#captain america x fem!reader

[marvelcvte]

forbidden touch - steve rogers

*The above image is not intended to force the reader to identify with any of the people in it. Its purpose is to present the concept of the story.*

pairing: steve rogers x f!reader theme: smut warnings: heavy smut (18+, minors dni), handjob (f receiving), oral job (f receiving), edging, praise kink word count: 1,2k summary: you have a crush on steve and he hears you. a/n: hope you like it!! feedback is always appreciated (:

»»————-　　————-««

The feeling of the much needed rest finally assails you as you get comfortable in your bed. The silk sheet embrace you just as perfectly as it always does.

Working out with Steve Rogers is something that you never thought of doing before, but as soon as you joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and Nick Fury, that was the first thing they made you do. And apparently they wouldn't let you on a mission without having completed all the sessions.

You weren't complaining at first, since you had a crush on Captain America since the attack of New York. You didn't know him personally yet and you dreamed about him everyday. But after many, many work out sessions you started to hate him.

Not an enemy-like hate, I mean, you don't want him dead. It's more like you-make-me-horny hate. He is so bossy and demanding, and the fact that he turns you on makes you sick.

Of course, seeing him shirtless for four hours straight wasn't helping either. The hand-to-hand combats are the worst. Seeing him so close to you and smelling those nose-filling pheromones and testosterone is why you ended each session horny.

Today is no different. As your head meets the pillow, the only thing you can think about is him. You still imagine those sweaty pecs bouncing every time he jumped, or his arm flexing every time he took a break and drank from his water bottle.

At those thoughts, you find yourself sliding your hand towards your throbbing core. You are not wearing much, just a pair of panties and a sport bra, and this facilitates your eager hands.

Your fingers run on the fabric of your underwear and your legs begin to shake just at the clothed touch. Not so much time passes, that your hand is in your bare, wet folds.

The index finger finds the little button that gives access to your orgasms and it starts to give it round caresses. All your blood rushes between your legs as you speed up the movement. Your lips are parted, but you don't dare make a sound, at the risk of being heard by someone.

As soon as you pick a good rhythm, muffled words exit your mouth. You can't control your vocal cords anymore, since less and less silent moans flood the room.

For this reason, you can't hear the squeaking of the door and the panting of the person resting on the doorjamb. Steve had heard you and he quietly opened the door to see. He is prying on you even though he knew you wouldn't be happy about it.

But something makes him loose his mind and fully enter the room. As soon as he hears you repeat his rank more and more, he decides to get close to you and touch your thigh, without taking his eyes off what you're doing.

"Do you think of me when you touch yourself?" you hear him say as soon as you open your eyes, frightened. The first thing you do is sitting down and covering your shame with the blanket.

"Steve... I mean, Mr. Rogers, what are you doing here? You scared me," you stutter. Your blood rush from your core to your cheeks.

"I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention," he replies, staring directly at your face. "Please, continue what you were doing," he adds at the end.

"What?" the word leaves your mouth too quickly.

"You heard me. Do it, or I'll do it."

His demanding voice enters your ears and then that part of your brain that makes you obey, too clouded by excitement and shame. Your hand returns between your legs and starts moving as fast as before.

You muffle your moans directly down your throat and you close your eyes so as not to look at the Captain. But this is not what he wanted and that's why he wraps his hand around your neck, making your eyes meet his.

Your lips are parted again, this time letting your cries being heard. "That's more like it," he says.

"Now, tell me, do you think of me when you touch yourself?" he asks again. You whine in response, but he growls at you. "Use your words."

And that's what you do. You moan a breathless "yes". The tremor of your thighs increases more and more every time your hand collides with your clit. Tears of excitement form in your eyes and they are fighting to not roll down your cheeks.

"Let me see," Steve says in a very rough voice that should be illegal. With a big gesture, he takes off your blanket, admiring all your lust.

Without further ado, he sits in front of you and his hand takes the place of yours. The wetness of your flesh slips between his fingers as he opens your folds. In a jiffy, his head is between your thighs, testing your flavor.

Your head, instead, is brought back again on your pillow. The room is spinning as the man under you is licking the fuck out of you. His tongue is quick and experienced, as if he had already done what he is doing a thousand times more.

He englobes your clit between his lips, all while his arm is resting on your stomach, holding you still. Your hand travels down your body, into his hair. At this touch, his eyes light up and he stops the pleasure.

You stare down at him with a questioning look. But as soon as he moves away, his fingers enters you without warning. They curl up inside of you, touching every right spot.

"That's what were you dreaming about, uh? You waited for this for so long, didn't you?" he asks you, staring at you, while you can't even utter a word. His movement are fast and your wetness is his natural lube. They come in and out with ease.

Your moans fill the room, and for Steve they're music to his ears. "What's my name, princess?" he asks you.

His fingers speed up, spurring you to answer. His other hand returns on you neck, making your faces too much close. You can feel his breath fanning your open mouth.

"Steve," you finally answer.

"Again," he says.

You repeat it again and again and with every word Steve's fingers increase in speed. From two fingers, to three, until there are four.

Your little hole is stretching around his hand and he can feel your walls clenching as you're near your high.

"I'm close," you warn him, hugging his arm still resting on your neck. In hearing these words, the Captain stops. You give him a nasty look, but he smiles and sits not so far from you.

At the lack of contact your body trembles. "Go ahead and finish what you started," the same commanding voice that you hear in those training session is now used to make you come.

He watches you as your hand is back again on your clit. "Yes, just like that, good job."

It looks like you're back in the gym, but you're sweating for something else. It takes little for you to pour yourself on the bed. You feel relieved and invigorated after an exhausting evening that never seemed to end.

As you open your eyes, coming down from your high, you find Steve still watching you.

"You did great. Next time, keep your voice down if you don't want me to hear you. Or don't."

[fandoms-writings]

Pursuit

Pairing: Nomad!Steve x Agent!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Requested by anon - "Don't go where I can't follow, I thought I lost you"/"Honey, you're exhausted, go back to sleep."

Warnings: it's angsty, reader curses, but that's about it.

A/N: I promise I'm working on getting through these requests, life is just insane rn and i've been trying to get into some digital art, so i'm a little busy rn.

Masterpost

The second Steve stepped through the door of their latest safehouse, he knew something was off. The hair on the back of his neck stood at attention and he honed in all of his senses to focus on his surroundings. The others were still on their way, they'd all taken different routes here to at least try not to bring attention here, though it seemed like that didn't matter in the end. 

If the house was compromised, they'd need to make a swift exit, hopefully without killing anyone. But that also meant they had one last place they could safely hide from SHIELD. 

He steeled himself before taking cautious steps through the front room, back to the kitchen where he would check the dining room before heading up the stairs to clear the bedrooms. But there was something that caught his attention in the dining room. 

It looked like someone was seated there at the table in the dark. He clenched his fist, bracing himself for whatever was coming, and turned the light on. 

He thought he'd been found, that sitting at the table was an agent, waiting to bring him in. Or maybe even a Hydra agent, ready to kill him. For a second, he thought Nat could've been there - she did like to scare the crap out of him every now and then. 

But when that light turned on, it was worse than any of those outcomes. It was a sight that had his heart aching in his chest. 

You were seated at the table, staring at him with a gaze of steel, your hands folded over a gun on the table. 

He took a breath to steady himself from the shock of seeing you before taking a tentative step into the room. He didn't think he'd ever see you again if he was being honest with himself, not after he left SHIELD. 

"You were harder to track down than I thought you'd be," Your voice filled the room and he barely kept himself from flinching. You never spoke to him like this, cold and emotionless, he'd heard it in interrogations that you lead, but it was never aimed at him. "I suppose Nat's to thank for that." 

"What are you doing here?" He asked, trying to take a subtle glance around the room to see if you'd bought anyone with you. 

"It's just us, you can stop being paranoid." 

He glanced back to you, only letting his shoulders drop slightly before he gripped the back of the chair in front of him. "Why are you here?" 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "Not even a 'hey baby, i missed you' huh?" You leaned back in your chair, folding your arms across your chest, "No, 'sorry I left you behind when we went on the run'?" 

He sighed, hanging his head. "I didn't want to leave you there." He muttered. 

"Bull shit," You snapped, "You know I would've dropped everything for you." 

He nodded at his feet, "I know. I'm sorry." 

"Sorry isn't gonna cut it this time, Steve." 

He lifted his head to look at you when your voice broke over his name, the tension in his shoulders from the day falling, replaced by a new stress. The way you were looking at him was devastating. Your jaw was clenched as you fought the wobble in your lips. The bags under your eyes were more prominent than he'd ever seen before, and your chest was heaving in uneven breaths as you kept yourself together. 

"I know," He started, "I know an apology isn't enough. But I am sorry." Slowly, he rounded the table until he stood three from you, his eyes glancing down to your shaking hands as you gripped your arms. "I wanted to come get you, but I didn't know if your department had been compromised or not. I also didn't want to force you to become federally wanted by the government, and there definitely wasn't enough time to talk about it." 

You were silent, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he pulled out the chair next to you, taking a seat and leaning his elbows on his knees. 

"The plan was to contact you when things calmed down," He explained, "It's just taken a lot longer than I thought it would." 

You let out a wet scoff, your voice tight as you said, "You're Captain America, Steven, on the run. What did you think? That they'd forget about you after a few days?" 

The attitude, the sass you gave him warmed his heart a bit - it meant you weren't so mad at him that it wasn't fixable, so he let out a small breath. 

"I don't know," He muttered, "With everything going on, I guess I didn't really think about it." 

"No shit." Your voice broke and he watched the first tear break through your lashes. He reached up, brushing it away with his knuckles before cupping your face, his heart aching in his chest like it was trying to reach for yours. They'd been off the grid for weeks now - weeks that he hadn't been able to hold you, to kiss you, to just be with you. 

"I'm so sorry, baby," He whispered, leaning so far forward that he slid out of his chair, gently landing on his knees in front of you. 

"Did you really think I wouldn't come for you?" You asked and he shook head. 

"I wasn't sure," he muttered, "I didn't know how tight of a leash they'd have on you because of who you are to me." His brows pulled together in thought and his paranoia began to creep back up the back of his neck. "How did you get out?" 

You smirked down at him, not bothering to wipe at the tears he was catching with his knuckles, "Don't you remember who trained me?" 

He huffed a laugh at that. Nat had trained you when you first joined SHIELD - before he was even brought out of the ice. And you two were like peas in a pod. But when you started dating Steve, the higher ups moved you to a different department, to avoid internal conflict and possible distraction in the field. 

He had no doubt that you didn't leave a trail here - hell, you could've even faked your death to get out from under their thumb. But as he stared up at you, at those tears still falling and the exhaustion swimming in your eyes, he decided that was a talk for tomorrow. Maybe even the day after. 

You reached up to grip his wrists tight, your smirk falling, "Don't you ever go where I can't follow," your voice cracked as you struggled to keep it even. Immediately he understood you were talking about how they vanished into Wakanda to drop off Bucky. Even if you had been tailing them, which you probably were by then, you wouldn't have gotten in without T'Challa's approval. "I thought I lost you." 

All the breath was forced from his lungs as his chest caved. He pulled your head into the crook of his neck, keeping one hand to the back of your head and the other wrapping around to grip at the back of your kevlar suit. Your arms wound around him, holding him so tight, like you were scared he'd vanish again. 

"I won't," He promised the words into the kevlar covering your neck, "I promise." 

He held you like that until his knees went numb, pins and needles starting in his calves and feet, and he pulled away from you, standing again. He pulled you from your chair, taking you upstairs to one of the bedrooms with an adjoining bathroom. 

He showered with you, your eyes barely able to stay open as he peeled off your kevlar for you and washed the dirt and oils and who knew what else from your hair before soaping up the rest of you. Once he had the both of you clean and dry, he tucked you into the bed, curling around behind you, clinging to you. 

He'd been trying so hard not to think about how much he missed you these past few weeks. Focusing so much on keeping those who ran with him hidden and alive that having you here like this, asleep in his hold again, he realized just how much his heart ached for you. How much his soul itself had been crying out for you. 

And now you were here, in his arms as he finally let the fear of never seeing you again go. The fear that you'd been corrupted by the system. That you'd been compromised, or worse. 

He let it all go, savoring the time he had with you before there was a small knock on the door. The pattern of knocks told him it was Nat. 

Trying not to wake you as he got up was a fruitless effort as you turned to face his retreating form and you sat up. 

"Steve?" He turned back to you, "Where are you going?"

Your voice was so small, so tired but so nervous as you asked, the question hitting him in the chest. He walked back to you, cupping your cheeks and placing a kiss on the top of your head. 

"I'm just going to talk to Nat, I'll be right back," He gave you a small smile, "I promise." 

"I want to see her," You tried to get free of his hold to get out of bed but he stopped you. 

"You're exhausted honey," He said, softly pushing you to lie back down, "Go back to sleep. She'll be here in the morning, I'll make sure of it." 

"Okay," You sighed, submitting to the fatigue in your body as you easily slipped back to sleep. He pulled the blankets over you, tucking you back in before heading for the door again. 

His hand gripped the handle, and he turned back to look at you peacefully sleeping, smiling to himself before preparing to hear what the others had been through on their way here. 

Being on the run was going to be rough, and people would be pushed to their limits, but you were with him. And that's all he cared about now.

 

As always, thank you for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are all appreciated!

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[universitypenguin]

Word Count: 4,977

Warnings: Smut. 18+ readers only. Explicit sexual content. Rough sex. Steve suffers emotional distress. Kidnapping and hostage situation.

Master List

R is for Risk

The atmosphere vibrated with stress. Like the tolling of bells in a provincial town, tension echoed off the walls. Your mind shied away from the metaphor as soon as you thought of it. John Donne’s poem, asking for whom the bell tolled, wasn’t an analogy you wanted to connect with at the moment. It was too close to acknowledging the truth of your predicament and that wasn’t a topic you could mentally cope with right now.

After all, how did a person handle dancing on the edge of death, other than by ignoring it?

Taskmaster turned and tilted his masked head to the side, looking like a very ugly German Shepherd puppy.

“Time’s running out, girl. Better start praying your boyfriend turns up.”

You tilted your chin and met his threat with defiance. Inside, your stomach was churning. But it would be a disaster if Taskmaster knew his effect on you.

He loved seeing terror, but loved knowing that he was causing it even more. You’d clocked the glee in his voice when he’d broken your finger on video for Steve to witness. The wound still ached but had mostly gone numb as the hours counted down.

“How am I going to kill you, my pretty…? It would be more dramatic to leave your face intact, I think. Or perhaps not. I should deny him the sight of such a lovely visage ever again, so he can only remember you the way you were on our last few calls.”

Taskmaster laughed.

You rolled your eyes. “Visage? Have you been reading Jane Austen recently? No. Let me guess. Charlotte Brontë.”

His smirk didn’t budge.

“I find it fascinating that no matter how I threaten you, it doesn’t disturb you as much as when I remind you how terribly this will scar Steve. You’re really in love, aren’t you? I always thought it was his looks. Say, does he actually have an eight pack under those pressed shirts and khakis?”

You sneered. “Are you coming for my boyfriend? He’s taken.”

“Got him all leashed up, huh?”

“There’s no leash. He loves me. I love him - that’s all there is to it.”

Taskmaster’s face moved in a way that suggested he was wrinkling his nose under his mask.

“Have you ever been in love?”

He stiffened, shoulders pulling tight as his arms drew back, bringing his elbows in toward his torso.

Your eyes narrowed.

“A psychopath who’s been in love. Interesting.”

“Shut it, girl.”

Taskmaster swung away and moved to check the cellphone he’d placed on the counter.

A timer had been set right after the first ransom call. The digital clock was ticking down the minutes to your demise. If the Avengers didn’t hand over the vibranium ore stored in Tony’s safe, Taskmaster would kill you. Or to be more precise, his words had been, splatter your brains all over the wall.

“Three minutes left. If he loved you, he wouldn’t cut it so close.”

“If you were in his shoes, and the woman you loved was in mine, would you make this deal? You’re working for Klaus. In his hands that vibranium would put millions of people in danger.”

Taskmaster shrugged. “His money’s green.”

“So is Tony’s. Ask him to pay you more. Ask him for double whatever Klaus is paying you. You’re not stupid. It’s obvious which well runs deeper.”

For a moment, he pinned you with a cold glare that had your heart pulsing with fear. Had you pushed too hard?

Laughter exploded, shaking the man’s frame. He clutched his stomach and threw his head back, reveling as if you’d told the greatest joke ever written.

“You’re good. Really good. I’m impressed, Y/N. They warned me you were clever; but I didn’t think you’d get to me.”

Hope blossomed.

“I’m worth more alive than I am dead, and we both know it.”

The timer screeched its finale. A chorus of blaring horns and raging vibrations broke the tense moment.

Taskmaster clicked his tongue.

“Well, well. Time’s up. The Avengers have run out of chances to save you.”

You considered him, feeling a strange sense of calm that defied logic. In the back of your mind a trampled down instinct screamed at you to panic, but it was too distant to matter.

“I suppose you’re going to kill me and not double your pay. I’d thought you were intelligent. But it’s no matter, since I’ll be dead in… five minutes?”

Taskmaster grinned.

“Your calculations missed a variable. Loyalty. I have a reputation to protect and Klaus is a well connected man. If I double cross him, I’m as good as dead. So yeah. No deal. But I’m not going to enjoy this next part as much as I planned to. You made a good sparring partner, Y/N.”

The sound of your name on his lips sent a chill through your heart.

Fuck. He’s going to do it.

You stiffened as he stepped around the kitchen island, moving towards the living room, where you were cuffed to an armchair. The raw panic you’d thought would overwhelm you didn’t come. Its absence was the most remarkable thing about the whole situation. You were gripped by a cold fear that froze you, but heightened your awareness of everything else.

Taskmaster had taken two steps, his gun raised and movements purposeful, when the world exploded. There was an ear shattering sound, as if a firework had gone off beside you. Glass flew and stung as it sliced your legs. You covered your face and dove for safety beside the barricade of the sofa. Surprisingly, the cuff came loose as the chair tipped over and you jerked your hand free.

Gunshots snapped through the air. You crawled towards the door, away from the flying glass. Hands grabbed your waist, pulling you backwards.

You screamed.

Training with Steve paid off in that moment, when even despite comple terror, your elbow flew back and cracked against your assailant’s jaw. He was momentarily stunned and then seized your waist even harder, his fingers digging until they pinched. You yelped and kicked at him, then remembered to twist your hips for better leverage. Now on your side, you trapped one of his legs between yours and flipped on top of him.

“Y/N, stop! Stop! Hey!”

He blocked your fist with his forearm and pulled off the black ski mask. You gasped at the sight of Steve’s face. He hauled you into his arms and drew you tight against his chest as you tucked your face into his neck.

“It’s okay. You’re safe. You’re safe now.”

With a shudder, you felt your bravado melt away, and went limp in his grasp.

From behind the couch there was a chuckle. Tony snickered.

“Quite the romantic reunion.”

“Romantic? She nearly knocked out his teeth,” Thor said.

Tony sighed. “Sarcasm isn’t a language you’re ever going to master, is it?”

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

There was a mandatory post hostage crisis interview with SHIELD. Steve protested the exercise, pulling out his “I am the Captain” voice on Maria Hill. You intervened by cutting in and agreeing to the interrogation. While they called it an ‘interview’ everyone knew what it really was. Steve was upset, and took you aside to ask if you were certain you felt up to the task.

Of course, you didn’t, but it was a matter of pride.

You wouldn’t use Steve’s status to get special favors. There was a stubborn desire to prove that, even if Captain America was your boyfriend, you could stand on your own.

You promised you were alright, kissed his cheek, and went with Agent Hill.

After the interview she insisted that medical checked you out. You were exhausted. All you wanted to do was go home but she insisted. Until you went with the nurse, you didn’t realize why.

Steve was waiting outside the exam room when you were done. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed and a deep scowl on his face. When he saw you, he straightened. You took what felt like your first full breath in hours when his arm curled around your waist. His jaw was bristled with stubble when he pressed his lips to your forehead. The big hands cupping your face were trembling as he clasped your cheeks.

“She’s all yours, Captain,” Agent Hill said.

Steve didn’t seem to hear. His gaze was fastened on the bruised skin of your neck. The marks had begun to show up during your conversation with Maria. By the time you’d gotten to medical for the check up, they’d sharpened into a clear shape. You wore Taskmaster’s hand print around your neck and would be wearing his marks for weeks.

Rage bubbled in Steve’s crystal eyes. You held still as he brushed the back of his fingers over the painful areas, and gently traced the marks that showed the outline of your attacker’s fingerprints.

He was silent. It coated the air with tension. You waited, but rather than speak, Steve dropped his head and breathed deeply. When he lifted his gaze again the violence had been replaced with his usual calm, steady expression.

The unnatural compartmentalization was unsettling. Steve shared his emotions freely with you. Your relationship had begun as a slow burn, but when Steve chose to be in a relationship, he held nothing in reserve. After more than two years together, you’d seen him fall apart, scream, cry, and laugh himself silly. This was not your Steve. The way he’d shut down his emotions in a single moment… it just wasn’t him.

He led you to the elevator bay and pressed the down button. You wrapped your arms around yourself for comfort. From the side of your eye, you watched Steve. He was distant, and not only in terms of the physical space he’d place between you. The composed mask was a hideous disguise on your handsome boyfriend. Emotions you’d had locked down tight were suddenly loosening. You looked up at the dial and willed the descending car to move faster. When you had the inevitable breakdown, you wanted it to be inside the walls of Steve’s apartment. Your hands began to tremble. You shoved them into your cardigan pockets to hide the reaction.

By the time you stepped into the lift, you were trembling from head to toe. Next to you, Steve was lost in abstraction. He wasn’t really there. Knowing this, being able to read him so easily, made his mental distance harder to tolerate. You wavered between asking him for a hug and crawling into the corner to hide. The elevator doors closed and you almost spoke up, needing the comfort of his arms, but Steve retreated to the corner of the car. He leaned, his left hand on the back railing and his right on the side rail. He was locked down.

He’d want to break down behind closed doors, too.

For all his emotional vulnerability, which you greatly admired, Steve liked to keep his rawest emotions private. You mimicked his posture in the other corner. The lift whirled. Your heart started to palpitate.

The lights flickered; that was the only warning. One moment you were in a beam of fluorescence, the next, everything went black.

With a lurch, the elevator stopped.

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

“Damn it,” Steve muttered. He stepped forward and punched the button on the call box. “Hey, we’re stuck. The electricity went out.”

A buzz, then the disembodied voice of Happy Hogan came through the speaker.

“We’re aware. Sorry, Cap. The building took some damage when Taskmaster blew through the lobby. One of our circuits overloaded. It shouldn’t be too long. Tony is on it.”

“Understood. Thank you.”

Steve turned to look at you and jolted when you weren’t there. For a moment he was terrified. Then his gaze dropped and he saw you crumpled on the floor with your head between your knees. He wasn’t sure what to do. There were no tears. Instead, you just sat with your hands clasped behind your neck and your elbows tucked around your head. Silent. He blinked in the low light from the single safety panel that was still lit and saw you were shaking.

He eased down and very cautiously, rested in a squatting position, his hands dangling between his splayed thighs.

“Doll? You okay?”

You didn’t answer and he kicked himself mentally, regretting the stupid question.

“I’m just gonna slide over and sit next to you, alright?”

He sat down and did as he’d said. When he was next to you, Steve was startled as you slumped over from your defensive posture, right into his lap. Your shoulders and back were still curved, but you settled into a modified fetal position, with your hips and legs still on the floor, the rest of your body tucked into his lap.

Steve wrapped his arms around you. His hands were still encased in the fingerless gloves of his sleuth suit. Through the exposed fingertips he could feel how cold your skin was.

“Shit. You’re in shock.”

“No.”

You murmured the single syllable answer, the denial surprisingly strong.

Steve smoothed his hand over your hair.

“Baby, you’re shaking like a leaf. You’re freezing.”

You curled tighter and shuddered as a wave of terror emulated through your body. Steve pulled you all the way into his lap. He was worried by your lack of reaction as he situated you between his spread legs, your back to his front. There was no point in calling back down to Happy. Steve knew Tony was working on the elevator as fast as he could. Triaging what issues he could affect, and which ones he couldn’t, Steve used the mass of his body to surround yours. He peeled off his gloves and laced his fingers through yours, rubbing the skin to warm it. You shuddered again, violently.

He heard the short quick breaths and knew that no matter what you said, this was panic. Maybe even a panic attack. He wasn’t familiar enough to know the exact threshold of what constituted a full blown panic attack, but your gasping inhalations spoke for themselves. Steve clenched his arms around you and held on. You groaned and he saw the corner of your eyes crinkle as he nuzzled your temple. What had been shaking and tremors a minute ago were increasing to convulsions that rattled your entire frame.

“Shhh… It’s okay. I’m right here. You’re safe. We’re in Avengers Tower. You’re safe.”

You were as rigid as a board.

He settled a firm hand on your shoulders and kept a gentle grip. You shuddered and clutched your arms around your knees. He stroked up and down your upper arms. His hands moved down to your elbows and back up, over your shoulders and neck. He didn’t know what to say - so he didn’t say anything. He just kept trying to soothe you with his hands and the shelter of his body.

Slowly, you eased against him and uncurled from your tense position. Steve sighed, quietly, his eyes sliding shut on a wave of relief. You turned to burrow into him as if you could crawl into his suit with him. At the moment, he wished you could.

Then, to his surprise, you grabbed his shoulders and swung your leg over his hips. Steve’s hands automatically moved to your bottom. Out of habit he kneaded the supple flesh. When he realized what he was doing, he froze.

“I’m sorry, doll. I-”

He broke off when he looked up and saw the burning lust reflected in your eyes. His brain short circuited. In a moment, all of the information he’d ever stored in his mind was lost. Steve stared, unfathoming, as your mouth descended onto his. Later, he would reflect that he’d felt like a male spider being hypnotized by its mate.

Your hands went to his utility belt and undid the buckle with quick fingers. Steve hadn’t yet recovered his senses. He was motionless as you undid the snaps covering the zipper of his pants. Lust unfurled in his belly as you slid down the fly and pushed the material apart. The familiar feeling of your hand closing around his dick triggered an instant wave of arousal.

“Ah, fuck…”

The word slipped from his lips, the vulgarity almost going unnoticed, as his brain switched off and his body took over. Steve moaned and thrust into your teasing grip. He moaned as your hand fell away, then grunted approvingly when your lips pressed against his. Steve could still feel the heat of post-mission adrenaline pulsing in his blood. Combined with the pleasure of arousal, it created an intoxicating cocktail in his brain.

“Baby, please,” Steve gasped as you ground yourself over his dick.

“Mmmhh…” your tone was sweet and as viscous as honey.

The sound went straight to his cock.

“Off,” Steve grunted, tugging at the waistband of your skirt.

You continued voraciously attacking his mouth, cheeks, neck, and throat with your lips.

Steve was bubbling with emotions. After days of pent up stress, fear, rage, and despair, he’d thrown himself into your rescue mission. The consequence was that now he was a super soldier teetering on the edge of control. His usual control was slipping away and he just couldn’t hold on to it for another second. Your teeth scraped his jugular and your tongue darted out to soothe the wound with a gentle lick. The sensation went straight to his spine, electrifying every nerve in his body as it traveled down to his groin.

He threw back his head, snarling at the wild pleasure and the mounting frustration of not being inside of you.

You pulled back from the kiss, just enough to speak. Your lips brushed his.

“Fuck me. Please, Steve. I need you so bad.”

That snapped the last thread of his control.

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

He pushed you off his lap, and stood in a graceful movement. You’d almost climbed to your knees when Steve reached down, cinched an arm around your waist, and lifted you. He pivoted to the wall in a whirl and lifted you higher so your legs could wrap around his waist. You clung to him, breathless from the rush of being manhandled against the wall.

Oxygen left your lungs as Steve attacked your neck with the same fervor you’d gone at him with. Your eyes rolled back as he found the spot that made you feel as if every nerve in your skin was on full alert.

“Steve! Oh!”

He growled and rutted against you, only separated by the thin barrier of your panties.

“Fuck me!”

You meant for the words to be a demand, but he rubbed the head of his cock across your clit at the moment you started to speak. You whimpered the command in a hoarse cry of need.

Steve shoved a hand between your bodies, pushed his fingers into the crotch of your panties and ripped. The material was strong and you felt the sting as well-stitched seems dug into your skin. Steve hissed and twisted the material around his hand. You yelped at the snap of elastic, then moaned as the material vanished. The heated flesh of Steve’s arousal finally pressed to your needy core.

He adjusted his grip and lifted you over his erection. Accommodating the broad tip was always the most difficult part of making love to Steve.

Before you knew what was happening, he’d rubbed his thickness in your dripping juices, coating himself just enough, and then buried his dick in your vulnerable sex. The panels of wall behind you bowed, rattling under the force of Steve’s invasion. You cried out and clung to his shoulders as he slammed into you, splitting you open without a shred of finesse. Tears rolled down your cheeks at the harsh burn of him pushing through your folds. The friction should have been unpleasant but the heightened tension made it feel different. Your pussy rippled and juices flooded your channel to ease his entry. Steve moaned against your ear. That noise reverberated through your body and echoed in your heart. This was exactly what you needed.

You tossed your head and rocked against him o aid the difficult joining of your bodies. Steve gave a low grunt and cinched his arms around your hips. You gasped when he lifted you and thrust up at the same time he let go. You shrieked at the abrupt invasion of him in the deepest parts of your body. The wetness eased the burn as your pussy accepted every inch.

Steve grunted and you felt the coolness of the elevator panel on your back again as he pinned you against the wall.

“That’s it, baby. That’s what I want. What I need. You feel like heaven.”

Your pussy clenched and he gasped.

“Fuck. Fuck! I’m… I need…”

You stroked your hands over his trembling muscles and nuzzled his jaw.

“S’okay,” you said. “Please. I need it too.”

He shivered. Then his eyes turned dark, so only a tiny ring of blue remained around his pupils. You clung tightly as he left control behind and simply unraveled. It was impossible to keep up with him as he pounded out all the frustration, terror, and pain he’d felt over the past few days into your body. Your legs shook from the depth of his cock and the angle of his pelvis as he hammered into you with abandon. Pleasure swamped you, radiating out from your core, extending deeper and further with every brutal thrust of Steve’s hips.

“Aaahhh!”

The tension snapped without warning and you screamed in ecstasy as the climax erupted. Your vision went black and your heart felt as if it was about to explode. The orgasm destroyed your senses and ripped your muscles apart in spams of ecstasy more powerful than anything you’d ever experienced.

Steve didn’t seem to realize you were in orgasmic bliss as his thrusts continued in the exact same rhythm. You choked on an exclamation, so lost in the throes of your own release that you couldn’t speak. Steve growled and his hands tightened on your hips.

“Hold still, baby girl. Fuck. Aw… fucking hell!”

His head dropped to your chest and his panted breath warmed your decolletage as he rutted even harder. You croaked out what should have been a wail, if you’d had the air to make such a sound. You couldn’t get enough breath for a proper scream. Steve rolled his hips and the slight change of angle ground your clit against his pubic bone. A second orgasm slammed into you, shattering all sense of self and stripping you until the only thing you knew was the endless pleasure rippling through your muscles and sizzling along your nerves. The orgasm went on, and on, flooding your eyes with tears and finally bringing air into your lungs. You sobbed. The pleasure was so intense it was almost painful. Your pussy didn’t flutter - it seized with the violence of a climax you hadn’t imagined yourself capable of.

Steve’s tongue curled around your nipple before his lips closed to suck the tender bud with enthusiasm. You screamed and arched, bucking with the sudden flash of pleasure that blazed through you. In the haze of climax, you hadn’t even noticed when he’d tugged down your shirt and pushed aside the cup of your bra.

He was still thrusting. You felt the warmth of his release and knew he’d already come, perhaps several times. The release didn’t seem to matter. You remained trapped between the pleasure demon feasting on your breast, and the metal panel of the elevator wall. It shook from the force of Steve’s body pounding into yours. The deep angle was nudging a little spot you hadn’t known about before today. It was somewhere in the very back of your pussy and his thrusts seemed to strike it at just the right angle to make your bones turn liquid. Your muscles went slack as the next orgasm came. You whimpered, then it stuck. This time your muscles shook and your body trembled but there was no wild thrashing - you were nearly limp from exhaustion.

Steve groaned. You felt the warmth of his release. He shuddered and you felt the signs that he was finally slowing. Unexpectedly, he reached between your legs and stroked your clit. The rumble of his voice was reassuring, but you couldn’t hear the words, as your body shuddered through a climax that hit like a sucker punch. You clawed at the material of Steve’s uniform, lost in the pleasurable agony of the last orgasm being ripped from your body.

The world fell away. Steve’s arms holding you tight were all you could feel as blackness descended.

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

“Come on. Come back, sweetheart. Open your eyes.”

You turned away from the fingers gently stroking your cheek. You felt like your eyelids were weighted down.

“That’s it. There she is.”

The crooning voice interrupted your peaceful cocoon of sleep.

“Honey. Open your eyes.”

This time the voice was commanding. Your eyes flickered, but fell closed. A hand grasped your chin and white light glowed behind your closed lids.

“Come back to me.”

The sternness was nowhere to be found now. The voice had an edge of fear in it. Your eyes opened to the blurry sight of a figure leaning over you. Your arms were warm. Looking down, you saw Steve had draped your sweater over you like a blanket. You were in his lap, curled into his chest, with his arms cradling your back and knees.

You struggled for words and realized that your tongue was thick and your mouth was dry.

“Shhh…” Steve murmured.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead and nuzzled your temple.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m sorry. They’re going to be done fixing the elevator in a minute.”

That sounded really good. You nodded and relaxed into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder.

“That’s it. Go ahead and rest. I’m not going anywhere.”

The fierce note in his voice nearly permeated the fog over your brain but you were so exhausted that you couldn’t push back the urge of sleep.

An unknown length of time passed before a jolt of the elevator car started you into awareness. You bolted upright and were only saved from hitting your head on the railing by Steve’s grip on your waist.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. We’re going to get out of here. I’ve got you.”

The words circulated in your brain, only half absorbed, as you struggled up from the depths of a sleep cycle.

“How long…?”

“Ninety minutes.”

Steve’s voice sounded odd. You looked at him and saw the worried knit of his brow, and the tension in his shoulders.

“Steve,” you mumbled through a sore throat.

The word came out scratchy. His eyes dropped and he looked as if he’d been slapped. Then the pitiful look disappeared behind a composed mask.

“I’m going to take you back to medical, sweetheart. They need to check you out again.”

“No.”

“Don’t argue,” Steve said.

You shook your head and burrowed into his arms.

“Not…going…”

A heavy sigh, followed by a gentle squeeze of Steve’s arms, let you know you’d won as the elevator began to move again.

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

The next time you woke up it was sunny.

Light streamed through the window and you were surprised to find that you were the only occupant of the King sized bed you usually shared with Steve.

Shoving down the covers, you stood on shaky knees to make your way to the living room.

Steve didn’t look up when you came in. He was so still that it took a second for you to notice him. He had the lights off and the curtains drawn. A feeling of dread washed over you. Dawn was Steve’s favorite time of day. Unless he was seriously injured, or sick, he never missed a chance to sit with his coffee and enjoy the sunrise.

You stepped towards him and he startled, his head whipping around.

“Steve?”

He blinked, his lashes fluttering with surprise.

You could sense anxiety but couldn’t understand the reason for it. Seeing Steve’s emotions so plainly written on his face triggered yours. You climbed onto the sofa next to him, curling your feet underneath your legs.

“Are you okay?” His voice was raspy.

Your eyes settled on the end table where two empty bottles of blueberry bourbon sat.

“Yeah. Are you?”

His head tipped back. “No.”

You reached for him, but he pulled away. Miffed by the rejection you stared as Steve slid to the corner of the sofa.

“What? What’s wrong?” you asked.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

Steve blinked, his eyebrows drawing down as his jaw clenched.

“For what?” He said, repeating your question with a sharp sting of bitterness that made you flinch.

You were at a loss for words.

“Steve…”

What did you do? What does one say when they don’t understand the root of the problem? You could read the obvious signals that he didn’t want to be touched, but decided to ignore them.

There were a few things you knew about your boyfriend. One of them was that, while his main love language was quality time, when he was upset his love language became physical touch. Steve shifted away, but you pretended not to notice as you wrapped yourself around him and snuggled up with your head on his shoulder.

“Talk to me. Please, Steve.”

He grunted.

“I apologize. For how I treated you today. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say. All I can tell you is that it will never happen again.”

You turned your face up, ready to protest, but Steve laid a finger over your lips. His expression was stern and set with determination.

“It. Will. Never. Happen. Again.”

- - - - - - - - -

Master List

[soulgazingwithbucky]

Chances (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Agent!F!Reader

Summary: For most, life is too short to miss any chances. For Steve Rogers, life is too long to take all of them.

Warnings: swearing; mentions of blood, gun use, violence; unhappy ending (alternate ending needed?!)

Word Count: 8.3k

A/N: hey everyone i have a crush i cant do anything about so i made it everyone's problem in the form of this fic. also i swear bucky's coming back to my writing with a vengeance

“Coulson, slow down,” you grumble. The clock reads an ungodly hour, and Coulson’s near-incomprehensible speech only propels you further into half-conscious annoyance.

“Get up,” Phil urges. “We found him.”

⋆⋆⋆

You lean in, ears straining as Captain America addresses Agent Horowitz.

“Where am I, really?” he says.

Your eyes dart back and forth between several screens.

“Shit,” Fury hisses. A moment later, you hear the door slam behind you.

“Told you!” you call after him as Horowitz reports a Code 13.

You turn around to look at Hill, who watches the monitors with her arms across her chest.

“I told him,” you say as Captain America breaks through the walls, shoving agents to the ground.

⋆⋆⋆

Fury takes a seat beside you with a huff.

With your eyes on your computer, you start, “I–”

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence.”

Maria peers at you over her screen, flashing you a barely-there smirk. You instead ask a question to satiate your curiosity.

“Is…he okay?”

Fury gives an exasperated shrug.

“Said he had a date.”

⋆⋆⋆

“How’s the apartment, Captain Rogers?” Fury asks. Across the desk, Steve sits, shifting uncomfortably as the chair struggles under his frame.

“Fine,” he says curtly, his eyes flitting between all the different objects in Fury’s office. You and Maria share a look.

“Have you been getting enough rest?” she asks.

“Trying.”

“Well, we have another meeting to run to, Captain,” Fury says, “but you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. The agents have a gym in the basement, and the dining facility is on the tenth floor.”

He stands up; you and Maria follow closely behind.

There’s no meeting. You had planned to spend an hour with Captain Rogers, but it’s clear there isn’t much to say. You look back at Steve with his head low, his back hunched.

“What do we do, Fury?” you ask, closing the door behind you.

“Give him time.”

While Hill and Fury retreat to their offices, you change into your workout clothes and make your way to the basement. You’re surprised to step out of the elevator and see an impossibly muscular frame standing by the gym entrance.

“Captain,�� you greet. He’s peering past the glass with a slight grimace, staring at the equipment–fancy, shiny things with a thousand buttons each.

“Agent,” he responds, replacing his uncomfortable expression with a solemn nod.

“Nice, isn’t it?” you say, standing beside him to observe the room together.

He chuckles, more out of astonishment than anything.

“Yeah,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. His eyes shift downwards at his feet before peering back up, watching your coworkers sprint on the treadmill or re-rack their weights. “It’s something.”

“What are you gonna do?” you say, eyeing the leg press machine that’s calling your name. You look over at Steve just as he glances at the punching bag. He opens his mouth to answer you, but then he notices the odd wires coming from behind the bag, the complicated mat beneath that seems to be flashing at least five different colors. He closes his mouth and instead shakes his head.

“Just giving myself a tour,” he answers.

You tilt your head at his fib.

“You got a minute?” you ask, your request earning a raised eyebrow.

⋆⋆⋆

“Migs!” you exclaim, throwing your hands up at the sight of the combat gym owner.

He yells your name in response as you meet in front of his business’s entrance.

“Appreciate it, Migs,” you say as the older gentleman pulls you into a side hug. You wrap your arm around his back, returning the embrace.

“Anything for you, kiddo,” Miguel, a near-father figure who has a few decades on you, responds as he unlocks the gym door.

Behind you, Steve smiles at the friendly exchange. He stays a good distance away, partly out of respect and partly out of caution.

Regardless, it’s hard to ignore the man built like a linebacker with striking movie-star looks.

“Who the hell is this guy?” Miguel demands, gesturing at the hero in the shadows. Steve blinks in surprise. In the past few weeks, he has been the center of attention–not unlike his life before the ice, but somehow completely unlike it at the same time. Despite his longing to be invisible once again, he’s taken aback that someone doesn’t recognize him.

“A friend,” you tell him, shooting Steve a wink. He smiles, welcoming the anonymity.

Miguel turns on the lights, illuminating the gym in dim orange. Steve steps in, admiring the weathered facility. Surrounded by muted walls, a dusty floor, and tattered boxing ropes, he feels a sense of comfort that’s completely novel to him since coming out of the ice.

Miguel takes all of thirty seconds to show the captain around.

“We got mitts, gloves on the rack over there,” he says, keys jingling as he gestures around him. “Boxing ring with a round timer, obviously. Uhhhh, jump ropes, elliptical–if it’s working. And then you got the bags…Oh, and we also got one-on-one training-” Miguel pauses, scanning Steve from head to toe “-if you need that sorta thing.”

Steve chuckles, murmuring his gratitude.

“You need anything else, ace?” Miguel asks you.

You shake your head. “Just sign up my friend for a membership, and we’ll be good.”

Steve’s head snaps up at your request. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

As Miguel passes you an application on a clipboard, you say, “Good thing you didn’t ask.”

⋆⋆⋆

“I hope I’m not overstepping,” Steve tells you, gesturing for the waiter as you slide into the booth.

“Not at all,” you say, still catching your breath from hurrying over. You’re not sure why the captain has called you, but you know it has to be important. Steve’s eyes drift to your brow, where a butterfly bandage holds a wound closed.

“That Loki’s a fun one,” you say, bringing a hand to the injury. You don’t feel the need to indulge him in the details of nearly getting buried underneath a collapsing building. “Is everything okay, Captain?”

“Steve, please,” he insists.

“Is everything okay…Steve?” Though you’ve seen the captain’s name printed in briefs and articles a million times, it feels odd to address him by name. “Miguel didn’t try to charge you that ridiculous sweating fee?”

He lets out an amused exhale through his nose and shakes his head.

“It’s funny you mention Loki. I…wanted to ask your opinion. On the Avengers Initiative.”

Surprise paints your face. You weren’t expecting to be Captain America’s advisor tonight. But you lean back and sigh with the weight of his request. Your waiter comes to take your order, giving you a few moments of reprieve.

“I know what Fury would want me to say,” you say after your waiter exits.

He leans forward, resting clasped hands on the table.

“I want to know what you want to say,” he implores, his piercing gaze making it difficult to collect your thoughts. You take a deep breath.

“I think…you need time to heal,” you begin. “To recover. I mean, not like I’ve got the experience, but something tells me you don’t wake up after seventy years fully assimilated. In a perfect world, you would get all the time you need to be okay before getting back out into the world, let alone saving it.”

He knows the answer, but he presses, “And what world is this?”

The words feel heavy on your tongue.

“One that needs you.”

You watch his troubled eyes, the twitch of his lip.

“But you already knew that, didn’t you?” you say.

He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself.

He looks up at you, repeating: “Yeah. I guess I just needed to hear it from someone else.”

“Glad I could help,” you say. You peek over his head, trying to peer into the kitchen. Steve nudges his plate towards you, and you gratefully take a few of his fries.

⋆⋆⋆

“Dillard, find out what’s going on in Bay 3 for me. So what do you think?”

The upper half of your body is hidden under thick pipes. You peer closely at the maze of metal, willing the leak to show itself.

“He’s…cute.”

You lift your head to look at Nat. The loud bang echoes throughout the room as your head meets pipes. You wince, dragging yourself out of the underbelly of Helicarrier plumbing. Nat raises an eyebrow as you rub your head.

“Not what I thought you were going to say,” you reply. 

“So you disagree?” she says, tilting her head.

“Uh. No?” you say, tapping nervously on the wrench. She smiles as you avert your gaze. “How are the…other ones? Thor and Dr. Banner and the rest?”

“I should probably make sure they’re not tearing each other apart,” Nat says, rolling her eyes. “You coming?”

You look around you. The hull is so much quieter than the rest of the carrier, allowing you to bask in comfortable silence while you and your crew work.

“Nah. Hill is better at that kinda stuff. I’ll be here if you need me.”

⋆⋆⋆

Above you, the ceiling shakes slightly, scattering dust around you. You stand up slowly, the sound of distant rumbling calling your attention.

“All hands to stations.”

“Shit!” you cry, dropping your tools and sprinting up the stairs.

Agents are running all around you, and the hallway is flooded in flashing red. You have no idea what’s going on, but you rush to the weapons room, ready to defend the Helicarrier from god-knows-what.

You crash into someone’s shoulder, the force sending you spinning to the ground. Strong hands grasp your arms, lifting you to your feet.

“Sorry,” Steve says between breaths.

“Steve,” you say. “What’s going on?”

“Under attack. Be safe. Check in later.”

“Copy that.”

He clasps your shoulders again before disappearing into the crowd of agents. You watch him for a second before turning around, continuing on to the weapons room.

Agent Weaver catches up to you.

“First name basis, huh?”

“Shut up.”

⋆⋆⋆

You hesitate before rapping on the door three times.

Steve greets you with a smile. Beads of water are dripping from his hair down his neck.  He’s in sweatpants and a white tee that could definitely be sized up. As you enter his apartment, he hands you a takeout container.

“Thanks for coming,” he says as he closes the door behind you.

“Well, when you bribe me with shawarma…”

He laughs, but he’s rubbing his hands together and crinkling his eyebrows. You set your food down and plant yourself in front of him.

“Hey, it’s just a debrief,” you tell him, wrapping your hands around his biceps. Your touch brings him back to reality. “It’s no big deal. Fury just talks for an hour.”

“Yeah, it’s…been a while since one of these, I guess.” He tries to laugh it off.

You leave his side, sitting down at the dining room table.

“If it makes you feel better, you did about two million dollars less damage than Bruce and Thor.”

“It’s not that.” He throws himself on the couch, stretching his legs along the cushions. “I guess authority has never been a big fan of me.”

“Authority doesn’t get along with Captain America?”

“Authority doesn’t get along with the punk that lied about fifty times to get into the military.”

You speak between bites: “Then you must’ve gotten along with Tony Stark. Wonder why Nat said you had your panties in a twist over him.”

He perks up, resting his arms along the back of the couch. “She said that? Exactly like that?”

You snicker at his sudden interest, choking on a slice of tomato. “Does that bother you?” you tease.

He concedes, leaning back on the couch’s arm. “That Stark is something else. I wonder what Peggy would say if she knew I almost fought Howard’s son.” Steve stares at a spot on the wall, his mind a flurry of what-ifs.

⋆⋆⋆

Ambush. You’ve been tasked to partner with Captain America for his first official SHIELD assignment, and it’s a fucking ambush.

“Stay close,” the captain says.

Steve tosses his shield at someone behind you. You hear them slump to the ground while another approaches; the shield narrowly misses you as you duck and sweep your leg out, causing a third henchman to crash to the floor.

“Watch it!” you say before Steve knocks you to the ground, shielding your body while a whizz of bullets flying past.

“Guess someone has to,” Steve shoots back before pulling you up. You roll your eyes as you unholster two weapons on your belt, one pointed to your left and the other pointed behind you. You pull both triggers without batting an eye. You don’t bother looking; Steve’s mesmerized expression confirms that you’ve hit your targets.

Steve is speechless. He has never seen you in battle before, and it’s–

“Six o’clock, Rogers!” you say, causing the hero to duck down as you aim a bullet at a man sprinting towards you. You hear yet another coming from behind, and you aim a bullet at Steve’s shield. You turn just in time to see the ricocheted bullet take out the last goon.

Knowing you were safe, you let out a fatigued sigh and pat your newest coworker on the shoulder.

“Welcome to SHIELD, Cap.”

⋆⋆⋆

Macau was absolutely beautiful, but the jet lag never quite wore off, especially when your tasks still catered to Eastern fucking Standard Time. As much as you could appreciate the change of pace, you hoped Fury would never give you an assignment like this again.

- idk steve, seems a little unfair to assign me to track the train in vancouver when i was assigned the lemurian star just a couple weeks ago. did you KNOW what time it was over here?!

- anyway, im going to bed. night!

- You've only told me a hundred times. I’m glad it was you helping us out, even if you had to track the Star from thousands of miles away.

- Good night. Sweet dreams.

- :)

You smile at the three notifications on your phone. Tucking yourself under the covers, you reach over to turn off your night lamp.

Ring ring ring.

Maria’s name on your phone earns a prolonged groan from you. So first they schedule meetings at all hours, and now they expect you to pick up the phone at every possible second.

“Hill, I love you, but I swear to god–”

“You remember that sushi place? The one on 10th Avenue?”

You feel a sudden sweat forming on your brow, even though the air conditioner is blasting. You had first heard the coded emergency message years ago, when you first trained for SHIELD. Never did you think it would actually be used.

You clear your throat, forcing your voice to steady.

“Yes, we were there with your mom and your grandma.”

Is someone listening? Are you okay? Who compromised SHIELD?

“Right. I’ll talk to you later.” Maria’s voice betrays nothing before she hangs up the call.

You only brought a duffel bag to Macau, and you’re now shoving it full of underwear and clothes. 

Wait, honestly, fuck it–Hill’s call told you scatter immediately, who the fuck cares if you had enough shirts?

You leave the SHIELD-sanctioned apartment, tossing your phone into a nearby garbage bin. You think of Nat, of Fury, of Steve. You wonder if they’re okay, but you have to settle for never knowing.

⋆⋆⋆

Red pixels fill your screen, slowly sharpening into a familiar face.

“Nat,” you gasp. Any suspicion about the unknown number on your burner phone melts away.

“Hey,” she says. She delivers her greeting with the nonchalance of a friend who has just seen you for brunch. “If you were a traitor, you would tell me, right?”

You match her lopsided smile. “No, of course not. Hey, what’s your social security number again?”

Natasha laughs, but her joy dissipates quickly.

“Nat? What’s been going on?”

On your end, you’ve been on the run, though you never quite knew who you were running from. You’ve had no contact with your coworkers since you received the call from Hill. You’ve heard various rumors, but you haven’t had the comfort of confirming their truth.

She peers somewhere off camera.

“A lot.”

She turns back to you, continuing: “He…hasn’t been good.”

“Why? What’s happening?”

You hold your breath as Nat stands up, willing her shaky camera work to still. You can barely make out their bare environment, lighted only by bars of fluorescent light.

“Maybe he should tell you himself.”

You watch as Nat hands over the phone. Steve looks up at her in confusion before turning towards her device. You see the relief flood his features. He says your name like it’s a breath of air after being held underwater.

“Steve,” you greet softly. “Are you okay?”

Steve presses his lips together. His eyes become dazed as he tries to find the words. After a few moments, you say his name again.

“I had a friend.

“A best friend,” he begins. “I thought I lost him.”

He hangs his head, and for a moment, all you see are strings of blonde hair.

“But the truth is much worse.”

The last time you had spoken, Steve was an explosion of excitement, practically setting the world record for longest run-on sentence as he told you Peggy was alive. Now, your heart breaks at the sight of the dejected hero.

“He doesn’t even remember me,” Steve continues.

You want to cry for Steve and tell him everything will be okay. You want to invite him into your arms and hold him. Instead, something tells you to push that aside. You grit your teeth; your grip is tight on your phone. You have half a mind to book a plane ticket to…you don’t even know where they are, but you want to be there, dammit.

“Then do something he won’t forget, Steve.”

⋆⋆⋆

You rush through the halls, dodging white coats and crash carts. 

Room 311, room 311, room 311…

An armed guard reaches out to stop you before recognition settles. You glare at him, but the delay causes you to rethink storming into the hospital room after Steve’s near-death experience. You peer at him through the window, pressing your hand onto the glass. With the stitches along his cheek, the bruising on his jaw, and the scrapes along his browline, he looks…fallible. Vulnerable. Human.

You make eye contact with the man sitting beside him. He looks unfamiliar to you, but the bruises and cuts on his face tell you enough. He gives you a slow nod before turning back to his book.

⋆⋆⋆

You and Steve lean in closely, pretending to be deep in conversation while you keep a watchful eye on Bruce and Nat. You lean against the Stark Tower wall while Steve stands in front of you.

“I knew it,” he whispers, testing the limits of his peripheral vision as he peers at his friends.

“Yeah?” you say, taking a sip from the flute of champagne.

He turns his attention away from the two to face you. “One hundred percent. It was a perk of being friends with Bucky–I could see the girls drooling from a mile away.”

“And if they were drooling for you?” you say, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah. Right,” he says, his eyebrows shifting upwards in disbelief as he takes a sip from his own drink.

“Maybe you just couldn’t tell,” you inform him.

“I think I would know, agent,” he tells you.

You reach out to adjust the collar of his shirt. As you pull away, your fingertips brush against his neck.

“I guess you would, captain.”

He gives you that dazzling, all-American smile before glancing at the bar. Nat looks up at the same time, locking eyes with Steve. He turns back to you abruptly, slamming his hand on the wall by your head in feigned nonchalance.

“Real subtle, Rogers,” you tell him. Tony rolls his eyes at the sight of you pinned beneath the captain’s body.

Steve drops his head, and you feel his hair graze your forehead. You’re glad he’s too engrossed in his embarrassment to notice that his proximity has made you dizzy.

“Shit,” he murmurs, stepping away. “Sorry.”

“Romanoff!” you call with a smirk. “Get the swear jar!”

⋆⋆⋆

“Can we talk about the mall again?” you question. So what if your words are slurring together a little, who cares?

Nat tucks her chin, willing you to continue with expectant eyes.

“So you mean to tell me…,” you begin slowly.

“Yes.”

“You look like that…And Steve looks like that…”

“Sure.”

“And your solution to avoid attention was to…”

“Kiss.”

“Kiss, right.”

You and Nat share a look before devolving into a fit of laughter.

“And it–”

“–worked!” Nat finishes. She takes a swig of her beer. “I’m good at what I do, agent. I don’t know what to tell you.”

Your eyes drop to the floor. You fiddle with the rim of your glass, before telling your friend:

“Tell me it meant nothing.”

Nat looks at Bruce, who has tucked himself between Dr. Cho and Clint. He looks on as Rhodey shares a familiar story, smiling and chuckling at all the right parts. He feels her eyes on him, and he gives her a smile that feels like home.

Her eyes move to Steve next, America’s hero for the better part of a century. He’s unmistakable. He commands attention, and he deserves it, too. He stands tall, knowing the world is always watching.

Finally, her gaze lands on you. You’re incredibly capable, magnificently skilled, and you would deny it all in a second. Her most humble friend, who declines the most notorious assignments to bask in the solace of the less glamorous work instead.

She reaches over the bar to place her hand atop yours. With all due respect, fuck Lillian with the lip piercing, and fuck Kristen from Accounting. Steve’s perfect match is right in front of her.

⋆⋆⋆

You feel your airways functioning again as the weight of the couch is lifted off of you. You swallow lungfuls of air, and the sudden intake causes you to choke and cough. Warmth radiates from strong hands on either sides of your head.

“Hey,” Steve croons. “Hey, I’m here.”

“Actually, I wedged myself between the couch and the floor,” you groan through the sharp pain in your ribs, “in hopes that Thor would rescue me from the big metal man.”

Your poorly-timed joke catches Steve off guard, and he finds himself laughing as he searches you for any hidden injuries.

“Yeah, you definitely have a concussion.”

⋆⋆⋆

You watch as the unfamiliar number blinks on your phone, but something compels you to answer. Steve’s face appears on your screen, an apologetic smile painting his face. The last you heard, the Avengers were following a lead on Ultron before going dark.

“Steve! Are you okay?”

He peers around him. You can make out a sunny window, rustic decor…is that a child’s toy?

“I can’t stay for long,” he says. “But–yes. We’ll…figure it out.”

He sees the concern on your face, and he knows what you’re about to say:

“What can I do?”

“Lay low,” he says, almost immediately, recalling how Ultron nearly ended your life with Stark’s god-awful furniture. “Keep yourself safe.”

You rub your temples. It’s as if you’re being dragged back to SHIELD’s dissolution, hurtled into a life of mystery and solitude that you hadn’t asked for.

You see a wave of red as Nat pushes her head in between Steve and the camera.

“At least five bad language words since we got here, agent,” she says. You laugh, already picturing the look Steve is giving her behind her curtain of curls. “Wish you were here.”

“Me too.”

Steve watches her walk off, and then waits a few moments longer.

“I saw her,” he tells you, his face dropping all signs of amusement.

You shake your head, trying to piece together what Steve wants to tell you.

“She said the war was over, that we could go home,” he continues. “Then I was back, here. On the ground. Alone.”

“You’re not alone, Steve,” you insist.

But he doesn’t quite hear you.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve scoots into the booth, unbuttoning his black suit jacket. You take the seat right beside him. He lets out a subdued sniff and asks you how the convention went.

“I know the world needs you to be big and strong,” you tell him, “but I don’t.”

You open your arms, and he chuckles before resting his head on your shoulder. You envelop him in a hug, rubbing his back.

“Never ask me about those boring fucking conventions again,” you murmur, feeling his tears fall onto the shoulder of your blouse. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Steve.”

Steve fishes around his pocket and brings out his compass. At the press of a button, it opens, revealing a photograph of Peggy. She looked breathtaking, with her strong jawline, perfect curls, and fierce gaze. Steve hesitates, then passes the device to you. You move your arm from Steve to hold the memento with both hands. You run your finger over the photo’s fading edges.

“And she liked you?” you jest to cover the emotions that are running through you. Why are tears prickling your eyes?

“Once,” Steve responds with a chuckle as you pass him back his most prized possession, “a long time ago.”

He sits up, stiffening. Before you can question the change of demeanor, he confesses, “I…can’t sign the Accords.”

You give him a faint smile, as if it hasn’t been the topic of discussion at the Madrid convention. You were more than happy to meet him in London, especially if it meant getting away from chatty politicians with pesky questions.

“I know, Steve,” you say, holding his face in your hands. You run your thumb down his cheek, erasing a drying line of tears. You ignore how the air leaves your lungs as Steve’s eyes flutter closed and he leans into your touch. “I know.”

⋆⋆⋆

“You’re too good to be down here, agent.”

Sharon pauses her scribbling to punctuate her sentence with a smile.

“You know this is where I like it,” you tell her from the other side of the bulletproof panel. Sharon slides the sign-out sheet back to you. You stifle a laugh as you read that Go Fuck Yourself has signed out two quantities of kiss my ass. Right before you buzz her into weapons lockup, she stops you.

“Wait,” she says abruptly, startling you. “Are you sure?”

Since the day you took him to the boxing gym, you have become Steve’s safe place. In times of need, on the run with Nat or holed up in Clint’s home, he desperately wished you were there. Never mind the comforting touch or the distracting joke, just your presence beside him was enough to turn the weight of the world into a bag of feathers.

Now, Steve has called in a favor. Get the shield and the wings to Sharon, and she’ll cover the rest. No big deal, just betray the federal entity you work for and be indefinitely on the lam. Run, and don’t take any chances.

“Never been more sure in my life.”

You press the button harder than you need to, and the door swings open. Sharon steps through, taking in the towering rows of weapons.

“Whoa,” she says. The massive basement room was the perfect place to house all of the CIA’s most dangerous arms, including Captain America’s shield and the Falcon’s wings.

You lead Sharon through shelves of alien technology and massive guns.

“Might’ve been less sure if I had a metal hand punching me into the wall, though,” you say, looking back at her as she tries to rub out the pain in her back.

She snorts and shakes her head. “I’m glad you were far away from that mess,” she says earnestly.

“Didn’t really have a choice. When we went into lockdown, I was shut in.”

You shudder as you remember the weapons rooms’ light cutting out suddenly, plunging you into darkness. An agent had announced a code red over the walkie, and you sprinted towards the door–just in time to watch the metal gates slam down. You had pounded on the metal, desperate to escape. Your gut told you what–or rather, who–played a role in the Code Red.

You grunt as you pull on the box. It falls to the floor with less grace than you hoped, and Sharon tugs it open. She lights up at the sight of the vibranium shield, her smile wide and her eyes bright. She catches your eye and immediately drops her smile.

With a shake of her head, she apologizes and says, “Um…thank you.”

⋆⋆⋆

“West entrance, thirty seconds,” Nat tells you. You hear her tapping on her keyboard, and the doors in front of you hiss open. You creep quietly into the darkness of the Raft corridor, with Steve following closely behind.

Steve presses his fingers to his ear.  “We’re in.”

“Wait for my signal,” Nat murmurs. “You have three minutes to take down the guards, then about five minutes after that before their backup arrives.”

“Eight minutes?” you say incredulously. “Steve, she thinks we’re amateurs.”

Nat snickers from the comforts of the Quinjet. “Just know, if you get caught, I’ll sleep soundly knowing I left both of your asses behind.”

You feign a horrified gasp. “Steve! Cover your ears!”

You don’t have to see him to know Steve is currently tilting his head in disbelief.

Nat cuts off any retort he might have had: “And now.”

You and Steve move in unison. He takes a boot to the door, and you spare no time to fire a hailstorm of bullets into the room. Your attack disarms several guards and destroys the audiovisual equipment. Steve tosses his shield around the room, and it bounces off the remaining guards, knocking them to their feet.

You place your foot on a guard’s chest, nodding at Steve.

“I’ll keep them here.”

The captain disappears into the cell block. You can hear the distant sounds of Steve breaking through jail bars, followed by triumphant cheers and joyous reunions.

Your earpiece crackles; Nat is switching you both to a different channel.

“Now’s as good a time as any,” she tells you.

You stare past the doorway, not quite sure how to respond. She continues: “We don’t know when we’ll see each other again. We’re fugitives now.”

A few minutes later, Steve reappears, a proud smile on his face.

“They’re headed to the jet,” he says. “We did it.”

You force a smile back at him as he leads you out of the room. His arm extends to your waist and you hold your breath; but, he continues reaching until he can close the door behind you and break off the doorknob. As he pulls away, you capture your hand in his. You love the way he laces his fingers between yours, almost reflexively.

“Steve…”

We don’t know when we’ll see each other again.

His eyebrows scrunch in concern. Were you injured? Did a guard send out an emergency signal? But your expression tells a different story; his cool blue eyes could bore holes into your skull. You can only stammer, so Steve speaks instead.

“Wherever you go,” he says, unlacing his hands to instead place it on your cheek, “I can always be there. You just say the word.”

You close your eyes. You won’t know when you’ll see him again, and you lean into his touch, pressing his hand harder into your cheek.

“Two minutes,” Nat’s voice, barely audible, comes over your earpieces.

Steve pulls you into a hug.

“Check in. Stay close. Don’t take any chances,” he whispers.

How could you? The biggest chance you could’ve taken just slipped through your fingers.

⋆⋆⋆

“Oh my god! Thor?!”

Steve practically scoffs, scratching at his beard.

“I’m good, thanks,” he says. “How are you?”

“As good as I could be,” you say. You look around the feeble apartment, a micro-studio with a bed and a kitchenette. You landed in Shanghai after abandoning post, figuring one of the most populous cities in the world would be the perfect place to go into hiding.

Steve doesn’t seem to like that answer.

“I’m so sorry.”

“That a grown woman made a decision?” you scoff. “Sure, I forgive you, then.”

You raise a chuckle from him, and he feels that familiar sensation of relief and comfort at the sound of your voice. Steve made you a vagabond, but you held on tight to your favorite title of smartass.

“How about you?” you say. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he says, pushing long strands of hair away from his face.

“You with Sam? Nat?”

“Nearby.”

“Bucky?”

“With a friend.”

You blow through your lips.

“Sharon?” You say your friend’s name as if it were a throwaway line.

Steve squints at you through the screen, and you shift uncomfortably on your mattress. Your eyes dart everywhere–anywhere but your phone–while you wait for his response.

“No,” he answers. “No idea where she is.”

You purse your lips. You weren’t sure what you wanted to hear, and you feel an odd mixture of happy and sad all at once.

“Are you just checking in?” Steve wonders. “Or–?”

“Yeah,” you quickly answer. “Checking in.”

Silence settles for a few moments, before Steve tells you: “I wish you were here.”

You give him a measly “me too” and a sad smile.

“Soon?” you offer, though it’s the emptiest promise you’ve ever given.

“Soon,” is his response, the biggest lie he’s ever told.

⋆⋆⋆

You promptly withdraw your pocket pistol, peering around the corner. You knew it wouldn’t be long until the CIA found you, but, damn, you just got to Cape Town. With your finger on the trigger, you step out of your hiding spot…

…and are greeted by familiar blue eyes.

“You said stay close, right?” Steve says with a smile.

You call for him breathlessly. Your body suddenly feels like jello and your knees threaten to buckle underneath you. Your gun nearly slips from your grasp as you run forward, right into Steve’s welcoming arms. He locks you in a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. You feel your feet leave the ground as Steve lifts you, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to burst into tears.

With only the occasional video call being your only form of communication, you’ve nearly forgotten what Steve looks like from the shoulders down. When he puts you down, you hold him at arm’s length and stare, as if you’re trying to commit him to memory.

“Steve,” you say his name again, still reeling from the fact that he’s here, he’s really here. You shake your head vigorously. “You can’t be here–it’s too dangerous–”

“It’s okay,” he assures you. “I couldn’t go without you.”

“Go where?”

⋆⋆⋆

You squeeze your eyes shut as the aircraft passes through the translucent panels. When you open your eyes, the panels are behind you. The warrior piloting the plane smiles at your shock.

Steve watches you the whole time, captured by the sense of wonder painted on your face. He reaches over to squeeze your shoulder.

“Welcome to Wakanda.”

A small welcoming committee smiles brightly as you and Steve step off of the aircraft. Steve goes straight to a man with a bun, while the other two approach you.

“Greetings, agent,” the king greets you. “I am–”

“King T’Challa,” you say, meeting his handshake with fervency. “Your highness, it’s an honor.”

“The honor is all mine,” T’Challa responds with a smile. He gestures to the younger woman beside him. “And this is Princess Shuri, my sister.”

“Princess,” you greet. You reach your hand out, but quickly shift into a fist bump as Shuri reaches out a closed fist.

“Agent,” she responds with a grin. “I hope you will find your stay enjoyable.”

“Are you kidding me?” you say, then realizing you’re speaking much too casually for royalty. “I mean–the plane ride was easily the most luxurious experience of my life. I’m not sure how you’ll get me to leave.” Shuri’s grin spreads wider.

“I apologize, but we must be going,” T’Challa says. “But you have everything that you need, I assure you.”

You peer over at Steve, who grips the brunette’s shoulder as he laughs.

“And if you don’t,” Shuri calls as she and her brother take their leave, “you can ask any of the bald, mean-looking women.”

“Shuri!”

“They’re the Dora Milaje,” the man beside Steve explains as they approach you, “Wakanda’s elite warriors.”

Steve chest swells with pride as he introduces, “This is Bucky. My best friend.”

Bucky’s shakes your hand. He doesn’t wait for you to introduce yourself, instead saying your name to you.

“Heard a lot,” Bucky says with a smile. You glance at Steve, surprised that you’ve been a topic of discussion for the two.

“All good things,” Steve says, grinning at his best friend.

“Oh, great things,” Bucky adds assuredly as you feel your ears burning.

⋆⋆⋆

Ayo, one of the warriors, spares a few moments to meet you and Steve. She stands solemnly as you sit on the grass, your palms rested behind you.

“Bucky is, um…?” You’re not quite sure how to ask if the man is still capable of snapping your neck without an ounce of regret.

“We are working on it,” she says, keeping her eyes forward. You follow her gaze, watching as a group of children do and redo the best friends’ hair. Steve’s hair is first in a high ponytail, then two low buns. He catches your eye and waves, a wide grin on his face. You wave back as he and Bucky laugh at each other’s hairstyles.

Ayo follows Steve’s gaze back to you.

“We had arranged two bedrooms…”

You sit up straight with wide eyes.

“Th- And that’s totally fine.”

“It is no issue.”

Ayo walks away as Steve chases some of the children, feigning fatigue as they run away giggling.

“It’s a good look for him,” Bucky comments. Bucky is eyeing the three ponytails on top of his best friend’s head, but you’re taking in the sight of Steve consoling a child who has fallen. He gestures elaborately, as if casting a magic spell on the scrape. The child laughs and runs away, instantly remedied.

“It is,” you murmur.

You feel Bucky’s eyes on you, and you clear your throat. “Was–Was he like this before, too?”

Bucky cheeks puff as he releases an exaggerated exhale. “Hell no.”

“No?”

“Worse, so much worse. Insufferable, really.”

Steve jogs up to you. “They call you White Wolf, Buck? Do we all get nicknames?”

“Maybe,” Bucky says with a shrug. “You could be…”

“White Man,” you offer, earning a disbelieving look from Steve and a hearty laugh from Bucky.

“Or,” Bucky says, “I can tell them that Peggy called you–”

Steve shoves his friend, earning another laugh from the brunette.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve leans his forearm against the window. Below, the city lights dance, bright glimmers against an otherwise dark night.

“It’s good for him here,” he tells you with a smile on his lips.

“Wakanda looks good on you, too,” you say. The bed shifts as you stand up, joining Steve at the window. Wakanda is absolutely beautiful, and you understand why the country is hidden away from the rest of the world. “Maybe you should stay here.”

“Maybe we should,” he suggests, “but clearly their space is limited.”

You and Steve peer back at the singular bed that occupies the room.

“I told Ayo–”

“And I told Bucky–”

“It’s no big deal, right?”

“Right,” Steve says, mirroring your doubtful tone.

You both gingerly approach, like two idiots who have never seen a bed before. He cautiously approaches one side while you approach the other, slipping in and leaving as much space between you as possible. Steve scoots closer ever so slightly, but grabs a pillow, fluffing it and placing it between you two.

You and Steve spend a few minutes staring at the ceiling until your eyes form warped images in the darkness. Eventually, he sighs. You turn to ask him what’s wrong, but instead see him take the pillow and toss it across the room.

“Fuck it,” he murmurs, pulling you into his muscled chest.

“Language,” you mutter. But your eyelids already feel droopy as sleep pulls you under. Tonight, sleep smells like sandalwood and feels like heaven. Tonight, your dreams are blonde wisps and bright eyes that threaten to pull you into the ocean deep.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve is just broad shoulders and sullen disposition from your spot in the darkness.

“...Tony Stark, also known as the hero Iron Man, has been reported missing…”

“Get your things, Steve,” you say, stepping out from the shadows.

You’re the only thing that can pull Steve away from his racing thoughts. He forces his eyes off the screen, away from the image of a grinning Tony.

“Where are we going?” he says as you reach out to tug on his shoulder, a silent urge to gather his things. His hand finds a home over yours, holding it in place.

“Edinburgh.”

⋆⋆⋆

You start the search again, maybe the fifteenth time in the past five minutes.

The bar slowly fills up, reaching one hundred percent…

No results found.

“Nothing, Steve,” you tell him, your voice hoarse. Thanos might as well have vanished.

The captain is still for a moment before his hand comes down on the console table. After the glass breaks and the books clatter, you can only hear Steve’s deep breaths as he tries to calm himself. He takes long strides towards the door.

No results found.

“Steve–don’t take any chances. We’ll find him,” you say pleadingly. “He knows we’ll find him.”

As Steve mourned Bucky back in 1944, he wished he had something to bury. A final home for his best friend. A meeting place for him to visit. Something, anything to remember him by. Now he has his ashes, and he realizes how stupid he was to think it would bring him any relief.

No results found.

“Then he should be here to tell me himself.”

You flinch as the door slams shut behind him.

⋆⋆⋆

You pull a brown plaid shirt from Steve’s closet. You hold it up to his frame.

“I should’ve told you this eleven years ago,” you say as you pull the shirt off its hanger, “but you should really size up.”

He chuckles as he takes the shirt from you, slipping it through his arms. You begin to button the shirt as Steve looks on through the mirror. These days, he’s not quite sure who it is looking back at him.

“I don’t know what to tell them,” he says. If he wasn’t so numb, he might feel anxious. His stomach may have flipped at the thought of the support group sitting in a melancholic circle, staring at him, waiting for his words of wisdom.

You give him a sad smile, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He captures your hands in his before you can pull away.

“Tell them what you told me,” you say, and your hands slowly slip from his grasp. “About Peggy.” You give one final tug on his shirt before sending him on his way.

⋆⋆⋆

Steve looks anxious at your weekly dinner. He pushes around the contents of his plate without taking a single bite. You watch him, waiting for him to speak. When nothing ever comes, you ask him yourself. He drops his fork, finally stopping his nervous assault on his sliced carrots. He can’t stop thinking of Scott Lang, waving at him from the security cameras.

“What have you heard about…time travel?”

⋆⋆⋆

“Buck, can I…talk to you?”

Steve’s hesitant question causes you to put down the bandage. You’re not quite sure why Steve called you to the compound at this hour, and you’re even more unsure of why he was nowhere to be found while you made yourself comfortable in the kitchen. You feel lucky enough that Bucky made his way down, looking for something to sterilize his wounds. Usually, you would kill time talking to Nat, but–

“Sure,” Bucky answers. He gives you an unreadable look as he disappears with Steve into his room. You keep yourself busy, cleaning up the used medical supplies, until the super soldiers reappear. You see Bucky’s jaw clench ever so slightly; otherwise, he is nearly expressionless. He approaches you, nodding towards Steve. You slip off of the kitchen counter stool and Steve places his hand on your lower back, leading you into his room.

His room in the compound is nearly bare, save for what Tony has furnished himself. Not even the record player that he proudly found years ago, the only possession in his former SHIELD apartment.

You sit at the edge of Steve’s bed while he moves his armchair and plants himself in front of you. He takes your hands in his, leans forward, and stares earnestly into your eyes.

“Steve?” You can’t ignore the feeling churning in your gut.

“You have been so good to me,” he begins. The inner parts of his eyebrows raise up in sincerity. “And I just want to say thank you.”

“You’re…welcome,” you say, a quip getting lost in your confusion.

“Tomorrow, I return the infinity stones.”

You nod. You knew that. He knew you knew that.

“And…I’m not coming back.”

You let out a wry chuckle. “Don’t worry,” you say, finding your voice suddenly hoarse. “You know Dr. Banner will make sure–”

“The last stone I have to return is in 1949,” he explains. Are you shaking your head at him? Is your entire body quaking? You’re not quite sure. “And I’m going to stay.”

I love you, Steve.

I love you so goddamn much.

I’ve loved you from that moment you sat in Fury’s stupid, flimsy chair.

I’ve loved you since you looked at me like I was your entire world, all because I took you to the worst gym in New York.

I’ve loved you in every moment, in every iteration, in every semblance of you.

And Steve Rogers, I know you love me, too.

You want to reach for Steve’s hand, but you’re frozen, and your clammy hands stay rooted in your lap. You give him a smile that you hope looks genuine.

“You had a date.”

⋆⋆⋆

You leave Steve behind in his room, insisting he didn’t need to walk you out. Insisting you didn’t need to spend the night, or ask any more questions.

Bucky leans against the kitchen counter, unmoving. You move to stand beside him.

“He can’t,” you whisper as you approach. Your fists are clenched so tightly that you’re nearly drawing blood.

“He made his choice,” Bucky responds. He matches your hushed volume, but his collected tone contrasts your panicked timbre.

“He can’t,” you say again. Maybe he didn’t hear you correctly.

“It’s his life,” Bucky tells you, in the same even voice.

“He can’t.” Your knees can’t hold you anymore. You’re falling, and Bucky catches your wrists in an effort to keep you from slumping to the ground.

You fight against his grip. You find the sides of your fists beating against his chest. Bucky falls with you. His cold eyes stare ahead, into the darkness beyond the compound. Your tears are hot, pouring onto your face like streams of lava.

He can’t

He can’t

He can’t

⋆⋆⋆

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

You watch the best friends pull each other into an embrace. Bucky’s smile doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

Steve turns to you, and your bitter frown turns into a painted smile. His muscled arms pull you into a hug next.

“Check in,” he says.

“Stay close,” you respond, closing your eyes and breathing him in. Your eyes squeeze shut as you pull him into a tighter embrace. When you release, Steve flicks away a stray tear from your face.

“Don’t take any chances.” He lingers a moment too long with his hands pressed against your jawline, his eyes searching for something unknown in your expression. Eventually, all too soon, he steps into Dr. Banner’s machine. At the press of a button, he’s gone.

Bruce counts down, preparing his machine for Steve’s return, one that you know won’t ever happen. Eventually, beside you, he and Sam break into a frenzied argument, but somehow they sound so far away.

“Sam.”

Bucky’s sharp voice draws the attention of the three of you. You follow Bucky’s gaze to an elderly man sitting on a bench. You can only see the back of his head, but you gasp.

Your feet are carrying towards the man, right alongside Sam and Bucky.

You can feel Sam’s perplexed gaze shift from you to Bucky.

“Go ahead,” Bucky urges.

You feel like you’re watching from miles away as Sam slowly approaches the captain. Every heartbeat feels like your heart is sinking further down into your stomach, and you force yourself to walk away. As soon as your back is turned, the tears flow freely. You stifle your sobs, disappearing behind a tree, out of sight from the other four heroes.

Bucky keeps his smile as he watches the astonished Sam receive the shield, just as he and Steve discussed. He sees the journey ahead for Sam, the man with a future yet to forge.

He glances back, seeing only a portion of you behind a tree trunk, heaving with the weight of your burdened cries. His heart aches for you, a lifetime of possibilities turned into memories of the past. The light at the end of the tunnel was simply a mirage for the woman left behind.

[xxwritemeastoryxx]

I Had You

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6K

Warnings: Character ‘Death’, angst. Canon Infinity War, first time writing for Steve Rogers counts as a warning. 🤣

Author’s Note: Coming in hot for the last few hours of 2022. I wanted to get this out so much earlier, but the damn data/wifi has been shit this week for some reason. Anyways, I wanted to get this one out before I managed to toss this in the 'purge' pile. I wasn't about to have that so I finished it. It's not my best, but it definitely isn't my worst fic out there. Any feedback helps since it's the first I'm writing for Steve. Thanks for reading and Happy New Year Everyone!  The dividers are by firefly-graphics. 

I do not and will not ever give permission for my fics to be copied and posted on other sites. Don’t do it. Don’t be that person that ruins it for me and everyone else.

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. While likes are appreciated, reblogs are gold. Seriously, if you enjoyed this in the slightest, please reblog ♥

When Y/N had first discovered her powers, she never once believed they would be used like this. She never believed she’d be fighting beside others in an attempt to save the world from a Titan that was hell bent on collecting the infinity stones. And if anyone had told her those exact words years ago, she would have laughed in their face. 

What she had expected was to fight alongside the Avengers when it was needed. Her training may have not been as experienced as the others, but her regenerative abilities made her one of their best weapons. She expected to be the one to help diffuse a rather sticky situation. She expected to be put in the line of fire to help the innocent. 

But this, she never saw coming. 

Everyone on my position. We have incoming. 

That was the queue to get to Steve. That was the queue to be there and be ready for whatever it was they were about to face. But no matter what Y/N did to try and break free from the battles that were going on by the barrier, she couldn’t. It didn't matter which way she turned to leave, she was met with more of the creatures that charged at her. 

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed between that signal and her continuing to help keep the creatures at the border. With each creature she killed she was met with a few more that surrounded her. And with each hit she took, she continued on. 

At least that was until there was a shift in everything. An energy source blasted through the trees causing every human and creature to stop at the blast. Their eyes move straight for the trees. Everything within Y/N was telling her Wanda had destroyed the stone. 

That should have been the end of it. There should have been some relief that the stone had been destroyed. Yet the satisfaction of the blast didn't fill Y/N as it should have. 

But in the moments to follow, it was as if things had been reversed rather quickly. It left Y/N stunned when the energy source passed her again heading back into the treeline as if it never happened. And with that, silence eerily filled the air. 

The creatures that fought so desperately to destroy them had stopped before they began retreating. As Y/N’s eyes began to scan the area around her, that’s when she first saw several of the warriors around her begin to fade into dust. 

Her eyes widened in horror as she took it in before her. Her head shook as she turned in the direction Steve had last gone before he was calling out to all of them. Even looking in that direction, she saw others meeting the same fate. 

Her hand quickly went up to her ear to call out to Steve, but her comms had gotten knocked out at some point. Even if she tried looking for it now, it wouldn't be fast enough. But it was as she began bringing her hand down that she noticed her hands began to flake. 

Fear and panic filled her as she expected to completely disappear as the others had. Instead familiar pain rolled through her body as it began regenerating itself. She watched as the pieces that disintegrated before her eyes slowly heal. Without another thought, she began running. 

There was now only two things that were going through her mind as she began running. There was a fear that the same thing was happening to Steve and her friends. She needed to get to them. Even if she didn’t make it in time, she hoped to see any of them for the briefest of moments. The other was the hope that if her body was fighting as it was, it could hang on long enough give up trying to disappear and she’d be fine. As she ran, memories began to flash before her eyes.

“You shouldn’t be so willing to put yourself in danger like that.” Steve’s voice carried into the room in the med bay. Y/N’s back was turned to him as he leaned against the frame.

Y/N scoffed and shook her head as she began removing the bandages that had been pointlessly put onto her skin. “That's a little hypocritical, don’t you think?” 

“I meant denonating the bomb while being in range of it. Most people I know make sure they’re clear.”

“I had a job and I did it. Everyone’s safe and that’s what matters.” 

“Except for you. I don’t even know how you’re even standing right now.”

Y/N zipped up her sweater once the bandages were removed and turned to face Steve to walk past him. “I’m all healed up Cap. So no need to make those worry lines permanent.” 

Shock was written on his face trying to make sense of what just happened. Y/N had been through an explosion and had several injuries that should have made it so she was bedridden for weeks. Instead she was walking away as if it was another random Tuesday. 

She pushed herself up over the small hill before making it into the treeline. For the briefest of seconds, she leaned up against the second tree she came across. But the moment her body leaned against it, it began disintegrating, forcing her to keep moving. 

Even if she hadn't seen the others, everything within her was wanting and needing to see Steve. Her only goal was to get to him, to at least see him one last time. If he was safe, she could fight this for as long as she needed to. To keep fighting until whatever this was stopped. If he was gone, she hoped to hell that she could fight it off with whoever was left standing.  

“Why didn’t you tell me you regenerate like that?”

Steve’s voice had caught her off guard causing her to stiffen as she looked over the city. It had been almost a year since Steve had tried lecturing her. He had never been able to put the pieces together. While some things could be written off as the cradle being used, other things left Steve scratching his head. 

Soon the questions were forgotten when he began growing close with Y/N. While he had his moments of awkwardness, or even her moments of putting up a wall, they had found some way through it all to be together. 

Y/N always kept her secret though. Very few people knew about her regenerative abilities and she liked keeping it that way. When it came to Steve…Y/N felt that telling him would change things. Out of selfishness, she wanted to hold on to that information for as long as possible. 

It wasn’t until earlier today during a mission that Y/N had been burned by pushing a civilian out of the way of a plasma ray. Her body had been blistered and fried in many places. And if Steve hadn’t been kneeling beside her after the blast, he wouldn’t have believed if anyone told him that Y/N’s face healed right before his eyes. 

She turned around to look at him. “Because you would look at me the way you are now.” Steve began shaking his head attempting to stop her, but she continued. “It’s not with pity or worry. You’re intrigued. Fascinated by the fact that now you have someone who can’t die on missions.”

“Believe it or not, I’m more hurt that you didn’t feel like you could trust me with that information.” He sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Who else knows?”

“Fury.” She watched as he rolled his eyes. “Hydra.” She watched as his eyes shot back to her at her words. “Nat, only because she stumbled upon my secret just as you had. Fury fixes my records anytime I’m in the med bay. No one else knows. It's why a majority of the time I take forever getting to the rendezvous point after missions. I wait until my face is healed so no one questions things.” She walked over to stand in front of him as he took in the details. “It’s not that I don’t trust you. Because I trust you with everything else.”

“But not this?”

She shook her head. “I was afraid that once you knew, it’d be me that would be put in the line of fire. Because in the world of ‘whatever it takes’ I’d be the ‘whatever’ every time.” 

Steve shook his head and brought his hand up to her cheek. “I promise you that I would never do that to you. I hate seeing you hurt and I would never intentionally put you through that for the sake of a mission.”

Just a little farther. Was all Y/N kept telling herself. Her pace in running had slowed to a stumbling jog. Her feet no longer balanced as they used to be as her body fought to stay together.  She knew at some point she'd reach the others. They had to be close. 

She could hear the voices in the distance calling out to others. Every part of her being, even the pieces currently regenerating, was hoping Steve hadn't disappeared like the others. 

"I know I've said this a time or two before, but for a moment there I really thought I lost you." Steve's voice held the weight of relief. 

A weak chuckle passed Y/N's lips as she took in her surroundings. Her body aches in places from spending the last few weeks regenerating. "Got you three to stop fighting. Mission successful." 

A huff of a scoff came from Steve as he shook his head. "Good to know your sense of humor never changes." Steve gently took a hold of her hand. "Tony thought he killed you." He watched as she opened her mouth to speak but he continued. "You've never been hurt that badly before.  The other times you could walk it off easily. I've never once heard you cry out in pain like that. It's a sound I'd rather not hear again."

The echoes of Y/N's screams still played within his ears. From the moment the blast from Tony's repulsor. While it was aimed at Bucky and Steve, Y/N found herself between them, earning a direct hit to her chest. Something that should have easily killed a human that wasn't enhanced with super serum or wearing any armor. 

"Doubt there would be a chance to pull off another heroic act." While her tone held humor, it was the truth. They were supposed to be on the run. Anything that put attention on them would get them caught. 

"I wouldn't say there wasn't a chance." That caused Y/N's eyebrow to raise. The familiar look on Steve's face gives her more information than his words do. "Not saying for you to jump right in because you definitely need more time to heal. Just depends on how well you can stay under the radar. "

"I'm surprised you aren't out there already."

"Couldn't do it without you being there by my side."

There were several things running through Steve as he knelt on the floor in disbelief staring at the exact spot his best friend had been standing moments ago. One being what was happening now that Thanos had snapped his fingers. His mind was refusing to wrap around the events he had just witnessed as Bucky turned to dust. The other surge of thoughts was what if the same thing was happening to Y/N?

Y/N

It was the thought of her that instantly brought Steve out of his semi frozen state and began looking for her. He knew he hadn't seen her in the moments that Thanos had been there. While part of him didn't know if he should be relieved by that information or worried by it. If she hadn't been close by and the same thing happened to her, he wouldn't know. 

"Anyone got eyes on Y/N?" He called 

He could hear Rhody calling for Sam in the background. His ears could pick up on the other cries of disbelief at allies simply disappearing right before their eyes. 

When Steve couldn't find her in his nearest surroundings, he began making his way towards where they had been stationed by the perimeter. If there was still a chance she was there, he'd find her. He refused to think about what it meant to lose Y/N and Bucky at that moment. Losing one was going to be hard. Losing both, his brain and heart couldn't even begin to form a string of responses. 

His feet had only carried himself a short distance before he caught movement in the trees ahead of him. There was the sound of stumbling as feet shuffled forward. A moment later Y/N came into his view. 

The second Steve’s eyes landed on Y/N he knew something was wrong. It was the way her brows were furrowed as her body attempted to piece itself back together as quickly as it could. He learned from experience that her wearing that look was never good. 

The pain she must have been feeling in that second had nothing to do with the possible aches and pains that came from fighting during a mission. She never felt the normal pains that came with it like he had. Her body could easily heal itself within minutes. But the last time she had that look on her face, her body had taken weeks to heal after she had shielded him from a blast from Tony’s repulsor back in Siberia.

“Y/N?” He called out as he began quickly walking towards her. 

Her eyes shot up to him and a sudden sense of relief had washed over her. He was still there and okay. He hadn’t disappeared like the other she had seen on her way over there to find him. He was still there and she hadn’t been too late. 

Her feet moved into a run the moment her eyes landed on him. She needed to not only see him, but be in his arms. And the moment she was, she tried her hardest to wrap her arms around him. But the slightest pressure felt off. It felt wrong as her body tried to regenerate itself. 

Steve hadn’t missed the way the particles had moved away from her just as it had the others. Just as he had seen with Bucky. He hadn’t missed the way her body was disappearing from the effect of Thanos’s snap. Or the way her body was fighting to regenerate itself just as quickly. 

“I didn’t think I’d make it.” Y/N’s words were rushed. She needed to get the words out as quickly as she could since she didn’t know how much longer she could fight this off. 

“I’ve got you.” Steve hadn’t missed the way her body tried to evaporate the moment his arms wrapped around her. She was going right before his eyes but her body was fighting it. The pieces that were quickly disappearing were regenerating just as quickly in an attempt to keep her together. 

No one else has fought it off. No one else had been capable of doing so. Her body was working in overdrive to piece her back together when the stones were ripping her to pieces. If anyone could fight it, it had to be Y/N. 

Steve slowly brought them down to their knees. The grip Y/N had on Steve lessened by the second before the slightest pressure reappeared. An ongoing cycle in the span of a few seconds. 

"I don't know what's happening." The words were rushed as they left Y/N. 

"You're fighting it." Steve's voice was soft. "We can find a way to stop it." 

Y/N heard the hopefulness in his voice, along with the fear. It caused a sad smile to pull at her lips as she looked up at him. "We don't even know if there is a way."

"We'll keep trying until there is one." He promised. He brought up his hand to her face and as his thumb ran along her cheek he could easily see the way her skin disintegrated into nothing before her body fought hard to piece her back together. 

The sound of the others finding them hadn't gone unnoticed by the two. But they kept their attention on each other. The next few moments were too important for them to look towards the others. 

"What if I can't-" A jolt of pain shot through her, causing a scream to pass her lips. 

With the scream, Steve's grip tightened on her. The ache in his chest grew by the second. He watched as her body regenerated at a slower pace in comparison to how it had been seconds before. 

The pain that radiates through her body was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She had limbs ripped into and should have been dead on several occasions. Nothing she experienced as an agent and then as an Avenger had ever felt like this. Her body felt like it was being torn apart repeatedly as her body tried to keep up. But it was becoming useless. 

“It hurts.” Her lips trembled as her body continued to fight against what was happening to her. "I don't know how long I can keep fighting it."

Steve's eyes looked over her face, taking in every detail of her. Everything his eyes landed on, he committed further to memory. As much as he hated to even begin to think of the words he needed to tell her, he knew she needed to hear them.

The string of thoughts that his brain refused to create earlier were now there in full force. He was about to lose both of the people he cared about most. He couldn't even begin to help Bucky and that ate away a part of him already. With Y/N, she could only hold on for so long before it became unbearable. 

He couldn't keep her in the pain she was feeling. She couldn't stay that way until they found a way to keep her from turning into dust. He couldn't do that to her. Not when he made a promise to her. It was as tears began falling from her eyes that his mind had accepted what was going to happen. 

He nodded his head, more to himself than to her.  “Don’t fight it. It will happen quickly. The harder you fight, the more it will hurt. "

Steve had no idea if that was the case. He had no idea if letting go would be painless for her. But if it gave her the peace she needed to let go, he'd tell her whatever she needed. 

Y/N shook her head slightly, particles drifting off more as she did. "I-" 

"No goodbyes." He quickly added in to stop her from saying what she wanted. "I won't stop until we fix this. Always fighting to the very end with you, remember" 

"Wouldn't have it any other way." A sad chuckle followed before she took a deep breath. 

"Do you ever think about stopping?" Y/N asked as she packed her duffle bag. 

Steve stopped mid packing the weapons bag before looking over his shoulder. "Stopping what exactly?" 

Y/N shrugged her shoulders slightly. "The undercover missions? We're on the run and still doing missions." Her eyes moved up to meet his. "Have you thought about one day you'd want to stop? Have a life outside of the heroics?" 

He actually had to stop and think about that answer. For as much as they had been doing side missions after the Accords went south, he hadn't been thinking about stopping any time soon. He had only thought about continuing to help those in need while avoiding the authorities. 

"I can't say I have." He said with a slight nod of his head before continuing to pack the bag before zipping it closed. He turned his attention to her. "Have you?" 

She added the last of her makeshift tactical gear before closing her duffle bag. "Not to stop now." She admitted. "But there will be a day that I will want to stop fighting. I just wonder if you'd be willing to stop with me?" 

Steve closed the distance between them before wrapping his arms around her. The comfort of his arms around her was enough to bring a smile to her face as she looked up at him. 

"The day you decide you're done, is the day I'll stop. But until then I will fight until the very end with you by my side." For as long as he'd known her, stopping wasn't in her nature. He actually had to be the one to convince her to take a break. If she was done, that was saying something. 

A small smirk pulled at her lips. "With Sam, Nat and Bucky close by, right?" 

A laugh passed his lips. "Wouldn't have it any other way." 

Y/N's eyes never left Steve's as she forced her body to relax. For the first time in her life she wasn't allowing her body to heal her as it had all the times before. She'd have to stop fighting. Not in the way she ever believe she would. She watched as his eyes glassed over before he blinked back the tears as much as he could. 

Steve hadn't missed the moment her body relaxed. The moment it had, he watched as her body disintegrated just as fast the others had before. With the weight of her body gone, his hands and arms to drop quickly to his lap. 

The reminants of dust laid around him. The silence that came with the snap was nothing in comparison to the silence with Y/N gone. And as he looked up at the others the same question laid within their eyes. 

What exactly happened? And how the hell do they fix it. 

All WorksTag (The tag to be notified for everything I write):

@mrs-maximoff-kenner @mizzzpink  @friendelius @thatfanficstuff @mushroomelephant @23victoria @avengers-fixation​

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@hellotvshowtrash @dpaccione @old-enough-to-know-better73 @elijahs-wife @kpopgirlbtssvt @theartofhotchinthesnow @bluebear142077 @thatweirdoleigh @loving-life-my-way​

Captain America Tag (For only and all things Steve):

@fandom-princess-forevermore @freyathehuntress​

[aynanasstuff]

Smut drabble// #4

Warnings: MINORS DNI 18+ only, choking (please educate yourself before you try it, if not done safely it can do lasting damage), fem!reader, unprotected sex

masterlist

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Your wide eyes snap him out of the moment. He realizes his hand is around your neck.

"Shit, I'm sorry- sorry, fuck- I'm so so-" Sam stutters as he pulls out of you.

You pull him close, "Harder."

Sam now mimics the previous look on your face.

"What?"

"Choke me. Harder."

"You want that? Want my hand around your neck, so close I could take your breath away?" His fingers trail upwards from your navel.

You smirk, "You already did that, did you forget?"

Sam chuckles, the moment so intimate but your playfulness still present.

He slides himself into you, your lips finding his, silencing your moans.

Sam slowly slides his hand around your throat, squeezing gently.

"Fuck baby, if I knew it got you clenching down on me so desperately I would've done this a long time ago."

Your eyes roll back in your head and he knew he had you on the edge again.

"You gonna let go of me now, hmm?" He coos, "I don't think you are, baby, your pussy doesn't seem to like that."

"Fuck, Sam, I'm so close." You moan.

"Cum for me, make a mess, yeah? You gonna do that?"

"Yeah, fuck yeah, I'm about to cum, don't stop, don't fucking- ah shit, shit, oh fuck!".

He spills into you as you cum, your hands intertwining beside you, the room filling up with heavy breaths.

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Tags: @lil-stark @nelleana @janetsnakehole02 @blueberrynonnie @fluffyprettykitty @fluffycutecevans @chrisfucksblog @musingsinmoonlight @turbolisedcomet (don't be hesitant to lemme know if you don't wanna be tagged in smut, no hard feelings :))

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

A Life Without You is intriguing me!!!!

“𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞?” 𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚘𝚔𝚎 𝚜𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚏𝚝𝚕𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚒𝚝 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚗𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗’𝚝 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

“𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭?”

“𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐏𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐲?” 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚍𝚎 𝚒𝚝 𝚜𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝. 𝙷𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚞𝚙 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚏𝚏𝚎𝚍, 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚞𝚛𝚐𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚘𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚢𝚎𝚜. “𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞?” 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚊 𝚏𝚎𝚠 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍, 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚘𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚖. 𝙰𝚕𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚐𝚝𝚑 𝚛𝚒𝚟𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚞𝚜𝚑 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚖𝚋𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚙𝚜.

“𝐈—”

“𝐍𝐨,” 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚌𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚘𝚏𝚏, 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚠𝚊𝚕𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚛𝚘𝚘𝚖 𝚋𝚎𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗. “𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧. 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐈 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞, 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨, 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞. 𝐒𝐨 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡. 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.”

i have both endings written, happy and… not. still could go either way at this point asdhfa;sldgdk so… yeah. also this isn’t at all similar to my (andrew) peter x reader story i promise. it just so happened that the 2 requests for previews in a row sound pretty similar. 

if you’d like to be tagged when this is posted, send me a message / ask, or comment on this! mention the title, or simply the character name if you’d like to be tagged in everything written for them!

[buckys-wintersoldier]

Never say “no” to your husband | Steve Rogers

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Dark!Mob!Husband!Steve Rogers x Wife!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> You say “no” when Steve wants you to warm his cock in front of his men.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 557

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> 18+, Minors DNI Smut, dark!Steve, mention of fingering, unprotected p in v, rough sex

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> 🧚🏻‍♀️✨Bippity boppity bow chicka wow oww! You’ve been visited by the Shameless Hoe Fairy, and now you must share a hoe drabble about: Dark!Steve Rogers + covering your mouth @stargazingfangirl18

𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you for sending that Drabble idea. It was funny.

Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist

“Come on. Don’t be like that, honey.”

Steve groans and grasps your hand, stopping you from leaving the room while he turns you around. Your front crashes almost painfully against the hard wall in front of you. You hiss softly, and Steve pushes himself against you, holding you tight between the wall and his body. You can feel his tensing muscles against your back and the way his fingers dig into your skin.

“Stevie, pl-,” you whimper, but you get interrupted by his forward thrusting hips.

Steve's hand snaps to your face, covering your mouth before you can complain or beg even more. He knows that you would try to convince him to let go of you, but he won’t. He is desperate, and he wants you, your tight pussy. He owns his reward; he is the most popular mob boss, so he deserves to be treated like that. He thrusts his hips another time forward, his growing bulge pressing against your ass, and you whine against his hand.

“Told you to be good. Wanted to bury my dick inside of you earlier, but you made a scene. There were just a few of my men. You're a bad girl. You little slut, now I’m gonna fuck you,” he mumbles into your ear before he kisses down your neck.

Steve’s hand, which isn’t covering your mouth, removes your pants, freeing his cock. He moans loudly when he runs his thumb over the tip of his hard cock, smearing the pre-cum all over his dick, and gives himself a few strokes. Your husband loves to have you like that, begging for him to stop, maybe for his cock - depends on his mood. But now he just wants to fuck the attitude out of you, the way you said “no” to him when he told you to warm his dick. You didn’t want to, since he had a meeting with his men. Steve didn’t like to hear a no when it came to things he asked for. Not to mention that he always gets what he wants, as does his sweet little wife, who has to give him whatever he wants.

Steve’s hand lets go of his dick, sliding around your body until he reaches your pussy, moving them through your already wet folds. Steve chuckles, knowing your body exactly and how to touch you to make you drip like that. He rubs your clit, adding more pressure while he listens to the soft, muffled moans that leave your lips.

“Like that, don’t you? Such a pretty little slut for me.”

Before you can protest in any way, he shoves his dick inside of you. Your walls are stretching painfully, but your arousal makes it easy for him to slide balls deep inside of your tight pussy. Steve can’t get enough of it. Can’t get enough of you and your pretty little pussy.

“Don’t try to wiggle out of my grip. We both know you love that, love being fucked like that by your husband,” he groans, starting to thurst in a brutal pace inside of you.

His hand covers your mouth, your screams and moans muffled by it, while his dick stretches you like no one else could. And as much as you hate to admit it, he is able to fuck you whenever and wherever you want.

Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @nicoline1998enilocin @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @felicitylemon @cjand10 @casa-boiardi @cevansbaby-dove @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf

[anonymityisfunwriter]

"Slut!"

Pairing - Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader Summary - It was perfect. Lovelorn and nobody knows. Love thorns all over this rose. You almost forgot just how hard the fall back to reality is. But if they call you a slut, it might be worth it for once.

Steve Rogers Masterlist | Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

"She goes through guys like a train-"

You immediately change the channel. The next one isn't better. You don't know why you thought it would be.

"The Stark last name and the long list of ex-lovers, that's her claim to fame. I mean, let's be honest here, she's a slu-" The tabloid reporter is abruptly cut off as the screen before you goes dark.

You look up to find Steve with the remote in his hand. He glares at the screen like the reporter was still talking, "You shouldn't be watching that."

"I'm used to it."

"You shouldn't be. It's despicable. They were - the things they're calling you-"

"A slut," you finish for him.

His eyes dart to you, that furrow between his eyebrows getting deeper and deeper with every word spoken, "It's not true. This isn't journalism, it's slander."

You weren't sure how this happened. Sure, it was only a matter of time before they found you out. This wasn't the first time. Not the second or the third either. If the press was to be believed, you were love sick. Love struck with a new man every week.

It wasn't the first time someone called you a slut. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

You stopped living your life in fear of what people would say a long time ago. Being this young was an art. And up until now, you thought you mastered it.

It was simple. You even had your rules. You followed them and no one got hurt - or at the very least, it minimized the damage.

They were going to stare at you. Strangers. Press. The flashing cameras. It came with being a Stark. If they're going to look, you gave them something to look at. You didn't so much as step out on the street with a single hair out of place. You were flawless. Always.

You were nineteen, and on the heels of a breakup with your second ever boyfriend, the first time someone spit that word at you - "slut!" It hurt, but it didn't hurt as much as you thought it would. It almost made you laugh. You realized that they didn't really care about your love life or about the trail of broken hearts you were supposedly leaving behind. They wanted a spectacle. They wanted a show. If you're going to be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.

It was easier after that. You knew the truth. The people around you knew the truth. You let everyone else believe what they wanted. You did what you wanted. You lived your life without worrying about being called a slut. They were going to call you one anyway. And if they call you a slut, you might as well make it worth it.

You gave just enough to keep them satisfied. Never anything too real. Never too much. Just enough that they wouldn't dare peak behind closed doors. Just enough to be able to live your life.

There were was a cost, of course. No one took you seriously. You dealt with the vague humiliation of the rumors constantly swirling about your hips and thighs and whispered sighs.

And though you inherited the Stark genius, no one cared about what you thought, what you had to say.

In that, the reporter was right, your love life was far more interesting than your thoughts on quantum mechanics or the military industrial complex. That was what you were known for.

For the most part, you were okay with it. You were willing to pay it all.

That was until you fell in love with Steve Rogers. Suddenly, you weren't willing to give them crumbs. You weren't willing to expose a love that felt this delicate.

You sit on the couch, huddled in your sweatpants, pensively staring at the blank screen.

This time, it was different. This wasn't a show, not a spectacle. It was real, an exposed nerve that the world decided was fair game. You were fair game and it was open season.

Steve settles beside you, draping an arm around your midsection. He kisses your temple, "Tony thinks it's probably best that you lay low for a while."

"Yes, well, my brother is the expert on PR damage control."

It wasn't the same though. You both knew it. Tony had done far worse with far more women. Yet, he would never pay the price you were paying in this very moment.

Steve's arms tighten around you like he's shielding you from the storm, "It's not right. It's not fair that you're being forced to sequester yourself. You're being punished but what exactly was your crime?"

"I fell in love with Steve Rogers, that was my crime." You fell for the man everyone wanted, the man who was in the wrong place at the right time.

"I'm sorry," he whispers against the crown of your head.

"For what?"

"You warned me this would happen."

It was true. You told him exactly what would happen, but even you didn't anticipate exactly how bad things would get.

You'd been with Steve for just under a year. And up until a week ago, only a select few knew. You both agreed to keep it a secret from the public. You felt protective over the love you shared, it was more real than anything else you'd ever had. You wanted to keep it to yourself, out of the hands of people that would tear you both to shreds without a second thought.

Steve felt the same. Though he was more worried about the enemies he made over the years.

It made sense to protect the relationship, to protect yourselves until you were both ready. You wanted to protect him from what you knew was lurking around the corner. Steve was still so new to the 21st century. Dating in the public eye wasn't easy. Dating a Stark wasn't easy. For almost an entire year, you used every publicity trick in the book - and it worked.

But then, you heard it, the whispers, rumors bubbled about your newest future ex-lover.

You only agreed to going public because everyone told you it was time, because they promised that the timing couldn't have worked out better than this. It was better to do this on your own terms than have it leaked.

No one knew how bad it would get.

"Are you sure? There's no going back after this," you whisper, standing in the hallway of your apartment. You could practically hear the cameras flashing outside your apartment. You'd never been this nervous to leave your apartment before. You'd been through the plan a million times. You'd be exposed to the cameras for a matter of seconds. Happy was already waiting with the door to your SUV open, ready for you to jump in. You'd walk outside holding Steve's hand - a sort of silent announcement to the world. "It won't be easy."

"I don't care," Steve promises, kissing the palm of your hand. "I'm tired of hiding. I'm proud to call you mine."

You tenderly stroke his cheek, "And if it blows up in your pretty face?"

He smiles down at you, "You're worth it."

"We'll pay the price, I guess." But deep down, you know. You'll pay the price, he won't.

The cameras had never been that loud before. Even though your announcement went off without a hitch, even though your publicist couldn't have been more pleased, not even they could have predicted how bad things would get.

It seemed like the whole world was calling you that four letter word.

At first, it was mostly online. People were mean, you knew that. You were prepared for nasty comments. Steve's most staunch supporters thought he could do better. People rejoiced in the spectacle your love life turned into. You were a laughing stock all over again. All that you were prepared for. Then some rabid fans leaked your phone number.

You decided that it would be a good time to disconnect anyway.

But it didn't end there. Not even close.

The day after you were expected to make an appearance for a charity you founded. It was just a quick 2 minute speech. And though the event had been throughly vetted, you'd never forget the way your blood ran cold when mid-sentence someone screamed that four letter word over and over again until security dragged them out. You continued until your speech was done, but there was no hiding the way your hands trembled.

From what you heard, the video was still making its rounds online.

You were expected to make an appearance two days after that. An event honoring your father. An event you poured your blood, sweat, and tears into to make sure it was impeccable, an event worthy of honoring your father. The same event you were practically uninvited from.

"Hello?"

"Hey, it's just me. I come in peace," Tony jokes.

"I'm glad," you sigh. "I was worried I was going to have to get another number."

Tony sighs into the phone, "How are you holding up?"

"I've been better."

"I'm afraid I don't come bearing good news."

"What now, Tony?"

"That event you had Friday night, the one for dad?"

You pinch the bridge of your nose. You already knew were this was going. "What about it?"

"They want me to take over for you."

You bitterly scoff, "This week just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it?"

"You say the word and I'll tell them to fuck off."

"No, don't do that. It's for dad."

"You planned this whole thing single-handedly. You deserve to be the one up there." You don't say a word. He's right, you both know it. It doesn't change the situation you've been put in. "You are still going, right? Come on, you have to go."

"They broke into my house, Tony."

"What? Are you okay?"

"Happy just told me," you explain, sparing Tony the most gory details. "The one in L.A. Apparently, it is now covered in spray paint. You wanna guess what they wrote?"

"Where was your security?" Tony demands.

"Here. Trying to keep people off my sidewalk."

"I'm so sorry."

"I just - I don't think it's a good idea. At least until I get more security."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm glad you've got Steve there. At least I know he'll keep you safe."

You almost smile. Tony was never his biggest fan, but you mostly credit that to him being an overprotective big brother. And the situation you'd found yourself in did nothing to win Tony's over good graces, "It's not his fault, Tony."

"It kinda is, but I digress. Listen, we'll figure this out, alright? I'll go streak in front of the Tower if that'll take some heat off of you."

And though you effectively doubled your security in the last two days, nothing would change anyone's mind about you. You were the villain tainting their hero.

You broke down after that call, violently sobbing against Steve's shoulder. He just pulled you in even tighter.

It reminds you of why you're doing all this. So you can be together, out in the open. That in a world of boys, he's a gentleman.

You squeeze his hand, "You're worth it."

"I'm not worth having your reputation torn to shreds."

And maybe they're right about you. Maybe you do get love struck. Maybe his eyes are like the world's strongest liquor, and it went straight to your head. Maybe you do get love sick. Sure, your life has momentarily fallen apart. It's magic, madness, heaven, and sin, all rolled into one. But if they're going to call you a slut, it might be worth it for once. "But what if all I need is you?"

Steve Rogers Masterlist AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

Taglist: @marianita195 @meli18gonzalez @ludicbouquetfromearth @matchat3a @famousbreadcherryblossomsstuff @valoraxx @blue786sworld @buckyandgeraltsupremacy @geminigengar @ansaturn @ecolle @lexhalstead3 @ybflkmj @mediocre-daydreams @shanye1112 @thegirlnextdoorssister @toomanyfanficsbruh @moonlightreader649 @breathtaking-cynthia @mirikusashes @beans-and-toast @niyahcoca @katiechikin @elxvrr @antiheroxsblog @infamouslyclumsy @krissydclayton93 @buckysbarne @deadheadwbedhead @qualitygiantshoepsychic @whitexwolfxx310 @getosprettyboy @matchat3a

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

I still got a few rounds left in me

kinktober, day thirteen

a/n: ...i have such a thing for fighters, it's bad....

warnings: boxer!steve rogers x reader, smut, established relationship, domestic bliss, kissing, foreplay, bathtub sex

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

You felt like a little marshmallow floating atop a warm mug of hot chocolate as you laid there in the tub, staring out at the dark skyline. The melody of soft rain drizzling against the window lulled you even further as your hand lazily played with the bubbles foaming at the surface. 

“Hey,” you suddenly heard, spinning your head around to spot your burly boyfriend gazing at your relaxed visage from the doorway, raindrop-painted gym clothes still hugging his form. 

“Steve,” you gasped, spine straightening, “you’re home! I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you would be asleep already, so I tried to be quiet.”

“In a bit, I just wanted to wash the day away first, you know?” you sighed, “fall back down to earth before I try and fall asleep…” Offering you a gentle nod, he then stepped further into the bathroom, a soft smile still fast on his lips as he began to peel his clothes off. You couldn’t help but giggly ask, “what are you doing?” as the fighter slowly revealed more and more of his rippling physique, his eyes staying locked with yours the entire time. 

“Well, I was gonna take a shower,” his shorts hit the floor mere seconds before he planted his palms on either side of the tub, “but you’re making that bath look so good.” 

As he lowered himself in, your giggle morphed into a laugh as the bubbles began to make a run for it, “you’re gonna flood the entire bathroom!”

“Then it’s a good thing we have something called towels,” fully submerged, he simply leaned in to kiss you. 

Arms wrapping around his broad shoulders, the current scooped you a bit closer, your legs intuitively entangling up and over his thick thighs. As your hands drifted over his skin, your fingers paused and took time to dig into a few of the muscles on his upper back. Parting from the tender peck, you deepened your massage momentarily as you asked, “are you sore?”

With his own arms tangled around you, he murmured, “not really, I didn’t really go too hard today,” before he lifted you further up onto his lap, his broad palm firm on your back so that your chest pressed flush against his, making your soapy tits share their suds. 

It took you approximately two seconds before you noticed the raging hard-on, poking you under the water, “oh my god…” you chuckled, tilting your chin back as you gazed at his smirk, “what are you trying to do, huh, champ?”

His hands slowly raked down your back before they found the curve of your ass, squeezing it in a way that shot directly to your aching clit, “like I said, I didn’t go too hard today, so I still got a few rounds left in me…”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[viixenvi]

𝐑𝐞𝐝 | 18+

Summary: You work at a strip club and Bucky is a regular. Tonight he specifically asks for you in a private room. You never thought he'd love the color red on you so much.

Characters: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Warnings: A lot of smut, slight Dom!Bucky, praise kink, blowjob, handjob, teasing, edging

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈

A/N: This is my first time posting smut on here so pls forgive me if it's not the best.

It was a slow night. You considered not coming in but your co-worker Tiffany begged you to come in so the two of you could get drinks at the end of shift.

"It's the slowest night ever," Tiffany whines, throwing her head back and holding up the twenty dollars she had just counted. Her bottom lip popped out slightly and she pouted.

"You wanted to work tonight," you shrug, pulling your hair out of the ponytail it was just in. It falls down your shoulders and the curls sit nicely on your back.

"I forgot Thursdays are always bad." She gets up and puts the money in her bag. She shuffles to the lockers and kicks the bottom of hers, causing it to open. That makes you laugh as you fix your lipstick that had smudged from my stage routine earlier.

You stop to look at yourself in the mirror. The red lace lingerie bra you are wearing holds up your boobs amazingly. The matching thong makes it all come together. All of it is covered by a red sheer mini-dress. You push the bra up and fix the straps.

"Y/n you got the second private room," one of the new girls informs you. You give her a smile and nod, letting her know you acknowledged what she said. Her heels click against the floor as she walks away. You feel Tiffany's hand on your shoulder as she leans into you to fix her heel.

"You are about to get so much money," she giggles, the alcohol on her breath was more prominent now. She wasn't supposed to drink on the clock but she didn't care at all.

Once she takes her hand off you, you walk out the door and down the hall to the main floor. The new girls are surrounding the younger men in suits. They don't understand that the old guys are where the real money is. You smile to yourself and walk to the bar.

"Who do I have tonight?" you ask the bartender, and she smugly smiles at you.

"Your favorite broody regular," she jokes. You groan. The Winter Soldier. He always just sits there and watches the girls, never interacting with them or throwing money. You rub your head and prepare yourself for the hour-long dullness that will definitely be happening.

"Cheer up, at least he paid for the room," she tries to help but it just makes you not want to go anymore. If it was a regular that you disliked but actually got money from then you'd be happier to do this. But he just sits there and drinks while looking like he hates everything and everyone. You collect yourself and turn towards the room.

The worst that can happen is you sitting next to him for the next hour doing nothing.

The music is blasting in the rooms, You know your favorite song is on next so at least you have something to look forward to. You giggle to yourself and swing open the door. Your eyes meet with his, they are cold and unwelcoming like always.

"Hi, Mr. Barnes, what would you like tonight?" You ask, not knowing his preference since this is his first time straying from his usual routine and getting a room.

"Call me sir," He says, his voice lacking emotion. To you, he's just cold. You don't know how he feels when you walk into the room. How he feels watching you dance.

How much his heart is racing right now while he looks at you in that red mini-dress.

"Yes sir," You oblige, his lip twitches for just a split second, but you notice it. He sips his beer and clenches his jaw. His eyes glide down your body, every inch of it being burned into his brain. He wanted his hands to roam your body instead. Touching every part of your body.

The song you love finally comes on, you smile and he notices your sudden mood change. "I love this song!" you say to him. He nods, taking in the new information.

"Dance for me Doll," he tells you, his voice slightly changed. His eyes were now fixated on your face looking from your eyes to your lips. You start dancing, dragging your hand across various parts of your body.

Bucky re-adjusts his seat on the big couch. His hands fell over his crotch and covered it slightly. He can't keep his eyes off of you. He's been watching you since he started coming here.

It started as nothing but he soon started to come in regularly for you, of course you didn't know this. He tried so hard to keep cool when he would see you. You consumed his thoughts all the time. He hated it.

He doesn't like that you can so easily exhaust his thoughts when he imagines all the ways he can ruin you. Your hair falls in front of your chest. The same hair he thinks about pulling while he fucks you.

Bucky soon realizes his cock is starting to get hard underneath his jeans. The bulge is now very noticeable to you. You stop to stare for a moment. You've never seen him have any reaction to any of the girls dancing.

"Fuck," Bucky mutters under his breath. You lock eyes with him, and you now notice the lust in his. He's trying so hard to hold back but the way your dress has hiked up and your ass is in full view makes his cock throb even more.

"Sir?" You say, he groans in response. His eyes are closed now, hand over his bulge. You get on your knees and lean on his legs, your hands on his thighs.

"Do you need help with that?" His eyes open and he looks at you. You look at him with an innocent face. He knows what you are doing and he wants it so bad.

His hand reaches out and his thumb rubs your cheek. You smile up at him and he licks his bottom lip before pulling it in with his top teeth and letting it go.

"Fuck, I just can't control myself around you Doll," He admits. You are slightly surprised. The Winter Soldier can't control himself around you?

"Sir?"

"Yes, doll?"

"Let me help you," You say as you reach for the zipper on his jeans. You unzip it, your eyes still locked with his. You pull his boxers open and feel his cock in your hand. Your eyes finally leave him and widen at the sight of it. It's huge. He laughs at your expression and pulls your hair up into his vibranium arm's hand.

You run your thumb along his shaft, stopping at the tip and rubbing it with the pad of your thumb. He groans and pulls your hair. You smirk and do it again.

He pulls your hair again and directs your mouth to his tip. "Suck." That's all you need to hear before you push your head all the way down. Your throat tightens around his cock. He moans and throws his head back, gripping your hair tighter.

"You are doing so good," he breathes out. Your hands grip onto his thighs as you gag on his dick. His legs are slightly shaking already.

"Going to cum already?" You tease him. He looks down at you, pulling your hair back and leaning his face inches away from yours.

"I've been watching you all night. If I had my way, I'd fuck you right here right now," He whispers to you. This makes you blush, you are already so wet and this makes it worse. Your stomach is doing flips.

"So why don't you?" he smiles and caresses your face with his other hand.

"Because you're too pretty to fuck here. I'd rather take you back to my place where we can have some real fun. I can show you how I have sex." His lips are just inches away from yours. You can feel his breath graze them.

You can't take it anymore, your lips crash into him and he pulls you closer. He bites your bottom lip, licking right over it after. You moan into the kiss causing him to move his vibranium hand to the bottom of your dress, pulling it up.

He breaks the kiss, pulling the dress over your head. "Take those panties off and touch yourself," he leans back, disregarding your dress somewhere on the floor.

"Yes sir," You get up and sit on the table in front of him, slowly pulling your panties off. Unlike the dress, it's thrown at him and he happily takes it.

Your hands glide down from your chest to your stomach and finally to your clit. He wraps his hand around his cock, watching you with an intense lust in his eyes.

You feel the excitement, you have never done this before. Yes, you masturbated in private, but in front of someone is way different. The familiar feeling of pleasure courses through you as your fingers rub your clit in a circular motion.

Bucky's hand is mimicking your actions from earlier. Moving up and down his shaft. He moans and closes his eyes but doesn't stay like that for long. He can't look away from you. You are a gorgeous sight.

Your moans only make him go faster, which in return makes you go faster. The music in the rooms muffles the sounds you both make, so no one knows what you two are doing.

"Shit, I'm so close," Bucky whispers. You whine when he pulls your hand away and kisses you. The pleasure you were having was something you were now craving. You wanted to touch yourself so badly.

"Be a good girl and don't touch yourself." You listen to Bucky. Even though you are beyond horny. He continues to touch himself, wrapping the panties around his cock.

You whine and grind against his leg for some friction. If you can't touch yourself then you can use him too. He chuckles at your actions. Smirking at how needy you now are.

"Fuck!" He moans out, finally releasing the cum he was holding in. You are too focused on your grinding to realize what just happened, so Bucky helps with that by pulling you off him and back onto the floor.

"Why did you do that?" You squirm. He pulls your hair back again and kisses you, this time more softly.

"Because you are not allowed to cum till I say so," His thumb caresses your cheek again, you lean into his touch but he pulls away. The panties he came on are in his hands. He looks at them then back at you.

"Wear them." He tosses them into your hands. You pull them on and look back at him, expecting more orders. He stands up and zips his jeans, this causes you to stand up too.

His hands reach down, grabbing a handful of your ass before smaking it hard. "God, I love the color red."

You lean in for a kiss, which he gives you. "Can I meet you after my shift?" You ask, a little desperate but it doesn't bother you now.

"I'll be waiting for you on my bike, wear a little more clothes," He teases before walking out of the room

[sweetsbfreex]

drunk and obsessed

Summary: a little something about a drunk steve. in the mafia steve universe

Pairing: drunk!mafia! steve rogers x reader

Warning: none rlly

-

“Baby, baby,” you giggle, a bit tipsy, as you try your hardest to fit the key into the door's lock. “I can’t open the door with you all over me.”

You laugh once more when Steve begins kissing your neck once again. His trimmed beard tickles your neck. 

On the other hand, Steve had a bit too much to drink. And that's all your doing. 

You know he feels he can never have too much to drink at these events, especially with you there. The events are filled with some of the most inimical people worldwide. So he always wants to be on his A-game for you. But that’s what body guards are for, you had argued. Pushing for him to have the time of his life with some of his friends.

Now here he was: drunk and his body cradling yours, as the two of you struggle to get in the house. 

“I just love you, baby,” his words slur as he kisses your cheek. 

“I love you too,” You tell him, so close to getting the fucking key to fit. 

“I can’t wait to get you inside,” his voice rich and husky as he seals his promise. 

“Baby, I don’t even think you could get it up right now.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Steve removes himself as your shell, both arms up in defense while he takes a few steps back.  

When your senses finally catch up that he’s no longer hovering over you. You quickly turn, just stopping him before he tumbles down the step. 

You hold both his hands, then let one go to grab the side of this face, “Honey, your drunk off your ass right now—“

“I am not! You just called my game weak,”

“That’s not what I said, but I need you to stand silently so I can open the door, okay?”

“Okay, pretty” he answers, landing a soft peck on your lips.

You smile as you finally open the door, reaching behind you to clasp Steve’s hand so you can pull him in. 

You close the door behind him, toeing your shoes off, giggling when he has trouble with his. But five ‘fucks’ later, he finally gets it done. 

“Woooo!!” Steve shoots his hand up in a v, as if his team just won the super bowl. 

You’re quick to drop his arms back down to his sides, “Shhh, baby. You’re screaming.”

“I am?! I’m sorry,” his hands cup your cheeks as he pulls you for yet another kiss. 

“Honey,” you laugh into his sloppy kiss. “Let’s go to bed, hm? And get some water into you.”

“I don’t wanna do bed,” he whines. “I wanna do you,” he smirks, moving one hand to grip your hip.

“Tomorrow, okay? I’m really tired.” You feign a dramatic yawn. 

“You are? Okay, that’s okay, okay?” he kisses your nose this time. 

Drunk sex isn’t something that hasn’t been checked off your and Steve’s list. But Steve is sloshed and can barely walk straight, so sex would not be on the menu for tonight. 

“Let’s head up.” You wrap his arm over your shoulder, walking up the steps carefully. 

-

He’s sitting at the end of the bed, his coat beside him, as you unbutton his dress shirt. You would’ve let him do it himself, but he was struggling with his lack of hand-eye coordination. Playfully slapping your hand every time your hands got close to his shirt. Giggling and joking that there would be no sexy times. That was until he had made you oath you’d keep your hands innocent. 

Ever your affectionate, drunk lover. 

“Are you sure you feel alright? Don't need to throw up or anything?” You ask Steve once again. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he tells you then takes another swig of water.

It only takes ten minutes until he’s in his sweatpants, with no boxers (under his request). You’re changed and ready for bed, tired out from an eventful day. Steve’s favorite movie playing in the background. 

Steve cuddles up close, half his brawny body on yours, his leg splayed over yours, and his head nestled on your chest. 

Your fingers run through his hair soothingly. 

“Y/n?”

You hum a response.

“Thank you for taking care of me, I love you too,” 

“I love you too.” you laugh breathily at his mistake. 

A comfortable pause ensues. 

“Y/n?” His hand shimmies under your t-shirt, to caress your soft skin. 

“Yes, honey,” you can’t help but laugh at the way he calls for your attention. You don’t think you’ve heard your actual name from his mouth so consistently. 

“I think I wanna— I know I want to start trying soon. I wanna be a dad, a good dad.”

Your hand stills.

“What?” Your voice is quiet and relayed with shock. Your heart no longer in your chest. 

He wants to try. The two of you tied the knot two months ago. However, talk of whether you guys wanted to start a family or not was shut down by Steve every time. You never wanted to push, but you also wanted to know what to expect. 

Either way, He was adamant that he wasn’t ready. There was no way he could raise a baby to be half a decent human being with his trauma lingering in the shadows, among other things

He sits up abruptly, “I know, I know. I’m not sober, but I’m not lying either. I’m ready, honey… if you are.” He grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles.

“Okay,” you smile, “If you remember, we’ll continue this conversation tomorrow?”

“Okay.” He kisses your cheek before cuddling into you once again. “I wanna be the perfect dad, y/n. The best.”

“You will be.” 

You tell him sweetly, your eyes stinging as you run your fingers through his hair once more. 

-

a/n: srry it's been so long, college keeps me busy 24/7! here's this as i try and finish binky fairy pt. 2

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[universitypenguin]

Has Ari and duchess made their baby yet? 🥹

Yes!

It took several months this time, but their baby is due in November.

Ari likes to talk to the growing bump, and rub his hands over her belly. He’s also claimed sleeping in bed with her, since he likes to feel it kick at night. Andy is irritated by the lack of cuddling he’s getting at the moment, but Steve understands. He was the same way when she was pregnant with Liam. It’s the father’s duty to give all the back rubs when it’s his fault you’re carrying the extra weight.

For the record, Ari gives amazing back rubs. Steve has been a dream this time around. You’d worried about tension a little bit, since Charlotte’s pregnancy had caused so much stress in your family. But Andy was fairly low key in his reaction and Steve was delighted with the news.

Andy would always have a sense of possessiveness that his brothers didn’t share. One part was a sense of being the replacement for Steve, the eldest who’d been too sick to take over the mafia. He knew that he existed because the family had needed an heir, and had grown up with the anxiety of being deemed not good enough. Steve being sent away to live with Aunt Sarah in New York was always a stressor in his mind from the moment he’d understood what had happened. Even Ari, the spare to the heir had been somewhat of a rival to him all his life.

The way their father had parented Andy didn’t help matters. It created a sense of lack, of threat that you’d enlisted Steve’s help in working on. Ari was informed of the plot and he’d been helpful, but unsure it would work. Getting Andy into therapy was a tough challenge, even when he was on an even keel. So, you’d decided to provoke him.

You slept in Ari’s bed and made it a point to seek out his comfort first. Andy tolerated some of the displacement with grace, but snarled openly when you’d cuddled with Steve over him during Friday’s movie night. He stalked into your bath later that night, shut the door, and stripped. Without a word, you scooted forward and let him climb into the oversized tub and serve as your back rest.

Purring, you tilted your head back and nuzzled at his beard.

“This is nice.”

“Yeah? We should do it more often, Duchess.”

“We cuddle.”

“Not recently.”

Andy tucked his arms under your breasts and tightened his hold. You moaned at the relief of their weight being lifted.

“I wasn’t involved as much as I should have been with your first pregnancy. And then Steve was downright rude about keeping you to himself when you were expecting Liam. This time, it’s you boxing me out of caring for you. I want to give you back rubs and run your bath.”

You turned, carefully, since your advancing pregnancy was creating a weight distribution that was rather off center.

“This isn’t just about you being possessive of me?”

“I’ll always be possessive of you. I had you first. You were mine before you were theirs, too.”

“Do you miss that?”

Andy sighed.

“No. And also, yes. I wish I could be with you in public the way Steve and Ari can. Just going out to dinner with you alone means we have to drive an hour out of town, so I won’t be recognized. I sometimes hate that their relationships with you have less… perimeters than I’m allowed.”

“I think you should go to therapy.”

“With who? I can’t just confess my crimes to a psychiatrist and expect to keep my position. My own men would kill me.”

You frowned. “We need to get you out of the mafia. It’s not good for you.”

Andy grunted, but didn’t reply.

“I’m not joking. As a matter of fact, I’m deadly serious.”

“I’ll talk to the boys. But no promises.”

You let Andy help you out of the bath, towel you dry, and follow you to Ari’s bed. He climbed in and snuggled up against your back.

“How would you leave the mafia?”

You had to ask, since the question was burning in your mind.

Andy hesitated.

“The plan isn’t fully formed yet. But the thing is, the men love Bucky. They’ve even started asking if he has any Irish blood in him.”

You snorted. “I take it he didn’t mention that he’s almost full blooded English?”

“He likes his face in the arrangement it currently is, so no.”

“If he were Irish, they might accept him as their boss.”

Andy grunted. “Even without that, it’s possible. Steve and Ari have been working on an escape plan. But it’s not fully formed. Leaving would be risky, Duchess.”

“I think you have to. You’re not coping with the limits as well as you used to.”

“Charlotte notices that I don’t hold hands with you in public. She asked me last month if I don’t love you anymore.”

“What?!”

“It’s confusing when you’re five. Our arrangement has a lot of nuances to process. I assured her that Mommy is the only woman I’ve ever loved. And that I always would, no matter what happens.”

You blew out a breath. “Thank you.”

Andy squeezed you gently.

“I told her the truth.”

“I love you too. So much. I don’t mean to push but I know you’re unhappy and I can’t stand it.”

“Do you want a fourth one with me?”

Andy’s hand slid down to the swell of your bump, which was growing more prominent every day.

“Yes, absolutely.”

“You’re sure? Because I don’t know how to answer some of Charlotte’s questions. If I can’t be the kind of father she deserves, how can I expect the next one to cope?”

You laced your fingers with his and rubbed his fingers. His breathing was quick, the heartbeat in his chest too rapid. But his voice was controlled - with just a hint of the fear you sensed was behind the composed mask.

“Andy. No little girl in the world has a better father than Charlotte. Not a single one. I’m completely sure of that, because the only one she has is you. No one else can be her Daddy. You’re irreplaceable to that little girl and you always will be. If you love her and you treat her with love… it’ll cover a lot of flaws and shortcomings. Everyone has them. But if you make her feel loved, she’ll never remember that you didn’t have all the answers. She’ll remember that you loved her.”

Andy’s hand shook in yours, a tremor of emotion. You expected the withdrawal and didn’t hold it against him when he suddenly disentangled himself from you. He would need space to process. Emotional distress wasn’t a spectacle Andy permitted anyone to witness. Not even you. But he’d talk to you later, once he’d settled down. He kissed your cheek and left the room.

You waited for his steps to fade away, then rolled. It took a lot to get out of bed at your current size. Ari’s fluffy terry cloth robe was your current favorite because it still fit. Waddling, you made your way through the living room to the patio. Steve and Ari were drinking beer and playing poker with a stack of spare change serving as chips.

They looked startled when you stepped outside.

“Doll, shouldn’t you be in bed? You’re exhausted.”

“I caught a second wind,” you said, breezily.

Ari cocked his head. “Is that my robe? Again?”

“Want me to take it off?”

He frowned and glanced towards the neighbors window.

“I didn’t think so.”

You settled in the chair next to Steve and looked between the men. They were watching you warily.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Ari asked.

“Was no one going to tell me you were planning on getting Andy out of the mob? I sometimes hate being a third wheel in this household.”

Ari held up his hands. “It’s not a real plan. We were just spit balling ideas. Bucky would be a great replacement and with a strong successor. Andy disappearing, or if we staged his death, it wouldn’t be such a disruption. Business as usual in the mob is always a good thing for the community.”

“We don’t want other people to get hurt, that’s all,” Steve said.

You nodded. “Okay. I like where we’re at on this. However, the time table needs to move up on extracting Andy from the family business.”

Ari slanted an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Because I want another baby.”

His gaze dropped to your stomach. “You’ll have one in four months.”

“Not this one, another one.”

Ari blinked, then grinned.

Steve chuckled. “Why don’t you focus on getting this one across the finish line? Then we’ll talk.”

“Not you, idiot. Andy wants a pregnancy of his own to enjoy. I want that, too. But for me to enjoy it, I need you and Ari to get Andy out of the mafia.”

Their brows raised in shock as the realized how serious you were. You stood up and belted Ari’s robe tighter.

“I’d get started planning now, because you only have about six to eight months to come up with something. I’m going to need Andy free and unstressed for the final baby.”

“Doll, are you serious?!”

“Completely.”

Ari’s jaw clenched. “You can’t be worrying about Andy while you’re in your third trimester! You’ll get sick again. Honey, stress while you’re pregnant doesn’t affect you well at all.”

You shrugged. “That’s true. But I won’t be stressing about it. I’ll focus on growing our baby, the kids, getting pampered, and my work. You two can figure out how to free Andy.”

Turning around you headed back for the air conditioning. July’s oven like temperatures weren’t your speed with this extra weight piled on.

“Six to eight months gentlemen. Make it happen!”

You glanced back and grinned at Ari’s disbelieving expression. Steve smirked in return and lifted his beer to you in a salute.

Oh, yeah. You’d played your cards just right.

[th3-c0rps3-r0gu3]

*y/n meeting captain America for the first time.*

Natasha: y/n meet Steve. Steve meet my girlfriend y/n.

Steve: nice to meet you.

Y/n: your the man with the giant metal frisbee!

Steve: what?

Natasha: detka he's steve.

Y/n: the man with the giant metal frisbee 😃

Steve:

Natasha: *sighs*

[imtryingbuck]

Too Late.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Summary: Y/n’s Steves girlfriend and she’s been taken by Hydra, will he get to her in time? Will she want to go with him if he does?

Word count: 2,237

Warnings: angst. cheating. nat and steve are terrible people. pregnancy. miscarriage. tiny mention of being sick. swearing. ending is terrible sorry.

A/N: women aren’t failures or less of a woman if they have miscarriages, unfortunately and sadly it’s a natural thing.

Part 2

Masterlist

Why he kept doing it was beyond him.

The first time it happened both swore that it was a mistake, second time was a mistake too. The third time was to blow off steam from a rough mission. The fourth time, a mistake.

Now they’ve lost count of how many mistakes there’s been.

They know there’s been too many “this is the last time” before they end up in the same position.

Even though he knew what he was doing was wrong he just couldn’t stop.

When he woke that morning he knew he had fucked up. In the whole time that they’d been fucking he never fell asleep, he always headed home afterwards. He never once woke up with her in his arms. This was intimate, something that they didn’t do. It was just sex. They barely kissed, it was rough, he barely touched her other than her hips or his hand on her head as he pushed her face further into the pillow, further away from his mind - from his guilt.

Finding his phone he jumped up out of the bed his heart in his throat at the 22 missed calls and the one text message. He made her have a number that she would send to him for emergencies. For when she wasn’t or felt safe.

He received the number 4 in-between the many missed calls.

“Shit, baby pick up.” He chanted as he picked his clothes up off the floor and shoving them on in a hurry.

“St-Steve?” A woman’s voice came from the bed.

“Get up. Somethings wrong with Y/n”

“Shit”

Natasha took the sheet to cover herself as she rose from the bed, her too putting her clothes back on in a hurry.

Steve ran out of the room finding the team in the kitchen, Natasha soon following. “H-has Y/n called any of you? Somethings wrong”

Receiving a chorus of no’s his heart plummeted in to the depth of his stomach. Not giving any thought to it he took off running to the garage.

Speeding through the busy streets Steve kept trying to ring Y/n, heart rate going through the roof every time he heard her voicemail. Not even parking the car he jumped out and ran up to their apartment, Bucky and Sam quick on his heels.

“No no no no no” the door was open halfway.

“Y/n? Baby, I’m home…” he tried, Bucky and Sam swore they never heard Steve’s voice sound so small.

Taking small steps into the apartment he has shared with his girlfriend for the past three years he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

The grey couch was tipped on its side, cushions once nearly placed on said couch now lay on the floor. Pieces of glass from the photo frames they had hung up, littered the ground. Trinkets and ornaments belonging to Y/n, that took her ages to get a nice collection going was broken on the floor amongst the mess.

But that’s not what caused him to loose his breath, no, it was the small puddle of blood in the middle of their living room, droplets leading to where he stood and behind him.

Bucky made his way around the wall that was Steve and did a sweep of the apartment in signs of his best friends girlfriend. Sam took off in the direction of where Bucky was calling his name. Five minutes later they both emerged from the bedroom, Bucky holding two things in his hands.

“S-Steve…”

“What are they?”

“A phone…and um, a…a pregnancy test.” Bucky stuttered out, his heart pounding violently.

“W-what does the test say?” Nat questioned quietly from behind Steve as she stood with the rest of the Avengers.

“It-its positive”

No one moved as Steve hunched over and puked up.

Just as he was about to stand the phone started ringing. Bucky answered and put it on loud speaker.

“You’ve been a naughty boy Steven so we took your girlfriend. You have less then… ten hours to find her, hopefully she won’t be too mad at you. Hail Hydra” the voice on the other end of the phone chuckled darkly before hanging up.

“What the fuck is going on?” Tony demanded.

“I-I don’t know, we need to find her. I can’t lose her”

“We’ll find her don’t worry” Nat says as she put a comforting hand on his arm, Steve looked at her hand in disgust and yanked his arm away as if she had burned him.

“Don’t. Ever. Touch. Me. Again.” Steve growled in her ear quietly, even Bucky didn’t hear.

Her head throbbed, her whole body ached and was sore when she finally came to.

“Ah you’re awake, finally. I’m Conrad and I’ll be here to help you through this very tough time”

“W-where am I?”

“With Hydra darling. Believe it or not but you’re safe, I promise”

“Really? You pricks attacked me and you want me to believe you when you say I’m safe?” She chuckled with a head shake.

“I know, that wasn’t suppose to happen but we didn’t realise that one of Captain Americas girlfriends was so feisty, well we knew one was but not you” he says.

“W-what are you talking about?”

“Oh didn’t you know? Weird. Steve has another girlfriend. You know her, Natasha also known as the black widow.”

Her heart cracked but she didn’t believe him, he was a member of Hydra for Christ sake. “Your lying”

“Hold on. Matthews turn the screen on and let’s show our guest where her hero is.”

The bright light from the tv screen she hadn’t even noticed was there, nearly blinded her. Conrad told Matthews to press play, her soul felt like it had died.

There was her boyfriend on six years thrusting in and out of her best friend.

“T-t-turn it o-off”

“No. Look in the right corner where his jeans are, open your eyes and do it Y/n.”

Complying with his order her eyes slowly peeled open and look where he had told her. There on the floor was the jeans she had brought him when he needed some new ones, every few minutes there was a flash.

“Want to know what that is? It’s you, you was ringing him when we came knocking. You was running and hiding ringing for him whilst he was fucking another woman. Matthews fast forward to the best part”

The footage fast forwarded and she saw Steve sleeping and Natasha climbing out of the bed, going to his jeans and picked up his phone she saw all the missed calls but instead of doing anything she put the phone down on the bedside table and climbed back into the bed.

“She’s not very nice is she? She knew you needed him but she didn’t care, that’s not a good friend is it?” Conrad mocked with a chuckle. “D-do you want a drink of water?”

The change in his tone confused her, one minute he was mocking her then in the next he sounded worried.

“H-here, take slow sips. It’s just water, look I’ll take a sip.” He says “see, it’s okay I promise.”

“W-why are you doing this?”

“I’m helping you. I’m not really the bad guy in this Y/n-“

“Why?”

Just as Conrad was about to respond Matthews ran into the room “they’ve arrived”.

“Ah show time”.

“Where is she?” Steve demanded clutching his shield tighter.

“She’s here, didn’t think you’d find us so soon Cap.” Conrad says from where he was stood, a grin on his lips.

“Where is she?” He repeated.

“Bring her in, nicely I don’t want any more harm coming to her”

The team watch as the door comes open from the left side of the room and Y/n came through it with two Hydra agents by her side.

“Doll-“

“How long.” It wasn’t a question but more of a demand.

“What are you talking about?” Steve questions.

Instead of answering him she turned to the others “did you guys know?”

“Know what?” Tony asks.

“Did you know that Steven was fucking Natasha?”

Both Steve and Nat flinch as she calls them by their full names. Natasha slowly backed up as the team looked at the pair.

“D-Doll whatever they’ve told you is a lie”

“I saw it with my own two eyes. How long”

“Doll-“

“A year.” 

Steve and Natasha spoke at the same time.

“A…year?”

“It was an accident Y/n/n-“

“Don’t call me that Widow. A year isn’t an accident, did the rest of you know?”

All shook their heads at her question.

“Y/n please, it was a mistake I swear! She means nothing to me.”

Before she could respond Natasha spoke up “I meant nothing to you?”

“No. Please Y/n let’s go home, your pregnant baby”

“Not anymore I’m not. I was two months ago but I lost it, I remember ringing you all night begging you to come home but you never answered a single phone call. Probably with her.” She quickly wiped the fallen tear from her eye as she remembers that night.

The night where her happiness had left her all alone on the bathroom floor, panic raising by the second. Ringing her happiness’s father just for him not to answer, blood flowing down her legs and hands that shook something fierce. She begged and begged for them to come back, promising that she’d do better and be the best mum she could possibly be.

Sadly her happiness had gone away.

Numbly she cleaned up the evidence of her failure, placed the baby onesie she had brought as a present to tell Steve that he was going to be a dad - back in the box it came in, she put the positive pregnancy test in the box along with the sonogram and then neatly placed them in another box, pushing it right to the back of her side of the wardrobe.

Over the next two months whenever she was alone she would take the box out and talk to the sonogram, telling the tiny bean that she loved them. She knew she should of told Steve but she had no idea how to bring the conversation up, she couldn’t bare to see his face light up when she said she was pregnant just to see it fade away when she told him that she had failed as a woman and that it was no longer with them.

To her she was protecting him by keeping it away from him.

“But it doesn’t matter now does it? You guys can fuck off now.”

“No no Y/n please we can figure this out-“

“No. There’s no figuring anything out. You betrayed me, you! I didn’t do anything wrong! You don’t love me no more? Break up with me! You wanted to get your dick wet by some bitch that wasn’t me? Break up with me!” Her voice got louder as she went on stepping further towards him, standing in front of him she felt sick at the devastating look in his eyes.

“I asked Conrad to kill me” she smile sadly at him “you guys need to go now-“

“Y/n baby please I’m sorry, I can be bet-“

“Don’t humiliate me even more please, I’ve wanted this for a while now so please just leave”

Steve opens his mouth but shuts it quickly when the agents of Hydra points their guns at him and his team.

Y/n walks back over to Conrad who leads her through the door they came through. The last thing the Avengers hear is the deafening bang they were all familiar with.

In the two years that had passed since he lost Y/n, Steve stayed far away from Natasha. 

The team had only recently begun talking to the pair again, they had lost a friend and to them it was Natasha’s and Steve’s fault.

Steve missed Y/n more than anything, sleep didn’t come easy to him not now not when the memories of his betrayal was always there as a constant reminder. Not when all he remembers is the pure devastation look in her eyes or how her hand glazed over her stomach when she spoke about their baby that they lost - a baby that he did not know anything about.

He had no one to blame other than himself for every time he hears a gunshot he’s transported back to that day he lost everything. Lost his world.

On the other side of the world in a woodland area away from the civilised society sat a lonely small farmhouse, surrounded by a large fence to keep the farm animals inside.

Y/n emerged from the wooden door with a small smile on her face, dressed in her dark blue dungarees that wore a deep green stain on the knees.

She didn’t lie when she said she had asked Conrad to kill her and he had agreed, when they went into the hallway she had fully prepared herself for the bullet to come, to end her life instead the bullet zoomed past her head and lodged itself in the wall.

“I’m not going to kill you Y/n, I-I want to help you leave but you need to stay quiet okay”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not much of a bastard, come on we don’t have long”

Now in the two years since she had left she finally felt at peace, she found herself.

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

[the-goddess-of-mischief-writing]

Phantom pain

Summary; Price said he would be back before Christmas, but you didn't think it would be like this.

Pairing: Cpt. John Price x reader (sunshine!universe)

Rating: Mature

CHAPTER NO/ONESHOT: Onehsot 

Word; 9k

Warnings; angst, injury, copious amount of fluff

Author; @the-goddess-of-mischief-writing​

A/N: Surprise update everyone! I've been feeling so festive this year, there's so much snow and everything's just so cosy, so this chapter comes as a little hurt to feel-good thing on the third of advent. If you don't celebrate Christmas or don't like the festive period, I simply hope that you have a great December nonetheless🥰

SUNSHINE UNIVERSE MASTERLIST

It had been a slow morning. Despite snow greeting you on the ground and in the air, you'd felt warm huddled in your jacket and the thought of cosying into one of the plush armchairs at your coffee shop. It had been serene; not many ventured outside in this weather. Yet, you'd smiled behind the lapel of your jacket when something other than cloudy skies and rain doused everything in a hue of grey.

You'd been in such a good mood that when you returned home with some pastries to go, saffron and caramel the main components in the golden danishes and tarts, you started a deep cleaning of your flat.

With the least Christmasy of Christmas songs playing from your speakers, you put up some festive lights, the warm glow softening every hard edge.

Although, while you're balancing on your stool, using some double-sided sticky tape to fasten a string of light behind your curtains, the music from your speakers is cut off by your phone ringing. You didn't think twice about heading to your phone, believing it was Marissa or one of your other friends. Yet, you stall when spotting the caller I.D. lighting up your screen.

Two weeks. John said his deployment would last two weeks. Of course, you would've been happy if he returned home earlier on any other occasion. But something made your stomach twist and your brows furrow when John now was calling less than a week and a half after he left.

"John?" You ask tentatively after answering the call and putting it on speaker.

"Sorry, lass, probably not the John ya wanted". Your heart fucking drops, your face falling in record time when it's a Scottish accent and not the easily recognisable British variant greeting you.

"J-Johnny?" Your voice breaks halfway through, unable not to. Even tears managed to well in the short seconds you realise what this call might be.

"Hey, easy, Price is alive and kickin'-"

"Oh god", you choke out the words, dropping to the couch behind you as you'd remained standing since you answered, for some reason. The tears that collected in the corner of your eyes trail down your cheeks upon your eyes shutting, more so from the sudden burst of relief than the fear that brought them.

"Fuck, you scared me, Johnny".

"Should've started with that", he excuses with a slight, strained chuckle before he clears his throat. "But... still callin' for a reason".

"Yeah, gathered that much", you return, wiping away your tears with your shirt sleeve.

"Captain got downed durin' the mission, nasty shot in the shoulder".

"What?" Your motion stills when you register what Johnny said, gaze falling to stare at the call-time ticking away tauntingly slow.

"Last time I saw him, he was in the infirmary and had just returned from a quick surgery".

"But is he alright?" You bring your phone closer to your face as if it somehow would make Johnny feel how you pressed for an answer.

"Huffin' and groanin' 'bout it but fine otherwise. He wanted me to call ya, knowin' the pain-meds he was forced to take wouldn't help him give good 'nough explanation of things".

"Okay, okay", you mumble. He's alive. Hurt but alive.

"He'll need to stay a while. But ya can come to see him if ya want".

"I can?"

"'Course, we'll be able to get ya a visitin' pass".

"Oh, thank you, Johnny", you breathe out.

"Nothin' to thank, lass. Can't stand the Captain's grousin' anymore". You chuckle half-heartedly at that. "I'll send you the details 'bout the visit and some information that's needed".

"Yes, yes, absolutely". You nodded along even if the Scot couldn't see the motion. "Send it over, and I'll fill out whatever's needed".

You don't know how much of a shit show things had turned into for them to return home early. Although, it must have been bad if not only John didn't go unharmed from it, but even Johnny seemed to have seen better days. 

It was hard not to notice his roughened-up look when he met you by the army base's outer perimeter about two hours later. There were a few cuts and bruises littering his face, and even though the Scot didn't hesitate to bring you into a comforting hug as you jumped out of your car, you noted the slight wince he waved off as a 'bruised everything'.

Even if you'd been shaken after ending the call with Johnny, you attempted to calm down, telling yourself 'John's fine' before leaving your flat. Yet, those nerves flared right up when you entered the small visitors' centre beside the road. Thankfully, the very man who'd given you the news of John seemed to notice that the military surroundings were vastly unfamiliar and unnerving for someone not used to them, especially considering why you were here.

Johnny kept close the entire time, helping you with the needed papers for the visitor's pass by pointing to where your signature was required, even if he talked familiarly with the armed guards all the while.

You took deep breaths to steady yourself numerous times, feeling the Scot's attention fall on you each time he noted the same unease he previously only caught over the phone. You knew you weren't succeeding in hiding your nerves. Nevertheless, between being in a strongly off-limits zone for usual civilians and the fact you wouldn't be here if John wasn't in a hospital bed, you don't think Johnny or any of the other soldiers blamed you for it.

When everything was finally signed and read through, Johnny scribbled his signature on the dotted line beside yours on the last page.

With the I.D. around your neck, you exited the smaller building and jumped into your car again, only now the Scot hitched a ride back with you.

Your fingers rapped against the steering wheel once you were let through the gates and rolled forwards, teeth worrying your lower lip, eyes trained on the main compound further ahead.

"Lass", your eyes had swiftly adverted to Johnny, noticing his eyes shifting to your hands. You stopped with a tight lipped smile, your gaze having adverted forward again. "Price is roughened up but fine. He's been through much worse".

"I know", you sighed, having to hold yourself from going back to biting your lip. You'd seen John's scars, some on worryingly critical places on his abdomen. "But I haven't been there to see that...", you mumbled, eyes fixed on the parking lot ahead.

You and Soap didn't share much chatter as you parked, nor more than needed as he guided you through the building closest to the parking lot. However, he offered a reassuring squeeze of your shoulder when he saw you hesitate in the elevator upon reaching the medical wing. 

A327. That was the room John apparently was in. 

You looked at each door you passed, waiting for the right one. 

324. 325. 326. 

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you finally reached 327.

With hands intertwining hands, fingers wringing each other, you merely stand rooted before the door. All of a sudden hesitant to step inside.

"He's gonna be fine, lass". Johnny's comment makes you look up at him. A gentler smile than usual meets you, causing you to release the breath you didn't know you held as you nod. "Let's get ya to meet him". The Scot gives you an encouraging smile as he opens the door, motioning for you to enter.

John's already facing your way when you step into the room that nearly shines white and beige. But your gaze only briefly meets his before it drops, flittering over his form. 

He rests beneath multiple blankets that reach his stomach, his upper body clad in a soft white t-shirt that doesn't look like his own. Your jaw clenches when you spot his arm in a sling, stabilising it against his chest. As your eyes trail further upwards, a distressed sound bubbles up in your throat upon spotting the bandages peeking from beneath the left sleeve.

"John-", you don't manage to say anything more before you stutter to a stop, chest heaving on a sharp inhale.

"C'mere, love", his voice is hoarse, strained, barely more than a grating sound, but you move forward as on command.

You can't help how your mouth purses at how tired he looks, the hint of pain in his eyes so evident when you stop beside the bed.

"M'fine", John raises the arm of his healthy side, even so, he winces, eyes shutting tightly for a brief moment before they open again.

"Don't lie, I see that you're not", you murmur as you take hold of the hand that tried to reach your face, allowing his upper arm to drop and rest along the bed, instead meeting him halfway by bending down to kiss his knuckles.

John exhales deeply, eyelids fluttering close, the crease between his brows never smoothening. God, it hurts to see him like this. 

You step closer, the side of the bed pressing into your thigh, planting a kiss at the very centre of the furrow. When you look down at John again, his features have softened, but his eyes still have a troubled look when that blue gaze meets yours.

"I'll leave ya two to it". You look over your shoulder, sending Johnny a look of gratitude.

"Thank you, Soap", John says. The Scot only nods in return, giving you a last look before he exits.

Once you're alone with John, you exhale almost painfully before gazing down at him. 

"You don't know how scared I got when Johnny called", you admit. This time, John pulls your hand rather than face towards him, tipping his head forward to plant a firm kiss against your knuckles. "Thought-"

"Sit down, love". Upon catching your distress, John pats the side of his bed with a gentle voice. Although his attempt does little to ease your nerves, seeing how the slight move of his legs sideways to give you space only makes his features twist.

"Not a chance", you protest with a shake of your head, fearful of accidentally hurting him more. Instead, you glance around the room, finding a pair of chairs along the wall.

John doesn't hold you back as you release him and move towards them, but you guess it's more because he can't then don't want to. 

You pull the chair along and put it as close to the hospital bed as possible, not hesitating to lean over the low metal railing at the side to hold John's hand again after sitting down, your other hand settling on his forearm, rubbing soothing motions. 

You gaze up at the blue-eyed man, those pretty eyes of his duller than usual, exhaustion shining in its own faded might. His brown hair is one of the few darker accents in the room; the screen of the heartbeat monitor is the other source. Yet, it's matted, fallen to its own will against his forehead rather than styled into something casual by his fingers running through it and pushing it backwards. 

Leaning forwards, your card your hand through John's hair, not nearly correcting it to how he usually does, but better nonetheless. 

Your gaze flitters to meet his when you settle back in your seat, noting the smile adorning his lips. 

"Happy to see you again, love". Not daring to test your voice, you kiss his knuckles in return. This time, you're positioned low enough that John's hand goes to cup your face when you lean away again, brushing his thumb over the apple of your cheek. "Even if it could've been under better circumstances".

You don't notice it until John's thumb paints a streak of wetness over your skin, but he redirects a stray tear rather than letting it follow its natural path.

"You're here. That's what matters". You squeeze John's wrist, leaning away to wipe your cheeks yourself, offering him a smile with a breathed chuckle.

"Was never not close to return". John wraps his hand over yours, letting them drop to the bed as he reflects your smile. "Shoddy shot whoever they were, used a handgun in close combat and still missed the brachial artery and brachial plexus", John releases one of those huff-chuckles of his. You shake your head, having no idea what difference it would make if whoever shot him hadn't missed those points, only that it probably would've been a lot worse.

"What- what went wrong?" Your gaze flickers to his injured side.

A heaved sigh escapes him before he speaks.

"Mission was bumpy from the start but went fine". You knew he let confidential details out, but you didn’t want to know anything apart from what happened to him. "Needed to wait out exfil in an abandoned buildin'. Remained remarkably silent until we got the call to move to the pick-up point. Got ambushed, absolute shitshow". He shakes his head with a grunt.

"How's the others?" You'd seen two of the four men, though Ghost and Kyle's absence suddenly irked you upon hearing what John told you.

"Bruised but none too badly". John ran his thumb over your hand. A low, partly amused, partly exasperated huff escaped him as he continued. "My turn to take the brunt for the team, it seemed".

Even if you could've wished for a better outcome for John, at least none of the others had gotten off worse. 

You suck your lower lip between your teeth as you really try to take in his state, trying, only try again to find your words. Seeing John like this almost feels wrong. 

You'd witnessed his soft side, but this wasn't soft. This is hurt. He wasn't sluggish as when you managed to keep him in bed rather than rise with the birds on the occasional weekend. This was exhaustion, one he tried to hide, but the lines on his face exposed nonetheless. 

Barely anything could've pulled your attention from John as you tried to find your words, any consolidation that wouldn't sound like pity. And yet, when a knock sounded from the door, soon after swinging open, both your and John's eyes are pulled to the entrance.

When you spit the woman striding into the room, your brows jump up.

"Kate? Didn't think you would be here". Upon noticing you sitting by John's side, the American woman stalled, the computer beneath her arm pulled in front of her.

"I was involved in the mission the boys went on". She juts her chin towards the man at your side. "Mind if I speak to him?" Her tone wasn't stern, nothing hinting at malice or desire to break you and John up. Still, it didn't really sound like she asked.

You looked from Kate to John, not really stunned compared to feeling how a bubble unexpectedly broke. "Oh, yes, of course, I'll wait outside". 

Considering how neither stopped you as you stood, John only squeezing your hand before letting go, you took it as an affirmation this wasn't a conversation you had any clearance to be present for and that one way or another would've happened either way.

Even so, Kate offers you a kind smile as you pass her on the way out. Yet, you note the blonde woman's features looked tighter than on the night of the party, without a doubt due to the predicament making John end up in a hospital bed.

When the door falls shut behind you, you lean against the wall just to the left of the entrance. It's silent to a degree you would guess the room John's in is semi, if not entirely, sound-proofed. Considering it isn't an emergency wing, you wouldn't disregard the possibility.

You sigh, eyes falling close. What a fucking day.

You don't know how long you stand like that, but you're only dragged out from whatever trance you entered once you catch the elevator stopping on your floor and the steps coming closer soon after. Considering you'd anticipated a nurse or the like, your brows rise when the pristinely white surroundings suddenly stand in stark contrast to the person dressed in dark army clothing.

"Heard from Soap you would be around". You smile as you push off the wall, meeting Kyle as he closes the distance between you. "How are you holding up?" The question brushes past your shoulder as he brings you in for a hug before keeping you within arm's distance, studying what must be your tired features.

"As good as can be". You smile in return. The young Brit rubs your upper arms reassuringly as he nods, seeming content with your answer as his arms drop to his sides. "You here to visit John?"

"I was, got some gaps in my schedule", Kyle confirms before cocking his head. "But I guess I'll have to wait, considering you're not there with him".

”Kate is paying him a visit”. He looks at the door with a furrowed brow before his attention tracks back to you and it smoothens. ”If you wanna greet him, maybe you have enough authority to”. Kyle only shakes his head. 

”If Laswell wanted to talk to him first, there’s a reason. The rest of us will know in due time. Hopefully, he ain't such a grouse by then”. He shrugs, and you can't stop your laugh. This time, it's not half-hearted nor forced.

"All of you laying it on thick about how grumpy he is".

"He isn't such a charmer when things don't go his way and he isn't surrounded by pretty faces". You swat Kyle on the arm as he sends you a look. "Only telling you the truth, not all of us get special treatment".

"Yeah, yeah, alright", he nudges your shoulder with his knuckles before stepping backwards.

"Send the Cap'n my regards, have to be on my way".

"Will do. Have a good day, Kyle". He gives you a nod of goodbye in return as he turns on his heel, heading back to the elevator he came from a few minutes ago. You offer him a last wave before the door closes.

Alone again, you look at the clock on the wall. But, considering you have no recollection of when you exited the room, you can't tell how much time has passed since Kate arrived, only guessing it must be at least a dozen. 

You scan the corridor, finding sporadic rows of chairs along the wall, similar to the ones in John's room. Not knowing how long John and Kate's unofficial meeting would continue, you move to one of the seats across from where you'd stood, fishing up your phone to make time pass faster as you sit down.

Taking note this time, you know another ten minutes have passed before the door opposite you opens and pulls your eyes from your screen.

You slip your phone into your pocket as you push up from the seat and head towards Kate, Even though she’s keeping the door open with one hand on the handle, you barely catch the end of John's sentence before it ends.

Just as you reach her side, Kate's attention trails from John to you, giving you space to enter by stepping out of the room. Flashing her a brief smile, you move forward but suddenly gets halted when her hand slips around your upper arm.

"It's good to see the Captain's got someone with him", her voice is lowered, only for you to catch.

Your lips tug upwards in a genuine smile. Without really knowing how to answer that, you offer Kate a nod and a small 'thank you' in return.

The smile she reciprocates with is much less strained this time around. "Take care of him now".

"I will". And with that, she nods goodbye, heading down the hallway while you re-enter the room. 

"Spoke with Kyle". You begin while closing the door behind you. "He says hello". You forward his message to avoid forgetting. 

When your eyes fall upon John, whom you barely catch an answer from, at least not more than a hum, you notice how he's sunken deeper into the bed.

"You tired?" You retake your place in the armchair as he hums again. As John scoots closer to your side and stretches his hand towards you, you settle your elbow on the bed and intertwine your hands again.

"Laswell was worried, wanted to check in and inform me some things that needed finishin' could wait". The pauses between his words were prolonged, and the pronunciation drawled as he briefed you on his conversation with Kate. "Should finish them, though", he grunted, trying to sit up straight against the pillows, but you settled a hand on his stomach.

"You need to rest, John. If Kate said things could wait, trust her". He stilled, looking back at you with slow, almost drowsy blinks.

"Fine", he agreed, settling into the bed again.

 As he sighed, eyes fluttering close, you felt something bleed from your body, making your upper body relax forwards, head settling on the verge between John’s hip and his lower stomach. Feeling the weight, his eyes flutter open, head tilting forward as he gazes at you. 

"Mm, talk to me, love, what you've been up to".

"Not much, really. I worked and met up with some friends. Oh, Marissa and I went on a little investment spree for Christmas".

"Investment?" John humours in a low voice, the twitch in his mouth unable to pull his lips into a complete smile compared to only tilting the edges upwards.

"If they're going to be reused yearly, that's an investment". He chuckles deeply, and you release a chuckle of your own.

You continue talking about what you've done in the week and a half you've been apart. Some Christmas baking, putting up decorations as of today, noting how most things out of the ordinary related to the holiday season. 

Gradually, you notice how John's eyes fall close. Even so, he's still invested in the conversation with few-worded responses. But even those soon become nods and hums when his hand relaxes in yours. As you move to gently trail your fingers up and down his forearm, all while continuing to talk, the soothing motions make him heave a sigh. 

Soon enough, the only sounds he lets out are the breaths escaping his parted lips, his softened breathing followed by the rhythmic movement of his chest. 

You trail off in your sentence with a small smile, watching John's sleeping features. No furrow pulls his brows together, no involuntary twinge in his features letting on his pain. He looks at ease, and it finally settles your nerves as well. 

In stark contrast to how you notice John's consciousness slipping, you don't detect yours slowly doing the same. 

Your movements up and down his skin slowly grow shorter, from trailing between his wrist to the crook in his arm to only rubbing the spot your hand eventually stills on. The tension in your neck releases from the claws of whatever emotions had built throughout the tumultuous day, your head feeling heavier as it rests against his stomach. There's a fine line between when your blinking turns from slow to prolonged, even slimmer to when you can pinpoint your last conscious thought.

You're not the first to wake up. John's the one who stirs when a knock sounds from the door.

If not for the pain in his shoulder, despite being suppressed, he wouldn't blink his eyes so blearily and feel his mind sluggishly awake compared to what's expected of someone like him. Even so, his senses are sharper than yours as he notes your form slumped over the bed and your head resting on him, serene features remaining much like your steady breaths bleeding through the blankets.

His eyes trails to the door, releasing a low sound that must have sounded like a grunt to whoever was on the other side, but he couldn't care. The door swings open, Soap stepping through it much like he'd done a few hours earlier, but then with you by his side. 

Now, the Sctosman closes the door behind him gently upon noting your sleeping form before his attention settles on John.

As Soap steps further into the room, John's eyes flit down to your sleeping form before rising again. With a swift look at the clock, he knows what the Sergeant is probably here for. He softly settles his hand upon your head.

You don’t remember falling asleep, only that John did, so when you’re roused from a dreamless nap by a hand cradling your scalp, you feel groggy when sitting up straight all too suddenly. 

You blink repeatedly as your vision focuses again, finding John looking at you, his hand sliding down to the back of your head and down your arm.

"Sleep well?"

"Mhm". You roll your head, twitching at the twinge in your neck from your not-so-ergonomic sleeping position.

"Not the comfiest spot for ya". The Scottish accent catches you off-guard, as last you checked, only you and John were in the room.

You turn around, spotting the very Scot who'd spoken. "Oh, hi, Johnny".

"Hey, lass", he chuckles in return. "Just came ’bout to inform ya there’s a room waitin' if ya want to stay the night". 

Your brows lift, eyes shifting to John, who's already watching you. "You don’t need to. I’ll be holed up here either way".

"It will just be less travel tomorrow", you shrug, turning back to Soap as you confirm you'll stay.

"Come on then, lass, visitin' hours are over soon". He opened the door slightly as he spoke, showing you he would guide you to your room for the night. You nodded, shifting out of your seat to stand, not without looking down at John.

"Go, get some proper sleep", he nudges your hip. You give him a brief smile before bending down, pressing your lips against his. They're chapped, but their plush warmth is soft. As you part from him, you mumble a 'goodnight' against him, an equally low 'goodnight, love' murmured against your lips, warming you further before you pull away.

You place the chair back where it's meant before fetching your things from beside the bed and offer John a last parting smile and a 'see you tomorrow'.

Just before you pass through the door, you look back at John, offering him a small wave, one he answers with a warm smile.

"You really turn the Captain into a love-sick man", Johnny's comment comes seconds after the door closes. You turn to him, seeing the amused look he sends you.

"Oh, shut up". You swat Johnny's arm, making him bark out a chuckle.

"Ain't nothin' bad, lass", he mused, nudging you back with his elbow.

The Scotsman lead you to another part of the compound, a freestanding building just across the one you exited, at the other side of the parking lot. 

It had begun snowing. Fat constellations of powdery white fall through the air as you trudge through what's already covering the ground. You flick up the lapel of your coat, burrowing your nose in the fabric as you protect your eyes from the snowflakes desiring to stick to your lashes. 

When you entere the building you'd been heading toward, the warmth inside was a welcoming change, and you shrug away the snow that had yet to melt into the dark fabric enveloping you. 

This time around, there was no need to sign papers as upon your arrival, Johnny simply led you straight to the room appointed for you, handing you the key when stopping outside the door. As you entered, you were surprised, not knowing what you'd anticipated, but certainly not a space similar to a hotel room.

A low whistle pulls your eyes to Johnny. "Aye, not bad", his eyes rove over the room before settling on you.

"Much better than I thought", you agree, stepping inside, shrugging the bag off your shoulder, and simply putting it on the floor.

"Didn't think we would put ya in the barracks, did ya?"

"Never experienced military hospitality before, but didn't expect much", you shrug, smiling in return as you turn to face him.

He shakes his head. "That's the thanks", he quips, yet his grin deceives him. "I'll see ya in the mornin', lass".

"Johnny!" He halts in the step he'd begun to take, watching you with raised brows. "Just, thank you for... everything today". His fingers rap against the door handle as he shifts the weight on his feet.

"Knew it probably would be tough for ya and that Price probably hadn’t even thought ‘bout having ya visit here yet. S’jus' wanted to make it as smooth as possible for the both of ya. Know he would've done the same for the rest of us", he shrugs with a gentle smile. Johnny's consideration warming your heart.

"Thank you, really".

The side of his mouth bows upwards. "Ya are welcome". And with that, he closes the door.

***

When you wake up in an unfamiliar room, remembering where you are takes a few seconds. Then it comes rushing back as you see the visiting pass on the bedside table. Johnny’s phone call. John’s injury. The military base. 

You sit up with a jawn, peeking out the room's sole window.

It’s utterly white outside, with no cloud in the sky as the sun just about peeks over the horizon, suggesting today will be considerably colder than yesterday.

Slipping from bed, you’re quick to dress yourself. The t-shirt you slept in gets stuffed into your handbag as you only shrug on the hoodie from yesterday, slipping into your pants not soon after.

You move to the bathroom, lamenting the lack of anything to freshen up. Even so, you splash your face with water, trying to tame your hair before sighing heavily, simply fetching the hair-tie you’d remembered to take off your wrist before bed. 

Moving around the room, you remember the package of gum you’d thrown into your bag a few days ago, hoping you hadn’t chewed through the whole package when it would ease your mind about morning breath.

You rummage through your bag, cursing what yesterday didn't feel like a lot of stuff, but now does as you search for what you need. 

A swift two-rap knock echoes from the door just as a triumphant sound escapes you when you spot the silvery package. Popping a gum into your mouth, you move towards the entrance, not surprised to find Johnny on the other side as you swing it open.

”Good morning”. 

Johnny cocks his head as you smile at him before he splits into his own grin. ”Ya seem cheery this mornin’.”

”Seeing that John’s doing good helped me sleep better”, you shrug, catching a hum from him as you turn around to collect your stuff around the room. ”And then the bed was surprisingly good”.

”These ones are heaven in comparison to those in the barracks”.

”Yeah?” You turn towards the Scot standing with his hands behind his back, waiting at the doorstep.

“Aye, happy to not be rookie anymore”.

”Understandable”, you chuckle as you and Johnny step out into the hallway before tracking the same path you’d done yesterday. You could’ve done it yourself but had an inkling that you couldn’t move freely on the base.

”So you’re my guide while I’m here?” Blue eyes flicker down to you as he lets you pass out the door to the courtyard first.

It’s indeed colder today than yesterday, the chill biting your cheeks.

”Aye. Concernin’ Price was bed-bound; I needed to sign those papers in his stead”.

”And you don’t have better things to do?” 

”L.T. gave me five minutes to spare”.

”From what?” The snow crunches beneath your shoes.

”Whatever drill he set up to run us into the ground”. You let out a surprised laugh at that, making the Scot grin. ”Yaself then, lass, goin’ to keep an eye out on the Captain for us when he leaves?”

Your eyes widen, switching to look at Johnny once evading an ice-spot as you cross the parking lot. ”He’s cleared to go home?” 

”Haven't got any confirmation on it. But he's got no vital injury and has stayed close to two days, so it’s probable he’ll get to go home”, he shrugs.

The warmth rushes against your face as you enter the main building, much like yesterday, taking a right towards the medical wing.

”Feel like I’ll need to. Otherwise, he’ll stress the injury”.

”Wouldn’t be the first time any of us did that”. Johnny rubbed his neck as you raised your brows at him. He positioned himself opposite you as you stepped into the elevator, giving you a sheepish shrug. ”Comes with the job sometimes despite medical leaves”, the Scot excused the habit, only making you roll your eyes with a disbelieving huff.

”Then I’ll definitely have to ensure he takes it easy”. The doors close, and the elevator smoothly rises.

”Price won’t be able to say no to ya, never has since he met ya”. When your head dips into a shake this time, a smile adorns your lips that you try to hide. Even so, the Scot slung his arm around your shoulders with a laugh as you exited the elevator upon its chime and the doors opening.

The walk to John’s room seems much shorter than yesterday, without a doubt, because you know of his stable state. So when Johnny drops his arms from your shoulders, it’s not with bathed breath you open the door. 

Unlike yesterday, your eyes don’t lock with John’s the second you enter the room designated to him. His gaze remains cast downwards on the tablet in his lap, even if his head tilts your way to show he noted someone had entered. Not until the Scot behind you offers a ’Mornin’ Captain’ does the man in the bed look up.

”What was that about makin’ him take it easy?” Johnny chuckles lowly, making you send him a look before he departs with a mock salute. You only shake your head at the man before entering the room.

”Aren’t you meant to take it easy?” You watch John with a raised brow, catching how the door slides close behind you while you slip out of your coat. 

”I am”.

”Let me rephrase”, you chide him with a smile. ”Shouldn’t you relax, no work?” You move to the side of his bed with one of the chairs dragged along behind you.

”I-

”Don’t say that you are John. I know that look on your face”, you remark with a finger towards the easing purse of his lips and the furrow between his brows that’s not brought on entirely by pain like yesterday.

He sighs heavily, a locking sound coming from the tablet as he drops it screen-down in his lap. ”You’re right”.

 ”I know I am”. John releases a huff of laughter through his nose at your comment, softening your smile. ”Did you sleep well?”

He hums. ”Woke a few times ’cause of this-”. He jerked his head to his shoulder. ”Bed probably goin’ to set off my back”, he scoffed in annoyance at having to deal with the twinge in the lower part of his spine that you’d learnt most often came and went more frequently after he returned from a deployment or a bad mattress. 

You hum, leaning forward to card your fingers through his hair that had fallen across his forehead after his previous jerky movement. While you do, you catch John returning the question, but your answer is an undeveloped ’good’, all your attention upon the locks your fingers card through.

His hair feels matted, and when your eyes briefly flicker over his face, you note his beard is untamed, not grizzly, but it’s lost the shine it usually always has.

”When was the last time you showered?”

”That's your way of tellin’ me I smell?” Your nose scrunches, hand falling to rest on the metal railing as your gaze locks with John’s amused one.

”No, at least that wasn’t what I was getting at”. 

A chuckle precedes the more serious answer you get. ”About a week ago at the last safe-house, haven’t been able to have one after returnin’. Can’t wet the bandages”. You purse your lips, gaze momentarily switching to his shoulder before trailing back.

”How long before you can take them off?”

”The Doc visited before you came around and said I’m clear to leave, but the bandages needed to stay on until tomorrow”.

You nod. ”Johnny betted you would be able to go home today”.

”We know how these thing goes. Instructions about wound care, then sent off on med-leave before even attempting to come back and get shot at again”.

”Jesus, John”, you let out a chuckle of disbelief, shaking your head. When you raise it again, there’s a slight tug in the corner of his mouth and a knowing, truthful, look in his eyes. "Better we get you home and start the arduous wait, then." You offered him a smile and a raise of your brows, silently wondering if he was ready to pack up.

"Can't wait".

It wasn't a hassle to get John out of bed. He groaned and gruffed to himself as he pushed himself upright with your hand steadying him on his back, but that was about it. As he rose from the bed, you helped him into his boots and gently slung the jacket draped over his duffel-bag on the other side of his bed. 

You'd sent him a look when he'd noted you of the bag's presence, remembering it wasn't there yesterday, to which he only explained Kyle got around and dropped off his things just after the Doctor had visited.

Although standard issued and didn't seem too heavy once you made the proposition to carry it instead of him, you cursed in disbelief when slinging it over your shoulder, not anticipating its weight. It had given John a good laugh before offering to take it regardless. However, you remained stubborn, motioning for him to take the lead out of the room with a 'you don't know how heavy our purses can be sometimes'.

But you don't enjoy a second of it as you trudge through the building; you more than John slowing the tempo. He catches you grumbling under your breath numerous times about what he's got in there, falling back to walk beside you once you reach the parking lot, mentioning he doesn’t desire looking back and find you toppled over in a heap of snow. He'd gotten another glare upon that comment.

You'd thought the drive home to John's would've been less arduous, but you'd found yourself unable to relax just as much, but for entirely different reasons.

With each turn of the car, you noticed how John braced his feet against the floor so as not to move in his seat, his free hand slipping beneath the seat belt to keep it from digging into his injury at times.

The way he acted made you all the more cautious in your driving, even picking routes that had more straight for his sake. You knew John noticed when you didn't take the usual right about halfway through the drive by the glance in your direction.

By the time you pulled into his driveway, the sky had darkened, and snow had started falling, making your and John's retreat into the house from the car hasty. Nonetheless, he managed to escape the weather that was worsening by the second much quicker compared to you as you fetched his bag from the booth.

You don't take more than a few steps into the foyer before you slip John's bag to the floor. When the pressure of the straps disappears, you sigh in relief.

John's chuckle makes you send him a glare. However, it melts away when your gaze finds the absolute disarray of his hair, now a combination of dirty and wet from the snow.

"Come one, I'll help you freshen up". You say, closing the door behind you, shielding you from the chilling cold.

"No need, love". You send him a look over your shoulder as you take off your coat, finding John stepping out of his barely laced boots.

"Why? You always have a shower when you get home?"

"If you have forgotten, can't get this wet for a day more". John nods to his shoulder as he faces you. "Can just wait 'till tomorrow".

Your brows furrow, and your hand falls to your hip while hanging up your coat. "John, I know how religious you are about your routine once you come home. There is no need to skip it just because you can't do it yourself when I simply can help".

You see his resolve falter somewhat as he regards you. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all", you shake your head. "Wouldn't mind a hot shower to warm up in this cold house of yours". A smile tugs in the corner of your lip when you end the sentence with an exaggerated wink.

It makes John chuckle as he shakes his head before those blue eyes rise to follow you when you approach. "Don't think I could supply that need now".

"Out of us two, I'm the one who can go a bit without being dicked-down". You kiss John's cheek as you slide the jacket from his shoulder, catching the harsh sigh as you wander to hang up his piece of clothing beside yours.

"That a challenge?" He hums as his un-injured arm sneaks around your waist as you finish your task, gently turning you around to pull you towards him. "Besides, I got other ways to satisfy you". 

"Oh, I know". You give John a softer look as your hand slides down his forearm before gripping his hand, moving it to hang beside your bodies. "But let's listen to the doctor for now and let you heal up first". You offer him a smile as you back away and head into the house, John letting himself be led by you as you steer towards the stairs.

Not until you've reached his bedroom do you let go of his hand, ushering him to the bathroom as you move to his dresser. You swiftly dig through it for a new pair of pants, opting not to bring a shirt, believing neither of you could bother the hassle of attempting to put it on.

"Strip", you wave your finger towards John as you step over the threshold to join him in the en suite.

"Thought Doc's orders applied". You catch the smugness in his voice, sending him a humoured look, one he answers with a wink as he moves to sit down on the lid of the toilet. While John rid himself of the pants he'd gotten from the hospital, you place his own pair on the sink. 

While he kicks them aside, your attention falls on the white shirt still covering his upper body. A furrow enters your brows, lips pursing. It would be challenge to take it off even if you helped him, being an uncomfortable and possibly painful process no doubt.

"Just cut it off". Your eyes meet John's, checking if you heard him right. With his head falling sideways in a nod, you move to the sink drawer to fetch the scissors, silently agreeing it might just be the easiest thing to do.

Mindful of the sling and bandages, you rid John of the thin cotton shirt, leaving him in only his boxers briefs. 

While you turn around to throw the strips of his shirt into the bin, John stands, moving around you toward the shower. By cocking your hip, you swiftly close the drawer after putting back the scissors.

As you turn to say something to John, you catch him stabilising himself on the edge of the sink, knees just about to bend. Realising what he is about to do, all your previous thoughts are promptly cut short.

”You’re not kneeling on the floor." John stalls in his movement, looking at you. If he says anything in return, you don't catch it as you're already on your way out of his room.

The spare bathroom, which was under renovation the first time you visited, has now been finished. But you remember the stool John had used was yet to be taken to the spare room downstairs. Although you'd reminded him about it every time you'd been over, now you were thankful as you could fetch it as something John could sit on rather than the floor.

With a slight shuffling step, you bring the stool along with you and to where John waits, leaning against the sink, his eyes finding you the second you're visible through the open door of his en suite.

"Sit”, you motion to the stool you brought once John had moved to the side and let you set it down inside the shower's glass doors. A slight tug that doesn't evolve into a smile is present at the edge of his mouth as he follows your command.

When John makes himself comfortable on the stool, you gently nudge the back of his head with your fingers, urging him to bow forward to make it easier for you. Even sitting down, he reaches your stomach.

Pushing up the sleeves of your hoodie, you turn on the tap, testing the water steadily flowing from the showerhead on your hand. When finally finding the perfect temperature, you keep the stream gentle so as not to splash the bandages covering his left arm but rather trickle forward and down to the floor. 

Small groans of appreciation escape John as you wash his hair, fingers running over his scalp to wet every single strand before setting down the showerhead and massaging some shampoo over his head. Earthy and clean scents fill the warm air as it steams every reflective surface inside the bathroom.

You do a double cleanse, not because you think John needs it, but because he seems to enjoy the gentle pressure off your fingers as they run up and down his scalp. 

After washing away the last sudds, you take a towel from the rack and cover his head. Your laughter fills the air as you hear the huff of amusement from beneath the fabric draped over him as you attempt to dry his hair as much as possible by ruffling the fabric.

Ultimately, you slide the towel from his head, letting it hang around his neck to catch any stray droplets from reaching his shoulder. John turns towards you upon having his vision uncovered again, and you instinctively step closer when he does, inspecting his face.

”I don’t trust myself trimming your beard”, you card your fingers through the brown strands on his cheek. A low huff pulls your eyes to the blue ones steadily watching you.

”Can do that myself in a day or two. You’ve done plenty enough, love”. John’s about to stand, but your hand softly settles on his healthy shoulder.

”I only said I don’t want to go near the best part of you with scissors”.

”The best part, eh?” He pinches the back of your lower thigh, a squeak slipping out of you as you bat his hand away with a lower lip curled between your teeth.

”Don’t bite the hand that feeds you”, you chide with an evolving smile. 

You catch John’s chuckle as you switch your attention to the counter, eyeing his products as neatly lined up as usual and the set of your own products beside them. Stepping away to the sink and out of his reach, you grab one of the face towels from the stack he’d bought for you to always have at his place, along with the other products needed.

When you turn back, you set the things on the sink-edge beside you. 

”Said I can’t shape it up, but that doesn’t mean I can’t make the most out of what I can do”.

”You pamperin’ me?” Your eyes flit sideways, meeting a blue gaze watching you with a tilted head.

”I’m taking care of you, John”, you corrected him as you turned to wet your hands beneath the tap and squirted some cleanser into your hands. 

John doesn't respond, only remains quiet when you start coating his face in the milky substance, merely staring up at you for a few seconds before his eyes flutter close when you cock a brow down at him.

You gently rub away the invisible grime on his face, staying clear of his beard as you lather his face. Humming gently, you wipe away the suds after a few dozen seconds and continue with the beard shampoo. 

You’d seen the man, who now lets his chest deflate with a content sigh as you easily angle his head backwards with a few fingers beneath his chin, do his beard-routine a few times. It wasn’t difficult to remember, and you’re happy you didn’t need to ask John and bring him out of the relaxed state he’d entered as you used one of the brushes to rub the product into his beard.

Using the opposite edge of the towel, you also dry off his beard. 

You wash off the white foam from the brush as you discard the towel before coating his skin in your moisturiser, only to continue by dropping some oil into your palms before you settle them over his lower face, smoothening them over the strands. 

As you shift to the sink again, you reach for his comb, only to find John’s eyes had fluttered open when you turn back. 

Those blues of his are soft as you gently comb his facial hair with slow movements. His hand settles on the outside of your thigh when you pick up the beard balm, warming it between your palms. The vanilla white lotion softens and warms between your hands before you work it through his beard. 

Slowly, John's hand moves to the back of your leg while fingers lightly start tracing the line of his beard and skin, both much smoother than previously. 

The moment was soft, gazing at one another in silence, before you cupped John's cheek and bent down. A gentle smell of something nutty from John's beard invades your nose as you press your lips against his. 

Even if you end up trading multiple kisses, the pauses never let you drift further away than for your lips to rush against one another.

John felt the last bit of tension leave his body. Something awfully soft had infiltrated his heart as you fussed around him, your hand leaving gentler touches than even the Doc had done when he’d returned from the field with his shot-up shoulder. He’d tried to ward off your help and doting, but now he realised he needed this.

He’s been on 24/7 for over a week. He’s run on less food than at home. Countless times, his mouth had watered when thinking about the roast you’d shared before his deployment. He’s run on minimal sleep for several days in a row, barely more than half asleep when given a moment of tranquillity and nowhere near as relaxed as when having you in his arms. He’d looked over his shoulder for more than double the amount, only to be hit by a bullet in the end anyway, coming home broken.

John pulls away, cupping one of the hands that rests on his cheek, turning to kiss your palm. But, when he gazes at you again, your brows draw together.

”Don’t”.

"I didn’t say anythin'"

You only shake your head. "I know what you’re thinking, and no, you're not a burden".

"But I'm a broken man at the moment, love. Just see how much you've needed to do today", he scoffs, letting go of your hand, letting his fall onto his lap. You stop John from turning his head to the side, away from you, instead forcing him to watch you.

You look down at the man who meets your gaze with an almost sorrowful look. "And you think that bothers me?"

"Why wouldn’t it? It’s not your responsibility. Should just not have gone about gettin’ shot-".

"Jonathan Price". The use of his government name shuts his grumbling right up, his eyes even widening the slightest bit. "What bothers me isn’t that you got shot. I know the dangers of your work. What does bother me is seeing you in pain".

"I appreciate it, but there’s no need for you to do all this, to care for me". His voice is softer, but you still shake your head.

"Yes, there is because I love you". You barely notice the weight of what you say, those three chosen words leaving your lips in a too-natural fashion to be the first time. But rather than reluctance preceding and nerves following them, there's a sense of them being long overdue in the first place.

"I hate how much it hurts seeing your pain, so it’s not that I need to do anything for you. I very much care because I want to, John".

Compared to a few moments ago when John wanted to turn away from you, now he can't take his eyes off you. Whatever murky emotion which clouded his eyes has lifted, those blues clearer than ever as he stares right back at you, lips slightly parted.

"I’ve said it before, but you're too good for me".

"They say you get what you deserve". You offer John a smile, and something just crumbles then.

"God, you don’t know how much I love you, darlin’".

Your chest swells, heart suddenly pumping much warmer blood through your body. "So let me take care of you now when you need it".

"I- of course", he breathes, voice remarkably thin to support his gravelly cords as he shuts his eyes tightly. John gives you a single nod instead of attempting to continue his sentence, and you lean down to press a kiss against his forehead. 

His arm loops around your waist the best it can from his slumped forward angle, pulling you close so his head rests against your upper stomach. Despite his hair being wet, you card your fingers through it, kissing the top of his head, his warm exhalation warming your skin despite the thick sweater.

"Goin’ to be one hell of a Christmas". The first half of the sentence is mumbled into you, the second half clearer as John looks up at you again.

You hum, feeling how one of the strands at the back of his neck drips water onto your fingers. "I only see more of a reason to have a lazy day".

"Where you do everythin’".

"Hush, now you’ve allowed me to do the work for once". You twirl the hair at the nape of his neck, looking back into those blues.

"Still don’t want you workin’ yourself to death". He gives you an honest rather than pointed look.

"I should say that to you", you only muse lightly in return, not needing to avert your eyes to his bandages as they shine like a beacon in the corner of your vision. "And I reckon it’s going to be fine either way".

"M’sure”, his reply is hummed into the sparse space between your faces before your lips press against his in a fleeting kiss. Before you lean back and straighten, however, his hand cups the back of your neck. "Thank you for all of this, love".

"You know it’s nothing". Although John doesn’t answer as you step backwards, you don’t catch any guilt, no trace of the previous gloom in his gaze. He believes your words, the crows-feet at the edges of his eyes and smile-lines around his mouth further proof.