Warning: Dubious Consent, Breeding MATURE AUDIENCES ONLY. MINORS DNI
Summary: You find yourself in the bed of Steve Rogers bed.
Everything felt so…fluffy.
Soft, warm, and cozy, yet naked.
You lay on your front, head resting on your arms, as you felt the sun's warmth blanket your body.
You didn’t want to get up yet, you were too comfortable. Besides, your alarm had yet to go off, and you weren’t ready to face the day.
You stayed in bed a bit longer, letting your body’s internal clock awaken you naturally, or at least that was the plan.
Until you felt thick but light fingers creep up the base of your naked spine. You don’t question or even register the feeling until you hear it paired with a husky, deep voice.
“I really tired you out, didn’t I?”
You quickly sit up to find Steve Rogers staring up at you, and in that moment, the silk sheets that allowed you your modesty fell to your lap.
You looked down when you felt a nip of cold air only to find yourself bare-skinned and exposed, you quickly lifted the sheets to conserve what little dignity you had left. Backing away before dropping off the edge, but before you can hit the ground, an arm grabs you and pulls you back into the bed, on top of Steve.
“Wait,” you squeaked, pushing against his chest. “W-WAIT,”
Steve kisses you against your neck, grabbing onto your ass, taking a deep squeeze, and pulling your body close to his own.
“St-Steve, I- please.” you stutter.
“Less talking, more fucking,” he growls, stealing your lips with his own.
Memories of last night began flooding your mind. The ball, the food, the drinking, the flirting, the kissing.
Before you could think of the rest of the night, Steve laid you on your back and placed his body between your legs before pushing his manhood into your vessel, leaving you gasping for air.
He stretched you so heavenly, leaving you breathless and wanting, pulling on your thigh to settle himself deeper into your most intimate space.
He takes a deep breath before looking down at you, giving you his attention.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he pushes his lips against yours.
Moving his hips at an agonizing pace, each thrust feeling deeper than the last. Each stroke rubs his pelvis against your special button.
His rocking intensifies, and you suddenly can no longer control the noises escaping your body. He pushes deeper, harder, and faster, leaving you no room to immerse yourself in the feeling of Euphoria.
Pushing you over the edge, your body shakes intensely as a climax engulfs you.
“Steve, please.” your body continued to buzz, yet Steve remained relentless as his hips slapped against your own. Continuing his plunges as you are forced to reach yet another pinnacle. His movements stagger, and you are hyperaware of your risky situation.
“Steve!” you whisper, hoarse and tired “ I can’t, I’m no-please, not insi-”
“I came inside you several times last night,” he smirks as if proud of himself in the admission, as he continues to drive into you, a particular thrust forcing a squeak from your throat “A few more times should mean nothing. Right?”
As his movements begin to falter, he pushes himself as deeply as he can, pausing to revel in the feeling of his orgasm, pouring his cream within you.
Another kiss befalls your lips as he pulls you tight against his body.
Pairing - Dark Steve Kemp x Naive/Innocent/Virgin Reader
Summary - You go to your doctor looking for advice, what you get is something else entirely.
Warnings - Extreme Dubcon! Manipulation, coercion, medical manipulation, fingering, dark! 18+ Only! My warnings are not extensive so enter at your own risk!
Word Count - 3k
After a lot of deliberation, you'd decided to brave a trip to the doctor's office, deciding you were ready to take a big step in your personal life.
Doctor Kemp had taken over your local doctors clinic a few years ago and you felt content under his care.
He was always friendly with you, making you feel at ease with your issues and you had confided in him about almost everything. You knew that today's conversation would only be okay because of him, despite how nervous you were.
You entered the clinic with a hammering heart and shaky palms, locating a seat as far away from anyone else as possible, after a quick check in with the receptionist. You were anxious as other patients stepped in and out of the double doors for their own appointments, biting at your nails and leg bouncing as you waited.
When your name was finally called, you scampered through the doors and along the pristine white halls to Doctor Kemp's office, knocking quickly before entering, after hearing the sound of his soft voice calling you inside.
"Good morning." He smiled at you from his seat by his computer, "Take a seat."
You smiled back shyly, flopping down in your seat so quickly that you winced on impact and immediately flushed red in embarassment.
Doctor Kemp looked back at you with a glint of amusement in his eyes, lips turned up into that charming smile you'd come to know all too well.
"Hi Doctor Kemp." You breathed shakily as you tried to compose yourself, "Thank you for seeing me."
You placed your palms in your lap, spine ridged and stiff while Steve relaxed back in his seat.
"What can I do for you today?" He asked, steepling his hands in front of his chest, with his elbows on his knees as he appraised you.
"I uhh...well..." You uttered, scratching nervously at your forehead, "It's kind of embarrassing..."
"It's okay, you know you can tell me." He smiled softly before letting out a light chuckle, "I don't bite."
"Okay well..." You sighed, glancing around the sterile room to avoid making eye contact for too long, "I uhh....I want to get some kind of birth control."
"Oh is that right?" Steve replied with a harsh underbite to his tone.
"Yeah," You continued, oblivious to his change in demeanor, "I just don't know what kind of one to get or whatever, I was wondering if you could help."
"Forgive me sweetie, but last time we spoke you informed me you were still a virgin." He said sternly, "Is that no longer the case?"
"Oh, uhh yeah I am." You said pressing your lips together, "I'm just...preparing I guess....trying to be safe."
"You got yourself a boyfriend now?" He grumbled with a raised brow, flattening his palms on his thighs to stop them clenching into fists.
"No, yeah." You mumbled, "Uhh I dunno. Kind of. It's new."
"And things have been heating up?" Steve pressed, "Has he touched you?"
His fingers twitched against his thigh and his jaw ticked in irritation, as he watched your face blush at the question.
"Nn..no. Not exactly." You mumbled, rubbing your hands together in your lap, "But he uhhh..he asked me to touch him..so I just want to be prepared..."
Steve's shoulders relaxed and you watched as he visibly exhaled before his face softened. He reached across the space, taking your hand in his and gently running his thumb along your knuckles.
Your friends told you their doctors were cold and uncaring, Steve wasn't like that, he was always soft with you and always made sure to touch you in such gentle caring ways, you knew you were safe with him.
"You sure you're ready sweetie?" He asked softly, watching you nibble your lower lip.
"Yeah I think so." You sighed, "I mean I'm 23 now and I've waited a long time."
"I know." He smiled, "You're such a sweet girl, so innocent."
"Yeah well...maybe I'm ready for more ya know?" You replied, unsure whether you were trying to convince Doctor Kemp or yourself, but you were fed up of the things your friends said about you, of missing out on something your friends all talked about like it was a gateway drug.
"Okay well as your doctor I guess I'll have to trust what you're saying for the mental side of being ready," Steve hummed, still holding your palm in his, "But there's still the physical."
"Physical?" You gulped, looking up at Steve's blue eyes with your doe ones, as confusion laced your brow.
"Yeah, your vagina might not be ready." Steve replied.
"Oh." You gasped in shock, "Really? But...I thought...the girls said.."
"You think your friends know more than me? A qualified practitioner?" Steve scoffed, dropping your hand in your lap with irritation and you felt an embarrassed flush creep up your neck.
"No. Of course not. I just..." You mumbled apologetically.
"We'll need to do an examination." He interrupted, "Make sure everything is okay."
"Right..okay...sure...yeah...." You breathed, rubbing your now sweaty palms along your trousers.
"Good girl." Steve smiled, suddenly soft again, "You wanna jump up behind the curtain, take your jeans and panties off and pop the towel over your lap. I'll be there when you're ready."
You swallowed nervously, getting to your feet and moving to the clinical bed while your hands shook at your sides. You knew you shouldn't be nervous, Steve had seen down there before, several times in fact. He made sure you had regular check ups, making sure to take pictures of your pussy to keep on his files in case anything changed, although he'd never touched you, not once, just appraised between your legs with a clinical scrutiny.
You pulled the paper feeling curtain across the space, separating you from Steve's gaze and quickly stripped your lower half, before climbing onto the hard bed and grabbing way too much paper towel to place over your exposed core.
"Ready." You gulped nervously, hands desperately pressing the paper to your body.
"Okay." Steve hummed before pulling the curtain back, making your body flinch at the sudden screeching sound, "Comfy?"
"Mmm it's okay." You breathed with a faux smile, "I'm just nervous."
"Don't be nervous sweetheart." He smiled reassuringly, "Nothing you haven't done before. It'll be just like when you do it yourself."
"What do you mean?" You exhaled shakily as he crossed the room, collecting a pair of blue rubber gloves from a nearby drawer.
"I mean it'll only be like when you touch yourself." He replied, facing the wall with a wide smirk and a twitch in his cock that you didn't see.
"Oh..I..I never..." You mumbled nervously, swallowing harshly with wide eyes when Steve suddenly turned to face you once more.
"You've never touched yourself before?" He asked with a raised brow and a twitch in his upper lip.
"N..no..." You repeated.
"God sweetheart, you're such an angel." He almost groaned, quickly snapping the rubber of the gloves before blowing into the opening, "So sweet."
"Oh, uh thank you Doctor Kemp." You blushed, dipping your head under his gaze.
He smiled back, pulling the latex gloves over his large hands before releasing them to his wrists with a loud slap.
"Okay just relax for me sweetie." He said softly as he positioned himself near your lower half, "Bend your knees. That's it and just let your legs drop open."
You did as he asked, pulling your legs up and planting your feet flat on the bed before dropping your knees to the sides, opening yourself up for him.
"Good girl." He praised, "See. It's okay right?"
"Yeah...okay..." You breathed, feeling more secure knowing you were safe with him as you always were.
"Okay. Let's have a look at you." Steve purred, quickly ripping the toweling away from your core and tossing it haphazardly behind him, tongue darting out to run over his lower lip as he looked at your exposed cunt.
"Mmm. Good." He hummed with a nod as his head tilted to the side.
"Is....is it okay?" You asked nervously, attempting to glance down at your own pussy.
"Very beautiful sweetheart." Steve smirked back at you before slipping his gloved hands onto your thighs gently, "Let's have a little feel, see how she's doing?"
His palms slid along the inside of your thighs until you felt his fingers tickle the outer side of your pussy and you audibly gasped at the feeling, unsure if that was how you were supposed to feel when it was your doctor touching you so innocently.
Suddenly you felt his finger tip gently flick at your untouched nub before gently massaging it and you felt an unusual heat spread across your body.
"That feel okay?" Steve purred, glancing up at your surprised eyes and mouth hanging agape.
"Mmmhmmm." You nodded with a harsh swallow as he continued his soft movements over your clit.
"Words sweetie." Steve coaxed, "Need you to tell me how it feels."
You took a deep breath, letting your head flop back against the bed so you could stare at the ceiling instead of the way Doctor Kemp was staring back at you hungrily.
"It feels g..good." You breathed, "Kinda tingly."
"Yeah?" Steve purred in response, "You're getting nice and wet."
"Is that normal?" You squeaked suddenly, worrying as you regularly felt that flush of wetness pooling down below, often finding patches of dampness in your panties and you worried that it could mean something was wrong.
"Yeah sweetie, perfectly normal." Steve smiled, "It's a good thing."
"Oh..okay...good." You breathed, shoulders relaxing slightly, although still on edge from where he was touching you.
"Now I'm gonna need you to relax sweetheart." Steve ordered softly, "Take a deep breath. Good."
You inhaled deeply and let out a squeak as you felt one of his fingers push inside of your pussy, curling upwards to stroke your inner wall as his thumb took its place on your clit to continue the stimulation there.
Your stomach tightened, more intense heat searing at your skin as sweat began dripping from your brow.
"Oh..." You gasped at the new intrusion.
"Yeah, that okay?" Steve asked and you had to swallow, reminding yourself to use your words when all your body wanted to do was writhe and mewl.
"Mm. Feels. Good." You mumbled, chest heaving up and down.
"Yeah? You got more of those tingles?" He coaxed as he continued pumping his finger inside of you, dragging the tip against your wall and rubbing over your nub in soft circles.
"Yeah and my tummy feels funny." You admitted with a shaky breath as the strange sensations kept building.
"Good, that's what's supposed to happen sweetheart." He hummed in approval, "This is all good so far."
You let out a raspy moan as he continued working your cunt with his finger, feeling yourself becoming wetter and wetter as he continued.
"God. You're so tight." Steve groaned to himself as he stared at his finger disappearing into your virgin pussy over and over, "Dunno if you're gonna be able to take two."
"Huh? Two?" You squeaked, catching the end of his sentence and lifting your head to stare at him with a small amount of fear shooting through you.
"Of my fingers sweetie?" Steve smirked as if it was completely obvious, "Need to get two in to make sure everything is all good inside."
"Oh, okay." You nodded before dropping your head back down. You were being silly, you had nothing to be scared of, Steve was a good doctor, he'd take care of you.
"Just remember to breathe sweetheart and relax." He coaxed with a hitch in his throat, barely holding himself together as his cock pressed stiff and hard against the inside of his slacks, weeping and needy.
"Okay Doctor Kemp." You whimpered as your tummy tightened further.
"Call me Steve." He rasped as he tickled the tip of his middle finger against your opening.
"Steve?" You questioned, though it came out shaky and weak.
"Mmm. Yeah sweetie." He hummed, "You call me Steve, we know each other well enough."
"Okay Steve." You whined softly before letting out a loud moan, "Ahhh!"
"Oh yeah there we go." He grinned as he pushed his middle finger into your pussy to join the other, "Doing so good sweetie, got two fingers in there."
"Oh god. I feel...funny...." You mumbled as heat spread to the tips of your ears and tingles spread across your abdomen, stomach tightening in a way you'd never experienced in your life.
"That's good sweetheart." Steve hummed happily as he sloppily fucked you with his fingers, "That's perfect, you're going to have an orgasm."
"I am?" You gasped, unable to stop yourself from wiggling and digging your fingers into the plastic feeling bed to try and ground yourself.
"Yeah. Just let it happen." He continued, pressing more firmly on your clit and slapping his palm against your core with each thrust of his fingers, "Let me help you."
"Okay Steve." You whined, back arching from the bed involuntarily like it had a mind of its own.
"That's it. Fuck you're perfect." He groaned, using his free hand to grab his cock through his slacks, squeezing it tightly, "So tight, so wet."
"Steve." You whimpered as you felt like you were about to plummet into the abyss, body overtaken with the strange but pleasurable sensations.
"Say my name baby." He grunted, "Say my name when you come on my fingers."
You felt his fingers curl inside you, pressing on a spot that had you suddenly crying his name as your vision whited and your whole body was taken over by a white hot bliss.
"Oh god. Steeveee!" You moaned with tears pooling in your eyes.
"There we go, there she is." He breathed shakily, slowing his movements to work you through the high, "Keep breathing sweetheart, you're okay."
When your body finally relaxed against the bed, shoulders slumping with exhaustion, Steve slipped his fingers from your core, settling his dry hand on your thigh.
"You okay?" He asked softly, looking over your spent body with a proud smile.
"Mmhmm." You hummed with a lazy nod, "That was...good....I liked it...was it okay?"
"It was perfect sweetie." He reassured you, "I'm just gonna have a little taste to make sure?"
"A taste?" You said, head tipping up and eyes snapping to his, seeing a dark glint in his eyes you'd never noticed before.
"Yeah, you can tell a lot by the taste?" He smirked.
You watched as he brought the creamy coated, blue latex to his mouth, swirling his tongue around the wet digits before sucking them into his mouth with a low hum.
"Mmm god." He groaned, shifting on his feet as his erection throbbed, "Fuck."
"Is it okay?" You breathed, worried by his reaction.
"Perfect. So perfect." He hummed as his eyes rolled in pleasure at the taste of your innocence.
"Okay good." You nodded, pushing yourself up onto your elbows and letting your legs drop flat onto the bed.
Steve slowly pulled his gloves off with loud snaps of rubber, before looking at you with a gleeful smile.
"Get dressed sweetheart and we'll have a chat." He grinned before stepping towards his desk and pulling the curtain across the space, as though he hadn't just seen every part of you.
"So it was all okay?" You asked as you pulled the curtain back, clothes now firmly in place as you crossed the space and carefully sat in your seat, watching his reaction with interest.
"Yes and no." He hummed with a nod as he typed something on his computer.
"What is it?" You replied as anxiety began niggling in your mind.
He let out a sigh before turning to face you, placing his hands on your knees softly.
"You're ready sweetheart but there's a small problem." He said with a serious expression that had you shifting in your seat, hands clutching each other uselessly.
"What is it?" You mumbled as fresh tears began to pool.
"Well you're so tight that it's going to be difficult for you to have sex, painful." He admitted and your eyes widened in surprise, you had never thought about the fact that someone may not be able to fit, it hadn't even crossed your mind. You internally scolded yourself for being so stupid and naive. Your friends spoke about sex like it was so easy, you should have known it wouldn't be that simple.
"Oh." You murmured, "Is there something I can take to help?"
"I think it would be best if you come back tomorrow for a longer appointment and I will pop your cherry for you. I'll be able to do it safely and with minimal pain for you." He said, brows furrowing in concentration to stop the smirk threatening to over take his face.
"You mean? Like with equipment?" You squeaked nervously, cursing yourself when you felt more wetness pooling at the thought of Doctor Kemp playing with you again.
"No sweetie, I'll do it myself, with my cock, take real good care of you." He said softly, reaching a hand up to cradle your cheek with a genuine tenderness, "Then you should be ready for other people."
"Really? You'd do that?" You almost whimpered under his touch.
"Of course Sweetheart. Anything to help." He smiled, "I wouldn't be a very good doctor otherwise would I?"
"I guess not." You giggled, watching as his lips twisted up into a charming smile.
"Okay then." He grinned as he released you, "You go home and get some rest. You'll need it for tomorrow."
"Okay doc...Steve." You corrected yourself with a shy smile before standing, "See you tomorrow."
"Can't wait sweetheart." He smiled, watching your ass jiggle as you walked away, with his lip between his teeth and a promise to his cock that tomorrow was the day he would finally make you his, you just didn't know it yet.
Warnings: this fic contains arranged marriage and suggestions of dubcon and noncon, as well as adultery. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
18+ only, explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
You voted, I wrote it. This is June 8th’s fic!
Andy Barber + “I'm tired of repeating myself.”
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Andrew takes his jacket off. Andy. That’s what he told you to call him. The metal on your finger presses into your flesh and you look down. You pinch the white stone through the lace glove and quickly pull your hands apart.
You exhale and look up as you sense movement. He puts his jacket over a hanger then tugs at his bowtie. Your eyes wander around the room. Dark hardwood and ivory curtains. The bed has canopies draped from the tall posts and the edges of the pillow cases are scalloped. From what you’ve seen of the massive house, it’s all intricately decorated. Nothing is out of place… but you.
He slings the bowtie over the bottom of the hanger and unbuttons his vest. Petals from the corsage still on his jacket flutter down to the carpet. He strips off the vest and you watch how his shoulders strain his white shirt.
He hangs the vest too as you stare at his thick neck and the neat trim of his beard. Your ankle bends. As you fix your stance, your heel clunks and draws his attention. He looks at you and you wince.
“Relax,” he says as he pulls free the tails of his shirt from trousers.
You nod. He nears as his shirt hangs slack. He stops in front of you and takes your hand. He peels off the lace gloves, tugging each finger delicately. He strips them both away and sets them aside. You tremble.
“Honey, please… relax.” He says again.
You’re trying but you can’t even say so. Your chest is so tight. This is the man you’ll spend the rest of your life with and you just met him five hours ago.
He takes your hands again. He kisses each knuckle, each time looking at you. Your hands are heavy like stone. He squeezes them, rubbing his thumbs along the back.
“Re-lax.” He insists.
You curl your fingers and straighten them. You just can’t get the tension out. He lets your hands fall and gets even closer. He traces the off-the-shoulder neckline down to your body and trails down to the skirt. He pinches the fabric and purrs.
He drags his hand around your hip as he circles you. He stands behind you. You shiver. He undoes the top button of the dress. You gasp.
He continues down the buttons, plucking each one free of the loop. He stops halfway and grips the fabric. He jerks you.
“I’m tired of repeating myself.” He growls. He yanks and the rest of the buttons scatter as the dress slackens entirely. “I said relax.” He pushes the bodice down to your waist. You pull your arms free of the sleeves and squirm. “I’m being nice.”
“I’m sorry,” you eke out and clasp your hands in front of your lacy strapless bra.
He shoves the dress until the skirts heap around your ankles and calves. You look down as you twist, the lacy thong high on your hips and exposing your ass and most of your pelvis. He touches your bare back and drags his touch up your sides. He squeezes and growls.
“You said it. You made the vow.” He drawls into your hair. He reaches to touch the gem-covered clip. “You said you’re mine.” He strokes down your cheek and opens his hand to frame your chin. He nuzzles the rim of your ear. “So why are you acting so scared?”
You shake as he presses himself to your back.
“It’ll only hurt more if you don’t relax.” He enunciates the last word harshly, his other hand slipping down along the front of your panties.
AN: Who would like some more Nick and his Bratty Sugar-baby for day 8 of #JuneJukeboxScribbles?
The prompt is Livin’ la vida loca - Ricky Martin.
Unbeta’d. Banner and divider by me.
Master list | Jukebox Master list | Series Master list | Join my tag list
Relationship: Nick Fowler x Bratty Sugar-baby female reader.
Word count: 300
CW: Domestic fluff, Impulsivity
You threw your book down with a sigh.
“I’m bored, Nicky,” you announced with a pout, looking over to where he was ensconced at his desk, dealing with paperwork. Outside the rain was pouring down, like it had been doing yesterday as well.
“I’m sorry, draga. I’ll be finished soon and then we can do something.”
You crossed your arms and huffed. He’d said the same thing an hour ago.
Suddenly, the lights went out, and you let out a shocked squeal as darkness surrounded you.
“It’s alright, prinţesă,” Nick crooned, and you heard the scrape of his chair as well as the opening and closing of the desk drawer. A moment later the soft glow of a flame lifted the gloom. “Give me a moment.” He moved gracefully around the room, lighting candles until the room felt positively cosy. “Is that better?” he asked as he sat down next to you. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your face into his soft sweater.
“Absolutely. And I have an idea about what we can do?”
“Oh yes,” he questioned. “New kicks in the candlelight?”
“Mmm-hmm,” you hummed, before getting to your feet. You took hold of his hands, pulling him up and walked backwards towards the patio doors. The yellow candlelight flickered over his handsome face and your heart raced.
You moved your hands to his waist, wriggling them under his sweater and running your palms over his firm torso, before dragging the knitted fabric from his form.
“What are you up to, draga?”
With a smile, you pulled your dress over your head, opened the doors and ran out into the rain.
“Come and dance with me, Nicky,” you laughed.
With a shake of his head, he pushed his jeans down his legs, before joining you.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader, Steve x fem!Reader x Bucky
Word count: 3k
A/N: Thanks for reading, and extra thank you to anyone that commented and/or reblogged because it means a lot! No taglist, please follow @idkxwriting-taglist and turn on notifications to be alerted of new chapters :)
Also, I'm sorry apparently tumblr took the page breaks away!? eww.
comments, feedback, likes and reblogs give me life <3
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Steve wouldn’t have bothered coming in any other circumstances. He’s sure Bucky wanted to be there even less than he did, these things, parties, fundraisers, the crowds, they always made his friend feel like he was suffocating. But he wants to support Bucky, and if he’s going to run for Congress, if he’s going to revamp his image, he has to play the part. So Steve shows up for Bucky.
The fact that you may attend may have encouraged him a little more.
But as he moves through the ballroom, he thinks it was all a bad idea. He can’t relax, like he’s searching for you with every movement, not sure if he hopes to find you or not. He has conversations with guests, all while he stumbles over the words he wants to say to you over and over in his head.
He finally spots you from across the room, and it steals the breath from his lungs. You don’t see him, but smile softly at something someone says, and it’s like falling all over again. All the months of missing you culminating into this moment, the burden of heartbreak lifting with the corners of your mouth.
Until you shift and he sees your date place his hand on the small of your back. He says something, making you laugh. He shoves the jealousy simmering in his chest further down, smothers it with reminders of why you are no longer together.
“You doing okay?” Bucky’s voice cuts through his thoughts.
His jaw tightens as he nods. “I’m fine,” he reassures him.
Bucky follows his line of sight and pauses. “Is she here with someone?” He asks incredulously.
Steve doesn’t bother trying to explain it away. “She looks happy,” he observes instead.
“You can’t be okay with this?” Bucky asks.
“Of course I’m not okay with this,” he runs a hand across his face. “But she asked us for time.”
“Yea, to figure things out with us.”
Steve nods, biting the inside of his cheek as his own frustration bubbles up.
“She’s had six months,” Bucky reminds him.
Is that all it had been? “It feels like a lifetime,” he whispers, his eyes never leaving you.
“Then let’s go get her,” Bucky is fired up.
Steve shakes his head. “And say what?”
“Tell her this is ridiculous, to come home.”
“If she wanted one of us, she wouldn’t be here with another guy. We have to let her make her own decisions, even if it’s not us. It’s the right thing to do,” Steve repeats the words he has said to himself every single day since letting you go.
He waits for validation. For his best friend to remind him that their misery is a small price to pay. But the words never come. Bucky says nothing, the silence stretching between them.
Steve doesn’t fill the silence as he walks away. He needs to clear his head, forget the vision of you, vibrant and beautiful, with some guy. What has been the point of the last few months if you are still here, floating in their orbit, just out of reach?
He makes his way to the bar, chasing thoughts of you with shots he knows won’t be able to keep up.
Another shot and he feels no different, so he weaves his way through the party-goers, smiling politely when people whisper about seeing Captain America up close. He pretends he doesn’t hear it, pretends he doesn’t hate that they just see a symbol, and remembers how even from day one you had only ever seen him.
It stings in his chest, and it’s too warm, too crowded, too loud. He finds himself on the balcony, inhaling the icy cold air, the sharpness of it claws at the inside of his lungs, but at least it’s something.
He rests his arms on the rail, looking out at the city lights for a moment before hanging his head with a sigh.
He’s survived worse, he thinks, but then he’s not sure.
Because it didn’t feel like this before. Not when he thought he lost Bucky, or when he put the plane into the water. Not when he woke up again all those years later to find he was robbed of a lifetime, or at the Battle of New York. He has broken bones, been shot, stabbed, beaten within an inch of his life, and every time the serum worked through his blood, piecing him back together again.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget he isn’t invincible, and there are some things even a super serum can’t heal.
“Hi.”
It’s a salve to his wounds.
He lifts his head slowly, shutting his eyes for a moment to try to recall everything about you, hopes that when he turns to find you, he realizes he’s romanticized the whole thing, built you up so high in his mind that it’s impossible for you to meet him there.
He takes a steadying breath, turns slowly, and when his eyes finally meet yours he realizes it was the memories that could never do you justice. You’re perfection before him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. You’re wearing that same soft smile from earlier and he thinks it might be the death of him.
“Hi,” he manages to whisper back.
You bite your lip nervously as you step up to the rail, choosing to get lost in city lights instead of him. He watches you closely, memorizing every line of your face. He decides if he will spend the rest of his days haunted, at least he’ll have this.
“How are you?” You ask.
Miserable. He wants to tell you how the last few months have been excruciating. How he hasn’t been sleeping, he’s lost his appetite. He’s working himself to the bone just to avoid being alone with his thoughts because when he’s alone he forgets why he has to forget you. He leaves on missions so he doesn’t show up at your door. He wants to tell you how many times he’s thought of calling you, but stopped because he doesn’t know how to talk to you without confessing he regrets every moment without you. He wants to tell you that he hoped you’d be here just as hard as he hoped you wouldn’t show, because he doesn’t know how to do this - not with you.
“I’m good,” he says instead. “Really good.” You nod along, and he wonders if you can see through him, too. He keeps the conversation going though, not giving you a chance to dwell on the lie. “You looked like you were having fun in there.”
You let out a breathy laugh. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but even stumbling through is still moving forward so you try. “Might as well try to enjoy it, right?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets when you shiver softly as the chill in the air whips around you both, because you aren’t his to keep warm anymore.
Another silence settles over the two of you, and you both try to break it at the same time.
“It’s good to see yo-“
“How’s work goi-“
He cringes at the thought that the two of you are reduced to small talk.
“Sorry,” he mutters, and dives in because if he can’t do this with you, if all that’s left is small talk and pleasantries, he’s not sure he’ll survive. “Does he make you happy?”
You quirk one eyebrow up at him. “Are we really doing this?”
He doesn’t know how to answer you.
You let out a heavy breath, and begin to shiver again, crossing your arms over your chest to try to hold in any remaining warmth.
He knows it’s not his place, but he can’t help it as he strips off his suit jacket, placing it around your shoulders, his hands lingering a little longer than they should when he presses the fabric against your arms.
“Thank you,” you pull his coat around you.
“Answer the question, doll.” Bucky finally steps outside, his eyes meet yours and you shift uncomfortably. Still, he locks his gaze, and you can’t help the heat that floods your cheeks. “You’re dating?” He asks, his tone accusatory. The anger is rolling off of him in waves.
You wonder if he misses you as much as you miss him, even only a few feet apart. You could ask, probably should. You should at least say something, because you can tell that he’s waiting.
It’s not lost on you that the two people you are closest to, the two people you love the most in the world, the ones that are taking up the majority of space on the small balcony - are the very ones you feel furthest from.
The silence is deafening.
“Are we ever going to talk about this?” Steve asks when you offer them nothing.
You clear your throat. “I just need time.” You chance a glance at Steve, but it’s not any easier. Where Bucky’s eyes are fire and impatience, Steve’s are full of heartbreak and longing. You’re not sure what’s worse. You shift uncomfortably. “Maybe it’s not the time or place…” you suggest, hoping they’ll let it drop.
Steve clears his throat, and Bucky knows he’s willing to let it go to keep the peace. He interjects. “I think this is exactly the time and place, because we’ve been patient. For months.”
“Buck…” Steve sighs.
Bucky ignores him, and you take a step back as he marches over towards you. “No, I’m done being patient.”
Steve moves between you, puts his hand on Bucky’s chest, his jaw set in warning.
“I love you,” he says to you over his friend’s shoulder. Steve releases him then, suddenly feeling torn between offering the two of you privacy and confessing his own feelings.
Bucky either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, continuing his outburst. “It’s been months, and I know I said to take all the time you need, and if more time is really what you need,” he sighs. “I’ll do it. I will. Because I love you, and I’d wait forever for you, if that’s what you want.”
You’re speechless, wanting to tell him you love him, too, but it doesn’t change anything because you still love the man beside him.
“But please, we can’t take the silence. Just come home to us, doll.”
“Come home?” You manage to whisper.
Steve’s eyes meet yours again and he nods solemnly.
Bucky glances back at his best friend. He considers for a moment, and takes another step toward you. “Tell us,” he says. “If you want Steve, I’ll walk away. If you want me, he’ll walk away.”
You glance at Steve, and again he nods in answer, silently telling you that whatever it is, it's okay.
Bucky rushes his next words out, afraid if he doesn't say them now he never will. “If you want us both, we’re in this.”
“What?” You ask.
“There you are,” Barker steps out onto the balcony, drinks in hand. He glances between the three of you, his brows furrowing. “Am I interrupting something here?”
“Yes,” Bucky and Steve answer in unison.
“Are these guys bothering you?” He asks. If it were any other situation you’d laugh at the thought of Barker defending you against Captain America and the Winter Soldier.
“Who are you, exactly, pal?” Bucky turns a cold hard stare.
“Buck,” Steve warns.
“I’m her date, who are you?”
You sigh because while yes, technically it’s a date, it had been unintentional (at least on your end) and you had planned to let him down gently.
“Her boyfriend,” Bucky answers.
Barker looks crushed when he turns his attention to you. “You have a boyfriend?”
You want to say no, to deny that’s what Bucky is to you. You want to say he’s so much more, but you can’t give Bucky a title, let him stake a claim, without demolishing Steve.
And demolishing Steve would be devastating.
“Technically two…” you manage to mutter.
“Maybe we should give you two a minute,” Steve suggests, placing his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.
Bucky shakes it off. “No, she’s had enough time. This is ridiculous, come home. Look, it’s complicated, sure, but I’ll be damned if we have to share you with what’s his name…”
“Barker,” your date supplies.
“Barker. What is that? Barker…do you want to share her with some boy named after the sound a dog makes?” He asks Steve.
Steve shakes his head, and almost feels bad for the kid, but remembers his hands on you and his sympathy dissipates.
“Then we go and hash it out…the three of us. I love you,” he confesses again, turning to you. “But if it’s Steve, if he’s what you want, I’ll step aside.”
Steve nods, because he knows he’ll do the same. Not for Barker, but for Bucky? He can live with that, even if it does tear him to pieces.
“What if I can’t decide?” You ask quietly. Because you’ve tormented yourself for six months, tried to separate yourself into pieces, box away feelings for each of them so the lines would stop blurring.
Bucky swallows nervously, because it’s a thought he’s been running with all week. “Then I’m okay with that, too,” he says quietly.
Steve’s brows furrow as the words sink into him.
“I know it’s not conventional,” he adds. “I just want you to be happy, and Steve’s the best person I know. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t even entertain the thought, but with you?” He turns to Steve and shrugs. “You love her, and I love her, and I’m okay with that.”
“Buck…”
“Besides,” Bucky adds. “It’s not like I haven’t been sharing her with you since the beginning. I’ve always known how she’s felt about you.”
Steve lets out a humorless laugh at that. Bucky had been a constant, at the root of his relationship with you since the beginning.
Hadn’t it been the three of you this whole time?
Still, the reality of what Bucky was proposing was complicated and messy. Could he tamper his jealousy and really share you? And not only emotionally (hadn’t he always?), but physically. It meant not just openly acknowledging your feelings for his best friend, but seeing you with him. How would it feel to see Bucky’s lips on your skin, or you in his arms? What would it be like to see his hand in yours?
He let his mind drift, to imagine a world where the three of you could have it all. A world where Bucky held your hand and he waited for the jealousy and hurt to creep in. Instead, he thought of what it’d be like to be on your other side, your fingers intertwined with his own.
He thought of Barker, his hand on the small of your back in a crowded room. The jealousy and hurt settled in his gut instantly.
It wasn’t conventional, and in practice probably still complicated, but complications he could work out with the two of you, complications he found himself wanting to work out.
He blushed, confidence leaving him as his eyes met Bucky. He wasn’t sure how this would work, or even if it was a possibility. Maybe you really did prefer to start fresh, to leave them both behind. He’d give it to you though, if that’s what you wanted, because he would do anything to give you what you needed.
“Could this work?” He asked.
Bucky shrugged. “I’m not sure,” he answered honestly. “I just know that with the two of you I’m willing to try.”
“I’m sorry, I feel like I’m missing something here,” Barker interjects again.
You barely register his voice, laser focused on the conversation in front of you that just happened. “What are you saying?” You breathe.
You turn your attention to him, along with Steve and Bucky. “Barker, I’m sorry, I don’t think this is going to work out the way you had hoped. You’re a great guy, but I…” you glance between your two super soldiers. “My heart belongs to someone else,” you admit. You turn to Barker once more, take a step towards him and offer a sad smile. “I hope we can be friends.”
Barker looks offended, his brows pulled together as he searches the three of you for clarity. “Whatever,” he finally says, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I don’t really do complicated. I’ll see you around,” he turns and leaves.
You take a moment, watching Barker’s retreat before dropping your eyes to your own feet. You take deep breaths, trying to steady yourself, because surely you’re dreaming.
“Sweetheart,” Steve calls. You turn and find both men looking at you, waiting for an answer to a question you never dared dream.
“Is this what you want?” You ask him, because Bucky has done all the talking.
He watches you for a moment, gauging your reaction, can all but see your heart pounding because everything you’ve ever wanted is right there, just out of your reach. He sees the hope in your eyes and there it is. His answer. Because all he wants, all he’s ever wanted, is for you to be happy. “I want you,” he says. “And the reality of our situation is it’s always been the three of us.”
You want to cry, because you feel so damn selfish. “You deserve more,” you admit. “You both do."
Bucky shakes his head. “What more could we want?” He asks.
“All of me,” you cry. “You want all of me, and I can’t give it to either of you.”
Bucky takes a step forward and his hand caresses your face, wiping the tear rolling down your cheek. “This is all of you,” he says. “Steve is a part of you, just like I am. And it’s more than enough for me.”
You clear your throat, eyes finding Steve, and your cheeks flush. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you want this,” Steve begs. “Choose us.”
You nod, emotions overwhelming you. The tears won’t stop now, and Steve moves because damn, he’s missed you.
They hug you tightly, both breathing in relief, lips pressing into your hair. It feels natural, having both of them wrapped around you.
You feel like after all this time you’re finally home.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader, Steve x fem!Reader x Bucky
A/N: Thanks for reading, and extra thank you to anyone that commented and/or reblogged because it means a lot! No taglist, please follow @idkxwriting-taglist and turn on notifications to be alerted of new chapters :) Also, I'm sorry apparently tumblr took the page breaks away!? eww.
comments, feedback, likes and reblogs give me life <3
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Wakanda - Before the Snap
“You’re in the most beautiful place in the world, and yet I don’t think I’ve seen anyone who looks so sad in my life.”
You turn and offer a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes, but it still makes his chest ache. “Just a lot on my mind,” you say.
Bucky nods silently and watches the crowd beneath you. King T’challa was kind enough to include you both in the festivities, but he prefers the sidelines, observing. He realizes it’s a test, building trust, but he’s still on edge.
Your company is comforting, and he can’t help but notice that even in his silences you don’t feel uncomfortable. You give your trust freely. You see only him, not a weapon.
You sigh and turn towards him, your back leaning against a pillar and a drink in hand. “You know, you don’t exactly look happy either,” you observe.
“Me? Oh I’m thrilled,” he says dryly.
You take a sip of your drink. “You forgot to tell your face.”
He chuckles at that, relaxes a little more. “I’ll try to remember for next time.” He leans on the pillar opposite you, his eyes holding yours. “Steve’s my best friend…”
You glance away, taking another sip of your champagne.
“And I love him,” he continues, treading lightly. “But sometimes he’s a little thick headed.”
You laugh and nod. “What makes you say that?”
He doesn’t mention the fact that it’s obvious you’re hung up on his best friend, that he knows you’re only here with him because Steve asked. “I know you’d rather be anywhere but here, and I’m sorry.”
You bite the inside of your cheek and he knows you understand, but he lets the secret slip away, discarded and buried where you leave it.
You shrug this time, eyes meeting his once more. You smile softly, blushing under his gaze. “It’s not so bad here,” you admit quietly.
He can’t help the elation that builds in his chest at your admission, and wonders if maybe you’ve felt it too. He pushes off the pillar, stepping into you and taking your drink. He sets it down on the ledge and offers you his hand.
Your eyebrow raises in question, wondering what he’s got up his sleeve.
“Come on,” he says. “Let’s get out of here. Crowds aren’t really my thing.”
Bucky isn’t sure what it is, he’s only known you for a few weeks and most of your time together is spent in silence, but he finds himself seeking you out anyway. More than that, he trusts you.
You take his hand, and let him lead you away from the party.
You end up in the field by his hut, a blanket spread out in the grass under the stars.
He’s often quiet and stoic, but for the first time in years he feels like himself. Not like the soldier, but before Hydra. Before brain-washing and manipulation. His walls crumble down around you, as if they stood no chance to begin with.
Conversation flows easily and when you smile his heart flutters wildly in his chest and he decides he’ll do anything to keep you smiling like that.
He lays on his back and you follow as he points out constellations and makes up ridiculous stories behind them until your sides hurt from laughing.
“I swear,” he laughs as he wraps up another silly tale.
You shake your head catching your breath. “I took astronomy in college,” you giggle.
“Astronomy is science, this is astrology,” he quips.
“Well. I know a lot about that, too…”
“Are you calling me a liar, doll?” He teases.
The term of endearment slips with ease and he notices the way you still, the way your eyes dart away but not because it’s unwanted. No, the blush in your cheeks and the grin trying to pull at your lips say otherwise.
“No, I guess you’d know better. You’re like what, a hundred years old?” You tease back.
He feigns hurt. “You know, you should show some more respect, I could teach you a thing or two,” he winks before sitting up.
The mood shifts and you sit up slowly. You lean your head gently on his shoulder and the nerves he feels at the simple touch are unfamiliar.
“Bucky?”
“Hmm?”
“Do you miss home?”
He turns to look at you, his face serious. “How could I miss it on a night like this?” He whispers.
You don’t say anything for a moment, but he catches your eyes dropping to his lips for a moment.
“What about you?” He asks.
“Not when I’m with you,” you confess.
He studies you for a moment, eyes searching for any trace that it’s all been one sided - that the feelings he’s had have been growing alone, and you’re not really here with him. He doesn’t find it, your gaze chasing the last of the doubts away. He leans in slowly, committing this moment to memory, his breath fanning across your cheek.
When his lips meet yours it’s soft and sweet. His hand cups your cheek and you part your lips gently.
He takes the hint, his tongue sweeping your lips delicately.
For the first time in a long time, Bucky feels grounded. Warmth travels through his stomach up to his chest.
As he kisses you under the stars he knows this is it for him. He’s had a crush since the moment he saw you, liked you from the very first conversation. And now?
He’s loved you since the very first kiss.
*****
Present Day
“James? I asked you a question.”
Bucky is pulled from his memories of you reluctantly, and sighs when Dr. Raynor starts to write in her notebook.
He hates when she writes.
“It’s complicated,” he admits.
Her eyes lift and her pen stops. “Complicated how?” She asks.
He groans internally, understanding that a condition of his pardon was therapy, but frustrated at the way she pokes and prods at him. “Aren’t all relationships complicated?” He counters.
She shakes her head. “No,” she replies in a matter-of-fact tone. “Healthy ones aren’t.”
He shifts at the accusation. “We’re healthy,” he bites.
“Then why is it complicated?”
He sighs. “Because not everyone disappeared in the blip.”
“What does that mean?” She leads him.
He doesn’t want to share you with her, but he resents the implication that you weren’t good for him. Or maybe he wasn’t good for you, which hits him harder because there might be some truth there that he’s not willing to examine. He knows she is chipping away at him, hates that it’s working, but the need to defend you is almost instinctive. “It means some of us had to keep going, move on with life.”
“And did she?”
His eyes narrow at her, and he wonders just how they landed on the subject in the first place. “Yes.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
He shrugs. “Does it matter?”
“You tell me.”
He sighs and his leg starts to bounce as the anger builds. He locks eyes with Dr. Raynor, staring her down and fully intending to ride out the clock again when she starts to write. “Don’t do that,” he snaps. “The notebook thing? It’s passive aggressive.”
She raises her brows, silently giving him the ultimatum - talk and she’ll listen. If he’s silent, she’ll write.
“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that Doc?”
“So I’ve been told,” she answers dryly. “So she’s moved on, how do you feel?”
“Angry,” he admits.
“Okay, why?”
“Because I would have waited,” he answers quickly, the confession taking him by surprise.
Dr. Raynor places the notebook down and sits back.
“Because he had no right…”
“Who is he?” When he doesn’t answer she prompts him again. “You say you would have waited. You didn’t ship off to war, James. You were gone. Erased. Turned to dust.”
“Dead.”
She nods. “If it had been her…”
He shrugs because he can’t blame you. He’s not angry with you, not really. “I love her,” he finally says. “And she still loves me. Even after all this time.”
“So what’s the problem?”
Bucky looks towards the window and watches the flecks of dust dance in the stream of sunlight beaming through. “She loves him, too.”
“Relationships aren’t always complicated, James. People are complicated, yes. Most of the time it just breaks down to communication, whether or not we’re brave enough to say what we mean, ask for what we need, be honest with what we can offer.”
He needs you, he thinks. But he needs Steve, too.
“It sounds like this other man is someone important to you, too.” He doesn’t answer, so she continues. “I want you to work on communication with him - work on making amends and forgiving the people that you’ve let into your life, because from what I can tell you don’t trust a lot of people, and if you shut them out, who’s left?”
He rolls his eyes. “I have people.”
“Name five,” she challenges.
He glares and crosses his arms over his chest.
“You’re alone, James. You have a chance here to not be alone. And maybe it doesn’t look exactly as you pictured it, but love rarely does.”
It confuses him, but before he can ask what she means she’s telling him times up.
Just as well, he decides.
*****
Wakanda - Before the Snap
“Get her out of here,” Bucky growls.
Ayo turns towards you, indicating you should stay. Your eyes flash to Bucky with apology, but you’re not about to challenge her.
“She is safe,” Ayo says firmly.
Bucky shakes his head. “Are you sure about this?” He asks.
He doesn’t think he’s ready, and you feel the doubt radiating off of him. You decide it doesn’t matter, that you’ll believe enough for the both of you.
“I won’t let you hurt anyone,” Ayo says with certainty, a hint of amusement in her kind eyes.
You’ve seen her in action, and know she’s good for her promise.
Bucky glances at you through the flames of the fire and you offer a reassuring smile.
“Longing,” Ayo begins.
Your body stills.
“Rusted.”
You don’t speak Russian but the words are embedded in your chest.
“Furnace.”
Bucky focuses on the flames, waiting.”
“Daybreak.”
You want to tell her to stop, that he’s in pain, that it’s too much.
“Seventeen.”
But you know he has to do this.
“Benign.”
He can do this.
“Nine.”
He grits his teeth, fighting with everything he has.
“Homecoming.”
Please, you think. Please do this.
“One.”
Your heart stops.
“Freight car.”
The silence is deafening, as if you’re all waiting for the violence, but it never comes.
Bucky begins to cry, his body loosening with each second that passes.
“You are free,” Ayo looks down at him with pride.
He looks up at his savior in disbelief.
“You are free,” she repeats.
The sobs are uncontrollable now as he drops his head.
Your own eyes tear up and you want to go to him, but you wait. He’s lived with the Winter Soldier for so long, and for the first time in decades he has a moment to himself.
You aren’t sure how long you sit there, watching him cry through the flames, but when he looks up and thanks Ayo you move.
She nods, and her eyes meet yours as you wrap your arms around Bucky.
“Thank you,” you mouth silently to her as Bucky falls into you.
She nods once more before disappearing into the trees.
“Hey,” you brush the hair from his face, fingers chasing the tears away. “You’re free, Bucky. You’re really free.”
He presses his lips to yours in a heated kiss before burying his face into your neck, his arm wrapped tightly around you. “I love you,” he whispers into your skin.
You still for a moment, unsure if you heard him right and he pulls back to look at you. “I’m finally free, so now I can tell you,” he smiles gently. “I love you.”
You lean in and kiss him hungrily.
“I love you, too,” you manage to get out before his lips are back on yours. “Bucky,” you pant. “Take me home.”
*****
Present Day
You blink, realizing you’ve been working on the same line of coding for about twenty minutes. Spacing out was more and more common these days.
You want to blame exhaustion. Between work, the house and running comms for Sam Wilson in your spare time you’re burnt out.
But it’s more than that.
You sigh, your thoughts straying the one place you don’t often let them go these days.
Steve and Bucky.
There’s a sharp pain in your chest, which is different than the numbness you’ve allowed yourself to sink into in your day to day life.
You fucking miss them.
It’s been six months since the Blip. Six months since you left Bucky and Steve, asking for time. You know they’re waiting, you see the text messages checking in with you that go ignored. You’ve had Sam in your ear, telling you they’re driving him nuts and to just call. Still you’re silent, because you aren’t sure what there is to say. There are no words to fix the damage you’ve caused, no way out that leaves all hearts intact. The best you can hope for is to minimize their pain and take the brunt of it yourself.
You’re pulled from your thoughts when your coworker, Barker, calls your name. You startle to find him at your desk and wonder how long he’s been standing there without you noticing.
“You okay?” He asks with concern.
“Yea…sorry, Barker.” You shake your head pulling your focus. “Spaced out. What did you say?”
He laughs. “I asked if you were going tonight.”
You roll your eyes. “It’s mandatory.”
“Doesn’t mean it can’t be fun…”
You shoot him a glare. “It’s a tacky excuse for a party,” you mutter before turning towards your computer once more.
He shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest. “We’re celebrating. Things have been hard since the Blip, it’s a chance for us all to stop and appreciate that we’re here.”
You want to tell him not all of us, tell him while you’re glad so many people got their lives back, the fact that Nat and Tony are gone (really gone) doesn’t really leave you in the party mood.
Instead you sigh, because he has a point. Most people are so removed from the sacrifices made. They barely recognize what Nat gave up. They know Tony laid down his life, but they never stop to think about the wife and child he left behind or the friends and teammates that carry the weight of “it should have been me.” At least not really.
You brush it all away, letting the numbness that you’ve become so comfortable with spread through you. “I’ll be there,” you say.
He grins enthusiastically but you are already back in the file you were working on, dismissing him.
You don’t hear him ask if you want to go together, just humming and nodding along to the buzz of his voice. You don’t notice when he says he’ll pick you up at your place later, your brain in a fog.
“It’s a date.”
Now that you do hear. You turn in shock, ready to fill in the blanks, but he’s already gone, a stride in his step as you watch him through the glass windows of your office. Shit.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader, eventual Steve x fem!Reader x Bucky
Warnings: smut …minors dni
Word count: 4.7k
A/N: Hey guys! I’ve gotten a few dms for being added to a taglist - No taglist, please follow @idkxwriting-taglist and turn on notifications to be alerted of new chapters :)
if you think a taglist is better please send me an ask and let me know, but without feedback I’ll be sticking to the other blog.
Thanks for reading, and extra thank you to anyone that commented and/or reblogged because it means a lot!
dividers by @whimsicalrogers
Send me asks and let me know where you’d like to see things go :D
comments, feedback, likes and reblogs give me life and encourage me to keep writing <3
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You haven’t slept.
You find your way back home, back to Brooklyn. Steve and Bucky shuffle in behind you quietly, watching you carefully, waiting for you to break.
You can tell Steve is unsure, he’s lost his footing and doesn’t know where things stand. You’d gladly tell him, if only you knew.
“Are you hungry?” Steve asks quietly.
You shake your head.
“You’ve got to eat something, doll,” Bucky objects.
Your eyes snap to him, and not for the first time in the last 48 hours you find yourself wrapping your arms around his waist and just holding on.
You hear Steve’s footsteps as he walks away, know it must hurt, but you just need to know Bucky is real.
“Come on,” Bucky whispers into your hair. “Steve will make you something. In the meantime let’s get you showered.”
Your body stiffens at that, because he doesn’t know. He holds you like nothing has changed, only everything has changed. Offers to help you like he’s done a thousand times, your bodies pressed together under a cascading spray of water while his hands lather you with soap and work out the worries you carry. You know if you say yes he’d strip you carefully, his fingertips would glide across your curves, and he’d pull you into him and whisper tender words that were only meant for you.
And in some ways it’d even feel right again.
Only now you know he wouldn’t just find the bruises from the battle. He’d find Steve’s claim on you, discoloration left from fingertips on your hips, marks left by teeth and lips on your stomach and thighs.
Even now, Steve’s hold on you is just as strong, and it leaves you confused.
How could they both possibly feel right?
You shake your head, catching Steve’s eye before clearing your throat. Your confession bubbles up in your chest but you swallow it back down because you’re too tired. Your limbs are heavy, and your heart aches. “I think I’d like to be alone,” you whisper.
Bucky nods, but you see the pain of rejection flash across his face. “Of course. Go clean up, we’ll get you some food and then you can rest.”
He doesn’t say anything when you disappear into the back bedroom. He doesn’t say anything when Steve cooks your favorite comfort food like it’s habit. The two of them sit quietly with you as you eat what you can before dismissing yourself back to your bedroom. He doesn’t say anything when Steve’s eyes trail after you with concern.
He doesn’t say anything when Steve insists he take the other bedroom, that he doesn’t mind the couch and it’s fine.
He glances around the small bedroom, notices a picture framed of you and him. A selfie you had taken in Wakanda when you were trying to show him how to do “regular people” things.
He smiles at the memory, traces his fingers over the image of your face. He glances around the room, notices it’s not really lived in. It’s tidy and clean, and while it has a few personal touches, they’re minimal and he can tell this is a guest room.
He doesn’t let himself think about it, deciding you all need sleep, that this will make sense tomorrow.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, Bucky x fem!Reader, eventual Steve x fem!Reader x Bucky
Warnings: This one is short and has a lot from Endgame.
Word count: 1.4k
A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the delay. I’ve had some health things going on and I’ve been pretty low energy. This one is shorter, and follows Endgame, but I will have another chapter for you this week if you’d like.
No taglist, please follow @idkxwriting-taglist and turn on notifications to be alerted of new chapters :)
Thanks for reading, and extra thank you to anyone that commented and/or reblogged because it means a lot! *edited to add that there are some canon parts in here in which the dialogue is not mine lol*
Send me asks and let me know where you’d like to see things go :D
comments, feedback, likes and reblogs give me life and encourage me to keep writing <3
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Steve wakes, Tony above him with the shield. “You lose this again, I’m keeping it.”
“What happened?” He groans. His first thought is you, and he searches, taking stock of his surroundings. Who stands, who is missing.
You’re in the latter group.
“You mess with time, it tends to mess back. You’ll see,” Tony says.
He doesn’t have time to linger on it, but reminds himself you’re capable - grateful you had been training with Nat for a long time now, and confident she wouldn’t have left you unprepared.
He shuts out the what-ifs and worst case scenarios, trusting you to take care of yourself the way he trusts the rest of his teammates. He doesn’t have time for anything else, because he has to move.
He follows Tony through the wreckage, his gaze landing across the impending battlefield and landing on Thanos. He moves to stand between Tony and Thor, his teammates. His brothers.
“What’s he been doing?”
“Absolutely nothing,” Thor says.
“Where are the stones?” He asks.
Tony answers. “Somewhere under all this. All I know is he doesn’t have ‘em.”
“So we keep it that way,” he says. It’s his only mission now.
“You know it’s a trap, right?” Thor watches him across the field and Steve can feel the anger rolling off of him in waves.
“Yeah,” Tony says. “I don’t much care.”
“Good, just as long as we’re all in agreement,” Thor holds his hands up and the thunder rolls in.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, mentions of Bucky x fem!Reader, eventual Steve x fem!Reader x Bucky
Warnings: Time jumping in this one again! (just glimpses of Steve and Reader’s relationship throughout and what that means as they realize they have a chance of getting Bucky back). Angst. Smutty smut. 18+ only - skidaddle kids.
Word count: 2.5k
A/N: This week clearly got away from me. No taglist, please follow @idkxwriting-taglist and turn on notifications to be alerted of new chapters :) Thanks for reading, and extra thank you to anyone that commented and/or reblogged because it means a lot! *edited to add that there are some canon parts in here in which the dialogue is not mine lol*
comments, feedback, likes and reblogs give me life and encourage me to keep writing <3
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Natasha looks at Steve. She sees the hope in his eyes, but knows what it means for him.
She doesn’t say anything as they drive to see Tony Stark. She doesn’t mention the fact that he’s finally carved some of that simple life out for himself, and it’s likely he’ll have it all ripped away from him if they can pull this off.
She smirks to herself because he and Tony have more in common than they’d care to admit.
It goes about as well as expected. Steve knows it’s a big ask, but he also can’t give up this fight. He knows it’s bigger than Tony, Pepper and Morgan. It’s bigger than himself, bigger than you.
He doesn’t blame Tony. They’re talking time travel - there are no guarantees. Every piece of him wants to protect this life he’s built with you, and he thinks of Tony’s daughter, can only imagine how hard he’d fight if the two of you had…
He doesn’t let himself go there.
It hurts him to think about what this could mean for Tony. Even more to think about what it could mean for the two of you, but he has to do what’s right.
So they charge forward without the brilliant mind of Tony Stark.
Scott Lang falls asleep on the drive back.
“I take it she doesn’t know?” Natasha asks finally.
Steve clenches his jaw. He hasn’t told you anything, not even that he was going to see Tony. “I don’t want to get her hopes up,” he replies. “Not until we know more.”
She doesn’t bring it up again, doesn’t tell him you deserve to know or that the two of you have to talk about it. About what it will mean for you. She lets him sit with his thoughts for the rest of the drive.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, mentions of Bucky x fem!Reader, eventual Steve x fem!Reader x Bucky
Warnings: Time jumping in this one (just glimpses of Steve and Reader’s relationship through the first year). Angst. Smutty smut. 18+ only - skidaddle kids. Also - this chapter has some angry/rough (but consensual) sex, so just be warned that if that could be triggering to you skip
Word count: 2.8k
A/N: Sorry for the delay! I’ll hopefully have two updates for you guys this week. No taglist, please follow @idkhaylijahwrites and turn on notifications to be alerted of new chapters :) Thanks for reading, and extra thank you to anyone that commented and/or reblogged because it means a lot!
comments, feedback, likes and reblogs give me life and encourage me to keep writing <3
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The first time Steve really wants to tell you he loves you is a few weeks after your first night together.
He’s leaving for a mission, and while his body is jonesing for the action, his heart has him pinned firmly in your Brooklyn apartment.
He goes, because it’s his job. Because he doesn’t like bullies, and even though it’s quieter these days, it seems there’s always someone who wants to see the world burn. He goes because he can’t back down from a fight.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, mentions of Bucky x fem!Reader, eventual Steve x fem!Reader x Bucky
Warnings: Smutty smut. 18+ only - skidaddle kids.
Word count: 4.4k
A/N: Thanks for reading, and extra thank you to anyone that commented and/or reblogged because it means a lot! No taglist, please follow @idkhaylijahwrites and turn on notifications to be alerted of new chapters :)
comments, feedback, likes and reblogs give me life <3
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Steve glances around the familiar compound. It seems sad now that it’s so empty, instead filled with a heaviness. A reminder of everything they have lost.
Still, underneath the grief it somehow manages to feel like home.
He finds Natasha in Tony’s old office, her feet propped up on the desk.
“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” She smiles sadly at him, grateful to see her friend.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, mentions of Bucky x Reader, eventual Stucky x Reader
Warnings: grief, depression. Angst & eventual smut because I am who I am I guess…
Word count: 2k
A/N: Trying for weekly updates, so here you go! :) Thanks for reading, and extra thank you to anyone that commented and/or reblogged because it means a lot! No taglist, please follow @idkxwriting-taglist and turn on notifications to be alerted of new chapters :)
comments, feedback, likes and reblogs give me life <3
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You are dating again.
And it’s fine. Really.
Bucky has been gone for over two years. It only makes sense that you start dating again.
At least that’s what Steve tells himself.
“How do I look?” You ask, giving him a twirl.
He wants to tell you that you look beautiful. That any man would be lucky to have you, but words fail him, because if he tells you those things, he knows he’d never stop. He clears his throat, his eyes dropping to the floor as he moves past your question. “Who is this guy again?”
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, mentions of Bucky x Reader, eventual Stucky x Reader
Warnings: grief, depression. Angst & eventual smut because I am who I am I guess…
Word count: 2k
A/N: It’s been forever since I’ve written!!! Sorry guys. Hopefully you enjoy this - I know it’s not my usual, but wanted to take a breather from my normal characters for a bit :) Takes place after Infinity War. I guess it will mostly be canon compliant, but I’m just kind of running with stuff, so if anything doesn’t make sense in the timeline just don’t think too hard about it lol. Anyway, no taglist - if you’d like to be tagged, please follow @idkxwriting-taglist and turn on notifications. You can also follow me on ao3 or wattpad
comments, feedback, likes and reblogs are much appreciated <3
Requested by anon
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He answers his door with bed messed hair, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He doesn’t even bother to check, which is maybe irresponsible in his line of work, but he knows the routine by now.
He takes one look at you, and knows tonight is worse than most. Your eyes are red with dark circles beneath them. He makes a mental note to ask when you last slept… really slept, and wishes work wasn’t pulling him away as often as it did.
He doesn’t hesitate, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around your frame. You haven’t been eating, and it shows. He’ll make it a point to cook you breakfast in the morning, but for now… now he just holds you.
AN: Day 6, whoop whoop! Today’s prompt is Therefore I am by Billie Eilish and who better to fit the theme of this song than Ransom Drysdale?
Unbeta’d. Banner by me and divider by @firefly-graphics.
Master list | Jukebox Master list | Join my tag list
Relationship: Ransom Drysdale x Female Reader
Word count: 300
CW: Alcohol Consumption, Innuendo, Angst
You loved your job, really you did, but at this moment in time you wished you could be anywhere else.
“Hey, gorgeous!” The well-dressed patron of your gallery sauntered over to you, obviously more than three sheets to the wind. That was the problem with exhibition opening nights – too much complementary champagne and too many entitled assholes. Ransom being one of them.
You grabbed hold of his arms, mainly to steady him, but also to prevent him getting close enough to envelope you in an embrace.
“Mr Drysdale,” you greeted, a rictus grin on your face. “Thank you for coming.”
“Isn’t that my line?” he grinned back, with a smarmy waggle of his eyebrows. “And it’s Ransom, like I told you before.” Somehow you stamped down the urge to roll your eyes and carried on as if he hadn’t just said something crass, steering him to a quieter area, away from your other patrons.
“Have you seen any pieces that you like the look of yet?” There was a hopeful note to your voice - you needed to get this conversation onto professional ground.
His hands slipped your hold to take hold of your hips. “Definately, gorgeous.”
Now you did raise your eyebrow, before removing his sweaty paws from your dress.
“Look, Mr Drysdale… Ransom… I know that you think that you’re ‘the man’, but I’m not interested.”
He scowled down at you, hurt and sadness flashing in his eye. “Just after me for my money, eh, gorgeous? Just like everyone else? Only give me the time of day if I drop you 50K?”
Your mouth dropped open at his change of tone.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Screw you.” He whirled away in a cloud of expensive cologne and for some unknown reason, even though you shouldn’t, you felt guilty.
Tags: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, implied cannibalism, drug mention, implied overdose (not fatal), alcohol, twisting things from the movie because I can as there was nothing in the movie that would prove my theory wrong. LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANYTHING
A/N: Shit gets worse (or better?) from here.
Masterlist AO3 version
“I have something for you.”
You turn your head toward the door as he slides it open. You can’t see much of him, your mind still hazy from the pain meds he’s keeping you on. You’re numb and your grip on reality is slipping through your fingers by the second.
You try your best to blink away the mist in your eyes and suddenly he’s kneeling before you with something in his hands.
Feeling the brush of warm fingers on your cheekbone, you close your eyes again. Your mind silences entirely at his touch and you can’t put into words how much you’ve wanted that for so long.
He pulls away and you sluggishly blink your eyes back open as he sets something on the floor just in your line of sight. The sound is distant, and so is his voice,
“When you’re ready, sweetheart.”
Confusion blankets the fog in your mind and it must show on your face as he runs his thumb over the crease between your eyebrows.
—
He’s be lying to himself if he said he didn’t feel any regret. Wouldn’t be the first time he did that, though. All he wanted was your happiness, your love, your word - maybe he just wanted to be yours. And now… he knows you well enough to know you’re plotting his murder in the back of your mind.
It races through his head a mile a minute as he unwraps the old bandages around your abdomen, being gentle even though he knows you can’t feel a thing.
The silence unsettles him, you used to be so... loud isn’t the right word, but you had life. And it was always, always, always so contagious that it hurt. Women, men, and children alike would smile at you on the streets. You could light up a room no matter how dark, and that extended to even the darkest of people.
People like him.
Maybe that’s how you got married.
His knee nudges the small cardboard box he placed beside you and smiles at the reminder of tomorrow as he swipes a cold gel over your burning skin. He re-wraps the bandages and presses a kiss over the fresh, white fabric.
Pulling back, he looks into your almost lifeless eyes. He can practically see the gears turning in your head as you try to make sense of everything and fail miserably under the haze of drugs.
Steve realises he may have upped your dosage a little too much. Clicking his fingers in front of your face, you give a small blink before your empty irises focus in his direction. Pupils contracted, whites glazed over and shimmering.
Even now, you’re the most beautiful thing he’s seen.
In this state, you would let him do anything to you, and the chances of you remembering any of it are very low…
His phone goes off.
It’s red. Not bright red, more like the crimson of drying blood. Holding one hand over your stomach, you reach out with the other to feel the delicate fabric brush against your trembling fingers.
“Do you like it?”
You look up at where he’s standing near the door, before pushing off the wall and coming to crouch down in front of you.
“I picked it out myself for you.”
You nod absently as you look back down at the red dress in the pink cardboard box. One question circles around in your mind and you finally let it out,
“Why?”
He blinks, not surprised by your remark and splits into one of his easy charming grins you’ve fallen for so many times.
“We, sweetheart, have somewhere important to be tomorrow night.”
You snap your head up toward him, then back down to the fancy dress.
Oh.
Oh.
He’s still talking, giving you details about some kind of fancy gala with cocktails, important clients, and potential buyers, but none of it actually registers in your mind. No, you see right through the illusion he’s painting for you.
You see the reality.
He wants to show off his fresh meat.
“Get some sleep, angel. Big day tomorrow.” His hands hold your face as he presses a lingering kiss to your cracked lips before tucking your hair behind your ears and walking out of the room.
-
He still thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s seen. Even like this.
Those sentences are the only things that run through his mind on his drive home that night. That and the vows he wrote for you once upon a time.
The house is empty when he gets home, after all, his wife hasn’t been here for a while and the children were never his. But he didn’t come here for a trip down memory lane. No, he’s here to grab a nice suit for tomorrow night. Something to pair nicely with your red dress.
After more time than he should have spent deciding between two different outfits, he settles on a black suit with a deep red tie. While packing up the mess he made of his wardrobe, he grabs a small makeup bag and dumps it’s contents out, replacing it with his wife’s makeup for you to wear tomorrow. He even goes so far as to pick out his wife’s favourite black nail polish.
All to play the part.
After placing the stuff neatly on the kitchen counter where he can remember to take it with him tomorrow, he pours himself a drink before getting ready for bed.
The sheets still smell like his wife, he realises as he puts the crystal liquor glass on the bedside table. Fuck.
It sends him into a spiral as he fidgets with his wedding ring. Taking it off, putting it back on. Taking it off. Putting it back on again.
No.
He picks up the glass and downs the drink in one go, feeling the burn as it numbs the his senses. He wouldn’t consider himself an alcoholic, however. But everyone just needs a little something to take the edge off a long day every now and again.
A few different somethings if you’re Brendan Kemp.
Pushing it all down, he picks up his phone to scroll through his list of buyers. “The one percent of the one percent,” he likes to call them. Re-reading the details of the invitation absentmindedly, he lets his mind drift to lingering touches and soft laughter.
How he wishes it could be like that again so soon.