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marie-swriting · 1 year

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Un Homme Respectable - Steve Rogers

Marvel Masterlist

Résumé : Tu es en train de rentrer chez toi tout en essayant de te débarrasser d'un homme qui t'embête depuis quelques minutes. Heureusement, proche de toi, il y a un homme qui déteste les brutes

Warnings : pre-serum Steve, se passe dans les années 40, harcèlement de rue, bagarre, policier qui n'écoute pas la reader, fin fluffy, dites-moi si j'en ai oubliés d'autres !

Nombre de mots : 3.2k

Version anglaise

Tu marches en direction de chez toi tout en essayant de ne pas montrer ton agacement à l’homme avançant à tes côtés. Il ne te laisse pas tranquille depuis une dizaine de minutes même si tu ne montres aucun intérêt à son monologue. D'abord, tu avais répondu à son bonjour par politesse, mais tu n'avais pas prévu de lui parler, à lui ou à une autre personne. Tu veux juste rentrer chez toi tranquillement. Toutefois, selon lui, ton mutisme indique que tu es intéressée par ses histoires. Depuis son arrivée, tu essayes de ne pas montrer ton malaise, cependant si on regarde attentivement, on devine que tu voudrais être loin de lui.

Tu n'oses pas dire qu'il te dérange, appréhendant sa réaction jusqu'à ce que l’inconnu pose son bras autour de tes épaules. À ce moment-là, ta patience atteint officiellement ses limites. Tu tentes de te détacher de lui alors qu’il te tient un peu plus fermement.

-Excusez-moi, mais pourriez vous me lâcher, s’il vous plaît ? Nous ne nous connaissons pas.

-On peut vite changer ça, poupée, affirme-t-il avec un sourire en coin. Faisons plus ample connaissance, allons danser ce soir !

-Non, merci, refuses-tu, catégoriquement, espérant qu'il te laisse seule.

-Et pourquoi ?

En entendant sa protestation, tu te retiens de soupirer de frustration. Pourquoi est-ce que tu as besoin de lui justifier ton "non" ? Ne peut-il pas voir qu’il t’embête ?

-Je ne peux pas.

-Oh, tu te laisses désirer, j’aime ça, murmure-t-il avec un regard prétentieux. Allez, poupée, tu ne vas pas le regretter. Laisse-moi une chance, tu vas voir que je suis l’homme de tes rêves.

Cette fois, tu roules légèrement tes yeux, assez visible pour exprimer ton agacement, mais pas assez pour qu'il le remarque, apparemment. De plus, son surnom "poupée" commence de plus en plus à te taper sur les nerfs. Il ne te connaît pas et agit comme s'il pouvait tout se permettre avec toi. Comprenant qu'il n'est pas prêt d'abandonner, tu penses à un mensonge et pris pour qu'il fonctionne.

-Malheureusement pour vous, j’ai déjà trouvé l’homme de mes rêves. Je suis fiancée.

-C’est étrange, je ne vois pas de bague sur ton doigt, rétorque l'homme en pointant ta main gauche.

-C’est, commences-tu en réfléchissant, c’est parce que la bague que m’a offert mon fiancé n’est pas à ma taille. C’est une bague de sa famille. Nous devons l’amener chez le bijoutier pour la régler. Par ailleurs, je suis en route pour retrouver mon fiancé pour le faire. Si vous voulez bien m’excuser, finis-tu avant de tenter de partir, mais il se met face à toi.

-Laisse-moi au moins t’accompagner, poupée. Ainsi, je pourrai également vérifier s’il existe vraiment, "ton fiancé".

-Je dis la vérité, répliques-tu sèchement.

-Faut pas t'énerver, souris un peu ! Allez, une dame comme toi a besoin d’un homme, tu peux l’avouer, t'as besoin d'être protégée.

-Je n’ai pas besoin de protection, merci. Laissez-moi tranquille maintenant, déclares-tu et tu tente de t'échapper à nouveau quand il t'agrippe le bras.

-Vous, les femmes, vous…

-Hé ! Elle t’a dit de la laisser tranquille.

En entendant la voix derrière toi, avec l'homme, vous regardez au-dessus de ton épaule et découvrez le corps frêle de Steve, te rendant heureuse en un instant. Tu ne connais peut-être pas Steve, mais s’il peut t’aider à te débarrasser de cet homme alors, tu acceptes son aide avec plaisir.

-Et t’es qui, toi ? Ne me dis pas que c’est ça, ton fiancé, demande l'homme en montrant Steve et en t'offensant par la même occasion.

-Si, c’est mon fiancé. Cela vous cause un problème ?

-Poupée, se moque-t-il, ton fiancé fait vingt kilos tout mouillé. Un coup de vent et il s’envole tellement qu’il n’a pas de muscle. Il ne pourra jamais être assez bien pour toi, ce n’est pas un vrai homme.

-La force physique m’importe peu, rétorques-tu, complètement énervée. Je suis avec mon fiancé, qui existe comme vous pouvez le voir, alors laissez-moi tranquille maintenant.

-Elle t’a répété plusieurs fois de la lâcher, alors tu devrais partir, insiste Steve en se mettant à tes côtés.

-Ecoute, minus, c’est une discussion entre moi et elle. Elle est attirée par moi, elle ne veut pas l’avouer par pitié pour toi.

-Pourtant, j’ai l’impression que ça fait plus de cinq minutes qu’elle essaye de se débarrasser de toi, si ce n’est plus.

-Les femmes sont toutes comme ça, à faire semblant de pas te vouloir alors qu’elles te veulent, justifie l'homme comme si c'était évident. Enfin, comment pourrais-tu savoir ? Au vu de ton apparence, les femmes ne doivent pas te regarder.

-Je vous interdis de lui dire ce genre de chose ! vocifères-tu.

-J’expose un fait, poupée.

-Arrête de l’appeler comme ça, elle n’est pas un objet. Tu devrais partir.

En parlant, Steve se positionne face à l'homme, devenant comme ton bouclier personnel. Malgré la différence de taille, Steve ne montre pas une hésitation dans sa gestuelle. L'homme roule ses yeux avant de les reposer sur Steve avec un air agacé.

-Toi, le minus, tu commences à me saouler.

Sans avoir le temps de réagir, l’homme frappe Steve au visage. Tu lâches un cri en le voyant tomber à terre. Avec difficulté, Steve se relève et positionne ses poings, prêt à répondre à l’attaque de l’homme. Il tente de le cogner, mais l’homme le prend par le col et le jette contre le mur d’une boutique. Quelques passants s’arrêtent, regardant la scène sans réagir. Paniquée, tu regardes aux alentours, cherchant de l’aide quand tu vois un officier de police en train de marcher un peu plus loin, ignorant ce qu'il se passe. Tu cours vers lui en l’interpellant. Le policier se retourne et fronce les sourcils en entendant la peur dans ta voix. Tu lui expliques brièvement qu’il y a une bagarre en pointant du doigt le lieu. L’officier ne te répond pas et court vers Steve et l’agresseur. Il arrive à les séparer en retenant l’homme pendant que tu t’accroupis en face de Steve. Tes mains se placent sur son visage blessé. Tu regardes les différentes coupures et bleus naissants de Steve. Ce dernier essaye de sourire pour te rassurer, cependant tes yeux sont encore remplis d’inquiétude. Tu aides Steve à se relever en te confondant en excuses.

-Mais qu’est-ce qu’il se passe ici ? Expliquez-vous tout de suite, messieurs ! exige l'officier.

-Ce n’est pas de sa faute, réponds-tu en pointant en direction de Steve. Il est venu m’aider car cet homme, ajoutes-tu en montrant l'individu qu'il retient, ne voulait pas me laisser tranquille, malgré mes complaintes. Il est celui qui a frappé en premier.

-Alors, comment ça s’est passé ?

Tu es stupéfaite quand tu entends le policier répéter sa question alors que tu viens de lui résumer la situation.

-Comme elle vient de le dire, commence Steve, elle avait besoin d’aide et je suis intervenu.

-Tout de suite les grands mots, “elle avait besoin d’aide”. Elle flirtait avec moi aussi ! Il a ruiné mon coup, contredit l'homme.

-Je crois pas que dire “non” à maintes reprises signifiait qu’elle répondait à ton flirt.

-Assez ! interrompt l'officier. Jeune homme, vous allez venir avec moi au poste, ajoute-t-il en resserrant son emprise sur l’homme. Vous deux, vous pouvez partir. Le spectacle est fini.

Les spectateurs improvisés de la scène retournent à leurs occupations tout en regardant l’officier traîner l’homme en arrière, ce dernier continue à déverser son agacement envers toi et Steve. Tu essayes de ne pas y prêter attention, surtout lorsque tu entends les différentes insultes à votre égard. Il te faut une minute pour te remettre de tes émotions, encore sous le choc que la situation ait dégénéré aussi vite. Quand tu arrives à respirer normalement de nouveau, tu poses tes yeux sur Steve et le vois en train d’essuyer du sang coulant de son nez. Tu récupères ton mouchoir de ton sac et le lui tends. Il l’accepte et s'essuie du mieux qu’il peut.

-Vous allez bien ? te demande Steve et tu le regardes avec de gros yeux.

-Je devrais être celle qui vous le demande ! Vous avez le visage tout amoché.

-Ne vous inquiétez pas, te rassure-t-il. Vous vous sentez de rentrer chez vous seule ou vous voulez que je vous accompagne ?

-Ça ira, merci.

-Très bien, alors je ne vais pas vous déranger plus longtemps. Bonne fin de journée, mademoiselle, te salue-t-il en commençant à marcher.

-Attendez ! Vous ne comptez pas rentrer tout seul chez vous ? le retiens-tu en venant à sa hauteur. Dieu seul sait à quel point cet homme vous a blessé, je ne voudrais pas que vous perdiez connaissance sur le chemin. Je vous accompagne.

-Vous n'êtes pas obligée.

-J’insiste. Après tout, c’est à cause de moi que vous êtes blessée. C’est la moindre des choses que je puisse faire pour vous remercier…, justifies-tu en laissant ta phrase en suspens pour qu'il te dise son nom.

-Steve Rogers.

-Y/N Y/L/N. Ravie de vous rencontrer, malgré les circonstances.

Vous marchez d’abord en silence. Tu ignores comment débuter la conversation, embarrassée d’être la cause des blessures de Steve. Quant à lui, il ne sait pas quoi dire, n’ayant pas beaucoup, pour ne pas dire pas du tout, d’expérience avec les femmes. Il tente de se mettre à la place de Bucky, espérant trouver les mots justes sans te donner l’impression de faire comme l’autre homme. Finalement, tu es celle qui ose briser le silence quelques minutes plus tard.

-Je suis désolée de lui avoir dit que vous étiez mon fiancé. J’avais juste besoin de prouver mon mensonge.

-Il n’y a pas de problème.

-J’espère que vous ne donnez pas d’importance à ce qu’il vous a dit, par ailleurs.

-Vous voulez dire quand il a dit que je n’ai pas de muscle ? Il disait la vérité.

-Quand il a dit que vous n’étiez pas un vrai homme, précises-tu. C’est ce genre d’homme qui n’en n’est pas. Ils n’arrêtent pas de jouer les gros bras, à agir comme s’ils savaient mieux que nous ce que nous voulions alors qu’ils ne sont même pas capable de comprendre quelque chose d’aussi simple qu’un “non”. Contrairement à lui, vous le comprenez, ça devrait être le strict minimum des choses à faire, mais je ne connais pas beaucoup d’hommes qui font attention à ce qu’on dit. De plus, vous êtes venu m’aider alors que d’autres auraient détourné les yeux.

-Je suis sûr que, si ça n’avait pas été moi, quelqu’un d’autre serait intervenu, te contredit Steve.

-J’en doute. Ce genre de situation m’est arrivé quelques fois et à chaque fois, j’ai dû me débrouiller toute seule. Et comme vous avez pu le voir, certains policiers ne nous prennent pas au sérieux avant qu’un autre ne confirme notre histoire. Alors, sincèrement, merci d’être venu, même si vous devez sûrement le regretter maintenant.

-Je serais venu dans tous les cas. Je déteste les brutes. Je ne pouvais pas rester sans rien faire, affirme-t-il, honnêtement.

-On aurait besoin de plus d’hommes comme vous, Steve.

Quand tu finis ta phrase, vous arrivez chez lui. Vous restez en bas de son immeuble, un silence gênant prenant de nouveau place. Steve ignore si tu veux rentrer avec lui ou repartir tout de suite. Quant à toi, tu ne sais pas si tu peux le laisser ici ou si tu peux l’accompagner jusqu’à sa porte, sans donner l’impression d’agir comme une mère poule. En observant avec plus d’attention Steve, tu te rends compte que tu le trouves plutôt mignon. Tu aimerais pouvoir faire plus ample connaissance avec lui. Tu t’apprêtes à lui dire quelque chose quand une voix inconnue te devance.

-Hey, imbécile !

Instantanément, tu te tends, craignant l’apparition d’un autre homme cherchant les problèmes. En remarquant le changement dans ta posture, Steve te rassure :

-Ne vous inquiétez pas, c’est seulement mon meilleur ami.

-Oh, d’accord.

-Qu’est-ce qu’il y a, crétin ?

Bucky est sur le point de lui répliquer quelque chose quand il voit le visage de Steve. Il soupire de frustration et roule ses yeux.

-Ne me dis pas que t’as encore provoqué une bagarre ?

-C’est de ma faute, en fait, interviens-tu. Un homme ne voulait pas me laisser tranquille et Steve s’est interposé.

En te voyant, Bucky ne peut s’empêcher de sortir son sourire le plus charmeur.

-Pour une fois, c’est pour une bonne raison. Bucky Barnes, mademoiselle, se présente-t-il en embrassant le dos de ta main.

-Y/N Y/L/N, enchantée. Que voulez-vous dire par “pour une fois” ? le questionnes-tu, ne comprenant pas.

-Steve, ici présent, a la mauvaise habitude de toujours chercher la bagarre.

-Vous ne devriez pas, Steve. Vous valez bien mieux que ça.

-Merci ! s’exclame Bucky avec un regard insistant vers Steve. J’espère qu’il écoutera enfin.

-Avez-vous besoin d’aide pour nettoyer vos plaies ? demandes-tu à Steve avec un regard inquiet.

-Non merci, je peux m’en occuper. Vous devriez rentrer, vous avez fait un détour pour me ramener.

-Très bien. Encore merci, Steve. S’il y a quoique ce soit que je puisse faire pour vous rendre la pareille, n’hésitez pas, annonces-tu avec un sourire. Passez une bonne soirée et faites attention à vous.

Tu fais un signe de tête à Bucky pour le saluer et quittes les deux hommes. Steve te regarde partir pendant que Bucky analyse le visage de son meilleur ami. Un sourire entendu prend plus sur son visage en comprenant que tu as tapé dans l'œil de Steve. Quand ce dernier ne te voit plus, il repose son attention sur Bucky. Il fronce les sourcils en voyant l’expression de son ami.

-Quoi ?

-Tu es complètement épris d’elle.

-Pas du tout, contredit Steve en détournant le regard. Je l’ai aidée comme je l’aurais fait avec n’importe qui.

-Ça, je veux bien le croire, tu provoquerais une bagarre parce que quelqu’un respirait trop fort, mais je ne t’avais jamais vu regarder une femme de cette façon.

-Elle est belle, je ne peux pas le nier, mais ça s’arrête là. Et puis, je pourrais la regarder de cette façon, comme tu dis, le fait est que ce n’est sûrement pas son cas, affirme-t-il, les mots résonnant dans sa tête malgré lui.

-Tu n’as clairement pas fait attention à ses yeux. Je suis sûr que si je n’étais pas arrivée, tu aurais même eu le droit à un bisou sur la joue avant qu’elle parte. Elle n’a presque même pas fait attention à moi.

-Bien sûr, rigole Steve, ne le croyant pas. Bon, on rentre ? Je dois m’occuper de tout ça, finit-il en pointant son visage.

Une semaine plus tard, tu es devant la porte de chez Steve. Tu tiens une tarte aux pommes que tu as faite un peu plus tôt. Tu t’assures que ton gâteau et ta tenue soient parfaits avant de frapper à la porte. Tu resserres ton emprise sur ta tarte, appréhendant la réaction de Steve. Quand il apparaît devant toi, il est d’abord surpris de te voir avant de te sourire tendrement. Quant à toi, tu ne peux t’empêcher de regarder rapidement l’évolution de ses blessures sur son visage. Son oeil au beurre noir est presque guéri alors que ses autres coupures sont encore plus ou moins visibles. Tu te racles la gorge avant de prendre la parole.

-Bonjour, Steve. Désolée de vous déranger, je souhaitais venir vous remercier comme il faut, pour la dernière fois, alors je vous ai fait ceci, informes-tu en tendant ton gâteau. Je ne suis pas une pâtissière hors pair, mais je réussis plutôt bien les tartes aux pommes.

-Vous n’aviez pas à vous casser la tête, ‘merci’ était amplement suffisant.

-Peut-être, mais je voulais le faire. J’espère que vous allez aimer.

-Je n’en doute pas, t’assure-t-il.

-Je dois y aller. J’espère que j’aurais l’occasion de vous revoir pour avoir votre avis, souris-tu.

-Je l’espère également.

Sans réfléchir, tu fais un pas dans sa direction et poses tes lèvres sur sa joue gauche. Pris de court, il ne réagit pas. Tu lui souris une dernière fois avant de partir en lui faisant un geste de la main pendant que Steve reste sur le pas de la porte. Il ne bouge pas pendant une minute jusqu’à ce que Bucky apparaisse derrière lui, un sourire nargueur au visage.

-Tu l’avais, ton occasion parfaite pour lui proposer un rendez-vous, précise-t-il en faisant référence à une ancienne discussion. Bon, en attendant que tu reviennes sur Terre, je vais prendre ça, moi, ajoute Bucky en prenant la tarte des mains de Steve, et le goûter.

Étonnement, Steve ne réagit pas, pensant encore à tes lèvres sur sa joue. Bucky a le temps de retourner dans la cuisine et prendre un couteau avant que Steve reprenne ses esprits et interdise son meilleur ami de toucher à sa tarte.

Tu es venue donner ta tarte à Steve il y a deux semaines. Depuis, tu ne l’as pas revu. Tu ne te fais pas d’illusion. Tu as rencontré Steve par hasard la première fois et il ne connait pas ton adresse donc, ta seule option pour le voir à nouveau serait de retourner chez lui, mais tu ne veux pas passer pour la fille collante. Par conséquent, tu es à peu près sûre que tu n’auras jamais la chance de le recroiser.

Tu es en train de marcher en direction de la librairie proche de chez toi quand tu entends quelqu’un attirer ton attention. T’imaginant que c’est encore un homme lambda, tu roules seulement des yeux et continues de marcher. Toutefois, quand Steve est devant toi, haletant, tu t’arrêtes. Steve reprend doucement sa respiration alors que tu le regardes avec inquiétude et remarques qu’il y a encore seulement une ou deux blessures que tu peux voir au premier abord. Quand tu es sûre qu’il va bien, après qu’il se soit redressé en face de toi, tu as les yeux pétillants de joie.

-Steve, je ne t’avais pas vu !

-Ce n’est pas grave. J’aurais dû me douter que tu ne te serais pas retournée en entendant ma voix. Je voulais juste te dire que ta tarte était délicieuse, te confesse-t-il et tu souris. J’ai même dû la cacher à mon meilleur ami pour être sûr de la manger entièrement.

-S’il veut, je peux très bien lui en faire une. Contente qu’elle vous ait plus.

En regardant Steve avec plus d’attention, tu vois qu’il a quelque chose en tête, mais qu’il n’ose pas te le partager.

-Est-ce tout ce que tu veux me dire ? interroges-tu avec une voix douce.

-Non, en fait, répond-il avant de faire une pause d’une seconde. Écoute, je sais qu’on ne se connait pas réellement, mais je voulais savoir si tu aimerais aller au cinéma avec moi, un de ces jours. Bien évidemment, tu peux refuser ! Ne te sens pas obligée de dire “oui”.

-Ça serait avec plaisir, déclares-tu, le faisant sourire. Il y a une séance demain, dans la soirée, ça te conviendrait ?

-Parfait.

Rapidement, tu ouvres ton sac et prends un crayon et un bout de papier. Dès que tu as terminé d’écrire, tu le tends à Steve.

-C’est mon adresse, expliques-tu alors qu’il prend le papier. Tu peux venir me chercher à dix-huit heures ? Ainsi nous pourrons parler dans un café avant d’aller au cinéma, proposes-tu avec espoir.

-Je serai là.

Tu veux lui embrasser la joue à nouveau, mais tu ne fais rien, la présence des passants te retenant. Tu fais seulement un sourire chaleureux à Steve avant de t'éloigner de lui, la joie au ventre, car en plus de le revoir, tu as un rendez-vous avec un homme respectable.

Marvel Masterlist

{Ceci est mon blog secondaire donc je répondrai aux commentaires sous le pseudo @marie-sworld}

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blackjackmagi83 · 2 years

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Criminal Behavior (9)

Masterlist

WC: 3.7k

Pairing: Druglords Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes X Detective Original Female Character

Summary: Rose Phillips, one of the best vice detectives in the game, was given a mission to catch the biggest drug lord in all of New York. James Buchanan Barnes. Framing as a lady of the night at a hidden gentlemen’s club, her mission being to do anything it takes to lure her target into her trap. Even if it means going through one of his accomplices to get there. Will the notorious criminals fall for her trap or will Rose fall for their criminal behavior?

Warnings: Lots of swearing, violence, and mild sexual content.

Note: I'm so so sorry this took me so long to finish/post! I have struggled with writers block and finding my next step with this story so I took a bit of a break for my own sanity. I also didn't want to rush this chapter like I did with the last and be displeased with it, I can't stand being upset with my work like that too often. Plus I have fallen victim to the powers of the men of starwars. I've been a whore for Anakin as of late and I just can't control it right now I'm sorry (Can you blame me though).

Also please ignore how god awful my made up names are in this, I'm so bad at naming characters.

Hope you enjoy the chapter ♡

Rose was falling endlessly it seemed, her body calm and numb as she plunged further into nothingness. It was blissful . Until the black warmth that surrounded her turned into a memory, forced to be forgotten and locked away in a vault to never be opened again. Or so she wanted to think. Her body contorted to match the one that was pictured in front of her, reliving it through her younger self's eyes. She couldn’t move or speak, she could only watch and listen.

The organ weeped along the church walls up to the stained glass windows, it’s tears seeping into the stale carpet. The oak casket was lined with a childhood blanket, soft and warm. The opposite of who was laid to rest in it, undeserving of such a kindness. But she was once someone’s child. Born innocent until corruption seeped into her veins like a disease, rotting the purity that was held at one moment or another.

She looked so peaceful, hands resting over each other on her chest, eyes closed as if she was soundly sleeping. Innocent almost. This must’ve been what she always looked like before morphine and whiskey were her only companions, everyone fleeing before it was too late. A chance Rose dreamt of often.

An old aching hand warmed her left shoulder but her eyes remained on the sleeping corpse, “She would’ve been so proud Roselyn.”

Roselyn Evangeline Phillips. A stupid name she always thought, she sounded like a ballerina princess you’d read in story books before bedtime. Delicate, frail, precious. Rose was none of that. Maybe when she was a child but she too was corrupted by the same demons her parents were taken by. Relying on the devil’s gifts to cope with the loss of a childhood and love everyone deserves at one point in their lifetime before choosing the poison to take later on to their own demise. It was her grandfather who pulled her out of her high daze, pumping her lungs with clean air and giving her the structure her body and mental state seeked. That’s where her passion started. Her determination to eliminate as much of the toxins that she let flow into them. If they didn’t exist, then things would’ve been different. She wouldn’t be standing over the corpse of her mother, filled with putty and other chemicals to cover the scars and caved in veins. She’d be showing them a ring, proudly showed off by her husband to their families, maybe even announce they were pregnant with the first grandchild. But it was too late for such delusions.

The memory shifted, contorting into another memory with its hands still gripped tightly around her consciousness.

The cot creaked beneath Rose’s body as she laid back, melting against the woven cloth that the academy labeled as a mattress. It was something most would need to grow used to but Rose was experienced with sleeping on less than comfortable surfaces. It beat the cold concrete floors that sent a chill to her bones, especially during the winter months. She didn’t complain.

“Well looky here boys, we got ourselves a dead one.”

Joseph Parkerson. An obnoxious fuck who like most of the men she trained with, believed was a hot shot with the biggest dick and balls around the compound. And the biggest perv she’s dealt with so far.

Rose's arm blocked her eyes from the bunch, but she could hear the heaviness of his boots stop next to her, "Piss off peewee."

His vile breath fanned across her face, failing at the intimidating approach he sought for, "What did I tell you about calling me that?"

Rose forced her body upright to create some distance from him, her patience was wearing painfully thin already, "Just naming the facts Joseph. Not my fault you got one that lacks an impression."

"You would know of course. You'd take anything to get where you need to go Philips." Ralph, she thought his name was, snickered close by, probably with his paperstick arms crossed against his chest. He was a lanky guy, all height with little to no muscle. A wonder how he survived the brutal training this far.

There was another man or boy she should say. Barely looked 16 with his short height and innocent looking baby face. He was quiet amongst the other two. Must be a new arrival. When first arriving they were either loud and cocky or quiet and hid behind the others shadows. It was clear he was the follower type. Focused on mere survival without having a panic attack in the process. Such a shame. The quiet ones became the most corrupt, fueled to prove their worth by any means. He seemed like a decent kid.

"Even if I was begging for something, wouldn't you think I'd pick someone a bit bigger? I do have some standards.", Rose pinched her fingers in demonstration, holding back the giggle she so badly wanted to let out. She didn't do a good job as her fellow trainee twisted with anger, watching as she hunched over with laughter.

He took advantage of her position, snaking his hand behind her head, knotting in her hair to get her locked in place, "Not tonight you don't."

He tilted his head to the side, silently ordering the two closer while his free hand clumsily fumbled with his belt and pants before his fingers teased the waistband of his boxers. He had this sadistic stare that washed over his face as he mapped out the spots he’d release on her face. A humiliation he knew she’d never live down.

The two accomplices wrapped their filth riddled fingers around her arms, forcing her on her knees, the back of her cot. She could feel the young boy's hands shaking, barely gripping onto her. She felt pity for him, hiding behind these goons just to get through each day without getting beaten too badly himself. Ralph on the other hand had an iron grip, twisting her skin enough to burn and sting. It'd be bruised by morning.

Ralph was panting in anticipation at the thought of watching someone get throat fucked right before he had a go himself. Rose wanted to turn towards the shaking boy, tell him to run while he could, that the depressed, high inducing future wasn’t worth it but she couldn’t take her eyes from the enemy standing before her. She was afraid he’d take advantage of her distracted state again.

Joseph let himself spring out in front of her, edging himself closer to her face, "Now, let's see what else that pretty mouth could do."

"M-maybe we should stop, this is going a bit far isn't it?" The boy was glancing anxiously between the two, his fingers barely touching her now. She noted the opportunity arising as his grip lacked and grew sweaty by the minutes.

A disgusting glint coated Joseph’s eye as he spoke to the boy, his hand never stopping his stroke, "Stop being a fucking pussy Peter, you'll get your turn when me and Ralphy boy here are done. Bitch needs a little warming up first."

Rose pushed against their grip, putting an inch of added space between them, "You put that piece of mold anywhere near my mouth, I will rip it off along with your balls." Her teeth gritted for a better effect, her eyes watching as his pupils became saucers.

He scoffed to cover the shudder that ran down his spine, "You'd be kicked out. You wouldn't dare ruin your chance at becoming a detective."

Her head tilted, her hair falling against her face getting stuck on her lips as the corners turned upward, "Oh but being the general's granddaughter does come with its privileges. Like you said, I'd do anything to get where I needed to hmm?" She leaned forward towards his deflating member, eyes gazing up innocently, "Still want to try? Or are you thinking about my canines shredding the only thing that makes you feel good about your pathetic perverted self?"

The man didn't respond, he simply gazed down at her, flaccid and stunned by the images running through his head. The others grew still and quiet as well, any excitement built up now gone, tucking themselves as far as their body would let them.

The boy ran at that point, tail tucked between his legs with a trail of piss following behind him. Poor thing won't last long here.

Rose took advantage of the missing grip, grabbing the pen knife she had tucked inside her boot, drilling it deep into Ralph's leg. It was a toy compared to what they trained with but it did enough to get the grown man whimpering on the floor. The sounds sent a wave of pleasure through her. She could already see the small puddle forming on the floor. She’d take her time cleaning it up later, reminiscing about everything playing out right now.

Joseph, still frozen in place with his pants hanging from his knees, barely had time to react before Rose wrapped her hands around his arms, locking his body in front of her with his face pressing into the cement wall. Her nails dug crescent moons into his flesh, threatening the skin to ooze with iron liquid as she pressed his face harder against the surface. The mere thought added another kick to her adrenaline rush.

Her hand toyed with his buzzed hair, petting it like one would a dog before her fingers stuck onto his scalp and throwing his face forward. The satisfying crack of cartilage nearly made her moan out in triumph, "I'd like you to think long and hard about this night peewee. If you even think of speaking or touching me the way you or your little boy toys just did, I promise you that losing your dick will be merciful compared to what other things I could do to you. Tell that to your little buddies on the other block while you're at it. I don't like to repeat myself."

None of them dared to touch her again after that, let alone look her way. It's all she wanted. To be alone and unbothered. Less people to get in her way.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

James let go of Rose's purpling throat, turning towards Steve with that same lifeless eye he had given her. Internally, James was fighting a battle of his own. Flashbacks to the torture he was put through was fueling the soldier, forcing his body to lash out at the intruder. Steve was nothing but an obstacle in his way, preventing him from completing his mission.

Steve has been through these episodes numerous times since they rescued James but his last one was years ago. A challenge he was in no mood or shape for at that moment. With a hand held out like approaching a scared animal, he slowly stepped forward, “Bucky, listen to my voice.”

The challenge had proved further difficult as James surged forward landing a punch straight to his jaw with unbelievable force, launching Steve through the wall leading into the spare bedroom.

"Alright, so that's how it's going to be."

Rose tried to watch the two battle it out but struggled as she coughed and inhaled harshly, making her dizzy and nauseous from the rush of oxygen to her brain. She felt herself waving in and out of consciousness once again.

As Rose laid blacked out among the lacquered floor, Steve and James destroyed everything in their paths. Glass and wood splinters coated the floorboards from broken furniture and memorabilia. The occasional splatters of blood smearing beneath their feet from exposed flesh being torn open from the splinterings and skin connecting with skin, backed by inhumane amounts of power and determination. Their faces were littered with bruises and blood as they relentlessly beat each other, both fighting to pin the other.

Steve had managed to pin him down against the counter, pressing his forearm against his chest long enough to grunt out, “I’m with you till the end of the line.”

James’s body froze at the words. They sparked something within the soldier’s mind. Familiarity. A brotherly comfort. He blinked as memories of drunken nights and childhood laughter filled his brain, the soldier sinking as more pooled within the darkness.

“Steve.”

His arm didn't budge against the soldier, “Which Bucky am I talking to?”

He kept quiet for a moment, his brows furrowing as the gears turned in his head to bring forth a valid memory, “Your mom’s name was Sarah.”, A breathless chuckle rasped past his lips, “You used to wear newspaper in your shoes to make you look taller. It worked until it started to rain.”

Steve’s grip went slack, his body staggering backwards as he let it relax. The ache of the battle was starting to set in as the serum aided in healing the wounds, “Welcome back Buck, sure did a number on me this time.”

James didn't copy the teasing smile or breathless laughs Steve put out, his expression remained stone like as he did a look over at the apartment, torn to pieces and unsalvageable.

The vibranium cooled his burning skin as he ran it along his face, rubbing at his eyes till he saw spots, “Oh god I knew this would happen again. I told you it’d never go away Steve. My past will always come back.”

A cautious hand rested at the top of his bare sweat coated shoulder, "If we could get through it once, we can get through it again. Just takes time and patience, Buck."

James gave him an unamused glare, he was tired of those words. It made it sound too simple. Easy to deal with like recovering from an injury. Go to physical therapy till it works enough and then relapse a few years later, repeat until you get so fed up with expenses and failed effort, leaving it be to brittle and rot away with the rest of your body. But this was more than an injury. This was a masterminded persona etched inside his brain, a whole other person forced to share the body he once fully claimed as his with. Even with the soldier dormant, James could feel him present constantly. Leering over his shoulder at every move he made, every dangerous thought that entered his mind. He didn't need the words to trigger an episode anymore, enough stress could pull it off now. He learned that trick the hard way, similar to what had happened now but with someone that wasn’t his own. Someone far more damaging not to himself but to another..The guilt of it all remained buried along with the image of the body and the horror of the truth coming to the surface sooner than he’d like.

He had managed to contain it for a few years since that incident but seeing the truth come out in such a manner threw him in the deep end, he didn’t have enough in him to contain the weapon lodged inside any longer. Fuck was this such an avoidable mess if he had been more careful and saw the signs that were painstakingly obvious at this point. The soldier in him wanted to snap her neck, get it all over with before it festered any longer but the human side still couldn’t wrap around the truth. The woman he wanted so badly to drop dead was the same woman he had laid beneath him with that little nickname he'd given her whispering between his lips. The woman that made the cold spot in him begin to warm, turning the bitter bite he held into a mere nip. At least towards her. He's never grown fond of a woman as much as Rose, even before the war. It made him feel betrayed and hollow in his chest. Was it a game? A sick joke for money? No, he doubted that thought. Was she working for someone, a competitor? He wanted that one to be wrong but it lingered among the rest. These questions circled his already throbbing head, his hands gripping at his temples in attempts to comfort it enough to not throw up.

Steve rubbed at his back soothingly but James shrugged it off, "I'm fine Steve. It's you who should get a look over. You can barely stand."

Steve rolled his shoulders, wincing at the crack his right one made as it popped back into the socket, "Please, I can do this all day."

A crackling gasp broke apart their conversation, eyes locking on the curled figure in the entrance of the hallway. Rose.

The way her bones gritted and cracked reminded Rose of her first week of training. The drill sergeant made an obstacle course from hell the night prior, pushing all trainees through it at least four times before combat training took place. Her fighting was one of the worst of the group, her stance unbalanced and muscle build was next to nothing compared to the grown men she was put against. She was only nineteen, her body still recovering from a relapse a year prior which caused her to struggle with muscle and weight gain. It didn't help that being the general's granddaughter put her in a spot that was less than comfortable, adding onto the stress she had stacked on top of her. The expectations were constricting, tightening around her the more she disappointed and failed. But she proved them all wrong. The day she broke the drill sergeant's eye socket, will be a day she'll never forget.

Rose smiled at the memory, the cracking sound still echoing in her ear as she hunched further into a ball, coughing up what felt like a lung. This severity of damage called for a heavy drink and a pack of smokes when she gets back to her apartment. Maybe even watch some soap operas if it gets any worse later on. The cringe worthy writing and acting steered her away from the pulsing aches while the drink took the sting away. Smoking was just for comfort.

She groaned as she lifted her body into a sitting position using the wall for support, tears springing along the rims of her lids from the pain shooting up the back of her head. Thank god he didn't break her neck or she'd be screaming bloody murder but that didn't make what she was feeling any better. Her skull felt like it was getting split apart while her throat grew more sore with every swallow. If she didn't get stared at before she certainly would now, no amount of makeup will be able to cover the darkness that wrapped around her upper chest. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Warmth encased her, easing the chill that had run throughout her body. Steve. She'd known it was him by the way he held her and the signature scent of his cologne that wafted through her nose. A part of her filled with joy at his return while the other fought the monsters of anxiety and fear from the event that just took place, crumbling in his arms.

Steve held her quivering body against him, soaking in the feeling of having her in his arms again. He only wished it wasn't under these circumstances, "It's ok, I got you darling."

Rose's body betrayed her, the tears that sat along the rim, now loosely dripping down her cheeks. So many emotions were coursing through her, it was too overwhelming. She'd let herself have this moment without judgment this time. Only this time she’d like to think but with the way her course had changed, she highly doubted it’d be the last time she’d run into hydra’s creation.

Her teary eyes finally had the courage to gaze up at James, the blue now returned and full of shame as he looked back at her. The confident woman who melted like putty in his hands over the course of a few weeks now looked at him as if he was a nightmare lurking in the shadows. She couldn't hide it from him no matter the front she put up. It was a skill he taught himself to acquire. A shield of confidence covered the terror cowering behind it. The kind of terror he liked seeing in his victims before their end. But this time it wasn't satisfying. It was shameful. James Barnes had lived up to his name once again but to the one person he wished never had to see it. Yet another problem the winter soldier has caused. Another person taken by his vibranium fingers.

At that moment, Rose began to realize the reason behind the connection she had felt between the two. That same adrenaline rush she had felt when she stabbed Ralph Nickleson and threatened Joseph Parkerson at the academy, was the same as when they played with their victims. A haunting demon they all had lingering in them, waiting for that moment of freedom to soak in the fear and blood that came with the damage they caused. How their victim squirmed and dripped with sweat, maybe even soil their pants with urine or other bodily fluids. Whichever it was, only added to the emotion beating through them. A sadistic high that was hard to come off of.

Rose had never become sober all those years ago. She found something harder than the morphine. A high that burned on the torment of others she felt were inferior to her that greatened with the glory that backed behind it. Maybe they were more alike than they had thought. Steve was blind to it all still, wanting to forget the pain Captain America caused in the back alleyway a couple hours prior and come home just as Steve Rogers, America's sweetheart. But James held that knowing look in his eyes since their beginning. The kind of look one gives when they see something that is so familiar it sticks out like a sore thumb but can't quite put their tongue on it right away either.

James knew since then that she was as fucked up and corrupt as they were. She just didn't see it until now.

Part 10

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wrctings · 3 years

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Pre-serum Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes | Let your heart be light

fandom: Marvel Univers characters: Pre-serum Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes summary: Where Steve and his mom spend Christmas Eve’s at the Barnes’s, Bucky takes a nap and Steve draws him. word count: 1.7k

writing a christmas one shot in february isn’t too late, right? i missed 30s steve and buck so of course i had to write some fluff <3

New York City, Christmas 1935

When the two boys slid their shivering frames through the doorway, shaking off the snowflakes caught in their hair and coats as they took the latter off, the first thing to welcome them was the delicious waft of food which had enveloped the entire apartment, the perky jingling of cutlery that emanated from the kitchen accounting for the fact that an active cooking activity was indeed taking place in there. Their cheeks rosy from the piercing cold and their breath short from having spent the afternoon out in the snow, they untied their shoes, leaving them in the corridor, and proceeded to the living room, where the warmth radiating off the crackling fireplace eased the prickling of their skin at once.

“Mom, we’re back!” Bucky announced, heading for the kitchen, Steve in his wake. “How are you? It smells so good in here!”

“We were wondering when you boys would come back and give us a hand,” Mrs Barnes gave them a smile, shaking her head. “It’s all fine. We should always make joined Christmas dinners, it’s a lot less exhausting than doing it yourself for the whole family,” she added gratefully, glancing at Sarah, who nodded in approval.

“Are you okay darling?” The blond woman caringly asked Steve, who reassured her with a light-hearted nod.

“If there’s anything we can do, we’ll be glad to help,” he then assured voluntarily, earning an affectionate look from the two women.

“Actually, I have a feeling you’ll cause more trouble than anything…” One of Bucky’s sisters retorted humorously.

“That may not be wrong…,” the brunet boy conceded sheepishly, eyeing all the culinary supplies suspiciously.

“Maybe you could dress the table, how about that?” Mrs Barnes proposed an alternative. “It’s a little too early now, but we’ll call you when it’s the right time. For the time being, why don’t you go put some records on?”

“Sure!”

“Steve, stay close to the fireplace!” The other boy’s mom called after her son as Bucky and Steve took off, shaking her head fondly as the blond promised that she didn’t have to worry (although he had barely recovered from a cold). “Kids…” Sarah muttered, sharing a knowing glance with Winnifred, who could only chuckle. “But at least they look after one another.”

“Thank God,” the brunette woman laughed, rolling her eyes. “Sometimes I wonder whether that causes less or more trouble.”

Meanwhile, Steve and Bucky set to complete the task that they had been asked to undertake. Rummaging through the music collection of the Barnes with great care, Steve selected a record which Bucky then placed upon the turntable, sparking up the soft whirring of the record player while he was cautiously manipulating the needle. A few seconds later, the merry tune of a Christmas song erupted from the device, taking over the far-off clattering and voices coming from the kitchen with smooth notes of jazz that swirled through the room.

“There we go,” a satisfied smile played upon Bucky’s lips, the young man letting himself tumble on the nearby couch with a deep sigh. “I feel like I could take a nap just now…,” he breathed out, lazily stretching out his arms while letting his head fall backwards against the backrest.

“Tired already?” Steve raised a daring eyebrow, teasing his friend with his usual playfulness.

“Shut up,” without even looking, Bucky grabbed a pillow and threw it toward the other boy’s voice, but missed the target. “How the hell do you still have energy?”

“I don’t, I just pretend,” the blond actually confessed, shrugging as he laughed. He never had to play pretend with Bucky, who always accepted him the way he was, no matter whether he caught Steve on a painful day of suffering from sickness, had to come to his rescue in a fight or simply met with him to hang out. Plus, his best friend had seen him in dire straits one too many times to unnecessarily play tough. “Alright, you take a nap, I’ll get my sketchbook.”

“Wake me up if I happen to actually drift off,” Bucky mumbled, momentarily straightening up just so he could cuddle up to the cushion set in the corner where the armrest and the backrest formed an angle. Through half-closed eyelids, he noticed Steve taking a seat on the floor and flick through the pages of his sketchbook, the flames happily waltzing in the chimney behind him sending glimmering beams across the young man’s shirt and skin, their reflection playing in the golden strands of hair that brushed his forehead as he craned his neck, concentrated on his sketch.

Lulled by the gay rhythm of the music and the regular, soft sound of his friend’s pen scraping a piece of paper, Bucky feared that he in truth might just doze off, the both peaceful and jolly atmosphere of the room exacerbating his body’s will to rest. However, there was no way he was going to leave Steve alone on Christmas evening, especially since they spent it together this year, so Bucky fought sleepiness back by trying to keep his mind awake. Just a few minutes, he told himself, I’ll rest for a little bit, then I’ll be ready to celebrate.

Since the early December evening had already dawned, the room would’ve been bathed in darkness if not for the chirping chimney and the bright lights that had been turned on, making it easier for Bucky not to let his thoughts succumb to the strain of his body. He wondered whether his family would like the gifts he got them, but especially if Steve would — since Bucky had more money, he always tried to get his friend a present that he would be particularly fond of for Christmas, and he knew that Steve would also do his best to offer him something nice in return, though with more limited means. But most importantly, Bucky was merely glad and excited to spend the 24th of December surrounded by everyone he loved most, especially since Steve and his mother were joining them around the table this year. In the end, gifts mattered little.

“Why the hell didn’t you wake me up?” Running a hand over his face, Bucky groaned while blinking several times, struggling to adjust his clouded sight to the lighting of the living room. It turned out that keeping oneself awake was quite a difficult task, even when one might tell themselves that their lively thoughts would keep their distracted from the lure of slumber. “What time is it?”

“Don’t worry Buck, it’s only been fifteen minutes,” Steve reassured him distractedly, still hunched over his drawing. “It’s nearly seven.”

Pushing himself away from the armrest of the couch, Bucky’s fingers tangled in his hair as he tried to make it sit properly, pushing loose brown strands off his forehead. Only fifteen minutes, that was acceptable. He yawned into the back of his hand, stretching his back, then swung his legs onto the floor and bent forward, trying to get a glimpse of Steve’s doodles — his gaze landed on the outline of a sofa, on which he recognised his own silhouette.

“You know I’m gonna become famous too if you do, right? I’m your number one drawing reference, at this point.” He joked, but the soft glow of his eyes, from either remnants of sleepiness or fondness, made it seem like he was actually both touched and impressed.

“It’s not my fault if you fall asleep on my watch. What do you want me to do? For once, something stays still while I’m sketching, I gotta make most of it.”

It took Steve another few minutes to come to end of his sketch of a sleepy Bucky, fixing the shadows playing in the folds of his friend’s clothes as his pencil adroitly glided across the paper. Bucky, still towering over the blond, kept on watching him draw above Steve’s shoulder, having always been fasciated by the way his friend could so beautifully make images come to life out of nothingness — no matter how much the other boy would get frustrated over a doodle that he struggled with, Bucky knew that it would still be infinitely better than anything most people could come up with. Seeing the curves and edges of his own body forming such meticulous shapes under Steve’s fingertips, the brunet felt like he had caught his own self plunged in a slumber; as if time had turned back to just minutes ago, and he could witness his reflection laying on the couch.

“Alright.” After one last stroke of a pen, Steve held the sketchbook up, analysing the outcome. Bucky could tell that he wasn’t disappointed with the result as the young man put it back down, not getting another hold of his pencil either. “You’re not still sleepy, are you?” He then turned around to give Bucky a quick smile, emerging out of the state of concentration that had taken over him while he was drawing.

“No, I’m not. It’s time for celebration now!” His friend retorted energetically, alluding to the festive Christmas tree that had been set in a corner of the room, the few colourful decorations tangled up in its branches and the golden star at its top gleaming as light ricocheted off them.

With a brief glance at the window, Bucky noticed that the snowfall had grown even stronger, thick and fluffy snowflakes coating the entire street and delicate flowers of frost already starting to spring upon the panes, adorning them with whimsical motives.

“Boys!”

Before Steve and Bucky had time to do anything else, Mrs Barnes’s voice reached them from the kitchen, rising above the music that had continued playing.

“Boys, come and set the table!”

“On it!” Her son shouted back, not a single trouble weighing his heart down as the only think he could focus on was this special night, full of the joy and warmth of sharing it with all the people dearest to him. “Shall we?” He took a look at Steve, unable to suppress a wholesome smile that he just couldn’t contain. And he didn’t want to.

“We shall,” his friend agreed, smiling back. “First to get to the kitchen wins?” and, before Bucky could answer, the blond was off.

“Steve, you have asthma!” was all that Bucky could yell after him, laughing as he trailed behind, however catching up fast.

“But I’m winning!”

A very merry Christmas indeed.

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barnesmurdock · 2 years

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You go to my head.

Pairing: Pre-serum!Steve x tall!fem!reader

Summary: Bucky can't stop flirting with Becca's best friend's sister but, turns out she has her mind set on someone else.

Word count: 3890

Warnings: Fluff, insecure Steve, mentions of Steve being colorblind and not hearing well, flirty Bucky but he's actually a good bro, alcohol consumption.

A/N: The title references a Billie Holiday song that I think fits with this fic, if you wanna give it a listen. Sorry if this is too self indulgent, I'm just a tall girl in love with Steve Rogers 🥴

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you enjoyed it <3

Masterlist

“Whaddya think, green or blue?” Bucky asked a bored Steve, showing him two ties. He was dragging his best friend to a dancehall again and this time they didn’t even have dates.

“Buck ya know I’m colorblind, right? I’m no help with that." Steve sighed, resting his elbow on the dining table to rest his head on his hand.

"Right, sorry…" The brunette sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "I'll go ask ma."

"Ma will say the blue one, she always picks that one, James." Rebecca commented as she passed by the two boys, carrying some games in her hands.

"Well, then. Which one would ya choose, Bex?" Bucky raised his voice so it would reach his little sister.

"I don't care!"

"Y'know, if you can't decide, we could just stay here." Steve suggested, well aware Bucky wasn't going to agree to that, but hopeful nonetheless. He wasn't in the mood for another night of nursing a coke while Bucky flirted with someone.

The doorbell interrupted their conversation and, before Bucky could reply, his mom's voice asked him from the kitchen to open the door.

"Well, if it isn't the most beautiful dame in New York…" Bucky flashed a smile at the eldest of the two girls in front of him." … And you're here too. Becca's in her room." He informed your sister.

"Hi, Bucky." You responded to the brunette with a polite smile, unphased by his comment. "I just came to drop this bug, Becca invited her for a sleepover."

"In that case, please come in." He moved to the side to let you in, your sister simply passing by him, then Steve, who she waved politely before running off to her friend's room.

"She didn't even say goodbye." You huffed and rolled your eyes, making Bucky chuckle.

"Hey, you can come in too." He gestured with his hand. He knew you were about to decline, so he rushed to say, "I need someone with taste to help me pick a tie. No one in this house is being helpful."

You sighed and made a face, but you ultimately agreed and came in, your breath hitching after finding Bucky's best friend sitting right in front of you.

You'd always found Steve Rogers handsome, with his big bright blue eyes and his beautiful lips, his permanently rosy cheeks. Ugh, you couldn't help but steal every glance you could at him every time you encountered Bucky with him attached to the hip.

Steve rushed to sit straight when he saw you coming in, nervously flattening his tie. Bucky was right, you were the most beautiful dame in New York. If you asked Steve, you probably were the most beautiful dame in the whole damn country. The two of you never actually had a conversation, most of your interactions were with Bucky, since your sisters were best friends. He relentlessly tried to flirt with you and you dismissed him every time, which was certainly amusing for Steve to watch. Refreshing, almost.

"Hi, Steve!" You offered him a genuine smile, approaching the table where he was seated to inspect the ties.

"H-hi." He managed to reply looking up to your face, brushing his hair out of his face.

"Couldn't you help him with the ties?" You eyed the blushing blonde sitting to your left.

"I'm colorblind, so… nope." He sighed self deprecatingly, giving you an awkward tight lipped smile.

"Oh, that's fine." You leaned towards him to get closer to his ear. "It's always this one, though." You whispered before stepping back, showing him the blue tie and winking at him before turning to hand it to Bucky.

"Would you be a doll and do the knot for me?" Bucky asked, pouting at you half flirting, half trying to piss you off, which he knew was easier than his flirting working.

You rolled for eyes at him but did the stupid knot, just to shut him up.

"So… where are you two headed?" You asked, looking at Steve and ignoring Bucky's beaming smile. Yes, Bucky was handsome, really handsome. Like, almost painful to watch. But you he just didn't do it for you. You didn't like the arrogance, the overconfidence he had. And you were well aware he didn't want anything actually serious. He was just a flirt. So, you weren't interested.

Instead, his beautiful, shy, respectful friend Steve, with his nervous smile and his ticks. That's what you liked.

"Bucky wants to go dancing." The blonde responded, since you directed your attention to him.

"You could join us, if ya want. I'll buy you a drink if you dance with me." Bucky interfered with a cocky smile. Steve's gaze shifted to Bucky and sighed, making you chuckle.

"You know what? I'll come. But I'll pass on the dance." Your eyes lingered on Steve for a second, who softly smiled at you, before looking back at Bucky, patting his chest once your work was done.

"Oh, c'mon! Just a friendly dance!"

"Let it go, James, it's not gonna work."

Since you had agreed to go out with them, Steve and Bucky walked you home and waited outside while you changed clothes and dolled up.

"Y'know? It's funny to see someone reject you for once." Steve commented with amusement, his hands inside the pockets of his jacket.

Bucky made a bit of a face, but ended up smiling at his friend. "Yeah, she keeps me humble, I guess. But hey, I got her to come to the dancehall, didn't I?" Bucky shrugged, content with you simply agreeing to spend some time with them.

Yes, Bucky tried to butter you up every single time he saw you because you were truly beautiful and he loved your snark and he… Well, he was a flirt. He couldn't help it. But in all honesty, he was just playing and ultimately, he was okay with just befriending you.

"You're unbelievable." Steve huffed, looking at the door as if that would make you come out faster.

Bucky regarded him for a moment before a smirk appeared on his face. "Hey, why don't ya try flirting with her? Perhaps she likes blondes. That's the only explanation for why she doesn't like me." He said pointing at his gelled brown hair.

Steve sighed and shook his head, moving his hair out of his face again. "Stop trying to set me up, Buck. It never works."

You came out of your apartment just as Steve was checking the door again, your eyes locking as you shut the door. The blonde stared at you, his mouth slightly agape. You smiled shyly at him, making him blush when he realized he was just staring like a dumbass.

Bucky turned around when he heard the door, wolf-whistling at the sight of you.

"Okay, okay. Let's not make a big deal out of it, Barnes, let's go." You said as you chuckled, gently pushing Bucky's shoulder to make him move.

He started moving without objection with a chuckle of his own, leaving you and Steve to walk behind him.

You looked down to your side, where you found Steve looking back up at you. His eyes widened when you caught him staring, but he relaxed when you smiled at him, offering you a shy smile in return.

On the way to the dancehall, Bucky ended up convincing you to dance with him. But you demanded some ground rules. No slow songs and no touching more than necessary. Fair enough.

Steve watched you two dance and talk and laugh with resignation. Perhaps you did like Bucky and you were just playing hard to get. Even if you weren't, he didn't stand a chance. Regular women didn't even look his way as it was, but a gal like you, so tall and confident, who didn't even indulge Bucky's advances? Yeah… no chance.

But Steve did not know what you were telling his flirty friend.

"Y'know, you really have to stop flirting with me." You said, your attention still on your steps as you danced with Bucky, not wanting to step on his toes.

"Oh, c'mon! You know it's just a bit of fun." The brunette protested while he guided you.

"I know, I know… I have to admit it, it's amusing sometimes. Flattering. But, I'm already interested in someone else." You let him know,your gaze leaving Bucky's to look past him towards the scrawny, frowning blonde waiting for the both of you on a table, nursing a bottle of coke. He felt you looking, so he glanced up at you and offered one of his small shy smiles. You discreetly smiled back before turning your attention back to Bucky.

"Oh, I see. I'll behave, then. Someone I know?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nosy." You chuckled as he twirled you around for the last time, since the song was coming to an end.

"You're choosing another man over me, of course I wanna know who that lucky fella is." Bucky sighed dramatically once the song ended, draping his arm around your shoulders. "I think you earned that drink, doll."

"Buy me two and I'll tell ya who it is." You said cheekily, allowing the friendly close contact as he guided you towards the bar.

"Done."

As promised, Bucky bought you two drinks of your choice for the dance and the gossip and then left you alone to go mingle with the ladies. Steve saw you walking towards the table he was sitting on, lazily swirling your drink in it's glass, grinning and glowing after your dance. He gulped and combed his fingers through his hair again, his eyes following your movements as you sat in front of him.

"Hello, handsome." You greeted with a cheeky grin, sipping on your drink. You had already downed the first one with Bucky before making your way to the table and you were definitely feeling it.

Steve's eyebrows flew up at your comment before breaking eye contact, looking down at his coke bottle with a nervous chuckle.

"Hello… So, you finally gave in to Bucky's charm." He commented, twirling the bottle on his fingers.

"Not at all." You laughed. "Just wanted that free drink." You nudged at his foot with yours under the table so he would stop staring down. Once he did, you wiggled your brows and sipped on the cocktail again. "Want some?" You offered your glass and Steve hesitated for a moment, but he remembered he wasn't sick at the moment, so you should be fine.

He nodded with another smile as he carefully took the glass from your cold hand, his fingers inevitably brushing against yours making the corners of your lips tug up.

Holding his gaze to yours, Steve took a sip and smiled after putting the glass down.

"S'good." Steve approved, nodding with a smile.

"Right?" You exclaimed before picking up the glass to drink, leaving it in front of him again, inviting him to continue drinking.

You ended up sharing your whole drink with Steve as you looked around the dancehall and commented on everything worth commenting and shared stories.

It turned out Steve was snarky and funny and amazing and your cheeks ended up hurting from alll the smiling and laughing. You were fairly sure the alcohol helped Steve loosen up a bit with you and you couldn't thank Bucky enough for buying you two drinks instead of one.

You looked around at all the people dancing a fast paced song, just like the one you had been dancing before. You even spotted Bucky having fun with a pretty redhead. Then, you looked back at Steve, who was doing the same thing, and regarded him for a moment.

"Hey, would you like to dance?" You asked, resting your head on your hand on the table.

"I…" Steve sighed before continuing. "I don't know. I don't usually dance." He said instead of the truth that he'd never danced with a girl before, lowering his voice and looking down at his fidgeting hands. He had practiced before, forced by Bucky, before he arranged some double date for them. But it never happened.

"What? Why?" You frowned a bit as you asked with genuine curiosity. You weren't dumb. You knew how people thought about someone like Steve and you'd guess he probably wasn't very lucky with the ladies. Just like you didn't interest many guys due to your height. But still, there must've been someone who had seen in Steve what you saw.

Steve looked at you, opening his mouth as he thought how to respond, but nothing came out of it, making him look away in embarrassment.

"We could wait until they play a slow one to dance. Easier than swing, in my opinion." You shrugged, trying to salvage it. You noticed he didn't want to talk about it. In the end, it didn't really matter. You did want to dance with him.

"Wouldn't want to step on your feet." He side glanced at you with what looked like a sad smile. Hell no.

"Ugh, don't worry about that. I'll definitely step on you too." You rolled your eyes and then chuckled, making him laugh too.

It died down as he thought about it. You seemed genuine in your intentions of dancing with him but he couldn't help but think about what people would think. He was so… scrawny. And you were so tall. Way taller than him. People already gave him weird looks by simply existing and he thought perhaps you experienced that too. But you were absolutely beautiful and he… well. You looked better with someone like Bucky.

"Hey. I don't know what's going on inside that head of yours, but stop it. Don't overthink it." You said as you put your hand on top of his on the table, with that big perfect smile you had been flashing at him all night. He had to look at you again, then what your hand just did. You grazed the pads of your fingers up and down the back of his hand and he felt his heart start beating erratically. "We don't have to dance if you don't want to, just know I'd love to dance with you."

He missed your touch the moment your fingers retreated from his hand. Damn, he was so not ready for this. You were not only a dame who was interested in him, which was already rare, but you were the girl he had been interested in for a long time. And you wanted to dance. With him. A slow one. Suddenly, he had forgotten everything Bucky had taught him. He was afraid he was gonna embarrass you in front of everyone and then, they announced they were gonna play something slow. He had to do something now.

You could see Steve freak out inside his head as he had his eyes fixed on the hand you'd touched and decided to give him his time.

Steve finally came out of his thoughts and looked back up at you. He got up clumsily and brushed his hair out of the way before offering you his hand.

"Yeah?" You said, unable to contain the wide smile growing on your face, reaching for his hand and standing up to go to the dancefloor.

"Yeah."

You were giddy and excited and you were sure anyone could hear your heart pounding in your chest as he gently took your hand and put his other one tentatively on your waist. You looked down to Steve, squeezing his hand for reassurance and placing your free hand on his shoulder.

This close, he had to tilt his head back to look up at you but he decided he didn't care. Not when you were beaming at him like that as you started to sway to the music, your gaze fixed on him and nothing else.

Steve was so entranced with you he didn't notice and ended up stepping on you. Mortified, he looked down and then back at you with wide eyes, his cheeks rapidly turning a bright red.

You started laughing, shaking your head and not allowing him to pull away after that, the hand you had on his shoulder going to the back of his neck as he apologized profusely.

"Steve, I thought we talked about this. It's fine." You leaned a bit closer to his face to whisper at him, your fingers gently brushing the hair at the nape.

Steve's breath hitched at the feeling, his eyes threatening to close in delight.

"I apologize…"

You giggled and lightly stepped on his foot on purpose, making Steve's eyes go wide again.

"There you go. It's only fair." You said with a wink, making him smile.

You ended up dancing for a couple more songs, Steve confidence building back up as the songs went by.

You two ended up getting closer until your bodies were flush against each other, which you thought perhaps was somewhat uncomfortable for Steve, having to crane his neck so he wouldn't have his face almost on your chest. In that moment, Steve was sure he died and went to heaven and this wasn't even real so it didn't matter if his neck ended up aching or not.

You decided to go back to the table once a faster paced song came up, satisfied with how much you had danced for the night.

After a while, the place started to empty and you saw Bucky coming towards the table with an amused smirk on his face, his hair slightly mussed.

"You're not leaving with that pretty blonde you've been dancing all night?" You asked the brunette as he approached the two of you, cocking a brow at him.

Bucky's smirk grew bigger at your words as he glanced at Steve. He could ask the same thing, apparently. "Your ma will kill me if I don't walk you home. She doesn't know Steve."

"That's true." You sighed, smiling apologetically at the blonde who you had been dancing and flirting with all evening. Your mom only trusted Bucky (because he was an absolute gem every time he came home to bring or pick up Becca). She even mentioned how handsome he was from time to time, in hopes you'd tell her you liked him.

Bucky had been keeping an eye on his two friends while he danced and flirted around and he decided to walk a couple of steps in front of you so you and Steve could have some space, walking with an amused smile on his face and his hands inside the pockets of his pants.

Behind him, Steve seemed to get shy again. You didn't mind walking in silence, having talked for hours, but you knew by now you had to reassure him of your interest or he wouldn't dare to make a move. So, after the back of his hand grazed yours a couple of times, you decided to take his hand, interlocking your fingers with his.

Steve's eyes went straight to look down at your joined hands, then up to your face, where he found you already staring down at him with a smile. He huffed and smiled back before looking away.

Bucky made some small talk along the way, unable to just walk, while trying not to look back. God, he was so obvious. You giggled as you thought about how he had been flirting with you for years and yet, the moment he learned you liked Steve he stopped did everything in his hand to make it happen.

Once you got home, he made sure to speak loud enough your ma would know he got you home and stepped back a few feet, casually looking away and turning his back to wait for Steve to do his thing.

"Thanks for tonight, I had a great time." You said, not letting go of Steve's hand just yet, both of you half way up the entrance stairs.

"Me too. I…" He huffed and chuckled, looking down at his feet. "I honestly never had a night like this." Steve confessed, still not believing it happened.

"We could do it again. Without Bucky." You whispered, tilting his head up with your finger curled under his chin.

Steve gulped and went to brush his fingers through his hair again but you beat him to it, doing it for him as you smiled softly and got down one step so you could be at similar heights, your eyes never leaving his.

"I'd love to." Steve smiled just as softly, silent for a moment as his eyes dropped to your lips, then went back to your eyes. Perhaps kissing you would be too forward, but he would love to do it.

You were now with your back towards Bucky and Steve could see him from his peripheral vision mouth something to him. Having hearing problems, he got pretty good at reading lips but it was dark, so he couldn't see shit.

"Just kiss her already, ya punk!" Bucky whispered-shouted at his friend when he realized he wasn't getting the message, making you start giggling.

"Sorry about him." Steve giggled nervously, glancing back at you.

"He's right, though." You said, trailing the fingers from your free hand down his tie and then going back up.

Steve's giggle died down instantly, his big blue eyes taking you in for a moment. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nodded, your hand wrapping around his tie to pull him in, your lips pressing softly against his slightly chapped ones.

It was brief, both of you would've kept kissing but you knew it wasn't appropriate.

You smiled against his lips and gave him another one before pulling away.

Steve's lips followed yours for a second, and you couldn't help but kiss him again, the sight too cute to ignore.

"Okay, you have to go now. Ma will worry if I don't go inside soon." You explained with a smile, letting his tie go and making sure it was in place.

"When can I see you again?" Steve asked still holding your hand, even though his hold loosened, knowing he would have to let it go soon.

"Friday?"

"Would you mind if it was sooner?" He asked sheepishly, a shy smile on his face. He was embarrassed to sound desperate, but he couldn't help it.

"Wednesday afternoon. Final offer." You joked with a chuckle.

"Wednesday. I-I'll think of something nice for you." He confirmed with a nod, letting go of your hand to put his hands back on his pockets, dropping to the step you were on.

"Alright. Don't overthink too much, though. I'm a simple gal. I'll like whatever you plan." You said, trailing your finger across his jaw down to his chin in a tender gesture. "I'll go pick up my sister from Bucky's house tomorrow. Be there?"

Steve nodded with a soft smile in response. You then smiled back and leaned down, tilting his head up again to kiss him one last time, your fingers caressing his soft cheek.

Once you pulled away, you looked at Bucky, who was giving you a thumbs up behind Steve with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes at him, making Steve turn around to see what was going on.

"Jerk." He whispered to himself as he went down the steps to join Bucky.

"Bye James!" You waved at him as he waved you back.

Steve walked backwards, unable to peel his eyes from you and you waved at him too, throwing him a wink that made him smile again. You mouthed a goodnight at him, getting the same response from the blonde before he finally turned back and walked away with Bucky.

Your cheeks hurt like hell from smiling and you knew you had to shake it off before getting inside. You pulled your key out and took a deep breath before stepping in.

"Hello, ma! Yeah, yeah, that was Bucky…"

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x tall!reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #preserum steve rogers #preserum steve x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #preserum steve x tall reader #preserum steve x tall female reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #Juno's fics

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foxgloveprincess · 3 years

Text

It’s A Game Of Give And Take

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

Word Count: 8.3K

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

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

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

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

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

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

Enjoy!

Tagging: @kleohoneyao3 @slothspaghettiwrites @bonkywobble

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

It starts with Fitz, a nice but shy faun who’s running from his lifelong love—his best friend. He’s adorable in a dorky kind of way, endearing and charming. But I can’t. I can’t be with someone when they’re holding out for someone else. It hits too damn close to home.

With Matt, a very cordial dullahan, we’re able to make pleasant conversation for the evening. He’s attractive and a good conversationalist, making the meeting less stressful. But there’s no spark, no chemistry bubbling beneath the surface. We fall flat, in short, and part as friendly acquaintances with the happy expectation that we’ll never see each other again.

Hela is a disaster—a goddamn nightmare. Condescending and, at some points, just plain mean. Something flutters in my belly when I first see her perched on the stool at the bar. She’s stunning, sultry in a very alluring way—which probably stems from her being a succubus. But once our evening truly begins, she speaks and my stomach plummets to my feet. I leave the restaurant with nausea churning in my gut.

The key turns in the door, new library books cradled close to my chest as I barge into my apartment. I drop my keys in their place on the side table and lock the door behind me, peeking through the kitchen doorway to see if Bucky and Steve are up and about quite yet.

When I find no sign of them, despite Steve’s incessant—no, insane—need to run fifteen miles a day at the ass crack of dawn come hell or high water, my brow scrunches and lips purse.

Surely, they must be here somewhere.

A groan, low and throaty, reaches my ears, the sound startling. Shuffling those final steps to our living room, I freeze in my tracks, eyes wide and mind blue screening. Because I hear that groan again, and this time I have the visual display to clue me into the context of the vocalization.

Steve reclines, splayed across the couch, hoofs hanging off the edge at the other end, Bucky plastered across him, looping around his body like a Christmas bow. Their mouths clash together, tongues twisting, fingers buried in thick tufts of hair. Bucky’s hips gyrate, sliding over Steve for friction, gasps and whimpers, panting breaths exchanged between open mouths.

Heat flushes through my blood from my toes to the tips of my ears, kindling desire between my thighs. My mouth waters and the rest of my body has stopped working, enthralled by their writhing figures. Because holy shit, good gods—they’re divine.

“Buck,” Steve rasps, fingers skipping down Bucky’s torso, disappearing between their flushed, dewy bodies. Swallowing the responsive moan slipping from Bucky’s lips, a hitched breath.

And they freeze.

It takes me a minute to understand why. That a whimper, so small and unintended, choked in my throat, had escaped me as I watched them. Startled from being caught, my books fall from my grasp and land on the floor with heavy thunks.

“I am so sorry,” I apologize with a grimace, dropping to my knees to collect the splayed pages. Sticking the books under my arms, I stare at the floor, begging for my embarrassment to dissipate enough for me to address my two roommates with a clear head.

Standing slowly, a sheepish smile spreads my lips, thoughts still searching for something to say to break this tension.

The flick of Bucky’s tongue catches my attention as it scents the air, and I gulp. The thought of what he might detect—like, oh I don’t know, the slickness of my heated arousal sticking to my panties—spikes another wave of embarrassed heat flaming up my cheeks. My mind scrambles—free falling with nothing to grasp onto except some very colorful and, dare I say, creative curses.

“Morning, li’l one,” Steve greets, clearing his throat and sitting up beneath Bucky. The naga merely keeps his watchful eyes on me, tasting the air again with his forked tongue. Steve glances over to his boyfriend before addressing me once more to explain, “We got a little carried away after my run.” His large hand runs over the hair at the back of his neck, head cocking to the side, the beads woven into his braid glinting in a ray of sunlight. “I hope you don’t mind that the two of us—”

“No, nope, not at all,” I squeak, interrupting him, not needing to hear any more. Avoiding the weight of his inquisitive gaze, I look anywhere in the room except for their entwined bodies, trying to pry any shred of composure left within me—of common decency to not leer at them like a lech—to the surface. “You guys can just go back to your…” The words fizzle on my tongue. I clear my throat and look away, gesturing toward our separate rooms. “I’ll just be reading,” I mutter, hand tapping on the books under my arm awkwardly.

Scurrying away, I refuse to look back, hearing the mumblings of their conversation as I retreat. The door closes behind me quickly, my back pressed to the sturdy wood, breath shuddering out of my lungs. My teeth worry my bottom lip, swallowing down the scream of frustration. Mind spouting chastisement for interrupting their intimate moment and ogling them like some kind of pervert.

Flinging my new books onto my desk, I push away for the door and drop into the seat, thunking my head on the wood top—completely ignoring the aching, bone-deep yearning that laces with every drop of blood in my veins when the agitation begins to cool and dissipate.

Fuck my life. It’s gonna be one of those days.

“So, how’s your little venture going?” Natasha asks, sipping on her latte, cool eyes scanning over the crowd at the café before focusing on me. She shifts in her chair, brushing a lock of her bright red hair over her shoulder, waiting on my answer.

“Miserably,” I groan, dropping my head, barely missing the chai latte beside my hands. She hums in response, her brow quirking at me.

“That’s what you get for using Glammr without my help,” she muses with a wry chuckle.

My lips part on an indignant protest, “I—”

“What do Steve and Bucky think about your dive into dating apps?” she interrupts, observing me curiously.

I sigh, rolling my eyes, “I haven’t told them yet.”

She hums again, lips pressed in a contemplative grin.

“Oh, what now?” I ask, raising my head, leveling a mild glare at her.

“Nothing,” she insists with a teasing smirk, “it’s just interesting is all.”

“What’s interesting?” Clint asks, plopping back in his seat at the table. He grabs his giant cup of coffee and starts downing it like he’s a parched man in a desert.

I stare at him in awe, fingers rubbing my temples, wondering at his ability to drain 24 ounces so quickly, like he doesn’t need air. It’s almost easy to forget what we were talking about—but I’m not that lucky.

“Steve and Bucky don’t know she’s dating,” Natasha replies with a nonchalant gesture in my direction.

Clint sputters, choking on the dregs of his drink. He coughs as Natasha whacks him on his back, catching his breath and waving her—and her assault—away.

“Oh boy,” he mumbles, averting his eyes to stare at the lid of his cup. He fidgets uncomfortably, popping his foot on the opposite knee and leaning back in his seat.

“What?” I ask, defensively, eyes darting between my two companions.

Neither respond. Natasha kicks Clint’s foot, the man falling forward at the jolt. He glances over at her, an annoyed frown on his lips. The minutes of my lunch break tick by in silence, watching as they communicate in a language all their own—until I break it.

“Look,” I reason, leaning back in my chair and picking at my sleeve, “living with Steve and Bucky is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love them. But you know what they’re like. They’re the perfect couple. You can’t imagine how lonely it can be.” My eyes drop to my lap, a weary sigh of air blowing past my lips—cause I’m not gonna cry, no, nope, definitely not. I clear my throat and look up, grabbing my mug to take a sip of my drink, muttering, “Even if I don’t find ‘the one’, the least this app can do is help me get laid.”

Clint groans my name, drenching it in disappointment. My shoulders lift in an unapologetic shrug, my phone pinging with a distraction from the conversation. Plucking the device off the table, I glance at the notification, the Glammr app opening as I unlock the screen.

You’ve been matched!

A small smile quirks the corner of my lips while I click through the profile. Swiping through the About section and the photos with rising excitement.

Two sets of eyes land on me, burning as heat rises in my cheeks. Their scrutiny pointed and expectant.

“It’s just a match in the app,” I mumble in explanation, skimming through Okoye’s interests. She’s gorgeous—a beautiful lamia with striking red scales—and, from her profile, she seems to be very dedicated to her job at Wakanda Corps.

My eyes flick up, catching the unwavering stares of my so-called friends. I sigh. Understanding I won’t know peace until they’re appeased, I turn the screen in their direction. Natasha snatches the phone from my hand, thumbing through Okoye’s pictures while Clint leans over her arm to catch a peek.

Natasha says nothing—not a peep—and eventually hands back the phone, head cocked to the side, sizing me up. Clint does the same. And I feel like a specimen being examined in a petrie dish.

My phone chimes again, alarm going off to signal the imminent end of my break. I sigh in relief and click off the annoying tone, locking the screen and shoving it in my pocket.

“I’ll see you guys later?” I ask, looking down at them as I sling my bag over my shoulder.

They mumble their affirmative responses and I grin, heading toward the door, spirits high. Only four and a half more hours of work to go. And then all my attention can focus on wooing my newest match.

Trudging up the stairs to my apartment, I clutch at the bottom of my bag of groceries, praying that it doesn’t spill out all over the floor. It’s been a long ass day and all I need is some time to relax and not have to think about the billion things I have to sort through on my desk. Just a couple hours without that burden, that’s all I want.

My key slides into the door, pushing it open and catching it with my foot before it slams. I drop my workbag from my shoulder and kick off my shoes in the entryway, trying to get them as straight as possible with the use of my feet so they line up on the mat next to the others.

The smell of spices wafts through the air, a siren call for my empty stomach. Following the scent to the kitchen, I place my bag of groceries on the counter and tiptoe over to the pot bubbling away with some kind of stew. Grabbing a spoon out of the drawer, I dip it in, blowing to cool it off, and bring it toward my lips.

“You little sneak.”

I jump, startled by the voice and nearly drop the spoon as I turn. Bucky leans against the doorway to the kitchen, an amused smirk plastered on his lips. I childishly stick out my tongue before popping the spoon into my mouth, moaning quietly at the savory taste. He rolls his eyes at me, scoffing at my antics.

My brow cocks in question as my eyes drink in the sight of his buttoned shirt and tight jeans. “Why is your glamour still up?” I ask, stepping to the sink to place my spoon down. My head tilts to the side as I study his fidgeting form, his arms crossing and uncrossing in front of his chest.

“I was waiting for you to get home,” he confesses with a self-conscious chuckle.

My eyes roll at the statement, walking out of the kitchen and toward my room, pulling my sweater off my arms and starting to unbutton my blouse. Bucky follows, slowly stalking after me and staying behind the door as I push it closed and begin to change.

“We do have the heat lamps, you know,” I call through the door, stripping out of my work clothes and grabbing an oversized shirt and cotton bike shorts to wear. The responding disgruntled groan is a familiar sound, my head shaking in amusement at his foolishness.

“You know I don’t like the heat lamps. We only have them for emergencies anyway,” he replies with a hint of a whine twinging his tone.

I hum in response, picturing his pout—the cute bastard. Checking my reflection in my mirror, I adjust my bralette and roll my neck. With a final tug to my shorts, pulling them just that little inconsequential bit down my thighs, I fling open my door and cross my arms expectantly over my chest.

“Besides, you know I like snuggling up with you better,” he insists, head canted toward me and eyes shining like a pouty puppy.

My eyes roll once more, and I make a quick wave of my hand, gesturing toward his body. “Alright then, go ahead.”

His skin glimmers, shifting the glamour away until he stands tall with his tail coiling beneath him. He sighs in relief, stretching his back and arms, the tip of his tail creeping slowly around my ankle.

I step out of my room carefully, avoiding the tripping hazard, and make my way back toward the kitchen.

“Did Steve text you about being hung up at work?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder to Bucky slithering after me.

“He said we should eat without him,” he replies, a hint of excitement in his voice. “It’ll just be the two of us this evening.” He sneaks closer, approaching quickly and embracing me from behind, squishing my arms against my chest, humming joyfully.

His head finds the crook of my neck, resting there as I awkwardly bend to stir the stew one last time and start serving it into the bowls placed by the stove. Bucky’s more-than-hearty portion and my more average one don’t making much of a dent in the pot at all, leaving plenty left over for Steve when he gets home.

Bucky releases me and I turn to grab two spoons before picking both bowls up and nodding for him to lead the way.

A squeak of surprise jumps out of me as Bucky, instead, hefts me into his arms. My heart thumps in my chest as I scramble not to drop the two bowls in my hands—or spill hot stew all over my shirt. He chuckles and pulls me close to his chest, his smooth scales sending a shiver down my spine as they brush against my exposed thighs.

“Bucky!” I protest half-heartedly, still unused to being hefted up by his monstrous strength, but loving every second. I mean, he holds me as if I weigh less than a feather—who in their right mind would seriously object—no one, I tell you, no one.

He slides out of the kitchen and over to our couch, a pair of glasses and a filtered pitcher of water waiting on the table. A small sound of appreciation trips over my lips at his thoughtfulness as he sets me gently down in the corner of the couch, propping me up with every pillow he can find, and places himself right beside me.

Crammed close together, skin to scales, I scoff with a complacent amusement as Bucky’s tail wraps and folds on itself, taking up most of the cushion space. If I weren’t so used to it, I might actually blush at such close proximity.

We eat our dinner, the buzz of some cooking show playing behind us as we chat. Bucky tells me about his day, how Shuri has been on his ass for the past week trying to get blueprints and models done for a presentation to some client. At the mention of his skipped lunch break, my mouth lets out a sound of disgruntled protest while my eyes squint in a scrutinizing glare.

“I’m sorry,” he concedes, stacking our empty bowls on the table next to our glasses. His arms wrap around my waist, hugging his torso close to mine as he promises, “it won’t happen again.”

I nod, a definitive, “good,” as I relax against the couch arm and the stack of pillows behind me.

Bucky rests his head on my chest, the sharp points of his claws tickling my side as he lazily wraps around me. My fingers run through his long brown hair, used to his clingy nature, smiling softly to myself at his familiar weight, heavy yet comforting.

Reaching out a hand, straining toward the remote control, I switch to Netflix and start playing a random sitcom.

Bucky’s body rolls, pressing his back against my chest to better face the screen. Knowing exactly how he wants to be held, I push my body up a little on the couch and spread my legs until he slots more comfortably between them.

One knee rests propped against the back cushion and one splays out straight, his tail keeping it on the couch by looping over it and pinning it down. My right arm wraps under Bucky’s to hold him from behind, his chest rising and falling with his steady breaths under my palm.

The fingers of my left hand absentmindedly find and trace the thick, jagged scars vining around his left arm, thoughts automatically drifting toward the horrific memory of his past. My mind races, muscles tensing at the recollection, but unable to escape the furious spiral.

Sensing the direction of my thoughts, he grabs hold of my fingers to stop me. “I’m alright,” he whispers, eyes locked on our hands. “I’m alright.”

I sniff back the rage that boils in my veins. “That hydra was a bitch,” I mutter darkly, my fingers flexing in his grip. “Can’t believe you dated her for so long.”

“I’m alright,” he insists one more time.

A moment of silence passes between us, a few agitated huffs of air expelled from my lungs before I lean just the slightest bit forward and press a kiss to Bucky’s crown, feeling the tension leech away from my limbs.

We remain entangled on the couch, barely watching the show that plays on the screen—tender, friendly touches exchanged between us. My eyes eventually drift shut, a peaceful contented rest coaxing me toward sleep.

“Now, how’d I get so lucky.” The voice jerks me back to awareness, finding Steve leaning against the entry to the living room, a sweet smile lighting up his face. “Such a pretty picture.”

A chuckle vibrates my chest as I squirm beneath Bucky’s weight, trying to maneuver myself to a different position.

“Oh, I know,” I snark, grunting with the effort of trying to shove the naga’s mass so I can stand and stretch. “But don’t let Bucky hear you or he might get jealous.”

Steve snorts, letting his glamour drop, body rippling as his form grows to it’s towering height and natural bovine features.

Bucky scoffs, twisting with a narrowed gaze. “That’s it,” he hisses playfully, “now you’re just going to perish beneath me.”

“Promises, promises,” I jest, placing a teasing kiss on his nose. “Steve,” I gesture over to the massive, muscled minotaur, “would you please get your boyfriend off of me?”

“Or, just hear me out,” he replies, raising his hands up and backing away to retrieve his dinner, “I could not do that.”

At my sputter of objection, he laughs—the little shit—a resounding sound that echoes back to the living room as dishes clink in the kitchen.

I groan, flopping back on the arm of the chair, the corner of my lip quirking toward an amused smile. Bucky lowers his torso, pressing our bodies flush once again, inching back to rest his head on my breasts.

“So, this how you want me to perish?” I muse, brow cocked in query.

Bucky hums, tail flicking as it coils around my ankle once again. He doesn’t move from his position, and I huff a heavy sigh, rubbing my hand up my forehead and over my hair.

Arching my back as best I can, trying to stretch, I jostle Bucky’s resting place over me. He lifts his head to glare, and I scrunch my nose in taunting response.

“How was your day, Steve?” I call toward the kitchen, brushing some of Bucky’s hair out of his eyes. “Certainly had you working late, didn’t they?”

Steve emerges from the kitchen with his plate, chewing over his bite as he steps over to the couch. Bucky uncoils, scooting to make some room and I take the opportunity to slip off the sofa and onto the floor, providing them all the space they need.

Bucky clicks his tongue in displeasure, claws scraping over the back of my neck as I maneuver out of his grip. But his boyfriend distracts him by sitting at the other end, spreading out to relax into the cushions—and Steve’s a much better cuddle buddy, definitely much warmer and more tempting.

“Yeah, this latest project is just kicking my ass,” he sighs a huff out of his nose, a small smile gracing his features as Bucky coils around him. “Rollins isn’t doing shit, so someone’s gotta pick up the slack at the end of the day.”

“You want me to put a strike in his file?” I ask, glancing up over my shoulder to catch his gaze.

“No,” he says, shaking his head with a small grimace, “wouldn’t be quite right.”

“Steve, it’s literally my job,” I rebut, deadpan.

His shoulders bob in a shrug and he shoves another bite of food into his mouth. I sigh and lean my head back looking for a sympathetic companion in Bucky. Appearing just as peeved as I feel, his tail flicks through the air and resolve settles within me.

“I’mma do it anyway,” I announce with a yawn, standing from the floor and stretching tall, the hem of my shirt brushing my waist to reveal a sliver of skin. Steve’s eyes flash darkly and I blow him a playful kiss, turning toward the hallway to saunter off to bed.

“I’m gonna head in for the evening.” I spin on my heel, backing toward my room and giving a little wave.

“Do you wanna sleep in the nest with us tonight?” Bucky offers, pressing up from Steve’s chest, gaze shining with eagerness.

I pause, freezing mid-step, thoughts sent flying.

Before Steve moved in and got together with Bucky, the naga was my constant companion in bed—since our days in college, actually—saying my warmth was just right for a peaceful night’s sleep. Our little nest took up the whole floor of my bedroom, piles of blankets and pillows draped just so to create a cushy place to rest on the floor or burrow beneath.

And then, things changed.

Steve was a friendly face at work, and needed a place to live after his roommate proposed to his girlfriend. I offered him the extra room in the apartment—wasn’t like Bucky or I ever used it except to store some of my clothes. He agreed to a test run, and that was supposed to be that.

But their eyes met for the first time and everything just clicked. Didn’t take them very long at all to absolutely fall head over heels, and I moved, leaving the nest with Bucky and sleeping on the ‘guest’ bed in my new room.

It wasn’t a hard transition, not really—well, maybe a little—fuck it, a lot. After years of cuddling with your best friend every night, sleeping alone is awfully lonely. Not to mention the fact that those two weren’t the only ones head over heels. Just my luck, though, right?

But the offer to sleep with them in their nest—uh-uh, no way, not happening. That’s just too damn much. I can’t handle that—I know myself far too well to let myself take that little crumb of intimacy.

I scoff and cross my arms in the best act of nonchalance I can muster, “Nah,” I wave a hand in a flippant gesture, “got a cozy bed all to myself. I’ll see you two in the morning.” I swallow down the crack that threatens my voice, taking another step back, and disappear into my room with a final bid goodnight.

Okoye doesn’t work out.

She’s incredibly charming and accommodating. When she smiles, it absolutely lights up the room. My heart flutters just remembering the way she looked at me. But when she said she’s dedicated to her job on her profile, she really meant it. She talks about her work throughout most of our dinner, her phone resting on the table beside her hand—just in case an emergency requires her attention, she says.

She kisses me on the cheek at the end of the night, her fingers delicately clutching my wrist as she hails me a cab. We part amicably, and I don’t expect to hear from her again.

The morning sun shines bright and temperate on the stalls of the Farmers’ Market, tents and tables lining the street as Steve, Bucky, and I explore the goods for sale. My two roommates wear their glamour, blending into the crowd as if there were nothing extraordinary about them—yeah, right. Their faces shine bright with happiness, flanking me on either side, holding my hands to keep me close.

A certain booth catches my eye as we pass, the shine of pretty metal shaped in delicate designs luring me over. My hands slip easily from each of their grips, pace slowing to step toward the table and look at the small pieces of jewelry.

Earrings hang from pieces of card, necklaces sit coiled in little boxes, and rings stick from cushions, lining the table. My fingers dance over the pretty trinkets, examining various designs that catch my fancy, debating on which one to purchase.

“There you are,” Steve huffs in mild annoyance, stomping over to my side, frown pulling the corners of his lips down, “More slippery than a snake.”

“Hey!” Bucky protests, stepping on my other side and throwing his arm over my shoulder.

Steve ignores his boyfriend, laser focused on me. He crosses his spindly arms and arches his brow. I duck my head with a repentant smile, muttering an apology as I look down at him.

“It’s just pretty,” I mumble, scuffing my toe against the asphalt. “I won’t do it again.”

Bucky tugs me closer, making my feet stumble as I fall back into him. “Yes, you will,” he chuckles with a fond smile, squeezing me gently. “C’mon,” he beckons, dropping his arm to grab my hand and tug me away, “Wanna go look at those pies.”

My eye catches the stall Bucky’s talking about—a long table absolutely piled with baked goods. All thought of the jewelry vanishes, mind much more occupied by cookies and tarts and pies and cakes—each more tempting than the last. My mouth waters and I follow like a moth to a flame as he guides me away with a sneaky glance over his shoulder toward Steve.

The pixie running the stall flits between customers, boxing up their goods and smiling brightly with their sharp teeth. They address us when it’s our turn, Bucky and I each picking out a few goodies to take home, salivating in anticipation.

Bucky hands over the money to pay for our treats, my cheeks puffed in playful indignation and hand halfway to my own wallet. Instead, I grab up the cardboard box, cradling it close to my chest like a precious treasure, looking around for Steve, craning my head to catch the flash of his golden hair in the crowd.

“Why does Steve’s glamour have to be so short?” I huff. “He’s a huge, burly minotaur and yet I can’t pick him out of a crowd.”

“Well, I was the runt of my family,” Steve teases, sneaking up behind me and poking me in the side.

I jump with a squeak and turn on my heel. “You scared me, you punk!” I scold half-heartedly, a laugh bursting out of my chest as my lips spread into an easy smile.

Steve chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, sidling up to Bucky to press a kiss to his cheek. I shake my head fondly and look away to give them a moment of privacy.

Though my heart swells with their effortless display of affection, a twinge of envy bites low in my gut—easy enough to smother and bury deep if I just don’t think about it too hard.

“Let’s keep going,” I encourage with a gesture to prompt them onward.

Bucky buys a couple fresh plums a few booths down, biting into one and letting the juice dribble down his chin. He gladly offers us each a bite, holding it out to let Steve and I sink our teeth into the succulent flesh in turn.

I hum, pleased at the taste, smiling brightly as I chew, hands too occupied with our box of baked goods to effectively wipe away the sweet residue.

Bucky reaches out with a laugh, holding my head still. His fingers swipe slowly over my lips and chin, cleaning my face and sucking his sticky fingers into his mouth. I swallow thickly with an exclamation of gratitude before averting my eyes—refusing to let my mind linger in the soft brush of his fingers.

When we reach the end, stalls packing away tables and unsold inventory, we turn to find our way back to our apartment, bags, stomachs, and hearts full.

“Did you see those pumpkins, though?” I gush, precariously holding our box of treats in one arm as I gesture wildly with the other, “they were ginormous!”

“I’m pretty sure I could curl up inside one of them if I really wanted to,” Bucky adds with a laugh.

My smile stretches my face wide, shoulder nudging his as we walk down the street. Steve remains quiet to my other side, brow drawn in contemplation. Though I don’t comment, I shoot a look toward Bucky, brow arched in question. He shakes his head with an unworried shrug.

Well, that’s not a satisfactory response.

Questions begin to zip through my head, even as our apartment building appears around the corner. I press my lips together, trying to swallow them down. But they buzz under my skin and up my throat until I can’t keep them at bay and my curiosity and concern overwhelms me.

“Is everything alright, Steve?” I ask bluntly, both men glancing at each other before their eyes land on me.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Steve replies, grinning nervously. His hands rummage in his pockets before producing a small black box, juggling it between his fingers before holding it out toward me. “I thought you might like this, though.”

We stop in front of our building stoop, my focus drawn to Steve’s offering, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. The lid cracks open to reveal a small cushion holding a delicate burnished silver ring decorated with a small star. My jaw drops, eyes flicking between the pretty trinket and Steve’s bashful smile.

“Oh, Steve,” I croon, holding out my hand, gesturing to the box of pastries in the other, “help me put it on.”

His fingers fumble with the box, plucking the ring from it’s place and steadying his trembling hands by holding mine. The ring slips easily onto my left pointer finger, a small stone glinting in the middle of the star as light hits it.

I hold my hand up, admiring it’s beauty. Leaning down, I buss an affectionate and appreciative kiss to his cheek, pressing my lips together as I retreat—hoping my smile doesn’t shine too bright or expose too much.

“I love it, but you didn’t have to,” I murmur, still enraptured by the thought behind the dainty gift.

“I wanted to,” Steve mumbles, a pink blush crawling up his cheeks.

I giggle in delight and bounce up the steps of our building, wrangling my keys out of my pocket to open the door. Steve and Bucky slow their pace, Bucky’s hand slipping into Steve’s as they share a private moment together of soft smiles and sweet kisses.

My shoulder pushes through the door, stomach sinking. I trek up the staircase as quick as my feet will carry me, ignoring the way my heart thunders and my lips wobble—if I just go fast enough, maybe I’ll outrun the uncomfortable jealousy nipping at my heels.

“I can’t thank you enough for this,” Quentin gushes holding up his packet of papers in both hands, a smile spreading his lips. “Saving me hours of headache. You really are my savior.” Despite my thought that maybe he’d leave after that statement, he leans his hip against the edge of my desk, clearly far from being finished.

Scooting my chair just the tiniest bit away from his position, I stack some files and shake my head, bracing for whatever other favor he’s going to ask of me. “It’s just my job, Quentin. It’s not a big deal.”

“Well, fine,” he concedes with a sigh and self-deprecating shrug. “But I still wanna take you out tonight.”

I sputter, not expecting the blunt come on from someone at work—someone I haven’t exactly interacted with much.

“Excuse me?” I query, surely mishearing what he said.

“I want to take you out tonight, on a date—thank you thoroughly,” he replies, adding an eyebrow waggle for an extra level of innuendo that I absolutely do not need.

A record scratch plays in my mind, mouth opening and closing like a fish—trying to find a company appropriate way to say ‘no, hell no, hell to the fucking no no no’.

“Heya, li’l one.”

My head whips around to find Steve, standing on my other side with a small paper bag and coffee cup in his hands.

Meeting my wide, panicky eyes, he immediately reacts, stepping closer and setting aside his offerings. As soon as his hand is free, he sets one on the nape of my neck in a reassuring gesture and tips his head down to press his lips against my temple. I breathe deeply, letting the tension melt away from my shoulders, immediately comprehending exactly what this possessive display is meant to do. Thank the gods for perceptive best friends, that’s all I have to say.

“Who’s this?” Steve asks, voice hard and gaze scrutinizing as it flicks away from me.

“Just Quentin,” I reply, practically giddy with this new escape tactic Steve has provided. “He needed some forms, but he’s got them now.”

Our attention turns to the other man standing beside my desk, his brow furrowed, eyes darting between us with confusion.

“You’re with this pipsqueak?” he scoffs, leaning back on his heels and rolling his eyes. “Come out to dinner with me and I’ll prove that you can do better.”

Steve’s fist clenches at his side, his chest puffing with his anger, a ferocious glower marring his handsome features. His skin starts to shimmer, his glamour beginning to melt away.

“You better back off, pal.” His nostrils flare with his threat, shoulders tense.

Quentin only smirks, completely dismissive of my friend’s growing ire. Which, honestly, is a terrible mistake and yet he doesn’t realize it—R.I.P. Quentin.

Steve’s form begins to shift, growing taller and taller until his horns seem to almost brush against the ceiling tiles, golden fur sprouting from his shoulders and over his legs. Though Steve’s face remains scrunched in a show of his anger, his breathing calms, confident as he stares down at the man whose eyes widen, round as dinner plates.

My hand brushes against my friend’s forearm, petting my fingers delicately through his fur. He snaps his eyes in my direction, a fond smile tilting his lips as he catches my gaze.

“Now,” Steve grunts, turning back to Quentin with a snort from his nose, “You’re gonna leave my girlfriend alone. You got that? She doesn’t appreciate your advances.” He takes a step forward, encroaching on Quentin’s personal space, voice dropping low and threatening, “And I don’t appreciate it either.” He ducks his head, his warm breath fanning over the other man’s face—just waiting for objections he won’t receive.

Quentin nods frantically, stepping away and scurrying toward the elevators without another word. Steve nods, satisfied with himself, before turning back toward me, his glamour recast as his height shrinks and he appears human once more.

He places his hands on his hips and sighs in resignation, “I’m gonna get in trouble for that.”

I pop up, out of my seat, arms wrapping around his shoulders to pull him close in a grateful hug. I rock us back and forth, squeezing his thin frame as tight as I can.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” I chant enthusiastically. “You’re my hero.”

Steve pulls away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, eyes avoiding mine and the tips of his ears tinted the cutest shade of pink. I giggle quietly and seat myself back at my desk, straightening my appearance as I do. Steve caresses his fingers across my cheek, brushing away a piece of lint or eyelash.

“Gotta protect my best girl, don’t I?” he asks with a cheeky smirk.

“I’ll grab the snacks,” I announce, standing from the couch while Bucky flips through the movies on streaming and Steve makes quiet comments. They both send me a smile as I retreat, but make no further requests.

In the kitchen, I grab a bag of chips and throw some popcorn into the microwave, pulling bowls from the cabinet and filling each with sweet or salty snacks. My phone pings with a Glammr notification—that distinct alert sound immediately catching my attention. Heat surges up my cheeks, hearing it so softly, knowing that my phone sits perched on the arm of the couch, too far out of my reach and far too close to Steve and Bucky’s.

I scramble back into the living room and my stomach plummets toward my toes. Bucky’s holding my phone, brows furrowed in confusion. Steve’s gaze turns to me, glaring—honestly angry. My blood freezes in my veins at the look, a litany of curses playing on repeat in my head.

“What is this?”

I clear my throat, shifting uncomfortably on my feet right at the edge of the living room—too fucking scared to take one step further. My face scrunches with my chagrin as I reply, “It’s Glammr, a dating app for people who are looking to date other beings, you know—monsters and aliens and stuff.”

“I know what Glammr is,” Steve responds through gritted teeth, his jaw ticking with irritation. “What is it doing on your phone?”

A high whine slips from my throat, displeased with the current—embarrassing—trajectory for this inquisition. I glance toward Bucky, hoping to gauge his reaction—maybe find a speck of sympathy—but he simply stares at my phone, frozen in place, expression befuddled.

“I’m just—” I pause and run my hand over my hair, “It’s pretty self-explanatory, Steve. I’m looking for a partner.”

“You have us,” Steve retorts, head tilting to the side and eyes squinting in a prolonged, accusatory examination.

“And I love that the two of you are so inclusive with me,” I reassure, holding my hands out in front of me in a placating gesture. “But I know that I’m always cramping your intimacy by being a third wheel and, you know,” I mutter, chin dropping as I look to the floor, “I kinda want my own romantic connection. Someone to go on dates with and be cute with. Someone to fall in love with. Someone to fuck.” I flinch, a grimace distorting my lower lip as I level my gaze with his—I did not mean to say that last part out loud.

Steve stands up from the couch, arms crossed over his chest and stare unrelenting. Bucky finally moves his eyes from the screen of my phone, squinting at me with incredulity.

But it’s Steve who speaks up to repeat, “You. have. us.”

Like puzzle pieces clicking into place, the meaning behind the minotaur’s statement slowly falls into perspective. My jaw drops, head cocking to the side and a dawning realization washes over me. Disbelief registers first, looking to the naga still sitting on the couch for an explanation to this lunacy. But Bucky just nods, looking between his boyfriend and me—confirming the statement like he hasn’t just thrown a giant fucking wrench into my perception of, well, everything.

“Since fucking when?!” I exclaim, absolutely flabbergasted by their agreement on the subject.

Both of them look taken aback by my outburst—finally relenting from their broody agitation—sharing a wary glance before turning back to me. Steve’s arms drop to his sides, his feet backing up a step closer to the couch. Bucky rises slowly from his seat, standing stalwart beside his boyfriend.

“What do you mean?” the naga asks, hesitantly sliding forward, head canting to the side. “You didn’t know?”

“Didn’t know what?!” My voice pitches high, and he flinches. Cringing at my own tone, I mumble an apology, still left reeling from their declaration.

“Li’l one,” Steve says hesitantly, “we’ve been dating for five months. You’re our girlfriend.”

“Says who?!” My heart beats frantic in my chest. My palms sweat and every inch of my body screams with the urge to run. Am I even still breathing right now? This is definitely not what was intended for movie night. My hand runs over my face, trying to puzzle out everything in my mind—remembering instances that would point toward close friendship, but not a whole goddamn relationship, especially when they’re already together. Am I missing something?

“You accepted the ring I gave you,” Steve mentions, gesturing toward my hand where the ring sits.

I glance at it, replying easily, “That was a thoughtful gift.”

“And you braided my hair.” Steve plucks at the long lock of golden hair that sits just before his ear and horn, adorned—still—with the beads I wove in this morning.

“Because you couldn’t get it quite right and Bucky was still asleep,” I justify, realizing that my voice is rising with panic, not understanding the meaning of what he’s saying. “I was just trying to help.”

Steve sighs in exasperation, brows pinched with a growing sense of defeat as he continues, “Bucky looks to you for warmth.” A gesture toward his boyfriend sends my gaze jumping in his direction.

“He always has,” I reason, with a weak wave of my hand, “since we met in college.”

Bucky glances away, clearly upset by something I’ve said or done. My heart clenches in my chest, throat dry. I shift on my feet, concentrating on Steve, though the fight drains from me until only trepidation remains.

“Bucky wraps his tail around your ankle.” Steve’s tone softens slightly, despite his surely rising agitation over the fact that I’m unable to grasp the implications of his examples.

“Yes?” I confirm, voice barely a whisper, arms hugging around my middle.

“Those are courting rituals, all of them. We thought you reciprocated,” Steve presses, his hand finding Bucky’s, their fingers intertwining and holding tight.

“No,” I croak, confusion and regret clashing within me, “no I absolutely did not.” My mind chants a constant loop of expletives, berating myself for being so unknowledgeable about their customs. “Oh, gods, I’m so sorry. I never realized.” My hand runs over my head, grasping at the back of my neck, unable to let myself even look at them.

“Do you not want us?” Bucky asks, his voice soft, pained, cracking over his words. His eyes pool with tears and his body angles behind Steve, hiding himself away from me.

My eyes dart up, mouth gaping open, heart absolutely shattering. Because, really—honest to God—the answer is a big, fat fucking yes. Of course I want them, want to shout it from the rooftop.

“I never said that,” I retort, finger pointing at the naga, trembling slightly until I draw it back, rubbing my palm over my face. I swallow a scream, feet itching to pace across the floor.

“But you’re upset?” Steve concludes, eyes glancing between Bucky and I, trying just as hard to reckon how this debacle will settle.

I breathe deeply, stretching my back and closing my eyes for a brief moment of respite from this whole situation. Shaking out my arms to dispel the residual anxiety and stress from my limbs. A calm clarity washes over me, a determination and confidence that grabs me and roots me to my spot. My eyes open and I face them head-on.

“Of course, I’m fucking upset,” I reply staring at my roommates, both balking at my response, “Apparently, my best friends have been my boyfriends for months and somehow none of us took a moment to ensure everyone was on the same page.” My teeth bite into my cheek as I fight back a smile that threatens to splash across my lips, face scrunching with the effort. Continuing my teasing tirade, I scold, “And, now I know and am fully onboard, but neither one of you has even tried to kiss me!”

It takes a moment for my statement to sink in, their brows furrowed low over their eyes as they gather what I’ve said. But then, in a moment of sheer bliss, they understand—joy spreading plain as day across their faces.

The way Bucky’s tail coils beneath him, eying me like a predator before he launches himself across the room—I shriek in delight. His body collides with mine, pushing me against the nearest wall as he takes my breath away, kissing me with relish, like I’m the only sustenance he’ll ever need. And there’s lips nipping at my neck, the radiant warmth of Steve’s larger body pressing against us from the side, my head gently angled away from Bucky’s curious forked tongue so that Steve can get his own indulgent taste.

I sigh into each of their mouths as we lock lips, flowing like liquid from kiss to kiss—tongues, jaws, necks, licking, sucking, moaning. When we part to breathe, I can only giggle before returning to their addicting lips, dazed and dizzy from their affection.

“Gods, I feel drunk,” I titter, pulling away from both of them, their chests heaving against mine so pleasantly. My head knocks back against the wall behind me, eyes fluttering shut with a satisfied sigh. “Please don’t let me be such a fucking idiot ever again,” I beg, voice dripping with mirth. “I mean, goddamn, I’ve been missing so much of the good stuff.”

“We thought you wanted to take things slow,” Bucky explains, his tongue flicking out between his lips, tickling along my neck until I shiver. “Thought you wanted to wait, or that you weren’t completely comfortable with it quite yet. That’s why we tried to keep it PG while you were in the room.”

I hum, head tilting and narrowed eyes dancing between them. “Thank you,” I say, genuinely touched by their consideration, despite it’s complete fallacy. “But to correct your assumption, I am 100% comfortable with the two of you just absolutely wrecking me until I can’t walk tomorrow.” My lips spread with a charming, almost innocent smile, absolutely savoring their stunned reactions.

Steve breaks out of it first, shaking his head and closing his parted lips, pupils blown with lust as he presses closer, dipping his head toward me. My heart flutters in my chest, excitement building within me along with a strange triumphant euphoria that leaves me dizzy.

“Well, then,” he huffs, his lips brushing against my ear, “we can definitely accommodate that.”

I whimper, knees knocking together as my thighs clench, white hot desire engulfing my body, core dripping with my arousal. “Yes, please,” I mewl, barely able to choke the syllables out as lust burns within me.

Steve moans, hand cupping my face as he grunts, “Gonna be the death of me, li’l one.”

Without any further warning, his great arms sweep me off my feet, cradling me close to his furry chest. He turns down the hallway, quick, purposeful strides leading us toward their room. But Bucky remains in place, staring after us with heated longing heavy in his gaze. And I just can’t have that—no, sir.

I push myself to look over Steve’s shoulder and hold out my hand toward the naga, beckoning him to follow. “Come on, Buck, don’t wanna miss the fun, do you?” I tease with a wink. Bucky jolts from his trance, slithering quickly after us until he can grasp my hand. I draw it to my lips, pressing light kisses to each of his claws, voice breathy as I whisper, “We got a lot of time to make up for, after all.”

A deep, throaty low rumbles in Steve’s chest accompanied by a sibilant murmur from Bucky’s. I preen in the heady delight of their desire and love—completely prepared to compensate for our lost time—and then some.

Continue on to the Sequel!

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bvccy · 3 years

Note

Hi!!! Hope you're doing great

Can I please have a mix between number 2 from the soft and 8 from the dark one

Thanks, lost of love ❤❤❤

Thank you so much, nonnie! I am so sorry this took so long, I meant to post yesterday but it wasn’t done. Also, the 8th dark prompt was requested just before you sent in this one, so that is filled separately here.

I tried to do the mix you asked for, and I took the liberty of writing this with Bucky (specifically 40s!BB), and I hope that it’s ok. It’s a bit of a more specific story, actually, that I’d wanted to write for a while. I also did a kind of first for me, because it involves Steve x reader as a backdrop 😂 Anyway.

Lots of love to you too, my dear! 💗💗💗

— PAIRING: soft!dark!Bucky x Reader • preserum!Steve x Reader — PROMPT: Asteria - gazing at one’s object of affection, from afar + Prassius - an impossible desire, and unclean love — LINKS: Masterlist • love stones prompt list — WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

It had taken long enough, and sometimes it seemed like it would never happen, but he finally found Steve a girlfriend — or rather, his girlfriend found him one. Dottie had exhausted several of her close friends and most acquaintances, but she knew how tired Bucky was of seeing his friend mope around, feeling like a third wheel, getting into trouble to pass the time. And honestly she liked Steve too, just not like that — but, wonder-worker that she was, Dottie found a girl that did.

She agreed to come on a double-date one night, and she and Stevie hit it right off. It was the first time Bucky met her too, and he didn't think much of the girl. Small, shy, not quite sickly-looking but not far from it, shoes a bit scuffed, clothes a bit too big for her and smelling of plain soap — in a word: perfect. She was perfect for his sickly, skinny friend who nobody else wanted, and by the looks of things, nobody had wanted her either because she seemed to have no idea what to do around a dance hall. As they were returning home that night, he even heard her confess to Steve that she had never been to one before.

They went out on two more dates, all four of them, within as many weeks. Bucky loved to dance, and Dottie too, but Steve and his girl weren't so fond of tripping over their feet and being laughed at. So they sat together at the table like a pair of broken toys, sharing an ice cream sundae, swinging shoulder-to-shoulder with the music when they liked the tune. Bucky waved at them when their eyes met, and they waved back and cheered at his dancefloor performance, but that happened less and less as they got caught up in each other. Steve would start to sketch things on the napkins while they chatted: the band, the sea of dancers, the fancy chandeliers, and eventually her.

"She said nobody's ever drawn her picture before," his friend said dreamily as they walked back, after they wished a good night to the girls. "Can you believe that?"

"Sure can…"

"She almost didn't let me do it. But she's so pretty, Buck."

"Mhm, nice girl."

"I mean yeah, she's no Dottie, but… I don't know, there's just somethin' I like so much about her… I guess her eyes, the way they look when she's smiling, or how her hair looks when the sun shines on it…"

"Get a load a' you," he grinned, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulder in a playful grip that moved his friend's whole body. "One dame's sweet on you, and all of a sudden you're Romeo."

"At least I'm not a punk like you," Steve teased, slipping from his grasp.

"You know what I like best about her?"

"What?" he asked, with a hint of jealousy.

But Bucky smirked without a care. "How she keeps you out of trouble."

It had, indeed, been a while since Steve got in an alley brawl, and by their fifth date his last few bruises healed. He'd almost gotten into one by a cotton candy stand at Coney Island, but his girl was there to pull him back.

"Stevie, leave him alone…"

"You heard what he said?!"

"Who cares," she sighed, clinging to his arm and throwing the other man a hateful look. "Come on, didn't you want to win me that stuffed teddy bear?"

"Better listen to your girl, pal."

"Oh go find a sty to wallow in," she hissed.

"I ought'a smack some manners into you, you two-bit broad!"

"I'd worry about my own manners if I were you, buddy." Bucky slipped between them, coming from behind, standing now close enough to punch the guy if things got heated. But, seeing himself outnumbered, the other man cursed them and left. Just then, Dottie finally caught up.

"What's going on?" she asked, a little out of breath.

Bucky turned around, and was met by the heart-melting sight of Steve and his girl holding each other, her hands on his cheeks as she quietly chastised him, but loving enough that it made him smile and giggle. She closed it with a kiss to his cheek that made the boy blush, and a kittenish rub of their noses together.

"Nothing, everything's fine."

It was around the time they went to see a movie together that Bucky's joy for Steve turned into something else. They sat in the back while some musical played, and through the flashing lights and the corner of his eye, he could see his friend with his sweetheart holding hands on top of her lap throughout the whole performance. Meanwhile Dottie kept rubbing up against him, sometimes leaning her head on his shoulder, daring in the darker scenes to kiss his neck, but when she tried to get more of his attention —

"Buckyyy, what's wrong?"

— he shook her off. Hearing his name spoken by her voice suddenly felt disappointing.

He caught himself staring more and more, and not just when they went out together. Sometimes, the girl came by and spent some time with Steve, looking at his newer sketches, trying her hand too — oh and how disgusting they looked, Steve taking advantage of the situation to sit behind, and wrap his arms around her, and whisper in her ear. The pair greeted him cheerfully when he stepped through the living room and caught them, and he grinned back at them as he took a glass of milk, but all his appetite was gone.

And when they walked together through the park, and he saw them holding hands again… When Steve dug for some change to get her an ice cream, and they giggled stupidly as they made a mess of sharing it… When she fell asleep by his side one night at the dance hall, and Stevie woke her up with a tickle down her cheek, and she shivered and murmured like a bird and hid her face in his unworthy shoulder…

"Why don't you ever wanna dance, doll?" he asked as they were fetching drinks.

"Not much good at it, I guess," she shrugged. "The fast ones make me dizzy and I always trip."

"I can teach you. It'll work out great! Stevie teaches you to draw, I teach you how to dance… What do you say?"

The girl seemed to think, but shook her head. "Hmmm… No, not right now. Thanks," she smiled politely. "Besides, what would Stevie do meanwhile?"

She told him no just for the sake of keeping his scrawny little friend company, and Bucky had never felt more insulted — not that she wouldn't dance with him, although that hurt enough, but that he couldn't remember the last dame that gave something up just to stick with him, or got into fights for him, or kissed his wounds away, or held his hand in hers with no ulterior motive, and he'd found a girl that did that, and he wasted her on Steve.

So what if she was a little on the smaller side? So what if her dresses didn't fit right? So what if she came down with the cold at every change of season? He put up with it for Steve and he wasn't half as charming. The girl, instead, looked very delicate, more feminine in her own way, like when she braced her fingers on a table as she talked and mindlessly swung back and forth, animated in whatever she was saying, and her digits bent in such a childish way he feared they'd break, and it only made him want to kiss them. Or when she took her shoes off when she came to their apartment and he could catch a hint of shapely ankle, just perfect for his grip, or a peachy pink instep small enough to fit his palm. And when she fell asleep on their couch that one time and Bucky saw her all curled up, and noticed the arch of her hips and the cinch of her waist and pictured how good it would feel to hold them, and angle them upward, and…

Slowly, he started to appreciate some of what his friend had said that night, because she did have lovely eyes, and hair that looked so soft and warm, and her scent, unburdened by perfume, was sweet and girlish, and her lips looked kissable, and her wrists and knees and ankles too…

"Going out again, tonight?" he asked as the blond boy fixed himself in the mirror.

"Yeah, she wants to try this new place we —"

"Alright, alright…" sighed Bucky, already sick of hearing more. "So, that's all you're gonna do?"

"Well… yeah."

And then he voiced an evil thought. "Don't you ever want to… you know?"

"Y-you think we should?" Steve asked, turning away from his pallid reflection.

Bucky sat sprawled across the couch, and shrugged. "If she really likes you, she'd be up for it, don't you think?"

"I don't know about that, Buck."

"No? Ok," he nodded. "After all, what do I know?"

The aftermath of this particular advice was a draught of dates for poor ol' Steve, because just like Bucky had expected, the girl shrinked at the suggestion and couldn't stand to see him. For a while.

"Can you believe it, Buck?!"

"Yeah…"

"She'll see me again!"

"That's great, Stevie."

"What's wrong? You're lookin' real dour today."

Bucky knew he shouldn't. "I just…" He knew that it was wrong. "Look, it's great that she's forgiven you, but you gotta be realistic about this, pal." He had been happy for Steve at one point, long ago.

"What do you mean?"

But that was before he saw just how much love a girl could give, and realised he'd never felt it.

"Just don't delude yourself this is anything more than what it looks like, ok? She's only forgiven you because she knows nobody else will have her."

"That's mean, Buck."

"Yeah, well… I'm just looking out for you. You're my best friend, you know that. I don't want you getting hurt." It stuck in his throat to say it, but the bitterness stuck more.

And after Steve went to bed that night, Bucky took out the box of candy and the pricey perfume he had bought for her, threw them in the trash, and firmly promised to himself to never wait too long again.

But as he learned a bit later on, when they went back to double-dates, he might not have had a chance at all, because there was an unwitting element of truth to this cruel tirade.

"I can't exactly blame you, honey," Dottie consoled her as they stood in line for the ladies room, not knowing Bucky was just behind the thin divider leading to the men's. "If he does something like that again, I know this other fella —"

"Oh no, Dot, please… We're fine now. He explained things and… he's really sweet, I think he just had a moment of —"

"But just let me introduce you to Jim, see if you don't like him better."

"I… I don't know."

"He's a real charmer," Dottie grinned, "and he has these big, broad hands, jaw like an anvil. He just broke it off with Marcie cause she was a flirt."

He didn't hear anything next, but the girl must've shook her head cause Dottie asked, "You're sure?" and "Really? Well, if you change your mind…"

"Thanks, Dot," she lightly laughed.

"I don't know why you're so stubborn though, it's not like he's that far out your league. You just need to fix your hair a little bit and get a better brand of powder."

"It's not that easy."

"It's all it took me to get Bucky on my arm. That, and a better set of heels," she laughed.

"Yeah but you've always been pretty, Dot. Like, really pretty, and you know it. I guess some girls are for the James Barnes of this world, and some are the for the Steves."

She giggled as she said it, with not a hint of anger or resentment, and that's what stung the worst.

Bucky arranged to go see a late night movie with Dottie after that, while Steve and his girl went back to the apartment to listen to a boxing match on the radio and have some cherry sodas. Dottie went ahead to buy the tickets while Bucky walked them home, and after wishing him good night, she went upstairs to set things up. Steve was meant to go to the store and buy the drinks, but he stayed to chat with his friend a while.

"I can get some eggs and milk as well while I'm at it," he offered, swinging on his heels with his hands in his pockets.

"Sure."

"Or do we have enough for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Go ahead and buy them, pal," Bucky smiled, pretending to be less tired than he felt.

"Ok. And what about — darn!"

"What is it?"

"I just realized, I forgot to give her the keys," he said, taking a hand out of his pocket and holding them out. "I gotta get to the store, can you go up and give them to her?"

"Er, why don't —"

"You know I always trip on the stairs when I'm in hurry, Buck, they haven't changed the lightbulb yet. Don't make me do it."

"Fine, I'll go."

"I owe you big."

"You always do," he grinned, and took the keys from him.

Steve made off for the corner store, while Bucky started the long slow climb upstairs. It was completely dark inside at that hour, and the few candles some neighbours left to light the way had all gone out.

"Stevie, is that you?" he heard her call, standing right outside their door.

He kept one hand against the wall and walked his way toward her, stopping as he heard her whisper, "I think I lost the keys."

Blindly, she moved her hand forward, coming right across his chest. He felt her jolt at the unexpected contact, then burst into a giggle. Bucky could already feel the fanning of her breath right at the level of his chin. With an unseen smile, he took her hand, and placed the keys within it.

"Oh," she laughed. "You had them."

As her hand closed around them his own moved up her shoulder, fingers threading around her hair, and as he touched her jaw he felt her tilting slightly upward, shivering under the feeling.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

He felt the warming tickle of her breath as he leaned close until, through the pitch black, he touched his lips to hers. Bucky did it lightly, just a little, just enough to taste and sip a kind of love he'd never really had. She stood surprised but took his kiss, and he felt her smiling into it, even beginning to kiss back just as he was parting from her.

"Your lips are softer than before," she giggled, in a sweet but altogether crushing way that made Bucky's heart beat stronger. "Stevie?"

Her hand moved through the air to touch him but felt nothing anymore, and down the stairs the heavy steps echoed, moving downward and away.

#James Buchanan Barnes #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #Steve Rogers imagine #Steve Rogers x reader #40s Bucky Barnes #preserum Steve Rogers #bv;answers #bv;fanfiction #bv;oneshots

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emerald-chaos · 3 years

Text

Coney Island

Hi friends! I appreciate all the love and response I’ve gotten for my writing over the past week or so. You guys sure know how to make a gal feel loved! This is another little idea that came one night when I was screaming to a good friend of mine (which is how a lot of my ideas come to me lmao) about how pre-serum 1940s Steve deserves the best. It’s not necessarily my best work, but Steve Rogers deserves some love too. I hope you guys enjoy! Also please feel free to let me know what you guys would like to see me write next :) Enjoy! xo

Pairing: Pre-Serum!Steve x Reader

Word count: 1895

Warnings: swearing and bad attempts at being funny lol

a/n: this was uploaded on mobile because I’m at work tonight so if it looks funky I apologize! I’ll try to fix it after I finish my 3 night stint lol.

As the sun began to set and the hot July air began to cool, Steve couldn’t believe the situation he’d found himself in yet again.

“Come on, pal,” Bucky chuckled as he pat his friend roughly on the shoulder, “I’ve never met someone who was this upset to meet up with a couple of beautiful ladies.”

“What? And somehow be the third wheel on a double date again?” Steve quipped back at his long time friend.

Bucky replied with a roll of his eyes and waved off his friend, turning his body toward the Coney Island parking lot to see if he could find the girls they were supposed to be meeting.

Steve regretted that he sounded so bitter, but these “double dates” that Bucky dragged him on were somewhat of a joke. It was always the same song and dance. The girl who Bucky was attempting to court would bring a friend, either for moral support or to try and set her up, and that friend would always be wholly disappointed when she saw that Steve was who she was stuck with. Steve knew that not every girl had to like him, of course, but occasionally it would be nice to be as sought after or wanted as Bucky was - or at least to not be looked through by every girl he met.

“There they are,” Bucky grinned, raising his arms above his head to signal the two, “over here!”

Steve took a deep breath and prepared himself for the inevitable look of disappointment that he had become so accustomed to. Instead, as he turned he was met with a stunning pair of eyes and a soft smile splayed across the most incredible pair of lips he’d ever laid his eyes on. Seeing you made him feel like all the air had been forced out of his lungs and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t catch his breath. The only other time he remembered experiencing the sensation was after a particularly bad time that he had gotten the living hell beat out of him in the alleyway - except this time, it was a good feeling.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Steve.” You said, your voice soft and warm - like honey.

There’s no way that could be a blush on your cheeks, right?

“Well, we already got our tickets,” Bucky’s voice brought Steve back to the present, “so what do you say we head in?”

---------

For the first time in, well, forever, Steve actually found himself enjoying the evening. The small talk didn’t feel stiff or forced, you never recoiled at any of the accidental touches throughout the night, and you actually looked him in the eyes when you were having a conversation. If you were disappointed in being stuck with Steve, you hid it pretty well.

The unrelenting sun had finally set and the colorful lights of various rides and booths reflected off of the water. You had been on a couple rides, enjoyed some hot dogs and funnel cakes, and now the group of you had been sucked into one of those carnival game booths. Bucky was attempting, as usual, to show off for your friend by trying to win her a stuffed animal.

“Would you like to take a walk or something?” Your voice captured Steve’s attention as he turned to look at you. You grinned a little before adding, “It’s kind of sickening to stand here and watch them act like this.”

Steve was caught off guard, both at the jab directed to your friends and the fact that you would even consider being alone with him.

“I, uh, yeah, sure, we could do that,” he nodded quickly, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

You smiled and started down the boardwalk.

This is too good to be true, right? He thought to himself. She’s obviously just trying to be nice.

“Steve?” your voice cut through his doubts. He hadn’t even realized that you made it several feet away from him and he was still planted in the same spot.

“Oh! Yeah, coming! Sorry!” Steve blushed as he hurried to catch up with you.

The two of you walked side by side for a few minutes, an oddly comfortable silence lingering between you.

“How are-”

“Have you-”

Steve’s eyes met yours as you both began to speak simultaneously and you shared a laugh together. Steve could feel the warmth rising in his face and he hoped to God that he wasn’t blushing like an idiot.

“You first,” he smiled softly.

“I was just going to ask how long you and James have known each other?” you asked, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

And there it was.

To anyone else the question would seem innocent, but Steve knew better. You had only drawn Steve away so you could question him about his friend - the same way every other person before you had done. There was a heat building inside Steve’s stomach. How could he be so stupid? How could he actually believe that someone like you could be interested in someone like him?

“T-the only reason I ask is,” you blurted, sounding...nervous? “well, because the two of you are so different. I mean, not in a bad way! Just like, James is so...cocky and loud and you’re...well you’re not.”

Steve stopped walking and looked at you. His thoughts were racing through his brain like a freight train. What exactly were you trying to say?

“God I'm so bad with words,” you laughed, shaking your head, “just forget I said anything at all.”

“You don’t have to feel bad for me, you know. If that’s what this is.” Steve couldn’t hold back the words, and they sounded much colder than he meant them to. He was just so tired of living in his friend’s shadow. The only time girls were ever nice to him was because they wanted to impress Bucky. He was sure that’s what you were doing too.

Once he noticed your brows furrow and a look of sadness overcome your face, he wanted nothing more than to rewind time and take his words back.

“Is that the type of person you think I am, Steve?” Your voice came out a little shaky, but Steve could still hear the hurt he had caused.

Steve sighed and rubbed his face.

“I’m sorry,” he started as his hands fell from his face and he met your gaze again, “I’m just...I’m not used to this.”

“And what exactly is this?” you asked, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“Someone on these double dats being interested in me.”

He could tell that his words caught you off guard. You were quiet and your arms slowly fell to your side. Steve was having trouble reading your expression, but it looked somewhere between someone who saw a puppy left on the side of the road and someone who was trying to understand a foreign language.

“Just...Just forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.” Steve waved his hand, as if he was trying to dismiss the conversation.

What he didn’t expect was for your hand to intertwine with his.

Steve’s gaze lingered on your connected hands for a minute before traveling to meet your eyes.

“You’re not very good at this, Rogers.” You said with a small laugh, “Here I was, thinking I was being too obvious.”

“I-I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Steve slowly responded.

You laughed again, the sound slowly becoming one of his favorites. Before he knew what was going on, you were pressed flush against him and capturing his lips with yours.

This would make the third time Steve had felt the wind be knocked from his lungs.

The kiss was slow, soft, and unlike any other he had ever experienced. It reminded him of the time his dad told him how he knew his mom was the one.

Well, when we kissed it felt like the rest of the world melted away. At that moment in time, it was just her and I.

A shiver ran down his spine as the warmth of your lips left his. As though he was drunk or coming out of a haze, it took him a moment to open his eyes and focus his vision back on you. There was a cute pinkness to your cheeks and you had a doe-eyed expression. It took a moment for the heartbeat in his ears to fade away - the joyful screams of park patrons and whirring of machinery returning.

“I like you, Steve,” You told him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze, “In fact, I've liked you for a while.”

You watched as Steve’s adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped.

“You,” Steve cleared his throat as the word came out as a squeak, “you do?”

That smile he adored returned to your lips as you nodded, “I do.”

Before he had an opportunity to respond, you were speaking again.

“I see you at school, you know, around town too. I’ve always noticed how kind you are to everyone. The way you hold the door open for the old ladies at Church. That one time you gave Johnny your lunch because his parents forgot to pack him one?” the smile on your face growing bigger as you recounted the times in which you fell for Steve Rogers, “I mean, what’s not to like.”

Steve felt an asthma attack coming on.

“James is nice and all,” you leaned in then, as if you were telling a secret, “but he’s also kind of a bastard.”

Steve couldn’t hold back the laugh that tumbled from his lips and you quickly joined him. This felt like some sort of twisted dream to him - you standing here, confessing your feelings to him. Never in a million years did he think someone as beautiful as you would even talk to him, let alone have feelings for him.

“Obviously I’m kidding, but in all honesty... you are one of the best men I’ve ever met, Steve. I’m sorry that any one has ever made you feel less than.” You squeezed his hand again.

This time it was Steve who initiated the kiss, holding your face between his hands as he moved his lips against yours. Your hands found a place on his waist and your bodies slotted against one another - like they were two puzzle pieces made to fit into one another. You tasted sweet, like funnel cake, and your lips were soft against his slightly chapped ones. Steve hadn’t kissed very many people in his lifetime, but if this were the last kiss he got to have - he could die a happy man.

“Ahem,”

The two of you separated to see your friend, holding a huge stuffed bear, and Bucky standing before you, grinning like fools.

“Are we interrupting something?” Bucky mocked the two of you, sending a wink to Steve.

“Shut it, Buck.” Steve warned, although he couldn’t help but grin back at his friend.

“Come on, lovebirds” Bucky teased, “my girl here wants to ride the ferris wheel again.”

You smoothed out your dress and smiled at Steve, lacing your fingers once again with his as the two of you followed your friends toward the ferris wheel.

For once, Steve was going to have to thank Bucky tomorrow.

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #preserum steve #Chris Evans characters #steve rogers fic #Steve Rogers imagine #captain america #captain america x you #steve rogers x y/n #marvel fanfiction #1940s!steve

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