Bucky join the conversation.

You take a sip of water and set the bottle on the island. "I was tired of being the one who did our laundry all the time so I told Loki he needed to help me with it today," you start to tell them.

"Still not seeing the funny," Tony says sarcastically.

"I'm getting there," you wave away his comment and he chuckles. "So anyway, I told him to help and he did... an okay job of it. I mean, the dryer and him got in a bit of a fight but we finally got it done," you continue.

"Did he break the dryer cause I've gotta do like four loads of laundry tonight?" Bucky asks concerned as he pulls out the stool next to Steve.

"How could you possibly have to do four loads of laundry?" Tony turns towards him. "You own one hoodie and three henleys at most," he adds.

"Can we get back to my problem?" you pull their attention back to yourself. "I might not have much time left," you joke but you aren't actually sure how long until Loki comes looking for you.

"What did you do to him?" Steve asks, sounding concerned for your safety. Loki would never hurt you of course, he loved you too much, but when you annoyed him you always found it hard to walk the next day.

"Well, he put all the laundry away using his magic but I told him that was cheating. He said it wasn't and we went back and forth for a bit until I made him a bet," you smile. Loki could never resist a wager, especially since he always assumed he would win, and he usually did. "I bet him... something," you suddenly realize you don't necessarily want the guys to know the dirty things you promised Loki and they all look away awkwardly for a moment as if they understood that.

"Right, whatever... so the bet was for him to make the bed himself, without his magic," you tell them.

"Look, I still don't like him very much but, give him a little credit. I think he's smart enough to figure it out," Bucky says.

"Yeah, that doesn't really seem like a bet you're going to win, Y/N," Steve agrees.

"Well... I might not have except for one teeny tiny little bitty detail," you assure them.

"Which is?" Tony asks with a mixture of curiosity and agitation that the story is taking so long.

"I switched the sheet set," you say, they all stare at you confused and you sigh. "I gave him a full size set... and we have a queen bed. There's not a chance in hell he's going to be able to get the fitted sheet on and if he does manage it, I'll know he used his magic and still win," you smile broadly, proud of yourself for tricking the trickster God.

"Well that's a dangerous game to play," Steve says and before you can respond you hear Loki coming down the hall.

"Y/N," he says when he enters the kitchen. You swallow as your mouth goes dry, he does not look happy. "You cheated," he says without question.

"No, I was just..." you try to explain but he walks towards you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

"You... cheated," he says slowly as he backs you into the counter by the sink.

"I mean, only a little," you say with a smile but he doesn't smile back. "And I only did it to make sure you didn't use your magic," you quickly try to explain.

"Um, I think we should go... literally anywhere else," Steve says as Loki grips your waist with both hands and keeps you pressed between himself and the counter.

"Don't worry, we're leaving," Loki says with a smirk, still looking only at you. Without warning he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You gasp and the suddenness of it and he uses one arm to hold you in place by the back of your legs as he turns to leave the kitchen. He pauses and picks up your water bottle. "You'll need to keep hydrated, it's going to be a very long night, love," he says as he carries you down the hall towards your room.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @theaudacitytowrite @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @chantsdemarins @foxherder @tonystank8

#hiddlestoners #loki #tom hiddleston characters #loki laufeyson #twhiddleston #hiddlesarmy #loki x reader #loki odinson #hiddlesverse #loki x you #loki x y/n #loki blurb #just trying to do my laundry #loki imagine #loki au #loki x ofc #loki x original female character #loki of asgard #loki fanfic #loki fandom #loki oneshot #loki avengers #steve rogers #bucky barnes #tony stark #captain america #iron man #winter soldier #avengers au #marvel characters

[writing-for-marvel]

At Your Service (2)

Bodyguard!Steve Rogers x Diplomats Daughter!Fem!Reader

< < PART 1

Summary: True to his word, Steve makes up for leaving you high and dry the night before.

Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, semi public sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, panties as a gag, dynamic where Steve is meant to be protecting reader and they catch feelings

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: as the winner of this poll, here is part 2 of my beloved bodyguard!Steve! A big thank you to both @flordeamatista who helped me come up with plot ideas for this second part and to @seitmai who provided the inspiration for me to continue with these two 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

“You need to stop looking at me like that.”

You actually quite enjoy the desire filled gaze Steve hasn’t been able to break away from you all morning, but the introductory speech for your father you’re giving at tonight’s gala is getting the better of your nerves and any conversation with Steve always seems to lift the weight of the world off your chest, even if it’s only for a fleeting moment you get alone together.

Plus, you’ve been looking for an indirect, yet natural way to bring up the relations performed in his hotel room late last night since you were reunited with your bodyguard this morning.

“Like what?” He smiles at you cheekily in the mirror you’re getting ready in front of and your stomach somersaults in response - he knows exactly how he’s staring at you, but he’s baiting you to say it aloud.

“Like you’ve seen me swallow your cum.”

There’s more affection suspended in his baby blues than simply the carnal lust of having watched you perform the explicit act, but you’re not sure you’re ready to admit the implication of that to express the notion out loud.

Steve merely chuckles in his signature hearty way, that’s dangerously contagious and which makes you fight the corners of your mouth from upturning, not wanting to divulge the effect he has on you.

With those long legs of his, Steve takes a couple of slow, meaningful strides and he’s by your side, right where he belongs, eyes still boring into yours, but with him this close you can now see what you can only describe as a soft familiarity in them which you’ve never noticed before.

“But it was such a beautiful sight, how could I possibly think of anything else when I look at you?” He asks, maintaining eye contact through the mirror with a defiant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that makes you want to kiss him.

You want to tell him that attraction is not one sided, that if he hadn't been tasked with your security and wasn't being paid by your father to keep watch over you every minute of the day, you would have made a move on him much sooner. But a nagging disquiet prickles in your stomach and the words die at the back of your throat.

What if sexual attraction is all he feels? What if you’re misinterpreting these soft glances and his he doesn’t reciprocate the desperate yearning carving a hole in your chest you’ve spent the past month trying to convince yourself isn’t the feeling of falling in love with him?

The thought cracks the barricade you’re attempting to build around your heart, crumbling like an old stone castle wall.

To distract yourself from the uneasy pause in conversation, and the intense stare of those ocean blue eyes you have become accustomed to following your every move, but now feel are appraising your reaction, you break eye contact to locate your mothers locket on the vanity in front of you.

You fiddle with the latch under his gaze, unable to steady your hands sufficiently to exert your fine motor skills, which Steve seems to take notice of as he slowly extracts the delicate chain from your hands and fastens the clasp around your neck. His fingers brush the sensitive skin of the nape of your neck causing the small hairs to stand on end and a shiver to run down your spine. You watch in the mirror as he leans down and places a gentle kiss to where your neck curves into your shoulder, a buoyant, burning desire floats in your chest at the velvety feeling of his soft lips.

“Thank you.” You whisper hoarsely, mentally condemning yourself, you swear ‘thank you’ are the only two words you can say to the man who ensures your protection and unknowingly owns your heart.

Thank you for opening the door for me.

Thank you for protecting me with your life.

Thank you for fucking my throat last night.

You both turn to look at each other in the reflection of the mirror and a smile blooms on his face as soon as your eyes meet each others again.

“You’re welcome.” Steve imitates the low volume of your voice. The thought of his full, plump lips pressed on yours, being held by the two arms that have kept you safe for the past few months, as you were for a brief moment last night, distracts you from the sound of someone opening the door to the dressing room without notice.

“Ma’am, they’re ready for you.” One of the event organisers pokes her head in to hurry you along. Within a blink of an eye Steve has returned to his position by the far wall, standing tall, stoic and poised. The heat drawing up your back at his kiss is the only indication he had moments ago been standing so close.

Less than five minutes later you’re walking beside your father into a grand hall, a large crystal chandelier hanging from the centre of a 40 foot ceiling is complemented by stark white walls embellished with gold trim and framed paintings of major historical moments.

An ambassador from a small European country greets you before you have any further chance to look around. As typical, you’re treated like the naive, young daughter who has grown up so much since they’ve seen you last, even though you’re well into your twenties and hold multiple degrees in political science, economics and global studies.

A pawn in your fathers game.

Look pretty. Smile sweetly. And don’t open your mouth to debate politics which contradict policies he’s looking to implement.

You’re as useful as a decoration.

Steve’s job is to live a couple of steps behind you, but it’s too far. You want him close enough that you can feel body heat radiating from him. You want him next to you so you can reach for his hand. Close enough for him to kiss your neck again like he did in the dressing room.

He’s the one person who never fails to make you feel seen, as if you’re just as important, if not more so, than all the other diplomats and embassy officials in the room. But you suppose that’s just him doing his job, and you shouldn’t misconstrue his lust filled gaze and him being paid to keep you safe with valuing you more than for what you did for him in his bedroom last night.

You sense Steve’s broad presence behind you as you make your way onto the stage, hands uncontrollably shaking and chest tightening as you take in the crowded room of people whose attention is now solely focussed on you.

With a cough clearing the lump forming in your throat, and a quick glance to Steve who’s wearing an encouraging smile, you plaster on your best well rehearsed, feigned grin and begin your speech by telling the tale about how when you were five years old, your father would serenade you to sleep every night, no matter how busy he was or what international incident he was dealing with that day.

Your task is to make him appear as the doting father and formidable diplomat, even if it isn’t the truth. By now, you’ve practised this story enough to recite it word for word.

Repeat a lie often enough and it becomes the truth.

Steve offers you his calloused hand as you descend the steps off the stage, as you breathe a sigh of relief your involvement in the evening is over. Goosebumps race up your bare arm at his touch, a reaction Steve seems to take notice of, causing a small grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Your stomach flips at being the reason for that smile, even if only in an accidental way.

The buffet table is your usual choice of post at events such as this, especially at the end of the evening when the decadent desserts are served. Your mother did used to say you had a sweet tooth.

You also always sneak a few servings to Steve too, even though he’s not meant to consume any of the food set out for the guests. Having smuggled enough sweets to him during his service, you know his favourites are the rich chocolate brownies and sour lemon meringues.

However, as all eyes in the room turn to your father as he takes over as speaker, rolling off an opening joke you’ve heard too many times to even consider feigning a laugh to, you instead make your way into the adjoining, wide hallway and bracing yourself against a wall.

No matter how many times you stand in front of an audience of that size, it never fails to make you want to throw up the entire contents of your stomach.

“You did a really great job.” Steve comments as he leans against the same wall you’re resting on. His typically stoic, brooding features soften when he gazes at you, the compliment exchanging the nauseated twisting of your stomach with nervous butterflies. “I couldn’t make a speech in front of that many people.”

The distance between you is agonising, he’s close enough that you can see the patterns in his blue irises, but not close enough to touch. Your fingers itch to feel any contact with him as you had the brief pleasure of as you walked off stage, but you refrain from doing so in public for fear of getting caught.

“Thank you.” Is all your brain can come up with to say when your stomach is fluttering at how soft his gaze is, how he seems to genuinely mean the accolade unlike when your father commends you a job well done.

You’ll have to resign yourself to those being the only two words you’ll ever be able to utter in his presence.

Steve’s eyes dart to the bathroom sign across the hallway, and with a smirk on his face, grabs your hand unexpectedly and pulls you towards it. You don’t even have a moment to savour the feel of his large hand engulfing yours, and how your fingers slot perfectly between his for once you’re inside the bathroom his hands move to cup your face and his lips crash onto yours.

Your mind is dizzy as his tongue sweeps into your mouth, rough hands pushing your dress up to find the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up onto the vanity beside the sink, your back pressed against the firm, smooth mirror.

“You’re so cute when you get all shy on me, even though you were gagging on my cock yesterday.” He mumbles as his lips trail down the column of your throat. “Want to finish what we started last night?” You respond with a shy smile and an enthusiastic nod.

Steve pushes the ends of your dress higher to reveal your black, lacy panties and smirks mischievously as he drops to his knees. The sight alone has you dripping.

He presses slow kisses along the inside of your thigh, starting at your knee and progressing higher each time - repayment for the similar, teasing action you subjected him to the night prior.

A whine falls from your lips as he places his next kiss on your covered pussy, humming at the feel of the soaking wet patch that’s formed from just a few kisses. Pulling your panties to the side, he repeats the action, a gasp leaving your lips as a new flood of wetness drips from your core at the sensation.

Steve’s strong hands force your legs to stay open as he dives in, tongue licking between your folds, lapping up your arousal, the taste of which only spurs him on. He starts out like a man starving, fueled by a complete fixation on needing to taste more of you, something he’s been dreaming about for months.

He alternates between suckling on your clit and finding a rhythm of swirling around your core. Just when his patterns become predictable, he changes his angle or position, finding new nerve endings to stimulate you didn’t even realise existed. When he rotates back to his plump lips suctioning around your clit, he unexpectedly slips a thick finger inside you, watching your face intently for your reaction.

“Fuck, Stevie!” You cry, head pulling back and thudding against the mirror, but you’re not concerned with the dull ache when what Steve is doing between your legs has pleasure shivering up your spine and winding tightly in the pit of your stomach.

“Princess, you need to keep quiet for me. Don’t want anyone out in the hall hearing.” Steve growls, torturously taking pause for a moment to pull your panties off completely. He circles your lips with his arousal coated finger, before allowing you to suck your sweetness off it. He kisses the remaining fluid from your lips, then, with a smirk, instructs you to open wide and improvises a gag by stuffing your panties in your mouth.

As his lips wrap around your clit again, constellations of stars flash behind your eyes, and the coil in your lower stomach winding ever tighter, ready to snap at any second. You can’t prevent the muffled moan resounding from your lips through the lace material of your panties and your fingers from gripping at Steve’s hair in an effort to ground yourself from floating off on a cloud of bliss.

“So sweet.” He hums, breath warm against your centre, the sound vibrating through your entire body. His tongue darts around your folds, learning which are your most sensitive areas, what motions cause you to keen and ensuring to replicate them.

When his fingers begin to trace your opening, gathering your slick, you know you’re teetering on the edge, pussy clenching around nothing, needing to be filled.

Your earth shattering end comes as soon as he thrusts those two fingers inside you while his lips tug on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your thighs clasp around his head and toes curl as your thighs begin to quiver with pleasure surging up your spine, your moans quenched by the garment in your mouth.

Steve doesn’t abate licking up every drop you provide him, even though you're trembling through your prolonged orgasm, his grip on your thighs still bruisingly strong as you continue to mess his hair with your hold.

He smiles triumphantly at your blissed out form when you’re over the other side of your high, the bottom half of his face gleaming with a mixture of his saliva and your arousal.

“Told you I’d make it up to you for leaving last night.” Steve whispers, resting his forehead against yours as you catch your breath, slipping your panties discreetly into his jacket pocket. His smile turns soft as his large hands soothingly rub your bare thighs, squeezing slightly when he notices you enjoying the gesture.

You mentally note to take in how delicious he smells, like warm honey and mixed spices, and how his hot skin feels against your own, sending sparks shooting through you wherever his hands chose to rest, knowing at his usual distance you don’t get to appreciate either of these qualities.

His eyes look at you expectantly, as if he can’t quite find the strength to break away from you and he’s looking at you for any sign you want to push him away. It reminds you of how he looked at you when he asked you to stay in his bed last night, in that way that takes away all your air because of how much fondness is suspended in his eyes, and the words he proclaimed: you mean a lot more to me than just a quick fuck.

“As much as I want to stay here where it’s just you and me…” You reluctantly pose, and your heart squeezes at the look of disappointment which flashes over Steve’s features. “I think we should head back in there before someone starts asking questions.”

Steve steps out of the bathroom first, to look less suspicious, keeping a watchful eye outside while you readjust your dress, fix your hair and touch up your makeup the best you can after having mascara smudge underneath your eyes.

Walking back into the gala side by side, Steve’s fingers fiddle apprehensively with your own, as if to silently ask permission, before slotting perfectly into your hand. You glance up at him to find him already looking at you with that fondness which makes dormant butterflies come to life in your stomach and your cheeks burn as hot as the sun.

He holds on for as long as socially acceptable, while no one can see you, only letting go just prior to making your reappearance in the grand hall, falling into a step behind you, but ensuring to give your hand an affectionate squeeze first.

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[writtenfangirl]

Hi I was wondering if I could ask for a request where Steve and Bucky are at the park thinking back to the past in the 40s when the both of them and the reader all three of them where best friends and happy and just overall a chaotic trio and they get sad realizing that you are gone and will never get to grow older together like you once talked about before, but just then a Women accident bumps into Steve because she got distracted and when they both turn to look they see a perfect reincarnation of the reader but the reader smiles and apologizes for bumping into Steve and continues with her morning run while the both of them just can’t comprehend if that women was truly the reader or not. I understand if you can’t do this request but I would really appreciate and love it if you did do this idea thank you so much!!! 🥰

Timing

Unedited. 4792 words.

I took some inspiration from Great War by Taylor Swift

Not overly happy with this yet but I loved the idea so much I just had to post!

Italics are flashbacks of the past.

Part 2

The park was beautiful in the crest of springtime. The famed pink cherry blossoms that lined the walkway towards the Washington Monument carried with it the saccharine scent of spring. The cool morning air that blew around them ruffled through Steve’s hair, turning the sweat that dotted his bare arm and forehead cold. He could hear Bucky panting alongside him, their legs a blur of black pants and shoes as they whizzed past the other joggers who were watching them in keen interest. Sam had been left in the dust, dripping sweat and perhaps little tears as Steve and Bucky ran ahead of him.

“Race you to the—“

Bucky didn’t even need to finish his sentence before Steve pumped up his shoes and ran even faster than he did before. He heard Bucky swear silently before the quick pats of his feet against the pavement quickened in tempo. Laughter bubbled from Steve’s chest as he heard Bucky struggling to keep up.

“Guess your metal arm can’t help you now,” Steve taunted, his voice loud enough that he was sure Bucky heard him.

Bucky had previously claimed that his metal arm made him infinitely better than Steve for the sole fact that it was made out of vibranium, making him “stronger” than Steve, which Steve simply disagreed with.

“You really making fun of an amputee?” Bucky said in between pants. Steve cast a glance a little behind him, greeted with the sight of Bucky’s ruddy face as he struggled to keep up. Despite the Supersoldier serum that ran through Bucky’s veins, Steve was suddenly reminded of how much different Erskine’s serum was to Zola’s.  He’d had perfection pumped into his veins while Bucky had a mere shadow of it injected into his body.

“I’m not making fun of an amputee. I’m making fun of you!” Steve increased the tempo of his feet, running even faster and leaving Bucky behind in the dust.

He didn’t even feel winded as he arrived to the end of the pathway, watching as Bucky’s scowl deepened.

“Son of a bitch,” Bucky swore as he struggled for breath. “Whatever happened to no man left behind?”

“I abandoned that idea when we left Sam behind ” Steve could make out Sam’s struggling form far off in the distance. It would take a good 20 minutes before the man could cover the distance that yawned before them. “Think we should get him?”

Bucky followed Steve’s gaze, narrowing his blue eyes before a teasing smile stretched his lips. “Nah. I could use a couple of minutes to rest.”

Steve chuckled as he sat down on one of the park benches, patiently waiting for Sam to catch up with them. Seeing Sam in 20 minutes now seemed like an impossibility as he watched Sam pause, doubling over in exhaustion. He looked prone to collapsing and Steve briefly wondered if he should go get him but stopped as he watched Sam straighten up and continue his slow pace jogging towards them. Sam was nothing if not determined and though he hated being left behind, he’d hate being helped even more.

“You know, he’s gonna be in a really bad mood when he gets here,” Steve remarked when Bucky took the seat beside him.

“That’s what I’m banking on, Steve,” Bucky’s grin was wide and infectious. “I can’t wait to see him get all puffy when he gets here.”

“Kinda reminds me of Y/N,” Steve said tearing his gaze from Sam’s tiny figure and turning his attention to Bucky. “She use to always get so mad whenever we left her behind.”

Bucky glanced at him, a wistful look dancing in his eyes. “Do you remember that time she got so pissed off when I enlisted?”

Steve chuckled. “Definitely. She was so relieved that I couldn’t then Erskine recruited me and she went and got so angry, I thought she was never going to speak to me again.”

“She got so mad she joined the Red Cross then joined the SSR,” Bucky grinned at the memory. “We were both so surprised when she popped up in London, do you remember that?”

Steve grinned at the memory that resurfaced in his head. “How could I possibly forget?” 

“You two really think you’d seen the last of me?”

Steve spun around at the sound of the woman’s voice, his eyes growing wide at the sight of her. Y/N looked as beautiful as Steve remembered. Her hair was curled and pinned up in perfection, her lips painted a ruby red. She was wearing an elegant blue dress that showed off the roving curves of her body, her feet clad in simple black heels.

“Y/N?” Bucky’s eyes were wide in wonder and surprise. The last time Steve saw Y/N had been in New York, back home in Brooklyn. She had been crying when Steve told her that he was leaving to fight in the war. 

The busy London bar and its loud patrons seemed to melt away at the sight of her. Steve had missed Y/N, the last person to complete the mischievous trio that was their group. Strange how the people around them could continue on their conversations when Steve’s world had been rocked on its feet.

“The very same.” Y/N grinned before her gaze narrowed at Steve’s body, eyes roving up and down his suddenly tall figure. “Though, I’m not sure my friends are the same. Did you eat the Steve Rogers I know?”

Steve hadn’t even hesitated. His arms instantly found themselves around Y/N’s waist, lifting her up in an embrace that she reciprocated with a laugh. 

“Yup. You’re definitely Steven Grant Rogers. You still give the best hugs,” Y/N said as Steve set her down to her feet. 

“I can’t believe you’re here!” Bucky went in for his own hug, Y/N’s arms wrapping around Bucky’s torso. “How?”

“Well, I couldn’t sign up to be soldier,” Y/N said pulling away and she making her way to the bar and sitting down on the stool that Steve had once occupied, “so I went and became a nurse for the Red Cross. I’d heard rumors that my two best friends were fighting for the SSR and so I sent in a transfer to your unit. I received news last week that I’d been approved and I just arrived today.” 

“Who approved your transfer?” Bucky said, a permanent tone of wonderment etched on his voice. He took the seat next to Y/N while Steve took the other. 

“Some guy called Colonel Philips?”

Steve raised a dubious brow. “Philips approved your transfer?”

“I’ve been hired to keep you in line. Philips thought our personal connection would help me keep you honest. Apparently, you’ve been keeping the old man on his toes.” Y/N’s smirk widened. “My official title is Captain America’s babysitter. Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”

“You? Our babysitter? We’re likely to get into even more trouble with you around,” Bucky snorted.

Y/N’s eyes shimmered in mischief. “Good thing he doesn’t know that.”

Steve sighed at the memory. Bucky had been right. With Y/N around, they did get into more trouble. Initially, she kept Philips distracted long enough for the Howling Commandos to sneak into missions without Philips noticing. Then, she quickly became popular around the SSR headquarters, instantly befriending Peggy Carter. As the Howling Commandos tore their way through the Nazi forces, Y/N found ways to keep up morale, so much so that she began to gain notoriety amongst the Nazis. With Y/N continuously mocking Hitler on the radio and belittling and condemning the actions of HYDRA, she became public enemy number one after Steve.

She was often found beside Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes when they weren’t on missions and she worked to ensure that the Commando’s war efforts were publicly recognized. Without Y/N, most of the Howling Commando’s efforts would have gone unnoticed. Even Colonel Philips had to begrudgingly agree that Y/N was a useful asset to the team. 

“Remember when Johann Schmidt declared her a public enemy of the state?” Steve grinned as another memory resurfaced. 

“She loved it so much,” Bucky said with a slight chuckle. “She paraded that title around like she’d been crowned queen. She never cared that it was dangerous.”

“She knew how to handle herself in a fight. She use to be the only person who could beat in the boxing ring. She use to run circles around you. I’m half convinced the war would have ended earlier if she’d been allowed to become a soldier.”

“Well, it wasn’t for a lack of trying. Remember when she stole an airplane from Stark and crashed into a small HYDRA base?”

Steve’s face lit up at the memory. “I almost forgot about that! She came home covered in scrapes and bruises and splinters from when her parachute had her landing in the woods but the grin on her face made it seem like none of it hurt.”

“Oh, it hurt alright,” Bucky snorted. “She cried about it at night when she couldn’t sleep properly.”

Steve grinned. He remembered that too. Y/N was tough but she had the worst habit of letting the little things get to her. She could have easily brushed off being shot at or being threatened with a knife but the moment a minor inconvenience happens to her, it was as if a meteor was about to strike earth and end her entire world. 

“God, I miss her,” Steve said, his smile turning a little sad.

“Me too.” Bucky said solemnly. 

“I’d never seen her cry as much as she did when you fell off the train,” Steve recalled, his eyes turned haunting. “It was like a piece of her died with you.”

Y/N’s sobs were chased through his memory, her wail of pain unlike anything he’d ever heard before.

“STEVE, BRING HIM BACK! BRING HIM BACK!” Steve could feel her fists beat against his chest, pushing him towards the door. “BRING BUCKY BACK.”

“I’m sorry.” It was the only thing he could think to say. He could feel his own heart break, a fissure erupting a violent stream of hurt. “I’m sorry.” 

He knew Y/N’s pain. He understood how she felt. He felt the same pain and anger lace through him, turning his veins into ice. 

He knew she wasn’t angry at him. She was angry at the whole world. At this war for taking away their best friend, at the Nazis for their role in killing him. He knew she was angry at herself for not doing enough to try and save Bucky, even though there was nothing she could do. He knew all these things because he felt the same way.

Despite the violence that rage through Y/N, Steve simply wrapped his arms around her, tucking his head below his chin as she wailed. He closed his eyes against the sound of her sobs, committing it to memory. 

He made a vow to himself right then and there, silently promising that he would do everything in his power to ensure that Y/N would never feel this way again.

“Bring Bucky back! Steve, bring him back.”

“I wish I could.” Even to his own ears he sounded miserable. 

He could feel the fight begin to leave her body, her body giving away to tremors filled with rage. “I don’t know how to live in a world without him. Steve, please. Bring him back.”

“Was she around when you hit the ice?” Bucky’s words sucked him out of the memory.

Steve nodded. “Yeah. Her voice was the last voice I heard before everything went black.”

“Steve?”

Y/N’s voice crackled as it came through the comms. 

“Steve, are you there?” 

Steve ignored the furious beating of his heart as he spoke. “Yes. I’m here.”

“Steve, don’t die,” Y/N said, her voice breaking. “You’re not allowed to die, you understand? I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it.”

Steve felt a soft, sad smile pull at his lips. The overwhelming sense of despair that crashed against him choked the very breath that left his body. There were no words he could say, no action he could do to make her feel better. He was going to die. At this point, it was inevitable. In truth, he didn’t think he would ever be able to survive the war. Not after he lost Bucky. He knew that his life would end when this war ended.

But it didn’t stop him from imagining a life with Y/N. The love he felt for her had always found a way to cast a fog over his realism. For a while, he allowed himself to hope. To grab that kernel of light and optimism and whisper to it his final dreams for his life.

In that breathless moment, he imagined what his life would be like after this war, what it would be like if he’d lived. A life with Y/N was a faraway dream and all he wanted was to stay asleep. 

But he knew it would never be. She didn’t even know how he felt and though had  plans to ask her out if he’d  lived after the war was over, now seemed like the a good time as any. “Y/N, I never got to tell you—“

“I know.” Y/N’s voice crackled once again. He could hear the pain in her words, the what ifs and what could have beens. He could almost imagine the tears that streamed down her face as she spoke. “I’ve known for a really long time and I love you too.”

Steve felt the his heart break clean into two. She loved him?

Steve felt anger and frustration rush through him.  

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

The girl he’d loved nearly all his life told him she loved him and yet here he was, on his way to greet death.

No one ever said war was fair but no one ever told him it could be this cruel.

“How long have you known?” 

“Ever since we were kids,” she said with a sad little laugh. For a moment, Steve imagined that they were sitting in a diner as they talked and that they had all the time in the world  rather than just a few  minutes.  “I loved you ever since we were kids. I was just waiting for you to make a move and you never did.”

“I never thought a girl like you would ever want to go out with a guy like me.”

Steve could almost imagine the frown on Y/N’s face, at her brows pulling together, forming the little wrinkles Steve loved. “A guy like you? Thoughtful? Kind? Honest?”

“A guy you’d step on and squish. I thought I’d wait until after the war to ask you out.”

“Steven Grant Rogers, I’ve loved you since I was eight. I loved you before you were Captain America and I will love you after. The only thing I don’t love about you is your terrible timing.”

Steve ignored the tear that feel from his eye. Here was the girl of his dreams confessing to him that she’d loved him for as long as they knew each other. He deserved a kick on the ass for being a coward. For being the stupid bastard who didn’t let himself love her as freely as she deserved. Now all he got was a few minutes rather than the years they deserved.

“Tell you what,” Steve said, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed down the lump on his throat. “Why don’t we go on a date? You and me. After all of this is over, we eat dinner at Frankie’s and see where to go from there.” 

There was a beat of silence before Y/N spoke again. “So long as you promise to be there.”

“I’ll be there. 7:30 sharp.”

Another beat of silence. “I’ll wear that green dress you like you so much. Just promise you’ll be there.” Y/N’s voice cracked into a sob and Steve was sure something in him cracked along with it. 

He knew Y/N. He knew that there were no two people she loved more on this earth than him and Bucky. Losing Bucky broke something in Y/N, something Steve knew would take him years to fix. Steve’s death would break something in her that could never be fixed.

Steve could see that he was nearing to the glacier now, nearing the spot that Peggy had told him would cause minimal damage. 

He hated this. Hated that time seemed to melt from his fingers like snow. He’d had a whole plan about his life. Return home with Bucky and Y/N by his side, and finally ask Y/N out. He’d marry her, have children with her, have Bucky be their children’s godfather, grow old with her. 

And now all that seemed to melt away from him.

“As long as you promise to try and move on.”

He heard the sob that racked through her, heard the tremble in her voice as she spoke. “Steve, I can’t do that.”

“You have to,” Steve’s voice was strong, betraying none of the misery he felt as he began the plane’s slow descent towards the freezing waters. “Promise me that, Y/N. Promise me that you’ll move on. Because, I love you, Y/N. I’ve loved you a long time. I want you to live your best life and you can’t do that if you’re holding on to the past.”

“Okay,” Y/N said, her voice low in a fervent whisper that sounded an awful lot like a prayer. “I promise I’ll move on. But I also vow to be yours after this stupid war is over. I’ll be yours forever if you survive.”

“I vow I’ll always be yours, Y/N,” Steve said. He knew in his heart that his words were true. With death’s hand on his shoulders, he will always be Y/N’s.

“Steve, I love—“

And his plan plunged to the cold depths of the ocean.

“The first thing I did after I woke up from the ice was look for her,” Steve said as the memory melted away. 

“I know,” Bucky said as he placed a comforting hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You told me you found her but I didn’t want to know what happened to her. I think I’m ready now.”

“She died (your age) years ago,” Steve said with a heavy sigh. “She got sick. Cancer apparently. She was in remission for a while until she relapsed. She fought til the end until her body gave out.”

Bucky seemed to pause, holding in a breath as he processed the information. “Who buried her?”

At that, a smile pulled at Steve’s lips. “After I died, she helped establish SHIELD with Peggy and Howard. She never married but she had children and grandchildren. They buried her next to our graves back home in Brooklyn.”

“Of course she wouldn’t marry,” Bucky said with an almost satisfied smirk. “I don’t think any man was ever good enough for her except for us. I could only imagine the scandal of her having kids without a husband.”

“That’s probably why she did it. Scandalizing people, especially the old coots back home, was her favorite past time.” This time, the smile that stretched Steve’s lips were wide, all nostalgia and joy.

“I think I’d like to visit her. You think you can show me where she’s buried?”

Steve nodded. “I visited her a couple of times. Let me tell you this though, seeing a gravestone with your name on it is weird.”

Bucky’s laugh rang around the open park. “I can imagine.”

Steve could hear Sam’s quick panting as he neared the bench. Sweat dripped down his face towards his grey sweater, his face puffy and his eyes wide, almost in delirium.

“I can’t believe you both left me!” Sam said as he pointed an accusatory finger at them before bracing himself against his knees and releasing a pained wheeze. “On your left my ass! You were at my front!”

“Not our fault you’re slow,” Bucky said with a challenging smirk.

“I will beat your ass up.” Sam said gravely, fixing a shrewd glare in Bucky’s direction.

“You can’t even stand up.”

“I will beat your ass up as soon as I can stand up.” Sam said, his words sandwiched between even more panting.

Steve shook his head at his arguing friends before he stood up. “Here. Take my seat.”

Sam took the seat, settling down on the stone bench in a tired slump. “Jesus, I don’t think I can move after this.”

“Great. Steve, let’s go,” Bucky said teasingly as he stood up.

“Bucky,” Steve said with a disappointed tsk and shake of his head.

Suddenly, Steve felt his body jolt as something, or rather, someone, hit his back.

“Shit, I am so sorry,” the woman said, causing Steve’s back to stiffen.

That voice. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

He spun around in surprise, watching the woman as she straightened up. 

And there she was.

The bustling of the park, Sam’s heavy breathing, even the shock in Bucky’s face as he looked at the woman, all faded in the background. His focus zeroed in on the woman’s face.

Everything about her was the same. The same innocent smile tinged with mischief; the same beautiful E/C eyes that crinkled as she smiled; the same nose. Even the way she moved was the same. The way she ran her hand through her face in embarrassment, the way she bit her lips until they turned pink, the way her face flushed in embarrassment. Her H/C was pulled back in a ponytail, the usual skirts and dresses Steve remembered she always wore was replaced by black leggings and a tight red tank top but it was still her. It was as if an angel thumbed through his memories and pulled forth the very figure of his hopes and dreams.

The only thing missing was the gleam of familiarity in Y/N’s eyes. 

“I am so sorry,” the woman said, her cheeks tinging red in embarrassment.  “Trust me of all people to bump into Captain America.”

Despite his disbelief, Steve’s brows pulled together, forming into a look of hope. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do,” she chirped happily. “You’re Steve Rogers. Mr. Captain America. And you—“ she pointed to Bucky, who was looking at her as she was his very salvation. “—are Bucky Barnes, the Winter Solider. Or, at least you were the Winter Soldier. And you—“ she pointed at Sam, who was glancing at her face back to Steve’s face back to Bucky’s face and back again to Y/N’s face “—are the Falcon.”

Realization seemed to dawn in Sam’s features as he continued to study the woman’s face. Ever the loyal friend, Sam reached a hand forward as he stood up, his previous feeling of exhaustion replaced by a polite smile as if he realized that his friends couldn’t fathom much less understand what  was going on. “Call me Sam. Pleasure to meet you, miss.”

“Y/N,” the woman said brightly, oblivious to the whoosh of breath that was knocked out from Steve’s chest. She reached for Sam’s hand, giving him a firm handshake.

Steve felt like a bucket of ice water fell on his head as he gazed at Y/N. He couldn’t seem to shake off the feeling of shock and judging by the way Bucky was staring at Y/N intently, he couldn’t either.

“You run here often?” Sam asked politely, ignoring Bucky’s look of wonder and Steve’s gaping mouth.

“First time actually. I only just moved here from Brooklyn. I didn’t know the Avengers ran here often.”

“Not the Avengers. Just us three. Occasionally, Natasha joins us,” Sam said by way of conversation as he subtly glanced at Bucky and Steve, who still haven’t said anything.

Y/N nodded politely. Politely. The Y/N he knew was only ever polite when she was around strangers. She was being polite because she didn’t know who she was, what she meant to Bucky and Steve. To her, they were Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers, war heroes and the Avengers. They weren’t Bucky and Steve, her best friends in the whole wide world.

Her eyes darted around nervously as she pursed her lips. She sent another apologetic smile towards Steve’s  direction. “Sorry again, Mr. Rogers. I didn’t meant to bump into you. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

‘Mr. Rogers’ spurred Steve into movement, words finally finding him. “It was no problem. Please, it’s Steve. Mr. Rogers makes me feel old.”

The same old mischievous grin Steve was used to seeing on Y/N’s face appeared. “Well, you are about a hundred or so years old.”

“I’m sprightly for a hundred years or so, I think,” Steve said with a smile, betraying none of the wonder that echoed in his thoughts.

“You both are,” Y/N said as she glanced at Bucky, giving him a sweet smile. “I should get going. I have a couple rounds left before I reach my goal for the day. It was nice meeting you all.”

“You too,” Bucky blurted out, as if realizing that he hadn’t spoken at all since he first laid eyes on Y/N.

Y/N sent him another sweet smile before she jogged away.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Steve turned to his friends.

“She looked just like Y/N. It can’t be a coincidence that they have the same name.” Sam said as he watched Y/N’s retreating figure. He’d only seen pictures of Y/N from old photographers of when the trio was still in the SSR but Sam’s always been sharp and good at faces. He would have recognized Y/N even without Bucky and Steve there.

“It was her. I know it’s her.” Bucky said, resolution and determination shining in his eyes. “I don’t know how or why but I know it’s her.”

Sam frowned. “Bucky, she died years ago.”

“It was her,” Steve said, breaking apart whatever brewing argument was inevitably going to start between his friends. “I know it doesn’t make sense but it was her. I’d recognize her with my eyes closed and I know deep in my bones, it’s the same Y/N that Bucky and I grew up with. That’s Y/N.”

Hope blossomed in Steve’s chest, a warm fire that rivaled the heat of the recently risen sun on the horizon. There was no doubt in his mind that the woman he just met was Y/N. He didn’t know how something so impossible has been made possible and in truth, he couldn’t bring himself to care. Even if she couldn’t remember who she was, who Bucky was, who Steve was, he was determined to remind her.

There was the love of his life. His timing had failed him before and he wasn’t about to let that happen again.

He didn’t even realize he’d been running until Y/N’s retreating figure loomed before him, Sam and Bucky yelling out his name in vain.

“Y/N, wait!”

She turned, surprised flitting to her face before confusion settled in. She stopped running, letting Steve catch up to her. 

“I hope you’re not here to tell me you plan on charging me for assault because I swear, when I bumped into you, it was an accident.” Y/N said, still clearly confused but nevertheless letting her naturally teasing nature show.

“I don’t mean to be too forward but I actually wanted to ask you out on a date,” Steve blurted out, the fast beating of his heart from his short run picking up in tempo as nervousness took over.

She startled. “You want to go on a date with me?”

“Yes.”

She seemed to consider it for a moment before she slowly nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. It lit up her whole face, reminding Steve of memories he’d long since buried. “Alright. Okay, yeah. I’ll go on a date with you. I’m pretty sure an Avenger wouldn’t actively try to kill me.”

He laughed, his laughter as warm as the hope that blossomed in his chest. 

Maybe it was magic or an evil plot. His optimism would want him to believe that Y/N was a miracle though. Maybe a gift from God for all of his good deeds. Whatever it was, Steve was going to do it right this time, shitty timing be damned.

#steve rogers oneshots #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x reader #avengers oneshot #avengers fanfic #avengers imagines #steve rogers #steve rogers au #captain america #captain america oneshots #captain america imagines #captain america x reader #steve x reader #chris evans #bucky barnes #tony stark #natasha romanoff #steve rogers angst #bucky barnes angst #steve rogers fluff #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes reader insert #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #black widow #winter soldier

[mushrubes]

Lose you

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist |

Requested : no

prompt 83.  “Why do you do this to yourself?” + 30. “Are you awake? Oh my god I was so worried, holy shit I thought I was going to lose you.”

Pairing : Steve Rogers x (they/them) reader

Type : fluff

Word count : 464

Warnings : Swearing

You’re doing so well !! <3

——————————–

“They’re right through there, Cap.” Tony informed him, patting his back. Tony, Y/n and Nat had been on a mission when Y/n had got heavily injured, a deep cut in their side that they would have been unable to tend to properly on the ship. Luckily, they were done with the mission and were on the way back to the ship when it occurred, a troop they had missed striking them. They had managed to wrap it up tightly enough to last for the journey back, setting them to the hospital wing in shield as soon as they got back. Steve had headed over as soon as he was informed, worried about them. It was no secret the two had a thing for each other - the long gazes, the hand holding, the constant worrying about the other when they’re on a mission - it didn’t go unnoticed. 

Steve sat in the seat beside the bed, looking at Bruce. “How are they?” he questioned, resting his head on his hand. “They’re okay hopefully, the cut was pretty deep, but we were able to treat it properly however I’m not sure when they’ll wake up.” he informed him, Steve thanking him and telling him to go home for the day, he’ll tend to them when they wake up and call if there were any issues. He got a cup of coffee and some food for when they woke up, as well as a snack for him. He was watching whatever was on the tv when he heard a movement, Y/n fidgeting in their bed and groaning. “Are you awake?” Steve questioned, abandoning his drink on the table and kneeling beside the bed, moving the hair out of their face. They hummed in response, opening their eyes and blinking a few times, realising he was in front. 

“Hi.” they smiled, Steve letting out a sigh of relief which made them chuckle at his response. “Oh my god, I was so worried. Holy shit, I thought I was going to lose you.” he rambled, Y/n rolling their eyes and grinning, putting their hand on his cheek and caressing it softly. “Why do you do this to yourself?” Y/n questioned softly, Steve turning his head in confusion. “Do what?” he responded, not knowing what they were referring to. “Worry so much. I’m fine, Steve, it was just a cut in my side.” they assured, knowing the cut was bad but he was worrying himself too much. “I just care about you. I don’t know what I’d do without you and that cut was deep.” he admitted, returning their smile. They leant forward, inches away from his face. “Luckily, you’ll never have to know.” Y/n grinned, connecting their lips with his for a much-awaited kiss. 

“God, I love you.”

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers oneshot #steve rogers oneshots #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imgine #captain america imagines #captain america oneshot #captain america oneshots

[elixirfromthestars]

Here For You

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader

Summary:  After being injured on a mission, you try your best to hide it from the team to continue fighting alongside them. However, one very perceptive super soldier makes hiding your injury an impossibility.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warning(s):  mentions + description of injuries / a bit of hurt—comfort / does not follow the canon timeline in the mcu / mentions of near-death encounters (from civilians) 

requested by @marigoldreamer

a/n: hello everyone! i started off on here as solely a Bucky writer, but it seems like i cannot get enough of Steve when I write about him ✨ this originally was much shorter and then I got carried away lol (which is one of the reasons why it took so long to get out, sorry 🥲) thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! ❤️❤️ feedback is much appreciated! ❤️❤️

birthday bingo masterlist 💙 // main masterlist 💙

“Oh, that does not look good,” you muttered under your breath, grimacing at the sight of your swollen skin. You were standing in front of your bedroom mirror, your shirt lifted, exposing the bruise coloring the area around your ribcage. You knew you had injured yourself on yesterday's mission, but you avoided visiting the infirmary, not wanting Friday to alert the team of the extent of your injuries. 

You knew it was bad—the persistent discomfort you felt with every breath you took told you so. However, the team was already spread scarce with multiple threats around the world, so they needed everyone available. 

The team couldn’t afford you not being available right now.

So although your body was telling you desperately it needed attention, you decided to push through the pain and help out as best as you could. You had a meeting with your team in about half an hour, so you had until then to figure out how to lessen the after-effects of your injury—and how to hide it for the time being. 

You went into your closet and scanned the rows of clothing searching for the perfect item. You ended up choosing an evergreen knitted sweater. It was big enough to hide something underneath it without raising suspicion—which is exactly what you needed right now. 

Lifting the sweater over your shoulders and through your arms caused an excruciating raw ache to reverberate within your chest with every movement. You mitigated your motion to lessen the toll this simple task was taking on your body. 

You didn’t want to think of how your condition could worsen within the field. 

You pushed those thoughts into the back of your mind and with your sweater on, you made your way over to the kitchen in the Avenger’s compound. Thankfully, no one was there to question why you were taking out a small bag of frozen peas from the freezer, wrapping it in a hand towel, and placing it under your sweater. 

You flinched at the sudden change of temperature, but quickly eased into it as it numbed your injury. This would have to do until you could sneak into the infirmary later and get your hands on painkillers. Then you could properly rest from the nagging discomfort in your lower chest. 

You interlocked your hands and lightly hugged them to the injured area to keep the frozen peas in place. Rarely did anyone ever show up to the team meetings early, so your next step was to get in there before everyone else and then ultimately leave after everyone else with no one noticing a thing.

A simple task of course. 

You made your way down the hallways of the compound slower than usual. You avoided making brisk or swift movements as it caused your chest to constrict more than it was capable of, causing a shooting jolt to go through you. Every time it did that you had to suppress a string of coughs that only added to your pain. 

At this point, your mind ruminated on the thought of you potentially not being able to make it through the meeting. It was a doubt that was now weighing heavy on your shoulders.

When you finally made it to the conference room, the beeping of a screen caught your attention. Taking a quick peek inside, you notice Steve is already there. He was tapping away at the large presentation screen, getting mission reports together for the meeting. 

Well, this just got a bit complicated.

Steve is a super soldier—a highly perceptive super soldier. He was going to notice your presence sooner or later, so you needed to get into the farthest seat from him before he noticed. This would be the seat at the other end of the table from where Steve was standing. Thankfully, this seat was a quick dash away. 

A quick painful dash away. 

Steve opened up a file on the screen and a video of a building falling to ruins began playing. The audio of the destruction echoed in the room and you took this chance to scurry over to the seat. You plopped yourself down just as the video finished, almost rolling away with the wheels of the black office chair. Your hands scurried to keep the frozen peas hidden beneath your shirt. 

Due to your injury, your movements across the room weren’t gracious. You had fumbled as you plopped down onto the seat causing your chest to contract and tighten more than it should have. This ignited a burning sensation to burst within your chest. You inhaled sharply before biting the inside of your lip as hard as you could to stop yourself from making any further noise. 

Steve’s head shot back to look at you in confusion.

“ Y/n? Everything okay?” Steve’s brows were furrowed, as he slowly turned his body around to face you. You cleared your throat before answering, “ Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just shocked at the destruction of that building. What happened to it?” You changed the subject of the conversation to something that wasn’t you. 

Steve’s eyes stared into yours for a few seconds before answering,“ I’m not sure yet. We received this video from the CIA and we’re being sent there to investigate. They think it was an attack by one of the terrorist organizations that worked closely with Hydra.” He finished explaining, his brows relaxing from their furrowed state. 

Steve handed you one of the mission reports before placing the rest in the middle. You opened the file and pretended to look through it. In reality, you were adjusting with one hand—as quietly as you could—the frozen peas beneath your shirt in a better position since the bag had slipped away from the injured spot when you sat down. It was now chilling your stomach, leaving your injured spot unattended to. 

“ Y/n, are you sure everything’s okay?” Steve was looking at you with a puzzled, yet concerned gaze. He was standing only a chair or two away—a little too close for comfort.

You locked eyes and paused for a moment to think of what to say. Steve was your team’s captain and your close friend. You knew, without a shadow of a doubt, you could trust him. However, trust in this case meant him taking you out of the field at a time when the team needed you most.

As you were contemplating on what to tell him, Sam, Bucky, and Natasha walked into the room bickering over what to order for lunch. Their entrance saving you from having to answer Steve. He shot you a quick look letting you know this conversation wasn’t over. 

Now you would also have to find a way to evade any future conversation about your well-being.

“ So, Bucky and I are craving some Japanese food right now, but Nat wants Greek food. What’ll it be guys?” Sam explained their current predicament as they all approached the table. The three of them stared back at you two in anticipation. 

“ Greek sounds nice,” Steve replied, sauntering over to the front end of the table. Natasha smiled in amusement as the voting was now at a tie. She sat closest to Steve while Sam and Bucky sat across from each other in the chairs directly to your left and right. Their proximity consequently causing your nerves to spike up. 

“ It’s up to you to break the tie. Don’t let me down, Y/n.” Sam pleaded in a lighthearted manner. If you were completely honest, appeasing your appetite was the least of your worries. However, your body was begging for some warmth as the frozen bag continued its icy attack on your skin. You thought maybe eating something right now wasn’t such a bad idea. 

“ Sorry, Nat. Sorry, Steve. Some miso soup sounds really good right now,” you smiled at Sam who basked in this small victory. Bucky was beaming beside you as well. Natasha playfully scoffed and shrugged at the loss while Steve put his hands up in a playful surrender. 

“ I knew we could count on you,” Sam turned to you and gave you a friendly pat on your shoulder. This caused a stinging prick to shoot through the left side of your chest. You winced, a small yelp escaping your lips.  

Everyone froze and stared at you worriedly. “ Are you okay? I didn’t pat you that hard did I?” Sam asked guilty, taken aback by your reaction. You shook your head profusely, “ No, Sam, it’s okay—I’m okay. It’s just I got a sunburn on one of our last missions and it still hasn’t healed fully.” You lied through your teeth, giving everyone in the room a reassuring smile. 

Everyone looked relieved—except for Steve whose suspicion you assumed was getting stronger by the second. 

“ Sorry about that, I didn’t know. My Titi always swore that soaking in a cool bath of baking soda and oats would soothe any degree of sunburn. You should try it,” Sam suggested. His thoughtfulness warmed your heart, “ You’re fine, Sam—really. I’ll have to try that out and let you know how it works out.” You send him another reassuring smile. You mentally cursed yourself for your outburst. Another slip-up like that and anyone on the team was sure to find out about your injury.

In no time, Sam was ordering everyone food and Steve began debriefing you all on the next mission that you all had to leave for in a couple of hours. You weren’t paying attention as the stinging in your chest worsened. The frozen peas beneath your shirt had melted and were adding to your discomfort instead of aiding it. By the time the meeting ended, and Sam told everyone to meet up in the kitchen for lunch, lifting yourself off of your chair felt like an impossible task. 

Everyone had gone off to eat except for Steve and you. Throughout the whole meeting, you felt his eyes watching you. You avoided looking in his direction and focused solely on the files and the screen behind him the entire time. You felt if you had looked into his pretty blues at any point during the meeting, your resolve would have crumbled. 

“ This time I’m not going to ask. I know you’re not okay and I know it has to do with yesterday. We need to talk about what happened last night,” Steve’s voice was gentle, yet serious as he approached you. The exhaustion of suppressing your pain was getting to you and his presence brought you much-needed comfort. Your determination to act like nothing was wrong was slipping away from you with every passing second.

“ What—do you mean?” your voice broke, swallowing hard to find the courage within you to admit you needed assistance. Steve took the seat next to you, “ Last night when we were rescuing civilians from the burning rubble, you went into the collapsing building against orders,” he reminded you. 

“ And saved the three people who were trapped inside,” you added. He sighed, his lips forming a tight line, “ Against orders. The instructions were that I was supposed to be the one to get the trapped civilians inside—not you,” his tone was heavy with frustration. 

You shook your head, “ You weren’t going to make it in time. I was the closest one. As soon as you arrived the building collapsed completely. If I hadn’t gone in they would have died. I might not be a super soldier, but I can do my job pretty damn well, Steve. ” You were getting defensive, feeling as though your abilities as an Avenger were being questioned. 

While your actions may have been defiant, they resulted in three lives saved. That had to count for something.

“ I’m not doubting your stance as an Avenger. You are amazing at what you do and we need you here. But that gets put into jeopardy when you jump into dangerous situations without thinking and get yourself hurt,” he further explained, your eyebrows shooting up at his words. “ All of the situations we jump into are dangerous,” you pointed out.  

His eyes narrowed, his exasperation at your stubbornness growing, “ We don’t bargain our lives out in the field, Y/n.” His tone was disapproving, making you feel like a scolded child. Irritation crawled its way up your spine. This coming from Steve of all people made it even worse.

” Okay, Mr.I-jumped-on-top-of-a-grenade-to-save-everyone,” you shot back at him. Steve would constantly make self-sacrificing calls on the field to save other people. Why was it okay for him to do it, but not you? 

“ That was different,” was all he managed to come back at you with. 

“ In what way?” you asked, curious to know the real answer. 

“ Well for starters, it was a world war. The mentality of everyone at that time was different. In the beginning, I was outcasted. No one worked as a team with me. The only person alive who cared for me was miles away on the battlefield. It was everyone for themselves,” he paused reminiscing the past with a solemn look before continuing, “ We’re a team here, Y/n. There are people here that care about you. We look out for each other and keep each other safe. That’s how it's supposed to be,” he stated with sincerity. 

You took a moment to gather your thoughts and let the weight of his words sink in. Steve had opened up about his past to you before, but the way he spoke of it now gave you a deeper perspective on things. 

“ I’ll stop if you do,” you proposed, tired of the arguing and understanding where Steve was coming from. A small smile fell on his lips,“ Okay, it’s a deal. Come on, let’s get you to the infirmary so Friday can scan the extent of your injuries.” He stood up bending down slightly offering his shoulder and arm as support. 

You reached out and let him take the brunt of the effort of getting you out of the seat. The more you leaned on his support, the less it took a toll on your own body. You kept one arm on his shoulder and the other on the now-melted bag of peas beneath your sweater as you lifted yourself off of the seat. The slight twist of your torso intensified the pain within your chest for a second before mellowing out to its usual tempo. 

Steve couldn’t hide the emotions behind his intense stare. His voice and touch were gentle, yet strong in the way they guided you out of the room. He was doing his best to keep you calm but by the look on his face, you could tell your injury had to be more serious than you previously thought.

The walk to the infirmary was easier with Steve by your side. When you arrived Steve helped you prop yourself onto one of the infirmary beds, calling out for Friday’s assistance. He then went over to one of the storage cabinets and grabbed a few white pillows to place behind you. He adjusted them so you could sit in a position that was easy on your injury. 

“ How’s that? Does that feel alright?” Steve asked as a blue robotic arm scanned your body. You nodded in appreciation,“ It’s perfect, Steve, thank you.” He sent you a small smile, his eyes still reflecting a worrisome look. You took out the melted bag of peas from your sweater and unraveled it from the hand towel. Steve let out a small chuckle of disbelief at the sight of it. 

“ What? I’ll have you know this little bag was a lifesaver,” you informed him. Steve’s eyes twinkled with amusement, his smile getting wider, “ Oh, I bet it was. You’ll have to explain to Nat why her Olivye salad will no longer have peas in it though.” 

Your eyes went wide, “ Oh no.” 

He held in a laugh, “ Oh yeah.” 

Friday’s Irish robotic voice suddenly spoke up interrupting the two of you,“ Body scan complete. Moderately bruised ribs detected. Rest is recommended for the next three to six weeks or until the injury is completely healed. Medication is on its way.” She informed you of your diagnosis causing you to let out a sigh of relief you didn’t know you were holding. For a moment there you thought you might have fractured your ribs or maybe even bruised your lungs. Those injuries were more severe and so was their treatment. However, having to rest for the next three to six weeks wasn’t ideal either. 

“ Steve, I’m so sorry. I didn’t listen and now I’m out of the field for weeks and I know the team was counting on me—” Steve interrupted your rambling by placing his hand on yours, “ There’s nothing to be sorry about. Our job is dangerous and this kind of stuff happens all the time. If anything, I should be the one that’s sorry.” You frowned not only confused at his words but also at how comforting the sensation of his hand on yours was. 

“ Sorry about what?” you tilted your head, unclear of what he meant. 

“ I'm sorry I wasn’t able to protect you,” he clarified, his voice full of regret.

Your mouth opened to form words, but nothing came out. Why would Steve be sorry about that? Did he shoulder the responsibility for everyone’s well-being because he’s the captain? Did he feel this way about everyone on the team? Your thoughts jumbled together, causing you to be unsure of what to think. 

“ Steve, please don’t put this on yourself. I made a call against your orders and while I did save a few lives, I took a hard fall, injuring myself in the process. There’s no need to worry or care beyond that. I’ll be fine,” you couldn’t take his crestfallen expression and did your best to dismiss your current situation. Steve was not happy about that.

“ Don’t say that. We all care about you—I care about you. I worry about you and I hate seeing you like this. I feel responsible for not protecting someone who means a lot to me from getting hurt,” there was a vulnerability in his voice that caused your heart rate to elevate and your features to soften. A new sensation was inching its way into your heart, and his words yielded you to see him in a different light. 

“ Steve I…” you trailed off not knowing what to say. Steve gave you a shy smile,“ You don’t have to say anything,” he removed his hand from yours and grabbed the bag of peas from beside you, “ I’ll go take this back to the kitchen and get you that miso soup you really wanted.” He left the room, giving you a chance to process what was going on. 

There was always something about Steve that was different in the way you interacted, but until a few minutes ago you had never thought of the possibility of Steve seeing you as anything more than part of the team. You were always partnered up on missions and got to know each other on a deeper level than you had with any other Avenger. Apart from a few playful exchanges here and there you had always assumed Steve only saw you as a friend. 

Not to mention he had a history with a CIA agent named Sharon, and you genuinely believed they would end up together. The thought of Steve having feelings for you was never on the table. 

Except now it was and that caused your feelings toward him to emerge from a place you didn’t know they had been hidden.  

Two red robotic arms appeared on your left, breaking you from your thoughts. One arm was holding a small cylindrical tin with a couple of pills and the other held a cup of water. You took it eagerly and consumed the medication hoping the pain would subside enough to get some sleep. You barely got any last night and the sleep deprivation was starting to get to you. 

Steve came back into the room, moments later, as the medication began to take effect—along with its side effects. 

“ Hey there…” you greeted Steve in a sluggish voice. The medication had increased your drowsiness, making it harder to stay awake. He approached your bedside, a bowl of miso soup in his hands, while Friday updated him on your current state. 

He placed the bowl on the nightstand next to the bed,“ Hey there, sleepyhead. Guess the miso soup is going to have to wait. Get some rest, the food will be here when you wake up.” You tried nodding as your eyes fought to stay open. Your mind was clouding, but what was clear to you was that you didn’t want Steve to walk away again without telling him how you felt.

“ No, don’t go, please,” you pleaded, your hand reaching out to him. He looked at you fondly, finding your actions endearing. “ I have to go soon, Y/n. I have to prepare for the mission before we leave in under an hour,” he explained to you. You yawned, your fatigued state making it harder to understand what he was saying. 

“ You can’t because I have to tell you…” your eyes were starting to close.

“Tell me what?” Steve asked you, entertaining this conversation a little longer. He couldn’t hide the affectionate grin you provoked on him.  

“ I have to tell you…” this time your voice was only but a whisper. If Steve hadn’t been a super soldier with heightened hearing he might’ve missed it. 

“ Get some sleep. We can talk later, okay?” He assured you, a softness in his tone you hadn’t heard him use with anyone ever. As much as he was enjoying this, he was adamant about you getting your rest.  

You lazily shook your head,“ No…you have to know how much you mean to me too…” you managed to coherently mumble fighting off the heaviness of your eyelids. Steve was pleasantly surprised by your response, his pulse quickening as yours had done in your previous conversation. 

This time he needed a moment to figure out what he was going to say. To know that maybe even a sliver of the feelings he felt for you were returned in any way was more than he had hoped for. He wasn’t sure how you felt about him, and while Bucky and Sam had profusely encouraged him to ask you out on a date, there was always something stopping him. The fear of ruining the friendship you two have was enough to hesitate from ever confessing anything to you. 

However, if what you said was true, then maybe he should be completely honest with you. 

He gathered his thoughts, taking a deep breath ready to speak them to you. That was until he realized you had fallen asleep. The time he took thinking was all you needed to drift off into a peaceful slumber. 

He laughed at himself, although albeit a bit relieved he would be able to have a heart-to-heart later with a more conscious you. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to pour his feelings out to someone who might think it was all a dream when they woke up. 

“ Sweet dreams, Y/n,” he whispered into the air, planting a small kiss on your forehead. He then exited the room and that afternoon while on the mission he was more enthusiastic than usual. This caused the rest of the team to speculate on the reason why. 

Interestingly enough all the reasons why involved you.   

Unbeknownst to him, your dream that same afternoon had revolved around a handsome blonde and blue-eyed super soldier. 

It was a very sweet dream indeed.  

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x you #steve rogers oneshot #captain america x reader #captain america fic #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x y/n #birthday bingo request

[make-me-imagine]

Flowers and Courage

Plot: After Bucky fears he might lose his chance with you, he finally finds the courage to tell you how he feels.

Prompts: 'Secret admirer' + "I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you."

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gn!Reader

Requested By: Anonymous (a left over request from Valentines Day)

A/n: Sorry its so short and kind of sucks lol I had some trouble getting it down.

Words: 1.1k

-

Bucky was deep in thought as he sat at the bar, his hands slowly turning the glass in his hands as he thought about what to do. He wasn't sure how long he had been here already, but it felt like time had slowed down since he sat down to think.

He felt like he was in grade school all over again. Uncertain of how to tell his crush how he feels, so instead he just leaves them secret notes and candy.

But he wasn't a child anymore, and you weren't just a crush. He had never felt anything so deep and real for anyone before. And he had never found something so hard as he did confessing to you.

It was supposed to be easy, show up at your doorstep with flowers. Allow them to lead into a natural confession. But the second you opened your door, and your eyes cast over the flowers, causing a look of surprise over your face, he panicked.

"These were in front of your door." He said suddenly, feeling all courage he thought he had dissipate.

"Oh really?" You asked with growing curiosity as you took them. "I wonder if they were left at the wrong door."

Bucky felt disappointment and anger at himself wash over him as he held back on saying they were definitely for you.

That had happened months ago. And ever since then, it had become habit for him to hide how he felt. The coffees and flowers left to you randomly at work were thought of as kind gestures of a stranger.

When in reality it was Bucky. Showing his feelings for you the only way it seemed he could. Secretly.

He admired you from afar, adored you really. But was your friend up close, showing no real evidence of how he felt, or so he thought, and hoped.

Bucky thought it was fine, it could become the normal, it had become the normal. Until yesterday, when he overhead another agent talking to you, flirting shamelessly.

And then the man had the audacity to take credit for the flowers and the coffees, everything Bucky had done for you. This ass-hat had swooped in taken all the credit, trying to sweep you off your feet.

It infuriated Bucky, but he held back, not wanting to make a scene, or throw the man through a window.

So here he was, trying to find what courage he could through the anger to tell you once and for all how he felt about you.

Downing the last of his drink, Bucky slapped some money down and left, determination anchored in his heart as he made his way towards your apartment.

--- --- ---

As you pulled open your door, your heart leapt in you chest as you saw Bucky standing at your doorstep. You always felt that same wave of nervousness and butterflies when you saw him, even though you had known him, and been friends for years.

Your eyes cast down to his hands and you felt your chest clench. Flowers. Were they for you? Were they from him? Were they left at your doorstep again? Were they from the agent from work?

Out of all of those options, you hoped they would be from Bucky. Just like you had hoped they were the first time.

"Bucky, hi!" You greeted with a bright smile. "Come in!"

He smiled, but you could tell something was off, he seemed nervous, and that only added to your own anxieties.

As he stepped into your apartment he cleared his throat, handing you the flowers that had been in his hands, you noticed his knuckles were white as he gripped them before letting go.

"These are for you."

"Oh-" You hesitated for a moment "Were they left at the door step again?"

The first time this happened, when Bucky told you the flowers were left at your doorstep you were disappointed. But something told you they had really been from him. Maybe it was just you being hopeful.

Bucky shook his head and spoke, his voice softer than you had been expecting. "No, they're from me."

He saw your eyes widen as your face brightened up and he felt a wave of relief and triumph wash over him.

"Thank you, but- what are they for?" You asked cautiously, yet curious.

A thousand thoughts seemed to cross Bucky's mind in the span of a second as he froze, before he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck.

"They- uh, there-" he sighed before laughing dryly "I used to be better at this."

You smiled "Better at what Buck?"

He met your eyes and saw nothing but your familiar kindness, and a hint of encouragement, even eagerness.

"Confessing."

You felt as thought your heart stopped as your breath hitched in your throat.

Bucky continued before you could respond. "Those flowers from a few months ago, they weren't left on your doorstep, I got those for you too, I just...panicked"

You repressed a giggle "You...panicked?"

"I know." He laughed softly. "I don't know I just- I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same, and that it would ruin what friendship we had. So I kept it to myself. I left you coffees and flowers at your desk after that" he saw your face turn to realization "And yesterday I heard that douc- that guy tell you he did it, and it pissed me off. But I realized it was my fault, for not having told you earlier. So I decided to tell you. Because- because I'm tired of hiding how I feel about you. I care about you much more than I have anyone in my life. And I don't want to lose you or any chance I might have of being with you. "

He watched you closely as you looked down at the flowers, watching as a smile slowly spread across your face. "I knew he didn't leave them for me. He made it so obvious he was lying." You looked up and met Bucky's eyes "And honestly, I had a feeling it might have been you, but I was too afraid to get my hopes up. Because I feel the same about you Bucky, everything you said, I feel it too."

You saw a wave of relief and happiness cross his face as you spoke. Suddenly he stepped closer, reaching up and gently touching your cheek as he smiled. "I wasted quite a bit of time, didn't I?"

You shrugged as your grin widened "Nothing you can't make up for."

xx

Sorry it ended so abruptly, I literally could not get anything else out of my brain lol

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @alexxavicry, @witchygagirl

Marvel+Bucky Taglist: @aquariuslavenderhoney, @trashywritestrash, @groovy-lady, @marvelouslyme96, @supersourlemon13, @mochamoff, @simsiddy, @gay-and-ready-to-cry, @flourishandblotts-inc, @spuffyfan394, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @locke-writes, @cs-please, @soultrysworld, @a-lumos-in-the-nox, @creativitybeware, @that-marvel-simp, @gatefleet, @skylions-den, @dominos-palast, @maellem, @readingwithatorch, @cauliflowertree, @writerfulltime, @cosplayingwitch, @sweetpeapod, @hoodedbirdie, @oliviah-25,

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes x reader #bucky barnes/reader #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #buck barnes imagine #marvel imagine #falcon #falcon and the winter soldier imagine #fatws #fatws x reader #falcon and the winter soldier x reader #captain america imagine #avengers imagine #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagine

[ginnsbaker]

Bulletproof (2/?)

Summary: A continuation of this (You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell). Now that Wanda has offered to share her room, things get... a bit complicated.

Chapter word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Sharing A Bed, Mutual Pining, Wanda catches you in a very compromising position, Unresolved Sexual Tension

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Series Masterlist

-

Sharing a room with Wanda Maximoff is not as trivial as it sounds.

The first night, her bed seems almost too big, especially for two people who don't know each other very well. Throughout the night, you’re acutely conscious of every movement, ensuring that you remain on your designated side, even if it means dangling one leg off the bed for balance.

On the second night, after realizing she'd unknowingly snuggled up to you during her sleep, she suggests putting a pillow in the middle–kind of like a boundary, you guess. The two of you share a light-hearted chuckle over the idea, yet a rosy hue stubbornly lingers on both your faces until one of you eventually heads out for breakfast.

Nights turn into mornings and that big bed starts feeling, well, not so big anymore. You both take to this pillow-in-the-middle setup, treating it like some sort of teddy bear you both have a claim to. It becomes an unspoken agreement, almost like a cozy buffer that you both secretly enjoy. Both of you would hold onto it, sometimes playfully tugging it toward your side.

On the seventh day, shortly after midnight, you feel a subtle shift as Wanda’s fingers, which were draped over the pillow, find their way to your waist. It's just a slight touch, but it sends your senses into overdrive. And as the fog of drowsiness lifts, you become acutely aware of every point of contact between you two.

The covers, which up until now felt just right, suddenly start to feel oppressively warm. Turning your head slightly, you can make out the silhouette of her face, bathed in the soft light filtering through the curtains. You're struck by the details—the curve of her cheek, the demure slope of her nose, her slightly parted lips. She's mesmerizing. You feel an undeniable urge to reach out and touch, to feel the softness of her skin, but you resist. 

You think about shifting her hand back onto the pillow, but then, there's this part of you, perhaps the bolder side, that wants it to stay there. So, you let it stay, taking shallow breaths, hoping your racing heart doesn't wake her up.

You pull the covers tighter around you, trying to shake the thoughts, but it's no use. 

All you can think about is the girl sleeping soundly beside you, and the night stretches on endlessly ahead.

-

You were supposed to get your own room, but honestly? It's taking a while, and you're not even sure you want it anymore.

There's something about Wanda's nighttime habits that you've come to love: the way she snores just a bit, the way some of her things would rattle around her when she’s having an intense dream, the scent of her shampoo when she washes her hair before bed, the subtle movements she makes when you know she has a hard time falling asleep. 

And there's that special moment each morning: You always seem to stir just moments before her. Like clockwork, her eyes flutter open, and in that half-awake daze, she’d murmur a “Good morning.” 

Yet, as this unexpected cohabitation with Wanda unfolds, a nagging thought keeps pricking at the back of your mind:

This delightful domestic bubble has an expiration date.

You know you shouldn't get too attached. But you're probably way past that now.

-

Which is why, to seemingly guard yourself, you pester Steve at dinner. 

“So, Steve, any word on my room?” you casually drop the question one evening, trying to keep the tone light. Across the table, Wanda's attention diverts from her lasagna to the conversation at hand, silently watching the exchange.

Steve, looking a tad weary, responds, “Honestly? I'm not sure. And you've brought this up, what, three times today?”

“Maybe if Tony actually replied to my messages, we wouldn't be having this chat every mealtime,” you argue, mindlessly twirling your fork around your pasta.

Before Steve can retort, Wanda intervenes. “If you're worried about overstaying in my space, you haven't. It's been...nice, having you there.”

Your cheeks flame up, a quick surge of heat that’s impossible to ignore. The sudden candidness in her words catches you off guard. For a moment, you're tongue-tied, searching for a response. She, too, seems taken aback by her own candor, her eyes widening a fraction.

“I-I mean, I don't mind…” she says, trying to recover from her prior lapse. She then diverts her attention, a little flustered, burying herself in her plate.

“Maybe we can set up a rota? You know, split the week between Natasha and Wanda's rooms?” Steve suggests.

From across the table, Natasha halts, shawarma in hand, and deadpans, “Since when was my room up for discussion?”

Your focus, however, remains fixed on Wanda. “It's not about that, Wanda,” you reply earnestly. “It’s just... we all need our space, right?”

Something shifts in Wanda's eyes, a flicker of disappointment perhaps, but before you can fully process it, she masks it with indifference. “I'm sorry,” she murmurs, starting to collect her plate with only a few bites missing from her lasagna. “I thought you were in a rush because of... well, me.”

You stare at her, momentarily stunned, with a growing urge to apologize. The dinner table suddenly feels miles long. 

Clearing your throat, you muster, “Wanda, it's not like that.”

She pauses, looking back at you, waiting. 

“I just thought it might be easier for both of us,” you say, cringing as the words don't quite capture your intended sentiment.

Her face tightens further, her demeanor chilling by several degrees. “You're right,” she replies, voice sharp and edged. “It might be easier for you.” 

Without another word, she stands up and leaves.

In the aftermath of Wanda's exit, an oppressive silence descends, punctuated only by the occasional scrape of cutlery on porcelain. Vision, always a touch out of step with human nuances, arches an eyebrow at Bucky. “Is there a particular reason the air's grown so dense?”

Before Bucky can answer, Natasha leans back, shooting you a pointed look. 

“By the way,” she drawls, pausing for emphasis. “My room has an exclusive guest list. Only one name on it–mine,” she says and then nonchalantly bites at her meat wrap, clearly having said her piece.

The room's temperature seems to further drop another few degrees following Natasha's remark. Steve shoots you a sympathetic glance while Bucky suppresses a smirk, amused at the drama unfolding.

Trying to bring a semblance of normalcy back, Sam quips, “Well, at this rate, I might start charging for bunking in my room. Any takers?”

You can't help but force a chuckle, silently thanking him for the attempt to lighten the mood. However, Wanda's departure and Natasha’s dry humor leave you pondering whether sharing a room might have been the better option after all.

-

For two nights straight, you avoid the Avenger's compound. 

Instead, you dip into your personal savings from past missions, booking yourself into a plush hotel downtown. The suite boasts modern amenities and a bed that critics might describe as 'a cloud'. 

Yet, for all its luxury, it feels...empty.

The Egyptian cotton sheets, while soft to the touch, are cold. The lavish bathroom, with its marble counters, feels too sterile. The room, while spacious, feels too silent. Deafeningly so.

Gone are the soft snores, the slight movement of a shared bed, and the comforting scent of Wanda's evening shampoo. All replaced by a void that no amount of luxury can fill. Your heart aches, not for the lack of comfort, but for the lack of connection.

(The lack of a… friend. Maybe after nights of sleeping side by side, it’s fair to think of her as such.)

And as another sleepless night passes in the hotel, you find yourself wishing for the simplicity of that pillow barrier, the steady rhythm of Wanda's breathing, and the tender sound of her voice whispering, “Good morning.”

It's high time to step out of this lavish prison and head back to the compound. 

More importantly, it's time to apologize to Wanda, something you should've done in the first place.

-

Pushing open the door to Wanda's room, you anticipate her familiar, mischievous smirk. Instead, a deafening silence surrounds you. The only telltale sign of her absence is the disarray of her belongings, possibly from prepping for an unexpected mission.

You have been looking forward to seeing her all day, unsure if she'd even welcome you back. Just as you consider heading elsewhere to find her, Vision suddenly steps out from a room further down the corridor.

“Wanda’s not here,” you state rather than ask.

“She's still in the debriefing room. The mission ran long, and discussions have been... extensive,” Vision offers, his head tilt subtle but noticeable, making you very much aware of his ability to read more than just your face.

You run a hand through your hair, weary. “Any idea how much longer?”

He seems to ponder, “At the rate they’re going? An hour, maybe more.”

The day's exhaustion settles on you, making your skin feel sticky and tired. You reason that perhaps Wanda might be more inclined to speak with you if you're freshened up and smelling good. With this thought, you let out a soft sigh, nodding in gratitude to Vision. 

Slipping back into Wanda’s room and absentmindedly neglecting to lock the door, you dive into the shower without waiting for the water to warm up, welcoming its brisk, invigorating sting against your tired skin. It’s surprisingly intimate to be using Wanda's products again after days without them, and you try not to think about how it all feels a bit... like home.

Several minutes later, wrapped in a towel with droplets still clinging to your skin, you pad over to your side of the bed. The damp cold from your hair seeping through the towel sends a chill down your spine, but the softness of Wanda's sheets beckon. You can't resist the temptation any longer and, with a soft thud, you flop down.

The moment you sink into the mattress, Wanda's familiar scent envelops you, a comforting blend of jasmine and something uniquely her. Closing your eyes, you realize just how much you've missed her–not just the shared bed or the late-night whispers, but the girl herself. 

The heart of it all.

Every thought of Wanda makes your heartbeat a tad bit faster. Your skin, slightly damp from the shower, feels hypersensitive against the silky sheets that smell so much like her. Every thread seems to graze your skin, reminding you of the presence you're currently missing.

Your thoughts start to shift, moving past innocent interactions you’ve had with Wanda so far. You’re now wondering if Wanda ever touched herself in this very same bed. If her fingers have lazily brushed against her core to thoughts of you, the way you’re doing now to thoughts of her. You wonder if she likes to tease herself, if she likes to pay attention to her clit or prefers to stuff herself with her own fingers.

You pull a pillow close, not just as a makeshift barrier, but as an anchor to steady the rush of arousal coursing through your body. But instead of calming you down, it sends you over the edge and deeper into your unchecked desires. The pillow is no longer just a fluffy companion; it becomes a stand-in for her–for Wanda.

You shouldn’t be doing this. Especially not on the bed that belongs to the woman you’re imagining as you throw a leg over the unsuspecting pillow. In the midst of your internal conflict, your thighs still part to welcome the plush material as you’re about to lose all sense of control. 

But the universe seems to have its own way of snapping you out of questionable choices. 

Just as you're about to succumb to the overwhelming sensations, the door slams open. With a startled yelp, you topple off the bed, the towel that's your only semblance of decency barely holding on. The pillow, now a poor victim to your previous intentions, gets clutched to your chest in a frantic attempt to salvage some dignity.

There, framed in the doorway, is Wanda. Her eyes wide, an unreadable expression on her face. You've never wished for the ground to swallow you up more than you do in this mortifying moment. Your face heats up, unsure if you could ever look Wanda in the eyes again after this. 

And just when you think it couldn’t get any worse, she speaks.

“Um... did I interrupt something?” Wanda asks, her voice teetering between amusement and genuine curiosity. She's trying, and failing, to hide a smirk.

You, on the other hand, are a mess of jumbled words and embarrassment. “I- I was just... It's not what it looks like,” you say, but the evidence around you paints a pretty distinct picture.

Wanda raises an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching upwards. “Really? Because from here, it looks pretty... interesting.”

You groan, burying your face in the pillow for a moment, the very one that betrayed you. “Can we just forget this ever happened?”

She chuckles, her earlier tension from the debriefing room (and the tension with you from days earlier) seeming to melt away in the face of your predicament. “Oh, I'm not sure I can. It's not every day I find someone... bonding with my pillow in such a way.”

Caught in a compromising situation with Wanda taking it all in, you cover your face with your hands. “I, um, Wanda, I apologize," you manage to stammer out, each word dripping with mortification.

She cocks her head, studying you. “It's... alright,” she murmurs, her gaze penetrating and elusive.  In any other circumstance, you might've caught the faint trail her eyes make over your partially exposed form, but right now, anxiety shrouds your every thought.

You bite your lip, the action causing Wanda’s breath to hitch. 

“Can I... could you give me a moment? Just to... get dressed?” you ask.

Wanda nods, her lips curving into a small, understanding smile. “Of course,” She takes a step back, her fingers brushing against the door frame. “Just... maybe lock the door next time?”

You chuckle weakly, nodding. “Definitely noted.”

Once alone in the room again, a ragged exhale escapes your lips. You immediately get to your feet, scrambling for your suitcase to find something–anything–that will save you from the most embarrassing moment of your life.

Outside the room, Wanda leans against the hallway wall, her fingers absentmindedly tapping against the cool surface. The image of what she had walked into replays in her mind, sending tingles down her spine. 

She feels the urge to peer into your head, see who’s starring in your wildest fantasies.

If she wants, she can find out. 

But there's a line she knows she shouldn't cross, especially with teammates. Swallowing hard, Wanda decides to afford you the space and privacy to compose yourself.

Her reverie is broken by your voice, somewhat muted by the wall between you both. “I'm decent now,” you say, a touch of sheepishness clear in your tone. 

For a moment, Wanda hesitates, her fingers hovering inches from the door handle. Taking a fortifying breath, she turns the knob and steps into the room. 

“I'm so sorry,” you say as soon the door shuts with a soft click behind Wanda, eyes cast downward. The oversized Pikachu shirt you're wearing is probably the last thing she expected to see on you. Under different circumstances, she might have teased you about it.

Wanda shakes her head and smirks, crossing her arms in front of her. “Apologies for the pillow?”

“For what happened three days ago, during dinner. I never meant to offend you,” you say, still looking down.

Her eyes narrow, adopting a casual demeanor. “Offend me? I'm not sure what you're talking about.”

Risking a glance up, your eyes meet Wanda's, searching for a hint of the resentment or anger you're expecting. Instead, you find a relaxed, almost indifferent look in her eyes. No hint of upset, no sign of offense taken. Her nonchalance takes you aback.

“You know,” she muses, her tone light, “You were so caught up in your thoughts that you stayed away from this room for days.”

“Did I read the situation wrong?” you wonder aloud feeling a little foolish now that it seems you were reading into things too much.

Wanda shrugs her shoulders, her playful smirk returning. “Perhaps you're overthinking things a bit. Honestly, if I was truly offended, I would've said something. As for wanting space,” she continues, her gaze drifting over to the tousled sheets, “I didn't think it was a big deal.”

Swallowing your surprise, a tiny smile forms on your lips. Maybe, just maybe, you've been looking at the entire situation wrong. Maybe the pillow barrier, the shared space, and the soft morning greeting weren't as loaded with meaning as you thought. 

Maybe, with Wanda, things were just simpler.

And yet, somehow, you’re disappointed by that possibility.

It means she doesn’t care if you get your room sooner or later. 

It means she wouldn’t miss you as much as you would when you permanently get to sleep in your own bed.

“So… we’re good?” you ask tentatively.

Wanda simply nods. An awkward silence quickly follows and your attention is inadvertently drawn to the pillow strewn aside, its memory fresh and horrifying.

“Uh, nothing happened, but,” you say, coughing into your fist nervously. “I’ll make sure to wash that pillow.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #vision

[hotreadingwitch]

Bucky x Reader x Steve - Siberia Pt.2

Content Warnings/Kinks: angst, threesome, non-consensual filming, sex pollen! (as consensual as possible for this trope!), hickeys, hair pulling, breast play, choking, face slapping, spanking, praise kink, degradation, cum swallowing, oral sex (female receiving), anal fingering, double penetration, unprotected vaginal sex, unprotected anal sex

Siberia Pt.2 

“Ass up doll” 

Y/n’s brain took about two or three seconds to process Bucky’s seductive command. 

“And what if I don’t want you?” she glared back at him. 

He pulled her forward, using the metal hand around her throat, his grip as he growled menacingly, “C’mon, don’t get shy on us now…”

She gulped loudly, Bucky no doubt feeling her throat bob with the small movement. Y/n felt that the anger simmering within her, at both the men, was so confused with her feelings of pure lust that she could barely think. She wanted them and they both knew it, no matter how much she tried to hide how she really felt. It was for that reason, and that reason alone, that their dangerous presence simply didn’t scare her. 

Steve slipped a gentle hand down her front, unzipping her Avengers suit, the cool metal scratching against her bare skin below. Without hesitation, she pushed the fabric aside and down her body so that she was completely undressed before them. 

“Fuck” Steve groaned, the sight of her breasts, her ass. Every single curve made his cock rock hard again. He came close to her, his cool, wandering hands making her skin break out in goosebumps and her nipples pebble as he touched her. A second pair of lips landed on her neck then, making her arch into his touch as Bucky growled against her skin, “So beautiful doll, fucking perfect” 

They pleased her, Steve attacking her chest as Bucky warmed up her neck and jaw, peppering her with harsh kisses, until she was spread on the bed with her ass in the air, close to the edge. 

“That’s more like it” Bucky’s feral grin was practically evil. 

And with that, a quick, painful smack landed on her exposed ass. 

“Bucky” Y/n cried out, unable to stop the small, needy whine that followed after his name.

Steve settled between her legs from behind, spreading her ass cheeks in one greedy motion. 

“Please tell me I can taste you” he practically whimpered, his need evident. 

“Yes—Steve, yes please” she begged, earning her another sharp smack on the ass. She knew she’d done nothing wrong, that no punishment was technically needed, in fact, she figured Bucky simply liked the fact that he could make her feel pain knowing that she liked it, craved it even. The sharp feeling was quickly washed away by the feeling of Steve’s tongue on her, first warming up her hole, then her folds, before finally reaching her desperate clit. 

“Shit” she whined, her voice breathy and tight. 

He lapped at her pussy, making her slicker and slicker by the second. She whined, arching her back until she was bent at an unnatural angle, grinding onto his tongue. Y/n gripped the sheets, unable to stop how her insides clenched around nothing the more Steve played with her. 

“Fucking look at you” Bucky’s taunts punctured the heady feeling of Steve’s pleasure, “So so needy, such a good little slut for us. Isn’t that right Steve?” 

Steve dipped down, moaning on her pussy when his lips connected with her now drenched hole, “You taste so good baby, so good” 

“I know just what you need…” Bucky’s voice was low and gravelly, borderline dangerous, “Tensing so hard like that, moaning for us like you are, you just need something inside you, don’t you?” 

Steve lapped and lapped at her clit, not once stopping, even as Bucky teased her, making her cheeks flare with heat. His hands, both metal and flesh, caressed the sensitive skin of her ass. Her body was practically on fire, her loud moans both needy and desperate. But it was what he said next that truly made her eyes widen, 

“You want a finger in your ass doll?” 

Y/n groaned graphically, the mere thought of it doing dangerous things to her sense of control over her body, “I—I’ve never, I haven’t…” 

“Fuck—” Bucky groaned, “I bet it’s so fucking tight, you’ll be so good and tight. Can I doll?” 

“Yes—fucking do it” she groaned, gasping immediately as a wet finger pushed against the entrance to her asshole, “Shittt” 

Bucky swirled the wetness around her puckered asshole, before pushing into her, pressing until he was inside her up to his knuckle. 

“Breathe baby” Steve broke off of her to say just as Bucky cursed, his words a strained huff. 

“Keep licking her” Bucky ordered, compassionless as he pressed his finger further inside. 

She tightened around him, gripping his finger, moaning simply at the feeling of his long finger. He curled it within her then, hitting a spot inside her that she had never once explored before. Bucky chuckled darkly as if the pleasureful feeling of his single, thick finger was just a taste of what was to come… 

“Bucky—shit that’s so good” she squirmed.

SMACK 

Another spank made her ass shake with the harsh motion. Three sensations, three wonderful sensations overwhelmed her and she knew she’d burst soon, much too soon. She pushed Steve’s mouth away, 

“I need you to fuck me, now, right now, or I’m gonna cum” 

Bucky slipped his long finger out of her, making her moan at the loss before they quickly shifted into a new position. Steve tucked himself further up the bed, allowing her to lay herself over him so that their chests were pressed against each other, her knees digging into the bedsheets on either side of him. Their change left Bucky behind her, ready and hard at the edge of the mattress.

“Buck, come closer” Steve ordered, his voice possessing an uncharacteristically hard edge. He smirked darkly when Y/n hesitated, whispering softly into the shell of her ear, “I know you want him baby…so badly. Open your mouth and show him just how much you want his cock inside you”

Bucky came around to her side as Y/n parted her lips, for the second time, allowing him to graze her bottom lip with his finger. Without taking her eyes off of him she sucked on it obediently. She tightened her mouth around him then, moaning on his skin, causing him to grunt, his voice strained, “That’s enough.” She sucked harder, purposefully disobeying, only for him to grab at her face from behind, securing his metal hand tightly on her jaw, “I said that’s enough doll” 

She nodded her head then, finally letting him pull his finger out of her mouth. SMACK. This time the sting was on her right cheek. 

“Fuck me” she bit out, her eyes practically slits as she stared him down, “I fucking dare you” 

“Yeah?” He taunted, his glare even deadlier than hers as he moved back to the edge of the mattress, “I bet you’d like that wouldn’t you? Such a fucking whore” 

Y/n whimpered at his words, not that that stopped him from teasing her. 

SMACK

“I think you need something more Y/n, more than just me or just Steve…” She felt Steve kiss her neck from below as her eyes widened with the realization, “Yeah that's it, you need us both inside you, filling up those tight fucking holes. Is that what you want doll?” 

“Yes” she admitted, tearing her gaze away from his piercing blue eyes. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and slide into her now” he ordered Steve then adding with a growl as he moved back in place behind her. His hands caressed her back as he slid into her, running slowly up and down her sensitive skin, making her shiver. Her body arched upward as if she could get away from the onslaught of pleasure, the feeling of his size making her literally gasp out loud. 

“Steve” she whimpered, turning her head to look back at him.

“That’s it, baby, keep being good, keep taking it for me” he groaned as he pressed himself fully inside her. 

“How does she feel Steve?” Bucky’s voice was dark with lust. 

“So fucking good Buck—she’s such a good girl” 

“Yeah, she really is” 

Y/n ground herself up and down on Steve as he thrust, trying to stay at a slow pace so that he wouldn’t overwhelm her too suddenly. 

“Fuck you feel so good” She brushed her hair over her shoulder and out of her face only for Bucky to grasp the strands from behind, pulling her head back so that her back arched even more, “Shit—yes” 

Steve thrust and thrust, bouncing her simultaneously on his cock, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the iron cage. His entire length would sheath itself deep inside her only to pull out right to the tip and repeat the movement again and again and again. She whimpered at the building pleasure in her gut. 

“Bucky please” she begged, a small whimper escaping her lips. 

“Come on, you’re a smart girl doll, I know you can use your words…tell me what you want” 

“I want you in my ass, please” 

Steve pulled out then, her head disoriented by the loss of feeling. A second later, she felt Bucky’s metal fingers gathering her slick directly from her dripping pussy. The sound of wetness filled the cage as he spread her juices on his cock. She looked back over her shoulder just in time to see his now-drenched cock push into her from behind. Slowly, Bucky slid his tip into her, the first inch of his bulge making her cry out. The pain ebbed almost instantly, replaced with unbelievable pleasure as he continued to press himself into her.

After a couple of slow but deep thrusts, Bucky motioned for Steve to enter her again. When he did, her eyes rolled back into her head. 

“Fucking hell” she swore as the pleasure threatened to rise up again.

“Can you keep taking it doll?” Steve asked as he pushed further into her the motion coating his cock in her slick. 

“She can take it Steve” Bucky answered for her with a smirk, “You’re a good little slut right Y/n?”

SMACK 

“I’m good, yes—fuck—you both feel so good”

“Did you hear that Steve?” Bucky responded with a dark chuckle.

Y/n couldn’t care less about Bucky’s teasing. All she could focus on was the feeling of both their long, hard cocks thrusting deep within her. 

“Faster” she begged, one arm supporting her weight while the other gripped Steve’s blond hair tightly. 

Their eyes darkened at her command, instantly thrusting into her again at the same time, both filling her fully, and deeply. She arched back, making Bucky grunt before grinding down, causing Steve to groan. Steve reached down then, his fingers rubbing tight circles around her clit. It was as if, with the addition of that pleasure her orgasm had no choice but to rise up quickly within her. Y/n felt every movement like it was fire on her already hot skin, and felt the pleasure everywhere within her. 

“Shit she’s gonna—“ Steve’s words were interrupted by Y/n’s loud moan. 

The feeling rose dangerously fast, coming up through her body like a firework getting lit on the Fourth of July. The intensity of it threatened to make her fully collapse on top of Steve, her arms shaking. As if he could sense her dilemma, Bucky’s hands gripped her waist from behind, holding her up. The feelings were overwhelming but in the very best way, like her body was fighting an endless battle over which epic sensation to focus on the most.

“Oh I’m cumming I’m cumming” she croaked breathily as they fucked into both of her holes while she rubbed her clit.

The two men cursed as her holes tensed up, so tight that the constricting movement threatened to push them right out of her. Nothing could hold them back though as Y/n’s throbbing pussy sent them both over the edge. They thrust and thrust and thrust, pushing them to their orgasms and Y/n through hers. She sighed, her head burrowing into Steve’s neck as the waves washed away, finally giving her a clearer head and the ability to breathe normally again. 

“Steve…?” She questioned, hissing as he pulled out of her. 

But she was still full, Bucky was still inside her. She turned back to glare at him, the realization of what they’d just done suddenly crystal clear. He pulled out, leaving her feeling empty. As Y/n looked around she realized the air in the cage was back to normal, no trance of the hazy yellow fog that had muddled their minds. 

“What the fuck have we done?” She asked aloud. 

“Ruined the Avengers once and for all…” an ominous voice answered her query through the speaker system.  

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