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CE characters snippets
Birthday post for CE- Creampuffs
Stucky
-> Steve x Bucky
-> Steve Rogers
-> Andy Barber
-> Ransom Drysdale
-> Lloyd Hansen
-> Curtis Everett
-> Johnny Storm
-> Ari Levinson
-> Together Or Not At All
Life as a roommate can be tricky, especially when you are living with Steve Rogers, Johnny Storm, Jake Jensen and Nick Grant. You opted to be a therapist, but things didnāt turn out exactly as plannedā¦ (Steve Rogers x Reader, Johnny Storm x Reader, Jake Jensen x Reader, Nick Gant x Reader) A collaboration with @jamneuromain
-> Bucky Barnes
-> Lance Tucker
Mermaid AUs
Different auās below
-> my treasure Avengers as pirates
-> Drowning siren
The Avengers found an old abandoned HYDRA base, that had been cleared after HYDRAs existence had been exposed. At least they thought it was cleared.
CaptainAmerica!Steve Rogers x mermaid!reader
Boxer au
-> Broken bones and broken hearts [ collab with @jamneuromain ]
Boxer!Steve Rogers x Reader
There was only one rule between best friends. Donāt have sex. But what happens when you break it anyway?
Highschool au
-> āTeach Me How To Be Goodā
Student!Steve Rogers x tutor!reader
Tutor!reader helps Steve prepare for his math exams. Heās totally falling for her, but she doesnāt want him. Sheās older, a college student. 25.
And heās only a Highschool sweetheart turning 18.
Besides. Heās an inexperienced virgin.
And you? Oh you have a big secret heās not ready to find out.
Stripper Au
-> Itās all about theā¦
Stripper Steve Rogers x Rich!reader
-> Better than boys
Boyfriends Dad Andy Barber x Reader
Demon Au
-> Highway to hell
Corrupting peopleās thoughts. Itās easy, in a very simple way: sexual pleasure. Turns out no man can resist such a beauty like you.
[ one shots collection with; Demon reader x Cousin!Jake, x Cop!Lloyd, x bartender!Ari, x uncle!Curtis, x Stepdad!Andy, x priest!Steve
Requests are open! -> Chris E and Sebastian S characters
Feedback and reblogging is highly appreciated ā¤ļø
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Steve hadnāt meant to remember him.
That was the worst part.
Nine months had passed since that night. Nine months since soft hands and bright eyes and a voice that had said his name like it meant something. Steve had told himself-repeatedly-that it was just another mistake. Another body. Another moment of weakness he would bury under routine and responsibility and guilt.
But Bucky had stayed.
Not in any dramatic way. Not as a constant ache or a loud regret. He lingered in the spaces between things. In the quiet after the kids went to bed. In the way Steve paused a fraction too long before closing his phone at night. In the way every man he met after wasā¦wrong.
He still went out. Still let himself be seen, still let hands brush his, still allowed flirtation. He told himself that meant nothing had changed.
But he never brought anyone home.
Not once.
Every time it got close-when a laugh was a little too forced, when a kiss tasted unfamiliar, when fingers felt eager instead of tentative-Steveās mind betrayed him. Heād think of Buckyās smile, uncertain but hopeful. Of the way heād bitten his lip when nervous. Of how careful heād been, like he didnāt quite trust that he was allowed to be wanted.
And Steve would pull away.
Too cocky, heād think. Too loud. Too annoying. Too tall. Too sure. Tooā¦not him.
It unsettled him more than he liked to admit. He had never compared before. Never cared enough to notice differences. People had been interchangeable, fleeting. Easy.
Bucky wasnāt.
That realization followed Steve everywhere, like a quiet accusation.
At home, things shifted in ways he couldnāt fully explain. Peggy noticed first-not with suspicion, not at first, but with confusion. Steve was there, physically. He helped with homework, sat through dinners, nodded at the right moments.
But he wasnāt present.
Sheād ask him questions and heād answer a second too late. Heād forget things-appointments, conversations theyād already had. Sometimes sheād catch him staring into nothing, jaw tight, like he was holding something back.
āYou okay?ā sheād ask, brow creasing.
āYeahā, heād say automatically. āJust tired.ā
It wasnāt a lie. But it wasnāt the truth either.
He stopped touching her the way he used to. Stopped initiating. When she reached for him, heād freeze for half a heartbeat before responding, like he had to remind himself how. Peggy noticed that too. She didnāt accuse. She didnāt demand. Their sex life hadnāt been the same in years.
At night, lying beside her, Steve would stare at the ceiling and wonder when it had happened-when the careful separation between need and connection had cracked. When one night had turned into something he couldnāt outrun. It was always just sex. Always a body to take and come back to reality as if it never had happened-he even managed to sleep with Peggy sometimes, touch her back, when she kissed himā¦but all that seemed impossible now.
He told himself Bucky had moved on. That someone like him wouldnāt stay stuck on a married man with too many complications and too much baggage. That Bucky was young, bright, probably in love by now. And that he hated him anyway.
He had survived his life perfectly fine until he didnāt.
now it was filled with Bucky. Even when he tried not to think about him-something always made him do it anyway.
God, I hope he didnāt end up with someone who hurts him.
The irony of it nearly made Steve laugh.
He pushed the thought away every time. Told himself it wasnāt his place. That heād already done enough damage. That caring now would be selfish.
But the worry lingered.
Like a bruise you keep pressing just to see if it still hurts.
And the worst realization of all-the one Steve never let himself say out loud-was this:
He didnāt miss the night.
He missed Bucky.
And that had never happened before.
āāāā-
The day started like any other.
That was the problem.
Steve woke before his alarm, staring at the ceiling while the house slept around him. The weight on his chest was familiar now-not panic, not dread. Just a low, constant pressure, like something unresolved pressing its thumb into his sternum.
He rolled out of bed carefully, as not to wake Peggy. She stirred anyway.
āYouāre up earlyā, she murmured.
āCouldnāt sleepā, he said, because it was easier than explaining that sleep had become a place where memories lived too loudly.
She watched him longer than necessary. Steve felt it on his back as he pulled on a shirt, the way her gaze lingered, searching for something she couldnāt name.
At breakfast, the kids were loud. Cereal spilled. Someone laughed too hard. Life moved on with brutal normalcy.
Peggy poured coffee and finally asked, casual but not careless, āAre you still going to the gym after work?ā
Steve hesitated just a fraction too long.
āI might go later,ā he said. āWork ran long yesterday. I didnāt finish everything.ā
She nodded, but her eyes didnāt leave his face. āYouāve been changing your schedule a lot.ā
It wasnāt an accusation. That almost made it worse.
āJust trying to fit things inā, he replied, keeping his tone even.
āSteveā, she said quietly, when the kids had left the table. āAre you happy?ā
The question landed between them like something fragile.
He looked at her-really looked. Peggy was still beautiful. Still sharp. Still trying. And the guilt that followed was dull and heavy, like a coat he couldnāt take off.
āI donāt knowā, he said honestly.
She inhaled, steadying herself. āThatās not an answer.ā
āItās the only one Iāve got.ā
She didnāt push. Peggy rarely did. Instead, she reached for her mug, hands tight around it, like she was anchoring herself to something solid.
āYouāre not here anymoreā, she said. āNot the way you used to be.ā
Steve swallowed. āIām trying.ā
āI know.ā A pause. āI just donāt know what youāre trying for.ā
Neither did he.
Work was a blur. Meetings, emails, conversations he answered on autopilot. His body moved through the motions while his mind drifted-unbidden-to blue eyes, to a too-soft smile, to the memory of someone who had looked at him like Steve was worth staying for. And he had fucked it up.
He hated himself for it.
By the time evening rolled around, the house felt too small. The walls pressed in. Peggy moved around him carefully, like she didnāt want to spook something fragile.
āIām going to the gymā, Steve said suddenly, grabbing his bag.
She looked up. āNow?ā
āYeah. Late one tonight.ā
āYou usually donāt-ā
āI need itā, he interrupted, sharper than intended.
Peggy flinched, just slightly.
Steve sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. āIām sorry. I just-need to clear my head.ā She studied him for a long moment, then nodded. āOkay.ā
Then she gently placed her hand against his arm. āSteve? Donāt forget, I was your friend first. Wife second. You can talk to meā¦ā
As he left, he felt her watching him again. Not angry. Not suspicious.
Just worried.
The drive was quiet. Streetlights streaked across the windshield, and Steveās thoughts circled places he didnāt want them to go. He told himself the gym was just the gym. A place to burn off excess energy. To feel something solid and controlled.
Still-he parked longer than usual, sitting in the car with the engine off, fingers tight around the steering wheel.
Something felt off.
He couldnāt name it. Couldnāt explain it. Just a strange, crawling sense under his skin, like the world was about to tilt. Steve grabbed his bag and stepped out into the night.
Then he walked straight into Buckys boyfriend. Tight smiles and quick questions-thatās all. That, and the feeling that this guy was no good. The same feeling he always got when he stood in front of a bully.
But he had to ignore his own feelings and go on. Maybe thatās why he had felt so tense all day? The universe knew heād come face to face with this ass.
He had no idea that this was just the beginning and that any moment everything would change.
āā
Steve was midway through his second set when it happened.
The gym was quiet in that late-night way-only a handful of people left, the hum of machines and the dull thud of weights hitting rubber mats. The air smelled like sweat and disinfectant. Familiar. Safe.
He was counting reps when the door opened.
Cold rushed in first.
A sharp bite of winter air, snow swirling briefly across the floor before the door shut again. Someone muttered in annoyance from across the room.
Steve glanced up automatically.
And froze.
For a split second, his brain refused to cooperate. The image didnāt make sense, didnāt belong here. A man standing just inside the entrance, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped tightly around himself like he was trying to keep his body from coming apart.
Bare feet on cold tile.
Pajama pants-thin, soft-looking fabric already darkened with melted snow. A damn shirt covering his upper body. Hair damp. Cheeks flushed red from cold. Lips slightly blue.
And those eyes.
Steveās grip slipped. The bar clanged loudly back onto the rack, the sound echoing through the room. He barely noticed.
Because it was Bucky.
Not a memory. Not a thought. Not a ghost.
Bucky Barnes was standing in his gym, shivering so hard his teeth were probably chattering, snow melting into small puddles around his feet.
For a heartbeat, Steve couldnāt move.
This wasnāt how heād imagined seeing him again-if heād ever allowed himself to imagine it at all. Not like this. Not broken into pieces by cold and fear, not looking like heād run straight out of a nightmare.
Bucky hesitated just inside the door, eyes darting around like he wasnāt sure he was allowed to be there. Like he expected someone to grab him and drag him back out into the night.
Then his gaze lifted.
They locked eyes.
Steve felt it hit him all at once-recognition, disbelief, something sharp and protective tearing through his chest so fast it stole his breath.
Bucky looked thinner. Paler. There was a bruise blooming dark along his cheekbone, half-hidden beneath damp hair. His hands were shaking openly now, fingers curled white-knuckled into fabric-or fur?
And he looked terrified.
Not startled.
Not embarrassed.
Terrified.
Steve was moving before he realized heād decided to.
He crossed the gym in long strides, heart hammering, every instinct screaming that something was wrong-so deeply wrong.
Before he realised he was holding his fragile frame in a tight embrace, being hissed and mewed at, but he didnāt really realise that.
He could feel how Bucky was melting into him, seeking for warmthā¦and maybe comfort. And heād give him everything he wanted. āBuckyā¦what-what happened?ā
Then he felt how Bucky started shaking his head violently. āI canātā¦I canāt go home. Brockā¦he-he hurt meā¦I donāt know what to doā¦I justā¦Iām sorry-I had no other options-heād knew if Iād go to Wanda-ā Wanda, his best friend. He remembered her from the night in the club. Probably from some of Buckys stories, too.
Steveās expression hardened at the thought of Brock. He shouldāve punched him as he walked out of the gym. āShit.ā He rubbed his hands over Buckys cold skin, nearly shivering himself. āYouāre safe hereā Steve said, low, firm. Hiding his own broken heart. āYouāre safe.ā And heād make sure of that.
He placed his chin onto Buckys damp hair, listening. āI-I didnāt know where else to goā¦I couldnātā¦I didnāt have-ā
āYou didnāt have toā, Steve interrupted gently. āYou donāt have to do anything except get out of that apartment.ā He felt Bucky nod. āIā¦I didnāt even have my phoneā¦ā Steveās jaw tightened. āDoesnāt matter. Doesnāt matter. Youāre here now.ā
Buckyās teeth chattered violently. āHeā¦Brockā¦heā¦he saidā¦ā His voice broke. āā¦heādā¦ heādā¦ā Steveās hand pressed to his back, steadying him. āShh. Itās okay. You donāt have to say it. Not yet. Justā¦breatheā¦.Weāll figure this out. Weāll make sure he doesnāt hurt you again.ā Steve couldnāt believe it. Bucky came to him for help-he had no idea how he knew heād find him here, but he did. And god help him, if he sees Brock ever again heād make sure heād regret hurting Bucky. āIā¦I didnāt know ifā¦I couldā¦leaveā¦ā Buckys voice was quite.
āYou didā Steve said firmly, brushing snow from his hair. āYou left. And you came here. That was smart. That was brave. I appreciate that, Swee-Bucky.ā Jesus. He nearly called him sweetheart. This would be-so, so wrong. But it was justā¦it was so easy. Bucky was his sweetheart. His sweet, pretty boy, that he had missed so much.
Steveās voice was quiet but steady. āYouāre not alone, Bucky. Not tonight. Not ever if I can help it.
Bucky swallowed. His shoulders rose and fell in a shaky breath. āI-Iām sorryā he said again, words tumbling over each other. āI know this is probably weird, I just-I didnāt know where else to go.ā āItās okay, donāt apologise. Iām glad you came to me.ā
Steveās eyes dropped again, helplessly, to Buckyās bare feet-red, numb, already starting to bruise from the cold.
āYouāre freezingā, Steve said, stupidly, because his brain was still catching up to his heart.
Bucky nodded like that fact had only just occurred to him. āYeah. I-couldnāt-ā His voice cracked, sharp and sudden. He stopped, jaw tightening as if he was physically forcing the sound back down. āCome on, I have a hoodie in my bag. If you want.ā
Bucky hesitated for half a second-just long enough for Steve to recognize it.
Fear of being told no.
Fear of being a burden.
Fear of being sent away.
Then Bucky took a step forward.
And promptly swayed.
Steve caught him instantly, hands gripping his arms, steadying him before he could hit the floor. Bucky gasped softly at the contact, fingers curling reflexively into Steveās shirt like he was clinging to a lifeline.
It was then Steve noticed the small white blur tucked against Buckyās chest.
A cat.
Wide-eyed. Fluffed. Hissing low and angry.
Alpine.
āOhā Steve breathed. āYou brought her.ā
Bucky nodded again, too fast, holding Alpine tighter, as if he was scared of Steve taking her away. āI couldnāt leave her.ā
Something inside Steve broke at that.
He tightened his hold just enough to keep Bucky upright. āOkayā, he said quietly. āOkay. Youāre safe with me. Both of you.ā
Buckyās eyes filled instantly, lashes clumping with wetness that had nothing to do with the cold.
āYou promise?ā
Steve didnāt hesitate.
āI promise.ā
And for the first time in nine months, Steve knew-with absolute, terrifying clarity-that this was no longer something he could walk away from.
He had never stopped caring.
And maybe-God help him-he never had a choice.
He needed to help him now. Put himself aside. He had done enough damage before-now it was time for Bucky toā¦heal. And maybe, just maybe, forgive him.
Steve didnāt let go of him again.
Not when he grabbed his jacket from the locker room and wrapped it around Buckyās shoulders. Not when he shoved his own sneakers into Buckyās trembling hands and crouched in front of him to help force numb feet inside. They were a bit too big, but better than nothing. He stayed in his gym clothes and shoes, maybe not perfect for the cold weather, but he didnāt care.
People stared.
Steve didnāt care either.
He kept one arm firmly around Buckyās back as they stepped out into the night, snow biting harder now, thick flakes spiraling down under the streetlights. Steve shielded him with his body automatically, steering him toward the parking lot.
Only once Bucky was buckled into the passenger seat-heater blasting, Alpine tucked safely into his lap-did the reality hit.
He couldnāt take him home.
The thought landed like a punch to the gut.
Peggy would be awake. Or pretending to be. She always was when Steve came home late now. Too observant. Too careful. Watching him the way someone watches a crack in a wall, waiting to see if it spreads.
And how would he explain this?
A half-frozen man in pajamas. Bruised. Shaking. Holding a cat like it was the only thing tethering him to the world.
The man Steve had never stopped thinking about.
Steve closed his eyes briefly, fingers tightening on the steering wheel.
āI canāt take you to my placeā, he said quietly, hating himself for how small it sounded. āBut-Iām not leaving you alone. I swear.ā
Bucky nodded immediately, too quickly. Like heād expected that answer. Like heād already prepared himself to accept less. āThatās okayā he whispered. āI donāt need-much. I just neededā¦someone.ā
That nearly destroyed him.
Steve pulled out of the lot and drove.
He didnāt ask questions. Not yet. Whatever had happened was still clinging to Bucky. So he focused on the road, on the glow of the dashboard, on the sound of Buckyās uneven breathing slowly evening out as warmth returned to his body.
A hotel near the gym. Clean. Quiet. Anonymous.
The kind of place Steve had stayed at a hundred times on ābusiness trips.ā
The irony tasted bitter.
He parked close to the entrance and was around the car in seconds, opening Buckyās door, guiding him inside with a hand at his elbow, gentle but unyielding. Bucky leaned into him without realizing it, weight sagging just slightly-trusting.
That terrified Steve more than anything else.
Inside, the lobby was dim, warm. The clerk barely glanced up. Steve paid in cash.
āTwo towelsā, he added, voice steady. āExtra blankets.ā
The elevator ride was silent.
Bucky stood close, shoulders brushing Steveās arm. Alpine peeked out from the hoodie Steve had given him, eyes sharp and alert. Buckyās fingers were still shaking.
When the door finally closed behind them, Steve locked it automatically, then turned.
Bucky lookedā¦small.
Standing there barefoot again, jacket too big, hoodie hanging off one shoulder, eyes rimmed red from cold and something deeper. There was a faint split at his lip Steve hadnāt noticed before.
āWhat happened?ā Steve asked softly.
Bucky flinched.
Not dramatically. Just enough.
Steveās jaw tightened.
āWe donāt have to talk about it right now,ā he said quickly. āI just-ā He gestured helplessly. āYouāre safe. You can shower if you want. Iāll-Iāll stay out here.ā
Bucky nodded, clutching Alpine tighter. āCan she come with me?ā And Steve looked at him confused.
āOf course. You donāt have to ask for permission.ā
The bathroom door closed.
Steve sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, hands shaking now that he didnāt have to be strong for anyone. His chest felt too tight, breath coming shallow.
Nine months.
Nine months of telling himself it had been just a night.
Nine months of not bringing anyone home.
Nine months of comparing every laugh, every touch, every mouth to Buckyās and finding them all lacking.
And now this.
A quiet sob reached him through the bathroom door.
Steve stood instantly, stopping himself just short of knocking.
āIām right hereā, he said instead, voice low but clear. āIām not going anywhere. Ifā¦if youād need anything.ā
The sob broke into something raw and soundless.Steve pressed his forehead against the door, eyes burning.
This wasnāt his fault.
But it was his responsibility now.
Whether he liked it or not.
And he wouldnāt leave Bucky again. Not this time.
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Thank you for reading ā¤ļø feedback and reblogging is highly appreciated ā¤ļø
Taglist? If yes, please be active by leaving feedback and reblogging and let me know!:) @ozeriterchick @guiltypleasureisfun @ayronren @gracescor3 @sunlightkent
A/N: I had a dream about being pregnant. It was weird. (Jesus Christ Tumblr just let me post this one shot, Iām so frustrated at this point)
Reblogs and feedback are appreciated!ā¤ļø
You donāt expect it to happen in the frozen foods aisle.
Youāre standing there, one hand pressed to the small of your back, the other gripping the edge of the freezer door like it might anchor you to the ground. The cold air spills out in a fog, brushing your face, but it doesnāt help.
Your breath catches anyway.
āOkayā, you whisper to yourself, voice tight. āOkay, itās fine. Itās just-ā
The baby shifts again.
Not a gentle flutter. Not the sweet, reassuring roll youāve grown used to over the past months. This is sharp, sudden, enough to knock the air from your lungs and send a spike of pressure down your spine.
You suck in a breath through your teeth.
Six and a half months. Thatās what your doctor said last week. Everythingās normal. Everythingās healthy.
So why does it feel like your body is folding in on itself?
You try to straighten, but the world tilts slightly, fluorescent lights blurring into streaks. Your grip tightens on the freezer door.
Donāt pass out. Not here. Not-
āHey.ā
The voice is calm. Low. Close.
You blink, trying to focus, and suddenly thereās someone in front of you. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Close enough that you can see the concern etched into his face before anything else registers.
āAre you okay?ā he asks.
You open your mouth. Close it again. āI-yeah, I just-ā
Another shift. Another wave.
Your hand flies instinctively to your stomach.
His eyes drop there, and something in his expression changes-not panic, not exactly, but something sharper. More alert.
āAlrightā he says gently, already moving. āLetās sit you down.ā
āIām fineā you insist weakly, even as your knees threaten to prove you a liar. You didnāt even notice how his hands were already there if needed to steady you, his reflexes quick.
āYeahā he says, not arguing, just steady. āWeāll just sit anyway.ā
Thereās no rush, no grabbing. Just a firm, careful presence at your side as he guides you away from the freezer and to the bench outside, groceries for now forgotten. You donāt even remember agreeing, but suddenly youāre sitting, your breath uneven, your hand still pressed protectively over your stomach.
He crouches slightly in front of you, not too close, but close enough that you donāt feel like youāre about to tip forward into nothing.
āBetter?ā he asks.
You nod, though itās only half true. āI think so. Justā¦dizzy.ā
āHave you eaten?ā
You hesitate. Fuck. Have you? Not enough.
āā¦Not really.ā
His mouth presses into a thin line-not judgmental, just concerned. Maybe a bit scolding, but he was hiding it well. āOkay. Stay here.ā
āIām okay, really, you donāt have to-ā
But heās already standing. āIāll be right backā, he says, like itās a promise, not a suggestion. Like it was normal to help a pregnant woman-what if you had a husband here? But you hadnāt, and it was quite nice being helped,
You stare at the floor, trying to steady your breathing.
This is stupid. Embarrassing. You shouldāve eaten more than a piece of toast this morning. You shouldāve-The baby shifts again, softer this time. A slow roll beneath your palm.
You exhale shakily.
āYeah,ā you murmur under your breath. āI know. I know.ā
Footsteps return.
You look up to find him again, holding a bottle of water and-of all things-a banana. It made you huff amused.
āI didnāt know what youād preferā he says, a little awkward now, like heās suddenly aware he might be overstepping. āBut this isā¦easy, usually. And healthyā
Your throat tightens unexpectedly, even though there was a small amused grin on your lips. āNo, thatās-thank youā, your voice broke a little. Stupid hormones.
You take the water first, unscrewing it with slightly trembling hands and taking a careful sip. Then another. The coolness helps, grounding you.
He watches, but not in a way that feels invasive. Justā¦present. Concerned.
āIām Steve, by the wayā, he says after a moment.
You glance up at him again. Really look at him this time. He wasā¦pretty. Handsome, but in a soft way. His eyes looked so soft, inviting. Like you actually mattered.
Steve.
Thereās something familiar about him, something you canāt quite place, but your brain feels too foggy to chase it.
āY/Nā, you reply quietly.
āNice to meet you, Y/N.ā
You huff a small, breathless laugh. āUnder very glamorous circumstances.ā
A faint smile touches his mouth. āIāve had worse introductions.ā
Thereās a pause.
You peel the banana slowly, taking a bite more because you know you should than because youāre hungry. Still, it helps. You can feel your body starting to settle, the dizziness easing just a little.
āDo you have someone with you?ā he asks carefully.
The question lands heavier than it should.
You shake your head.
āNo. Just me.ā
Something flickers in his expression again. Not pity. Never pity. Justā¦concern. Maybe a hint of something protective.
He nods once. āOkay.ā
No follow-up questions. No pressure.
And for some reason, that almost makes it harder. Especially when you both decided it was time to part ways again. You watched him go back to the store, knowing you needed to finish your groceries yourself. A sigh left your lips.
A few minutes more passed before you decided you felt good enough to go back to your task. Bananas, apples, berries, spinach, broccoli, carrots, sweet potatoes, oats, brown rice, whole wheat bread, milk, yogurt, eggs, chicken, fish (low mercury), beans, almonds, avocado, olive oil, water, crackers, peanut butter, chocolate, ice creamā¦
At this point it felt like you were unloading half of the grocery store onto the cash register.
āYou shouldnāt be carrying all that.ā
You glance over your shoulder, startled.
Steve again.
Of course itās Steve again.
Youād managed to finish your shopping-slowly, carefully, leaning on the cart more than youād like to admit-and now youāre halfway to the exit, juggling two heavy bags and your own stubborn independence.
āIāve got itā you say automatically.
He raises an eyebrow.
You hesitate.
āā¦Okay, maybe I donāt. But Iām fine. Iāll walk twice.ā
That earns a small, soft laugh from him, and before you can protest further, he takes the heavier bag from your hand like it weighs nothing.
āCar?ā he asks, once again, as it was completely normal.
You cleared your throat. āYeah. Outside.ā
He falls into step beside you like itās the most natural thing in the world.
For a moment, neither of you speaks.
Then-
āHow far along?ā he asks gently.
āTwenty-eight weeksā, you reply, one hand drifting unconsciously to your stomach again.
āEverything going okay? Aside fromā¦today.ā
You nod. āYeah. Doctor says everythingās good. I just-ā you huff lightly ā-forget that Iām not invincible anymore.ā
His gaze flicks to you, something almost amused in it. āHappens to the best of us.āYou snort softly. āDoubt that.ā
He doesnāt answer that.
Outside, the air is cooler. Fresh.
He helps you load the groceries into your trunk, careful and efficient.
You hover nearby, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. With yourself.
āThis is meā you say unnecessarily.
He nods, closing the trunk gently.
Thereās a pause.
āThank youā you add, quieter now. āForā¦everything. You didnāt have to.ā
āI knowā he says simply. āBut it was my pleasure.ā
That shouldnāt mean anything.
But it does.
You meet his eyes, and for a second, something settles between you-something warm, steady, unfamiliar.
āTake care of yourself, okay?ā he says.
You nod. āYou too.ā Your voice nearly broke. He was so kind.
He steps back. And you felt like screaming-but he was just a stranger.
You get into the car.
And for some reason, as you pull out of the parking lot, you glance in the rearview mirror-just one last look.
A/N: I had a dream about being pregnant. It was weird. (Jesus Christ Tumblr just let me post this one shot, Iām so frustrated at this point)
Reblogs and feedback are appreciated!ā¤ļø
You donāt expect it to happen in the frozen foods aisle.
Youāre standing there, one hand pressed to the small of your back, the other gripping the edge of the freezer door like it might anchor you to the ground. The cold air spills out in a fog, brushing your face, but it doesnāt help.
Your breath catches anyway.
āOkayā, you whisper to yourself, voice tight. āOkay, itās fine. Itās just-ā
The baby shifts again.
Not a gentle flutter. Not the sweet, reassuring roll youāve grown used to over the past months. This is sharp, sudden, enough to knock the air from your lungs and send a spike of pressure down your spine.
You suck in a breath through your teeth.
Six and a half months. Thatās what your doctor said last week. Everythingās normal. Everythingās healthy.
So why does it feel like your body is folding in on itself?
You try to straighten, but the world tilts slightly, fluorescent lights blurring into streaks. Your grip tightens on the freezer door.
Donāt pass out. Not here. Not-
āHey.ā
The voice is calm. Low. Close.
You blink, trying to focus, and suddenly thereās someone in front of you. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Close enough that you can see the concern etched into his face before anything else registers.
āAre you okay?ā he asks.
You open your mouth. Close it again. āI-yeah, I just-ā
Another shift. Another wave.
Your hand flies instinctively to your stomach.
His eyes drop there, and something in his expression changes-not panic, not exactly, but something sharper. More alert.
āAlrightā he says gently, already moving. āLetās sit you down.ā
āIām fineā you insist weakly, even as your knees threaten to prove you a liar. You didnāt even notice how his hands were already there if needed to steady you, his reflexes quick.
āYeahā he says, not arguing, just steady. āWeāll just sit anyway.ā
Thereās no rush, no grabbing. Just a firm, careful presence at your side as he guides you away from the freezer and to the bench outside, groceries for now forgotten. You donāt even remember agreeing, but suddenly youāre sitting, your breath uneven, your hand still pressed protectively over your stomach.
He crouches slightly in front of you, not too close, but close enough that you donāt feel like youāre about to tip forward into nothing.
āBetter?ā he asks.
You nod, though itās only half true. āI think so. Justā¦dizzy.ā
āHave you eaten?ā
You hesitate. Fuck. Have you? Not enough.
āā¦Not really.ā
His mouth presses into a thin line-not judgmental, just concerned. Maybe a bit scolding, but he was hiding it well. āOkay. Stay here.ā
āIām okay, really, you donāt have to-ā
But heās already standing. āIāll be right backā, he says, like itās a promise, not a suggestion. Like it was normal to help a pregnant woman-what if you had a husband here? But you hadnāt, and it was quite nice being helped,
You stare at the floor, trying to steady your breathing.
This is stupid. Embarrassing. You shouldāve eaten more than a piece of toast this morning. You shouldāve-The baby shifts again, softer this time. A slow roll beneath your palm.
You exhale shakily.
āYeah,ā you murmur under your breath. āI know. I know.ā
Footsteps return.
You look up to find him again, holding a bottle of water and-of all things-a banana. It made you huff amused.
āI didnāt know what youād preferā he says, a little awkward now, like heās suddenly aware he might be overstepping. āBut this isā¦easy, usually. And healthyā
Your throat tightens unexpectedly, even though there was a small amused grin on your lips. āNo, thatās-thank youā, your voice broke a little. Stupid hormones.
You take the water first, unscrewing it with slightly trembling hands and taking a careful sip. Then another. The coolness helps, grounding you.
He watches, but not in a way that feels invasive. Justā¦present. Concerned.
āIām Steve, by the wayā, he says after a moment.
You glance up at him again. Really look at him this time. He wasā¦pretty. Handsome, but in a soft way. His eyes looked so soft, inviting. Like you actually mattered.
Steve.
Thereās something familiar about him, something you canāt quite place, but your brain feels too foggy to chase it.
āY/Nā, you reply quietly.
āNice to meet you, Y/N.ā
You huff a small, breathless laugh. āUnder very glamorous circumstances.ā
A faint smile touches his mouth. āIāve had worse introductions.ā
Thereās a pause.
You peel the banana slowly, taking a bite more because you know you should than because youāre hungry. Still, it helps. You can feel your body starting to settle, the dizziness easing just a little.
āDo you have someone with you?ā he asks carefully.
The question lands heavier than it should.
You shake your head.
āNo. Just me.ā
Something flickers in his expression again. Not pity. Never pity. Justā¦concern. Maybe a hint of something protective.
He nods once. āOkay.ā
No follow-up questions. No pressure.
And for some reason, that almost makes it harder. Especially when you both decided it was time to part ways again. You watched him go back to the store, knowing you needed to finish your groceries yourself. A sigh left your lips.
A few minutes more passed before you decided you felt good enough to go back to your task. Bananas, apples, berries, spinach, broccoli, carrots, sweet potatoes, oats, brown rice, whole wheat bread, milk, yogurt, eggs, chicken, fish (low mercury), beans, almonds, avocado, olive oil, water, crackers, peanut butter, chocolate, ice creamā¦
At this point it felt like you were unloading half of the grocery store onto the cash register.
āYou shouldnāt be carrying all that.ā
You glance over your shoulder, startled.
Steve again.
Of course itās Steve again.
Youād managed to finish your shopping-slowly, carefully, leaning on the cart more than youād like to admit-and now youāre halfway to the exit, juggling two heavy bags and your own stubborn independence.
āIāve got itā you say automatically.
He raises an eyebrow.
You hesitate.
āā¦Okay, maybe I donāt. But Iām fine. Iāll walk twice.ā
That earns a small, soft laugh from him, and before you can protest further, he takes the heavier bag from your hand like it weighs nothing.
āCar?ā he asks, once again, as it was completely normal.
You cleared your throat. āYeah. Outside.ā
He falls into step beside you like itās the most natural thing in the world.
For a moment, neither of you speaks.
Then-
āHow far along?ā he asks gently.
āTwenty-eight weeksā, you reply, one hand drifting unconsciously to your stomach again.
āEverything going okay? Aside fromā¦today.ā
You nod. āYeah. Doctor says everythingās good. I just-ā you huff lightly ā-forget that Iām not invincible anymore.ā
His gaze flicks to you, something almost amused in it. āHappens to the best of us.āYou snort softly. āDoubt that.ā
He doesnāt answer that.
Outside, the air is cooler. Fresh.
He helps you load the groceries into your trunk, careful and efficient.
You hover nearby, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. With yourself.
āThis is meā you say unnecessarily.
He nods, closing the trunk gently.
Thereās a pause.
āThank youā you add, quieter now. āForā¦everything. You didnāt have to.ā
āI knowā he says simply. āBut it was my pleasure.ā
That shouldnāt mean anything.
But it does.
You meet his eyes, and for a second, something settles between you-something warm, steady, unfamiliar.
āTake care of yourself, okay?ā he says.
You nod. āYou too.ā Your voice nearly broke. He was so kind.
He steps back. And you felt like screaming-but he was just a stranger.
You get into the car.
And for some reason, as you pull out of the parking lot, you glance in the rearview mirror-just one last look.
A/N: I had a dream about being pregnant. It was weird. (Jesus Christ Tumblr just let me post this one shot, Iām so frustrated at this point)
Reblogs and feedback are appreciated!ā¤ļø
You donāt expect it to happen in the frozen foods aisle.
Youāre standing there, one hand pressed to the small of your back, the other gripping the edge of the freezer door like it might anchor you to the ground. The cold air spills out in a fog, brushing your face, but it doesnāt help.
Your breath catches anyway.
āOkayā, you whisper to yourself, voice tight. āOkay, itās fine. Itās just-ā
The baby shifts again.
Not a gentle flutter. Not the sweet, reassuring roll youāve grown used to over the past months. This is sharp, sudden, enough to knock the air from your lungs and send a spike of pressure down your spine.
You suck in a breath through your teeth.
Six and a half months. Thatās what your doctor said last week. Everythingās normal. Everythingās healthy.
So why does it feel like your body is folding in on itself?
You try to straighten, but the world tilts slightly, fluorescent lights blurring into streaks. Your grip tightens on the freezer door.
Donāt pass out. Not here. Not-
āHey.ā
The voice is calm. Low. Close.
You blink, trying to focus, and suddenly thereās someone in front of you. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Close enough that you can see the concern etched into his face before anything else registers.
āAre you okay?ā he asks.
You open your mouth. Close it again. āI-yeah, I just-ā
Another shift. Another wave.
Your hand flies instinctively to your stomach.
His eyes drop there, and something in his expression changes-not panic, not exactly, but something sharper. More alert.
āAlrightā he says gently, already moving. āLetās sit you down.ā
āIām fineā you insist weakly, even as your knees threaten to prove you a liar. You didnāt even notice how his hands were already there if needed to steady you, his reflexes quick.
āYeahā he says, not arguing, just steady. āWeāll just sit anyway.ā
Thereās no rush, no grabbing. Just a firm, careful presence at your side as he guides you away from the freezer and to the bench outside, groceries for now forgotten. You donāt even remember agreeing, but suddenly youāre sitting, your breath uneven, your hand still pressed protectively over your stomach.
He crouches slightly in front of you, not too close, but close enough that you donāt feel like youāre about to tip forward into nothing.
āBetter?ā he asks.
You nod, though itās only half true. āI think so. Justā¦dizzy.ā
āHave you eaten?ā
You hesitate. Fuck. Have you? Not enough.
āā¦Not really.ā
His mouth presses into a thin line-not judgmental, just concerned. Maybe a bit scolding, but he was hiding it well. āOkay. Stay here.ā
āIām okay, really, you donāt have to-ā
But heās already standing. āIāll be right backā, he says, like itās a promise, not a suggestion. Like it was normal to help a pregnant woman-what if you had a husband here? But you hadnāt, and it was quite nice being helped,
You stare at the floor, trying to steady your breathing.
This is stupid. Embarrassing. You shouldāve eaten more than a piece of toast this morning. You shouldāve-The baby shifts again, softer this time. A slow roll beneath your palm.
You exhale shakily.
āYeah,ā you murmur under your breath. āI know. I know.ā
Footsteps return.
You look up to find him again, holding a bottle of water and-of all things-a banana. It made you huff amused.
āI didnāt know what youād preferā he says, a little awkward now, like heās suddenly aware he might be overstepping. āBut this isā¦easy, usually. And healthyā
Your throat tightens unexpectedly, even though there was a small amused grin on your lips. āNo, thatās-thank youā, your voice broke a little. Stupid hormones.
You take the water first, unscrewing it with slightly trembling hands and taking a careful sip. Then another. The coolness helps, grounding you.
He watches, but not in a way that feels invasive. Justā¦present. Concerned.
āIām Steve, by the wayā, he says after a moment.
You glance up at him again. Really look at him this time. He wasā¦pretty. Handsome, but in a soft way. His eyes looked so soft, inviting. Like you actually mattered.
Steve.
Thereās something familiar about him, something you canāt quite place, but your brain feels too foggy to chase it.
āY/Nā, you reply quietly.
āNice to meet you, Y/N.ā
You huff a small, breathless laugh. āUnder very glamorous circumstances.ā
A faint smile touches his mouth. āIāve had worse introductions.ā
Thereās a pause.
You peel the banana slowly, taking a bite more because you know you should than because youāre hungry. Still, it helps. You can feel your body starting to settle, the dizziness easing just a little.
āDo you have someone with you?ā he asks carefully.
The question lands heavier than it should.
You shake your head.
āNo. Just me.ā
Something flickers in his expression again. Not pity. Never pity. Justā¦concern. Maybe a hint of something protective.
He nods once. āOkay.ā
No follow-up questions. No pressure.
And for some reason, that almost makes it harder. Especially when you both decided it was time to part ways again. You watched him go back to the store, knowing you needed to finish your groceries yourself. A sigh left your lips.
A few minutes more passed before you decided you felt good enough to go back to your task. Bananas, apples, berries, spinach, broccoli, carrots, sweet potatoes, oats, brown rice, whole wheat bread, milk, yogurt, eggs, chicken, fish (low mercury), beans, almonds, avocado, olive oil, water, crackers, peanut butter, chocolate, ice creamā¦
At this point it felt like you were unloading half of the grocery store onto the cash register.
āYou shouldnāt be carrying all that.ā
You glance over your shoulder, startled.
Steve again.
Of course itās Steve again.
Youād managed to finish your shopping-slowly, carefully, leaning on the cart more than youād like to admit-and now youāre halfway to the exit, juggling two heavy bags and your own stubborn independence.
āIāve got itā you say automatically.
He raises an eyebrow.
You hesitate.
āā¦Okay, maybe I donāt. But Iām fine. Iāll walk twice.ā
That earns a small, soft laugh from him, and before you can protest further, he takes the heavier bag from your hand like it weighs nothing.
āCar?ā he asks, once again, as it was completely normal.
You cleared your throat. āYeah. Outside.ā
He falls into step beside you like itās the most natural thing in the world.
For a moment, neither of you speaks.
Then-
āHow far along?ā he asks gently.
āTwenty-eight weeksā, you reply, one hand drifting unconsciously to your stomach again.
āEverything going okay? Aside fromā¦today.ā
You nod. āYeah. Doctor says everythingās good. I just-ā you huff lightly ā-forget that Iām not invincible anymore.ā
His gaze flicks to you, something almost amused in it. āHappens to the best of us.āYou snort softly. āDoubt that.ā
He doesnāt answer that.
Outside, the air is cooler. Fresh.
He helps you load the groceries into your trunk, careful and efficient.
You hover nearby, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. With yourself.
āThis is meā you say unnecessarily.
He nods, closing the trunk gently.
Thereās a pause.
āThank youā you add, quieter now. āForā¦everything. You didnāt have to.ā
āI knowā he says simply. āBut it was my pleasure.ā
That shouldnāt mean anything.
But it does.
You meet his eyes, and for a second, something settles between you-something warm, steady, unfamiliar.
āTake care of yourself, okay?ā he says.
You nod. āYou too.ā Your voice nearly broke. He was so kind.
He steps back. And you felt like screaming-but he was just a stranger.
You get into the car.
And for some reason, as you pull out of the parking lot, you glance in the rearview mirror-just one last look.
A/N: I had a dream about being pregnant. It was weird. (Jesus Christ Tumblr just let me post this one shot, Iām so frustrated at this point)
Reblogs and feedback are appreciated!ā¤ļø
You donāt expect it to happen in the frozen foods aisle.
Youāre standing there, one hand pressed to the small of your back, the other gripping the edge of the freezer door like it might anchor you to the ground. The cold air spills out in a fog, brushing your face, but it doesnāt help.
Your breath catches anyway.
āOkayā, you whisper to yourself, voice tight. āOkay, itās fine. Itās just-ā
The baby shifts again.
Not a gentle flutter. Not the sweet, reassuring roll youāve grown used to over the past months. This is sharp, sudden, enough to knock the air from your lungs and send a spike of pressure down your spine.
You suck in a breath through your teeth.
Six and a half months. Thatās what your doctor said last week. Everythingās normal. Everythingās healthy.
So why does it feel like your body is folding in on itself?
You try to straighten, but the world tilts slightly, fluorescent lights blurring into streaks. Your grip tightens on the freezer door.
Donāt pass out. Not here. Not-
āHey.ā
The voice is calm. Low. Close.
You blink, trying to focus, and suddenly thereās someone in front of you. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Close enough that you can see the concern etched into his face before anything else registers.
āAre you okay?ā he asks.
You open your mouth. Close it again. āI-yeah, I just-ā
Another shift. Another wave.
Your hand flies instinctively to your stomach.
His eyes drop there, and something in his expression changes-not panic, not exactly, but something sharper. More alert.
āAlrightā he says gently, already moving. āLetās sit you down.ā
āIām fineā you insist weakly, even as your knees threaten to prove you a liar. You didnāt even notice how his hands were already there if needed to steady you, his reflexes quick.
āYeahā he says, not arguing, just steady. āWeāll just sit anyway.ā
Thereās no rush, no grabbing. Just a firm, careful presence at your side as he guides you away from the freezer and to the bench outside, groceries for now forgotten. You donāt even remember agreeing, but suddenly youāre sitting, your breath uneven, your hand still pressed protectively over your stomach.
He crouches slightly in front of you, not too close, but close enough that you donāt feel like youāre about to tip forward into nothing.
āBetter?ā he asks.
You nod, though itās only half true. āI think so. Justā¦dizzy.ā
āHave you eaten?ā
You hesitate. Fuck. Have you? Not enough.
āā¦Not really.ā
His mouth presses into a thin line-not judgmental, just concerned. Maybe a bit scolding, but he was hiding it well. āOkay. Stay here.ā
āIām okay, really, you donāt have to-ā
But heās already standing. āIāll be right backā, he says, like itās a promise, not a suggestion. Like it was normal to help a pregnant woman-what if you had a husband here? But you hadnāt, and it was quite nice being helped,
You stare at the floor, trying to steady your breathing.
This is stupid. Embarrassing. You shouldāve eaten more than a piece of toast this morning. You shouldāve-The baby shifts again, softer this time. A slow roll beneath your palm.
You exhale shakily.
āYeah,ā you murmur under your breath. āI know. I know.ā
Footsteps return.
You look up to find him again, holding a bottle of water and-of all things-a banana. It made you huff amused.
āI didnāt know what youād preferā he says, a little awkward now, like heās suddenly aware he might be overstepping. āBut this isā¦easy, usually. And healthyā
Your throat tightens unexpectedly, even though there was a small amused grin on your lips. āNo, thatās-thank youā, your voice broke a little. Stupid hormones.
You take the water first, unscrewing it with slightly trembling hands and taking a careful sip. Then another. The coolness helps, grounding you.
He watches, but not in a way that feels invasive. Justā¦present. Concerned.
āIām Steve, by the wayā, he says after a moment.
You glance up at him again. Really look at him this time. He wasā¦pretty. Handsome, but in a soft way. His eyes looked so soft, inviting. Like you actually mattered.
Steve.
Thereās something familiar about him, something you canāt quite place, but your brain feels too foggy to chase it.
āY/Nā, you reply quietly.
āNice to meet you, Y/N.ā
You huff a small, breathless laugh. āUnder very glamorous circumstances.ā
A faint smile touches his mouth. āIāve had worse introductions.ā
Thereās a pause.
You peel the banana slowly, taking a bite more because you know you should than because youāre hungry. Still, it helps. You can feel your body starting to settle, the dizziness easing just a little.
āDo you have someone with you?ā he asks carefully.
The question lands heavier than it should.
You shake your head.
āNo. Just me.ā
Something flickers in his expression again. Not pity. Never pity. Justā¦concern. Maybe a hint of something protective.
He nods once. āOkay.ā
No follow-up questions. No pressure.
And for some reason, that almost makes it harder. Especially when you both decided it was time to part ways again. You watched him go back to the store, knowing you needed to finish your groceries yourself. A sigh left your lips.
A few minutes more passed before you decided you felt good enough to go back to your task. Bananas, apples, berries, spinach, broccoli, carrots, sweet potatoes, oats, brown rice, whole wheat bread, milk, yogurt, eggs, chicken, fish (low mercury), beans, almonds, avocado, olive oil, water, crackers, peanut butter, chocolate, ice creamā¦
At this point it felt like you were unloading half of the grocery store onto the cash register.
āYou shouldnāt be carrying all that.ā
You glance over your shoulder, startled.
Steve again.
Of course itās Steve again.
Youād managed to finish your shopping-slowly, carefully, leaning on the cart more than youād like to admit-and now youāre halfway to the exit, juggling two heavy bags and your own stubborn independence.
āIāve got itā you say automatically.
He raises an eyebrow.
You hesitate.
āā¦Okay, maybe I donāt. But Iām fine. Iāll walk twice.ā
That earns a small, soft laugh from him, and before you can protest further, he takes the heavier bag from your hand like it weighs nothing.
āCar?ā he asks, once again, as it was completely normal.
You cleared your throat. āYeah. Outside.ā
He falls into step beside you like itās the most natural thing in the world.
For a moment, neither of you speaks.
Then-
āHow far along?ā he asks gently.
āTwenty-eight weeksā, you reply, one hand drifting unconsciously to your stomach again.
āEverything going okay? Aside fromā¦today.ā
You nod. āYeah. Doctor says everythingās good. I just-ā you huff lightly ā-forget that Iām not invincible anymore.ā
His gaze flicks to you, something almost amused in it. āHappens to the best of us.āYou snort softly. āDoubt that.ā
He doesnāt answer that.
Outside, the air is cooler. Fresh.
He helps you load the groceries into your trunk, careful and efficient.
You hover nearby, suddenly unsure what to do with your hands. With yourself.
āThis is meā you say unnecessarily.
He nods, closing the trunk gently.
Thereās a pause.
āThank youā you add, quieter now. āForā¦everything. You didnāt have to.ā
āI knowā he says simply. āBut it was my pleasure.ā
That shouldnāt mean anything.
But it does.
You meet his eyes, and for a second, something settles between you-something warm, steady, unfamiliar.
āTake care of yourself, okay?ā he says.
You nod. āYou too.ā Your voice nearly broke. He was so kind.
He steps back. And you felt like screaming-but he was just a stranger.
You get into the car.
And for some reason, as you pull out of the parking lot, you glance in the rearview mirror-just one last look.
The Avengers found an old abandoned HYDRA base, that had been cleared after HYDRAs existence had been exposed. At least they thought it was cleared.
It was the biggest experimental lab they had ever seen, the closest base to the ocean, full with creatures-dead creatures. Some of them laid still on tables, stripped with metal cuffs, open and already rotting. It was an awful smell.
But then they heard something beautiful. A melody, a beautiful voice singing unbelievably gentle sounds.
Walking into the building full with ocean creatures, they had no idea their life was about to change.
-> Series
- Chapter 1 -
- Chapter 2 -
- Chapter 3 -
- Chapter 4 -
- Chapter 5 -
- Chapter 6 -
- Chapter 7 -
- Chapter 8 -
- Chapter 9 -
- Chapter 10 -
-> Drabbles
What if Mer found Steve on the Valkyrie
-> headcanons
[ my inbox is always open, feel free to send hc, questions or Drabble ideas ]
The Avengers found an old abandoned HYDRA base, that had been cleared after HYDRAs existence had been exposed. At least they thought it was cleared.
It was the biggest experimental lab they had ever seen, the closest base to the ocean, full with creatures-dead creatures. Some of them laid still on tables, stripped with metal cuffs, open and already rotting. It was an awful smell.
But then they heard something beautiful. A melody, a beautiful voice singing unbelievably gentle sounds.
Walking into the building full with ocean creatures, they had no idea their life was about to change.
-> Series
- Chapter 1 -
- Chapter 2 -
- Chapter 3 -
- Chapter 4 -
- Chapter 5 -
- Chapter 6 -
- Chapter 7 -
- Chapter 8 -
- Chapter 9 -
- Chapter 10 -
-> Drabbles
What if Mer found Steve on the Valkyrie
-> headcanons
[ my inbox is always open, feel free to send hc, questions or Drabble ideas ]
Warnings: domestic abuse, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, physical violence, coercive intimacy (non-graphic), controlling behavior, threats of self-harm (by abuser), trauma responses, toxic relationship dynamics, heavy angst, pet in danger (non-graphic).
Pairing: currently Brock Rumlow x Bucky Barnes,
(Technically Silver Fox Steve x College Bucky )
A/N: Another chapter š„° next Iāll update Drowning Sirenš¤
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated ā¤ļø
By the time winter settled in properly, Bucky had learned how to move quietly.
Not just physically-though that too, the careful way he closed doors, the way he set his keys down so they wouldnāt clink too loudly-but emotionally. He learned which parts of himself to tuck away. Which thoughts were safe. Which ones stayed locked behind his ribs, pressed flat and silent.
It had been two months since Alpine came back.
Two months since Brockās hands had first wrapped around his wrist and not let go.
Nine months since Steve.
Sometimes that number startled him. Nine months felt like a lifetime ago. Like a different person had lived that night in the club-someone brighter, louder, stupid enough to believe a beautiful stranger might want more than just his body.
That person felt embarrassing now.
Bucky woke before his alarm, like he always did.
Brockās arm was heavy across his stomach, pinning him in place. He lay still, staring at the ceiling, counting Brockās breaths. In. Out. Slow. Possessive. Even in sleep, Brock clung to him like an anchor. A wight.
Bucky waited.
Only when Brock shifted, mumbling something unintelligible, did Bucky carefully slide out from under his arm. He moved slowly, painfully aware of every sound. The floorboard near the dresser creaked if you stepped too hard. He stepped around it.
In the bathroom, he locked the door and leaned against it, exhaling shakily.
His reflection lookedā¦.fine. That was the worst part.
No black eyes. No broken bones. Just shadows under his eyes, a mouth that didnāt smile anymore unless prompted. A faint yellow bruise blooming on his upper arm, already fading. Brock had grabbed him there a few days ago-too hard, apparently. Brock had apologized afterward. Said he hadnāt meant to. Said Bucky startled him.
āYou know I donāt like when you sneak up on meā, Brock had said.
Bucky had nodded. Of course. His fault.
He brushed his teeth quietly, then paused, fingers gripping the sink.
This is my life, he thought distantly.
The thought didnāt feel dramatic. It feltā¦resigned.
Brock was in a good mood that morning.
That was always dangerous.
āYou didnāt wake meā, Brock said cheerfully as Bucky poured coffee. āSee? Youāre learning.ā
Buckyās stomach tightened. āI didnāt want to disturb you.ā
He came up behind Bucky, arms wrapping around his waist. Bucky stiffened instinctively, then forced himself to relax. Brock pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.
āRightā Brock said, somehow sounding approving of his own choiceā¦or maybe that Bucky started using it? āI knew it.ā
His hand slid lower, fingers squeezing just a little too tight. Bucky swallowed but didnāt react. Brock liked it when he didnāt react. When he accepted it. All of it.
āBig day?ā Brock asked casually. āIāve got classesā Bucky replied. āAnd then the library.ā
Brockās hand stilled. āThe library?ā he repeated.
āJust for a few hoursā, Bucky added quickly. āGroup project.ā Brock pulled back enough to look at him. His eyes flicked over Buckyās face, searching.
āWith who?ā Brock asked.
Bucky hesitated.
Just for half a second.
Brock noticed. Of course he noticed. āWhoā Brock repeated, voice sharpening.
āJustā¦people from classā Bucky said. āNo one you know.ā Brock laughed softly. āFunny. Everyone in your life used to be someone I didnāt know.ā
Bucky looked down. āIāll be home by eight.ā Brock sighed dramatically. āI donāt like when youāre out late. āI know.ā
āBut youāre going anywayā, Brock said, not quite accusing. Not quite calm. Justā¦.tense. āItās for school.ā
Brock leaned back against the counter, folding his arms. āYouāve been distant lately.ā
Buckyās heart skipped. āI have?ā
āYou donāt text as muchā, Brock continued. āYou donāt tell me things like you used to.ā āIām just busy.ā
āThatās what you said before-ā Brock replied. āBefore him to Wanda, too.ā
Bucky flinched. āSteve hasnāt been in my life for months. And it was just once-and- And we werenāt a couple back then, so what are you even talking about-?ā
āAnd yetā Brock said lightly, āyou still shut down whenever I mention him.ā
āBecause you bring him up like itās my faultā, Bucky said before he could stop himself. āLike it even matters?!ā
The air shifted instantly. Brockās smile vanished. āWowā Brock said quietly. āSo now Iām the bad guy.ā
āThatās not what I meant-ā āNo, it isā, Brock interrupted. āYou always twist things when you feel cornered.ā
Bucky felt that familiar panic rise. āIām sorry.ā
Brock stared at him for a long moment.
Then he stepped forward. His hand came up fast-not a slap. Never a slap. Just a sharp grip on Buckyās jaw, fingers digging in enough to hurt.
āLook at meā, Brock said softly.
Buckyās breath trembled as he lifted his eyes.
āI do everything for youā, Brock murmured. āI worry about you. I protect you. And you still make me feel like Iām not enough.ā āI didnāt mean to-ā Bucky whispered.
Brockās grip tightened. āDo you know what that does to me?ā Brock asked. āWhen you pull away like that?ā
Bucky shook his head carefully. āIt makes me think-ā Brock said, āthat I donāt matter to you. And when I feel like thatā¦I get bad thoughts.ā
Buckyās chest constricted. āWhat kind of thoughts?ā Brock released his jaw abruptly, stepping back as if ashamed. āYou donāt need to hear that.ā
āNoā, Bucky said quickly. āTell me.ā He didnāt know why he wanted to hear it.
Brock looked at him then-really looked at him-and something like satisfaction flickered across his face before it softened again. āI just donāt know who Iād be without youā, Brock said quietly. āSometimes I thinkā¦maybe itād be easier if I wasnāt here at all.ā
Bucky crossed the space between them instantly. āDonāt say that.ā Brock smiled sadly. āSee? You do care.ā
Bucky nodded, throat tight. āOf course I do.ā
Brock brushed his thumb over the spot on Buckyās jaw heād just bruised. āThen donāt scare me like that.ā Bucky nodded again.
āI wonāt.ā
______________
At the library, Bucky sat between two classmates whose names he barely remembered.
They laughed about something. He smiled automatically.
His phone buzzed.
You okay?
You havenāt answered in ten minutes.
Bucky typed back immediately.
Sorry|
Still here|
Studying|
Three dots appeared.
Send a picture.
Buckyās fingers hesitated, then he snapped a quick photo of his notebook, his sleeve deliberately pulled down to hide the bruise.
Good.
Be home on time.
Bucky locked his phone and stared at the table.
For a brief, dangerous moment, an image flashed through his mind-Steve in the hallway, that look in his eyes. Concern. Recognition.
He saw it, Bucky thought suddenly. Something.
The thought made his chest ache.
He shoved it down.
That life was over.
That night, Brock was affectionate again.
Too affectionate.
He clung to Bucky in bed, hands roaming, breath hot against his neck. He didnāt feel comfortable anymore. When Bucky hesitated, Brock stiffened.
āBecause sometimes it feels like Iām the only one trying,ā Brock said. Bucky forced himself to nod. āI want you.ā āThen show meā, Brock murmured.
And Bucky did. Whatever Brock wanted.
Afterward, Bucky lay very still, staring at the wall while Brock slept.
His body ached.
Not in places that would show.
Alpine curled up against his chest, purring softly.
Bucky buried his face in her fur and let a few silent tears soak in.
He didnāt remember the last time heād cried out loud.
Nine months ago, someone had looked at him like he mattered, but lied.
Now, someone needed him so much it was slowly killing him.
And Bucky didnāt know which was worse. But he went on. He had to.
_______________
It happened on a night that felt almost normal.
That was the worst part.
Brock came home earlier than expected, keys rattling in the lock while Bucky was still in the kitchen, Alpine perched on the counter watching him stir sauce heād probably overseasoned. Bucky startled at the sound anyway-his body reacting before his mind could catch up.
Brock noticed.
āYou jumpy lately?ā Brock asked, tossing his jacket aside.
āJust tiredā, Bucky said automatically.
Brockās eyes lingered on him a second too long. āYouāve been saying that a lot.ā
Dinner was quiet. Brock scrolled on his phone. Bucky ate slowly, barely tasting anything. Alpine weaved around his ankles, tail high, brushing against his calf like she always did when she wanted reassurance.
At some point, Brock laughed at something on his screen.
āOhā he said casually. āGuess who I ran into just before coming homeā
Buckyās stomach dropped. āWho?ā
Brock glanced up, watching his face carefully. āSteve.ā
The fork slipped from Buckyās fingers, clattering against the plate. Brock smiled. āWow. Guess I hit a nerve.ā
āYou-what?ā Bucky whispered. āAt the gym, when I was leaving he was walking insideā Brock continued. āDidnāt talk much. Justā¦recognized him. Hard not to, right?ā He leaned back in his chair, making a gesture about broad shoulders. Oh yeah. Steveās shoulders were soā¦- āHe asked how you were.ā
Buckyās heart slammed against his ribs. His mouth felt dry. āWhy would he-ā āI told him youāre doing greatā, Brock said. āThat you finally found someone who actually knows how to take care of you.ā
Bucky pushed back from the table. āWhy would you talk about me?ā Brockās smile faded. āBecause youāre mine.ā
The word landed wrong. Heavy. Final.
āI donāt belong to youā, Bucky said quietly.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Brock stood slowly.
āWhat did you just say?ā
Bucky swallowed. āI said-I donāt belong to you. Iām not an object.ā
Brock took a step closer. āAfter everything Iāve done for you?ā
āI never asked you to-ā
Brockās hand came out of nowhere.
A fist. Solid. Fast.
Pain exploded across Buckyās face as his head snapped sideways, his vision blurring instantly. He staggered back, hitting the table hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. Then another hit.
For a split second, there was nothing but ringing.
Then-
Alpine screamed.
A sharp, feral sound Bucky had never heard from her before.
She launched herself off the counter, a white blur of claws and fury, slamming into Brockās chest. Her claws raked across his face, his neck, his arm.
āWhat the fuck-!ā Brock shouted, stumbling back.
āAlpine!ā Bucky gasped.
Brock swung blindly, trying to shake her off. āGet this fucking thing off me!ā
āNo!ā Bucky cried, not for Brock, but for alpine. He didnāt want her to get hurt.
Alpine hissed, teeth bared, eyes wild. She clung on like she knew-like she understood.
Brock finally managed to shove her away. She landed on her feet instantly, body low, tail puffed up, standing between Brock and Bucky.
Brock wiped blood from his cheek, breathing hard.
āYou see what you did?ā he snarled. āYou turned her against me.ā
Buckyās face throbbed. His cheek felt hot. Swollen. He tasted blood. His eye twitched.
Something in him snapped-not loudly. Quietly. Cleanly.
If I stay, he will kill me. Maybe not tonight. But he will. Some day.
The thought came fully formed, terrifyingly calm.
Brock took a step forward.
Bucky didnāt think.
He grabbed Alpine.
She protested for half a second, then curled against his chest as he turned and ran.
Bare feet slapped against the floor. He didnāt stop to grab shoes. Didnāt grab his phone. Didnāt grab a jacket. His pajamas fluttered around his legs as he fumbled with the door, hands shaking so badly he almost dropped her.
āBucky!ā Brock shouted behind him. āGet back here!ā
The door flew open.
Cold air hit him like a wall.
He ran.
Down the hallway. Down the stairs. Each step sent pain shooting through his head, but he didnāt slow. His lungs burned. His vision swam. Alpine clung to him, claws digging into his shirt, her heartbeat frantic against his chest.
Behind him, a door slammed.
He didnāt look back.
Outside, the night swallowed him whole.
Snow bit into his bare feet, sharp and unforgiving. He gasped, stumbling, nearly falling-but he caught himself, clutching Alpine tighter.
āIāve got youā, he whispered hoarsely. āIāve got you.ā
He didnāt know where he was going.
Only that he couldnāt go back. And he didnāt want to.
________
Bucky stumbled down the street, Alpine curled tight against his chest, her fur bristling under his hands. Snowflakes hit his bare arms, melting into cold rivulets against his skin. The wind cut through his pajamas, thin and flapping against his legs.
He shivered violently, goosebumps rising in waves. His feet ached, toes numb from the ice forming beneath him. Every breath came in shallow gasps, white mist spiraling into the dark. He hadnāt thoughtā¦hadnāt planned for this. There was nowhere to go. No cab. No Uber. No keys. No phone. No bag. No jacket. No shoes. Nothing.
He pressed Alpine closer, whispering into her fur. āItās okayā¦itās okayā¦Iāve got youā¦ā But even as he said it, he knew the words were for himself. He had nothing else. He didnāt know what to do.
The streetlights were far apart, dim, and flickering. Shadows pooled between them like dark water. Buckyās mind raced, panic clawing at his chest. He couldnāt go to Wanda-not without alerting brock, and he had no way of contacting her. Brock knew too much. Heād made sure of that. Heād know where Buckyād go. And he wouldnāt have money for the cab anyway-right, his phone was at home.
Home.
Ha. What a joke.
He stopped, hugging Alpine to his chest as his knees wobbled. She purred softly, sensing his fear, but her tiny heartbeat thumped against his like a fragile lifeline. Heād saved her. Just like she had saved him.
Then Brockās voice echoed in his head. The memory was sharp, unrelenting: āI donāt know who Iād be without youā¦ maybe itād be easier if I wasnāt here at all.ā
The words made Buckyās stomach twist. Not the threat itself-though it had been a threat-but the promise. The manipulation. The weight of responsibility Brock had shoved onto him, years compressed into a moment. Brock relied on him in a way that was terrifying. Brock had made him feel like leaving wasnāt just impossible-it was immoral.
Bucky pressed his forehead to Alpineās fur. āYouāre all I haveā he whispered. He didnāt know if it was true, or if he was just repeating the lie Brock had made him believe. He didnāt know if leaving somewhere cold, alone, and without anything could even be done. He didnāt know if he had the strength.
And yet.
Other words echoed in his head.
Brock had just seen Steve. At the gym.
The thought tightened his chest, a bitter mix of longing and despair. Nine months of trying to convince himself that it didnāt matter-Steve didnāt matter, he didnāt need to matter-
Bucky took a shivering step forward, the snow crunching under his bare feet. Alpine hissed softly at a passing car, and he bent instinctively to shield her. His hands were numb, but he held her tight, feeling the heat of her body, her heartbeat.
He had nowhere to go.
But the memory of Steveā¦it made him consider the impossible. Maybe, just maybeā¦maybe someone else could see him. Maybe someone else could help him without Brock knowing. Bucky swallowed hard, teeth chattering. He didnāt know how far the night would stretch, or how much longer he could survive on raw adrenaline and freezing cold. But he couldnāt go back. Brock had made that clear. Not tonight. Not ever.
And yet every instinct screamed: he couldnāt stay out here forever.
He exhaled, fog clouding his vision.
Buckyās teeth were chattering so violently it hurt. Every step on the snow-crusted sidewalk felt like walking through knives. His bare feet left bloody footprints behind him, but he didnāt care. He had to get there.
He pressed Alpine tighter to his chest, feeling her tremble against him. āItās okayā he whispered, though he wasnāt sure he believed it. āWeāre almost there. Almost.ā
The gym lights were glowing faintly in the distance. He squinted through the snow and darkness, legs trembling, muscles screaming in protest. Alpine made a small, worried meow, pressing her head into his neck. He kissed the top of her fur, trying to focus.
Steve.
The thought gave him a fraction of courage, enough to keep going. He had no shoes, no coat, no phone. He had nothing but Alpine and the hope that Steve might see him andā¦help him.
Would he tho? He didnāt have to. They werenātā¦a thing? They wereā¦nothing.
By the time he reached the gym doors, he was shivering uncontrollably. His pajamas were soaked through, sticking to his skin. He fumbled at the handle, freezing hands trembling, almost dropping Alpine.
The door opened with a jingle, and the warm air hit him like a wall. He stumbled inside, trying to orient himself, his eyes adjusting. The gym was mostly empty, a few late-night workers on treadmills and ellipticals.
And then he saw him.
Steve.
He wasā¦lifting the weights or something, wearing his gym clothes, looking like he hadnāt changed at all except for the faint crease of tiredness under his eyes. And when he noticed Bucky standing there, soaked, shivering, with Alpine clutched to his chest, something passed over Steveās face-surprise, concern, disbelief.
Buckyās legs nearly gave out. He dropped to his knees, holding Alpine tight. But he didnāt fall. He was wrapped in a tight embrace-Alipne included, but mewing rather unhappily from being squeezed.
Steveās warm body made Bucky nearly melt into him. He shouldnāt react that way. He shouldnāt be so happy to see Steve. He shouldnāt- āBuckyā¦what-what happened?ā
Bucky shook his head violently. Tears stung his eyes. āI canātā¦I canāt go home. Brockā¦he-he hit meā¦I donāt know what to doā¦I justā¦Iām sorry-I had no other options-heād knew if Iād go to Wanda-ā Steve probably didnāt remember how Bucky talked about Wanda and who she was but he didnāt care about that now.
Alpine mewed softly, nudging her tiny head against Buckyās chin, grounding him in the moment.
Steveās expression hardened immediately. āShit.ā He rubbed his hands over Buckys cold skin, nearly shivering himself. āYouāre safe hereā Steve said, low, firm. āYouāre safe.ā
Bucky let out a shuddering breath, burying his face into Alpineās fur and Steveās chest. āI-I didnāt know where else to goā¦I couldnātā¦I didnāt have-ā
āYou didnāt have toā, Steve interrupted gently. āYou donāt have to do anything except get out of that apartment.ā Bucky nodded weakly, legs trembling. āIā¦I didnāt even have my phoneā¦ā Steveās jaw tightened. āDoesnāt matter. Youāre here now.ā
Buckyās teeth chattered violently. āHeā¦Brockā¦heā¦he saidā¦ā His voice broke. āā¦heādā¦ heādā¦ā Steveās hand pressed to his back, steadying him. āShh. Itās okay. You donāt have to say it. Not yet. Justā¦breathe.ā
Bucky took shaky, shivering breaths. Alpine squirmed a little in his arms, tail twitching.
Steveās eyes softened. āWeāll figure this out. Weāll make sure he doesnāt hurt you again.ā Bucky looked up at him, eyes wide and wet, the reality of what had just happened hitting fully. He left Brock and went straight to Steve, the man who broke him months ago-yet he couldnāt imagine to be happier with anyone else right now. āIā¦I didnāt know ifā¦I couldā¦leaveā¦ā
āYou didā Steve said firmly, brushing snow from his hair. āYou left. And you came here. That was smart. That was brave. I appreciate that, Swee-Bucky.ā Did he nearly call Jim sweetheart? It made his chest tighten. What the hell was he even doing here. That was so stupid and at the same time-
Bucky closed his eyes, feeling some tiny, impossible relief for the first time since Brock had hit him. Alpine purred softly, nudging his neck again.
Steveās voice was quiet but steady. āYouāre not alone, Bucky. Not tonight. Not ever if I can help it.ā
Bucky couldnāt speak. He just clutched Alpine, shivering, overwhelmed, and let Steveās presence be enough. For now. Heād think of something. Heā¦.he knew Steve would help him. He had known since he saw him at his door.
Thank you for reading!!
Taglist? If yes, please be active by leaving feedback and reblogging and let me know!:) @ozeriterchick @guiltypleasureisfun @ayronren @gracescor3 @rogersbarber (Iāve decided to tag some people that might be interested! )
Flood my inbox if you have any questions or thoots!ā¤ļø
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated ā¤ļø
Warnings: manipulation , toxic relationships,, isolation, gaslighting, controlling behavior, suicide/selfharm manipulation, minor physical abuse, might be a TW, Brock is an ass. I donāt take responsibility for broken phones if you throw them at the wall in frustrationā¦.
Pairing: currently Brock Rumlow x Bucky Barnes,
(Technically Silver Fox Steve x College Bucky )
A/N: this chapter is mostly about Buckys and Brocks relationship-or rather, how it becomes toxic. But I feel like my writing improved since I had been reading a lot recently and learning new wordsš¤£ in the end English is still not my first language soā¦yeahš¤£
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated ā¤ļø
Bucky didnāt realize how long he sat there.
Alpine eventually fell asleep curled against his thigh, her tiny chest rising and falling, warm and real and here. The apartment felt too quiet without Brockās presence, like the air itself was holding its breath. Or maybe that was just Bucky, waiting for something-an apology, a text, a sign he hadnāt done everything wrong.
His phone buzzed.
He flinched immediately, heart jumping, fingers already moving before his brain could catch up.
Bucky: Iām sorry.
Bucky: I didnāt mean to make you feel like that.
Bucky: I promise thereās nothing going on. Please donāt be mad.
Three dots appeared.
Then disappeared.
Then nothing.
The silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating. Bucky stared at the screen until it dimmed, then locked it and hugged Alpine closer. His chest ached in that same dull way as the morningāpersistent, gnawing, like something slowly hollowing him out from the inside.
He tried to tell himself this was normal. Couples fought. People got jealous. Brock had feelings too. Maybe Bucky really had been insensitive. Crying like that in front of Steve. Letting himself react so openlyā¦
He rubbed his face with both hands.
Youāre too much, a voice whispered in the back of his head. You always are.
He forced himself up, fed Alpine, cleaned the kitchen, folded laundry that didnāt really need folding. Anything to stay busy. Anything to keep from checking his phone every thirty seconds.
When Brock finally came home, it was well past midnight.
The door slammed harder than necessary.
Bucky startled awake on the couch, Alpine bolting upright with a sharp meow. His neck ached- he mustāve drifted off sitting upright. The light in the hallway flicked on, too bright, too sudden.
Brock stood there, jacket tossed over one shoulder, keys clattering onto the table.
āYou asleep?ā he asked, tone flat.
Bucky sat up too fast. āI-yeah. I mean, not really. I was just-ā āUh-huh.ā Brock kicked off his shoes. āYou didnāt have to wait up.ā āI didnāt mean toā, Bucky said quickly. āI justā¦I wanted to talk.ā
Brock sighed like the request physically exhausted him. He rubbed at his temples, jaw tight. āItās late, Buck.ā
Buckyās stomach sank at the nickname. He only ever used it when he was annoyed. āI know, I just-about earlier-ā āJesus.ā Brock let out a short laugh, shaking his head. āYouāre still on that?ā
Bucky froze. āI just wanted to make sure weāre okay.ā
āWe are okayā Brock said sharply. āOr we would be, if youād stop dragging this shit out.ā The words hit harder than Bucky expected.
āIām not trying to,ā he said softly. āI just donāt want you to think-ā āThat youāre still hung up on your ex?ā Brock cut in. āBecause thatās exactly what it looked like.ā
āHeās not my exā Bucky said, voice barely above a whisper. āIt was one night. You know that.ā
āThen why did he matter so much?ā Brock asked. He stepped closer, looming now, hands on his hips. āWhy did you look at him like that?ā
Bucky opened his mouth. Closed it again.
āI donāt know what you mean.ā
Brock scoffed. āSee? This is what Iām talking about. You never take responsibility. You always play innocent.ā
āThatās not fairā, Bucky said, a tremor creeping in despite his best effort to stay calm. āI am taking responsibility. I already apologized.ā
āFor what?ā Brock snapped. āFor embarrassing me? For making me feel like an idiot in my own apartment?ā
āI didnāt mean to embarrass you.ā
āBut you did.ā Brockās voice lowered, dangerous and controlled now. āAnd instead of owning that, youāre sitting here acting like Iām the bad guy for being upset.ā
Buckyās head spun. āThatās not what Iām doing.ā
āIt isā Brock insisted. āYouāre twisting things. You always do this-make me feel like Iām overreacting when youāre the one crossing lines.ā
Bucky stared at him, confused, heart pounding. He replayed the scene in his head: Steve at the door. Alpine safe. Brockās arm around his shoulders, tight and possessive. The way Brock had spoken for him.
āI didnāt cross any linesā, Bucky said quietly.
Brock laughed again, but there was no humor in it.
āWow. So you really donāt see it.ā
āSee what?ā
āThat youāre emotionally cheatingā, Brock said bluntly.
The word knocked the air out of Buckyās lungs.
āWhat?ā His voice cracked. āThatās not true.ā
āThen explain why you reacted like thatā Brock pressed. āWhy you couldnāt even look at me when he was standing there.ā
āI was overwhelmedā, Bucky said. āMy cat was missing for days. I was scared. And then she was suddenly back.ā
āAnd he just happened to be the one who saved herā, Brock said, lips curling. āReal convenient.ā
Bucky swallowed hard. āI canāt control that.ā
āNoā, Brock agreed. āBut you can control how you act.ā
Silence fell between them, thick and heavy.
Alpine shifted on the couch, sensing the tension, her tail flicking anxiously. Bucky reached down to soothe her, but Brockās gaze snapped to the movement.
āYou always do thatā Brock muttered. āDo what?ā āHide behind that damn catā Brock said. āEvery time things get uncomfortable.ā
Bucky flinched. He didnāt understand how the topic suddenly involved Alpine.
āSheās not-ā āIām talking,ā Brock snapped. āSee? You donāt listen. You never do.ā Bucky pressed his lips together, nodding even though his chest felt tight, constricted. He didnāt want to fight. He just wanted things to go back to how they were before Alpine went missing. Before Steve showed up. Before everything feltā¦wrong.
āIām listeningā he said, quieter now.
Brock studied him for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then his shoulders relaxed, just slightly.
āLookā, he said, softer now. āI know youāre sensitive. Thatās not a bad thing. Itās one of the things I like about you.ā Relief washed through Bucky despite himself. āBut sometimesā Brock continued, āyour emotions get the better of you. And you need someone to ground you. To tell you when youāre spiraling.ā
Bucky nodded slowly. āOkay.ā
āAnd thatās all I was doing,ā Brock said. āTrying to protect what we have.ā The knot in Buckyās stomach loosened a fraction. āYou were?ā
āOf courseā Brock said. āWhy would I want to hurt you?ā
Bucky shook his head quickly. āYou wouldnāt.ā
āExactly.ā Brock stepped closer, cupping Buckyās cheek. His touch was warm, familiar. āI just need to know youāre on my side.ā āI amā Bucky said immediately. Too quickly. Too obedient. āI promise.ā
Brock smiled, satisfied. āGood.ā
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Buckyās forehead-lingering just long enough to feel comforting, just short enough to feel conditional.
āIām going to bedā he said. āTry not to overthink everything, yeah?ā Bucky forced a small smile. āYeah.ā
Brock disappeared down the hall, leaving the bedroom door ajar.
Bucky stayed on the couch long after, Alpine purring softly under his hand, trying to piece together what had just happened.
He feltā¦wrong.
Like heād apologized for something he didnāt quite understand. Like the ground had shifted under his feet and he hadnāt noticed until he was already off-balance.
But Brock wasnāt a bad person. He loved him. Heād said so. And Bucky knew he had a tendency to get emotional, to read too much into things.
So if Brock said heād crossed a line-
Maybe he had.
So he decided to be better.
And he definitely didnāt see the red flags coming.
ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢
It didnāt happen all at once.
If it had, Bucky mightāve noticed.
It started small-so small he barely registered it as a change.
Brock began texting more.
At first, it felt nice.
You home yet?
Did you eat?
Miss you.
Bucky smiled at his phone during lectures, thumbs flying under the desk. No one had ever checked on him like this before. It feltā¦grounding. Like someone cared enough to notice when he wasnāt around.
But then the messages shifted.
Why didnāt you answer earlier?
I saw you were online.
Who were you with?
Bucky would frown, heart stuttering, fingers immediately typing explanations he hadnāt needed before.
Sorry, my phone was on silent |
Had class |
Didnāt mean to worry you |
Brock would respond with a thumbs-up emoji or a simple okay, and Bucky would sit with the strange, lingering guilt anyway.
Like heād done something wrong without meaning to. But he didnāt? Orā¦did he? He didnāt mean to upset Brock.
The first real argument happened over Wanda. Or, the second one after what happened with Steve. Tho, he wasnāt sure if it counted as a fightā¦Brock just wanted to make sure Bucky wasnāt spiralling, so it wasnāt really a fight if there were good intentions?
Bucky had mentioned-casually, without thinking-that sheād asked him to grab coffee after class. They hadnāt seen each other properly in weeks.
Brockās expression changed instantly.
āWanda?ā he repeated, tone neutral but tight.
āYeahā, Bucky said, shrugging. āSheās been busy with work and-ā āWhy?ā Brock interrupted.
Bucky blinked. āWhy what?ā
āWhy does she need to see you?ā Brock asked. āDidnāt you hang out, like, last month?ā Bucky hesitated. āI guess? Sheās my friend.ā
Brock leaned back in his chair, arms crossing. āShe doesnāt really like me.ā āThatās not trueā Bucky said quickly. āShe just doesnāt know you that well.ā
āShe judges meā Brock said flatly. āEvery time you talk about her, itās like sheās waiting for me to mess up.ā
Bucky frowned. āSheās not like that.ā
āYou sure?ā Brock asked. āBecause from where Iām standing, sheās always in your ear. Always telling you what you deserve.āā Buckyās stomach twisted. He hated how Brock talked about his best friend. Wanda was a good friend. The best one. āShe just worries about me.ā
āAnd thatās my jobā Brock said sharply. Then softer, almost gentle: āIsnāt it?ā Bucky nodded without thinking. āYeah. I guess.ā
Brock sighed, rubbing his face. āLook, Iām not saying you canāt see her. I just donāt get why youād want to spend time with someone who clearly doesnāt respect our relationship.ā The word our settled heavy in Buckyās chest. He was rightā¦right? What if Wanda was a bad influence?
āI donāt want her to cause problems between usā Brock continued. āEspecially not when things have beenā¦fragile.ā
Fragile. That was Brockās favorite word lately.
Bucky swallowed. āI can cancelā he offered, immediately hating himself for how relieved Brock looked. āI didnāt say thatā Brock replied. āI just want you to think about whatās more important.ā And with that Bucky had decided.
So he texted Wanda an apology.
Something came up |
Rain check? |
She replied a few minutes later.
Again?
You okay, Buck?
Bucky stared at the screen for a long time before typing back.
Yeah |
Just busy |
He didnāt mention Brock.
He wasnāt sure why.
Brock didnāt forbid things.
He never said you canāt.
He said why would you want to?
When Bucky mentioned going to the library late, Brock frowned. āYou know itās not safe at night.ā
When Bucky talked about a group project meeting, Brock scoffed. āFunny how itās always you staying late.ā
When Bucky laughed at a text from Pietro, Brock raised an eyebrow. āDidnāt know he was so interested in your attention.ā
Each comment lodged itself somewhere deep inside Bucky, quiet and corrosive. He started declining invitations without thinking. Stopped answering messages right away. Let calls go to voicemail.
It was easier than explaining.
It was easier than feeling like he was constantly defending himself.
The checking became routine.
āWhat time does your class end again?ā
āWhoās that youāre sitting next to?ā
āSend me a pic-I miss your face.ā
At first, Bucky sent selfies smiling.
Then neutral ones.
Then only when Brock asked twice.
Once, when Bucky didnāt respond for almost an hour-phone dead, charger forgotten-he came home to Brock pacing the living room.
āWhere were you?ā Brock snapped.
āMy phone diedā Bucky said, startled. āI told you my charger was broken.ā āSo Iām just supposed to assume that?ā Brock asked. āYou know how that looks.ā
āHow what looks?ā Bucky asked quietly, unsure.
Brock laughed, shaking his head. āSee? This is what I mean. You never think about how your actions affect me.ā
āI didnāt say you wereā Brock replied. āIām just saying-it wouldnāt kill you to be more considerate.ā And that-ā¦that was a hit.
Bucky nodded. āIāll try.ā
And he did.
God, he really did.
The apartment started to feel smaller.
Brock rearranged things without asking-moved Buckyās books off the coffee table, said they looked cluttered. Changed the password on the Wi-Fi because Bucky ākept forgetting it anyway.ā Installed a tracking app āfor emergencies.ā
āJust in caseā Brock said, smiling.
Bucky hesitated, phone in his hand. āDo we really need this?ā Brockās smile faded. āWhy? You got something to hide?ā
āNoā Bucky said immediately. āI just-ā
āThen whatās the problem?ā
There it was again.
That subtle shift.
The way the question wasnāt really a question at all.
So Bucky installed the app.
The worst part was how Brock could be so good afterwards.
He cooked dinner. Bought Alpine new toys.
Kissed Buckyās knuckles and told him he loved how soft he was, how gentle.
āYouāre too pure for people like himā Brock murmured one night, fingers threading through Buckyās hair.
Bucky stiffened slightly. āSteve?ā
Brock hummed. āYeah. Guys like that just take what they want. They donāt deserve you.ā
Buckyās chest ached. āYou donāt know him. Besides-it was just a drunkenā¦mistakeā For some reason, he still couldnāt get past the reality. Steve, the man who made him feel stars and his chest tingleā¦was a mistake.
āI know enoughā Brock said. āAnd I know Iām the one who stayed.ā
The implication lingered in the air. Be grateful.
Bucky curled into him, nodding. āI am.ā
ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢
By the third week, Wanda stopped texting.
Clint sent one last message.
Miss you, man. Youāve gone quiet.
Bucky typed a response.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Deleted that too.
He didnāt know how to explain why his world had shrunk down to one person without sounding ungrateful. Or dramatic. Or weak.
So he said nothingā¦.
He definitely tried to ignore the memories. The things Steve did to himā¦the good thingsā¦but there were momentsā¦
At night, lying beside Brock, staring at the ceiling, Bucky sometimes thought about Steve.
The thought made guilt coil in his stomach. He shouldnāt be thinking about Steve.
Brock noticed the way his thoughts drifted.
āYouāre doing it againā Brock said quietly one night.
āDoing what?ā Bucky asked.
āChecking outā Brock replied. āYou get this look.ā
Bucky shook his head. āIām just tired.ā
Brock rolled onto his side, facing him. āYouāre not thinking about him, are you?ā āNoā, Bucky lied, heart racing.
Brock studied him for a long moment. Then he smiled.
āGoodā he said. āBecause I donāt think I could handle it if you chose someone else over me.ā Bucky reached for his hand instinctively. āI wouldnāt.ā
Brock squeezed back. āI know.ā
And somewhere deep down, beneath the guilt and the fear and the constant second-guessing, a small, quiet part of him whispered something he didnāt want to hear:
This doesnāt feel like love.
But-maybe itās just his imagination? In the end, Brock was right, he was always overthinking everything.
The days went onā¦
Days turning to weeks.
ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢
It happened one night when Bucky came home later than expected-nothing dramatic, just a study group that ran long. Heād texted. Twice. Brock hadnāt replied.
The apartment was dark when he stepped inside.
Too dark.
āBrock?ā Bucky called softly.
The light in the living room flicked on.
Brock was sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together like he was praying. He didnāt look up.
āDo you have any ideaā Brock said quietly, āhow long I sat here thinking something happened to you?ā
Bucky froze. āI-I texted you.ā
āAfterā, Brock replied. His voice was calm. Too calm. āYou always text after.ā
āThatās not trueā, Bucky said automatically, guilt already blooming in his chest. Brock finally looked up.
His eyes were red.
Not crying-recently cried.
āI just need to knowā Brock said, swallowing. āIf something happened to youā¦what would I even do?ā Buckyās heart lurched. āWhy would you say that?ā
āBecause itās trueā, Brock said. āYouāreā¦youāre kind of all I have, Buck.ā
The words landed heavy.
Bucky set his bag down slowly. āYou have friends.ā
Brock laughed-short, brittle. āNot really. Not like you do.ā
The irony made Buckyās stomach twist.
āI mean itā Brock continued. āIf you left, or if something happened to youā¦I donāt think Iād survive it.ā
Bucky stepped closer without thinking. āDonāt say that.ā
āIām seriousā, Brock said, voice shaking now. āYou give my life meaning. Without you, whatās the point?ā
Bucky felt panic bloom sharp and sudden.
āThatās not healthyā he said weakly. āYou shouldnāt put that on one person.ā
Brockās expression shifted instantly. Cold.
āSo now Iām too much?ā he asked. āNow my feelings are a burden?ā āNo, thatās not-ā
āBecause thatās what it sounds likeā Brock snapped. āLike youāre already halfway out the door.ā
āIām notā Bucky said quickly. Too quickly. āIām right here.ā Brock stared at him for a long moment. Then he exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. āSorryā he muttered. āI justā¦I get scared.ā Bucky nodded. āI know.ā
And just like that, the moment flipped.
Brock pulled him into a hug, tight and sudden, arms locking around his shoulders.
āPromise meā Brock murmured into his hair, āthat you wonāt ever leave.ā Bucky hesitated. Just a second. Brock felt it. His grip tightened.
āPromiseā Brock repeated.
Bucky swallowed. āI promise.ā
And it didnāt feel sweet.
It felt like a threat.
After that, Brockās moods becameā¦unpredictable.
Not explosive.
Not violent.
Justā¦hard to explain. Even harder to understand.
If Bucky laughed too loudly on the phone, Brock would go quiet afterward.
If Bucky seemed distracted, Brock would withdraw completely.
Punishment through absence.
One evening, Bucky mentioned-carelessly-that Wanda had run into him on campus.
āWe all miss youā Wanda had told him. āYou okay?ā
Bucky repeated it to Brock like it was nothing.
It wasnāt.
āSheās still talking about me?ā Brock asked, tone flat.
āShe just asked how I was; about our relationship and stuffā¦.ā
Brock nodded slowly. āFunny. You never ask how I am when youāre out with other people.ā
āI wasnāt out with herā, Bucky said. āShe just-ā
āSee?ā Brock interrupted. āYouāre always defending them. Never me.ā
āThatās not fair.ā
Brock stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. āYou know whatās not fair? Me lying awake at night wondering when youāll realize you donāt need me anymore.ā
Buckyās chest tightened, his body twitched at the change and abrupt reaction. āI need you.ā
Brock stopped.
Turned.
āSay it again.ā
āI need youā, Bucky repeated, softer.
Brock walked toward him slowly. Too slowly.
āAnd what happensā¦ā Brock asked quietly, āwhen you donāt?ā
Bucky frowned. āWhat do you mean?ā
Brockās smile was thin. āI donāt think I could handle that.ā
Something in his tone made Buckyās skin prickle.
āYouāre scaring meā Bucky admitted.
Brockās face immediately softened. āHey. No. Iād never hurt you.ā
He reached out, cupping Buckyās cheek.
His thumb pressed just a little too hard.
āBut if you ever leftā, Brock continued, āI donāt know what Iād do to myself.ā
Buckyās breath hitched.
āYou canāt say thatā, he whispered. āThatās not-ā āItās just the truth,ā Brock replied. āIām not threatening you. Iām being honest.ā
His thumb dug in slightly harder.
Bucky didnāt pull away.
āI just need you to rememberā, Brock said gently, āhow much you matter to me.ā
ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢ā¢
The first time Brock grabbed him, it didnāt feel like violence.
It felt like panic.
Bucky was leaving the apartment-late again, a group presentation he couldnāt miss. Brock had been tense all afternoon, hovering, sighing, asking the same questions over and over.
āDo you really need to go?ā
āCanāt someone else present?ā
āYouāve been gone a lot lately.ā
āIāll be backā, Bucky promised, reaching for the door.
Brockās hand shot out.
Wrapped around his wrist.
Not hard.
Just firm.
Bucky froze.
Brockās eyes widened immediately. āI-sorry. I just-wait.ā
Buckyās heart was pounding. āBrock.ā
āIām just asking for five minutesā, Brock said, fingers still wrapped around him. āIs that so bad?ā
Bucky nodded slowly. āOkay.ā
Brock released him like heād been burned.
āSee?ā Brock said, forcing a smile. āCommunication. Thatās all I want.ā
Bucky left fifteen minutes later.
He didnāt mention the way his wrist still tingled.
After that, the touches lingered longer.
A hand on his lower back steering him where Brock wanted him.
Fingers digging into his arm when he laughed at something Brock didnāt hear.
A body blocking the doorway during arguments-not trapping, justā¦present.
āYouāre being dramaticā, Brock would say if Bucky flinched.
āI didnāt even hurt you.ā
āYouāre too sensitive.ā
And maybe he was.
Thatās what Brock said, anyway.
One night, after an argument Bucky couldnāt even remember starting, Brock sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. They just āmade loveā how Brock started to call sex, but it didnāt feel like that. Not anymore.
āI thought about it todayā, Brock said quietly.
Bucky stiffened. āAbout what?ā
āAbout how easy it would beā, Brock murmured. āTo justā¦stop.ā
Bucky sat up immediately, placing his hand against bricks naked back. āBrock, donāt.ā
āI wouldnātā, Brock said quickly. āNot really. Not unless I lost you.ā
The words wrapped around Buckyās throat like a vice.
And for a terrifying moment, Bucky realized something:
Every promise felt like a chain.
By the end of the month, Bucky barely recognized his own life.
His world had narrowed to:
Brockās moods.
Brockās needs.
Brockās fears.
Everyone else existed at the edges-faded, distant, easier to lose than Brock.
And sometimes, late at night, when Brock slept heavy beside him, one arm draped possessively across his chest, Bucky would stare at the ceiling and think:
If I leave, he might die.
And worse-
If I stay, I might disappear.
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Flood my inbox if you have any questions or thoots!ā¤ļø
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated ā¤ļø
Bucky is a young college student enjoying an evening in a club. For the past twenty minutes he caught the eye of an incredibly handsome man. His hair had a few silver strands, even some in his beard that was neatly trimmed, surrounding those plump rosy lipsā¦
Maybe Bucky was already simping, sure. But who wouldnāt? This dude was hot. And heād love to get to know him. Maybe not only for tonight.
Steve is a cheating bastard, married to a beautiful woman and having two kids-but he doesnāt love his wife. He never did. He thought he did, but it was neverā¦real. Years ago he had realized he liked men.
And since then he started exploring his sexuality. Whenever he was home alone or he had to go on a business trip orā¦just had the opportunity.
Just like today. Peggy was with the kids visiting her parents, but Steve stayed behind with the excuse of needing to work.
Yet he had no work. He just wanted to go out and get a good fuck.
And there he was. A young man with luscious hair, bright eyes that were sparkling up at him, slightly swollen and red lips from how often he had but them while staring at Steve. He knew heād take him home tonight. Just for tonight.
hope you're okay!! sending you love ššš« miss you!
Hi aw thank you š„¹ā¤ļø Iām alright yes, just lost my fun with writing so thatās why my blog is inactive for now š„¹ but Iām still here! So if anyone want to chat, my inbox is still open ā¤ļø
hi same "improvised" anon again. sorry for spamming your inbox but i have a request...
could you perhaps do a part 2? you don't have to, but it'd be very wonderful it you did
love ya and thanks
Improvised pt 2
A/N: Iām currently checking old requests and decided to write the second part of improvised. Itās also funny how much my style changed and improved:)
Summary: itās just a fluffy first morning-date after a shared kiss. As always a bit awkwardā¦and of course, the team wonāt leave you two alone.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader
Warnings: (out of practice writer), just fluff! Some awkwardness
Have fun reading! Iāll appreciate feedback and reblogs!!!
The next morning you almost thought you had dreamed it. You woke up very rested as the sun shined though The Window. A quiet groan escaped your lips as you rolled onto your back, thinking about yesterdays evening.
Steve Rogers kissing you.
Steve Rogers standing in your apartment like he didnāt know what to do with his hands.
Steve Rogers blushing like a schoolboy.
A smile crept onto your lips. Steve Rogers had kissed you. A bit clumsy, but he did kiss you.
You took a quick shower and got dressed, still smiling to yourself. After months of stolen glances, stumbling over words and furious blushing-he had kissed you.
But he hadnāt given you his number. It wouldnāt be a problem right? In the end youād see him on Monday at work.
Or maybe he wasnāt sure about all that? Maybe he-
-when your doorbell rang, you almost dropped the mug of coffee in your hand. You werenāt expecting anyone, and Happy never came this early. Especially not on a Saturday morning. Cautiously, you opened the door-only to see Steve, looking painfully out of place with a bouquet of fresh flowers in one hand and a paper cup tray in the other.
āHiā, he said, voice lower than usual, not as calm and collected. āI uhā¦wasnāt sure if you had breakfast yet. Thought maybe we couldā¦you know, share some.ā
You blinked at him. Captain America. Standing at your door with a bunch of daisies. At 10:30 a.m.
āSteveā, you mumbled, smiling, ādid you seriously buy me flowers?ā You couldnāt remember the last time you received flowers just toā¦just as a gift. Not because the guy was expecting something in return. Steve wanted to charm you-and he was doing a great job. He really made you feelā¦seen.
His ears turned red. āIs thatā¦bad? I just thought-well, itās what youāre supposed to do, right? For a date. It has always been like that back then-ā
You raised a brow. āSo this is a date?ā
He looked like youād just asked him to jump out of a plane without a parachute-which he had done multiple times. āI-well, yes? I mean, it doesnāt have to be if you donāt want it to be-but Iād like it to be. I was hoping so.ā
Your laugh spilled out before you could stop it, soft and surprised. In no way to laugh AT him. āSteve, come in before my neighbors think Captain America is coming to arrest me with coffee and flowers. Thank you. I love them, the flowers were the best idea you couldāve thought of.ā
He followed you inside, standing stiff in your kitchen like he had no idea what to do with himself. You took the flowers from him, searching for a vase, while he busied himself unpacking the coffee. Heād even remembered the exact way you liked it.
It was sweet. Painfully, ridiculously sweet. With way too much milk to call it coffee.
The two of you sat down at your tiny kitchen table, knees brushing under the wood. For a while you just sipped your coffee in silence. The one Steve brought you. Your cup from before was already standing in the sink.
Every time you caught him staring at you, he panicked and looked away, cheeks burning.
āSoā, you finally broke the silence, since it didnāt seem like heād do it anytime soon, āare you always this nervous around women or am I just special?ā
He groaned, hiding his face in his hands. āYou are definitely special. Iā¦havenāt done this in a while.ā
You tilted your head. āA while meaningā¦?ā
He peeked at you through his fingers. āSince the forties.ā
You almost choked on your coffee. āSteve!ā
Before you could tease him further, your phone buzzed on the table. A message from Tony:
Cap showed up yet? Donāt let him chicken out. Iāve got 50 bucks riding on this.
Your eyes widened, and when you looked up, Steve was already blushing again. āHe knows?ā You groaned seeing his bashful smile, before dropping your forehead against the table. āThey all know, donāt they?ā
Steve reached out, hesitantly brushing his hand over yours. āLet them. I donāt really care what Tony thinks.ā His blue eyes softened, earnest and warm. āI just care about you.ā
And somehow, with his hand on yours and that serious expression on his face, you believed him.
āAnd I had to ask Nat what to wear, so yeah, they know. Also, her advice sounded ridiculous-she said I shouldnāt dress up because itād seem likeā¦Iām trying too hard? In my days there wasnāt something like ātoo hardā-ā, he started complaining about todayās dating, making you chuckle. ā-you couldnāt be trying hard enough, you know?-ā āhave you dated a lot back then?ā
Your question made him blush even more as he slowly shook his head. āI wasnāt veryā¦.appealing back then. Women didnāt like skinny sick guys.ā Right. Before the serumā¦
You opened your mouth to reassure him, but your phone buzzed again. Both of you looked down at it at the same time. Another message from Tony.
Tell him he looks fine. Donāt let him talk himself out of it.
You groaned, covering your face with your hand. āOh my godā¦ā
Steve leaned over slightly, squinting at the screen. His face turned red instantly. āHe-heās watching us? Or is he listening?ā
Before you could answer, the phone buzzed again.
Seriously, Rogers. This is like watching a 1940s soap opera. Kiss her again already.
You nearly dropped the phone from laughing, while Steve just buried his face in his hands. āWhy did I ever agree to join this team?ā he mumbled, his voice muffled against his palms. āThese people are awful. Just awful.ā
āThey bet on us, didnāt they? They have from the begging?ā you asked, trying to catch your breath between giggles.
Steve peeked at you through his fingers. āApparently fifty bucks.ā He also laughed quietly. āUnbelievable.ā You shook your head, but you couldnāt help the smile tugging at your lips. āSo basically, we are the teams entertainment now.ā
Steve groaned even louder, leaning back in his chair like the world had betrayed him. āI hate them.ā He definitely didnāt. It actually felt likeā¦like family. Annoying siblings.
Your phone buzzed again. This time, Natasha.
You didnāt even want to know where she got your number from-maybe Tony. Probably.
Heās blushing, isnāt he? Donāt let him leave before lunch.
You looked at Steve, who was indeed red all the way up to his ears. With a grin, you slid the phone across the table to him. āSee? Theyāre not wrong. They know youā¦kinda cute.ā
He shook his head, laughing quietly despite himself. āTheyāre relentless and annoying.ā He sighed, then added softer, āButā¦theyāre right about one thing.ā
You tilted your head. āWhat thing?ā
His hand found yours again, more confidently this time. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, and when he looked at you, the nerves were still thereā¦but so was something stronger. āI donāt want to leave yet.ā
You froze at his words, your eyes flicking from his hand over yours to his face. He looked so serious, but the pink creeping up his cheeks betrayed him.
You cleared your throat, trying not to grin too much. āWellā¦good. Because I didnāt make any plans for today.ā
Steveās shoulders relaxed just a little, and he gave you that small, lopsided smile that made your stomach flip. This is the smile you imagined he carried as a young boy that always got into trouble.
The phone on the table buzzed again. Both of you groaned at the same time.
Donāt screw this up, Rogers. Weāre watching. -Tony
Make pancakes. Trust me. -Nat
Steve rubbed his forehead, muttering, āWhy did I tell her I was coming over?ā
You giggled, grabbing the phone, turning it off and tossing it onto the couch so you wouldnāt be disturbed again. āIgnore them. Theyāll get bored eventually.ā Steve raised a brow. āDo they ever get bored?ā
āFair point.ā You stood, heading for the cabinets. āSoā¦pancakes? What's up with those-your favourite?ā
The look on his face was priceless-part horror, part determination. Definitely no happiness. So no, they werenāt his favourite.
āIāveā¦never made pancakes.ā
You turned slowly, eyes narrowing. You didnāt believe him-you couldnāt. How-how could someone never-? āNever?ā
He held up his hands like he was defending himself. āWe didnāt have much flour during the Depression, alright? And in the Army-well, Army food wasnāt exactly gourmet.ā
You laughed so hard you had to clutch the counter. āSteve Rogers, Captain America, can jump out of planes without a parachute-but canāt make pancakes? Thatās the sweetest thing ever.ā
His ears went red. You called him sweet. āI didnāt say I couldnāt. Just never tried.ā
āThen todayās your lucky day.ā You pushed the mixing bowl toward him. āCongratulations-youāre promoted to head chef.ā
Twenty minutes later, your kitchen looked like a battlefield.
Flour dusted the counters, your shirt, and-most tragically-Steveās perfect hair. He had batter on his forearm, and he was staring at the pan like it was anā¦-āIs it supposed to look like that?ā he asked, poking at a very questionable pancake.
You doubled over laughing. āIt looks likeā¦like a shield that melted and bent by hulk.ā Steve shot you a mock glare but couldnāt hide his smile. āYouāre enjoying this way too much.ā
āI really am.ā You reached up, brushing flour from his temple without thinking. Your fingers lingered a second too long, and Steve went very still, blue eyes locking with yours.
The air shifted-warm, quiet, full of that same nervous tension from last night.
Then, of course, steves phone buzzed in his pocket. Loud enough to break the moment.
You groaned. āI swear if itās them-.ā
Steve sighed, fishing it up. One glance, and he shook his head, cheeks burning. āItāsā¦uh. Clint. He says-and I quote: āIf you havenāt kissed her yet, Iām coming over to do it for you.āā
You clapped a hand over your face, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. āI canāt believe this.ā
But when you lowered your hand, Steve was still watching you, smiling in that soft, almost shy way of his. He set the phone down, stepped closer, and gently cupped your cheek.
āThen maybe,ā he murmured, voice low, āI should save him the trouble.ā
Before you could answer, he leaned in and kissed you again still gentle, still a little uncertain, but this time longer, surer, like he didnāt want to pull away.
And you definitely didnāt want him to.
Thank you for reading! I hope you like it. Please let me know by reblogging and giving feedback! It makes a writer (me) very happy
If you have any questions, hc, Drabble ideas, āwhat ifā¦ā-> flood my inbox! I love reading your thoughts
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i saw that your requests were open and was wondering if you could do captain america x reader where reader is very very shy and doesn't talk much (tony's personal assistant maybe) and steve has big thing for her and like he finally goes up to confess, he gets so nervous he just ends up kissing her?
Thank you for the request!! I hope youāll enjoy it, let me know!
Improvising
šš®š¦š¦šš«š²: After falling for the cute and shy assistant Steve tries to ask her out..but it doesn't go according to plan.
ššš¢š«š¢š§š : Steve Rogers x Assistant!reader
ššš«š§š¢š§š š¬: justĀ fluffĀ I guess?š„°
Donāt forget to like, comment and reblog!
Smiling you entered with Tony the conference room. You were supposed to help Tony, take care of press, documents and meetings,-just stuff every assistant would do...but deep down you knew, you're more like a babysitter for this manchild. You could see it in Peppers eyes when she hired you.
"Okay, Mr Stark-" "Tony, Mr Stark was my father" You sighed quietly. "-So, Tony, after the Meeting, Director Furry needed to-" "Nope." The billionaire interrupted you once again. You have to admit, this job was harder than you thought it would be. It's not really being a assistant, that's hard-it's being Starks assistant. He really didn't want to do anything that he was actually supposed to do. Most of the things were done by you-even taking to Fury, twice in the last two weeks.
It was actually pretty stressful.
While Tony sat down, you just stood behind his chair. It was the first time you were in the conference room, so you also didn't really know what to do. Tony noticed it and gave you a reassuring smile. "Just sit down and relax. During these meetings Jarvis records everything important. You don't have to worry", he said shrugging.
You nodded and turned around to leave the room-walking straight into a solid chest. A very, very muscular and large chest. Without looking you knew who you stumbled into. His hands gripped your waist, to steady you, pulling you slightly closer to him. "Captain", you mumbled, taking a step back.
Steve he feels blood rush to his cheek as he blushes and has to turn his face away, letting go of your waist. He could smell your sweet perfume, which made him always forget everything around him.Since you've started working for Tony, he couldn't stop thinking about you. Your cute laugh, every time Tony said something funny-even though most of his jokes were just stupid, you laughed. It wasn't hard to get you to laugh-and he liked that. He liked seeing you smile.
Even though it made him jealous to see you with Stark-but you were his assistant and obviously a friend. He felt stupid about his feelings-especially since the two of you hadn't really interacted a lot. You always avoided him-at least it felt like that.
"Are you okay?", Steve asked you, letting his gaze slide over you. Not only looking for any injuries-which was very unlikely-but also because he loved the clothes you were wearing to work. You dressed formal, suit pants, dress shirts, sometimes skirts or even high heels-like today. A pretty black suit with red heigh heels-and if this didn't make him crazy, then the red lipstick would do it. You were so-
"...I'm-fine", your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, while you walked away quickly. Steve sighed, watching you walk away.
Of course Tony noticed his starring. "So, Capsicle. She's a catch, don't you thi-" "Just-don't, okay?", Steve mumbled, slumping into one of the chairs around the table.
It took you by surprise, when Tony said you should join the avengers to movie night. At first you thought he was joking-but after asking what movies you liked and when you were free, you really started believing him.
As it turns out, he really meant it.
Normally you'd spend your Friday evening with some friends from back from college or alone watching your comfort series and movies-but this time you were sitting with the avengers in their common room, or more like a living room.
It was nice, even though you were incredibly nervous. Normally you wouldn't spend this much time with anyone from the team-and yet here you were, sitting next to Natasha Romanoff. She was intimidating at first, but within a few minutes she warmed up to you. It was weird to sit next to a deadly Russian assassin-who was clothed in a big, soft purple hoodie. It looked like one of Clints. You knew they were close friends, so it would make sense.
"I'm sorry for being late-I was in the shower and kinda-" "Capsicle, we don't wanna know what you do with your frozen-stick while showering so just-" "that's not what I meant-I just-I forgot the time-I didn't-" Steve flushed after Tony's teasing, crossing his arms defensively. Only then did he realise you were also in the room-your quite giggle made him look at you. A big smile came across his lips, without him noticing it. "Hi-I didn't know-I didn't know you'd be here. Hi", he mumbled.
Tony slapped his forehead at that and let his hand slowly slid down his face. God that was...awful. At first it was amusing to watched the two of you be...well, very oblivious. After three months it started to be annoying-How couldn't you not see your attraction for each other? Even Bruce noticed you had a crush on Steve-and Bruce normally didn't pay attention to stuff like that.
The first time Tony noticed you liked Steve, was on your second day at work. You were with him in his office filling two cups with coffee, since Tony wanted a short lunch break-with you, because he knew you were as much of a workaholic as him. As soon as Steve entered the room, complaining about a change in his suit, he didn't know about before, you completely forgot you were filling your cup. So you overfilled it, spilling coffee everywhere.
Trying to help you Steve stumbled over his own feet-and Tony had never seen this happen. Steve was a damn enhanced Super Soldier-a man with a plan-the hero who fought against aliens to save the world...It was pretty hilarious.
At first.
Since the two of you were clueless he decided to help you.
That's why he invited you to this movie night, telling everyone his intention, of letting the two sit next to each other.
"Hi Cap-Tony invited me-I hope that's no problem?", you mumbled slightly unsure. Steve shook his head, feeling himself blushing a deeper red. āNo, no, thatās not-Iām just surprised, youāve never-ā āSteven, sit down, we want to watch a movieā, Natasha interrupted him. For him being a national hero, he got interrupted quite often by his teammates and friends. āYes, Natā, he mumbled coming closer to the couch.
Only then did he realise Tony sat in the armchair, Steve usually sat in. The last free seat was next to you on the couch. Without saying anything he sat down next to.
You could feel how tense his muscles were, when you thigh touched his. Was he that uncomfortable being close to you? Maybe you should change seats with Natasha.
āYou can call me Steve, you know. Cap is justā¦I prefer Steveā, Steveās voice brought you out of your thoughts. A smile spread over your lips. āOkay, Steve.ā
During the movie nobody really talked-besides the few short comments about the movie itself. At this point you were sitting much closer to Steve, since Nat had changed her position and you had to move closer to the Super Soldier. At first he had tensed, but then quickly relaxed and even smiled at you for a moment-which you hadnāt noticed.
After the first movie ended, Tony decided to start another one. āI canāt-I have to go homeā, you said but he dismissed it. āBullshit. Stay, Happy can drive you home laterā, he said. You knew you couldnāt argue with him. Not really. He was stubborn and a pain in the-
Surprised you looked down at your lap, when a blanked was spread over your legs. You looked up at Steve, who had put the blanket on you two. What you didnāt know was, that it was actually Natashas idea, who had send him a message when you were busy arguing with Tony.
āThank youā, you mumbled, feeling blood rushing to your face, making you blush. Steve couldnāt stop himself from smiling.
It was already pretty late when the second film started, so it wasnāt really surprising how tired you were and that you slowly started to drift off to sleep. Your head fell against Steveās arm, making him gasp. All the avengers around you instantly looked at Steve, noticing you sleeping. Tony wiggled his eyebrows, while Natasha smirked. āPut your arm around herā, she mumbled quietly. Steve shook his head. āNo sheāll wake up or feel unco-ā ājust do it. Sheāll like it, trust me.ā
Steve bit down on his bottom lip, slowly taking his arm from under your head and putting it around your shoulders. Your buried your face against his solid chest, feeling the soft material of his shirt against your cheek. Sighing you cuddled closer. Steve grinned to himself.
The soldier himself started feeling sleepy, but as soon as he closed his eyes the movie endet and everyone started talking. This woke you up.
Slightly confused you looked up from where your head was laying on a really comfy, warm pillow. Only then did you realise it definitely was not a pillow. Gasping your gaze met Steveās, who had been watching you wake up. āIām sorry for falling asleep on youā, apologising you tried to shoot out the crease on his shirt, which made his heartbeat race. His whole body felt on fire, having you this close and, well, rubbing his chest. āItās okay. I didnāt mind it. Iād say Iā¦actually liked itā, he whispered softly.
Blushing, you two looked at each other for a moment, feeling your heartbeat race.
āSo, Y/N, should happy drive you?ā, Tony interrupted your moment, making you quickly stand up. Clearing your throat you shook your head. āNo, I-will call an Uberā, you mumbled, grabbing your phone. Before you could unlock your screen, Steve grabbed your arm gently. āI can drive you.ā
Smiling you nodded slowly, sliding your phone into your pocket. āIf thatās not a problem?ā, Steve quickly stood up, putting his hand on your lower back and slowly guiding you out of the room. He could swear he could hear the others mumble something.
You thought Steve would have car, but going to the garage he went straight to the beautiful motorcycle. You had no idea how youād survive the ride-not because of Steveās bad driving, he was an excellent driver, but men on motorcycles got you weak in the knees.
The drive back home was quick, much quicker than it would be if youād called an Uber-thatās also the reason why you were pressed against steve back, having your arms wrapped around his waist.
And Steve enjoyed it.
After getting off the motorcycle Steve filled you into the building-even to your apartment door, which confused you a bit. While opening the door, you looked back at him. āIs everything okay?ā
Steve nodded, blushing slightly, burying his hands in his jeans pockets. āI wanted to make sure you get home saveā, he mumbled. You laughed quietly. āBut you didnāt have to follow me to my apartment door, Steve, are you sure thatās all?ā, you couldnāt stop yourself from hopingā¦but you couldnāt tell what for exactly.
He sighed. Why did he follow you to your door? Now youād think heās a creep. āWell, Iā¦I donāt have an explanation for that, youāre right. Butā¦I just wanted to sayā¦Today was nice. It was really nice to have you thereā, hearing Steve say this, made you blush. For a moment you had to remind yourself to breathe.
You didnāt know what to say, so you stayed quiet.
āI hoped we could maybe do it again? Well, I meant-not really like today. Not with the team-and it doesnāt have to be a movie night-maybe just some coffee? Or dinner if you donāt like coffee? Or even drinks or-ā, he stopped his rambling, pressing his lips to yours.
Shocked you just stood there, with wide eyes and still holding the doorknob with one hand-but then you realised what was happening. Steve was kissing you.
Steve was KISSING you.
Grabbing his shirt you wanted to pull him closer, but he misunderstood feeling your hand on his chest. He pulled away, looking probably as shook as you did a second ago, āoh my god Iām-ā¦Iām so sorry. I didnāt mean to just-do that?ā, he apologised shaking his head slightly.
You pushed your door open with one hand, while grabbing his shirt with the other one. āWhat if Iād like for you to repeat it?ā, you whispered against his lips, waking with him backwards into your apartment.
Thatās it! I really hope you enjoyed reading! Please let me know:)
