#steve thinks he’s alright he’s got the angle he’s got the muscle he’s got a grip on him

[imthursdaysyme]

Final installment of the wrestlers 3/3: Steve runs his 5’8 mouth

#drawing #art #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fanart #Steve was probably running his mouth as he is aught to do talking bout how Eddie’s a beanpole looking ass and probably falls over when he #throws a ball like he’s on loony toons and so obv Eddie is like oh boy you just ran your short ass into the ground and lunges #steve thinks he’s alright he’s got the angle he’s got the muscle he’s got a grip on him #but Eddie grabs a thigh and wraps his arm around his chest and suddenly Steve’s flying #he thought he saw god or the light he was sure he had died cause how did his big ass self end up airborne? #but no it was just Eddie and his long ass legs and he said up up and away short stack #Eddie needs steve to know he can pick him up and doesn’t ever let him forget it

[eiightysixbaby]

older! eddie finally having enough of reader calling him old man and he decides to show her how much of an old man he really is😏😏😏

“old man yeah?” he says grinning ear to ear when you whine pathetically underneath him, “wanna say that again?” he coos

18+ only pleaaaase!

The ball rolls down the lane, heavy and awkward, knocking into the pins and only sending a couple falling.

“That was possibly the worst throw of the night, Munson!” Robin says, smiling proudly when Eddie glares at her.

He groans, swiveling his arm to stretch out his shoulder.

“Not fair, this shit used to be easy. ‘S fuckin’ killing my shoulder tonight,” he comments, picking up his bottle of beer and clinking it with the top of Steve’s in a sort of pity toast to his bad turn.

“Oh, come on, old man!” you tease, standing to take your turn. You pick up your bowling ball from the bunch, giving Eddie a devious glance. “Let me show you how it’s done, sans any shoulder pain or back pain or pain in any other body part,” you smirk, earning a laugh from Steve.

“Ouch,” he says. “She’s got you there, Ed. Shoulder pain, really? When we’re not even halfway through this game.”

“Oh fuck off, Harrington. Wasn’t it two nights ago I saw you buying Epsom salts complaining about sore muscles? From a day at the pool with your kids?”

“Listen, the amount of times I had to pick them up and toss them into the water—”

You giggle, letting the two of them bicker as you take your turn. You let the ball go in a more elegant manner than Eddie, standing at the end of the lane as you wait to see the outcome. Sure enough, all ten pins fall with a scattered crash, and you bounce up and down eagerly.

“Woo!” Robin and Steve cheer, Eddie rolling his eyes as you high-five them.

“Alright, sweetheart, so you think you’re the superior bowler?” he asks, pulling you against him.

“I know I am, old man,” you draw out the last two words, pressing a polished finger to his chest. “Unless you really think you can show me up. But I wouldn’t want you hurting that shoulder while you try,” you pout, seeing the way the look in his eyes changes at your teasing. “Can’t have you doing too much… physical activity.”

“Alright, so that’s how you want to be, hm?” he asks, his voice low. “Just wait ‘til we get home, darling.”

The comment makes you shiver, his figure slipping away from you as soon as the words are out of his mouth. You watch him leave to get another drink, your mouth slightly agape as film reels run through your head, showcasing the activities that probably await you when you return home. Chewing on your lip, you return to your seat next to Robin, knowing full well you’re going to get under Eddie’s skin as much as you possibly can before the night is over.

Stumbling through the door just before midnight, a couple shitty bowling-alley-bar mixed drinks in your system, Eddie’s got his finger hooked in the waistband of your too-tight jeans, pulling you into him.

“That was real fucking cute, the way you kept mocking me all night,” he rasps, his warm breath fanning your ear, his lips barely grazing the shell of it. “If I had to hear you call me an old man one more time, I swear I was going to put you in the car and fuck you right there in the parking lot,” he says, kissing at your jaw.

You whine a little, tilting your head to the side to allow him better access.

“This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” he asks, knowing the answer.

“Ed—” you pant, trying to paw at the buckle on his jeans.

“It is, god of course it’s what you wanted. I know your angles, baby,” he purrs, his voice dripping with lust.

He presses a hot kiss to your mouth, his tongue licking against your teeth. Your hands climb up his back, clawing at the fabric of his shirt as if your plan is to rip it off of him. He picks you up, carrying you down the hallway without breaking the kiss. He’s tossing you on the bed before he pulls his shirt off, exposing his modest muscles from years of hard work at the shop. You never tire of looking at the tattoos that decorate his pale skin, the ink fading with time.

He’s undoing his belt while you’re stripping bare on his bed, feeling your face heat when you catch him staring at your tits.

“Damn, I’m going to fuck the absolute shit out of you tonight,” he breathes, smiling boyishly, betraying his age despite the soft wrinkles in his face.

“Are you?” you ask, one final taunt, pushing him over the edge.

“Oh, sweetheart. G’na have you crying for me,” he says, moving to hover on top of you on the bed. “You’re not gonna be able to fucking walk tomorrow,” he murmurs, nipping at your earlobe.

It’s quick and without warning when he slips two fingers inside of you, making you mewl as your hands tangle in his hair. He curls them expertly, he knows your body like the back of his hand by now, knows exactly what to do to have you screaming for him.

His eager mouth licks and sucks on your breasts, tugging your nipples gently with his teeth as your back arches. Your body accepts a third finger from him easily, sucking him right in as wet, filthy noises fill the bedroom.

“Eddie,” you whine, already on the edge of your orgasm. Your breathing is heavy, eyes pinched shut beneath him as he works you to your breaking point.

You cum around his fingers with a cry, body shaking violently as he works you through it. You feel like you’re on fire, his touch igniting every inch of you. All you want is more.

“Old man, huh?” Eddie muses as you come down from your first high of the evening. “Looks like this old man still knows how to please. So do you wanna call me that again, sweetheart?”

You shake your head, knowing you’re already in for quite the night.

“Good,” he says, dipping down to kiss your lips, your jaw, your neck. “Cause we’re just getting started.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #older!eddie munson #older!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #leah’s got mail 💌

[temptingfatetakingnames]

The Last Steve Harrington Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Eddie was sitting close, angled towards Steve, their legs touching. He reached out and trailed his fingers down Steve’s face like he always did, eyes soft and intent on the action. Then he reached under his hair and pulled his necklace over his head. He looked at it for a moment before holding it out to him. Steve didn’t understand, did Eddie want him to see it up close? He played with it enough when he was lying on his chest that he knew what it looked like.

“You’re mine now and I’m never leaving you. That’s a promise.”

Steve looked up in surprise. That’s what Wayne had said when he gave it to Eddie. Was Eddie giving it to him? Eddie smiled at his confusion, held it closer to him and nodded. Steve reached out with trembling fingers –

A red sky rolled behind his eyes and the dream changed to a nightmare.

– Blood dribbled out of the sides of his mouth; he was trying to speak even though he could barely breathe. His brown eyes were wide with pain, and Steve held him to his chest.

“You’re –” Eddie stopped and coughed up more blood.

“Shh, Eds. Don’t talk,” Steve cried.

“You’re mine now –” Eddie was desperately trying to get the words out but the blood kept coming.

“Please,” Steve begged. “Please don’t leave me. I love you. Please!” His voice broke and his vision blurred with tears.

Eddie’s breath was ragged but he kept trying to speak. “I’m never – I’m never leaving you,” he gasped out.

Steve waited for the words - for the promise.

But he didn’t finish.

Didn’t promise.

Because Eddie Munson died.

A gasp tore out of Steve’s throat, the sheets were tangled around his legs and he struggled to free himself. His heart was pounding and sweat clung to his body. He crawled out of the bed on shaky legs and went to the hallway, listening to see if he had woken anyone up. Silence greeted him. Sitting back down he tried to calm himself but his hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He remembered the feeling of Eddie’s body in his arms, his blood on his hands.

Steve covered his mouth as another sob broke free. He closed his eyes tightly.

Eddie was smiling at him widely, dimples showing and eyes crinkled at the corners…

Steve shook his head as memories overwhelmed him. Eddie laughing chaotically in his passenger seat, Eddie playing DnD with the kids, Eddie in his Scoops uniform, Eddie kissing his knuckles, Eddie sleeping beside him, Eddie with blood on his lips, Eddie’s eyes filled with love, Eddie’s eyes staring up at him, lifeless.

Fuck.

He got dressed quickly and made his way downstairs. He needed to know that Eddie was alright. He was already halfway out of the door when he stopped to wonder if his and this Eddie’s phone numbers were the same.

He went over to the phone hanging on the wall, picked it up and dialed quickly from muscle memory before he had time to think more about it. The ringing in his ear was loud, but his heartbeat was louder as he waited.

“Hello?” the voice came through strong and clear. Steve didn’t speak, didn’t have anything to say, had just needed to hear his voice.

“Hello?” Eddie drew out the word in a singsong. Steve still didn’t reply. “Alright, who the hell is this?”

Steve closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. He wished Eddie would keep talking but knew that he was going to hang up soon if Steve didn’t say anything. It was so good to hear him.

“Steve?” Eddie asked gently, softly. In a blind panic Steve slammed the phone back onto the receiver on the wall, his heart pounding fast again.

He didn’t want to go back to sleep, afraid of what he would see in his dreams. There was still a lingering feeling of panic that was threatening to erupt and he didn’t want to be in the house if it happened. He didn’t want to wake the kids up or scare them again. After closing the front door behind him as quietly as he could, he started walking in the direction of the gas station that was open all night and sold alcohol. If it was the same in this universe, anyway.

It was late and the streets were quiet again. The walk didn’t take long and the gas station was mercifully open. The fluorescent lights in the store hurt his eyes but he went to the back fridge and grabbed a bottle of vodka and a six pack of beer. At the counter he pulled out Other Steve’s wallet and showed the bored attendant his I.D.

“Harrington? The missing Harrington?” The attendant was more awake now as he looked between the I.D. and Steve, a shocked expression on his young face. Instead of answering, Steve slapped some money down and snatched the card back before grabbing his stuff and booking it out of there.

Out in the night, he thought about where he could go where he wouldn’t be found or disturbed. There was a spot in the woods behind his house that he used to spend a lot of time at, especially when his parents were home. It was as good a place as any to drink alone. Walking up to the house was strange, he didn’t know if Other Steve’s parents still lived there. There were cars in the driveway that he didn’t recognize so he doubted it. He figured they had left Hawkins when everything went down and hadn’t come back.

He skirted the property of the house and slipped into the woods. It was dark but he knew the way and the moon offered just enough light. He found the old oak tree that had branches low enough for easy climbing. He settled his booze on the lowest limb and then lifted himself up. After leaning against the thick trunk, he cracked the tab on a beer. The first sip was cold and delicious, and he quickly chugged the rest of the can.

He and Eddie had spent a lot of time here. Eddie had got so high once, he tried to climb further up the tree because ‘if the squirrels could do it, so could he.’ Unsurprisingly, he couldn’t climb as well as a squirrel and had fallen on his ass. This had been before they were together and Steve had taken his time patching Eddie up, using it as an excuse to touch him way more than had been necessary. The memory was painful and Steve realized his mistake in coming here too late as more memories flooded him.

Eleven asking for advice on how to grow out her hair, Will coming to him after he and Eddie got together, helping Lucas with basketball practice, shopping with Mike for birthday gifts for Eleven, teaching Max how to cook, movie nights and sleepovers with Dustin where they talked about everything and nothing.

And Eddie… Always Eddie.

Along with the happier moments came the memories of fire and death and blood. Watching Eleven bleed from her nose and thrash in a seizure, Mike getting thrown aside by Vecna, Will getting possessed by The Mind Flayer, Lucas and Max dying in each other’s arms, Dustin and Eddie getting torn apart by bats. All of them screaming, screaming, screaming.

And Steve… Watching it happen and doing nothing.

He hadn’t had a chance to grieve them, too busy trying to survive to let himself feel their loss. Survival wasn’t living though, and it wasn’t moving on. Now, all he had was time and memories. But they hurt. Oh, they hurt so goddamn much. Being numb was so much easier, he didn’t want to feel it. He didn’t want to feel any of it!

He shook his head and grabbed his hair in a painful grip. The memories needed to stop! He twisted the cap on the vodka and took the biggest swig he could handle. Fire scorched his throat as he swallowed. He kept drinking in the hope that it would stop his thoughts, stop his memories, stop his feelings.

He was on his way to a good buzz when he fell out of the tree, hitting the ground with a hard ‘oomph.’ He laughed; Eddie had done the same thing!

“Steve!”

He sat up and whipped his head around but didn’t see anyone. Had he really heard that?

“Steve!” He definitely heard it that time. Who would be out here looking for him?

“Steve…” A flashlight beamed into his face and he groaned and turned over, waving his arm at whoever it was to go away. Gentle hands started rubbing circles on his back and he shivered. Flipping over he saw Robin crouching beside him and Eddie standing off the side holding a flashlight.

“What are you two doing here? How do you know about my tree?” he slurred out.

Robin had a soft and tender look on her face. “Steve told me that he had a spot out here where he went to think. Eddie radioed me after he called Hopper.”

Steve. Steve. Steve. The same and oh so different Steve. He hated him.

He gathered himself and tried to stand, but he was shaky from the alcohol and his fall. A hand reached down into his line of vision, silver rings flashing in the moonlight. It was a beautiful hand. Steve looked up into Eddie’s face. It was a beautiful face.

Wait. What had Robin said?

“You called Hopper and radioed? Why did you do that?” Steve whined. The kids were probably up and out looking for him!

Eddie wiggled his fingers in front of his face, still wanting to help him stand up.

“I was worried! You didn’t say anything on the phone. I called back but Hopper answered, not you. He said you were gone so I radioed Robin.”

Steve sighed and grabbed his hand. Eddie yanked him up hard and Steve stumbled into him, hands reaching out to steady himself on his waist. He smelled like Eds. Steve leaned into him for a brief moment, chasing the scent before het let go and moved back. His face felt warm and he was grateful for the darkness.

“Let’s get you home,” Robin said as she stood up from her crouch.

Steve winced. Home. Home was a desolate wasteland where everyone he loved was dead. Home wasn’t the Hopper-Byers’ house. He didn’t deserve it to be. He shook his head and clutched his arms around himself.

Robin and Eddie shared a look.

“We can go back to mine,” Eddie volunteered. “Wayne’s gone for the night so we would have the place to ourselves.”

There would be memories there, too. Painful, beautiful memories. He couldn’t help but be curious about this Eddie’s place, though. He nodded at them.

Robin grabbed the rest of his beer and Eddie pointed the flashlight in front of them so they could walk out without tripping over tree roots. Steve was a little unsteady and Robin stayed close to his side. Eddie’s van was parked on the curb a few houses down from the old Harrington place. Steve crawled in the backseat and Robin got in the front. Eddie turned the key in the ignition and made a U-turn on the quiet street.

“If we’re going to hang out, we have to stop at my place so I can get some decent music, Munson,” Robin quipped.  

“You wouldn’t know decent music if it hit you in the face, Buckley,” Eddie shot back.

“Noise isn’t music! Steve, back me up here!”

Steve had tried his best to like Eddie’s music, but most of it was just too much for him. He liked a good beat and songs he could sing and dance to. Dio was alright, some Metallica and Iron Maiden but it would be nice to have more variety.

“We need to stop at Robin’s,” Steve agreed. Robin cheered and Eddie scowled.

“This is what I get for hanging out with jocks and band geeks.”

“Oh, because a metalhead DnD nerd is so much better?” Robin asked sarcastically.

“So much better, Buckley! So much better.”

The two of them fought over the radio the entire drive to Robin’s and Steve sat back and listened to them argue. Robin ran inside after they pulled up to her house and Eddie took the opportunity to switch the radio back to a station he liked. She was out again quickly, locking the door and lugging a huge backpack.

“I wrote my parents a note so I can stay the night,” she said as she slammed the car door and began rummaging in the bag. She pulled out a tape and popped into the tape deck while Eddie was reversing out of the driveway and couldn’t stop her.

A synth beat started playing that Steve immediately began bouncing his head to. A strong female voice sang about a material world.

“I like this! Who is it?” he asked.

Robin twisted so she could see over her seat and stared at him. “It’s Madonna, Steve.”

“Never heard of her! Is she new?”

Robin gawked at him before turning to look at Eddie who had an equally incredulous look on his face.

“Madonna? The pop icon?” Robin asked, turning back to him. Steve blinked at her. He had never heard of Madonna.  

“Put on Like a Virgin,” Eddie said. Robin fiddled with the radio, fast forwarding the tape to the part she wanted. Another song with a great beat filled the air. Steve liked it, but he had never heard it before either. He shook his head at her.

“I like it, but I don’t know it!” Steve said as he bounced his head to the beat.

“How can he not know Madonna?” Robin asked Eddie.

“She must not exist in his universe.”

Robin gasped. “I never thought of that!”

They spent the rest of the drive to Eddie’s place asking him about music. He knew most of the bands Robin brought up and some of Eddie’s. There was no way of knowing if he didn’t know them because he had just never been exposed to them or if they truly didn’t exist in his universe. When they pulled up to the trailer park, Robin popped the Madonna tape out and put it back in her bag.

Steve followed them into an unfamiliar trailer, his buzz had faded a bit from the walk and the drive so he was steadier on his feet.

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie said as he closed the door on his bedroom.

Robin settled on the floor next to the television and started looking at Eddie’s movies. Steve stared at the closed door before he went to sit with her. The radio was beside the television so he clicked it on. Wayne must have been listening to it last because it was set to a soft rock station.

Steve looked around the space – it was a bigger trailer than the one his Eddie and Wayne had lived in but he could still pick out small familiar details. The blanket on the couch, a mug on the counter, the hats on the wall. Eddie came back out shortly and grabbed cold beers out of the fridge. Steve turned back to Robin and noticed Rocky Horror was in her hands.

“I love that movie!” he exclaimed and Robin looked over at him with a surprised smile.

Eddie handed them beers and took the movie from her, popping it into the VHS player. Drinking rules were discussed quickly and they all settled in to watch. The trailer hadn’t triggered any memories and Steve was more relaxed than he expected to be. It felt normal, just a group of friends watching a movie and enjoying each other’s company.

When the Time Warp came on, Steve had bypassed buzzed completely and was well and truly drunk. He felt light and happy so he pulled Robin to her feet so they could do the dance together. She was smiling widely, singing and dancing with him as Eddie laughed at them from the couch. Robin tried to get him up to dance but he outright refused. He sang the song though, so Steve bet he knew the dance, he just didn’t want to admit it. When it was over, they collapsed onto the floor laughing. Steve closed his eyes as the room started spinning.

“I think I’m gunna be sick,” he murmured.  

“Me too,” Robin said beside him.

They looked at each other, blinking for a moment before they got up and ran for the bathroom. Robin got to the door first but Steve squeezed his way in with her. She fell to her knees in front of the toilet, heaving into the bowl. Steve settled between the toilet and the bathtub and took deep breaths. He didn’t want to hurl in the bathtub. Robin wiped her hand on her mouth and flushed before gesturing at Steve to take her place. He did, feeling better after emptying his stomach.

He leaned back against the wall and checked on Robin. She was looking at him with that soft, tender expression again and Steve was drunk enough to finally ask about the unspoken ghost between them.

“Tell me about Steve,” he said softly.

Robin took a deep breath and let it out before she started talking. Steve was complicated, she said, more complicated than most people gave him credit for. She told him a bit about what he was like in high school, how he started to change in ’83. How she met up with him again at Scoops Ahoy and slowly started to learn about who he really was and not who he had shown the world for most of his life. She told him about the Russians and how he had protected her, and that they became inseparable best friends after. She told him about the caring and protective side of him that only the people he called family ever got to see.

“I hated him, you know… before I really knew him. I thought he was a superficial douchebag with stupid hair and the girl I liked–” she cut herself off abruptly and stared at him wide-eyed.

“Liked him?” Steve finished and she nodded.

“Who was the girl?”

“Tammy Thompson,” she whispered.

“Tammy Thompson? Robin, she’s a total dud. Didn’t she want to be a singer or something? You could do way better than Tammy Thompson!”

It made Robin laugh, which was what he had hoped for but then she started crying – huge gasping sobs. Steve crawled across the floor so he was sitting beside her. She kept crying, so he put his arm around her and pushed her head onto his shoulder.

“It’s alright, Robin. Why are you crying?” he asked as he rubbed her arm. “I’m sorry I made a joke about it.”

She sniffed and looked up at him. Her eyes were bloodshot and her lips trembled but she smiled at him. “I’m just really glad you’re here, Steve.”

He swallowed and looked away. His feelings on being here were complicated. A messy mix of gratitude and shame. Peace and chaos. Beauty and pain. And through it all the overwhelming and all-consuming guilt. It was a second chance he hadn’t earned and didn’t deserve. He wasn’t Steve - complicated, protective, caring Steve. He couldn’t tell her he was glad to be here, but he could share something with her.

“I like both,” he said quietly.

“You like both?” she asked slowly, her brow scrunched in drunken confusion. He nodded and he could see the moment she understood. “You like both!” she exclaimed so happily that it made Steve laugh.

“Did your Steve…? –”

“Like both?” she finished for him and he nodded. A loud snort escaped her nose and she collapsed onto the floor with the giggles. He would take that as a no. Interesting…

Robin screamed, holding her hands over her face and rolling around a little. All of a sudden, she sat back up and crowded into his space. She pulled his necklace out of his shirt and stared at it like it held the secrets of the universe before slowly meeting his eyes. She looked like she was about to cry again. He shook his head at her desperately. He couldn’t talk about Eds. Not yet. Her eyes were soft as she tucked the necklace back into his shirt.

“Can I?” she asked, leaning back and opening her arms. Steve didn’t hesitate this time and slipped into them. Her arms went around him and held him tight. He sighed deeply and squeezed her back. She held him like he was something precious that had been lost and then found. It felt so good that tears pricked his eyes.

Comforting touches had been rare for him growing up and he had been hesitant when touching others - finding it difficult to know when someone might want him to reach out and comfort them. The kids had broken down that hesitancy with ruthless efficiency, launching themselves at him with every opportunity, holding his hand and grabbing his clothes, playing with his hair, their constant little touches of care and affection. Letting him know every day that it was alright – that they loved him.

Robin’s hug felt the same.

“Thanks, Rob,” he said into her neck, emotion burning in the back of his throat.

“Thank you, Steve,” she replied softly as she squeezed him tighter.

Eddie shot into the room and stared at them on the floor with an exasperated look. “Okay, what the hell? What’s with all the screaming and crying going on in here?”

They leaned back and looked at each other before bursting into laughter.  

---

Late at night the three of them trudged into Eddie’s room and collapsed onto the small bed. Steve took the wall, Robin in the middle and Eddie on the outside. The night was warm but a fan kept it just cool enough that Steve drifted into a comfortable sleep. No dreams or memories haunted him.

In the morning, Hopper picked him up… and took him home.

Part 6

@just-a-tiny-void @mx-jinxous @child-of-cthulhu @goodolefashionedloverboi @awholedamnmesstbh @phoenix0bird @queenie-ofthe-void @bookworm0690 @estrellami-1 @hbyrde36 @a-gae-af-racoon @nailbatandfreak @newtstabber @novelnovella @meela86 @lenathegay @vampireinthesun @penny00dreadful @questionablequeeries

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #multiverse #steve and eddie #robin buckley #slow burn #angst with a happy ending

[familyvideostevie]

hi! are your baby blurps still open? if so, can i request a 19 or 36 with steve? (i hope you haven't done them yet, im sorry if you have) thank you so much and your writing is beautiful btw 💓

hi my dear!! i did 19 here but 36 is all yours :) hope you like! steamy again, so 16+ please!

stopping a kiss when it gets too heated __ The party is in full force but you're ready to go home. Not because it's not fun, not because you're not feeling well. It's simple: Steve looks so hot you want to jump his bones. You've got one beer in you and you're watching him across the room where he talks to Jonathan. His polo is tighter than it should be, clinging to his biceps and the muscles of his back. He's wearing that pair of Levi's that make you flush and his hair is messy after a full day of work and a night of fun.

He laughs and you swear you can hear the sound over all the other noise. He takes a sip of the cup he's holding -- water since he's driving -- and his swallow makes his adam's apple bob and your mouth dry. Okay, that's enough. You've got to have him. And while you know that you just need to say the word and Steve will take you home immediately, you think maybe you could rile him up first as payback.

You make your way through the crowd, saying small hellos as you go, eyes never leaving Steve. He seems to sense you coming since he looks up to find your face and smiles that smile that's just for you.

"Hi, Jonathan," you say once you get there. Steve's arm slides around you as you fit into his side. "Can I steal him for a second?"

"He's all yours," your friend says. He looks between you both for a moment and laughs a little as you drag Steve away.

"Where are we going?" your boyfriend asks, his palm warm in yours.

"Bathroom."

"Didn't know you needed help," he teases. "Wait, are you okay?" He's more concerned this time, his other hand heavy on your back as you slide into a door off of the hallway and close it behind him, flicking on the light.

"I'm fine," you say brightly. His brows are furrowed and he still looks delicious even in the dull glow of the overhead. "Do you know how hot you look tonight, Steve?"

A flush travels up from his collar to pool in his cheeks and his hands settle on your hips as you back him up against the sink. "Is that so?" he says softly, concern gone. "I see what's going on here."

"You do?" You step between his legs and toy with his collar. "And what's that?" His pupils widen as you move even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your skin.

"You just wanted to make out." He sounds so smug that you simply can't let him continue to talk, so you kiss him instead. Slowly, like you have all the time in the world, like you're not in the bathroom of someone's house with everyone you went to school with just a wall away.

Steve moans into your mouth, his hands sliding into your back pockets and squeezing just a little bit. You fight him for control, tongues swirling as you angle his jaw just the way you want, flipping the switch from lazy kisses to filthy ones. You can feel him through his jeans, feel yourself start to lose control a little as your breathing becomes panting. You trail open-mouthed kisses down Steve's jaw, his neck, sucking on this one spot that makes him keen.

"Hey--," he says. "I think--ah--I think we should take this show on the...fuck...road." He gently pushes you away, thumb trailing over your bottom lip as you blink once, twice, taking him in slowly. His hair is a mess and there's a bruise blooming where your lips were.

"Alright pretty boy," you say, voice hoarse. You're not even embarrassed that your mission to rile him up has got you just as good. You ghost one hand over the zipper of his jeans and he hisses. "Take me home."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington blurb #blurb #emma's asks

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Never Too Late 4

Warnings: noncon sexual acts (later in series)

This is dark!Steve Rogers and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re turning forty and life seems to be forging ahead on its one way track, that is until you meet Steve Rogers.

Note: So I wouldn’t say I’m back just yet. I was just getting ready to answer more of your amazing asks and I’ve been sitting on this chapter forever so I decided to edit and get it out between my original stuff. I won’t be posting regularly just yet but I just wanted you guys to know I appreciate you!

Thank you. Love you guys!

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Series Masterlist

It was a bad day. Well, only morning so far. You woke up stiff. Work, your mother, life. It all piled up and wound a knot just beneath your shoulder blade. As you sat up, you realised it was more. Not just your shoulder but your neck and all down your sides; the muscles stiff and unyielding.

You barely managed to grab your phone from the bedside table. You whined as you fell back onto the pillows and dialed your manager’s number. It was early enough that all you got was her voicemail. You sucked in all your breath and quickly left your message. A sick day ticked off your yearly tally. You hung up and stared at the ceiling. Ow.

You turned your head and that hurt too. Just inside your dresser were your freshly washed capris and the dark blue tank just waiting for you. Well, you didn’t imagine a run would do you much good. Or be possible. You sobbed in frustration.

It was an hour of agony. You tried to fall asleep but the pain was too much. You groaned as you pushed yourself up. A yelp escaped you as you hung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood. You hobbled to the bathroom and caught yourself on the sink. You opened the cabinet and used one hand to break two capsules free of the packet. For emergencies only.

You tossed back the muscles relaxers with a handful of water from the faucet and grumbled as you made your way back to bed. You could have fallen onto the mattress but even the thought made you hurt. You lowered yourself carefully and laid face down. You stayed like that until your phone vibrated against you.

You felt around beneath your side and answered without looking. 

“Hello?” You croaked as your eyelids began to droop with the weight of the medicine.

“Hey, you okay?” Steve’s voice rose from the speaker.

“What? Steve?” You rolled onto your side and wheezed in pain. “Yeah, I’m… fine.”

“I’m at the park.” He said evenly.

“Oh, I--” You tried to relax and urge the tension from your back. “Sorry, I hurt my--ugh, back.” 

You couldn’t get comfortable. Every which way only made it worse.

“Your back?” He asked.

“I’ll be fine. I took some relaxers. I just need to sleep it off and-- urg, call my chiropractor.” You balled your other hand around the corner of your pillow. “Ow, ow, ow.”

“What did you do?” He asked. “Did you lift something or--”

“You really don’t need to worry,” you gritted through your teeth. “It happens. It could be from just sitting in the same chair for eight hours or you know, just father time. Ahhhh.”

“I’ll come check on you,” You heard him walking and then a car horn. “Um, I just realised I have no idea where I’m going.”

“Steve, really, I can take care of myself.” You insisted. “The pills are already kicking in.”

“I can help. I have some experience with physical therapy.” He replied. 

“No, no, it’s--” You tried to sit up and almost screamed, instead muffling it in your throat. 

“You can text me the address. You don’t sound fine.” He urged. “Please.”

You sighed. Then gasped as it sent a pang through you.

“I can’t--” You were tired and your head was fuzzy from the meds. “Alright.”

You hung up without awaiting his response and keyed in your address before you dropped the phone. You closed your eyes and let yourself float away in the static, the knot in your back still thrumming in your subconscious.

Your phone kept you from sinking entirely. It shook again, this time without pause. You answered and Steve’s voice came over the garbled buzzer.

“Hey, I’m here.” He said.

“Here?” You blinked at the phone.

“It’s Steve. I’m downstairs.” He said.

“Why?” You asked.

“Oh, never mind,” He replied. “Thanks.” You heard before it cut off entirely. The line went dead and you slung your phone down beside you.

Then the knocking came. You were annoyed. You got up, with an effort that made your entire body throb. You ambled into the living room and neared the door. You peeked through the little hole and slid the chain free. You leaned heavily on the door as you opened it.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked and you just bared your teeth at him. “Wow.” You stumbled back and hit the closet behind you. You winced and your legs threatened to crumple. “Here.”

He closed the door and wrapped his arm around you as he pulled you away from the closet. You whimpered as he led you back into the living room. He hesitated as he looked around then continued to the bedroom door. He peered inside before he angled you within and towards the bed. He was warm. Hot against you.

“Oh, I can feel it.” You mumbled as he lowered you down to the mattress. “The relaxers are hitting.”

“Good,” He carefully laid you down and turned you onto your side, your back to him. “Where does it hurt?”

His hand started at your neck and you groaned. He brushed down and you got louder as he touched your shoulder then your lower back. His fingers tickled your hips and he lingered along your pajama bottoms before he retreated. He pressed his palm more firmly to your back.

“Definitely tension,” He said.

You hummed and bent your arms in front of you. He let you fall back and your eyes slowly closed. 

“What did you take?” He asked.

You pointed to the bathroom and your arm quickly dropped beside you. You opened your eyes as you heard him. He frowned and left you. He re-entered with the package of capsules and read it.

“How many?”

You held up two fingers and he shook his head.

“It says you should only take one every six hours.” He turned the box in his hands. “These are extra strength.”

“No, regular,” Your lashes fluttered and you let your eyes close again. “I only get regular.”

“No, these are extra strength,” His weight settled on the mattress. “You should be fine but no more for today.”

“You go,” You grumbled as the drowsiness rested over you like a shroud. “I told you… I’m okay.”

“You need someone to keep an eye on you.” He said. “You took a double dose.”

“Tired,” You yawned. “Go.”

You didn’t register his response, only his tone. Stern. You were dragged deeper into the dissonance until all was black. Until all that remained was the distant pain along your spine. The whisper of the worries which had turned your muscle to stone.

💊

You woke as the pain needled into your neck deeper than before. Your head was cradled between your pillows and your arm bent beneath you painfully in your drugged sleep. You groaned and pushed yourself up, vaguely aware of someone else moving around in your apartment.

You touched your forehead and tried to clear your head. You remembered calling in and taking the relaxers but after that, it was all fuzzy. You rolled over with a squeak and carefully sat up. Your eyes welled and threatened to overflow from the sheer agony down your spine.

A count of ten readied you for the torturous effort of standing up. You staggered and caught yourself on the nightstand. Your shirt was twisted around your torso and your pajama pants were rumpled from your heavy sleep. You moved slowly and stiffly to the door and eased it open as you listened to the activity on the other side.

You followed the steady chop of a knife against the cutting board and leaned inside the kitchen doorway as your shoulder twinged sharply. Steve was focused on chopping a cucumber as low jazz floated up from his phone. You gripped the wooden frame beside you and rubbed your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Your voice scratched in your throat.

He looked over at you and placed the knife down. He wiped his hands on the dishcloth and neared you. “You shouldn’t be up. You’ll only make it worse.”

“What-- I don’t--”

“You took too many relaxers.” He said flatly. “You’ve been sleeping it off for the last… six hours.”

“Six hours?” You muttered as he guided you around and into the living room. You hissed as another jolt rattled your bones. “Ahhh.”

Steve caught you before you could collapse and scooped you up in his thick arms. He sighed and sat you down on the couch softly.

“What were you doing?”

“Making a salad.” He answered. “I didn’t want to just leave you here alone.”

“You didn’t have to come in the first place.”

“I think I did.” He brought his hands to either side of your neck and you winced. A blinding pain ran from the back of your skull, down your neck, along your shoulder blade, and all the way to your ankle. “Do me a favour.” He dropped his hands. “Turn your head to the right.”

You squinted at him and reluctantly did as he said.

“Left.” He demanded and when you tried the other side, you cried out and reached up to grip your neck. “Hmm, raise your arms.” You did that but your left didn’t get as high up as your right. You gasped in pain again and he sat beside you. “Turn your back to me.”

“I should call my chiro.” You said. “You shouldn’t--”

“I know what I’m doing.” He insisted and squeezed your hip. “Turn.”

“Steve.”

“I’m trying to help you.” He poked your arm and you relented and shifted until you were sideways on the cushion. He bent his leg up and faced you.

His large hands settled on your shoulders and he ran his thumb up your neck. You whimpered and he slid his hands lower, feeling your muscles.

“Tell me what hurts most.” 

He touched your left shoulder blade and paused as you cried out. He poked along it and your voice rasped even louder. He continued down your back and sides and the weight between your hips made you shake as it felt as if your entire body would dissolve from the pain.

“I don’t know what I did,” you whined. “I just woke up like this.”

“Anything happen yesterday? Something stressful?” His hands crawled up your back and he grasped your shoulders again. He began to stroke the back of your neck lightly with his thumbs. You went rigid as he coaxed the muscles. “Just relax, you’ll only make it worse.”

“Ah,” you did your best to let go of the tension but you weren’t comfortable with him touching you. In fact, you weren’t entirely fine with him being in your apartment.

“So, what’s going on?” He asked.

You exhaled deeply and he moved to your shoulders, a surprised groan escaped you as he hit a particularly tender spot.

“Definitely a pinched nerve.” He said. “So tell me, what’s go you all knotted up?”

You shook your head and that only jarred you again. You couldn’t help but lean back as he kneaded your flesh. The pain was unbearable and overwhelmed your caution.

“My brother’s birthday is coming up. I’m supposed to go to my mom’s--” you sucked in air as you resisted a moan. He definitely knew what he was doing. “She called me last night and--” You couldn’t hold back the next and the long whine escaped you. You closed your eyes in embarrassment and searched for your voice. “You know, she didn’t do anything for my birthday but she wants me there and I love my brother but-- ughhh, oh my god, Steve.”

You covered your mouth as your wispy tone sent heat through your body.

“I told you, relax. Keep talking.”

You tore your hand from your mouth. “You don’t have too--”

“I want to, now what’s going on with your mother?”

“The usual. She’s disappointed in me. She… wants me to bring a date but even if I had one, I wouldn’t want to bring them around. I wish she’d just accept me for just me but--” You pressed your lips together and dug your nails into the couch as his hand got lower. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“I don’t think so.” He continued to work your muscles and you leaned back against him without thinking. “Your mom shouldn’t be pressuring you like that. You’re doing so well. You’ve been running, you work hard, and I think she should be proud.”

You dropped your head back against his shoulder as your eyes rolled back. His hands were on your hips, kneading and gripping in turn so that your right leg slung down limply over the side of the couch. He didn’t seem to mind as you pressed against him and your voice swirled up into the air in relief.

He was quiet as he continued to massage your lower back and along your sides. He repeated his course up and down until he was focused on your hips again. The remnants of the relaxers rested on your eyelids and your breath slowed as you were tempted to fall back asleep.

He rubbed your hip bones lightly as you floated in a haze and all was quiet but for the beating of his heart against your back. His hands moved around your front and his fingers crawled over your pelvis. You were startled by how intimate his touch was but could do nothing but remain as you were.

He retracted his hand as if surprised himself. He cleared his throat and eased out from behind you, lowering you onto your back as he stood. He sniffed and his jaw tensed as he forced a smile.

“You stay here. Don’t move, I mean it, you’ll hurt yourself worse than you already are.” He took a pillow from the other side of the couch and slipped it under your head. “I’ll go finish lunch. You need something in your stomach.”

He turned and took the slender black remote from your low coffee table. He placed it beside your hand. His blue eyes flicked across your middle and you pulled down the hem of your shirt as you realised it had ridden up. He shook his head and backed away.

“After you eat, you should take a hot bath. Liquid heat is good for tension.” His voice faded as he strode back to the kitchen. “And I think you should take tomorrow off too. That’s not going away overnight.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #never too late #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #mcu #marvel #captain america #au

[kahlsflannel]

The Summer

Part One: Mr.Rogers

Summary: (Y/N) (L/N) lives with her parents at their exquisite mansion, tucked away somewhere in the midsts of Michigan. Summers are always dull, and usually spent by her lonesome. However, when her parents invite a few choice friends from college to spend the season with the family, (Y/N) gets the chance to meet good ole Steve Rogers, and realizes this summer isn't going to be like any others.

SERIES WARNINGS: age gap (reader is 18, Steve is 40.) eventual smut

CHAPTER WARNINGS: none, except for hot Steve Rogers.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Modern!AU)

Word Count: 1,500

A/N: Hi hi hi. My hiatus is technically still going but I had this idea and wrote 1,500 words and my brain is still going brrr so please enjoy. Btw, the Steve in this is based of Infinity War Steve. Big man. Beefy man. Wow. Anyways, I hope you enjoy <3

Summer heat was always her least favorite. As she neared the lake house, a humid gust of the wind blew upon the nape of her neck, wetting the small baby hairs, sticking them to her skin. She hated it. Hated all that came with the season. Scolded the wasps as they bounded around the fruit trees, dipping their sharp bottoms into the dainty flowers, pink like soft flesh flushed with blood. Summer typically brought nothing but toughened soles and dinner parties, lonely nights and cold waters. Summer was her least favorite. She hated how her birthday feel right at the end of the spring, catapulting her into being grown during the quiet lull of the year. Eighteen was a strange age. It carried a heavy weight upon its brow, giving all the responsibilities of a seasoned adult without the years of tiresome experience. She compared to a game of dice, rolling and rolling, hoping to get the right numbers, but usually coming out plain wrong, and having to try and try again until fingers became nimble enough to angle the squared pieces in the right way.

Shoes pressed into the thick, muddy sand by the murky waters of her father's prized lake. It spanned across their property, hosting a family of mallards and several types of game fish that her father would brag about during events, pointing to taxidermied trout plastered on the wall of their dining room as he went on about how many swam the depths of the body outside. She had never cared for fishing, finding it tedious and tiring. She also despided the idea of prying a barbed hook from the mouth of a fish, just to release it and let its blood pollute the waters. Alas, she came from a family of hunters and fishermen, so she was not spared the sights she so greatly detested. As she looked across the rippling surface, her name was called in the all too cheery voice of her mother, who was making her way over.

"(Y/N), the guests are here," she said happily, eager for the distraction from her crippling marriage. Her father was always a little more kind when others were around. He replaced his typical cold demeanor with soft eyes and kisses to her mother's cheeks, pleasantries he often refused to offer. The younger girl nodded, a tight lipped smile shot towards the woman as she allowed her mother's soft hand to find a place on the small of her back and lead her towards the main house. A large black SUV was parked in front, the driver stepping out from the front to open the backdoor. Out stepped a woman with auburn hair, the color of a burning log. Her eyes latched onto (Y/N)'s own, making her blink quickly as the dark green irises seemed to burn a hole into her. Her attention was quickly diverted to the other door opening on it's own, followed by a large frame filling her vision.

Broad shoulders pressed against some kind of silk fabric that stretched over obviously toned muscles. The white sleeves were rolled half way up his arms, showing off his tanned forearms, which were decorated by soft blonde hairs and what she assumed to be an expensive watch, looking similar to her father's Rolex. Her eyes travelled up, landing on his face. She quickly realized he was by far the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes upon. His jaw was hidden under a well manicured beard, and his eyes were left under sunglasses, some designer's name branded harshly onto the side. His hair was swept back, held in place by some sort of product, but lacked the typical shine of a gel. He was stunning and (Y/N) almost didn't register she was being spoken to by her mother.

"Why don't we show the guests to their rooms? You can take Mr.Rogers to the one beside yours and I'll name Ms. Romanoff to the one by my own. We'll meet back in the dining room for dinner in around," her mother lifted her arm, glancing at the watch face before continuing, "half an hour?" Suddenly, she started speaking to the guests. "Welcome welcome! Natasha! it's been so long." The auburn woman smiled, extending her arms to receive a hug. The pair began talking, and (Y/N) figured she was supposed to welcome the man. She took in a deep breath before walking over towards him. He was leaned cooly against the car, large hands holding his phone in one and large bottle of wine in the other.

"Excuse me," (Y/N) piped up, feeling small under the sudden gaze directed at her. "Hello," she continued, fishing a smile onto her features. He returned it, allowing her to talk. "I'm (Y/N) (L/N), it's nice to meet you." She extended her hand, a courtesy she was taught young. He quickly shoved his phone into his front pocket and offered his own hand.

"Steve Rogers," he spoke, his voice a sweet timber. She blinked slow, taking in the feeling of his hand as he shook her own. Once disconnected, he drew up the same hand to push his glasses onto the crown of his head and handed her the bottle of wine, the label telling her it was an icon level red. She was suddenly sad she wasn't able to drink yet, always enjoying the bitter smell of the liquid. She thanked him quickly before furthering their conversation.

"I'm usually familiar with our guests. Can I ask how you know my parents?" She questioned, watching as he moved to grab his suitcase out of the back of the car. Her mother and Natasha, as she recalled, had already made their way inside, leaving the pair alone. As she led him into the house, he began speaking.

"I went to college with your father. That was, wow," he paused at the entryway, shaking his head before continuing, "That was over 20 years ago. Well before you were here." He shot her a smile. She nodded, giving him a small grin back as she handed the bottle of wine to the kitchen maid who greeted her from the entryway.

"I see. My father's been having a lot of old college friends here lately. Your room is upstairs, by the way. Do you need any help with your luggage?" she asked, not sure of where to take the conversation. He shook his head once more, picking up the suitcase by the handle with ease.

"No thank you, sweetheart. I've got it," he spoke easily. "You lead the way, I'll follow you." It was her turn to nod. She moved up the stairs easily, from many years of practice, and led him to the twist of the hall. Her room, the second guest room, and a bathroom were placed obscured from sight, tucked into a lonely corridor at the far left of the house. She had always enjoyed the privacy, her room far enough away from her parents that she could blare music as loud as she wanted and only disturb the cracks of her walls.

Once at the door of the room he would be staying, she twisted the knob to revel the space. her mother took pride in the looks of the guest rooms, insisting that they make the rooms just as nice as their own. A large bed filled the middle of the space, as well as two lounge chairs situated beside a table at the window. A hand carved entertainment unit hosted a television, and the floor was decorated with a large shag rug. All the linens and laces were white, and matched the walls.

"Alright, this is you. I'm right next door if you need anything. I sometimes play music a little loud, so if it ever bothers you, just let me know and I'll turn it down. Your closet is through that door by the bed, and the bathroom is across the hall." She was speaking fast, aware of his breath on her neck as he surveyed the space from behind her.

"Perfect, thank you so much, sweetheart. Show me around the rest of the place later, will ya?" She nodded, looking up at him before removing herself from the room. Questions were pounding her head as she watched him set his suitcase gently onto the duvet.

"Do..do you need anything else from me?" she asked, not wanting to be a rude host out of fear of her mother.

"I don't think so. When is dinner? I'd like to get the airport smell off me before we eat," he said, tugging a bag of toiletries out of the large space.

"Oh, at 7:30. That's when we alway eat," she spoke, moving back so he could exit the room.

"Perfect. I'll meet you all down there then. It was nice meeting you, (Y/N)." He spoke her name gently, held the letters on his tongue in a distinguished way. Not in the typical condescending manner of her father's other friends.

"You too, Mr.Rogers," she said, looking up at him through her lashes. He smiled, glancing over his shoulder as he entered the bathroom.

"Just call me Steve, sweetheart."

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader smut #steve x reader #steve #jensonwrites #i hope this i okay #i really like the concept

[mrslilyrogers]

Betrayal Part 5

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: (AU) Set in New York. You and Bucky have been married for 5 years. He’s the love of your life and you are his. At least, you thought you were until he started slipping away from you, coming home late and smelling of another woman’s perfume? You are in denial. Are you just losing your mind or are you really losing him?

Author’s notes: Hello guys! For those who want to get tagged, please just message me in my ask. Without further ado, here is Part 5. Hope you’re all ready :D 

Warnings: Cheating, Angst

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 

“Come on, pick up pick up,” Y/N said into the phone as she called Bucky. She looked at Lizzie who whimpered in her sleep, her fevered skin flushed. Immediately after her argument with him, she stormed to their room and locked the door. She didn’t care where he slept anymore. Whether he stayed on the couch, or went back to his mistress, that was all up to him. She wasn’t going to tolerate this, she couldn’t even if she wanted to. The fact that he couldn’t even face her, couldn’t even look her in the eye and tell her the truth was the tipping point. She married a coward. She thought they could fix this, but how could it be fixed when no one wanted to face the truth? She’s had enough. Her love wasn’t enough to fix this marriage and she would choose herself and her daughter before he drowned them both. She had finally decided, come tomorrow morning, she’d take Lizzie with her and figure out how they would go from there. She promised herself tomorrow she would be strong but tonight, tonight’s my time to grieve.

She couldn’t help her nagging suspicion to check downstairs to see if he had actually stayed. It wouldn’t have mattered either way but she wanted to know. Her padded footsteps across the dark, empty living room floor solidified her suspicion.

She married a coward.

She picked up their wedding photo on the table by the couch, hardly recognizing the two people madly in love staring back at her. Since when had they become strangers? She didn’t even know how long she’d been standing there, staring at the picture frame in her hands. All her dreams of a happy family with him crushed and all for what? She hoped it was worth it for him. She took a step back, leaving the frame facing down, not having the courage to look at it any longer and headed to the kitchen. How else would she grieve anyway without the help of her favorite bottle of wine?

At some point way past midnight, after consuming more than half the bottle while she tortured herself scrolling through their old pictures on her phone, she knew she had to call it a night. Everything looked better in the morning, she reminded herself as she dragged her feet up the stairs to check on Lizzie. She hoped to God it was true, how else would she survive?

The sight of Lizzie stopped her in her tracks. What the hell happened? Her skin was flushed as she shivered in her sleep, curling her body into a ball with her tiny hands clutched at the blanket. Y/N ran the few steps to her and immediately dropped the back of her hand on her forehead, feeling herself sober up as quickly as Lizzie’s heated skin shocked her. This was bad. This was really bad.  She had a full blown fever in a span of a few hours. Was that even possible? She seemed fine, she said she was only tired, How could they have missed this? Her panicked mind moved before she even registered what she was doing, “Come on, pick up, pick up,” she begged into the phone before his voice sent her straight to voicemail. Damn it! She paced the room, calling Bucky again.

“Mommy? I don’t feel so good,” Lizzie croaked from her bed. Y/N rushed back to her, immediately tucking her phone back in her pocket as Lizzie vomited right where she was.

“Sorry,” she rasped, laying her head back on her pillow.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. Mommy’s gonna get you cleaned up, okay?” Y/N tried not to let her alarm show, her hands shaking when she changed her out of her soiled clothes.

“Baby, mommy’s gonna be right back, she’ll just get you medicine okay?”

When Lizzie just nodded, she quickly ran to their medicine cabinet to grab the thermometer and Children’s Tylenol. She added some washcloths too and a basin full of water, hoping she was doing the right thing. When the normally fussy Lizzie didn’t even complain about the taste of the medicine, she knew just how bad she felt. Worry and panic gnawed at her as she tried to remember how her mother used to treat her when she was sick. Wiping the tepid washcloth over Lizzie’s skin, she tried to think of her options. She should call Nat despite the late hour. Bruce should know what to do even though he always says he wasn’t that kind of doctor. Those PhDs had to count for something right? After placing the cloth on Lizzie’s forehead, she measured her temperature. Please don’t let it be too high, please don’t let it be too high. 102 °F. Shit.

She paced the room again and wrung her free hand as she waited for her best friend to answer her call but to no avail, she got redirected to voicemail. Shit, shit, shit. This time she called Bruce, not caring anymore that she’d be waking them up. When no one answered, Lizzie whimpered again.

“Mommy, I’m dizzy,”

Y/N took that as a bad sign and put her soothing hand on her child’s forehead. “I know, sweetheart. Does anything else hurt?”

She just shook her head and raised her blanket higher.

“Alright, baby. Rest first okay? Mommy will take care of you, I promise,”

She picked her phone up again, giving a quick text to Bucky to call her as soon as he could before calling Steve, somehow knowing he’d know what to do. She needed his calming authoritative nature while her mind had gone haywire. He has always been the one in their group to call for emergencies, it just came with his hero complex.

“Hey, Y/N, what’s going on?” Steve asked, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Steve!” He heard her frantic reply on the line, making him sit up on his bed. “I can’t contact Bucky, he isn’t home and Lizzie, she’s sick.  She has a fever, she’s thrown up already and I--”

“Hold on, hold on, Y/N, calm down. Have you given her anything?”  

“I just gave her Tylenol but she’s still burning up and I think she’s nauseous, I don’t know what to do. Nat hasn’t picked up so I couldn’t ask Bruce what else I could give her, I should bring her to the hospital right? What am I saying? I’m bringing her now,” Steve could hear her panicked footsteps while she gathered everything she needed.

“Y/N wait, where the hell is Bucky? Should I try looking for him now?” He asked, already putting his shoes on. Y/N barely heard him, checking her driver’s license in her purse and grabbing her car keys before remembering...

“Shit!”

“What?” Steve asked, his heart in his throat. What now?

“Steve, I’ve been drinking! I need to call you back, I have to book an Uber,”

“No. Stay where you are. I’ll come get you,” his calm voice ordered, belying the anger he felt inside. If Bucky wasn’t already dead, he’d be sure to kill the jerk himself.  

_______________________________________________________________________

Bucky woke up with a splitting headache as he stretched his sore muscles from the odd angle he fell asleep in. His bent legs burning from squeezing himself into the small couch of his office. He sat up, groaning, while he massaged the tense muscles of his neck. He had been so mad after receiving that text from Celeste. It had been almost a week since he ended it with her, the day that Lizzie with her big and generous heart, proudly smiled at him when she thought she had solved his problem by making her uncle Steve go for her career day instead of him, her actual father. He still remembered it like a blow to the stomach, knocking the air right out of him. His daughter, so giving and thoughtful and he’d inadvertently pushed her away, pushed them away. It still sent chills to his spine to think of just how close he is of losing them. So instead of facing his wife last night, instead of admitting his mistake, he let his demons get the best of him and ran. Ran to drink himself into oblivion but her face was all he could see. The disappointment she felt for him etched in her features. She had lost hope and he knew it. What was he going to do? Drinking definitely wasn’t it. The more sensible part of his brain told him. But his whole life, that’s all he’s ever known. Rumlow’s laughing voice echoing in his head, “You’ll always get your answers at the end of a bottle,” Bucky cursed himself. He thought he’d buried that part of himself when he met Y/N, when she gave him her smile and her heart without a care of his past and he was selfish enough to take it. He should’ve known he’d fall back in, it’s just who you are. Just when he thought his night couldn’t get any worse, his phone vibrated from his pocket, a text from Celeste. Right, just what he needed. Of course, it was going to get worse.

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

So there he was almost at midnight, knocking at her apartment door, hoping he’d get this over and done with fast enough. He really wasn’t in the mood for any of her theatrics, he just wanted it to be over. She opened her door slightly and flashed her seductive smile before revealing herself in her new form-fitting red lingerie. Bucky rolled his eyes and groaned. Why couldn’t she take the hint? It turned out she didn’t at all. She took his groan as a good sign and wrapped her arms around him.

“Missed you Bucky,” she pouted before she rose on her tiptoes to try and kiss his neck. Bucky immediately pushed her by the arms away from him.

“Stop, Celeste. That’s enough!” he barked at her.

“What the hell, Bucky!” she screamed back at him, indignant.

“We’re over. I already told you, so please just stop with your messages and your calls. You knew this wasn’t gonna last,” That was true. The moment she saw the ring on his finger and still pursued him, he made sure to let her understand that their relationship was never going to get any further from being physical, that was their arrangement.

“What we have is good, Bucky! How could you let this go?” She pleaded, launching herself at him again to change his mind, hoping that he’d remember just how much he loved her body and how she could make him forget.

“Stop!” Bucky said, grabbing her arms again to push her away. He didn’t know what the hell he saw in her now. He always thought they were on the same page, she thrived on the thrill and he needed an escape.

“So what’s your plan now? Go back to your boring wife and play house with your family?” She scoffed while Bucky stiffened, feeling his jaw tic.

“You’re a broken man, Bucky. You need me, I can help you.” She let her fingers trail his chest. Bucky’s eerily calm demeanor disguised the storm he felt brewing inside. He grabbed her hand in a bruising grip, his voice menacingly low as he told her,

“Don’t you dare talk about my family like that. If you want to continue destroying your life, then go ahead, chase another married man for all I care. I am out.” He walked away from her, striding out the door while he felt his blood pump in his veins.

“I hate you, Bucky Barnes!” She screamed from the open doorway.

You and me both, he thought to himself.  You and me both.

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

He let out a sigh as he leaned back on the couch and massaged his temples, his dry throat working while the events of the night played on a loop in his head. What a fucking mess I made. His head pounded as shame filled him. He couldn’t go home and face Y/N right away, not while he was drunk and desperate for forgiveness. She didn’t deserve him drunkenly begging his apologies. He was fully planning on begging and groveling however way she wanted him to but not while his mind was muddled with alcohol. What was it she said again? Drinking and evading were what he was good at. It had hurt but she was right. Thankfully, he had just enough sense to crash in his office. He was a mess, but he was willing to do anything, anything to have his wife back and make her happy if she’d let him. He didn’t deserve her, he knew that too, but he was a selfish man. He needed her, she was the only woman he ever loved, the only one who made him feel right. Suddenly, his phone lit up from the coffee table in front of him, his brows furrowing when he saw Y/N and Steve’s missed calls. Dread formed at the pit of his stomach as his blood ran cold making him run as fast as he could out of his office.

_______________________________________________________________________

“Where is she?” Bucky’s voice boomed around the emergency waiting room while he ran straight to Steve. Steve’s jaw muscles clenched as he watched his friend run a hand through his disheveled hair, his skin pale, and his sweat and breath reeking of alcohol.

“Where the hell were you, Bucky?” Steve squared his shoulders, standing up. “Your daughter is sick! And your wife has been looking for you! What the hell has gotten into you lately?” he asked  accusingly, his voice rising. Several heads in the room turned to them but Steve couldn’t care less. His friend was going to have a piece of his mind.

“I know, I know. I fell asleep at my office,” Bucky replied knowing how pathetic he sounded even to his own ears.

“Bullshit! Do you really expect anyone to believe that? God damn it, Bucky! Look at you!” Steve’s nostrils flared, his hands balling into fists at his sides. The normally restrained Steve with his easy smiles gone, in his place was a man on the brink of losing control. He thought of Bucky as a brother but the overwhelming urge to punch him was so strong he was considering it. If they were anywhere but at the hospital for Lizzie, he was sure to have done it already. Lizzie, the sweet little girl he loved as his niece, was sick while her dad looked like he just came from someone else’s bed. Steve had his doubts at first but looking at him now, he was sure.

“How could you do this to your family? You, of all people, should know better than this!” He jammed his index finger into Bucky’s chest making him stumble back but he remained silent and accepted everything his best friend said knowing he deserved it.

“What would’ve happened if I hadn’t answered my phone? Y/N almost drove Lizzie in her state of panic, even though she’d been drinking. Did you know that?” Steve’s gruff voice made Bucky’s eyes flash with alarm before he looked down, gritting his teeth. He could feel Steve crowd in on him, taunting him and he wished he’d just punch him, hurt him. He deserved it. He deserved worse.

“Steve,” Y/N’s quiet, assertive voice interrupted them. She laid her hand on Steve’s back to calm him down, making him step away from Bucky and let go of the huge breath he’d been holding.

“Lizzie’s asleep. She’s feeling better now. The results of the tests shouldn’t take long,” she informed both of them, her eyes avoiding Bucky’s.

“Steve, you should head home. I’m sorry I woke you up, I’m not even sure if this was even an emergency. I think I might’ve just panicked,” she tried to keep her voice light but her smile didn’t reach her eyes, her back remaining rigid.

“Hey, no. You did the right thing,” Steve reassured her, nodding. She gave him a small smile before hugging him.

“Thank you Steve, really. What would we have done without you?” Y/N spoke to his neck. He rubbed his hand along her back, willing her the strength and comfort she needed to face her husband.

“Don’t worry about it. Everything would be fine. Are you sure you want me to go?” He asked her gently.

“You’ve done enough. You should rest. I promise to text you how it goes,” she said encouragingly at him. He nodded at her before turning to look coldly at Bucky. He strode away from them not bothering to say goodbye to him but Bucky reached his hand out, grabbing his arm.

“Thank you Steve, for being here. I mean it.” His voice was raw with sincerity, trying to convey just how grateful he was to have a brother in him. Steve’s jaw tensed before he nodded once and pulled his arm out of Bucky’s grasp, leaving him and Y/N alone together.

“Y/N…��� Bucky said as he faced her, guilt and shame written all over his face. She turned to face him finally, her expression blank, as she asked him in a calm and steady voice,

“Do you love her?”

Her resolve not at all betraying the riot inside her mind and heart, ignoring the pain that lodged itself deep in her chest. At last, she had the courage to ask what she wanted to know all long, what kept her awake at night when she thought of him and where he was, what he was doing with her. Did she know him the way she did? Did she run her fingers down his spine the way he liked? Did she kiss that soft spot behind his ear that made him shiver? Did she love him? Did he love her? It seemed all her questions ended and revolved around that. Funny how only three words were all it took to change their lives forever.

Bucky’s breath caught in his chest as he swallowed a lump in his throat. This was it, he thought, she was going to leave him.

“Y/N, please. I wasn’t—”

“Answer the question, Bucky. Stop treating me like I’m stupid. I deserve to know,” she cut him off in her eerily resolved voice, and raised her chin. She looked so brave and so regal and he was so so stupid to have taken her for granted, to have neglected her. He could never forgive himself.

“No, Y/N, no. God, I’m so stupid, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleaded frantically as he grabbed her hands in his, only to have her flinch and pull herself away harshly from him as if his touch burned her.

“Y/N please—” he tried again.

“No, no, don’t touch me,” she said, emotion finally seeping into her voice, her eyes brimming with tears that she would not let fall down. Not for him, never for him anymore.

“I don’t love her, Y/N. I love you. You’re the only one, please listen,” he tried again, his voice sounding pathetic to his own ears.

“Stop, Bucky. It doesn’t matter!” She said, her nostrils flaring, eyebrows drawn together. She huffed, regaining her control as she drew in long breaths, and shook her head, “It doesn’t matter,”

Bucky felt his world spin, fear pulsing in his veins as he stood frozen, while his wife told him there was nothing he could say or do that would matter anymore. He had made his choice, he had to lie in it. Still, while his mind understood and knew what she was saying, the heart was a treacherous thing, and his hoped and fought against all odds to have her listen, to get her back.

“Y/N, please. I love you. Let me explain, I’m begging—”

“Bucky, Stop. I can’t,” she shook her head, unable to finish, not knowing what to say as she took several steps back.

“I can’t even look at you right now. I just, I can’t,” she continued to shake her head, her thoughts and feelings stuck in her throat. She was disgusted with him, she couldn’t even stand him. And he just stood there, watching her longingly, his hands clenching at his sides when she started to walk away.

“Y/N wait… I don’t mean… Just, can I stay for Lizzie? Bring you guys home?”

Y/N had never heard him sound so small and unsure. She let out a breath she’d been holding, he was Lizzie’s father after all, no matter how he treated her, that wasn’t ever going to change. She nodded her head, knowing how much it would break her heart to have him still here but she couldn’t just think of herself, she had to think of her daughter, and she’d do anything for her.

“Thank you,” she heard his defeated voice say above the din as she put one step in front of the other, not once daring to look back at him while the sea of chatter and activity in the emergency room droned on, leaving a sorrowful man standing in the middle of the waiting room watching the one thing in his life he did right walk away. Her voice a constant echo in his mind, “It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter,”

Part 6

_____________________________________________________________________

A/N: Sorry to have misled you in the ending of Part 4! Hope you enjoyed this one and let me know what you think! 

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #marvel fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #betrayal

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Pt.28

A Dangerous Homecoming

04/08/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 5,529

Warnings: wounds, blood, language, fluff

A/N: We are in the home stretch my loves. The end is in sight. Hopefully I can speed up my momentum. I have the chapters outlined out but always seem to slow down when I’m near the end. I’ve done it with lots of my stories. And I am SORRY. Anywho, I hope you enjoy this chapter. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

Consciousness isn’t something that Steve is often at odds with.

From that fateful day when his mother gave in to her most rabid of fears and made her deal with the Sun Witch. With Doctor Erskine’s enthusiastic encouragement and his own experimental flare, Steve’s fate was changed.

He was altered, irrevocably so. The man he might have grown up to be—or rather, the man he would have died as—had disappeared and in his place a new one was formed. One of drive but not ambition. One with the will to do good and now with the strength to do so.

Steve had been blessed with the body to fight, but now he understands that he was also cursed to drag everyone he loves into the darkness opposite his light.

He gasps, sweating into his expensive and ridiculously extravagant tunic. The dark blue, etched in delicate silver and blacks is nearly soaked through.

His dark gray undershirt clings to his wounded and bruised form.

His lungs struggle for breath as his fear mounts, choking him as silver steel eyes grow dark, black, and dangerous. A curtain of deep chestnut hair flutters around a pale but cold bitten face. There’s a gleam to this man’s left and a fist curls with a keening cry as metal bends.

Steve’s hands twitch. His lips part, dried blood crackling around the edges of his lips.

His fever rages, burning hotter than he’s ever burnt before. The wound in his side stings. The pain is consistent until suddenly it stops.

As the dark eyes charge forward, his weapon hand raised to strike, a soft dampness coaxes Steve away from the image. He gasps, death poised to strike only inches away, when a soft whisper pulls him out.

“Shhhh.” The whisper says and Steve lashes out.

His eyes open wide, his hand closed tight around muscle and bone.

“Ow.” You whisper, pained but also controlled.

Steve’s eyes search and find you to his left, right hand angled painfully away from his face with a damp piece of cloth in its grasp.

“You’re safe.” You tell him gently, trying to convince him. “You’re alright.”

The panic in his chest dissipates. His heart begins to slow. There’s a searing burn on his left side and he looks down to see his shirt and tunic pulled up to expose a long wound now stitched together and freshly cleaned.

“Steve…” You plead. “My hand.”

His panic returns and he drops your wrist. “Did I hurt you?”

He pushes himself up but stops as you place a restraining hand on his chest.

“Don’t get up.” You order.

And it is and order. No doubt about it.

Though Steve knows that you take your role as Queen of Broklin very seriously, he has never heard you use that very authority on him and it strokes it heartstrings like a harp.

He sits back, resting against what feels like sacks of grain. It isn’t exactly soft but it’s better than the ground. Beneath his is warm mattress, hay by the feel of it. Grass too probably.

With his senses returning, he takes a quick look around where you’ve brought him.

“Where are we?”

“My home.” You tell him, resuming the cleaning of his face. “Or it used to be.”

You gently massage away the grime from his skin. The blood caked on his scratches and cuts require a bit more pressure but you’re as gentle as can be.

While you work, he takes it in. Your once home.

It’s small. Only one room, slightly smaller than his study back in Broklin.

The floor is made of aged wood that creaks as you shift on your knees to reach the far side of his neck.

There are small holes and cracks, moldy spots of green in one corner. In another a vibrant yellow weed pokes through from the ground below.

The wattle walls have been painted to attempt a brighter interior. The paint is scarce. He can see how you tried your best to make this little room a home.

The windows, all without panes of glass and only shutters to keep out the cold in winter, have begun to crumble and splinter. A vine has begun to take over, weaving it’s way in and up into the leaky thatched roof.

“Sorry about the water. It started raining while I was in the village.” You explain and his eyes hone in on you.

“You went out alone?” He demands, fear beginning to grab hold.

“Just for a little bit.” You stop your cleaning, meeting his fretful gaze with what he knows now is a stubborn will to be independent. “I needed to get some food and clean scraps for your wounds.”

Steve frowns, hating that you'd gone anywhere without him.

He reaches up to place his hand along your left cheek, caressing your skin until his finger finds a small three inch pucker across your cheek bone.

“You’re hurt.” He hates it. He hates it so much his stomach begins to bubble with bile.

“It’s just a scratch, Steve.” You shake your head, then lean towards him again to resume your cleaning. “Luckily my old sewing box was still in the cupboard. I tended your wound as best I could but we should get it looked at properly.

“I don’t want you getting an infection.” You sigh.

Steve’s turns towards the cupboard beside the small table by the fire you’ve got going. There’s an old rusty pot resting just beyond, handle broken.

All of your furniture, including this bed that he’s laying on is of the poorest quality. With you gone and without your care, even though it’s been under a year, it has fallen into disrepair.

“I won’t.” Steve assures you, looking at the sewing box by your legs, resting on the tattered skirts if your once fine dress.

“That won’t work on me, Steve. You’re seeing a doctor as soon as we’re with father.” You frown.

“No.” He shakes his head, looking at your stubborn pout.

He could kiss you. He loves the way you are bot afraid to challenge him or show you care. You love him so openly. With no fear.

He’s never known this kind of love. Freely given with no thought of restraint.

“I mean, I can’t catch an infection.” Steve explains. “I’m already healing. Even my fever is already gone.”

You almost dive towards his cheeks, hand thrown out to feel his temperature. You press your little—well, little to him—palm against his forehead and wait.

Steve can’t help but love you in every moment that you are by his side.

Especially now as you teeter over him, face screwed up with concerned concentration. You’re a mess. Like him.

Skin broken in small places from rocks and the falls you took. Hair completely disheveled. Your crown, the smaller one he’d had made for your outdoor events, is gone. Lost somewhere in the crowd and amongst the fight.

He doesn’t dare bring it to your attention.

His eyes naturally follow the curve of your throat down to your chest, and then finally your stomach.

His calm glee at your fussing quickly fades as the small swell of your stomach—more noticeable to him day after day—grabs hold of his attention completely.

With two hands he cups the bump, wondering if he might somehow know how the little prince is in your belly. His son.

“How are you feeling?” He checks, meeting your gaze which calms as you sit back onto your ankles and place your hands over his.

“He’s alright.” You stroke his fingers, a gesture of comfort. “I was a little worried while we were walking. After the carriage flipped over, I didn’t feel him for a while, but he did wiggle a bit as we walked here.”

Steve feels a rush of relief, grateful to you for always being your shared son’s protector. He knows how much you love him already.

“That’s not what I asked.” Steve clarifies, eyebrows raised high as he waits.

“I’m fine, Steve. A little tired. Achy but that’s to be expected after today. And very worried.” You sigh, shoulders rising high and dropping low as you slouch with the weight of your grief.

Steve knows what you’re thinking about, because he’s been thinking about it too.

He thought about how far he needed to get you away from the city. And Bucky. He thought about his son and his health. And Bucky. He worried about his friends. And Bucky. He wished he could do more for the innocents he’d left behind. And Bucky.

“They’ll have subdued him by now.” Steve promises.

“How do you know? He was so…so lethal, Steve. I’ve never seen him like that. How is it even possible?”

Steve takes a slow breath, knowing that it’s time for this story. He would have preferred for Bucky to tell you himself, but this time…he’ll have to make an exception.

“There’s something you should know about Bucky.” He begins, but you nod.

“This has to do with him being taken a few years ago?” You offer, entirely more knowledgeable than he’d expected you to be. You never cease to amaze him. He shouldn’t be surprised.

You’re smart as a whip. Perhaps not by a Lady’s standards, but you know more than anyone knows. You’re observant and your common sense and instinct is unparalleled.

If you weren’t so important to him, so precious; if you weren’t his only love and the mother of his child, he would recruit you onto the team and find a way to make you impervious to harm.

Maybe find a witch to bewitch you the way they’d done him or even Peter.

“How do you-?”

“The other day when Nat and I spent some time together alone, she alluded to a story. She didn’t tell me, but she said she would. Later.” You explain and Steve can see the resignation of your all too special patience.

“I suppose it’s later.” Steve nods. “A few years ago, Bucky, Nat, Clint, and I were on a quest to find one of the secret Hydra camps in the Southern forests. The deep south. In the elder wood.”

He watches as you bring out your feet from under you and settle on the floor. He hates it, you on the hard surface while he’s on the soft bed…but if he asks you to sit with him, you’ll argue.

“He was gone for weeks. Nat was inconsolable. Clint did what he could but eventually they had to move on. They had things to attend to. Responsibilities. Thor had to go back to Asgard, Tony had to help Pepper run his own Kingdom, and although I—I should have gone back to ruling Broklin, but I couldn’t give up.

“Nat and I kept searching. How could we stop looking? Bucky is…he was my only remaining family. And for Nat…well, it would be like when I lost you. Knowing you’re out there with no way of knowing whether you’re safe, only we knew that Bucky wasn’t.”

“This was after Margaret’s death?” You probe carefully, fearful it seems in upsetting him.

He’s driven that fear into you and it upsets him that you feel you can’t be open with him about Margaret. It’s his own fault.

Steve nods. “Only just. It was so fresh. Her death…and I was grateful for the distraction; however painful it was. The thought of losing Bucky too after everything with Maggie…I couldn’t stand it. I was determined in finding him. As was Nat.”

Steve can almost sense his own desperation again. It was just as bad as when you were missing. He ignores the ache in his chest at both memories and instead presses on, pushing those bad times out of his mind.

You’re here, attentive and precious in front of him. He won’t waste another moment on the thought of you anywhere but at his side.

“When we finally found him, he’d been strapped to a wooden bed with no mattress in the lowest level of a ruined castle. It was damp but hot, as we were farther South than I’d ever been. Although Natasha knew the territory well and we were able to search it with ease thanks to her expertise.

“For the most part, Bucky seemed fine. He was a little tired when we pulled him out of that wretched cell, but he was happy to be with Natasha again.

“His arm…it was gone. Replaced by the one he has now. When we asked him what had happened to it, he said that he didn’t remember and that it did hurt, but not as much as he might have thought it would to lose an arm.”

“Weren’t any of you worried about what they’d done to him?” You ask in shock, voice tight and whispered. Steve can only guess at what has you so spooked but he’s certain it’s the loss of Bucky’s arm. Here was no grand tale of him losing it in battle.

One day it was there, the next it was gone.

“Yes. Of course. Nat and I more than the others because we couldn’t understand why they would take him only to do that to his arm. So, we kept a very close eye on him. We secluded him to one room in the castle with guards at his door day and night.

“Tony was also very suspicious. Only Tony…Tony wanted to do more than just keep an eye on him.” Steve says, voice dropping low and his eyes going dark at the memory of Tony’s panic, the fear in his eyes as he looked at Bucky laying unconscious as he recovered.

A perceived threat. But to Steve, it was Bucky. His friend and brother. Like hell he was going to let anyone hurt him any more than he’d already been injured.

As Steve can’t fight his anger, with his brow furrowed, you seem to realize suddenly that this must have been what drove your Father and Steve apart. This was what had needed your marriage to bridge the divide in their relationship.

“He wanted to lock him up permanently.” You say, not surprised one bit, but a little disappointed? “Or worse…”

As Steve’s gaze meets yours, you read his eyes like no one else in his life can and realize that Tony had actually tried to do something about it, not simply wanted to.

“What did he do?” You barely manage to say.

“It doesn’t matter. The point is, I fought for Bucky. Nat did too. We were split, though Thor and Bruce weren’t there for the fallout, everyone else was.

“Peter was the only one who managed to balance both sides even though he initially fought with Tony. He realized what this would mean and helped mediate a stop to our quarrel. At least for a while.

“Tony and I didn’t speak again until we arranged a marriage between Morgana and myself with the full intention of having it end before we could ever truly consummate the marriage. That’s where you came in.” Steve sighs, feeling a surge of gratitude for you.

He doesn’t even plan for it to happen, but his voice becomes softer as he reaches out to stroke the curve of your chin. Caressing you whenever he has the chance. How long will you allow him to show you his affections?

He cannot be touching you always, despite his desire to do so. He must maintain some form of decorum in front of his friends and subjects.

However, here in the dimly lit home of your past, he can be as free with his love as he pleases.

You catch his hand and release a held breath, looking appeased and happy to feel the heat of his skin, just as he relishes in yours.

“So, Bucky never showed any signs of mental manipulation until today?” You wonder.

“No. Nothing until today. When nothing happened, we assumed he was fine.” Steve sighs heavily, the weight of his fight with Bucky weighing heavy on his shoulders. Had he missed some sort of clue? Had there been an indicator of what was to come? Had he been blind because of how close he was with Bucky. “It’s been more than two years…”

As if that might ease his strife. It doesn’t. It only makes him worry that maybe there is more to come. What if it isn’t over? What if they’ve turned his friend into someone dangerous permanently?

Steve pulls you a little closer and you shift for him, moving where he wants you. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you even closer. He isn’t satisfied until you’re right against his side, your hands pressed against his chest where your fingers take to restlessly twitching against the loose threads of his shirt.

He watches you, so grateful that you’re safe. You’re as lost in thought as he is. Reliving the terrible day just as he is, no doubt.

Steve’s arm tightens again, and you look up to meet his eyes. Your own worry seems to dissipate as you see the stress in his.

As much as he loves Bucky. He can’t help but think how close he came to taking you from him today. How easily his life might have changed again. For the worse.

With a small quiet sigh, you reach up towards his cheek and begin to wipe at the smudged dirt there but stop after two swipes, eyes going wide as you stare into Steve��s storm blues.

“What?” Steve asks, seeing the shift in your expression. “What’s the matter?”

“I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t think it was important.” You begin, and Steve can hardly breathe.

“Didn’t tell me what, flower?” He coaxes, adjusting on the bed to sit up a little straighter.

“I…I think I know what happened. What set Bucky off today.” Steve begins to speak but you’re quick to shake your head to silence him and he obeys you, shushing if that is what you wish. “I didn’t think it was real. I was just waking up in the carriage when I saw it. I was drifting in and out, but I found it odd and even asked father about it.”

Steve’s impatience begins to prod at him, but he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet for you.

“Now that I think about it, I didn’t see him any other time except for that moment.” You shake your head, shutting your eyes as you struggle to pull the image together in your mind it looks like, so Steve reaches up to cup your cheek.

“Tell me.” He pleads gently, forced but willing.

When you meet his eyes again, he can see the terror there but also the absolute certainty.

“I saw Lord Pierce across the square, getting out of a carriage. Bucky was there with him. Looking upset, I think. Then Lord Pierce leaned in and whispered something into Bucky’s ear.

“He went a little stiff, his face went blank, but then I must have gone under for a moment and when I opened my eyes, Bucky was gone. Lord Pierce was gone too.

“Even then, my heart was racing. I knew that what I saw wasn’t good, but I could have been dreaming it. And when I asked father if Lord Pierce was in attendance at the procession, he said that he wasn’t. That he’d made sure to exclude him purposely. So, I put it out of my mind.”

Steve’s hands are claws against your back, the rage within him is nearly choking. He wants to scream. To destroy. If he weren’t injured, he might have even torn your house apart with his bare hands.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, he assumes because you can feel his upset.

“No.” He manages to say, voice deep and quaking with his anger. “No, Y/N. You did right to tell me now. I don’t blame you.”

“But I should have said something.” You fret.

Steve looks down at your belly, the agony of almost having lost both of you today eats at him and helps calm him. It levels him out and he breathes in slowly, then releases the breath but pulls you to him in a soft embrace.

“You’re safe.” He shuts his eyes, really letting himself feel you there in his arms. He trails one hand down to rest on your stomach, tracing the shape of the small curve. “You both are. That’s all that matters.”

“What does this mean for the kingdom? For Lord Pierce? For Bucky?” You ask him, looking to him for a response to this new crisis.

Steve doesn’t often feel as if he is a king with people who depend on him.

Though he knows that he does indeed have a responsibility to his people, he doesn’t often feel as if he’s looked on for leadership. Those moments when someone is truly waiting for him to make a decision.

In your eyes he sees devotion and respect. He sees a genuine intention to follow. And yet he knows that even with this willingness, you would easily disagree with him if you felt it were important.

Everyday you are proving to him that you are not only the woman he loves, but the Queen he has needed at his side.

With you beside him, he truly feels as though he could rule his Kingdom with confidence, with grace, and with a will to do better. For you. For his son. And for all of the people who depend on him.

“I will issue a warrant for his arrest.” Steve declares, confident in his decision. “I will state his crimes clearly so that everyone may see what a snake he is. It will ruin his name and he will have no choice but to either turn himself in for trial or run.”

“What if he runs?”

“Then we will follow.” He nods. “He’ll pay for what he did to Bucky. He’ll pay for what he’s done to you.”

You lift your chin, filled with what he hopes is belief that he can do it. That he can bring Pierce to his knees.

“No one hurts my family and gets away with it.” Steve declares. “No one.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“What are you doing?!” Natasha shouts, shoving herself between Tony and Bucky, fully intent on punching if the need should arise.

The beautiful pale stones of Tony’s castle are a stark contrast to the horrors on the bed behind her.

Natasha glances back at Bucky, wary of the amount of blood he’s losing from the countless wounds to his torso.

What tortures her further is the knowledge that she was the one that put three of those stabs into his side.

She’d been careful to avoid his most sensitive spots, but after he’d woken up on the way home, he’d tried to fight his way out.

It took a hard hit from Tony to the back of the head to knock him out completely and he hasn’t woken up since.

“I need to remove the metal of his arm.” Tony replies exasperated with Natasha’s meddling.

“I needs to wait.” She says.

“It can’t. Bruce said I need to remove it immediately. He’ll have to treat that wound too to prevent infection.

Natasha licks her lips, her green eyes blazing with fear.

“Nat…Let me fix him.” Tony pleads.

“I don’t trust you.” Nat replies, brow crinkling with distrust.

“I know.” And Tony can’t blame her. He’d made a bad impression the first time Bucky had shown up altered. Now here is the results of what he’d always feared but he knows better now about what he’s willing to lose by taking certain precautions.

Bucky is irreplaceable to Natasha and Steve. He must respect that if he’s going to keep not only you but the team in his life.

“But you have to.” Tony argues, holding his hands out for her, his tools held tight as he waits for her to move.

Natasha turns around to look at Bucky once more, her face contorted with indecision and grief and reluctantly moves aside.

Tony lunges for Bucky and works quickly on his arm while Natasha cuts away Bucky’s clothing to tend to his other various wounds.

~~~~~~~~~~

“He’s stable for now.” Bruce declares, wrapping up Bucky’s arm recess where before there’d been shredded metal.

“Will he wake?” Tony asks, trying to keep his voice down for Natasha’s sake.

She’s only just fallen asleep, sitting in a large cushioned chair with a high back. Her hand firmly wrapped around Bucky’s scuffed up right hand.

“What did you give her?” Bruce asks, ignoring Tony’s question for a moment as he also looks to Nat to see her sleeping so peacefully.

“Just one of Agatha’s herbs. She’s a witch with herbs.”

“Or just a witch.” Bruce says quietly, fixing Tony with a wary look.

“I’ve been thinking so too. But she’s devoted to keeping Y/N safe so she’s a good one, as far as I’m concerned.” Tony moves to the wall to pull the call. Somewhere in the castle, he’s sure a bell rings.

“She’s going to be upset when she wakes.” Bruce points out.

“She needs the rest. Thor, Clint, and Peter are out searching. Sam has gone back to Broklin in case they head that way.” Tony assures his friend. “We’ll find them.”

“Y/N is going to be upset that you’ve got Sharon helping Samuel.” Bruce teases, a small awkward smile playing on his lips.

“She’ll deal with it. Finding them is most important right now. Not jealousy.” Tony argues.

Bruce huffs a small laugh, turning to seal Bucky’s bandage before checking on the wounds that Nat had tended to just to be sure they were sealed well.

“You are aware that Sharon snuck into Steve’s room to try and seduce him, and your daughter caught them in bed together, right?” Bruce asks, turning a knowing look to his friend.

Tony blinks, hands clasped at his front before he begins to fix his shirt.

“I am now.” Tony admits. “I’m sure she didn’t let them get away with it. And they seem fine now.”

Mind racing with what might have happened after finding Steve and Sharon like that, he resolves to give Steve a scolding when he sees him.

When. He will find you both if it’s the last thing he does.

“Where are you going?” Steve asks, voice groggy from sleep.

You’re uncurling from his side, moving to his removed tunic to rifle along the front at his expensive baubles and medals.

“To get us some food and something less conspicuous to wear. We don’t know if we’re being pursued. We must lay low.”

“And going into the village to buy things isn’t the opposite of laying low?” Steve asks.

You shake your head. “I’ll only be half an hour and I know the people here. They won’t hurt me.”

Most of them…

“Let me go.” Steve begins to get up, but you frown when he groans.

“No.” You insist, moving to him with a handful of jewels and silver.

You push him back down onto the bed and fix the ratty blanket you’d used to use over him.

“Stop arguing with me.” You chastise him. “I’ll be faster. You’re still wounded.”

“I don’t like you going out there alone.” Steve argues.

“Steven, please. Don’t fight me on this. I will be as quick as I possibly can. I’ll be as invisible as I was before I left. You’ll see. No one will pay me any mind. I was an insignificant orphan. No one will care that I’m here.” You assure him.

“You’re Queen of Broklin.” Steve argues. “And you look like her now, whatever you may think. You don’t look like the girl that came to my castle nearly a year ago.”

“What do I look like then?” You wonder, stripping off your dress before pulling on an old ratty set that you’d had here in the house from before.

It’s thin and meant for summer. Does little to shield the cold but it’s better than your regal, however torn up it might be, gown.

“Even in that you look like an angel.” Steve says.

You can’t help it. You laugh.

“Don’t you think you’re a little biased?” You ask him.

He frowns at you.

“Steve, I’ll be fine.” You move back to him and he welcomes you despite the terrible clothes you’re wearing.

He pulls you in suddenly, no warning as he kisses you hard.

You gasp, hands tense on his shoulders as his lips crush yours painfully.

When he pulls away, he does so slowly, his kiss shifting into tenderness.

“What-?”

“Please be cautious. Don’t talk to anyone that you don’t have to. Turn my cloak inside out and take it. I will not have you and our child freezing.” He worries.

“Why weren’t you this annoying when we first got married?” You tease him and he shuts his eyes, head falling forward to rest against your chest.

You chuckle and stroke his dirty hair, smoothing it out despite the blood and grime still caked into it.

“Please be safe.” He begs, looking up at you again. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, Y/N.”

“You’d go on. Because you’re strong. And you have a whole Kingdom that depends on you.”

Steve sighs. “I don’t want to be rational. I’d gladly follow you into the end.”

“Then I guess I’d better not meet my end.” You decide.

Getting up, you move to his cloak and turn it inside out as he wished. It’s plain gray on the underside. Still a fine fabric but less ostentatious in its stitching. It makes it much warmer in this clothing and it smells like Steve still.

“Stay quiet.” You tell him, then pick up his shield and put it beside him. “I’ll be right back.”

You slip out into the early morning freeze. The wheat fields are barren and give you no cover as you trek across the cold semi-frozen mud. It sticks to your shoes, much too nice for the plain peasant dress you’re wearing but with the cloak they’re somewhat hidden.

You’re tired by the time you reach the edge of the village and take shelter in the smithy’s doorway. He’s already open, an older man who had tried his best to ignore your hunger plight often. Many of the wealthier villagers had made the very conscious decision to pretend you didn’t exist.

You can’t blame them. You were a child in need of care and many of them, though richer than you, still struggled to make ends meet. They had no way of caring for a whole other mouth to feed.

He’s working inside, too busy making his living to care that you’re resting on his doorstep.

It takes you fifteen minutes to walk across the village make your purchase with only a somewhat lingering look from the tailor who must be the only one to notice your absence in the village as you’d always been a bit of a pain to.

You had offered to mend clothing at a cheaper cost and so stole most of her mending business.

“Haven’t seen you around here.” She states, wrapping up your new dress and the clothing and shoes you’ve purchased for Steve.

“I’ve been travelling.” You say quickly. Offering no further explanation.

“You look different.” She says, pushing the parcel over the counter towards you.

Fucking Steve.

“Do I?” You take the package and throw a silver pin on the counter worth six times as much as she’s charging you for the clothes.

Her eyes go wide at the sight, but you don’t wait for her to say anything and instead leave as quickly as you entered.

You buy some food from the bake, just something to tide you both over until you can go hunt something up and pay with a small ruby.

You’re gone before he can respond to the payment.

With both errands out of the way, you make your way back towards your cottage, eager to be back by Steve’s side.

Your trek is quick across the barren fields, pace increasing the closer you get.

It’s just beyond this slope, beyond the windmill.

As you curve around it, smile stretching your lips, you gasp as a large stocky man blocks your way.

Your free hand drops to your stomach protectively as your eyes take in the only threat to you in this village.

“Well, hello, hello, hello. If it ain’t tha little mouse.” He says.

As you take in his pale skin, a messy array of vibrant red curls on his head, your mind provides you with several excruciating memories of his large beefy body pinning you against the tavern wall. His hands tearing away at your clothing. Ripping your skin as angry tears stained your cheeks.

Both times you’d been able to fight him off. You’d been lucky.

As he devours you with his eyes, you can see the wheels in his mind turning.

“You’ve been gone a long time, little mouse.” He grins. “I’ve missed you.”

#king!steve x reader #king!steve x you #steve x reader #medieval au #royal au #medieval fantasy au #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x reader fanfiction #steve rogers x you #avengers x reader #buckynat #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #pseudo princess #pseudo princess pt28

[castieltrash1]

imagine → taking care of darrel after a rumble

requested by/for: @cheoldetat​ ! my baby boo!! we stan me finishing fall requests in spring :0 djfksdjkfjs im sorry LOL. anyway, ily!! xx

warnings: mentions of a fight, brief mentions of blood/knife/cut/etc., smut; gender-neutral reader, blowjobs, handjobs, the SLIGHTEST angst if u squint extra extra hard!!

-

You know why he walks home like this -- leather jacket over his black tee despite the sweat dripping down his forehead and the humid temperature outside. After sparing a glance to Soda and Ponyboy and seeing they’re mostly unscathed -- courtesy of their older brother -- you turn your attention back to Darrel. His shadowed blue eyes betray the half-smile he sends in an attempt to keep you from worrying. I’m fine. I promise.  

Without saying a word, you drag him to the bathroom, forcefully but not holding his hand too tight. His knuckles are probably bruised and bloodied like always, and you don’t want to hurt him any more than the rumble already has.

The other boys and their groans become muffled as you close the door and run the sink, searching through the disorganized cupboards for a washcloth.

“I need to check on them,” Darrel grunts, reaching for the doorknob.

“They’re fine,” you reassure, looking over your shoulder to send him a look that says “dare me.” You know he’s mostly worried about his brothers, like always, but besides a few bruises, you doubt they’re in too bad of shape. Soda can always handle himself when he’s got Steve by his side, and with Darrel, Dallas, and Two on the front lines, you doubt many Socs get through them anyway. 

Your boyfriend sighs, but it’s less exasperated and more tired. The water is warmer now, and you’re able to soak the cloth quickly before shutting the tap off. Normally, a quick once-over is enough to point out the obvious injuries, but his jacket is in the way this time. You know why. It’s not often he puts it on after a rumble, but when he does, it’s because he wants to hide something.

“Jacket off, now.” His tough facade crumbles for a second -- he almost looks fearful. But, you don’t let up, staring at him until he shifts to pull his arms out.

You don’t miss the grunt of pain he lets out, but you don’t point it out either. Taking the jacket from his dirty hands, you set it on the counter. Immediately, your eyes are drawn to his side. His black tee is already dark, but it’s obvious there’s a wet section -- fabric clinging to his torso.

Without hesitating, you reach for the hem and tug it up, exposing a cut a couple of inches in length. Darrel hisses as the cold air hits the sensitive skin. It’s not too deep, thankfully, but it’s not small either. 

“Jesus, what happened?” You immediately press your washcloth to the wound, and he lets out a shaky breath. 

“Switchblade, I think.”

“I thought there were no weapons this time.”

“There weren’t.”

A part of you is about to question if he called the Soc out, but you swallow the words. You know he doesn’t want to participate in these rumbles -- doesn’t even wanna be a greaser.  You doubt he’d willingly start an argument that would lead to an even more violent fight. Maybe if it were Soda or Pony. Not himself, though. Convincing Darrel to prioritize and care for himself is impossible -- you’d have better luck asking Two to sell his old car.

Staying silent, you pull back the washcloth, happy to see the bleeding has mostly stopped, the swelling and irritation declining steadily. 

You reach for the cabinet that holds the bandages -- the second to left. The rest of the bathroom might be in disarray, but the bandaids and gauze are always in the same spot. It’s a simple patch-up job, considering it’s not the first blade cut you’ve dealt with, but you’re as gentle as ever as you cover the wound.

Darrel’s stomach tenses and he lets out a little gasp as your fingers softly press against him, securing the bandaid. Worried you’re hurting him, you look up from between his legs, eyes wide. 

“Are you ok?”

He nods, swallowing. 

You give him an odd look, before glancing back down, and realizing. His jeans are tight, leaving very little to the imagination. His toned torso seems to grow a thousand degrees hotter, and you pull your hands away quickly.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t--.”

He shakes his head, chuckling. It’s the first real smile he’s given you all night, and you can’t help but laugh a little too.

“It’s ok. Your hands are just… nice.”

His cheeks are flushed red now, matching the dried blood on his knuckles. It’s… sweet. His flustered expression gives you some confidence, and you move back to your previous spot, this time letting your hands rest on Darrel’s thighs.

“Can I… Can I take care of you like that too?”

Blue eyes grow wide, and you half-expect him to scold you for your dirty mouth, but he just nods, then smiles a lopsided grin.

He’s still leaning against the counter, and you watch his hands reach behind him to grab the lip of the sink for balance as you drop to your knees. He’s so much from this angle, all lean muscle, and warm, tan skin. The thought of getting your mouth on him almost makes you drool.

You unbutton his jeans quickly, and his large calloused hands help you to tug the denim and underwear beneath down to his mid-thigh. It’s careless and messy, but considering the boys are getting rowdier from beyond the door, and they’re bound to be knocking in a minute or two, you don’t really have another choice.

Darrel is hot and hard in your hands, and he sucks in his bottom lip with a quiet gasp as you stroke him gently. He’s tired and weak and you know it won’t take long to get him more worked up than usual.

Still, you take your time, slowly sliding your hand up and down, before letting your tongue trace the same path. His breathing grows heavy quickly, but you don’t relent, licking back up to his tip before sucking it fully into your mouth. 

“Darling, please.” It’s not often you get a beg out of him, even though this time isn’t much, but you savor it regardless. 

You take a little more, hands still working him, pace growing faster each stroke. Within a few moments, his hips are twitching, fingers digging harder into the counter. You don’t let up, only pulling off every now and again to take a breath, and letting your hand glide through spit and precum to cover every inch of his aching cock.

He’s right on the edge when the commotion in the living room grows louder, and the boys start getting antsier for their turn to wash up. Darrel’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t move, so you continue your motions -- though much faster now.

“C’mon Darry, just let go. It’s okay.” Your thumb presses against his tip before your lips follow, sucking gently on the head of his cock. Your tongue circles the warm skin, and you look up with gentle but reassuring eyes that beg him to release. He does so with a choked groan, and you take all he has to offer, swallowing eagerly and letting his hips jerk himself deeper into you as he rides out his high.

Only when his hand drops to push you away do you let go of him, lips glossy as they frame a dopey smile.

“Better?”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. Before he can answer, a loud knock fills the small bathroom, and you’re thankful you remembered to lock the door. The boys may be many things, but respecting privacy is not a skill they can claim.

“You two alright in there?” Johnny asks, truly concerned, but you hear Steve and Soda giggling like the girls that stop by the DX to ogle them. 

Darrel is quick to readjust, and you wait until he nods to unlock and open the door. All the others are crowded at the threshold, and you can only hope you don’t look a complete mess.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say. “Darry had a nasty cut, and I had to patch him up.”

“Had to get handsy, huh?” Dallas jokes, gesturing to Darrel’s rumpled shirt. You know they don’t have any clue what just happened, and are blaming your boyfriend’s red cheeks on his apparent pain, but you feel your own cheeks heat up regardless.

“It was just his stomach,” you retort, hoping your lie isn’t too obvious. None of them seem to notice though, and Soda and Pony are already too busy scolding their big brother for hiding the injury. He lifts his shirt to show them the bandage, and any attention previously on you is instead on the large bandaid covering his side.

“Well,” Dallas whistles, “looks like you got one hell of a nurse.”

Darrel scoffs, but you shoot him a discreet wink.

“What can I say?” you joke with an exaggerated sigh. “I just know how to take care of people.”

-

a/n: I FINALLY WROTE SOMETHING. THANK U GOD. darrel curtis is just THAT BITCH huh?? we cannot do anything but stan!!

#the outsiders imagine #the outsiders #the outsiders smut #darrel curtis smut #darrel curtis imagine #darrel curtis #darrel curtis x reader #the outsiders imagines #darrel curtis imagines #darrel curtis x reader smut #darrel curtis drabble #the outsiders drabble #darrel curtis oneshot #the outsiders oneshot #darrel curtis x reader imagine #t: writing

[fluffymcu]

Backfire (Bucky x reader x Steve) (all platonic)

@anonymouswritr

The reader is about 16-18

“Hey! Stop thats cheating!” Steve scolds Bucky after he quickly poked around his neck, trying to make Steve lose his streak and crash his kart.

“I’m not cheating, I’m just tickling you.” Bucky chuckles, poking at his ribs while surprisingly still able to drive steadily.

“Yeheah! You’re tihihickling me becahahause you feel threatened that I’ll wihihin!” Steve laughed, trying his best to keep his hands on the controller.

“I just wanna get ahead to make it fair.” Bucky smirked. Steve scoffed.

“It’s already fahahahair! Bucky stohohop!” Steve angled his body away from Bucky’s hands but they followed wherever they went. But luckily, Steve still stayed ahead and ended up winning the round.

“Damn it!” Bucky chuckled and started to really attack Steve.

“Hehehehey! Stohohop I wohohohon!” Steve laughed, leaning down on the couch, unfortunately giving Bucky more leverage.

“This is what you get for cheating, punk.” Bucky growled.

“IHIHIHI DIDNT CHEHEHEAT! YOU DID!” Steve slapped at his hands, occasionally being able to pull Bucky’s arms away. But all he had to do was rip his arms out of his grip and attack him again. Bucky chuckled and only shrugged.

You walked into the living room, greeted with the sound of Steve’s hysterical laughter. Your eyebrows furrowed curiously, a smile growing in your face as you stood behind the couch, where Bucky was mercilessly wrecking Steve.

“What happened?” You chuckled, Bucky looking up at you briefly before turning his attention back to Steve.

“HE CHEATED AHAHAND NOW HEHEHES TORTURIHIHING ME!!” Steve laughed, not being able to push Bucky away anymore since he was now putting all his weight on him.

“Not true. Not at all true. He was being disrespectful. So I’m teaching him a lesson.” Bucky smirked. Steve shook his head, not being able to say much else.

You tilted your head at Bucky. “Yeahhh Steve isn’t the type of person to be disrespectful. You on the other hand... you are definitely the type of person to cheat.” You chuckled. Bucky rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Well, still.” You rolled your eyes at Bucky’s lack of excuse and looked at Steve. He looked so desperate and helpless. It was very rare to see him in this state. Steve was a very strong man and was not easily brought down. However, with Bucky around, he had met his match.

You knew Steve was being tortured unjustly, so you felt bad for him. You knew how ruthless Bucky could be when he was in this type of mood. You’d been a victim of Bucky’s tickly torture countless times.

“Aww poor Steve, he’s all red. Leave him alone Bucky.” You smiled, feeling bad for Steve, since you’ve heard stories of how he was usually on the receiving end of many tickle fights with Bucky back when he was small and scrawny. Bucky paused his antics with Steve and looked up at you, a smirk gracing his features. This made your stomach drop, having and idea of what you just got yourself into.

“Are you saying you’ll take his place?” Bucky asks, his eyebrows raised teasingly. Your eyes widened and you raise your arms in defense.

“What? No, that’s not what I said at all, I-“ You yelp as you were cut off by Bucky grabbing you and pulling you over the couch and onto his lap, securing you tightly. This was bad. Really bad.

“If that’s what you want!” Bucky shrugged and dug his fingers into your sides. You immediately start squirming and laughing your head off. How dare he start this??

“Nohohohohoooo!” You howled with laughter as you twisted and turned to try and roll off his lap. Steve, still panting, sat up a bit and smiled fondly at your hysterical state. He would help, but, 1. He didn’t wanna risk getting tickled again, and 2. You were just being too cute. “Steheheheeeve help mehehehe!” You reached out towards him in hopes of getting his help. But his smirk made you think otherwise.

“I would, but I’m too exhausted to do much else.” Steve shrugged, giving you an apologetic smile. You whined desperately. Bucky chuckled and blew a raspberry on your neck, smiling as you recoiled with a squeal. You were now officially done for.

“IHIHIHI DEFENDEHEHEHED YOHOHOU!” You whined at Steve who shrugged.

“Sorry y/n.” Steve said, smiling when Bucky found a particularly sensitive spot on your ribs, eliciting a stream of giggly cackles. The feeling was so overwhelming, like your brain was only able to process the tingly feeling rising across your body.

“BUHUHUHUCKY STOHOHOP!” You begged as you threw your head back into his shoulder. Bucky smirked and repositioned you to where your legs were on Steve’s lap. As you were too distracted by laughing your little heart out, you didn’t notice Bucky had silently signaled Steve to get your legs. Steve smirked as he thought about it.

After a few moments, he decided to go ahead with the plan and started to squeeze teasingly up and down your thighs. A really sensitive spot of yours. You screamed as you felt extra hands tormenting you, silently cursing him for betraying you. “AHAHAHAHA! TRAITOHOHOHOR!” You laughed, melting into Bucky as he tasered his digits into your bare belly.

You tried to curl in on yourself but with Steve holding your legs and scratching behind your knees, it was impossible. Your muscles began to feel like jelly as you fought to no avail.

“Aww, is it too much for you, y/n? Does it tickle so bad that you can’t take it anymore?” Bucky cooed in your ear, smiling victoriously when he saw you blush tremendously. You shook your head, refusing to give in to his games. “I think it is!” He sang, flipping you over and blowing several raspberries into your belly. You screamed in ticklish agony as you kicked your legs as much as you could.

With Steve mercilessly scratching at the hollows of your socked feet and Bucky blowing raspberries across your bare tummy, you thought you might go mad. “STEHEHEHEVE PLEHEHEHEASE!” You begged, he was your last hope. Maybe you could still convince him to help you?

Steve chuckled and targeted your hips for a few moments, making you convulse and let out more deep belly laughter before sitting back and letting Bucky blow a few more raspberries and finally speaking up.

“Alright, I think she’s had enough. Let’s give her a break.” Steve nodded at Bucky. You sighed, relieved this might be coming to an end.

“Aww, but I was just getting started!” Bucky teased, pinching around your belly and sides, switching up every time you’d try to block him. You giggled loosely and threw your head back in exhaustion, weakly pudding his hands away. With a chuckle, Bucky stopped and let you go. When you sat up, Steve took you in his arms and wrapped you in a hug.

“Sorry we went a little harsh on you. But thank you for defending me.” He smiled.

You were still panting when you looked at him. “I’m glad you appreciate it, because I’m never sticking up for you again.” You giggled. Steve laughed and kissed your forehead before getting comfortable on the couch with you in his arms.

Bucky sighed. “So, that took some energy outta me. Movie?” He asked nonchalantly. You rolled your eyes playfully but nodded nonetheless. Bucky smirked and put on The Lorax, the three of you comfortably relaxing after a tiring session.

#ticklish!reader #tickle fic #tickle #ticklish #tickle fight #avengers tickle #ticklish!steve #marvel tickle #tickle fluff #steve tickles reader #bucky tickles reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america #marvel mcu #marvel #avengers #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #spiderman #steve rogers

[yikesharringrove]

here’s a prompt! what about steve and billy having arranged marriage by their fathers (for the sake of their businesses etc). billy is known to be this playboy, always fucking some guys and steve has heard of him ( andlets say he doesn’t really like him,) but when they meet for the first time, they really hit it off. steve’s so blown away how hot and charming billy is and they would end up fucking in the end..? 🔥

Smut at the end.

-

Steve and his parents had met with Mr. Hargrove eight times over the past two months.

His parents had done the same, having scheduled meetings with Billy and his father, hammering out details, making arrangements, making a deal.

And Steve was going to meet Billy tonight.

At an awkward scheduled dinner with their parents.

He had asked around about Billy when his father came home and told him they would be marrying him off, and, well, Steve wasn’t impressed.

The guy was kind of a slut, known to fuck whoever he wants, whenever he wants. Always had designer drugs and wasn’t afraid to sell or share.

And look, Steve can overlook a lot. But apparently, he was also a major asshole with rage issues and a strong right hook.

And Steve was gonna be married to him.

He knew it was only for money, only because his dad didn’t think Steve was fit to take over his company, so he found someone who could, some guy with a business degree from a good college and an asshole dad that’ll shell out for a marriage to some prestigious family. 

Steve watched glumly as the maids set the dining room table. They had brought out the good china, the shit from his parents own arranged marriage.

The silver had been shined, and a team of professional chefs were busy in the kitchen, making a roast.

A fucking roast.

If tonight goes well, he and Billy will move in together, and be married in six months.

That’s how it always goes with arrangements.

“Buck up, Darling.” Steve looked up at Tess, the sweet women his mother had originally hired as a nanny for him, had kept on as a maid when Steve cried for three days after she was let go. She had helped him pack up his room yesterday, on the off chance he moves in with Billy. “There are worse things than marrying a nice young man.”

“I don’t think he is a nice man. Everything I’ve heard about him says he’s not.”

“Baby, your daddy wouldn’t let you marry some asshole.”

“My dad doesn’t give a fuck about what happens to me. He just wants someone to take over the company.” Steve was scuffing his foot along the soft carpet.

Tess came to sit next to him.

“Baby, you’ll be alright. If he’s a dick, come get me and I’ll smuggle you outta the city.” She mussed his hair as she stood back up. Made him smile.

“Steven, I’ve laid out your best suit. The Hargroves will be here in a few hours. I want you showered and dressed and ready by six.” His mother was standing on the stairs, already had a martini in her hand.

It was easier not to argue.

He took a long shower, sat at the bottom of the tub, letting the hot water beat on his back.

He took his time getting dressed, found himself back downstairs at 6:15.

His mother just rolled her eyes, directing the set up of the food and drinks.

He stood there, didn’t wanna wrinkle his suit.

And then, at exactly half past six, he heard a car engine rumble outside. His parents stood on either side of him, ready to greet their guests.

Steve put on his best face, eyes nice and bright, smile easy and charming.

He shook Neil’s hand, tried not to squirm under his cold stare. And then he met Billy.

And Jesus Christ was he fucking hot.

He was well built, muscular and broad. Just thick in all the best was. His eyes were as blue as Neil’s, but they were warm, a nice blue. He kept his blond hair well trimmed, shorter on the sides, but still longer on top, enough to keep his curls defined.

And his smile. His bright white teeth, and soft lips, and that tongue.

He traced it as Billy licked over his bottom lip, wanted in his mouth, or maybe even in his-

“So nice to finally meet you.” His voice was gruff, velvety, nice.

“You as well.” Steve’s mother looked delighted as they shook hands, Steve flushing when Billy took Steve’s hand in both of his.

Dinner went surprisingly well.

Billy was kind, said all the right things, smiled and laughed in all the right ways. He was a perfect gentlemen, and Steve wanted.

And before they knew it, Billy was sent upstairs to help Steve with his things, waiting for the car that would take them to their apartment in the city. Steve wonders if his fucking dowry was spent on it.

“Hey, uh, I really do like you. Just so you know. Wasn’t puttin’ on much of a show down there.” Billy’s eyes were light.

“Um, thank you. I like you too.” Billy smiled back at him, fumbling in his pocket.

“So, I, I know your parents will probably pick a ring, or whatever, but I brought, on the off chance you didn’t suck, I brought this.” It was a silver band, three small diamonds set into it. “It’s okay if you don’t like it. It was my mom’s. Always kinda pictured proposing with it.”

“Sorry to fuck up your plans.” Billy huffed a laugh.

“You’re not fucking up a damn thing.” Billy took a breath, getting on one knee. “Figured I’d do it right. So that if everything goes well, if I don’t do something to fuck this up, we can have this memory. Just you and me, and a borderline real proposal.” Steve laughed. He knew he didn’t have much choice in the matter, but his heart still fluttered a bit. “Steve Harrington, will you marry me?”

“Yes, Billy Hargrove. I will marry you.”

And Billy kissed him. Kissed him like they were in love, not like this is the first night they’ve ever met, not like they’re near perfect strangers.

-

Tess had been the only one to walk with them out to the car.

She hugged Steve tightly, whispering to him that if this one gets smart, you know where to find me. I’ve got a baseball bat with his name on it.

The car ride was quiet, the two men sitting in the back seat.

“The apartment has two bedrooms. We don’t have to sleep together, or anything. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Steve smiled at Billy.

“That’s up to you. I’m open to anything.” Billy grinned at him, licking over his teeth in a way that made Steve’s cheeks go warm.

“Famous last words, Pretty Boy.”

“Oh, come on. I’m not some blushing virgin. I’ve been around the block a few times.” Billy’s grin went even wider.

“Not savin’ it for our wedding night?” Steve leaned closer to Billy, reached out to adjust his tie, glancing demurely at him.

“Well, Darling. We just got engaged. I think that’s cause for celebration, don’t you?”

-

Billy was on him the second they stepped into the fully furnished apartment.

He pressed Steve against the door, kissing him deeply.

The kiss was nothing like Steve’s bedroom, is was rough, and dirty, and it made Steve fucking hard.

And then Billy lifted him up, and fucking carried him to the nearest bedroom.

And Steve just about came in his pants.

He pawed at Billy’s jacket, throwing off his tie, ripping open the buttons on Billy’s shirt, scattering them everywhere.

“A little hasty, are we?”

“A little horny, more like.” He was staring at Billy’s torso, his defined muscle, his golden skin.

He licked all over, planting sloppy, open mouthed kisses anywhere he could reach. Billy had stripped him over his jacket and tie, working on the buttons of his shirt as Steve slobbered all over his body.

“Jesus, knew I wanted to fuck you the minute I walked in that fuckin’ house. Wanted those long legs around my fucking head while I eat your ass.” Steve stuttered a moan, staring up at Billy.

“Then do it.” Billy shoved him back on the bed, roughly taking off his pants, dragging his underwear with them.

He took Steve’s thighs, forcing them open. Billy shoved him up the bed, climbing up between his legs. He flopped onto his stomach, and spat on Steve’s hole.

Steve choked when he began licking him, flattening his tongue against Steve, pressing against his hole.

Steve reached down, holding onto Billy’s hair with one hand, slowly stroking his cock with the other.

“Fuck, Billy. You better do this once a fucking week when we’re married.” Billy detached himself with an obscene fucking noise, smirking up at Steve.

“Yeah, Pretty Boy? That my keep I gotta earn?” He went back in, licking around Steve’s rim. He let go of Steve’s thighs, putting his hands under his hips, getting a better angle.

He pushed his tongue inside, made Steve jerk, his thighs closing around his head. Steve started when Billy pushed his tongue in as far as it could go, arched his back up, holding Billy right where he wanted him with his hand and thighs, still jerking himself off.

Billy was working his mouth, using his lips and tongue, and his fucking teeth, doing shit Steve had never felt before.

“Shit, I’m gonna, I’m gonna-” Billy shoved his legs open, grabbing his wrist to stop his jerking. Steve whined, pouting up at him. “I was gonna cum.”

“I know. That’s why I stopped it.” Steve whined again. Billy smirked at him, moving up his body to kiss each of his cheeks. “Want you to cum on my cock.”

“You got lube?” Billy was kissing his jaw, trailing down his neck.

“In one ‘a my bags.”

“Condoms? Not that I don’t trust where your dick’s been, but I don’t trust where your dick’s been.” Billy huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, I got condoms.”

“Then go get ‘em.”

“Damn, bossy.” Steve raised an eyebrow.

“So, do you not wanna fuck me tonight? ‘Cause this place has two bedrooms-” Billy groaned, rolling off of him.

“Fine, I’m getting the condoms. Cool your fuckin’ jets, man.” He was muttering as he stomped out of the room. Steve laughed at him, sucking on a few of his fingers, fingering himself open with two.

He had his legs spread open, two fingers getting himself prepped. Billy stopped in his tracks in the doorway, watching Steve, his mouth hanging open.

“Holy fuck, you’re so hot.” Steve smirked at him, pressing his fingers up, arching his back as he dug into his prostate.

“Get the fuck over here and fuck me, Billy.”

Billy didn’t waste anytime, dropping his pants and racing to the bed. Steve pulled out his fingers, putting them back in his mouth as Billy rolled on one of the condoms, spreading lube all over himself.

He kneeled between Steve’s legs, manhandling him into his lap. He pulled him down onto his cock. Steve gasped, scrambling for purchase on Billy’s shoulders.

“Jesus, it’s been a minute.” Steve let his head fall onto Billy’s shoulder. “Feel so full.”

“Or maybe I’m just big.” Billy bucked his hips, made Steve gasp. He wrapped his arms around Billy’s shoulders for a better grip, let him set a steady pace, a fucking rough pace.

Every time Billy bucked his hips, every time he shoved his cock deeper, it punched the air outta Steve’s lungs, made him see fucking stars.

“F-faster,” Steve breathed into Billy’s ear, made him pick up the pace, fuck into Steve that much faster, a little bit harder.

His cock was hard between their stomachs, getting friction every time they moved.

“You feel so good. So fucking tight.” Billy was staring up at Steve, holding him tight. “You’re gorgeous.” Heat spread done Steve’s spine.

“I’m close again.”

“You gonna cum on just my cock?”

“Yeah. Yeah I’m gonna cum.”

“Lemme see you, Sweet Thing. Gonna look so pretty. Already know.”

Steve was panting, looking down at Billy with dark eyes.

His face screwed up, his body going tight as he came. His hips jerked, and he made all these beautiful breathy noises.

Billy bucked a few more times, biting at Steve’s neck as he came. He took Steve with him as he slumped over, still holding him close.

“You’re different than I was expecting.” Steve brushed his fingers over his cheekbones.

“What were you expecting?” Billy grabbed his hand, kissing his palm.

“I asked around about you. Heard you were kind of a playboy. Bit of an asshole.”

“Used to be.”

“What changed?” Billy sighed, untangling himself from Steve to roll onto his back.

“You.”

“What do you mean?”

“My, uh, my dad was. He was so bad to my mom that she left. When he told me I was getting married I, I didn’t wanna be that. Do that to you. Shaped up.”

“Thank you, then.”

“Nah, thank you. I think I like myself better this way.” Steve smiled at him, leaning forward to kiss his nose.

#yikes writes #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

[tonystarkissist]

I don't know if you're taking requests (don't have to do it if you don't want to) but Peter's on a mission with the Avengers and gets hurt he tried to tell the other Avengers (he doesn't want to to worry Tony) they think it's just small thing and cap tells him to walk it off. After Tony finds him he asks why didn't you tell anyone "I did and cap told me to walk it off" Tony is angry and gives cap a good talking to. Bonus: After this Tony and peter cuddle on the couch while watching a movie.

Alright here we go! Sorry for the kinda long wait anon. It’s been a while since I’ve written a one shot.

WARNING: Mild Description of a Panic Attack

“Alright Peter, you got this. You got this, Peter,” Peter whispered to himself under his breath. “You got this.”

He flipped his way through the chaos, shooting webs from every angle he was able. He saw Falcon zoom by him, taking out whatever androids he had missed on his way by and Peter couldn’t help but grin. It was like he was actually a part of the team and he couldn’t help his fanboy heart from swelling so big it warmed his chest.

Tony would be so totally pissed once he found out… but still, this was totally epic.

“Kid, pack of 10 with Nat at your 4 o’clock.” Falcon’s voice crackled in his ear through the comm system Captain America himself had FRIDAY transfer through Karen when he’d jumped in and joined the fray. 

“Got’em thanks!” He chirps, maneuvering midair to throw himself towards the group of evil bots attacking Black Widow… The Black Widow. Oh boy he was gonna fanboy so hard when this was all over. No doubt.

He helped her take them out no problem and she winked at him. Like… actually winked. 

“Don’t know why Stark’s kept you under wraps so long, kid.” Peter grins through the mask at her backhanded compliment and then she was running away, flipping off the hood of a totaled car to kick a droid in what Peter assumed to be its face. Then she was talking again, but it was through the comms and Peter may or may not have started hyperventilating. “The kid’s got skill, Steve. You might be able to use him against the big guy over there.”

“Alright, catch that kid?” Steve Rogers' voice crackles through his earpiece. “Meet us up here on 15th. Be careful though, this guy’s got a mean swing.” 

Peter couldn’t believe it… he was actually going to fight alongside Captain America. He wasn’t going to just be on the outskirts of the real battle helping to catch the stragglers and evacuate citizens. He was going to do something important. 

Oh god Tony was so gonna kill him. 

But that didn’t deter him at all as he swung his way to join Captain America and Co.

It was going fairly well until it wasn’t.

He’d gotten back handed by the huge robot several times already and, okay, maybe his insides felt like they’d been shattered multiple times, but he was fine! He was totally fine. The adrenaline was keeping most of the pain at bay, so he was fine.

Then he was thrown through a wall, rolling across the hard cement floor of some building before he came skidding to a halt at the center of the large open expanse… It looked like a parking garage. 

He groaned then hissed in pain, rolling onto his other side as he hugged his chest. His head was throbbing and he’s pretty sure every rib in his body had been fractured. No. Every bone.

God that hurts.

“Peter. Several injuries have been detected. Shall I alert Mr. Stark?”

Hell no, Peter couldn’t help but think. There was no way he was going to interrupt Mr. Stark in DC when the man had given him explicit instructions to lay low and be safe while he was gone. Besides… if Mr. Stark found out, he’d make Steve take him out of the fight and Peter can’t let that happen. He’s gotta help or else a lot of people would get hurt and it’d be his fault.

So, he scrambles to his feet and winces when he felt a slight throb in his right ankle. Yeah… not good. “No, Karen,” he winced, “I’m fine. Don’t tell Mr. Stark.”

Then there was a loud rumble and the ground beneath him shook. He stared down at the space between where his feet were awkwardly planted and his eyes widened when he heard several small pieces of gravel from the ceiling over head splatter on the ground. Peter swears he hears a distinct crack too and-- oh god the building’s gonna fall.

It was going to fall. He had to get out of there! It was going to fall and he was going to be trapped! And he was going to be all alone and nobody would ever be able to find him!

“Spiderman!” Captain America shouts through the comms with a pained grunt. “Where are you?! Get out here we need you! Hurry it up!”

Peter whimpers. He hugs his chest tighter, head whipping around to find his quickest exit because he had to get out of here before it fell on top of him and trapped him forever. The building was going to fall. It was going to fall right on top of him and he’d never be able to get out.

There’s another rumble and a harsh shake, followed by even more crumbling pieces of cement along with several chunks of rock raining from above as well. Peter cries out in a panic, arms flying up to cover his head as he cowers away from the falling debris. He’s frozen to the spot, eyes blown wide as he focuses his energy on controlling his breathing so he could actually force himself to MOVE goddammit! Oh god, he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. He needs to get out of here!

“Spiderman!” Steve calls again over the comms with frustration lining his tone. Peter winces at the noise, but he answers despite his discomfort.

“Here sir,” Peter whispers, cowering away from the sound of his own voice. It was too loud. Too loud.

Ok… so maybe this is worse than he thought. Panic attack… not good.

“Get out here then, kid.” That was… that was Falcon's voice this time.

Peter gulps and he forces his foot forward, then the other. He watches the ceiling carefully as he makes his way through the half full parking garage, watching to make sure it wouldn’t catch him by surprise. He runs through the instructions Mr. Stark taught him for when he was having trouble breathing in situations such as this… he imagined the man’s voice coaching him through his breathing.

“Um-um sir…” Peter swallowed thickly once he caught his breath… Maybe Steve could help him. Maybe he could help like Mr. Stark helps him. “The-the building is going to fall.” Or maybe he’d realize that he’s not doing so well and sit him out just like Mr. Stark would do.

“What building?” The Captain at least had the decency to sound concerned.

“The building I’m in. The Parking Garage.” Peter answered, stepping closer and closer towards an open space he could escape from.

“Are there any civilians?”

“No.” Peter answered, sounding ashamed and childish.

“Then get out of there and get out here!”

Peter swallowed. He knows he shouldn’t… his whole body is screaming and now that he’s stopped fighting he can feel every cut on his body, and every step he took felt like his entire body was screaming. And god, he can’t breathe again… oh god. The building’s gonna fall and the only person that cares enough to actually get him out is a whole state away. 

Maybe he does need Mr. Stark after all.

“Um-um sir… I got um… I’ve gotten pretty banged up. I don’t think Mr. Stark would want me to--”

“Just walk it off, Spiderman. If you can still walk, you can still fight. We need your help.”

So Peter gulps down his panic and takes a running leap out of the building, landing in a deserted alleyway just outside. His breathing is still labored, his chest is still burning, and he’s pretty sure his ankle had officially snapped from the landing… but he’s out. Oh goodness he’s out. He got out. The building didn’t fall.

He falls to the ground, gloved hands covering his masked face as he leans against the alley wall and brings his knees to his chest. He’s out. He’s safe.

Then he cries… he knows it’s stupid. He knows. He should just walk it off like Captain America told him too, because that’s what a real hero would do. But, instead, he cries. Maybe it’s from relief or from the influx of input attacking his senses or maybe it’s the adrenaline completely wearing off and allowing him to finally feel the fatigue and the pain  encompassing him, controlling him, and screaming at him. His muscles tightened as he fought off the urge to scream and he just-- he couldn’t move. 

The commotion going on in the battle around him was so loud the vibrations reverberating on the ground beneath him shook him to the core which only heightened the throbbing pain in his head. He wanted to get out of here. He needed to get away but he couldn’t move. It was too loud! He needed to get away… but he couldn’t tell Captain America… he has to be better than this. He-he can’t be knocked down by a few bruises, a stupid trauma, and some loud noises. He was Spiderman for god’s sake.

“Just walk it off, Spiderman. Just walk it off.” He repeats it like a mantra until his teeth are gritting with such strength he’s sure he’d have broken his jaw by now if he were a normal human.

He needed to get out of here… 

“Peter, you are in severe distress. Contacting Mr. Stark.”

And he doesn’t protest this time.

***

Tony had gotten the call from Steve that New York was under attack… again. So he had politely dismissed himself from his meeting with the President and began the uneventful flight back to the city, knowing good and well the fight would probably be over by the time he got there anyways. 

He hadn’t felt the impending panic to rush until a half hour later when he received an alert on his HUD transmitted from Peter’s suit. He tensed, a cold sweat springing forth, then commanded FRIDAY to patch him through to Peter with a worried waver in his voice.

The line clicks and Tony doesn’t hesitate.

“Peter?! Peter! Peter do you hear me?”

Nothing. 

“FRIDAY, is he unconscious?” He’s panicking. What if the kid was hurt from the attack? Had he tried joining in to help?

“No sir,” FRIDAY answered. So Tony tried again.

“Peter, buddy. Peter, answer me pal. C’mon. You got me worried here.”

There was a small whine of acknowledgement and nothing else. At least the kid was alive. He was almost to the city… he was almost there, but he pushed the suit even harder. “FRIDAY, track his suit and get me on the team’s comm.”

“On it, Boss.”

He was met with a pained huff from none other than Captain Rogers himself. “You almost on site Iron Man?”

Tony doesn’t bother with pleasantries, but he does his best to tap down on his panic and remain calm.

“What the actual F*CK, ROGERS?!”

Ok, maybe not so calm.

“Wha-- Tony. I’m sorry to interrupt your important meeting but I believe this constitutes as an emergency.” Tony hates that he taught the man sarcasm, but at least he sounds peeved at his rudeness. Good. 

“Where’s the kid?” Tony spit, coming up on the outskirts of the city, dipping lower and beginning to weave his way through the skyscrapers to reach the location of the blinking dot on his HUD. He was going a bit faster than he probably should, but he needed to get to Peter.

“What kid?”

“You know DAMN WELL what kid! Where’s Spiderman?!”

“He was fighting with us just fine Tony. Calm down. We haven’t seen him for a few minutes, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Well he’s not,” Tony spat. “I gave you one order--”

“You don’t make the orders Tony,” Steve interrupted, sounding just a little more pissed off at his attitude, but Tony was not having it right now. 

“No!” He snaps, “This is where you shut it! The only reason you’re in charge is because I’m too goddamn busy keeping the world intact to micromanage and babysit all you idiots all hours of the day. You understand?! You put my kid in danger when I explicitly told you to stay the hell away!” And with that, he zooms right past the pitiful “threat” Steve, Bucky, and Sam were duking it out with, straight towards an alleyway behind an unstable looking parking garage.

“Tony! We need your help. The kid will be fine for a few minutes. You need to--” 

FRIDAY thankfully cut off communications before he could lose it on Steve and say something he wouldn’t regret. He landed with a harsh thud and he stumbled out of his suit, rushing towards Peter’s form huddled in the corner of the alley.

“Hey, kiddo,” He whispers softly, grabbing for the edges of the kid’s mask to pull it over his head so he might be able to breathe properly. He sees the trail of tears falling along his cheeks and the redness around his eyes as his chest heaves up and down with each struggled breath.

“Hey,” he tries again, this time grabbing the kid’s shoulders and pulling him close. “Calm down, Buddy. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

And then he sees the blood.... And the mangled foot... Okay, maybe he’s not so okay.

“FRIDAY. Scan him for injuries,” he instructs his AI under his breath. “Kiddo,” he then addresses Peter, “can you tell me what hurts?”

He’s met with a quiet keen as the boy slowly lifts his hands to clamp over his ears. “Loud,” he whines, curling further into himself as a loud crash erupts near the battle site.

Tony instantly knows what’s wrong and he begins rummaging through his pants pockets as he scans the list of injuries FRIDAY displayed on his watch. Broken ribs, broken leg, dislocated shoulder, lots of abrasion and gashes, lots of bruises, and a possible concussion… what the HELL was Rogers thinking? 

He tamps down on his anger and is able to fish out the special earbuds he always carried around for instances just like this. He moves forward to pull Peter’s hands away from his ears so he could insert the devices gently, being careful to not jostle him or touch his skin too much. The kid may not say anything about it, but Tony isn’t ignorant to the pain and discomfort that comes with touching when Peter’s senses are going haywire with hypersensitivity.

Once both are fitted in either ear, Peter’s body visibly sags with relief and Tony pulls him close, combing hair out of his face with a soft brush of his fingers. He’s careful of the cuts and bruises dressing the boy’s face and he swallows past a lump of fury as he slowly turns his comms back on.

Steve was already shouting at him, but he was quick to interrupt him with a quiet fury. He’s sure Peter could feel the rumble of his deep growl vibrate through his chest.

“Tell me what happened,” Tony interrupted with a huff.

Steve paused, obviously not a fan of being bossed around, but he gives in anyway. “This guy showed up in a powered suit which we think is supposed to be a knockoff of the Iron Monger--”

“I don’t give a shit about that lousy fight. Tell me what happened with my kid.”

“Stark,” Steve scolds, a sharp bite to his tone, “you seriously need to get your head on right. Get your priorities in check. The kid is fine. He can take care of himself.”

“I swear to GOD Rogers. If you don’t tell me what the hell happened this instant, the world’s gonna have a jolly ol’ time figuring why Iron Man blasted Captain America’s head into Timbuktu. You copy?” He moves away from Peter to allow the suit to surround him, then he picks him up carefully. One of the kid’s knees were busted and ribs on both sides were fractured so he tucked the kid close to his armor and tried not to jostle him, chest to chest and Peter instinctively wrapped his limbs around the armor.

Then Steve was explaining with helpful details pitched in here and there from the others.

“The kid was freaking out about the building falling and not feeling all that great or something and Cap told him to get on outta there and to walk it off so he can get back to helping--” 

“He did what?!” Tony shouts, boots already igniting as he slowly ascends. He’s heard Steve say that too many times to count and it never bothered him all that much before… but he said it to Peter? That was NOT okay. “You told my kid to walk it off when he told you he was hurt and scared? Do you have any idea how long it took for me to drill that self-preservation into him?! Do you have any idea how much pain this kid can withstand without complaining?! He is a child and he was HURT!”

“I didn’t think he was that hurt Tony!” Steve immediately defended. “I thought he was just being--”

“What? Dramatic? You thought a fifteen year old kid who was just thrown through 2 feet of concrete after being tossed around like a limp rag doll was being dramatic?”

“Ok, but--”

“Uh-uh, no buts.” Tony snapped. He turns his suit to face the “threat” the team was oh so struggling against. “I’m done discussing this with you.” He lifts the arm not supporting Peter and aims. “I want you all back at the Tower in an hour for a special meeting since none of you seemed to get this explicit stipulation the first time around.”

“You can’t be serious,” Natasha argued, “this thing is still terrorizing the… city…” Just as she finishes off her sentence, Tony’s newly designed missile hit it’s mark and the hunk of metal fell to the ground without so much as an explosion, along with its fleet of lousy robots. 

“One hour,” Tony growls. “If you’re late, then you can find somewhere else to sleep and mooch off of from now on.”

Then with that, he hugged his kid closer and took off towards the Tower, already contacting Helen and instructing her to get the medbay ready.

**Bonus**

Tony locked himself and Peter away in the penthouse after Helen finished treating the last of his injuries. He’d kept himself busy after she kicked him out while she was operating by telling each of his teammates off for putting his kid in danger and ignoring his small plea for help. Thankfully, they all kept silent during his harsh lashing, even Steve… he supposed it might be because he seemed a little unhinged, and, well, they’d never really seen him emote any type of emotion except for maybe a little irritation here and there. So he supposed their stunned silence was excusable.

But, he’s sure he was able to get the point across this time around. They’d never dare do anything like that again unless they wanted to find themselves facing some serious consequences. Hell he has all the power in the world to make their lives miserable. They depend too much on him to dare risk going against him.

So, now, here he was with his kid huddled close to him as they watched movies long into the night as his team licked their wounds a few floors below. 

“Tony,” Peter whispered, voice hoarse from disuse. Tony turned down to look at him. “I’m sorry.” The kid sniffed and maybe it was Tony’s imagination, but the kid’s arms seemed to squeeze around his waist just a little tighter.

He sighed and leafed his hand through Peter’s shower damp hair. “Don’t be sorry… just… next time, listen to me, yeah?”

Peter nods. 

“I just… I wanted to-- I couldn’t just not help.”

Tony humms, nose pressed firmly against his crown. “I see your predicament… you did good by the way. Just… I don’t want you getting involved with things like that without me there to back you up, alright?”

Peter pulled away far enough so he could look up at him with a frown. “You’re not always gonna be there to protect me Tony,” he argued, “I can do things myself. You said you trusted me.”

“I do trust you,” Tony agreed, “it’s just all the other bastards in the world I have trouble trusting.” He pushed back the kid’s hair, the backs of his fingers brushing against his forehead. “I just need to know you stay safe, and I know I won’t always be there… but I can try to be.”

“How will I ever grow if you never let me do things on my own?” Peter continued arguing petulantly, and Tony could sense the boy’s irritation rising. 

“Peter,” he replied sternly, “whether you like it or not, you’re my top priority. I don’t care if you’re fifteen or fifty, I will always do everything in my power to make sure you’re safe. You understand?”

Peter’s lip stuck out and he nodded his head pitifully, body falling against him once more. “Yes’sir.”

“Good. So, maybe next time, instead of deliberately disobeying me, give me a call or something if I’m out of town so I can at least be your voice of reason as I’m commuting. That way I may be able to keep you from flying head first into something you shouldn’t. Or maybe wait till I’m there and can properly assess the situation.”

“Fine,” Peter grumbled.

Tony smiled, and FRIDAY cued up their next movie. 

Half an hour in and Peter was yawning nonstop, eyes blinking lethargically until they eventually slipped closed. Just when Tony was sure the boy had fallen asleep, the kid surprised him again.

“You totally told off Captain America.”

“Sure did,” Tony chuckled.

He could feel Peter’s grin spread across his face as he whispered once more before finally slipping off to sleep. 

“So badass.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! Hit me up with any other fic requests. Can’t guarantee they’ll be done in a timely matter, but I try XP

#irondad #tony stark #peter parker #not steve rogers friendly #protective tony stark #hurt peter parker #irondad fic request #panic attack #for some reason the keep reading Th ing is glitching and i dont know how to fix it so... sorry

[hopelikethemoon]

Trouble (Javier x Reader) {MTMF} [Smut]

Title: Trouble Rating: Explicit  Length: 3400 Warnings: Angst (whatever you read just know that it will ALL BE OKAY) and Smut (bath sex, fingering, masturbation, stuff)  Notes: You can find the Maybe Today, Maybe Forever Timeline here. Set in March 1997. Full disclosure this idea was brought on by an anon two nights ago and lots of spitballing with @grapemama​. I had actually humored going this route at one point, but the anon tipped me over the edge. EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY. Our couple is solid 100%. Fear not. This will resolve itself over the course of 3-4 updates.  Summary: Javier has trouble at school. 

Taglist:  @grapemama  @seawhisperer @huliabitch @pedropascalito @rogrsnbarnes​@thewallpapergoesorido @twomoonstwosuns @gooddaykate @livasaurasrex @ham4arrow​@hiscyarika @plexflexico @readsalot73 @hdlynn @lokiaddicted @randomness501​@fioccodineveautunnale​  @roxypeanut @just-add-butter @snivellusim​@amarvelousmandalorian @lukesrighthand @historynerd04 @mrsparknuts​@synystersilenceinblacknwhite @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @exrebelshocktrooper​@awesomefandomsunited @ah-callie @swhiskeys @lady-tano​

Javier had a funny look on his face when he got home from work. You could tell something was bothering him, given the deep crease between his brows, and the way his jaw worked occasionally like he was trying to figure out what he was going to say. After dinner he worked on unboxing the rest of the kitchen items — instead of helping you with Josie’s bedtime like he typically did. 

By the time you had convinced Josie that it was bedtime and not playtime, Javier was still in the kitchen tinkering with putting together the spice rack you had purchased at Ikea. You watched him watching you out of the corner of your eye as you busied yourself with making a mug of tea beside.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” You questioned as you turned the kettle on to boil, “Or am I going to have to guess?”

Javier’s shoulders sank as he sat the little metal wrench down on the counter. “Some shit’s going on at work.” He admitted, the muscles in his jaw clenched so hard you could see a tick in it. “Baby, with your blood pressure…”

You crossed your arms across your chest and gave him a look. “My blood pressure will only get worse if you keep sulking around the house like you are.” You met his eyes. “What’s going on?” As far as you knew, he was doing well at the university… he likely wasn’t going to get laid off. That would fucking suck, considering you had just bought the house. But you both had savings, given the time in Colombia was nearly expense-free. 

“There is a rumor…” Javier’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed thickly. “That I am involved with a student.” He couldn’t have timed the answer better, given the high pitch whistle of the kettle as the water reached boiling.

You laughed. “Well, that’s bullshit.” 

“You don’t—”

“No, of course I don’t believe it.” You rolled your eyes and shoved him out of your way to grab the canister of teabags. You knew Javier better than that. You couldn’t even humor the idea of him doing anything remotely inappropriate with any of his students. Maybe before… in the beginning, but now? 

“Baby, I…” 

You looped the label of the teabag around the handle of your mug, pouring the water into it. You grabbed a small plate and sat it on the top, turning back around to look at him. “Javier, I trust. I have for a long time. I know you’re not an idiot… If you pulled that shit you’d be buried in our brand new backyard with so much lye there won’t even be a stain left.” 

Javier lifted his hands and raked his fingers through his hair. “It’s fucking awful.” He bit down on his bottom lip as he looked at you. “And I have no fucking clue who is running around spreading this rumor. The dean clearly knew…” 

“Is this serious?” You questioned, your brows furrowed as you stared at him. 

“I don’t know. The dean called me into his office mid-day… just to ‘let me know’ what was going on.” He laughed bitterly, turning away then. “All over a fucking rumor.” 

“God, I hope the women at ballet don’t ever catch wind of this.” You shook your head as you turned back towards the counter, taking the plate off your tea and straining out the teabag. 

Javier moved towards you, reaching into the cabinet above your head to grab the honey out for you. “And you believe me? You’re not just pretending?”

You turned to look at him, “Do I have a reason not to believe you?”

“No.” 

“Well there you go.” You took the honey from him, squeezing some into your tea. “It’s probably just a stupid rumor. If the moms at ballet are any indication… you’re a catch Peña.” You gave him a once over. “Still figuring out why.”

Javier moved to stand behind you, resting his chin against your shoulder as he smoothed his hand over your stomach. “I was dreading this conversation all evening…” He admitted quietly. 

You leaned back against him and took a small sip of your tea before sitting it back down on the counter. “Your daughter wanted you to read her a story.” You told him, reaching back to stroke his cheek. “But I didn’t want to impose on whatever this mood was about.”

“I was scared…” Javier breathed out. “I thought… I really fucking thought you’d believe it. With everything… before.” 

You tilted your head back to rest against his shoulder so you could look at him from that angle. “Javi, that was a long time ago…” You brushed your fingers over the faint scruff that was growing on his jaw. “There is no part of me that is concerned about that.” You turned then, draping your arms over his shoulders. “You’re also oblivious to women’s advances, so I find it hard to believe that anyone tempted you to go astray.” 

“No one tempted me to go astray, baby.” He insisted and you could tell from the way the corners of his eyes creased that it was tearing him up inside. “I hate this.”

“It’s just a rumor,” You reminded him, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s just someone who has their wires crossed. It’ll blow over.” You chewed on your bottom lip, holding his gaze. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not going to murder me in my sleep?” He questioned with feigned humor. 

“Only if you steal the covers.” You leaned up and brushed your nose against his while giving his shoulder three little squeezes. “I’m going to drink my tea before it gets cold.” 

“Sit with me?” Javier questioned, his hold tightening at your hip. “The sun’s about to set.” 

You smiled a little, “You’re being ominous again.” 

He rubbed at the back of his neck, “This day’s been hell and I just want to relax with you.” 

“Alright.” You picked up your mug and nodded your head towards the back door. He took your hand into his, leading you out onto the patio. 

“I’m looking forward to summer evenings out here.” Javier mused as he settled down on one of the picnic table chairs. 

You took a sip of your tea, watching him for a moment before you looked out over the yard. The evening sky was awash with golden yellows, oranges, and reds. The haze of night starting to cast everything with shadows. “Me too.” You sat your cup down on the table, pulling out the chair beside him. 

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth and shook his head slowly. “We’ve got some fucking  luck.” 

“Hmm?”

“The doctor says you’ve got high blood pressure—“

“It’s not that high.”

“I’ve got these stupid fucking rumors to deal with.” He scrubbed his hands over his face. “Baby, I’m mad.”

You picked up your tea and took a slow sip of the hot liquid. Now you understood why he wanted to go outside. It had nothing to do with the sunset and everything to do with not waking Josie. 

“And who are you mad at?”

“Fate. The world. God. Take your pick.” He seethed, slapping the tops of his legs as he sank back. 

“Do you still feel like you’re being punished?”

Javier huffed, “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me.”

“Well?”

“Yeah.” He gritted out. “Of course I think I’m being punished. This shit? This rumor… The fucking irony of it all.” Javier’s shoulders shook with a humorless laugh. “You knew me in Colombia, you knew how I was—”

“Yep.”

“The happy perpetual bachelor.” He dragged his fingers through his hair, the strands falling loosely across his forehead. “I finally found ‘the one’ and now I have to deal with this shit?” He looked towards you then, his lips drawn into a thin line. “Baby, you believe me. Don’t you?” 

You picked up your tea and took a sip, before sitting it back on the table. “If I didn’t believe you I wouldn’t be sitting here, Javi.” You scraped your teeth over your bottom lip. You really did believe him. You had no reason not to believe him. You knew exactly who Javier Peña was, but you also knew he wasn’t stupid enough to fuck a student. 

You, Josie, and his unborn baby would be gone before he could even say your name. 

If this had been ten years ago, you would’ve believed it. The man you first met wouldn’t have hesitated to get involved with some hot little co-ed, but ten years ago you probably would’ve encouraged him to. But the man sitting beside you wasn’t that Javier. 

“Javi,” You said softly, scooting your chair closer to his so you could reach out and brush your fingers through his hair. He had flecks of grey in his hair now, a sign of the years that had passed since that first time you met him. There were laugh lines around his eyes, etched into his skin from five years of laughter and love with you and Josie. 

You stroked the back of your knuckles against his cheek, “I love you.” He relaxed ever-so-slightly, his shoulders sinking as some of the tension eased from his body. “I trust you. Implicitly. There is no person in this world that I trust as much as I trust you.” You smiled at him when you turned to meet your gaze. “I trust you with my life, my body, my heart.” 

Javier’s jaw rocked and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip. “I still remember the way you looked.” 

“What?” Your brows furrowed. 

“After Steve left… after everything.” He took your hand into his, squeezing it gently. “It was weeks later, I had already given up hope.” Javier looked away, shaking his head. “The informant. The one I slept with. You came into the office that morning and heard the tail end of my conversation with Tom and…” 

You couldn’t look at his face, you lowered your gaze to stare at your joined hands. You remembered the way you had spent the rest of the morning wondering if you had been no better than that woman — if you were just another fuck for him to brag about. 

“I felt like shit,” Javier admitted quietly. “Didn’t get any fucking information either.” He huffed, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “It made me realize how much I wanted you and I didn’t think I ever would.” He squeezed your hand. “I wouldn’t do anything to lose this.” 

“I know.” You brought his hand to your lips and brushed them against each knuckle, before pressing a kiss to the spot just above the ring on his finger. “This will blow over, Javi. You can’t beat yourself up about something you didn’t do.” 

Javier reached over and cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb over the rise of your cheekbone. “I thought you’d look at me like that again.” 

You closed your eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch. “I misunderstood the situation, Javier. We both did. I thought I was no better than your informants, your hookers… Just another warm body to help you forget that you were alone.” You turned and kissed his palm, before you sat back and stared at him. “We both fucked up in Colombia, but there’s nothing we can do about that.” 

Javier nodded solemnly, “It’s all just fucking bullshit.” 

“What if I come to class tomorrow?” You questioned, chewing on your bottom lip. “I bet I can figure out who started the rumor.” You wiggled your brows, trying to offer a moment of levity. “Nothing’s more intimidating than an angry pregnant woman.” 

Javier laughed a little, shaking his head. “I’ll handle it.” 

“I wonder if Monica knows.” You pursed your lips thoughtfully. “I could get her to fish around for information.” The girl owed you, you had helped her get an internship at the Miami PD. 

“What if it’s her?”

You frowned. “Do you think it is?”

“The dean wouldn’t tell me who.” Javier shrugged. 

“Well, if it is Monica she’s a fucking idiot.” You gritted out. “You don’t bite the hand that’s given you an internship of your dreams.” You folded your arms across your chest, shaking your head. “I hope it’s not.”

“I hope this just goes away.” Javier rubbed at the back of his neck. “You ready for bed, baby?” 

“I think I’m going to take a bath.” You took another sip of your tea, before downing the lukewarm liquid. “You’re welcome to join me.”

Javier arched a brow, a faint smirk playing over his lips. “Go run the water, I’ll grab a beer.” 

“You’re not gonna get in?” You questioned with a playful pout as you stood up. 

“I might,” Javier stood, resting his hand on your stomach. He held your gaze as he stroked his hand along your side. “Thank you for believing me.” 

You reached up and stroked the back of his neck. “There’s no question about trusting you.” You assured him, drawing him down so you could kiss him. Your lips moved gently against his, fingertips playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you, Javi.” 

“I love you too.” He brushed his nose against yours, his shoulders relaxing as you ran your hands over them. “I’ll be there in a couple minutes.”

You nodded your head, before you headed in through the doorway that led from the patio into your bedroom, while he headed through the doors that led back towards the kitchen. There were still a few boxes in the corner of the bedroom — you were slowly making your way through unpacking. 

Did it count if you had mentally unpacked already? 

Maybe tomorrow you’d feel differently about this situation. Tomorrow you’d probably spend the day plotting the demise of whoever had started the rumors. Right now, you just wanted to relax. The doctor had, after all, recommended that you take things easy. It wasn’t good for you. 

You sank down into the warm water, slipping beneath the water to get your hair wet before reemerging. You sank back against the bath cushion, lifting your foot out of the water to turn the faucet off. 

“That bathtub’s the whole reason you wanted this place, isn’t it?” Javier questioned as he stepped into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He lifted the beer bottle to his lips, taking a pull before he moved to sit on the edge of the tub.

“You’ve learned my devious plans.” You laughed, stretching out comfortably beneath the water. “It’s relaxing. Especially now.” You rubbed your hand over your stomach, smiling at him. “Are you really not going to join me?”

Javier shook his head slowly, “I’m good right here, baby.” He sat the beer bottle on the floor, turning a little to look down at you. He popped the first three buttons of his shirt, sweeping his fingers through his hair. “Today was a fucking day.” 

You reached up and rested your hand on his knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s probably going to get harder before it gets easier.” You cautioned him, “But I’m here for you.” 

“I know you are.” Javier rested his hand over yours, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. He picked the beer bottle up, taking another swig. “You look good in the water.” 

“Yeah?” You laughed, chewing on your bottom lip. You watched the way Javi’s eyes raked over your naked flesh and smirked as he followed the path of your hand downwards. “If you’re just going to sit there… maybe you’d enjoy a show.” 

He took another sip of beer and arched a brow. “You’re going to make me regret not getting in there with you.”

“There’s still plenty of time,” You told him, breath catching in the back of your throat as your hand-dipped between your thighs beneath the water. 

Javier’s tongue darted out over his bottom lip as he sat the beer bottle back down, his attention solely on you now. “Is that good, baby?” He questioned, his voice dropping an octave lower as he watched you. 

“Not as good as you.” You countered, moaning softly as you rubbed a tight circle over your clit. “Javi.” You whispered, lashes fluttering as you looked up at him. God, the way he looked at you. 

He unbuttoned his cuff, rolling the sleeve up his forearm. “Do you have any idea how fucking pretty you are?” Javier questioned, “And all mine.” 

You traced your fingertips along your inner thigh, letting your legs fall apart wider as you held his gaze. He braced himself on the tub with one hand, while he reached down and cupped you beneath the water, stroking his middle finger between your inner folds. 

“Are you all mine?” You questioned, mimicking his tone. Your fingers curled around his forearm, moaning quietly as he pressed two fingers into you. 

“What do you think?” Javier questioned, his thumb circling your clit. 

You let out a breathless laugh, your nails digging into his arm. “I think you need to remind me.” You urged him. “I didn’t want this big bathtub just for me.” 

Javier leaned down and kissed you, his mouth slanting against yours. The kiss was fleeting, he pulled back and stood up. “You drive a hard bargain, baby.” He clicked his tongue against his teeth as he pulled his belt from the belt loops. 

He didn’t even bother taking his shirt off, just his pants and his boxers. 

You all but crawled into his lap, legs resting on either side of his hips beneath the water. Javier’s hands slid up your back, one hand tangling in your damp hair, while the other settled at your hip. Your mouth found his, tongue delving past his lips. 

Maybe there was a fear, deep down. One you weren’t going to address. You had been so afraid, since the very beginning. But the distance, the years, since then had lessened that intrinsic fear. 

A leopard never changes its spots. 

But Javier had. 

Your fingers gripped at the fabric of his now wet shirt as he shifted beneath you, the hand at your hip guiding you downwards. Your moan was caught between your lips, lost in the dance of your tongue against his as he rocked up — his cock pressing into you.

“Fuck.” You hissed out as you moved above him, sliding down the length of him before rising up on your knees. 

Javier lavished your skin with open-mouthed kisses, teeth lightly scraping over your collarbone, before his tongue swept over the marks left. 

Your fingers gripped at his hair, a wanton moan slipping past your lips as he gingerly cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over the hardened peaks of your nipples. You tugged at his hair, meeting his eyes. “Fuck, yes.” Javier grunted out, his hands sliding down your waist, grasping at your hips as he rocked up into you.

The water sloshed in the tub as your bodies moved together. There was no doubt in your mind when it came to Javier. He was yours and you were his. No one could come in between the two of you. They could try, but they would fail. 

You pressed your forehead against his, overwhelmed by the sound of your name on his lips. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you to him as close as he could given the swell of your stomach. 

“I love you.” You whispered, fingers cupping his cheeks as you kissed him. 

The slow grind of his hips sent you careening over the edge, clenching around his cock as the pleasure rippled through you. Javier followed right behind you, body tensing as he came apart deep within you. 

Javier smiled lazily at you as he leaned back against the tub. He pushed your wet hair off your cheeks, his eyes alight with adoration as he looked up at you. “I love you too, baby. You know that, right? You’re it for me.” 

“I know I am.” You kissed his forehead. “We’re going to get through this. Whatever happens.” 

There was so much going on. The move, your pregnancy, pressure at work, this new crisis with Javi, the drama involved with reaching out to the press about everything that happened in Colombia. There was no wonder that your blood pressure was high. Nothing seemed to go easily for either of you. 

But you’d get through it. Together. 

#javier pena x reader #javier pena #pedro pascal x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Painted Windows 16

Masterlist

Warnings: violence, trauma, allusions to abuse, noncon, isolation, torture, suicide attempts and thoughts, further tags to be added.

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

Summary: You come face to face with the soldier.

Note: We’re in the endgame now, haha, you get it. I know it’s been a while but here we go again. <3 Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3 Let me know thoughts, excitement, theories, anything.

Bucky didn’t return that day. Or the next. 

After cleaning up your puke and trying to wash him away from your skin, you spent the hours face down on the bed. You could smell him on the sheets and taste him in your own tears. You could feel the violence of his touch still. The searing along the flesh of your thigh and the ache deep in your core. It was worse than any pain you’d known before; he wasn’t just another nameless man. He was a monster you couldn’t forget. Or escape.

When at last, you stopped sobbing, you succumbed to the pit deepening in your stomach. You ate unsalted crackers and the last of the grapes from the crisper. You opened your notebook, then closed it, opened it again, then tossed it against the wall with a shriek. 

Why write about what happened when it had never ended?

Another day passed. You weren’t lonely, but you weren’t relieved either. It didn’t matter when Bucky came, you knew he would, and you knew what would happen.

You stared out the window. It was dark again. You could see the spring peeking out through the mud. The snow that lingered was dirty and melting. The stars twinkled in the sky beyond the stretching branches of the trees that swayed in the night breeze. But all you could do was look; you couldn’t smell the damp or hear the birds as they returned from their winter sojourn or feel the subtle bite of the dwindling winter. You were like an animal in a cage, at the mercy of others pleasure but not to have your own.

You flinched as you heard the door beep. You turned slowly as it opened and pressed yourself to the tinted glass, your fingers curled around the sill. Bucky shut the door behind him, another shadow in the gloom. The lights flicked on and he planted his hand above the switch as he watched you. 

You stared back, dumbfounded. As much as you expected him, the visit was a surprise. As much you had prepared yourself for the inevitability, the dread drowned you and left you speechless and paralysed. As much as you’d been through, you couldn’t handle anymore.

He dropped his hand to his belt and the noise of the buckle made your skin crawl. He approached the bed slowly, letting his fly gape open as he pulled his shirt over his head. Hs bared his broad chest, that wall of muscle you couldn’t break through, and dropped his shirt without regard. He nodded to the bed.

“Go on.” He eyed the hem of your cotton night shirt. You changed once since he’d left you. You had no one to dress up for, so you dressed for bed. You hesitated as you blinked at the duvet. “Sugar…” he warned, “Don’t make this difficult.”

“Why?” Your voice crackled in the tension. He pushed his jeans down, his excitement was visible against his briefs.

“Don’t act like you had no part in this,” he pointed to the bed. “You’re so desperate to be a victim.”

Your heart hammered in your ears. You neared the bed and pressed your knee to the edge. His fingers lingered on the elastic of his briefs.

“Don’t be stupid.” He hissed. “Naked.”

You pressed your tongue to the roof of your mouth. Don’t cry. That’s what he wanted and you’d done enough of that. You lifted your shirt slowly and let it fall. You rolled your panties down and ignored his movement as he stripped off his briefs. You got onto the bed and laid on your back, waiting for him.

He laughed darkly and snapped his fingers. “Over here,” he beckoned you with his index finger, “On your knees, turn around.”

You bit down and crawled to him. You spun so your back was to him and his hands gripped your shoulders. He squeezed and let out a long breath. He shoved you so you fell forward on your hands. He slapped your ass and you held in your yelp. You hung your head as his fingers danced at the top of your thighs.

He poked at your folds and you quivered. The cold metal pressed to your warmth and he forced his fingers roughly past your entrance, burying them to the knuckle. You clamped your lips shut as he pushed in and out of you several times. He growled in frustration and retracted his hand, lashing your ass once more.

“What’s wrong?” He snarled as he stepped closer and grabbed your hips. “Fucking dry as fuck.”

You closed your eyes as he angled his dick along your entrance and pulled you further back. His tip pressed against your entrance and you opened around him painfully as he forced your legs wider apart. You whimpered and arched your back to ease the intrusion but it still hurt. When he impaled you entirely, he held you there and wiggled his hips.

You hissed as he pulled back and thrust into you as hard as he could. His fingers sank into your flesh as he slammed you into him. The clap of flesh was deafening as he kept a steady motion, working your body against his. You clawed at the blankets and choked on the moans that threatened to rise.

Your body responded, slowly, though it was just as agonizing. You huffed as he sped up. His left hand slid up your back and he gripped the back of your neck. He shoved your head down to the mattress and hammered into you. The bed shook with you and his groans swirled around you.

You slapped at the bed as he ignored your murmured pleas. You bared your teeth and grunted through the pain until he stopped. Until those last, long, stuttered, sharp thrusts left you breathless and weak. He pushed you off of him and your legs went lip as you fell prone across the mattress. His cum trickled down your thigh and he pinched your ass cruelly.

You kicked at him and he caught your ankle. He took your other leg and flipped you over harshly. He squeezed and his raw strength threatened to snap a bone. You stared at him defiantly and pushed yourself up to look him in the eye.

“Do it.” You sneered. “You’ll have to break me before I’ll ever want you.”

His eyes glimmered dangerously and he dropped your legs. He turned and stomped to the door, still naked, and keyed in the code. The door slammed and he left you in silence. You stared, expecting him to return shortly, but he didn’t.

You sat until you were certain he wouldn’t, though really, you could be sure. His cum cooled and turned sticky as the chill seeped into the flesh. He would be back but not soon. You’d have enough time to wash away his touch but not enough to prepare for his next visit.

You watched through the window as Bucky carried the long rifle bag and a duffle to his car. He didn’t tell you he was leaving. He didn’t talk at all anymore; not outside of giving you orders. A week maybe since he’d carved his star into your flesh. A week of solace interrupted only by his startling invasions.

Still you were nervous. The mission could last weeks but you never truly felt safe from him. From that mean streak he called “the soldier”. You shivered as he pulled away from the house and you watched his bumper grimly.

You kept your eyes out the window as you watched the yard. The patches of grass turning green, the sun shining brighter, the birds flitting around collecting twigs, the squirrels scurrying and scrounging. Spring had arrived and yet, nothing had changed. You were still a prisoner. Looking on at the world from the outside.

As your nose tingled and you felt like crying, you turned away. You ignored the television, you were done watching others live a life you’d never have. You sat at the table with the box of patterned paper and began to fold. A sparrow, a swan, a deer; your own little forest of animals.

You wiled away the morning with the creased creatures and as the afternoon beamed through the tinted glass, you sat up and stretched. You yawned as the sun shifted. You stood and walked around as your legs cramped. You froze as you heard the beep.��

He was back already… that couldn’t be good.

You gulped and watched the door open as the pin pad flashed green. Your hands balled to fists but you were faced by a man you were wholly unprepared for. Steve’s brow wrinkled as he looked around the room. The signs of your isolation were clear. Clothes strewn in a pile, your notebook still overturned on the floor, a messy bed, and you; unkempt and confused.

“Dora,” he said carefully as he stepped inside.

“What are you doing here?” You clasped your hands together. “Where’s Bucky?”

“He’s… away. You didn’t know?” He asked.

“I watched him go but…” You glanced around. “You left me with him.”

“Dor, what could I… I shouldn’t have,” he came closer. He reached out and you cowered. He touched your cheek softly. “Look at you. I’m so sorry.”

“He’s your friend.” You drew away. “You can’t save me from him.”

“You asked why I was here,” he said, “Well, why do you think?”

You were too afraid to be hopeful but when you saw the way he looked at you, you couldn’t help the way your heart throbbed. You couldn’t help but think that he might just get you out.

“But… why would you do that?”

“Because he’s not the Bucky I knew. He’s not the Bucky I saved.” He sniffed. “He’s not the Bucky who can save Dora.”

You frowned and pressed your palms to your neck. “You’d really… save me?”

“I’m here. There’s no going back now.” He reached into his jacket pocket. He revealed the paper frog. “You asked for me to take you away, are you going to come with me?”

Your eyes blurred as tears rose. You couldn’t believe it. You just couldn’t but you had to. It was your only chance. Your only true chance. You couldn’t be afraid anymore. Fear had never done you any good.

“Yes, yes,” you said, “I will. Please--”

“Alright, then we better get going.” He interjected.

He went to the dresser and pulled open each drawer. He took out a shirt, jeans, socks, underwear. He handed them to you and searched for a bag to pack away a few more outfits. He turned to you as you crossed to the bathroom and he stopped you.

“Dora. Let me see your leg.” He said.

You looked down, embarrassed. You lifted the hem of your night shirt and turned your leg to reveal the blazing star mottled in your flesh. His face fell.

“Go, get dressed. Quickly.” He tightened the string on the rucksack and you hurried into the bathroom. 

You changed clumsily. The sense of frequency has your pulse thrumming in your ears. As you came out, Steve dropped a pair of shoes before you and searched the closet for a jacket. He helped you pull it on and handed you the bag of clothes.

He grabbed your arm and swept you to the door. He nudged you ahead of him and you stopped dead in the frame. Your eyes rounded and you poked your head out as you peered down the hallway. You were leaving, really leaving.

“Steve,” you gasped, “I--”

“Dor, go,” he said, “We have to go. Now.”

You nodded and stepped out into the hall. Your entire body buzzed and you felt like laughing. It was much too soon for that. You went to the stairs and rushed down onto the landing, barely catching yourself on the railing at the bottom. Steve edged past you and opened the front door.

The song of birds and the whisper of the wind blew through. You placed one foot in front of the other and turned to Steve as you felt the soft sunlight on you. You stood on your toes and grabbed his shoulders. You kissed his lips and he let you. His hand on the small of your back as he parted and urged you through the door.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” you bounced down the steps. “Oh, thank you!”

You followed him to the car and opened your side as he did the same on the other. You hugged the bag to you and sat in the seat. You buckled up as he turned the engine as you shook uncontrollably.

“Steve,” you smiled as he reversed and steered the car around the long gravel drive.

“Dor,” he said evenly as he drove towards the highway.

“I love you,” you sang, “I love you so much!”

He was quiet. He kept his hands on the wheel and stared out the windshield. His long golden lashes caught the sunlight as he stopped at the end of the dirt path and looked onto the black road ahead. He looked at you, his blue eyes warm as the wrinkle left his forehead.

“I love you too,” he echoed and tore his gaze from you. He let out a sigh and stepped on the gas, “Just stick with me, Dor, and you’ll be okay. I promise.”

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #painted windows #series #Fic #Dark Fic #dark!fic #au #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier

[arrow-guy]

Broken Flock (5/??)

Summary: It’s been two years since you uprooted your life and left to figure out who you really are, leaving behind Bucky and Clint with little more than a note as a warning. Now, New York is calling your name and it’s time to go home. How will Clint and Bucky react to your return, and how will the time have affected your relationship?

A/N: Hello, hello, we return with a new episode of Disaster Boys and their Winged Friend. We’re picking up right where we left off last time. Please enjoy!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Word Count: 3k

Pairing: WinterhawkxReader

Warnings: Heights, falling

Part 4

“You sure you’re alright staying behind?”

“(Y/N), I’ve already told you, the two of you need some time outside of the city.” Clint pushes Bucky and I out the door. “Get your asses upstate and get some fresh air. If you’re back before dark, there’ll be consequences.”

Bucky raises his eyebrows. “Consequences? What’re you gonna do? Spank us?”

Clint grins. “Don’t tempt me.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and hooks his arm around my waist. “We’re leaving.”

“Good.”

“We’ll pick up a couple of pizzas on the way home!” I add before Bucky can get me too far down the hall.

Clint shouts his approval and Bucky shakes his head. The smile on his face betrays his annoyance and I laugh. Bucky gives me a half-hearted glare and reaches over to take my hand.

“You think this is hilarious,” he grumbles.

“I think it’s hilarious that you refuse to smile in public.”

“We’re in a hallway.”

“And you treat it like a public space!”

"Other people live in this building, (Y/N), it's not just us!"

"Is this the moment when you finally admit you live here, too?"

“How is that what we were talking about in any way?”

“You said us when you were talking about who lives here, not just Clint and I!” I poke him in the side. “You live here too. Admit it.”

“I’m not admitting anything.”

“Seriously?” Bucky rolls his eyes and moves in front of me to walk down the stairs. He doesn’t let go of my hand. “Bucky, you have spent more nights in either my apartment or Clint’s since I moved back in. You live here.”

“I don’t pay rent. I don’t live here.”

“Then you’re a squatter. A really well-paid squatter.”

“You’re an awful person.”

I hummed. “I know, but you like me anyway.”

“Unfortunately.”

I cackle and follow him down the last few flights of stairs. We load up our bags, the picnic basket, and the umbrella Bucky wanted into the back of the car. The umbrella tries to escape a few times and Bucky has to climb into the car and hold it in while I close the back hatch. Once it’s secure, Bucky helps me get into the car by, first, laying the back of the passenger seat down flat. I tuck my wings as tightly to my body as I possibly can and lay down on the passenger side and Bucky buckles me in as soon as I settle. I pillow my hands under my cheek and wait for the car to warm up so that we can leave.

“You look comfy,” Bucky says.

“This sucks, and you know it,” I grumble.

He laughs. “Maybe.”

As soon as we’re out of the city, Bucky reaches over to me and I take his hand. He softly tells me to get some rest and that he’ll wake me when we reach our destination. I do my best to stay awake as long as I possibly can, I eventually nod off and sleep for about an hour and a half before Bucky gently shakes me awake. It takes me a moment to wake up and realize where we are.

“We’re here already?” I mumble.

“Mhm.” Bucky squeezes my hand. "Come on. Let's set up."

I nod and unbuckle my seatbelt. I open the back passenger door and crawl out across the back of the car seat. I shake out my wings as soon as my feet hit the grass and stretch my arms over my head. I pop my back all the way up and down my spine and I sigh loudly. It takes me a moment to register that Bucky’s driven us out the literal middle of nowhere and parked at the edge of a massive grassy field. Behind us stands a giant wall of trees and beyond that is miles of rolling hills and fields of grass, rippling in the wind. I look at Bucky and grin. He smiles and shakes his head before jerking his chin at the back gate of the car. I grab my bag and the umbrella and trail after Bucky while he looks for the perfect place to set up.

After wandering around for nearly five minutes, Bucky finds a spot he likes and spreads out his blanket. I open the umbrella and drive the stake into the ground at one corner of the blanket. Bucky immediately stretches out across the blanket and I lay on my stomach in the sun beside him.

“Seriously?” he asks.

I shrug and spread my wings. “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to do this.”

He shakes his head. “You’re nuts.”

“Not all of us have metal arms, Buck. I'm not gonna burn myself if I sit in the sun for a bit.”

"You could still burn," he mutters.

I hum and fold my arms under my chin. "Worth it."

He shakes his head. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

“Someone has to be, and seeing as Clint’s not here, I’ve gotta pick up the slack.” Bucky laughs and I smile. “How’d you find this place, anyway?”

“Stark moved operations upstate for a while. Things got loud and crowded so I left and drove around for a bit. Found this open field and filed it away for later.”

“Have you brought Clint out here yet?”

“No, not yet. He doesn’t need quiet like we do.” He takes my hand in his when I reach out to him. “He’ll get his turn at some point. But today it’s just you ‘n me.”

“I’m kinda glad it’s just us today,” I confess. “We don’t get a lot of time alone together, what with you living at the tower.”

“I know. I get sucked into a lot of work with Steve.” He sighs. “I love him, he’s my best friend, but he’s such a fuckin’ work-a-holic. Acts like he’s still got shit to prove, even though he ‘n Tony are probably two of the most respected people on the planet.”

“Well, you know how it went the last time I tried to talk him into taking a vacation.”

“You jumped out a window.”

“He started having a panic attack thinking about the paperwork that could potentially pile up while he was gone.” I sigh. “I worry about him sometimes.

“Don’t worry about him too much. Sam and Rhodey have been helping more, recently. Rhodey is great with the leadership stuff, and Sam is the perfect backup when training starts getting a little out of hand.”

“That’s good.”

“Stark’s talking with that Pym guy to see if he’ll loan his guy to us for a while.”

“Scott, right?”

“Yeah, gave Sam a hard time a few years back, but…” he lowers his voice conspiratorially, “We’re not supposed to know about that.”

I laugh and he turns his head to grin at me. “And how do you know this?”

“Confidential, sweetheart.”

“Aw, Buck, come on!”

He laughs. “I was going back through old security tapes a while back and found the feed.”

“Putting all that training to good use, I see.”

“I gotta find my fun somewhere, (Y/N).”

“And you’re not one to go tugging on Clint’s pigtails, or anything.”

“Nah, he’d like it too much.”

I giggle. “Probably.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Anyway, Steve’s doing better than he was. Work might slow down enough that I could spend more time at the building with you guys instead of stuck at the tower. Well… more than just the evenings and the occasional weekend.”

“That’d be really nice.”

He nods and hums in agreement. His eyes flutter shut as he relaxes and I watch him doze for a bit before I pull my hand from his and wander out to the middle of the field. I close my eyes and tip my face to the sky, spreading my arms and wings, just to soak up the warmth. A gentle breeze kicks up around me and the faint rustling of grass slowly reaches my ears.

I sigh and begin to move my wings, lifting from the ground with each downbeat. When I can see nothing but the tops of the trees and the rolling hills of the countryside, I angle myself and fly in several wide, lazy circles over the field. Bucky and his umbrella are little more than a speck on the ground below when I circle back around the fifth time.

With one strong stroke, I break off from my course and glide out over the treetops. I climb higher and higher through the clouds until I can’t see the ground below me. I relish the strain of the muscles all up and down my body, groaning through months of disuse, but pleased to finally move after being stuck on the ground for so long. Up in the clouds, I swear I can breathe a little better than I could not even ten minutes ago. My head is clearer than it has been in nearly a year. I feel wonderful. Wonderful enough to pull my wings in tight against my back and free fall through every single inch of cloud cover before unfurling them and gliding out over the countryside.

I do a few loop-the-loops and have to pause after to shove my hair out of my face. Embarrassed, I glance around and laugh when I realize that absolutely no one could’ve seen me.

I take off again, dipping down below the clouds, only to find that I’m in a completely different place from where I started. I squint at the surrounding area, searching for any kind of defining landmark, and immediately backpedal when the Compound comes into view. I angle my wings into a sharp turn and take off in the direction I came from.

I figure I’m home free when I see the umbrella and I put on an extra burst of speed in an attempt to reach Bucky faster.

“Long time no see, (Y/N)!”

I jerk my head from side to side in an attempt to figure out where the voice came from. A second look over my right shoulder reveals Sam, slowly emerging from some kind of cloaking shield. Startled, I forget to move my wings and Immediately lose altitude.

“Fuck!” I yell out, flailing my arms as I plummet to the earth below.

I manage to roll and face the sky and I take several deep breaths to try and calm myself. When I open them again, Sam is diving, arms outstretched in an attempt to catch me. His yells reach my ears and I pull my wings tight against my body, arch my back and flip myself to face the ground once more. About fifty feet before I hit the ground, I snap my wings open and streak across the field. Sam pulls up just in time to avoid crashing into the dry grass below.

I bank sharply and land a short distance from Sam. Anger rises in my chest and I ball my hands into fists.

“What the fuck was that, Wilson?!” I shout. “Are you trying to fucking kill me? If I had something on me right now, I’d throw it and your head!”

"I am so sorry, (Y/N)," he says, hands raised in defense. "I didn't think you'd get spooked like that."

"You were cloaked. How the hell was I supposed to know you were there?"

He freezes. “I… I don’t know.”

I let out a frustrated yell and, with one strong stroke of my wings, I send him tumbling to the ground with a massive gust of air. I storm off in the direction of the car shouting back at Sam each time he tries to defend himself.

“Come on, (Y/N), it was an accident! I’m trying to apologize.”

Bucky lumbers over, raking his hands through his hair. “What’s going on?”

“Sam just about killed me,” I grind out.

“What?”

I fold my arms and shake my head. “I got distracted and didn’t realize how far I’d flown and wound up a little too close to the Compound. I got out of there as fast as I could, and I thought I made it. But Sam followed me all the way back and decided to do so cloaked-” I look back and Sam and glare. He has the decency to look guilty. “-And startled me bad enough that I stopped flying. I fell a few hundred feet before I could get my bearings and get my wings out again.”

Bucky looks past me at Sam, brows pulled together in a scowl. “What the hell, man?”

“Look, something appeared on the scanner, I had to go check it out. How was I supposed to know it was her? We didn’t even know she was back in town!”

“Yeah, but you figured out it was her, right? Why would you follow her back after that?”

“I don’t know. None of us have seen her in two years, man. I guess I wanted to make sure it was actually her.”

“You could’ve done that from a distance, Sam,” I counter. “You know I’m not a threat. Scaring the shit out of me put us both in danger.”

“You’re right.” Sam looks between Bucky and I and sighs. “I’ll get outta your hair.”

“I hope this doesn’t end up in a report, or something,” Bucky says.

Sam laughs. “Don’t worry, it won’t. My lips are sealed.”

I give him a tight lipped smile. “Thanks, Sam.”

“Don’t mention it, (Y/N).” He lifts off the ground and grins. “I’d hug you, but I’m pretty sure you’d just punch me.”

“Damn right I would,” I mutter. Bucky laughs and bumps his shoulder against mine.

“See you next week,” Bucky calls.

Sam nods and Bucky and I watch him disappear into the clouds. Bucky sighs and shakes his head and leads me back to the umbrella, muttering to himself about hating his job. I slip my arm around his waist and tell him he doesn’t hate his job, he just really enjoys his time off.

We spread out on the blanket and eat our lunch. We don’t talk much and I take off to fly again when I’m finished. I stay much closer this time, choosing to just do laps around the field instead of exploring like I had been earlier. Instead, I content myself with doing different aerial maneuvers and buzzing by the umbrella every once in a while.

I fly for another three hours before I get tired. I drop down in front of Bucky and he cracks one eye open to look up at me.

“Done?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“I know Sam said he wouldn’t tell anyone, but I can’t help being a little paranoid,” I say. I offer him a hand up and he takes it.

Bucky yanks the umbrella from the ground and shrugs. “I’d say that’s just smart thinking, on your part.”

I hum and begin packing things back into the picnic basket. I shake out and fold up the blanket and tuck it under my arm as we head back to the car.

“Did you at least get to relax a little?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah. I think I napped most of the time.”

I laugh. “Good.”

Once everything is packed in the car, Bucky helps me back into my seat. The interior is warm and my overworked muscles are crying out for me to rest. The hum and rhythm of the car isn’t helping my case much, and I grow drowsy the further we drive. Bucky takes my hand as I begin to doze off.

“Did you have any kind of fun today?” he asks.

“Mhm.” I nod and squeeze his hand. “Gonna be sore in the morning.”

"Sounds like you had a really good time, then."

"Yeah." I nod off for a moment, but suddenly remember something. "We gotta get pizza on the way home. I promised Clint."

"I know, sweetheart, don't worry. We'll grab a couple'a pies on the way back into town."

"Okay."

I sleep the entire way home.

Bucky gently shakes me awake when we arrive and I groggily crawl out of the car. I grab the bags from the bar and Bucky shakes his head when I reach for the umbrella and picnic basket. He gestures for me to follow him into the building and we trudge up the stairs to Clint’s apartment. Lucky is at the door as soon as we’re inside and Clint barely looks up from what he’s doing when Lucky barks and announces our arrival.

“What’d I say about coming home early?” Clint asks. “It’s not even dark out yet!”

I shake my head and drop the bags near the door.

“(Y/N) got a little too close to the Compound and Sam followed her back after she got picked up on the scanners,” Bucky explains.

“He decided to surprise me and I nearly fell to my death.” I grab plates from the cupboard. “So there’s that too.”

“Holy shit,” Clint says.

“Yeah… But we have pizza.”

Bucky holds up the two boxes and Clint grins and clears his arrows from the coffee table.

“I knew there was a reason I kept you guys around.”

I roll my eyes and hand him a plate. “There’s more benefits to us than pizza.”

Clint flips open a box as soon as they’re on the table and takes three slices. “Right now, the main benefit is pizza.” He leans over when I sit beside him and kisses my forehead. “You’re still pretty great without it, though.”

“Aw, thanks, Clint.”

We eat in relative silence, doing our best to ignore Lucky’s pleading looks, though Clint gives in and tosses him his own slice. Bucky admonishes Clint but Clint just laughs and jokes about throwing Lucky another slice.

When I finish, I lean forward on the table, stretching the muscles all up and down my back. Clint reaches over and presses his knuckles between my shoulderblades, gently massaging away the steadily growing soreness. Clint and Bucky talk between themselves and I watch as Lucky climbs into Bucky’s lap and curls up.

I smile and listen to their conversation and let their voices and Clint’s hand on my back lull me into soft relaxation.

---------

Part 6

Thank you guys so much for reading! If you liked this chapter, please reblog, comment, and/or shoot me an ask! Feedback would be greatly appreciated!

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This fic:

@avengerscompound, @nerdy-bookworm-1998, @shirukitsune

#winterhawkxreader #readerxwinterhawk #readerxbucky barnes #bucky barnesxreader #bucky barnes #clint barton #winterhawk #reader insert marvel fic

[wkemeup]

Recovery (Bonus Chapter)

summary: Follow his discharge from the hospital, Bucky struggles to accept the scars upon his body and the limitations he suffers from the pain in his shoulder. You show him that he’s still every bit the man you grew to love. 

pairing: detective!bucky x reader

word count: 6k

warnings: insecure!bucky, sickeningly sweet SMUT (18+) and i mean sickeningly sweet, flufffffff, 

author’s note: this is set between chapter 10 and the epilogue! shoutout to @musiclover1263​ who put in an ask for this as I happened to be writing it 😉

The Witness MasterList

You woke sharply to the sound of glass shattering. A gasp caught in your throat, you glanced over to the left side of the bed only to find it empty. Your hand reached out to the sheets; cool fabric gripped beneath your palm. You wondered briefly if you had imagined it, when suddenly the sound rang out again, another glass breaking, followed by a loud, aggravated groan muffled by the door.

Heart aching, you rushed out to the kitchen to find Bucky panting heavily, leaning over the counter as a flush covered his cheeks. His hands curled into fists and it was evident he was doing all he could to keep himself from punching the counter top.

Broken shards of two dining plates covered the tile by his bare feet.

The moment he caught sight of you standing on the edge of the kitchen, his shoulders slumped, his gaze darting to the ground to avoid your worried eyes. Slipping on a pair of shoes by the door and picking up a pair of Bucky’s as well, you reached for the broom kept nestled in the crook of the pantry. It had happened enough times in the month since Bucky was discharged from the hospital for you to be prepared when it happened again.

“Don’t move, baby. I’ve got it,” you urged as you treaded closer to him. You swept away the shards by his feet and set the slides down. He moved to step into them, losing his balance for a moment, and your hand jutted out to grab onto his side, helping to steady him. The tensing of his muscles under your touch didn’t slip your notice.

“Thanks sweetheart,” he sighed heavily as he stepped away from the rest of the glass. You let your hand fall away from him. “I was just… I just wanted to make breakfast for you but I…” he gripped at his left shoulder, massaging the tender muscles. He winced as he did so and you could only imagine the pain he felt if he was unable to hide it in his face. He swallowed once the ache passed. “I’m sorry, doll. Just wanted to do something nice for you and I... I can’t even do that…”

“It’s okay, Bucky,” you replied sincerely, curling up to your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. Bristles of unshaven hair scratched at your lips, though you lingered anyway. He sighed when you pulled away.

You smiled sweetly at him, trying to convey what you had been telling him since he came home; that you didn’t mind for even a moment taking care of him, that he wasn’t a burden to you, that you loved him beyond belief whether he was broken or torn or bruised or scarred.

He just had a hard time hearing it.

The day he was discharged from the hospital had been a decent one. He forced out a smile and amused Sam’s jokes and Steve’s under the breath laughs as they helped escort him down to the lobby where you were there waiting.

While his energy had been depleted since his second round of surgery, having had to go back in again after he tore through the stitches on his abdomen in the parking garage face off with Pierce, he did his best to push through it. He denied the pain had been worse this time around but you noticed he starting asking the nurses for additional morphine when he thought you were asleep.

The transition back to the apartment itself had gone alright, especially with you insisting on staying with him. It was the only reason Dr. Palmer had agreed to release him two weeks early, knowing you’d be by his side caring for him.

It had started with excuses to kiss one another, to hold hands, to curl up on the couch and watch those documentaries you loved that Bucky couldn’t stop talking through. It was domestic and natural and made you wonder what life really could be like with him in a world without a threat looming over your shoulder.

That was, until Bucky started being titrated off of the medications and the pain in his shoulder swelled and ached enough to keep him up through the night. Until he wore dark circles under his eyes and could barely lift his left arm to a ninety degree angle. Until the pain had become so bad, you couldn’t lean against him on the couch because the added pressure was too much, until he couldn’t tolerate the short walk to the convenience store, couldn’t even wash his hair on his own, couldn’t shave his growing facial hair not because of the lack of coordination but because he was just so damn exhausted all the time. Until he retreated so far into himself, into this shell of self-pity and depression and agony that you could hardly recognize the man you loved.

“Let me help you,” you had begged one night, watching the way he struggled to pull his shirt from over his head. He was panting, gritting his teeth at pain in his shoulder, in his abdomen, all over his body.

You had reached toward him to help lift the fabric, your fingers grazing over the edge of the scar on his stomach, and he flinched away like you had burned him.

“Don’t touch me!” he shouted, lunging away from you.

You stepped back, wide eyed. It was the first time he had ever yelled at you like that.

His face had softened quickly, a realization of his reaction spreading over his features. Sad, ocean eyes stared back at you before they everted to the floor. “I’m- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean... I’m so sorry, doll.”

You didn’t know how to comfort him if he wouldn’t let you touch him, even just to hold him.

Even now, as Bucky dragged his feet to the couch, away from the broken glass in the kitchen, you couldn’t help the painful ache burning deep in your chest. You bent down to swipe away the shards into the dust pan.

By the time you cleaned through the kitchen, vacuuming the floors just to be sure you’d gotten every piece after the last time when Bucky stepped into a stray shard just an hour after the incident, you heard the faint sound of your name coming from the living room.

You narrowed your eyes, focusing in on Bucky as he tried to turn from the couch to face you when a painful grimace covered his face. You set the broom back in the pantry and quickly made your way to him.

Taking a seat on the couch on his left, you could feel Bucky begin to tense up again. It was involuntary, you knew that, but that didn’t make it hurt less when he did. Bucky must have noticed.

“You, um, you know I love you, don’t you?” he finally asked, a lingering ache in his voice that tore at your chest.

Your hand brushed over the top of his thigh reflectively, seeking out his hand until you took it gently from his lap and wrapped it within your own. You brought his knuckles to your lips, kissing at the skin. He seemed to relax a bit, at least.

“Of course, I do, Bucky. What’s got you asking that?”

“I haven’t been fair to you,” he admitted, swallowing thickly. “You've done nothing but help me, even when I push you away, even when we argue when I push myself too hard in PT, and... I’m not myself, Y/n. I want to be better; I want to be the guy you know, the guy who sat across from you in that bar and flirted with you through an entire investigation, but this pain, it’s tearing me apart and every time I look at these disgusting scars all I can think about is how Rumlow was this close to you and I couldn’t do shit about it and... God, Y/n I feel like such a burden to you, I don’t know why you would even want m-”

“Baby, stop,” you urged, bringing your free hand up to his face, guiding him to meet your eye. “I will always want you, even if I have to remind you a thousand times. I’ll tell you every day if you want. I want you, Bucky. I love you. Every part of you. Scarred and not.”

Bucky did his best to hold your eyes, but with the tears brimming behind his lashes, he hung his head. He wanted to believe you; you knew he did. He tried so hard, but it would take time to ease him out of his instinctive need to carry every burden on his own, heavy misplaced guilt upon his shoulders.

Words didn’t seem to be enough.

You leaned in closer to him, watching carefully for a sign to pull away and when you were met with none, you pressed your lips to his cheekbone. He sighed, exhaling as if he could release an ounce of the weight on his shoulders with a single breath. You kissed his other cheek, then his nose, his forehead, his eyelids wet with tears, the corners of his mouth, until, finally, you pressed your lips to his own.

It was the first time you kissed him in weeks. Like a dessert scorched, desperate for reprieve, you kissed him with a feverish need to convey every word you had spoken, to convince him that he was so immensely loved, that he was brave and strong and everything you could ever want and need.

A gentle spark of surprise pulled at your stomach when he started to kiss you back, lips moving in tandem with your own, pulling and sucking and tasting one another because, God, it had been too long and you needed him badly.

Your fingers grazed over the bottom of his shirt and he pulled back sharply, breathless. The swell of his reddened lips made your stomach flutter.

“What is it?”

Bucky swallowed, unable to hold your eye.

“You don’t know what it looks like under here, Y/n,” he mumbled, tugging at his shirt. “It’s bad. You don’t... You don’t wanna see it.”

“If you think a few scars are going to scare me away-“

“It’s not just a few scars,” Bucky took in a deep breath and he gripped your hands into his own. The rough skin of the scar in his palm brushed over your knuckles. He met your eye again and the swarm of insecurity laced in bright blue eyes broke your heart. “It’s like I can’t escape them.” You raised an eyebrow, not quite following, and he continued, “Rumlow. Ward. They’re all over me and I don’t- I don’t want you to have to relive it like I do. You shouldn’t have to see it again. You shouldn’t have to be reminded how much I failed you that day.”

“Oh, Bucky...”

You brushed away the tears at his eyes, leaning forward to capture his lips in a chaste kiss before you pulled back again. You gently grabbed his right hand, bringing it into your lap and traced over the dark pink scar on the inside of his palm. He watched you through apprehensive eyes as you brought his hand to your lips and kissed the torn flesh, turning his hand over to kiss at the mirrored mark on the back.

“Do you have any idea what these scars mean to me?”

Bucky stared blankly at you.

“They remind me you survived, Bucky,” you confessed, gaze falling back to his palm, thumb brushing over the scars there. You smiled softly before meeting his eye again. “They remind me that you’re here and they're not. That you survived the worst of what humanity had to offer and you’re still here. With me. You’re still the man I love. You’re still that guy who drank my shitty bottom shelf bourbon and insisted on being my own personal bodyguard just so you could justify how often you were coming in to flirt with me.”

Even Bucky surprised himself when he started to chuckle, a smiling pulling at his lips that ached in his cheeks. “You caught onto that, huh?”

“Don’t have to be a detective to know you’re a shameless flirt, Barnes,” you teased.

Bucky shrugged his right shoulder, tossing you the cocky grin you had grown to love, “only for you, doll.”

A comfortable silence came over as you just sat there, smiling softly at one another. It didn’t quite reach his eyes, but he was trying and that was enough for you. He’d get back there one day, you had no doubt in your mind he could. You couldn’t expect him to jump right back into the playful, quick witted, charming man you once knew. It would take time. He’d been tortured and mutilated and nearly died because of it. He needed time to heal and you were more than willing to give it to him.

What he didn’t seem to notice was that caring for him was how you had come to heal yourself. You weren’t there just yet, but being able to lay next to him at night, to glance over and see him within just a few feet at any given moment, to cook for him and run his errands, to hold him when he’d let you, helped to ease away at the trauma clouding your heart.

Loving him was how you had come to put yourself back together. All of him. Every part of him.

“Will you let me see them?”

Bucky’s gaze bored into yours, a hesitancy behind his eye before he eventually nodded.

As carefully as you could manage, your fingers brushed under the fabric of his t-shirt by his waist and he shivered as you grazed his skin. Cautious to not put any burden on his left shoulder, you helped him slide his right arm through the sleeve first, pulling the fabric up to bunch at his neck before you guided the shirt over his head and skimmed the bundled shirt down his left arm.

His bare chest rose and fell in heavy breaths, increased in pace the longer you looked at him, and his hands had curled into fists to stop the shaking, though it trembled up into his forearms.

Incredibly aware that Bucky was studying you for a reaction he would certainly never find, you swallowed back the lump in your throat as your eyes fell on the marred scars upon his left shoulder.

Your lower lip quaked at the sight and you pulled it into your mouth and bit down hard. Dozens of angry pink and red scarring covered his arm, concentrating in a ring around his shoulder, almost like it was an outline for an amputation. You were reaching out to touch it before you realized what you were doing and your fingertips just barely grazed against the rough skin before Bucky gasped, pulling away.

Your eyes flickered up to him and he took a deep breath to steady himself, nodding for you to continue. You touched the scar upon his abdomen first and he shivered as you ran your fingers over the surgical lines. Then, you dragged your fingers to the long, jagged cut on his forearm, tracing up the tiny marks and nicks in his skin, until you finally landed upon the mass of scar tissue upon his shoulder.

Bucky let out a long exhale as your fingers brushed over the surface of the scars, releasing weeks of tension in a single breath. You flattened your palm, easing over the sore muscles and caressing his arm until he started to relax under your touch again.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered and Bucky’s eyes flashed in shock. You smiled at him before you pressed a careful kiss to his shoulder, peppering your lips against each and every scar you could find. “You’re a survivor, Bucky. Even with all this, you came home to me.”

Bucky nodded, almost as if he was trying to convince himself of your words. There were too my scars, not enough room on the couch, and you slowly found your footing, offering him your hand. He took it graciously and you led him to his bedroom. Cautious of the tender muscles in his stomach, you assisted him in laying back on the bed before you crawled up next to him.

Swinging a leg over him, you hovered your body above his, careful not to put any pressures on his surgical wounds. Sitting back on his thighs, you tucked your hair behind your ear, catching the way Bucky was watching you with a kind of bewildered adoration that reminded you so much of the man who first walked into your bar.

Your hands grazed over his bare chest and Bucky shivered under your touch. His eyes fluttered shut at feeling. With the damage on his shoulder and on the side of his stomach, it was easy to overlook the tiny nicks scattered upon his upper body, scratches and lines carved into his skin like canvas by arrogant and ruthless men.

Lips pressed down to the scar along his collarbone, the scar on the right side of his chest, the long line on his bicep, taking extra care at the surgical scar on his stomach, until you let yourself kiss him all over, in places clean of scars and soft to the touch. All the while, you whispered praises against his skin, soft murmurs of ‘so gorgeous’ and ‘my hero’ and ‘my survivor.’

“Y/n,” Bucky sighed, his hand having snaked into your hair, his nails scratching pleasantly on your scalp. You grinned against his navel, glancing up innocently at him. He let his head fall back to the pillow.  

“Let me take care of you, baby,” you whispered, your breath warm against his skin as you played with the waist band of his sweats.

He nodded, letting out a shaky breath, and you curled your fingers under the elastic and pulled the fabric down his thighs. Bucky held his breath as he tried to help you by lifting his pelvis up but the wince over his face was too difficult to hide.

You pressed your hands to his hip bones. “I’ve got you. Just be still, honey.”

“Don’t like being still with you,” he mumbled back, though there was a teasing tone in his voice that brought a smile to your face.

You kissed his hipbone and continued draping the fabric down. Pulling along his briefs with his sweats. His hardened length sprang up to sit against his stomach and Bucky gasped at the brush of cold air. You continued peppering kissing to his thighs until you discarded the fabric to the side of the room.

Laying naked before you, even worn and beaten and scarred, Bucky Barnes was still the most beautiful man you had ever seen. You told him so and a blush reddened his cheeks.

“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re stuck with me like this,” he joked, though the lingering sincerity in his words made your heart ache.

“I’m saying it because it’s true, Bucky. One of these days you’ll believe me.”

“Whatever you say, doll.”

You crawled back up to the bed, your hands tracing along his legs, nails scratching at his skin enough to leave shivers in their wake. Bucky watched from hooded eyes as he waited eagerly for you to touch the one place he was craving you most. It was with agonizing pace that your fingers brushed over his hipbones, tracing down to the insides of his thighs until, finally, you touched him right at the base of his length and he let out a gasp, his cock flinching at the sensation.

You grinned, moving your hand up to the tip to spread the leaking precum down his shaft and Bucky bit down on his lip, holding back a moan.

“We shouldn’t have waited so long,” you giggled, watching his reaction as he tried to suppress the slacking of his facial muscles as you dragged your hand along his shaft. “You’re too sensitive now.”

“N-No, baby, I’m good,” he replied breathily, hands grasping into the sheets.

“Yeah, I’m sure you are,” you teased and he shot you a warning look that quickly morphed into pleasure as you gripped him harder, stroking up and down his length, thumb brushing over the tip in each pump. “Think you can last?”

“What are you—oh! F-fuck,”

Your tongue swept up the thick vein on the underside of his length until you reached the tip and brought him into your mouth. His hands curled into your hair, gripping tightly at the base of your scalp to ground himself to something, and you wondered if he pulled the hair away from your eyes on purpose, just to see your mouth on him a little clearer.

With a hand pumping firmly at the base of his cock, you dipped your tongue along the slit of his tip and Bucky choked back a whimper. You glanced up at him, mouth suctioned around him as you bobbed your head up and down, and the look on Bucky’s face was enough to soak your core; entirely blissed out, lips parted just enough, seeking out a pleasure before it crashes. You pressed your thighs together in an attempt to alleviate the ache.

“Y/n, baby, f-fuck, wait,” Bucky panted and you could feel he was close. Balls clenching up as you massaged them, his cock pulsing as you hollowed your cheeks, and Bucky took in a sharp breath as you ran your thumb up the thick vein on the underside of his length.

His grip in your hair tightened, a godly sound left his lips, and he was spilling into your mouth. Cock throbbing as you continued to pump him through his released, swallowed him down as you licked over his tip, his breath catching. You released him with a pop of your lips, wiping the stray drool from your chin.

You sat back on his thighs, keen to watch him recover as his cock slumped back against his stomach, his chest panting with a flush of color in his cheeks. Bucky stared up at you from under hazy eyes and you licked your lips, sending him a wink. He shook his head, the widest grin you had seen in him in a long time upon his face.

“I ever tell you I love you?” he asked breathily.  

“Never hurts to hear it again, you know.”

“Well shit. I really fucking love you.”

You laughed, the kind that hurt in your stomach a bit. Sitting for a while, content to watch him as he caught his breath again, smile etched into cheeks, it took a few months before either of you spoke again. Then, Bucky’s eyes drifted over to you, hungrily running along your body, desperate to see the underneath.

“You gotta let me touch you, babe, please,” Bucky begged, reaching out towards you and you sent him a quizzical look. “My right hand’s a little fucked up but it still works.” He raised the hand where a knife had been plunged through the center, now covered in matching scars upon either side of his palm. “Please, Y/n. I’ll be ready again for you soon, I promise, but I gotta touch you.”

Eyes glanced back to his cock, already half-hard, and you grinned up at him, more than willing to indulge his request. You grabbed a hold of your shirt by your waist and tugged it over your hair, leaving your chest bare to him. He let out a pleasant exhale, just taking you in.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get tired of see you like this.”

“You’re a sap, Bucky Barnes.”

“Maybe,” he grinned, his right hand gripping at the waist band of your sleep shorts as you crawled up closer to him. “These, too. Please, doll?”

“I really like it when you beg,” you smirked as you shimmied the shorts down your thighs, pulling your panties off with them.

There was no room for insecurity in a bed with Bucky. The way his eyes raked over you, like he was attempting to memorize every last detail, sent a thrill of electricity through you. No one ever looked at you like Bucky did. It was hard to shy away from a stare that made you feel so loved.

“Where do you want me?” you asked innocently, eyes catching onto the thick mesh of scars on his abdomen.

“Right here.” Bucky pulled you flush against his right side, draping your left leg over his. Still laying on his back, you on your side, Bucky slipped his right hand between your legs. With a careful wince he dragged his left hand over to you to cup at your breasts.

“Don’t hurt yourself for my sake,” you teased, grabbing a pillow and tucking it under his left shoulder so he didn’t have to keep it propped up.

“Making it easier for me to touch my girl,” Bucky sighed. “You’re an angel.”

“It’s all selfishly motivated.”

“Sure, it is.”

Your left hand ran along his chest, tracing over scars and soft skin alike as Bucky caressed you, his thumb circling over the nipple of your left breast. Your fingers ran up to the side of his face, raking against his scalp soothingly as he touched you. His eyes flickered to your lips and you leaned into him, pressing your mouth to his.

His hand left your breast to run along your bare back as he sucked your lower lip between his own. You moaned out against him as his tongue swept along yours and plunged into your mouth. Bucky’s right hand still cupped at your core, though it sat unmoving, like he was teasing you, like he was waiting for you to do something about it.

As he bit down ever so gently on your lip, you grinded down against his hand, sandwiching it to his thigh. He chuckled against you.

“You gonna do something about this?” you smirked, pulling back to find him grinning uncontrollably.

“Be careful what you ask for, doll,” he purred, kissing at your neck when your lips were too far away for him to reach. “I ain’t got my full strength but I’ll still give it to you good, baby. I promise.” He sucked on the sweet spot by your collarbone and you stretched your neck for him, sighing at the sensation. “Just wait until I’m healed. You won’t know what hit you.”

“All talk, Barnes,” you baited, smiling blissfully as he moved his lips up your neck to your earlobe.

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Then his fingers moved at your core and two fingers dipped between your folds and ran a slow line up your slit. You gasped against him, hand curling into what you could grasp of his short hair. You could feel Bucky’s lips smirk against your jawline. “That’s what I thought.”

“Bucky,” you gaped, hiking your left leg further up his body, your knee brushing against his cock, hardened against his stomach.

His fingers trailed up along your dripping core, coating in your wetness as he spread it up to your clit to run circles enough to send a jolt through you. Then, he dipped a finger into you and you bit down on your lip, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. He curled it at the knuckle and when that wasn’t enough, he slipped in a second, using his thumb to put pressure on the tiny bundle of nerves.

“Oh, God, Bucky…” you moaned, muffled by the pillow. When a third finger entered you, you gripped him so tightly you were afraid you might hurt him. He pumped his fingers a few times and you could feel the slick dripping down your thighs.

“You good, sweetheart?”

“Need you,” you muttered, pulling your face from his neck hazily. You met his eye to find him sighing in relief. You glanced down at his cock, dripping in precum, the angry vein pulsing painfully up his length, then to the mess of scars on his shoulder and torso. “Think you can handle it?”

Bucky laughed. “Who cares?”

“Bucky!”

“I’m okay, doll. Maybe a little sore but it’ll go down. You won’t break me. This is worth a little pain, okay?” Bucky replied sincerely, his left hand cupping the side of your face and brushing a stand of hair behind your ear. “Now, please. For the love of God. Ride me.”

You giggled, pushing yourself up and straddling his waist. Bucky tried to prop himself up on his elbows just to get a little closer to you, but the grimace on his face and the grit of his teeth was enough to send him collapsing against the pillows. You brushed your hand over his chest, reaching up to cup the side of his face.

“Let me do the work, honey. You wanted me to ride you,” you purred, grabbing a hold of his cock and slowly lining him up with your entrance, “let me ride you.”

Then, you sank down onto him, his hard length stretching you with a pleasant ache until you took all of him in. You sighed, the feeling of him inside you one that you didn’t know if you’d ever get used to. Bucky’s hands caressed your thighs, waiting patiently despite the flush in his cheeks, until you eventually rocked your hips forward.

The feeling of him was unlike anything else. There were no words to describe him.

“Oh fuck, doll,” Bucky groaned as his gripped at your hips, urging you to move against him again.

Heaven. Heaven is what he felt like.  

Slow, steady rolls and careful movements, and making love in every sense of the term, as you let your hand travel down your body to where you were conjoined to rub at your clit. You gasped, circling the nub gently just to prolong the feeling before it became messy and raw and full of heat.

“You’re the fucking love of my life,” Bucky whispered breathily, eyes closed, lips parted, and you nearly stopped your movements if it wasn’t for his hands guiding you as you rocked against him. You stared at him, stilling your fingers over your clit, just watching him in his pleasure.

Love of my life.

He just might be the love of yours, too.

You restarted the pressure on your clit again, this time in faster movements, picking up pace as you rocked your hips, and Bucky’s eyes darted open. He bit on his lower lip, chewing on it to keep himself from coming too fast, because dammit he felt like he was about to burst. The way in which he watched you, like you hung every star in the sky, like you were an angel from heaven, like you were nothing but perfect in his eyes, only urged you on.

He was unequivocally the love of your life.

“Ah, fuck, Bucky, I’m gonna come,” you gritted out and Bucky’s fingers dug into your hips.  

“I’m right there, baby,” Bucky panted, doing his best to suppress the need to thrust up into you and save his muscles a world of pain. “Come for me.”

A wave of pleasure washed over you, walls clenching around him, as your body fell forward, arming propping you up to hover just over Bucky’s chest to avoid pressure on his scars. Chasing your post-haze and urging Bucky to find his own release, you kept your hips rocking, lips sucking at his neck.

Panting and sweating and hands gripping at your hips, Bucky came with the sweetest sounding moan you’d ever heard. Cock throbbing inside of you as he spilled all he could offer, you rocked him through the lingering effects of his bliss, kissing at his jawline, his cheekbones, his lips, through all of it.

Breathless, you finally pulled yourself off of him, an emptiness falling behind as he left you. Before he could protest, you jumped up from the bed to clean yourself with a warm cloth, bringing one back to the bed to remove the sticky wetness from his softened cock. He flinched slightly at the touch, too sensitive, and you kissed his forehead, chuckling under your breath.

“That’s my job, just so you know for when I have full coordination again,” Bucky reminded you as you crawled back into the bed next to him.

“Yeah, whatever you say,” you teased, curling up beside him as he maneuvered his right arm for you to lay your head on his chest. Careful of the scar on his stomach, you draped your arm over his waist.

While it was still morning, you were nearly on the verge of sleep again when Bucky’s cleared his throat.

“Y/n?”

You pulled yourself up to look at him, a nervous glance in his eye. “Yeah, Buck?”

“Will you reach into the drawer for me? There’s a blue box in there.”

You narrowed your eyes, curious, though you did as he asked. You stretched over him and pulled out the drawer. Sure enough, sitting on the top was a small blue box. Pulling it out, you handed it to him. Bucky took a deep breath, and tried to push himself to sit up. Noticing what he was doing, you sat up yourself and grabbed a hold of his forearm to help pull him up, his stomach muscles still weak from the surgery.

“I didn’t know a good time to give this to you since I’ve been, well, wallowing in self-pity for a while,” Bucky said, a slight nervous chuckle in his voice. “I had Steve go pick this up the day I left the hospital.”

“Bucky what are you-“

“Please, open it.” He handed you the box, a soft smile upon his swollen lips.

You took the box from his hand, examining it for a moment before you opened it. You sucked in a breath, your heart fluttering, when you saw the gold pendent at the center. Yours. Though it was a little different. You had broken it in half when you gave it to Steve, hadn't you?

“Bucky…”

“I had to get a new badge. Did I ever tell you that?” Bucky asked, scratching at the back of his head. “My old one got a bullet in it, nicked it right up, and well, your necklace needed something to put it back together, so I asked the jeweler if he could, um, melt down part of my badge to complete the mold again. So, it’s… it’s still the pieces of your necklace, but it has parts of me, too.”

Tears welled in your eyes as your fingers brushed over the pendent. Bucky watched your carefully, his heart racing wildly as he waited for your reaction. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Is it okay?”

You choked back tears, gently pulling the necklace from the box and letting it slip into your fingers. “Okay? Bucky, it’s beautiful.”

“I know it doesn’t look quite the same and my badge is a different shade of gold but-“

You interrupted him with a kiss pressed to his lips. “It’s perfect.”

“Yeah?” Bucky exhaled in relief, the sweetest smile upon his face as he slumped back against the pillows, just admiring you.

You nodded, smile brimming on your face as you pulled your hair to the side and clasped the chain around your neck. You could feel his hand running lovingly along your thigh as he watched you. The pendent fell down to the bare of your chest, gold shining against your skin, a reminder of your past and your future.

Your protector.

--

tags 👌🏼 @sweetheartbarnes​ / @musiclover1263​ / @pies-wands-and-more​ / @buckygrantbarnes​ / @mywinterwolf / @breatheeagainnnn / @jewelofwinter / @lumar014 / @alohafromhell1 / @bucksandroses / @teardropcup / @beautiful-aravis / @me-chi / @somewereinthegalaxi / @marvelfansworld / @whyamidoingthistomyselfhelp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @yourwonderbelle / @fairislesheets / @brokeinflight / @verygraphicink / @lollipopdomination / @emotionallysalty / @forsaken-letters / @captain-hammer-of-asgard / @ashlieadelia / @kasimagines / @ladymelissastark/ @panic-naran / @pinkisokay / @jsmith509 / @hennessy0274-blog / @littlemsrantsalot / @bucky-rrogers / @the-wayward-robot / @the-omni-princess

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