#roger's wife

[wikiablogger]

Roger & Roger's Wife

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[miserable-something]

the history book on the shelf

[vampirecatprince]

T4T Coded Het Ships My Beloved

[veltana]

Shared desires

✦ Pairing: Bucky/Fem!Reader, Steve/Fem!Reader, brief Bucky/Steve

✦ Word count: ~4,4k

✦ Rating: Explicit

✦ Warnings/tags: Canon verse, Wife!Reader, Husband!Bucky, Best friend!Steve, cuckolding, degradation, praise, oral (fem receiving), spit sharing, manhandling, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, angst, hurt/comfort, feels, eventual polyamory, pet names (doll, honey).

✦ Note: NERVOUS! I've never written for an event before, but it gave me the push I needed to finally finish this! For @the-slumberparty's Sundae Bar we have Chocolate (a secret revealed) together with Neopolitan (love triangle). Topped with Chocolate Syrup (established relationship) and one could argue a dash of Sprinkles (special event)(it sure is special for them 😂) As always, reblogs, comments, and asks are very welcome ❤️ Enjoy 😋

Masterlist | AO3

Steve’s mouth is hanging slightly open, cheeks red, and eyes wide. "Excuse me?" he sputters. "You're the only one I trust with this, if you don't feel comfortable I get it, but I thought I’d ask.” "But Buck…" Steve begins, momentarily lost for words, then says, "I don't want to cause a rift between you and your wife." "You wouldn't, we've talked it over so many times and honestly you're the only one she's okay with." "Me?" Bucky reaches over to place a hand on Steve's knee, squeezing it reassuringly. "You've been at our side since the beginning, she knows you, and knows you would never hurt us."

Then he leans back with a smirk. "And don't think I didn't see you looking at her last time we went out drinking." Steve flushes even more, looking away, mumbling, "Those pants should be illegal." Bucky laughs in response.

With a sigh, Steve looks at his best friend, his long lost brother, the person he went through hell to get back. If Bucky knew the truth he wouldn't be laughing. For a second Steve contemplates telling him but as he's done for years, he keeps his deepest secret inside and instead says. "Just let me think about it, okay? It doesn't mean it's a no but just… I need to think, okay?" "Take your time," Bucky reassures him.

***

Several hours later you're ordering take-out while waiting for Bucky to get home from the compound. You could cook but your body is jittery with nervous energy and it's hard to concentrate. Bucky asked Steve today and you have yet to learn how it went. Your husband could have texted you, but Bucky often forgets that texting exists.

When the key turns in the lock you can't keep your cool any longer. Running into the hallway just as Bucky kicks off his shoes you don't even pretend to be nonchalant about it. "Well?" you ask.

With a chuckle, Bucky envelopes you in a hug. To be in his arms is the best feeling in the world. Surrounded by his scent and his warmth, knowing you're safe and cared for. "He's going to think about it, didn't say no. He was just shocked." Pulling back you squeeze Bucky's waist. "I understand that. I was too when you first brought it up," you note.

Bucky starts backing you out of the hallway until your back meets a wall. "But now you can't stop thinking about it," his deep voice taunts, making you light up with desire. "Now you want to get fucked while I watch and get humiliated.” The sound coming from your throat makes it impossible for you to deny it.

***

A few weeks later, you’re sitting beside Bucky, across from Steve in your living room. The guys have beers and you have a glass of wine. Steve's cheeks have been pink since he stepped through the door and looked at you. "I understand if you think it's a little… odd," you say to him. "And even if you say yes now, you can always change your mind later."

Steve nods and takes a swing from the bottle. He's not going to get drunk but it eases the nerves. "So, I'll fuck you while Bucky watches?" "Yeah," you nod. Steve puts the bottle down, dragging a hand over his face. "God, I'm going to be honest, I'm scared it's going to fuck up our friendship Buck. What if we do this and it's not what you imagined?" Bucky nods, but his answer is sure when he responds. "Then we'll stop. And there are no hard feelings. The same goes for you, even if we're right in the middle of it and it starts to feel wrong, just say the word and it stops right away."

Steve doesn’t look convinced. Honestly, you're just glad he wanted to come over and discuss it. A little idea forms in your head. You put down the wine. "How about a trial run?" you suggest. Both men turn to look at you but you only keep your attention on Steve. "If you're okay with it, I'll sit on your lap. If that feels alright we can share a kiss while Bucky watches and if it feels wrong it doesn't have to go any further."

Steve thinks for a moment, then agrees. A small groan comes from Bucky, just the thought of it makes him aroused. You kiss him on the cheek before standing up and slowly walking over to Steve. His eyes follow your every move but he doesn’t look scared.

When you straddle him, his hands immediately come to rest on your hips but then it's as if he realizes what he's done and stiffens. "It's okay," you encourage him. "You can touch me." He relaxes minimally and you settle down completely. "You can stop anytime," you remind him as you cup his bearded face. His tongue comes out and wets his plush lips, nodding.

You let your thumbs run along his cheeks, never breaking eye contact and the moment feels so intimate. You’re unsure what to expect, but your pulse picks up as he becomes more confident, moving his hands up and down your sides. A finger slips in under your sweater and brushes your skin. It sends a shiver down your spine and a pleased whimper comes out of your throat. That seems to encourage him and the light touches turn heavier.

Carefully you lean forward, giving Steve time to stop or to pull away. The hesitation on his face from earlier has fled and instead, you see a spark of eagerness. Pressing your lips softly against his, it takes a second for him to return it.

Turns out Steve Rogers is a great kisser. After sliding your lips together he quickly turns bolder, opening your mouth with his and finding your tongue to play with. His touches get greedier too. When both his hands shift in under your sweater to feel your naked skin you whimper again, longing for more of it. Without noticing you’ve started moving, seeking friction for the throbbing between your legs.

"Oh, fuck yes," you hear Bucky grunt behind you. That makes Steve break the kiss, you meet his wild eyes, pupils blown wide from lust.

"Your husband is getting off on you grinding in my lap, honey." You’ve never heard his voice so deep before. "He has his hand inside his pants, stroking his pathetic little dick while you do your best to hump me.” "Fuckfuckfuck," you hear from Bucky. With a whine you press down hard, feeling that Steve is just as affected as you. With difficulty, you stop yourself from going to the floor and beg to suck his dick. Instead, the both of you continue with the heated make-out session, your hands now heavy on Steve’s body, wishing you had his skin against yours.

The sounds coming from Bucky on the couch grow more urgent and it turns you on to know he's getting off to you making out with Steve. It feels wrong and so right at the same time. Steve nips your lower lip before kissing down your neck, saying, "I can't wait to fuck that sweet cunt of yours." Both you and Bucky moan. "Gonna give you a night you've never had before and make sure every time your husband fucks you all you can think about is my dick."

That makes Bucky lose it, a small shout declaring his climax. Steve and you slow down the tempo of your kissing until it's just soft, barely there caresses. Though the need is alight in your body, coherent thoughts start to tumble back in and after a few minutes, you pull back from him. His lips are swollen, and you feel a tinge of reproach for getting carried away with him. Cupping his face once more you ask, "How are you feeling?" He gives a dry laugh, "It's a mix of shame and horniness."

When you frown he grabs your hands to remove them from his face, squeezing them before letting go. "It's alright, it felt good while it was happening,” he reassures you, before asking over your shoulder. “How about you Buck?" "That's the hardest I've ever come from jerking off in my life I think." Both Steve and you laugh as you collapse against his chest. Immediately he starts caressing your back. You get a familiar feeling in your chest, one you usually only get when Bucky holds you.

"How about you, doll?" Bucky asks. "I liked knowing I was doing something to get you off at the same time as it was kind of "wrong"." A moment later you get off Steve, and sit down on the couch beside Bucky again. Somehow it feels weird to be away from him but you chalk it up to the sexual desire still prominent in your body.

“How about another meeting in a week or so? Get everyone to think it through another round and then we can decide on a date and location?” Bucky suggests. You nod and Steve does too.

***

On a Friday, after numerous more talks to plan the evening and all of you getting your STD tests back clean, it's finally time. The excitement is palpable in the hotel room you decide to stay in.

At Steve and Bucky’s request, you're wearing a very tight dress and the smallest pieces of underwear known to man.

Steve is sitting at the foot of the bed, white shirt tucked into black slacks like he's heading out to dinner, not about to fuck his best friend's wife. Bucky is in jeans and one of his henleys, placing an armchair at the side of the bed.

Even though you know what is about to happen, you feel nervous, but also excited to fulfill your husband's kink. When you take your place in front of Steve, meeting his hungry eyes, there is a buzz in your body making you bite your lip.

"Ready?" Bucky asks and you both nod. The moment Bucky sits down you climb onto Steve's lap. The smooth material of his slacks caresses your inner thighs as you settle. Immediately his hands land at your waists and starts stroking your sides, down to your ass, squeezing and pressing you just a little bit closer. Those blue eyes are a storm, filled with lust and need. Your face probably mirrors his and a second later your lips are pressed together.

Both of you moan and Steve fists the fabric of the dress, threatening to tear it to shreds. A soft groan is heard, and both of you smile into the kiss. Steve pulls away, making you pout, but he tsks at you. "Just be happy that I'm the one kissing you and not the shitty husband you have.”

Something in you wants to defend Bucky because he's not a shitty husband. He's amazing in every way! But you know that this is what he wants, it's part of the game. Bucky gets off on Steve's degradation. You can't deny him that.

Then he's kissing you again, heavier than earlier. Your hands grab his head, messing up the semi-styled hair, anchoring you to him. On their own accord, your hips roll against Steve's crotch, pulling moans from the both of you.

A second later he has you flipped onto your back, smiling down deviously as you stare at him in shock. But when he presses his clothed cock to your soaked panties the shock is forgotten. Pleasure engulfs every sense of your being.

"There you go honey, let me take care of you, let me make you feel better than your husband ever could." With a whine you jerk against him, trying to find relief for the ache in your cunt, but instead, he pulls away, taking your panties with him. Without looking he throws them Bucky's way and another groan comes from him when he feels how wet they are. Steve gets off the bed and starts unbuttoning his shirt. "Show your husband, honey. Show him how fucking wet you are for me."

With a whimper, you spread your legs. The air feels cool against your heated flesh. You don't dare to look at Bucky but understand he sees what Steve wants him to when a broken moan can be heard through the room.

"Touch yourself," Steve commands, and with shaking fingers you find your entrance, letting one sink it into yourself, wondering if you've ever been this wet before.

Slowly you move it, all while watching Steve get undressed. He's in no hurry. With a thick voice, he says, "One more, but don't you dare come."

With stuttered breath push another finger in. The sound that fills the room is obscene but leaves no doubt about how horny you are. When Steve is down to his underwear he pulls the fingers from you, sucking them into his mouth, groaning at the taste. After licking them clean he releases them with a pop and smirks at you. Then he turns to Bucky and it's the first time you get a good look at him.

His hands are gripping the arms of the chair in a death grip, you're surprised his vibranium hand hasn't done more damage. He's taken off his henley and his cock is out, hard and leaking onto his abdomen. Glassy eyes follow Steve's movements. The blond grabs Bucky's face, forcing his mouth open and tilting his head back. Immediately Bucky sticks out his tongue and from above Steve lets his spit run down into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky's dick twitches and leaks more. "That's the only fucking taste you'll have of your wife tonight. Say thank you." Steve rumbles. As soon as Bucky has swallowed down the mix of your slick and Steve's spit he says "Thank you," in a voice hoarser than you've ever heard before.

Steve comes back to you, pulling your dress off and stepping out of his underwear before settling on the bed and pressing your legs up against your stomach. "Now I'm going to get a proper taste of that sweet cunt," he grins.

"Steve!" you cry and your hands immediately find his hair as he dives in. His tongue travels from your opening to your clit, over and over again, soaking you in his spit until you feel it running down your ass. He sucks and licks, alternating pressure, and speed to make sure you're never quite getting enough to make you come but to keep you constantly on edge. The moment he sinks two fingers into you, you arch off the bed and a high-pitched wail leaves your mouth.

You're at the brink of shattering. The current of the climax is cursing through your body. Incoherent babbling fills the room as you try to urge Steve to take pity on you. Luckily for you, he does and concentrates the movements of his tongue to your clit, as his fingers press against your G-spot. A surge of heat fills your core, making it almost unbearable before it takes you and you come with a shout.

Steve works you through it until you're twitching from oversensitivity, pressing on his forehead to get him to stop. "Almost pushed my fingers right out with that," he muses, twisting them, pumping slowly. "Bet your husband has never made you come so hard."

A groan from Bucky accompanies your whimper. "Now tell me what you need honey." "I need you inside me!" "But my fingers are already inside," Steve makes a point by pressing the two fingers inside against your G-spot, making you lose your train of thought for a second.

"I- I mean…" you try. "Yes?" "More, I need more." "Just say the words." "I need your cock inside me, Steve, please!"

Seconds after his fingers have left you, he flips you onto your stomach, then puts you on your hands and knees right at the edge of the bed, at an angle where Bucky can see you. You're trembling with anticipation of what's coming.

Steve caresses your ass and legs, lightly dragging his fingers over your swollen clit and soaked center. "I can't believe this pretty fucking cunt is wasted on your husband." "Please, Steve!" "I bet you're never this wet for him" "No!" "You want me to fuck your sweet cunt, honey?" "Yes!" "Make it drip with my cum?" "Please!" "Should I knock you up, right here in front of your husband?" "Fuck me! Please!" As you feel the warm head against your cunt your arms collapse, your cheek resting against the bed.

"I love it when you beg for me," his strained voice is deep as he pushes inside. Moans, whimpers, and wails fall from your lips once he starts moving. He's big, just like Bucky, and you love to feel so full. You push back as he thrusts forward, the sound of skin against skin filling the room.

Suddenly there is a hand on your neck, making you turn your head until you see Bucky at the edge of your vision. "Tell your husband how my cock feels!" Steve demands. "Ah! Bucky! It feels so good!"

Bucky is still not touching his cock, his mouth is slightly open, his whole face red as he watches you. "Yeah, doll, you like it?" "I do! I do!" "Is he big?" "Yes! I feel so full!" That makes Steve laugh. "All she wants is a big dick and all she got was you," Steve tells Bucky.

Bucky is about to burst with those words and the armchair creeks in his grip. Then Steve turns your head again so you can't see him anymore. Instead, you're focused on how he's fucking you rough and deep. "You're gripping me so tight honey, it's like you don't want to let me go." You answer with a strangled moan. "Yeah, you're too full of cock to talk, just be a good little wife and take what I give you."

And you do, body going almost boneless as Steve fucks you. Carefully another orgasm starts to build in your lower stomach, and soon it has you wiggling and whining, needing release.

Steve's hand finds your aching clit. "That's it," he groans. "I need you to come on my cock before I fill you up with my cum. Make sure you tell your husband whose dick it is you're coming on, honey. I want it seared into his mind. Every time he fucks you from now on all he's going to remember is how loud you screamed my name." Nodding helplessly you do as he says and as the dam breaks and pleasure rushes through you, you wail Steve's name.

A moment later the telltale sign of Steve's orgasm floods you and he groans your name. For a moment his hips are plastered to you, keeping everything inside. Then he pulls out and the cum runs down your legs. When he lets go of your hips you don't have the strength to keep yourself up anymore. Falling to the side you watch Steve walk over to Bucky, pulling him up and pushing him towards you. "Go fuck my cum back into your wife."

Bucky all but scrambles over to you, ridding himself of his pants in the process before carefully turning you over onto your back and sinking into you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, your lips finding his in a familiar dance.

"I won't last, doll," he confesses. "Don't need you to," you promise with a smile. A second later Bucky’s hips stutter, his orgasm causing him to cry out against your shoulder. It lasts longer than usual and brings a wide smile to your lips, knowing Bucky's fantasy is fulfilled.

When he's done he collapses on top of you, his weight heavy but welcoming, making you feel safe and loved. A moment later you look over at the armchair, expecting to find Steve, but he’s not there. His clothes are gone too and then you hear the door to the hotel room shut.

***

The anxiety in Bucky's chest grows for every dial tone that sounds and Steve doesn't pick up. The whole weekend he’s tried to get a hold of him but he hasn't answered his phone or been seen at the compound. Bucky sent hundreds of texts, all being delivered but none replied to. There is a hole in his chest where his best friend used to live and it feels like he's getting a glimpse into how it was for Steve to find him and lose him over and over again.

Bucky wanders into the exhibition, eyes searching for Steve. This is the last place on his list of where he could be. After this, he's out of ideas. Then Steve might as well have gone to outer space and Bucky shudders at the thought of searching aimlessly through the galaxies for him. But he would do it.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he spots a familiar back. As Bucky steps up beside him, Steve’s shoulders go stiff. "You left," Bucky states. "I know," Steve responds, looking down.

"Why? We agreed to talk afterward to make sure everyone was feeling okay. It's called aftercare for a reason." "I don't know, just seeing the two of you. You love each other so much." "We do. But we love you too."

Steve huffs at that and Bucky's eyebrows draw together. "Am I going to have to beat it out of you, punk?" "Maybe this conversation is better somewhere else," Steve suggests, glancing around. "How about we go to our place? She's worried sick about you." Steve nods and together they leave the museum.

***

You’re going to wear a hole into the floor with your endless pacing. Over and over again you replay the moments after hearing the door shut. The look on Bucky’s face. The scramble to find clothes and run after Steve. Not finding him anywhere. Both of you frantically calling him over and over again.

Then you hear Bucky's truck. And a motorcycle. Your bare feet start running before you know it and you fling the door open to see Steve get off his bike. A heartbeat later you're running across the lawn. He sees you and he’s confused, but when you jump into his arms he catches you without hesitation.

You want to scream and beat him but instead, you cling to him. Bucky says something but you can't hear it and then you feel Steve start heading towards the house.

"Doll, you have to let go," Bucky's soft voice says as Steve sits on the couch. In response, you shake your head like a petulant child. "Yes, you do, come on," It's a little sterner now. "Honey, I'm not disappearing again. I promise." Only then do you slide to the side so you're sitting next to Steve, Bucky on the other side of him.

"We're very sorry we got you into this Steve," Bucky begins right away. "It was supposed to be a fun night for all of us." Finding Steve’s hand you squeeze it to let him know you agree with what Bucky's saying. "We never wanted to hurt you," you whisper.

There is a long beat of silence and you're about to speak again but Steve says, "It's my fault that I wasn't honest with the two of you." His eyes are downcast and he brings your hand into his lap, then grabs Bucky's too. "I should have said something earlier but I was scared."

"Of what Stevie?" you ask softly. "We want you to be happy, you can tell us anything." Steve snorts, weaving all your fingers together. "Scared to tell my best friend and his lovely wife that I care for them more than I should. That when I can't sleep, I wish I could feel their warm bodies beside me. That every time I see them kiss, smile, and be utterly happy together I'm both jealous and delighted. I want the two of you to have a good life. But I also want to be a part of that life, more than just as a friend."

The confession knocks the air from your lungs and you share a look with Bucky. He speaks first. "Steve, I had no idea." "That's kind of the point." "And when I suggested that you join us…" Bucky trails off. "I saw it as the only opportunity to be with the two of you, even if it was just for one night." "And when we were done…" You try to think of it from Steve's perspective. "The way you love each other is so evident. I'll never be able to fit into that. Everything just felt wrong and that I was an intruder. So I left. I know I shouldn't have but I was so disgusted with myself I couldn't stand it."

"Oh Stevie," you lean into his side. Never in a million years could you have predicted this. "I understand if you're feeling like you never want to see me again and I’m truly sorry I hurt you.”

"Hey, Steve, listen." Bucky untangles your hands to grip Steve's face and turn it towards him. "We have talked about a lot of things throughout our marriage. We both agree that even if we're not actively looking for someone else, if someone would come along one day that we both feel would complete us, then we would pursue that person and ask if that's something they're interested in. Apparently, we've both been blind because that person has been right in front of us this whole time."

As soon as Bucky says the words you know they are true. If this weekend has proved anything it is that you and Bucky love Steve just as much as you love each other.

The look on Steve's face says he doesn't believe it. "You've already kissed my wife. Can I kiss you, Steve?"

The disbelief is still evident but he nods and Bucky slowly leans in. Steve's eyelids flutter shut the moment their lips meet and you watch as your husband and his best friend find something new in each other. Steve's free hand comes up and grips Bucky's neck, at the same time and he squeezes your hand. Their kiss is slow and sensual, containing emotions that have been locked away for years. It's beautiful to watch.

As they break apart a blush rises in Steve's cheeks and a smile cracks his face. Bucky grins back at him in answer. Everything isn't solved or worked out but now the ground under you feels more stable to stand on and you know that together with these two men there is nothing the world can't throw at you that you won't be able to handle.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥

She was content and in love, she thought she married the one she would spend the rest of her life with. Fate seemed to have another plan for her. One that involved her to finally learn the truth, causing two relationships to be tragically ruined and hidden memories to suddenly come to light. She finally gets on the path she was meant to be on in the beginning.

18+ only please, do not copy, repost or translate our works. You are responsible for your own media consumption. headers are made by me.

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

!warning! This series will include heartbreak, divorce, detailed cheating, bad thoughts towards self, betrayal, back-stabbing, horrible relationships, slight gaslighting and manipulation, smut (from cheating and maybe when she finds happiness).

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬:

part 1 - 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 2 - 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 3 - 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 4 - 𝐢 𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞...

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part 5 - 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 6 - 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

part 7 - 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

೫˚🌧️❀ *ૢ💔೫˚💍

[hylialeia]

season 3 Eleanor is genuinely so depressing like the way she's so quiet and demure compared to in the first two seasons, the way her outfits become more refined/restrictive, how she stands in the background as support, finally listened to but only in relation to the man who's actually in charge... she really is the embodiment of nassau under English rule, welcoming its new cage until it starts to chafe just one season later.

[blanche-elizabeth-devereaux]

an embroidery piece I made inspired by Arthur Morgan, THE MAN HIMSELF (also titled "Oh Arthur..." :'))

I've wanted to do something with a deer skull for a while now and it just felt fitting. Arthur didn't have much of a chance, did he? even before the events of the game, I think. every decision he made (or was coerced into) entangled him further and further in his own destruction.

as for the quote: it's raw, it's painful, and so many people can relate to it, even without realizing. in spite of his soft tone, Arthur says it to Sadie with finality and conviction. they're words that can make you stop and reflect on your own experiences. I know it's already been analyzed within the fandom so I won't waste anybody's time by adding another drop to an ocean of studies. but I'll just say that it means a lot to me.

going through a traumatic event changes you. it's can be as simple as that.

(& a big thank you to the amazing @big-boah for helping me with copying Arthur's handwriting <3)

[meidui]

steve and natasha + looking to each other

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Milk and Cookies » Steve Rogers/Captain America

December 5th

Pairings: Husband/Dad!Steve Rogers x Wife/Mom!Reader with son James

Summary: Steve’s and Y/N’s 4 year old son can’t sleep so Steve lets him snack on milk and cookies.

Warnings: Fluff, language, nothing but cuteness, hugs and kisses, cuddling, nicknames for son (buddy, sweetie), pet names for Y/N (sweetheart)

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

“Daddy!” Steve hears a little voice.

“Daddy!” He hears again with a small hand tapping his arm.

Steve’s eyes open to see his and your 4 year old son James standing on his side of the bed. He checked the time on his phone which displayed 1:32am.

“What’s wrong, buddy? Why aren’t you in bed?” Steve asks, rubbing his eyes.

“Can’t sleep.” James says with a pout.

“You can’t sleep?” He says.

“No.” James nodded his head.

“I have an idea.” Steve says, getting out of bed.

Steve picked up James and quietly went downstairs so him and James didn’t wake you up. Steve sat James on the counter and rummaged through the cabinets causing James to furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“What you doing, daddy?” James asks.

“Looking for the cookies.” He says.

“Cookies?” James asks, tilting his head slightly.

“Yes. Cookies.” Steve says.

When Steve found the cookies, he put them on the counter next to James and grabbed two cups and the milk from the fridge.

“Your grandma did this when I was your age when I couldn’t sleep.” Steve says as he poured milk in the cups.

“Your mommy did let you eat milk and cookies past your bedtime?” James asks.

“Sometimes.” He says with a smile.

Steve grabbed a couple of cookies, giving one to James. James took it from his daddy and dipped it in the milk and took a bite of it.

“Daddy, who was I named after?” James asks curiously.

“You were named after uncle Bucky. Daddy’s best friend.” Steve tells him.

“I thought his name was Bucky?” He asks confused.

“It is. His middle name is Buchanan, but he goes by Bucky.” Steve explains.

“Oh ok.” James eats the rest of his cookie. “Can I watch cartoons?” He asks.

“Normally I would say no, but yes you can. Don’t tell mommy.” He says.

“No tell mommy.” James says.

Steve cleaned up the little mess of cookie crumbs on the counter and put the cookies away. He picked James up off the counter and walked to the living room and sat down on the couch with him in his arms.

“What do you want to watch?” Steve asks, turning on the TV.

“SpongeBob!” James says excitedly, clapping his hands.

“Why SpongeBob?” He asks.

“Uncle Peter lets me watch it at his house and he’s funny!” He tells his daddy.

Steve chuckled at his son’s cuteness and put SpongeBob on. It didn’t take long for James to fall asleep. Steve noticed and grabbed a blanket from the other side of the couch. He carefully laid down with James on his chest and covered the both of them up. He wrapped his arms around him protectively and kissed the top of his head. Steve fell asleep soon after.

When morning came, you rolled over to wrap your arm around your husband only to find out that he wasn’t in bed. You got out of bed and went to James’s bedroom, thinking Steve was in there, but he wasn’t. You began to panic. You quickly went downstairs, but heard the sound of the TV coming from the living room. You went to the living room to see James playing with some of his toys on the floor and Steve sleeping on the couch which made you feel relieved. James looked up and smiled.

“Good morning, mommy!” James smiles.

“Good morning, sweetie!” You bent down to kiss his forehead.

“Daddy sleeping.” He says in almost a whisper.

“I see that.” You say.

You sat down on the couch and leaned down to give Steve a kiss on his cheek making him smile. He opened his eyes to see you sitting next to him. Steve sat up and gave you a sweet kiss on your lips.

“Do you want to explain why you were in bed when I woke up?” You asked your husband.

“James couldn’t sleep last night.” Steve says.

“Daddy let me eat milk and cookies and let me watch cartoons, but you’re not supposed to know!” James chimes in.

“Oh really?” You say, looking at your husband.

“I thought it would help him sleep.” He says.

“I did go back to sleeps!” James says.

“Well that’s good. What do you want for breakfast?” You asked.

“Pancakes!” James says with excitement.

“Alright. You two stay here and I’ll make breakfast.” You say, standing up and went to the kitchen.

“Thank you!” James and Steve say at the same time.

“You’re welcome!” You say back.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

-Bucky’s Doll

[ronearoundblindly]

The Right Partner (2/3)

Steve Rogers x lab tech!Reader

Take My Whole Life, Too, Part One (see previous or series)

Summary: Your honeymoon with Steve Rogers begins.

Warnings for vague smut (don't worry, I make up for it in pt2), cuteass!Steeb being extra, unrealistic adorable sh*t, and my complete lack of shame about it. MINORS DNI. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist instead, but this one isn't for you! WC 3.1k

It’s bright and loud.

Well, there is light—a pale blue that gnaws at your heavy eyelids—and the song of birds.

The birds are, frankly, irrationally aggressive even for late morning.

You groan and turn over toward the inside of the tent, hoping for an hour more of darkness, maybe two.

Dehydrated. That’s what this heavy, sluggish feeling is. You should have had twice the water you managed to drink yesterday. No one would fault you for having other priorities on your wedding day though.

Your fingers branch out to find the bed empty.

From your exposed shoulder beyond the comforter, you gauge it is quite chilly here wherever you are. You didn’t even ask Steve if he found out what state (or country) you two landed in. Who cares? You burrow deeper, peeking over the thick quilted seam to see—

“What are you doing?”

Steve’s back is to you when you hear a metallic clatter in the utility sink. He whips around in just his boxers, raising a hand to cover his mouth and garble out “nothing.”

You’re prone and below eye level to the countertop, so you sit up to look while Steve poorly hides his sin by leaning over the surface.

He swallows heavily.

“You want some tea,” he rushes to ask in a failingly casual tone. “I’ve got water heating.”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” you jump up to stand on the mattress, knocking your head against the springy ceiling, and step down. “Are you eating our wedding cake without me?”

“You wouldn’t even give me some yesterday,” he whines, placing himself protectively between your approach and the confection. His guilty brows raise with sincerity.

“Oh, please! You got cake, and then you—” you poke his bare chest, glancing at the now quarter-demolished top tier “—you complained it wasn’t your flavor!”

“But…” Steve simply points. No other words come to mind based on his still-stunned expression.

“Fine,” you chuckle, relaxing to stretch your large sweater over your chilled hands and thighs, “I won’t tell anyone you’re nothing but a little sweets-thief. Hot tea sounds lovely though.”

“Allow me,” he smiles and leans in for a kiss, tasting of sugar and lemon like the night you got engaged, the night you first…oof. After just one reminder, the sweater is suddenly plenty warm.

“Thank you.”

The flood of mental images rushes from your brain, down your body, to your full bladder.

Next stop: the bathroom.

While he sorts out your morning boost, you chug a bottle of water to help with the rough, sluggish feeling weighing on you. No soreness though, which is good.

Steve returns triumphant with a camping mug and steeping, steaming wakeup juice, and you give him your own soft peck on his cheek.

No doubt he continues his dessert for breakfast the instant you step out to use the facilities aboard the jet. Good, he deserves all the cake, as much as he wants, whenever he wants.

The tiny mirror isn’t as scary as you thought it would be, but you do have to rummage around for a few straggling hairpins. A splash of cool water on your face just before you emerge is more refreshing than expected, too. The day is fresh, you are fresh, and your marriage is fresh.

You cradle the mug in your palms, making to leave, when your gown catches your eye hanging at the locker closest to the ramp, right beside Steve’s uniform.

Yesterday feels like the most wonderful, blinding blur.

All the military men (and women) wore their first uniforms, and you have to admit it created a sharp-looking bunch. Geeta’s uniform was only from nine years ago, Wilson’s just over fifteen, Rhodes’s nearly thirty, and of course, Steve and Bucky’s come in at eighty years old. Not shockingly, their uniforms were replicas, but the boys were very picky about the details.

Gracie, Natasha, Ro, Pepper, Tony and Bruce all kept their fancy dress within the same neutral palette. Morgan and Felicity were flower (leaf) girls. Standing at the alter as a bride, a groom, and their ‘besties,’ you amassed a punk, a jerk, a nerd, and a Booboo.

Your subdued red, white, and blue gown made the boldest statement of the day.

You were so worried yesterday morning. You thought the statement would read as if you were devoting yourself to an ideal, harping that you are in some ways ‘Misses America,’ but it’s more than that. You didn’t want to walk down that aisle and sign over who you are, to belong to someone else, even someone as magnificent as Steve Rogers.

Then you saw his face.

That man belongs to you as much as you belong to him. The look of pure, undiluted, delighted adoration nearly knocked you over. You’re lucky you made it through your vows. You melted inside to help your poor, fumbling Sketch with his own speech. Bucky winked once you finally got his buddy to the important bit.

Then that kiss.

Gosh, all this time you thought maybe the desperate heat of your first kiss in an evacuated AvIn hallway couldn’t be recreated—much less topped—but you were wrong. The boning in your bodice is the real hero, that’s for sure. Girl’s gotta have good support when it counts.

Speaking of being weak for a man, you think, sipping at hot tea, better get back in there. That, plus your legs are freezing.

A polaroid snaps the instant you cross the zip-up threshold, along with praises of your beauty. You blink rapidly but smile.

“What’s that?”

“Your wedding present,” Steve beams. He fakes a frown at your following ‘we weren’t doing presents’ look. “Not big ones. They’re just for fun.”

He picks up another Canon film camera, a hefty black and silver thing from his hard-sided suitcase, and hands it to you.

“Thought they’d be nice for the trip.”

You weigh it in your hands, eye the Polaroid, then switch with Steve.

“That one’s more of an artsy-fartsy Sketch thing,” you say, stepping around him with your new toy, rushing to grab toasty sweatpants from your own bag.

As you bend over to pull out the garment though, you hear a mechanical click and whip around.

Steve still faces away from you, but his head is slightly turned and he softly whistles, so of course, you lift your Polaroid and snap a picture of his ass, too. He wrinkles his nose, looking over his shoulder with an unhidden smile. You shake out the photo card provocatively while he suits up for the fireside in a sweater and jeans.

He glances at the developed shot and, seeming satisfied, plants one more kiss on your forehead.

He hums as he holds up his picture of you entering the tent, thumb tracing the line of your hip exposed like it was on the glossy magazine pages after your bear debacle.

“Yes, ‘m out there distracting all the wild animals,” you joke.

“It’s working,” he mutters. “Hungry, Misses Rogers?”

Yeah, you think, but you’ll need fewer clothes again. Instead, your stomach gurgles in response.

“Why? Do I finally get some cake?”

“Just a taste.” He kisses your lips, which you lick immediately after. “But I was thinking more like eggs. The fire’s ready.”

Your stomach growls louder. “Shhh, peanut gallery.”

Steve puts a hand over your stomach, chuckling. “At least she’s honest.”

The light pressure of his wide palm lingers even when he steps out to the camp ground. It triggers a potent flash of life with him.

You’ve spoken about kids and it will happen (or at least you’ll try) in due course, but he’s come home from missions with doubts about bringing children up in this world. What matters to both of you is having each other, and you know he’d be enough good and love for your lifetime. Even though you can always revisit the issue, that deep flutter ravages your gut while you watch him cook breakfast.

With another hunger pang, you remember how your stomach voicing her opinion is one of the reasons you’re together. One, solitary growl started the first real night of hanging out with Steve. Without it, he wouldn’t have shared a leftover meal (and cake—hint, hint, buddy), he wouldn’t have let you in his apartment, he wouldn’t have driven you and your car home the next morning, and he wouldn’t have given you some of his own clothes to wear.

You pull the sleeves of his sweater over your chilling hands and bury your nose in the fabric, inhaling deeply.

You wonder which one of those incidental, accidental moments was the tipping point, whether removing just one experience of you would have stopped Steve from seeing you, stopped him from loving you.

After a while, you pick up the polaroid. You can see his ease through the lens. Steve is in his element, chatting away while preparing a meal, planning what you two can do together next, complimenting how you look in his sweatpants and meaning it so profusely that his eyes light up whenever he looks your way.

You thought you caught it on camera, all of him, all of his happiness, but the shot isn’t close enough to do it justice. Your heart will just have to remember.

Yes, Steve Rogers on his own is more than enough. He is the gift. He’s your treasure.

You can’t decide what you want to do next, but a strong shiver running through you gives a hint: get warm.

Eggs are a good start.

When the food is done, Steve refills your tea and makes his own.

You snuggle up into the covers of the bed again, leaning your head into the dip of Steve’s sternum, using your furnace husband to full effect. The birds aren’t so annoying now. The air is so crisp and refreshing, laced with the smell of Steve’s skin. The rise and fall of his chest is so soothing as you sip and ponder the future.

Steve fiddles with the dials on the vintage camera above you. That’s the last thing you remember before waking up again, this time wrapped in his warm, toasty arms.

For once, he hasn’t woken up yet. He’s stretched, out-cold and perfectly content, unmoving as you wiggle out of the covers.

He never rests in the middle of the day, so you have to capture his sleepy form, eyes still tucked beneath the comforter, keeping the light out for just a little longer. He’s so beautiful.

Your husband is so beautiful.

Steve desperately wants to take the wedding presents for a spin out in the woods, so the afternoon is entirely consumed by a hike.

The Polaroid makes too much noise for wildlife and can’t focus on the tinier details among the branches and leaves, so you settle for jotting down some fanciful descriptions that come to mind and watch him sneak closer to birds, bugs, and color-changing foliage.

He gets so distracted with excitement that you two walk much farther than intended. Steve insists on carrying you the last few miles of your return, and you spend the entire piggyback ride with your chin tucked over his shoulder, your cheek against his neck, quietly discussing what you’d like to change in your lives now that you’re officially married.

Nothing. The answer is nothing.

Nothing needs to change because you two are the exact same people as forty-eight hours ago. Perhaps the rings on your fingers mean more for your life, but they just transmuted the love already in existence to matter.

Steve’s bright blue eyes go dreamy with philosophizing.

Your husband is beautiful, smelling of fresh air and optimism.

Steve refuses to miss another sunset, so you two lay in the hammock before lighting your evening fire.

You snuggle and chat, teasing each other, telling stories. You watch the Milky Way bloom to life above you.

Something Steve never figured out was how the Team knew about his plan to propose. He’s been going over it and over it, but he can’t see where he gave himself away. Steve says, when he asked Bucky yesterday in the men’s ready room, Bucky smirked.

Apparently, Steve, only once while you two dated, told his friend “there’s an order to these things,” and that was enough. Buck knew Steve’s intentions immediately, watching for the signs, the clues. Everyone understands that for a long time now Steve has resented his birthday is a holiday—not in a disrespectful way, but it annoys him that the day is already a big, loud affair,—and the whole group guessed (correctly) Steve would rather replace the symbolism with his own meaning.

“And hey,” Steve rumbles, faking Tony’s nonchalance as he quotes the billionaire playboy, “if you chickened out, fireworks are fireworks.”

His added shrug for effect shifts you and rocks the dangling net.

“Almost did, didn’t you?” you chuckle. “Chicken out?”

Your husband’s whole body tweaks harshly.

“You know I was scared shitless, Keeps! Almost fainted.”

“Or at least fell off your one knee…”

His hands fly up to scrub at his stubbled face, pinning you. “Oh! It was so bad,” he groans.

You sit up carefully in the wobbly fabric of the hammock, barely suppressing more laughter, and pound a flat palm at his chest. “It’s ok, soldier. You got the job done. We got there in the end.”

Steve’s hand covers yours, his peaceful smile glowing in the soft starlight.

He reaches to cradle your cheek, sweeping a delicately callused thumb over your skin.

“I almost can’t believe it,” Steve says quietly.

“Believe what?”

He could mean the beauty of the sky, or that Tony knocked it out of the park with your escape of a honeymoon, or that he didn’t croak instead of getting through all those mental and physical hurtles to be with you. You’re just not sure. Personally, you’ve ‘almost not believed it’ since the Captain America started talking to you, so it’s hard to judge.

Steve doesn’t answer right away. His voice grows even softer. “Happy. That’s all.”

Your heart breaks and mends in an instant.

“You can’t believe you’re happy?”

He goes shy, ducking then raising his gaze even higher towards the treetops. He clears his throat before admitting, “I lead…an unusual life. Not many would want this.”

“I dunno. Seems pretty nice to me,” you giggle.

“Yes, but—“ he pulls you into his chest and squeezes “—I get no guarantees. Not like others. We couldn’t even set a date. We could have been waiting years to get married.”

It’s your turn to shrug.

“You got something else to do?”

“No,” he sighs, “just more of this.” He nudges your body closer and closer to his, until all your arms and legs are tangled together. “As much as possible. I only meant…I love you.

“I love you, and I don’t think I had any faith left that I would find you.”

You. Not someone like you. Not someone for him.

You.

Even without a fire, even without sunlight, even without shelter surrounding you, Steve provides everything you could ever need: heat, comfort, safety. He provides, and it’s only right that he should have the favor returned.

Happiness. That’s what this is. Happiness that wasn’t guaranteed. Happiness that wasn’t expected. Happiness that was hard-earned.

Your muscles shiver and your skin tingles, all with need of him. “Sweetheart,” you whisper, clawing at his sweater.

He knows. He sees. He feels it, too.

When Steve lunges to kiss you though, the hammock swings with your combined weight and tries to topple you.

You giggle and squeal, flipping out and onto the ground with zero grace, and he follows.

Steve crawls over you, starlight and the glow from the tent painting his face in primary colors.

“Here, Mrs. Rogers?” He fakes shock. “In the dirt?”

“You fucked me on that picnic table just last night,” you joke, a dark, taunting edge to your voice which he matches.

Steve leans in again. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t.”

He holds your gaze, his focus flickering to your lips while the crickets’ song roars around you.

It sounds silly after all you’ve done to get Steve out of his shell, but what you crave most in this moment is the familiar, traditional love-making that he offers best. His tenderness leads you on a merry dance not unlike long wilderness walks. He’s consumed by discovery and attention to how you feel in that very second. To him, you change as frequently as the landscape. He yearns to explore what’s the same, what’s new.

Steve never phones-in sex. He never just goes through the motions. Somehow, he makes an art of reevaluating your body, your pleasure, each and every time. He’s the proof vanilla is an infinite flavor.

But…

That doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the chase.

Steve is leaning in to kiss you when your knee raises to his chest, halting his progress. You bite your lip and scramble to the ‘door’ of the tent. Obviously, he lets you win because he could easily have snatched you into his grasp.

Steve’s laugh stays close, but he follows all the way to the bed.

There’s something to be said about a good ol’ fashioned undressing, garment by garment, that dance of who leads and how much they touch the other as each piece of clothing falls away. Steve’s become a very good dancer.

Nothing is rushed. Nothing is missed.

He doesn’t combine the acts of maneuvering you and dragging open mouth kisses along your skin. He moves you, and then he lingers.

Time spent mapping you is time well spent to Steve Rogers.

You’re drunk on him. High on him. It’s an out-of-body experience that has you watching his broad back curve sharply while he thrusts and traces your collarbone with his tongue, noticing your toes seize up from force of your first orgasm, and admiring how fine his ringed finger looks laced in with yours and pinned over your head.

No one leaves the tent. The evening fire never gets started.

After a long and sweaty fuck in the bed, you’re filthy, gathering food for Steve who’s hungry, following you around with wipes. It’s comical how thoroughly you try to take care of each other.

No. Sit still. No. Let me just grab this. No. Fine. Together?

You two finish the top tier of cake after cleaning off…because Steve Rogers is the most stubborn, beautiful, and optimistic husband.

[Next Part]

[Main Masterlist; Fools Rush In Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

wifies

[angelwowings]

Magma doodle of me and @rpggoro ^.^♡

[neonovember]

Loved loved loved the steve headcanon. If you’re in the mood, I would an expansion on the “steve is the type of man to never let you go to bed angry, even if you’ve both had a fight and he end up on the coach” because I absolutely agreed and I especially enjoyed reading that! Thank you for sharing this husband!Steve HC.

oh yes most definitely! His mind wouldn't rest until he knows you're at peace. Ask and you shall receive (i must say I did get quite carried away). I wrote this at 1 am so be aware of spelling :)

The Steve headcanon

My soul cannot sleep without you

The rumble of the car engine comes to a stop as Steve pulls into the garage of your shared home, the living room light is still on and if you weren't already irritated, you'd mentally smack yourself for being so forgetful. Bills weren't cheap, even on an avenger's salary. 

Collecting the ends of your dress you shoulder your way through the car door, slamming it with an oomf for good measure. Steve, of course, shuts his door gently, and it leaves you even more annoyed with him. 

Why is he not angry? 

You don't dare look behind you as Steve begins to jog towards you, you fear the confusion that has been plastered on his face for the last 20 minutes would make you explode. 

You're about to open the door until you remember, he has the keys, Steve is already one step ahead of you, fingers brushing past your elbow as he twists the golden metal into the door nob. You can feel his stare burning into the side of your face but you will yourself not to look his way, to see that look on his face that would have you conceding.

The smell of peppercorn and maple engulfs your senses as you enter your hallway, the soft air of familiarity fails to calm your tense shoulders however, as you pass the framed pictures of you and Steve over the years without so much as a glance.

Reaching your kitchen you notice the bouquet of orchids Steve had bought you earlier today left on the counter, in the rush to get to the compound's charity ball on time you had forgotten to find them a vase.

What flowers would she like?

You search through the kitchen cabinets before you grasp the clear glass, shufflingly through appliances and setting it on the granite counter. You unwrap the orchids, cutting the stems down to fit into the glass vase and filling them generously with water. Steve looks at you incredulously, arms folded as his eyes follow your movements.

"Are you going to say something?" Steve says, his melodic voice travelling through the house, bouncing off the glass vase yet failing to penetrate you.

You begin to clean the stems and spilt water from the counter, ignoring Steve’s attempt at conversation. Did he seriously not realise the brunette practically hanging onto his every word?

Steves's hand grasp your own, stopping you from wiping down the rest of the kitchen, he lifts your chin but your eyes remain downcast, fiddling with the string of the washcloth.

"Can you at least look at me?" Steve says, scanning your face that remained emotionless. His fingers glide across your arms to rest on your cheeks, and the feeling of his hands on you, after she'd touched them has you ripping them off of you. Scoffing, you throw the washcloth into the sink, before turning towards Steve.

"I don't understand, why are you upset? Did I do something?" Steve furrows his brows, his hands gripping his pants as if he's stopping himself from reaching for you.

You scoff at that, "You can't be serious Steve, you are one of the smartest people I know and you can't notice something happening right in front of you?"

He shakes his head, eyes squeezing as he opens them, you notice him scanning over the events prior, but it comes up empty and it has Steve looking more confused than before.

“What's her name, huh Steve? At least tell me her name” You whisper, arms folded as the shimmers of the dress begin to irritate you.

“What? Who?” Steve replies, stepping closer to you

“Who? The brunette who was hanging off of you the entire night Steven” You groan, you hated facing your insecurities, much less voicing them.

There is a momentary pause in Steve as his mind backtracks to the evening, sifting through the hundreds of faces he’d seen tonight, he finally realises who you're talking about.

Tony’s accountant

“Marianna?” Steve scoffs

“Yes, Marianna” You spit her name like poison, but you can’t seem to get her face out of your mind, she’s taken homage next to the laundry you hadn't gotten the time to do. The way her pantsuit fitted her elegantly, sophisticated and modern, she was the woman of the future. And you were just, well, you.

She could pull off a red lip, something that never quite looked good on you, and the very way she spoke told you she said very few words that didn't ilicitate constant adoration. She didn't need to fill the space with empty jargon, every word had meaning.

The constant comparison had followed you the entire evening, and the past insecurities that you had thought you'd overcome seemed to weigh you down like an anchor, pulling you into the deprecation you knew all too well.

It was fine, you’d get over it until she began to talk to Steve, your husband. you didn't miss the look on her face as they conversed, utter, pure amazement. You knew it because you wore it every day, Steve had a way with people, it's what attracted you to him in the first place.

You felt out of place as they spoke about diplomacy and business, and at that moment you had wished you actually listened when Tony pulled you into one of the many long rants you'd gotten used to. 

She wasn't even mean to you as if the playground tactics were beneath her, but it didn't take her calling you a bitch to know the animosity that radiated from her every time Steve had tried to pull you into their conversation. You knew where you weren't wanted and you weren't about to make a fool of yourself. So you left them to it as you sat next to Natasha, who offered you a much-needed drink.

She had noticed your annoyance at Marianna the second she came over, as she always did, and for a second, you wish Steve would too. He was too pure too good, to take notice of the way Marianna got closer and closer to him or the way she bit her lip and laughed a little too hard at one of his lame jokes. The poor man thought she was being friendly, he was oblivious to her true motives.

Natasha held her grin behind an empty champagne glass, snickering when Marianna threw her head back for good measure. You had vented to her there, and she reminded you of the man Steve was. How he was absolutely enamoured by you and you only, how you had him wrapped around your finger so tight he wouldn't even think about looking at another woman that way. It was all things you knew deep down, but that didn't stop your brain from imagining the worst, that he was deep in an affair with his co-worker, and you were the dumb clueless wife who waited for him at home.

You wouldn't let that happen again, not after all those years of betrayal from an ex, you wouldn't let yourself be made a fool. Pride had a way of getting in between reality, and you let it stew you in anger until you were mad at Steve instead of her.

Steve shakes his head, moving closer to you,

“She's just Tony’s accountant, we chatted for a few, that's all doll” Steve replied, carding a hand through his blonde locks. Reasoning, however, doesn't seem to be on your mind tonight as you remember all the lies you've been told starting with she.

She’s just a friend, she’s just an assistant, she’s just...

“Well, she seemed to have taken your attention for the whole night, while I was left drinking champagne of all fucking things with Natasha. She was meant to go find her date for that night, but instead, she was with me” You replied looking towards him in anger.

“Well, I tried to include you in the conversation, but every time I asked for your opinion your mind seemed as if it was a thousand miles away!” Steve replied swiftly hands gesturing around.

“Yeah, because she was laughing every single goddamn time I opened my mouth, god Steve, can't you see what she’s doing?” You replied even faster, swallowing down the brick that began to form in your throat.

“What, what is she doing, I thought I was having a conversation with a colleague, but you seem to know better” Steve quipped, his jaw tensing and his shoulders seized.

“She wants you, and you’re either too blind to see it or already fucking know it” You replied, muttering under your breath.

Steve scoffs, shaking his head, eyes scanning your face as he remains silent.

“Is your silence meant to mean I was right?” You yell, tears beginning to gather on your waterline and you have to pinch yourself to get force them to remain there.

Steve’s eyes never leave your face, the cerulean orbs darting left and right, and up and down as if trying to understand your benevolence. His arm twitches as if he wants to gather you into his embrace and forget this entire evening.

“How can you say that” Steve replies, after a short while, “I was courteous, polite for god's sake, you know I would never do that to you” Steve moves until his hands grasp your own. They’re warm to the touch like he always is, and they begin to soothe the coldness that has begun to take over your body.

It doesn't help though, instead, it reminds you of the times you've been told that your insecurities were imaginary, that the unfaithfulness in your relationship wasn't real. That you, instead were harbouring a secret, the anger you felt then turned to guilt at your own self for even accusing him of cheating. If you were told enough times that your reality wasn't yours, you’d start to believe it.

“Yeah well, the only person I can ever trust is myself” You whisper, spitting the words out and unlatching yourself from Steve's grasp. Steve looks down at you in shock, betrayal and hurt falling over his features, whilst yours turn to stone.

He closes his eyes before opening them again, nodding as if he accepted your anger.

“Fine, I’m taking the couch,” Steve scoffs, ripping off his tie and placing it on the counter, before walking into the living room the loud stomp of his shoes vibrating through the quiet house.

You turn to the discarded tie, grasping it into your palm, the texture of the material felt velvet against your fingers. It was a plain tie, one you'd find anywhere, but it was the first tie you'd ever gotten him. You'd gifted him many over the years, all of them more expensive and chic than this one but he'd told you you'd have to pry it out of his cold dead hands before he would give it up. 

It was his lucky tie because you were his lucky girl.

Where you still now?

The satin pillow dampened with your tears, you hadn't waited to even close the door before you were muffling a sob that broke out of your throat. Since then, the tears never ceased, you had to shove your face into the covers to make sure Steve wouldn't hear you.

Sleep was fruitless, you had tried everything, but you lay there, like clothes on a washing line, wrung out and left to dry. Your mind wouldn't let the image leave, her fingers grabbing his bicep as she laughed, the way he grinned as his humour got praised.

Was that it, had she given him more attention? More than you?

A billion reasons clamoured your mind as you pushed your fingertips to your eyelids, wishing that you hadn't even gone to the charity ball at all, save the humiliation just for your mind only.

Deep down you knew, you knew that this was all the insecurities of your past coming forth from their hiding places. Steve was the best person in your entire life, he would never, his stupidly good heart wouldn't allow it. But that was just it, he was too kind and nice and good that people like Marianna were able to sink their claws and have their way with him however they wanted.

He thought they were being friendly, but they knew they weren't.

Hours seem to pass before you find the room illuminated with the light of your phone in your palm, your chest feels tight and uncomfortable and you don't know how much more of this you could take.

Tapping onto the folder named “him”, you are met with hundreds of photos of you and Steve throughout the years, starting from the very few dates you had before he claimed you as his, till the wedding night when you both had stayed up to take out the millions of pins in your intricate hair.

In all of them, every single one, Steve displays the same adored, content look of utter satisfaction and love, his eyes sparkled with it, like the sun glittering against the gentle waves and folds of the sea. An endless pool of longing that seemed to have depth only for you, to crash and fight and turn inside and out for you.

Your relationship was never easy, but Steve has always, always been the anchor that brought you back, he never gave up, even when you pushed him away and left him in the dark. Even when the fear of loss and hurt caused you to scream things you didn't mean and do things you shouldn’t have.

You flick across to a photo of Steve looking towards you, a soft grin lighting up his face as you held Clint’s newborn, you were cuddled up on a seat, your knees tucked into you as you were sucked into the guilty pleasure of red fat cheeks and baby fever.

Sam had captured it without Steve looking, sending it to you a couple of days ago with the words ‘Someone wants to be a daddy’. You’d laughed it off but each day you'd come back to that picture. Back to the moment when Steve looked like he had never loved something harder than you, as if it was his first time ever really feeling it.

He loves you, you know? I knew it the day he met you, he has this look on his face, where his eyes get all glazed over and his fingers are reaching for you. It’s like he can’t breathe until he can hold you, like his body will break in two and his heart will stop.

Natasha had told you that one night on the terrace unprovoked, with a beer in her hand and the moonlight falling over the both of you. She had been there from the start, had found you when you were still a shell of a person, back then you didn't even know what love was. You fear if it wasn't for her you and Steve wouldn't have ever met.

“Steve would never do that” 

The sounds of her voice those hours ago ring in your head. It was true, your entire time with Steve told you but what thing, he was not your ex. He was kind, and soft and held you like you were glass and he'd crush you. And then suddenly, as if a switch had been turned in your mind, the light of a dark place turning on you realise how utter fucking foolish you had been.

Steve’s faith in you never faltered, even when it should have he never felt a reason to distrust you, it was foreign, it felt strange to have someone utterly and fully hand their trust and soul to you. And what had you given him in return? Accusations and anger. 

Did he think now, that you did not trust him? That he had failed to show you how you should be loved? How he would never hurt you?

Those men from your past would never amount to Steve, and suddenly you felt you would die right in this room if you didn’t move. If you tell Steve he was enough and that you believed him and that the vows he uttered held true. Every hair on your body itched with this need until the covers were thrown across from your body and your phone was discarded on the bed.

You swung open the door, the cold hair hitting your face and you stumbled through the dark, you run down the hardwood stairs, the haunting reality of your actions following you, you had been so so foolish.

Steve is there, his frantic motions walking towards the bedroom freeze as he notices you. His shirt is crumpled and unbuttoned, and his golden hair is ruffled, the strands falling over his face as if he's run his fingers through it too many times. 

A look of desperation and longing paint his features as he watched you, hands shaking at his sides as he sinks his canines into his reddend lip. You wanted nothing but to hold him now, and the thought bring you to tears, blurring your vision until you miss a step, your heart dropping into your stomach as you brace yourself, waiting to meet the cold hard ground of the kitchen floor.

It never comes, instead, heated, carded muscle wraps around you, and you the smell of Steve, of earth and pine cones has you crying into his shoulder.

He came to you, even when you had screamed at him to leave,

He came to you.

Fresh tears slide down your cheek and you grip Steve, whose fingers softly rub your back, hands tightening around your waist.

“M’ sorry, so sorry Steve, please” You hiccup, covering your face into his shoulder.

“Ssh, my sweet girl, I know” Steve whispers, never seizing his gentle caress. His hands lift your face from his neck, thumb gathering the tears at your waterline. “I know, it’s okay, it’s okay, just breathe for me, hm? 

“In and out, can you do that for me?” Steve breathes out, eyes straining as he watches your shallow breaths ease into semi-normal respiration.

Without a word, Steve collects you in his arms and walks through the house until he enters the bedroom, shutting the door with his foot, eyes never leaving your face as he gently places you onto the now cold bedsheets.

You shudder, reaching for him as he slides in, arms wrap around your sides as he continues his light motions on your back, his fingers come to move your hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your neck.

You turn around swiftly, hands reaching to cup his face before you’re met with his reddened eyes, it's your turn now to brush away the tears before pressing your lips to his,

‘I should never have, Stevie, you, I-, you would never” You whisper against him his chest, the soft rise and fall lulling you into a state of haze and exhaustion. He presses his forehead to yours

“I just want to hold you now, god, I don't know what I will do if I don’t hold you” Steve replies muttering the words painfully. You wrap your arms around him, pressing yourself into his stomach as his biceps surround you. The sound of Steve's heartbeat, the rhythmic badum badum badum, engulfs you with a sense of tranquillity you hadn’t realised you couldn’t live without.

Steve, your sweet boy, was the one thing you couldn’t live without, without Steve, next to you, holding you between his arms, you don't think you would ever quite find sleep. Not anymore, not after him.

[imyourbratzdoll]

𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔

part 6 of 🌧️welcome to hell🌧️

summary - demons lingered in the back of your mind, causing you to think you aren't good enough and it doesn't help that steve is ignoring you.

warning - bad thoughts, self-hate, mentions of cheating, angst, barely eating, emotionally drained, feeling like you aren't good enough.

the gif I use isn't mine, headers by me.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4 - part 5 - part 7

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

What if you and Steve were meant to part ways, only so that you could find each other again. What if you were destined for each other? But instead of being together now, you both needed to grow separately, and soon the two of you would meet again in the coming years when you were both ready.

You didn’t know who you were anymore. You were no longer the person you were before you met Johnny, and you weren’t exactly who you were when you were with him. You felt stuck and horrible. You hadn’t gotten better after the divorce, not even when Steve entered your life. 

Somehow, you lit up his darkness and he silenced your mind. Around him, you felt as though you could finally breathe. But why couldn’t you relax?

Your eyes fluttered open as you woke from your slumber and you just laid there, staring up at the ceiling. It had been a few weeks since you bumped into Steve and you wondered if you had done something wrong.

Steve helped you with your bags, placing them on your kitchen counter before he turned and looked around your place with a smile, his hands stuffed in his jean pockets. “You have a nice place, it suits you.” God, why could you two stare at each other and feel so connected, but then so awkward when trying to find something to talk about. 

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to help me.” You gesture towards the bags before you begin to unpack them, hoping that the cold products haven't warmed too much. 

Steve waves you off. “I didn’t mind. Like I said, I wanted to help.” It felt so natural as he began to unpack the other bag, like this was your routine. The two of you moved so gracefully, like a puzzle piece fitting perfectly into its spot as you moved around the kitchen, putting things away.

Once you finished, your eyes locked onto Steve’s as he leant against the counter. “W–Would you like something to drink? Or eat?” You watched his eyes flicker down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. 

“Water, please.” Did his voice get deeper? You felt like you could drop at any second with how he looked at you. You moved quickly, hands shaking slightly as you filled up a glass before handing it over to him. Steve grabs it gently from you, his fingers brushing against yours and sparks erupt at the touch, causing a soft gasp to escape you. “Thank you.” 

You watched him drink, how could such a normal thing look so hot and sinful when he did it? His eyes never left yours, but yours left his when he moved the glass away from his mouth. You watched his tongue flick out as he collected the water that glistened against his lips. This felt so wrong, but so right at the same time. 

You blink and clear your throat, quickly moving away from him before you do something you may regret. Steve moves over to the sink, washing the glass for you before putting it away. Your mouth hangs open slightly, not even Johnny did that. You would always have to clean up after him. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Stop comparing the two! 

But they look so alike… You can’t help but think. It was strange.

You shake your head from your thoughts as Steve touches your shoulder gently. “Are you okay?” 

You hum. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.” You felt like you were suffocating, like this was all a dream. If this was a dream, you didn’t want to wake from it. You let out a shuddering breath as you stare into Steve’s eyes, you could see concern swirling around. “I’m okay. I just got lost in my thoughts.”

Steve nods as if he understands, and the weirdest thing was that every thought seemed to disappear as his hand brushed against your hip. Neither of you could deny the pull, and it scared the hell out of you.

You barely knew Steve, and yet you felt so safe with him. You nearly cried as he pulled away, stepping back, his hand now falling to his side. His phone didn’t go off, but he pulled it out. “I have to go, my friend messaged me.” He gestured to his phone, and you felt your heart sink. Maybe it was inevitable, maybe deep down all men really were the same. Be it in friend, brother, father, or lover form. It was a curse that no woman could seem to break. “It was lovely to see you again, and if you ever need me. I’m right across from you.” He gave a smile so fake that you wanted to believe it to be real. And then he left, leaving you to stand there as your thoughts crashed into you. 

You blink tiredly from the memory. 

Maybe he got scared as well. Maybe he had his own demons, one in the form of an ex. Your chest tightened at the thought of him with someone else, and then you sighed.

He’s not yours, idiot. He never will be, so stop being so pathetic. 

You groan, your thoughts have become meaner lately. You slide out of bed and head over to your closet, scratching your head as you stare at your clothes. Your lip turns as you don’t like anything you see, maybe this would be a good time to have a day to yourself. Well, technically everyday now is to yourself because you left your husband after catching him fucking your best friend.

Your nose scrunches as the image of them fucking pops up into your head. They were your own demons that would possibly forever haunt you. 

You grab some jeans, a plain black shirt and underwear before heading into your bathroom. As you place your things down onto the bathroom counter, your eyes catch your reflection, and it was like death was staring back at you. It seemed the physical toll had slipped from your attention, you had thought you were doing okay aside from the nasty thoughts. Sure, you didn’t eat as often, but it wasn’t because you were starving yourself. You just hadn’t been as hungry, anytime you would go to eat, those two would pop up into your head and your appetite would disappear.

You stripped before slipping under the water. Now you understood why Steve would avoid you like the plague whenever you bumped into him in the hallway. 

You hated this stupid pull that you kept feeling, it was like a constant tugging. It kept trying to pull you in the direction of Steve, like somehow it knew he was close and craved him to be near you. You wished you could grab some scissors and cut the cord that was attaching you to him. Maybe then he could be free of you, free of the burden you seemed to carry. 

You shoved your head underwater, wanting these thoughts to disappear. Maybe taking you along with them. You stand under the shower for a bit longer before slowly getting out and drying yourself off. You don’t dare look in the mirror in fear of what you would see. You hurriedly dress yourself and walk out of the room, grabbing your shoes and bag.

As you exit your apartment, you are met with Steve leaving his. Your eyes widen for a split second before you quickly look down and walk away, not caring that you didn’t lock your door. You didn’t want to burden him with your presence. When you’ve made quite a distance between the two of you, you let out a deep sigh. 

Was this how it was going to be for you? Forever cursed from love and happiness?

You were going to be okay. You had to be.

Steve watched with a saddened look as you walked away. He knew he was being an arse, he didn’t mean to, really. It was just that anytime he was around you, or thinking about you, he would feel this intense feeling wash over him. Steve had felt those feelings the first time he bumped into you and then the second two years later. He was scared, scared that he may end up hurting you. Of course, he didn’t know he was already doing that. 

You walked through the doors of a local second-hand shop, a place you generally enjoyed shopping at. You head straight towards the clothing section, beginning to flick through. 

“Wanda! Did I tell you the news about Steve?” Without meaning to, your ears perk up at the name. You knew it could be a possibility that it was another Steve, but subconsciously you listened in. 

You had heard that voice before, though. You just didn’t know where from…

“No, what about him?” You pick out a few pieces of clothing as you listen in. 

“He finally found someone! He met her once before, but they ran into each other again!” A tug at your heart, even though the person might not be your Steve. “He constantly spoke about her even when he didn’t even know her, now that has doubled. You remember right?” 

The other woman hums. “Oh yeah, isn’t that why everyone teases him?” 

You round the corner, eyes widening a bit when you spot the woman talking. She was the same one from when you had bumped into Steve the first time. Your heart tugs like crazy because you knew this couldn’t be you, they were talking about. Steve had been ignoring you, so why would he talk about you to his friends? 

Natasha looks up as she’s about to reply and you immediately look down, pretending you are looking through the clothes in your arms. You don’t see her nudge the woman next to her, gesturing to you or the fact that they are now approaching until it’s too late.

“Hi. I know you.” You look up surprised. Natasha smiles teasingly. “You’re Steve’s girl!” 

You shake your head, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Uh no… I’m not his girl…” You stumble slightly. “I—I know him! But uh, we aren’t…” You gulp, this was painful.

The women smile. “Okay, you aren’t his girl now. But you will be!” Wanda replied, a giant grin on her face. “Oh, sorry! Hi, I’m Wanda!” 

“Y/n, and I don’t think so. Steve and I aren’t even friends.” You begin to chew on your bottom lip, needing someone to talk to about this, but you didn’t have any friends… You also didn’t know if you could trust having a friend again. You swallow, your throat suddenly feeling dry. 

Natasha’s brows furrow, “Wait, don’t you guys live across from each other?” You nod, “And you don’t talk?” You shake your head.

“Dumbarse” She mutters under her breath, shaking her head. “I’m sorry about Steve. He’s made it sound like you guys were close.” Natasha facepalms. “I am so going to kick his arse when I see him.” 

“You don’t have to, it’s okay.” You try to fake a smile, but it feels like they can see through it. 

Wanda grins. “Why don’t you join us? We can forget about men and just shop!” 

You made it back to your apartment after spending the day with Wanda and Natasha, you hadn’t felt this happy in a while. As you hit the last step, your head lifts and your eyes connect with those beautiful blue ones. You feel your throat dry and your stomach twist. 

“Y/n…” You slowly move forward, berating yourself for allowing your heart to feel something for him. You were already so broken, why did you think anyone could love you. Your gaze flickers to the bouquet of flowers in his hands, noticing how they shake slightly. Maybe he had a date and wasn’t expecting you to show as he was leaving. 

You continue to walk, hoping to slide past him and into the safety of your home. Even though it felt so lonely inside. Steve reaches out, grasping your arm gently, causing you to stop and look at him. Neither of you can ignore the spark that lights from your touch. Unable to ignore the pull anymore, it felt as though time had stilled as you once again locked eyes. 

“I’m sorry… I’ve been an arse.” Steve frowns, all of the negative feelings he’s been feeling have finally come crashing down on him. 

You shake your head, giving another one of your fake smiles. “You don’t have to apologise, Steve. It’s not like we were friends or anything, you don’t need to be nice to me.”

His hold on you tightens slightly, Steve wonders who the hell hurt you to make you think that. He stares deeply into your eyes, hoping that you can see he’s telling the truth. “I do. Because I am sorry. You didn’t deserve me ignoring you, especially if you think it has anything to do with you. I was in the wrong, and I’d like to make it up to you if you allow me.”

Another choice for you to make. One where it could go incredibly well or one you would regret forever. 

You stare at him for a few seconds, trying to find a sliver of a lie. Your gaze moves down, and you look at the flowers. “I got these for you… I didn’t want to apologise empty–handed.” 

And like that, your demons quietened. “I’ve never received flowers before…” His love roared louder than your demons, silencing them. 

You looked back up at him and made your choice. 

The gravitational pull between you had become stronger, finally feeling like it was ready. It seemed the universe and all the galaxies had a talk and said,

“Yeah, It’s time.” 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[verxn]

Dating Tony stark would include

Him spoiling you

“Damn I don’t know what dress to pick they’re all so pretty”

“Alright you heard her ring them all up”

You don’t like when he spends his money on you

“You should really stop with the pointless purchases..”

*him around the pool with a whole bunch of pool accessories you called cute*

“It’s my money I can spend it on whatever”

you having to drag him out of the office

“I just get so sick and tired of you not eating the food I slave over the stove to cook”

he eats the food just only when it gets really late

Listening to your talk about how annoying the people in the office can get

“Candice decided it would be great to take my damn idea for herself, but she was moving too fast she didn’t even hear what we were doing next” you laugh

Peter being you guys adopted son

“Peter!!! hi sweetie”

“hello Mrs. Stark!!!”

Him getting jealous that you’re showing more love to peter and not him

“Peter don’t you have a home to go back to?”

“Tony that isn’t nice”

You having to put him in check for his attitude

“What you got your period or something you more moody than me”

Him building you a suit

“I’m not wearing that..”

You wore the suit

He was so happy

Felt like a mom sending her daughter off to prom

“Alright turn around for me again I need to send this in the avengers group chat to show them my wife is better than theirs”

Him constantly bragging about you to Steve

“Yeah y/n is so wonderful I’m so glad I can wake up next to her every morning”

“You know she got a promotion the other day I’m so proud of her”

“Tony I really don’t think that’s necessary to the meet-“

“But yeah she’s the light of my life honestly”

You meeting the avengers for the first time

“Guys this is my wife y/n”

“Hello I made cookies!”

Them telling on Tony about how he won’t shut up about you

“Really…”

“What I was just saying the truth”

Him looking at you suffer doing or taking out your hair

You get to the last few braids

“You need help?”

“Tony what help can you give me there’s only 2 braids left”

“Yeesh my bad just trying to help”

[bigger-picture-darwinism]

i was telling my mom about the movie i watched last night (animal room 1995) and she went "i love how you're so into matthew lillard" like yeah,, look at him

why wouldn't i be in love w him??