Youâre out with your friends for your 35th birthday. And they pull you into a club-a strip club. At first you really didnât want to, but when the blond beefy young man started giving you a lap dance, you started enjoying yourself more than expected.
This beefy blond young man was Steve, a student with loans and in depth, in need of money.
Thatâs also why he took the job in the first place.
And walking to your table? He did it mostly because of the expensive dress, jewellery and fucking louboutin heels. He knew heâd get great money out of youâŚbut he didnât expect to get your business cardâŚ
and everything that happened after.
Series warnings: age gap, stripper!Steve, rich!Reader, fluff, smut, angst [ more will be added]
Marked with * contains smut
- chapter 1 -
- chapter 2 -
- chapter 3 * -
- chapter 4* -
- chapter 5 -
- chapter 6 -
- chapter 7 -
- chapter 8 -
- chapter 9 -
[âŚ]
Drabbles
Mommy issues
Steve rethinks some stuff while admiring you.
Bucky and Sam meeting Reader
Your date with Steve gets interrupted.
Surprise, surprise
Steveâs tiktok.
This or that?
Steve has another great tiktok idea.
Dinner party
During one of the dinner parties steve is approached by another sugar baby, but they both have very different views.
Steveâs Instagram
Moodboard for chapter 2
Random moodboard
Fanart made by @kestrafagnor đđâ¤ď¸
A/N: yes. A new series. Again. 𤣠and also, Iâm sure I donât have to mention the lovely @jamneuromain is helping me (also, again) with the plot. I started working on it today, so itâll probably take a while till the first chapter comes out, but I hope youâre excited! Itâll be an age gape relationship, with reader leading the gap. Theyâll be chaos, drama, arguments and of course enough fluff to make it up for all the angsty stuff<3
Questions? -> inbox!:)
If someone wants to be on the tag list -> leave a message in my inbox!:)
Pairing: SilverfoxSteve Rogers x College Bucky Barnes
Warnings: abusive relationship (Buckys), Iâm not sure what else, let me know if I need to add anything
A/N:thereâs so much going on in my life rnđŠ I hope yall are doing okay â¤ď¸
Feedback and reblogging is highly appreciated â¤ď¸
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
Steve hadnât 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 wasâŚwrong.
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-Steveâs mind betrayed him. Heâd think of Buckyâs smile, uncertain but hopeful. Of the way heâd bitten his lip when nervous. Of how careful heâd been, like he didnât quite trust that he was allowed to be wanted.
And Steve would pull away.
Too cocky, heâd think. Too loud. Too annoying. Too tall. Too sure. TooâŚnot 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 wasnât.
That realization followed Steve everywhere, like a quiet accusation.
At home, things shifted in ways he couldnât 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 wasnât present.
Sheâd ask him questions and heâd answer a second too late. Heâd forget things-appointments, conversations theyâd already had. Sometimes sheâd catch him staring into nothing, jaw tight, like he was holding something back.
âYou okay?â sheâd ask, brow creasing.
âYeahâ, heâd say automatically. âJust tired.â
It wasnât a lie. But it wasnât the truth either.
He stopped touching her the way he used to. Stopped initiating. When she reached for him, heâd freeze for half a heartbeat before responding, like he had to remind himself how. Peggy noticed that too. She didnât accuse. She didnât demand. Their sex life hadnât 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 couldnât 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 himâŚbut all that seemed impossible now.
He told himself Bucky had moved on. That someone like him wouldnât 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 didnât.
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 didnât 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 wasnât his place. That heâd 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 didnât miss the night.
He missed Bucky.
And that had never happened before.
ââââ-
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.
âYouâre up earlyâ, she murmured.
âCouldnât sleepâ, 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 couldnât 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, âAre you still going to the gym after work?â
Steve hesitated just a fraction too long.
âI might go later,â he said. âWork ran long yesterday. I didnât finish everything.â
She nodded, but her eyes didnât leave his face. âYouâve been changing your schedule a lot.â
It wasnât an accusation. That almost made it worse.
âJust trying to fit things inâ, he replied, keeping his tone even.
âSteveâ, she said quietly, when the kids had left the table. âAre you happy?â
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 couldnât take off.
âI donât knowâ, he said honestly.
She inhaled, steadying herself. âThatâs not an answer.â
âItâs the only one Iâve got.â
She didnât push. Peggy rarely did. Instead, she reached for her mug, hands tight around it, like she was anchoring herself to something solid.
âYouâre not here anymoreâ, she said. âNot the way you used to be.â
Steve swallowed. âIâm trying.â
âI know.â A pause. âI just donât know what youâre trying for.â
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 didnât want to spook something fragile.
âIâm going to the gymâ, Steve said suddenly, grabbing his bag.
She looked up. âNow?â
âYeah. Late one tonight.â
âYou usually donât-â
âI need itâ, he interrupted, sharper than intended.
Peggy flinched, just slightly.
Steve sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. âIâm sorry. I just-need to clear my head.â She studied him for a long moment, then nodded. âOkay.â
Then she gently placed her hand against his arm. âSteve? Donât forget, I was your friend first. Wife second. You can talk to meâŚâ
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 Steveâs thoughts circled places he didnât 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 couldnât name it. Couldnât 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-thatâs 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 thatâs why he had felt so tense all day? The universe knew heâd come face to face with this ass.
He had no idea that this was just the beginning and that any moment everything would change.
ââ
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 didnât make sense, didnât 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.
Steveâs 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 couldnât move.
This wasnât how heâd imagined seeing him again-if heâd ever allowed himself to imagine it at all. Not like this. Not broken into pieces by cold and fear, not looking like heâd run straight out of a nightmare.
Bucky hesitated just inside the door, eyes darting around like he wasnât 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 heâd 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 didnât really realise that.
He could feel how Bucky was melting into him, seeking for warmthâŚand maybe comfort. And heâd give him everything he wanted. âBuckyâŚwhat-what happened?â
Then he felt how Bucky started shaking his head violently. âI canâtâŚI canât go home. BrockâŚhe-he hurt meâŚI donât know what to doâŚI justâŚIâm sorry-I had no other options-heâd knew if Iâd go to Wanda-â Wanda, his best friend. He remembered her from the night in the club. Probably from some of Buckys stories, too.
Steveâs expression hardened at the thought of Brock. He shouldâve punched him as he walked out of the gym. âShit.â He rubbed his hands over Buckys cold skin, nearly shivering himself. âYouâre safe hereâ Steve said, low, firm. Hiding his own broken heart. âYouâre safe.â And heâd make sure of that.
He placed his chin onto Buckys damp hair, listening. âI-I didnât know where else to goâŚI couldnâtâŚI didnât have-â
âYou didnât have toâ, Steve interrupted gently. âYou donât have to do anything except get out of that apartment.â He felt Bucky nod. âIâŚI didnât even have my phoneâŚâ Steveâs jaw tightened. âDoesnât matter. Doesnât matter. Youâre here now.â
Buckyâs teeth chattered violently. âHeâŚBrockâŚheâŚhe saidâŚâ His voice broke. ââŚheâd⌠heâdâŚâ Steveâs hand pressed to his back, steadying him. âShh. Itâs okay. You donât have to say it. Not yet. JustâŚbreatheâŚ.Weâll figure this out. Weâll make sure he doesnât hurt you again.â Steve couldnât believe it. Bucky came to him for help-he had no idea how he knew heâd find him here, but he did. And god help him, if he sees Brock ever again heâd make sure heâd regret hurting Bucky. âIâŚI didnât know ifâŚI couldâŚleaveâŚâ Buckys voice was quite.
âYou didâ Steve said firmly, brushing snow from his hair. âYou left. And you came here. That was smart. That was brave. I appreciate that, Swee-Bucky.â Jesus. He nearly called him sweetheart. This would be-so, so wrong. But it was justâŚit was so easy. Bucky was his sweetheart. His sweet, pretty boy, that he had missed so much.
Steveâs voice was quiet but steady. âYouâre not alone, Bucky. Not tonight. Not ever if I can help it.
Bucky swallowed. His shoulders rose and fell in a shaky breath. âI-Iâm sorryâ he said again, words tumbling over each other. âI know this is probably weird, I just-I didnât know where else to go.â âItâs okay, donât apologise. Iâm glad you came to me.â
Steveâs eyes dropped again, helplessly, to Buckyâs bare feet-red, numb, already starting to bruise from the cold.
âYouâre freezingâ, Steve said, stupidly, because his brain was still catching up to his heart.
Bucky nodded like that fact had only just occurred to him. âYeah. I-couldnât-â His voice cracked, sharp and sudden. He stopped, jaw tightening as if he was physically forcing the sound back down. âCome on, I have a hoodie in my bag. If you want.â
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 Steveâs shirt like he was clinging to a lifeline.
It was then Steve noticed the small white blur tucked against Buckyâs chest.
A cat.
Wide-eyed. Fluffed. Hissing low and angry.
Alpine.
âOhâ Steve breathed. âYou brought her.â
Bucky nodded again, too fast, holding Alpine tighter, as if he was scared of Steve taking her away. âI couldnât leave her.â
Something inside Steve broke at that.
He tightened his hold just enough to keep Bucky upright. âOkayâ, he said quietly. âOkay. Youâre safe with me. Both of you.â
Buckyâs eyes filled instantly, lashes clumping with wetness that had nothing to do with the cold.
âYou promise?â
Steve didnât hesitate.
âI promise.â
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 toâŚheal. And maybe, just maybe, forgive him.
Steve didnât let go of him again.
Not when he grabbed his jacket from the locker room and wrapped it around Buckyâs shoulders. Not when he shoved his own sneakers into Buckyâs 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 didnât care.
People stared.
Steve didnât care either.
He kept one arm firmly around Buckyâs 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 couldnât 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.
âI canât take you to my placeâ, he said quietly, hating himself for how small it sounded. âBut-Iâm not leaving you alone. I swear.â
Bucky nodded immediately, too quickly. Like heâd expected that answer. Like heâd already prepared himself to accept less. âThatâs okayâ he whispered. âI donât need-much. I just neededâŚsomeone.â
That nearly destroyed him.
Steve pulled out of the lot and drove.
He didnât 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 Buckyâs 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 âbusiness trips.â
The irony tasted bitter.
He parked close to the entrance and was around the car in seconds, opening Buckyâs 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.
âTwo towelsâ, he added, voice steady. âExtra blankets.â
The elevator ride was silent.
Bucky stood close, shoulders brushing Steveâs arm. Alpine peeked out from the hoodie Steve had given him, eyes sharp and alert. Buckyâs fingers were still shaking.
When the door finally closed behind them, Steve locked it automatically, then turned.
Bucky lookedâŚsmall.
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 hadnât noticed before.
âWhat happened?â Steve asked softly.
Bucky flinched.
Not dramatically. Just enough.
Steveâs jaw tightened.
âWe donât have to talk about it right now,â he said quickly. âI just-â He gestured helplessly. âYouâre safe. You can shower if you want. Iâll-Iâll stay out here.â
Bucky nodded, clutching Alpine tighter. âCan she come with me?â And Steve looked at him confused.
âOf course. You donât have to ask for permission.â
The bathroom door closed.
Steve sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, hands shaking now that he didnât 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 Buckyâs 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.
âIâm right hereâ, he said instead, voice low but clear. âIâm not going anywhere. IfâŚif youâd need anything.â
The sob broke into something raw and soundless.Steve pressed his forehead against the door, eyes burning.
This wasnât his fault.
But it was his responsibility now.
Whether he liked it or not.
And he wouldnât leave Bucky again. Not this time.
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
Thank you for reading â¤ď¸ feedback and reblogging is highly appreciated â¤ď¸
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, Iâm so frustrated at this point)
Reblogs and feedback are appreciated!â¤ď¸
You donât expect it to happen in the frozen foods aisle.
Youâre 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 doesnât help.
Your breath catches anyway.
âOkayâ, you whisper to yourself, voice tight. âOkay, itâs fine. Itâs just-â
The baby shifts again.
Not a gentle flutter. Not the sweet, reassuring roll youâve 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. Thatâs what your doctor said last week. Everythingâs normal. Everythingâs 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.
Donât pass out. Not here. Not-
âHey.â
The voice is calm. Low. Close.
You blink, trying to focus, and suddenly thereâs someone in front of you. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Close enough that you can see the concern etched into his face before anything else registers.
âAre you okay?â he asks.
You open your mouth. Close it again. âI-yeah, I just-â
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.
âAlrightâ he says gently, already moving. âLetâs sit you down.â
âIâm fineâ you insist weakly, even as your knees threaten to prove you a liar. You didnât even notice how his hands were already there if needed to steady you, his reflexes quick.
âYeahâ he says, not arguing, just steady. âWeâll just sit anyway.â
Thereâs 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 donât even remember agreeing, but suddenly youâre 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 donât feel like youâre about to tip forward into nothing.
âBetter?â he asks.
You nod, though itâs only half true. âI think so. JustâŚdizzy.â
âHave you eaten?â
You hesitate. Fuck. Have you? Not enough.
ââŚNot really.â
His mouth presses into a thin line-not judgmental, just concerned. Maybe a bit scolding, but he was hiding it well. âOkay. Stay here.â
âIâm okay, really, you donât have to-â
But heâs already standing. âIâll be right backâ, he says, like itâs a promise, not a suggestion. Like it was normal to help a pregnant woman-what if you had a husband here? But you hadnât, and it was quite nice being helped,
You stare at the floor, trying to steady your breathing.
This is stupid. Embarrassing. You shouldâve eaten more than a piece of toast this morning. You shouldâve-The baby shifts again, softer this time. A slow roll beneath your palm.
You exhale shakily.
âYeah,â you murmur under your breath. âI know. I know.â
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.
âI didnât know what youâd preferâ he says, a little awkward now, like heâs suddenly aware he might be overstepping. âBut this isâŚeasy, usually. And healthyâ
Your throat tightens unexpectedly, even though there was a small amused grin on your lips. âNo, thatâs-thank youâ, 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. JustâŚpresent. Concerned.
âIâm Steve, by the wayâ, he says after a moment.
You glance up at him again. Really look at him this time. He wasâŚpretty. Handsome, but in a soft way. His eyes looked so soft, inviting. Like you actually mattered.
Steve.
Thereâs something familiar about him, something you canât quite place, but your brain feels too foggy to chase it.
âY/Nâ, you reply quietly.
âNice to meet you, Y/N.â
You huff a small, breathless laugh. âUnder very glamorous circumstances.â
A faint smile touches his mouth. âIâve had worse introductions.â
Thereâs a pause.
You peel the banana slowly, taking a bite more because you know you should than because youâre hungry. Still, it helps. You can feel your body starting to settle, the dizziness easing just a little.
âDo you have someone with you?â he asks carefully.
The question lands heavier than it should.
You shake your head.
âNo. Just me.â
Something flickers in his expression again. Not pity. Never pity. JustâŚconcern. Maybe a hint of something protective.
He nods once. âOkay.â
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 creamâŚ
At this point it felt like you were unloading half of the grocery store onto the cash register.
âYou shouldnât be carrying all that.â
You glance over your shoulder, startled.
Steve again.
Of course itâs Steve again.
Youâd managed to finish your shopping-slowly, carefully, leaning on the cart more than youâd like to admit-and now youâre halfway to the exit, juggling two heavy bags and your own stubborn independence.
âIâve got itâ you say automatically.
He raises an eyebrow.
You hesitate.
ââŚOkay, maybe I donât. But Iâm fine. Iâll walk twice.â
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.
âCar?â he asks, once again, as it was completely normal.
You cleared your throat. âYeah. Outside.â
He falls into step beside you like itâs the most natural thing in the world.
For a moment, neither of you speaks.
Then-
âHow far along?â he asks gently.
âTwenty-eight weeksâ, you reply, one hand drifting unconsciously to your stomach again.
âEverything going okay? Aside fromâŚtoday.â
You nod. âYeah. Doctor says everythingâs good. I just-â you huff lightly â-forget that Iâm not invincible anymore.â
His gaze flicks to you, something almost amused in it. âHappens to the best of us.âYou snort softly. âDoubt that.â
He doesnât 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.
âThis is meâ you say unnecessarily.
He nods, closing the trunk gently.
Thereâs a pause.
âThank youâ you add, quieter now. âForâŚeverything. You didnât have to.â
âI knowâ he says simply. âBut it was my pleasure.â
That shouldnât mean anything.
But it does.
You meet his eyes, and for a second, something settles between you-something warm, steady, unfamiliar.
âTake care of yourself, okay?â he says.
You nod. âYou too.â 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.
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 𼰠next Iâll update Drowning Sirenđ¤
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated â¤ď¸
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 wouldnât 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 Brockâs 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.
Brockâs arm was heavy across his stomach, pinning him in place. He lay still, staring at the ceiling, counting Brockâs 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 lookedâŚ.fine. That was the worst part.
No black eyes. No broken bones. Just shadows under his eyes, a mouth that didnât 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 hadnât meant to. Said Bucky startled him.
âYou know I donât like when you sneak up on meâ, 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 didnât feel dramatic. It feltâŚresigned.
Brock was in a good mood that morning.
That was always dangerous.
âYou didnât wake meâ, Brock said cheerfully as Bucky poured coffee. âSee? Youâre learning.â
Buckyâs stomach tightened. âI didnât want to disturb you.â
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.
âRightâ Brock said, somehow sounding approving of his own choiceâŚor maybe that Bucky started using it? âI knew it.â
His hand slid lower, fingers squeezing just a little too tight. Bucky swallowed but didnât react. Brock liked it when he didnât react. When he accepted it. All of it.
âBig day?â Brock asked casually. âIâve got classesâ Bucky replied. âAnd then the library.â
Brockâs hand stilled. âThe library?â he repeated.
âJust for a few hoursâ, Bucky added quickly. âGroup project.â Brock pulled back enough to look at him. His eyes flicked over Buckyâs face, searching.
âWith who?â Brock asked.
Bucky hesitated.
Just for half a second.
Brock noticed. Of course he noticed. âWhoâ Brock repeated, voice sharpening.
âJustâŚpeople from classâ Bucky said. âNo one you know.â Brock laughed softly. âFunny. Everyone in your life used to be someone I didnât know.â
Bucky looked down. âIâll be home by eight.â Brock sighed dramatically. âI donât like when youâre out late. âI know.â
âBut youâre going anywayâ, Brock said, not quite accusing. Not quite calm. JustâŚ.tense. âItâs for school.â
Brock leaned back against the counter, folding his arms. âYouâve been distant lately.â
Buckyâs heart skipped. âI have?â
âYou donât text as muchâ, Brock continued. âYou donât tell me things like you used to.â âIâm just busy.â
âThatâs what you said before-â Brock replied. âBefore him to Wanda, too.â
Bucky flinched. âSteve hasnât been in my life for months. And it was just once-and- And we werenât a couple back then, so what are you even talking about-?â
âAnd yetâ Brock said lightly, âyou still shut down whenever I mention him.â
âBecause you bring him up like itâs my faultâ, Bucky said before he could stop himself. âLike it even matters?!â
The air shifted instantly. Brockâs smile vanished. âWowâ Brock said quietly. âSo now Iâm the bad guy.â
âThatâs not what I meant-â âNo, it isâ, Brock interrupted. âYou always twist things when you feel cornered.â
Bucky felt that familiar panic rise. âIâm sorry.â
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 Buckyâs jaw, fingers digging in enough to hurt.
âLook at meâ, Brock said softly.
Buckyâs breath trembled as he lifted his eyes.
âI do everything for youâ, Brock murmured. âI worry about you. I protect you. And you still make me feel like Iâm not enough.â âI didnât mean to-â Bucky whispered.
Brockâs grip tightened. âDo you know what that does to me?â Brock asked. âWhen you pull away like that?â
Bucky shook his head carefully. âIt makes me think-â Brock said, âthat I donât matter to you. And when I feel like thatâŚI get bad thoughts.â
Buckyâs chest constricted. âWhat kind of thoughts?â Brock released his jaw abruptly, stepping back as if ashamed. âYou donât need to hear that.â
âNoâ, Bucky said quickly. âTell me.â He didnât 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. âI just donât know who Iâd be without youâ, Brock said quietly. âSometimes I thinkâŚmaybe itâd be easier if I wasnât here at all.â
Bucky crossed the space between them instantly. âDonât say that.â Brock smiled sadly. âSee? You do care.â
Bucky nodded, throat tight. âOf course I do.â
Brock brushed his thumb over the spot on Buckyâs jaw heâd just bruised. âThen donât scare me like that.â Bucky nodded again.
âI wonât.â
______________
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 havenât answered in ten minutes.
Bucky typed back immediately.
Sorry|
Still here|
Studying|
Three dots appeared.
Send a picture.
Buckyâs 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 didnât feel comfortable anymore. When Bucky hesitated, Brock stiffened.
âBecause sometimes it feels like Iâm the only one trying,â Brock said. Bucky forced himself to nod. âI want you.â âThen show meâ, 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 didnât remember the last time heâd 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 didnât 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 heâd probably overseasoned. Bucky startled at the sound anyway-his body reacting before his mind could catch up.
Brock noticed.
âYou jumpy lately?â Brock asked, tossing his jacket aside.
âJust tiredâ, Bucky said automatically.
Brockâs eyes lingered on him a second too long. âYouâve been saying that a lot.â
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.
âOhâ he said casually. âGuess who I ran into just before coming homeâ
Buckyâs stomach dropped. âWho?â
Brock glanced up, watching his face carefully. âSteve.â
The fork slipped from Buckyâs fingers, clattering against the plate. Brock smiled. âWow. Guess I hit a nerve.â
âYou-what?â Bucky whispered. âAt the gym, when I was leaving he was walking insideâ Brock continued. âDidnât talk much. JustâŚrecognized him. Hard not to, right?â He leaned back in his chair, making a gesture about broad shoulders. Oh yeah. Steveâs shoulders were soâŚ- âHe asked how you were.â
Buckyâs heart slammed against his ribs. His mouth felt dry. âWhy would he-â âI told him youâre doing greatâ, Brock said. âThat you finally found someone who actually knows how to take care of you.â
Bucky pushed back from the table. âWhy would you talk about me?â Brockâs smile faded. âBecause youâre mine.â
The word landed wrong. Heavy. Final.
âI donât belong to youâ, Bucky said quietly.
The silence that followed was absolute.
Brock stood slowly.
âWhat did you just say?â
Bucky swallowed. âI said-I donât belong to you. Iâm not an object.â
Brock took a step closer. âAfter everything Iâve done for you?â
âI never asked you to-â
Brockâs hand came out of nowhere.
A fist. Solid. Fast.
Pain exploded across Buckyâs 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 Brockâs chest. Her claws raked across his face, his neck, his arm.
âWhat the fuck-!â Brock shouted, stumbling back.
âAlpine!â Bucky gasped.
Brock swung blindly, trying to shake her off. âGet this fucking thing off me!â
âNo!â Bucky cried, not for Brock, but for alpine. He didnât 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.
âYou see what you did?â he snarled. âYou turned her against me.â
Buckyâs 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 didnât 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 didnât stop to grab shoes. Didnât grab his phone. Didnât grab a jacket. His pajamas fluttered around his legs as he fumbled with the door, hands shaking so badly he almost dropped her.
âBucky!â Brock shouted behind him. âGet back here!â
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 didnât 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 didnât 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.
âIâve got youâ, he whispered hoarsely. âIâve got you.â
He didnât know where he was going.
Only that he couldnât go back. And he didnât 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 hadnât thoughtâŚhadnât 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. âItâs okayâŚitâs okayâŚIâve got youâŚâ But even as he said it, he knew the words were for himself. He had nothing else. He didnât know what to do.
The streetlights were far apart, dim, and flickering. Shadows pooled between them like dark water. Buckyâs mind raced, panic clawing at his chest. He couldnât go to Wanda-not without alerting brock, and he had no way of contacting her. Brock knew too much. Heâd made sure of that. Heâd know where Buckyâd go. And he wouldnât 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. Heâd saved her. Just like she had saved him.
Then Brockâs voice echoed in his head. The memory was sharp, unrelenting: âI donât know who Iâd be without you⌠maybe itâd be easier if I wasnât here at all.â
The words made Buckyâs 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 wasnât just impossible-it was immoral.
Bucky pressed his forehead to Alpineâs fur. âYouâre all I haveâ he whispered. He didnât know if it was true, or if he was just repeating the lie Brock had made him believe. He didnât know if leaving somewhere cold, alone, and without anything could even be done. He didnât 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 didnât matter-Steve didnât matter, he didnât 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 SteveâŚit made him consider the impossible. Maybe, just maybeâŚmaybe someone else could see him. Maybe someone else could help him without Brock knowing. Bucky swallowed hard, teeth chattering. He didnât know how far the night would stretch, or how much longer he could survive on raw adrenaline and freezing cold. But he couldnât go back. Brock had made that clear. Not tonight. Not ever.
And yet every instinct screamed: he couldnât stay out here forever.
He exhaled, fog clouding his vision.
Buckyâs 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 didnât care. He had to get there.
He pressed Alpine tighter to his chest, feeling her tremble against him. âItâs okayâ he whispered, though he wasnât sure he believed it. âWeâre almost there. Almost.â
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 andâŚhelp him.
Would he tho? He didnât have to. They werenâtâŚa thing? They wereâŚnothing.
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 wasâŚlifting the weights or something, wearing his gym clothes, looking like he hadnât 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 Steveâs face-surprise, concern, disbelief.
Buckyâs legs nearly gave out. He dropped to his knees, holding Alpine tight. But he didnât fall. He was wrapped in a tight embrace-Alipne included, but mewing rather unhappily from being squeezed.
Steveâs warm body made Bucky nearly melt into him. He shouldnât react that way. He shouldnât be so happy to see Steve. He shouldnât- âBuckyâŚwhat-what happened?â
Bucky shook his head violently. Tears stung his eyes. âI canâtâŚI canât go home. BrockâŚhe-he hit meâŚI donât know what to doâŚI justâŚIâm sorry-I had no other options-heâd knew if Iâd go to Wanda-â Steve probably didnât remember how Bucky talked about Wanda and who she was but he didnât care about that now.
Alpine mewed softly, nudging her tiny head against Buckyâs chin, grounding him in the moment.
Steveâs expression hardened immediately. âShit.â He rubbed his hands over Buckys cold skin, nearly shivering himself. âYouâre safe hereâ Steve said, low, firm. âYouâre safe.â
Bucky let out a shuddering breath, burying his face into Alpineâs fur and Steveâs chest. âI-I didnât know where else to goâŚI couldnâtâŚI didnât have-â
âYou didnât have toâ, Steve interrupted gently. âYou donât have to do anything except get out of that apartment.â Bucky nodded weakly, legs trembling. âIâŚI didnât even have my phoneâŚâ Steveâs jaw tightened. âDoesnât matter. Youâre here now.â
Buckyâs teeth chattered violently. âHeâŚBrockâŚheâŚhe saidâŚâ His voice broke. ââŚheâd⌠heâdâŚâ Steveâs hand pressed to his back, steadying him. âShh. Itâs okay. You donât have to say it. Not yet. JustâŚbreathe.â
Bucky took shaky, shivering breaths. Alpine squirmed a little in his arms, tail twitching.
Steveâs eyes softened. âWeâll figure this out. Weâll make sure he doesnât hurt you again.â 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 couldnât imagine to be happier with anyone else right now. âIâŚI didnât know ifâŚI couldâŚleaveâŚâ
âYou didâ Steve said firmly, brushing snow from his hair. âYou left. And you came here. That was smart. That was brave. I appreciate that, Swee-Bucky.â 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.
Steveâs voice was quiet but steady. âYouâre not alone, Bucky. Not tonight. Not ever if I can help it.â
Bucky couldnât speak. He just clutched Alpine, shivering, overwhelmed, and let Steveâs presence be enough. For now. Heâd think of something. HeâŚ.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 (Iâve decided to tag some people that might be interested! )
Flood my inbox if you have any questions or thoots!â¤ď¸
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated â¤ď¸
Warnings: manipulation , toxic relationships,, isolation, gaslighting, controlling behavior, suicide/selfharm manipulation, minor physical abuse, might be a TW, Brock is an ass. I donât take responsibility for broken phones if you throw them at the wall in frustrationâŚ.
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 words𤣠in the end English is still not my first language soâŚyeahđ¤Ł
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated â¤ď¸
Bucky didnât 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 Brockâs 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 hadnât done everything wrong.
His phone buzzed.
He flinched immediately, heart jumping, fingers already moving before his brain could catch up.
Bucky: Iâm sorry.
Bucky: I didnât mean to make you feel like that.
Bucky: I promise thereâs nothing going on. Please donât 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 morningâpersistent, 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 openlyâŚ
He rubbed his face with both hands.
Youâre 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 didnât 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 mustâve 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.
âYou asleep?â he asked, tone flat.
Bucky sat up too fast. âI-yeah. I mean, not really. I was just-â âUh-huh.â Brock kicked off his shoes. âYou didnât have to wait up.â âI didnât mean toâ, Bucky said quickly. âI justâŚI wanted to talk.â
Brock sighed like the request physically exhausted him. He rubbed at his temples, jaw tight. âItâs late, Buck.â
Buckyâs stomach sank at the nickname. He only ever used it when he was annoyed. âI know, I just-about earlier-â âJesus.â Brock let out a short laugh, shaking his head. âYouâre still on that?â
Bucky froze. âI just wanted to make sure weâre okay.â
âWe are okayâ Brock said sharply. âOr we would be, if youâd stop dragging this shit out.â The words hit harder than Bucky expected.
âIâm not trying to,â he said softly. âI just donât want you to think-â âThat youâre still hung up on your ex?â Brock cut in. âBecause thatâs exactly what it looked like.â
âHeâs not my exâ Bucky said, voice barely above a whisper. âIt was one night. You know that.â
âThen why did he matter so much?â Brock asked. He stepped closer, looming now, hands on his hips. âWhy did you look at him like that?â
Bucky opened his mouth. Closed it again.
âI donât know what you mean.â
Brock scoffed. âSee? This is what Iâm talking about. You never take responsibility. You always play innocent.â
âThatâs not fairâ, Bucky said, a tremor creeping in despite his best effort to stay calm. âI am taking responsibility. I already apologized.â
âFor what?â Brock snapped. âFor embarrassing me? For making me feel like an idiot in my own apartment?â
âI didnât mean to embarrass you.â
âBut you did.â Brockâs voice lowered, dangerous and controlled now. âAnd instead of owning that, youâre sitting here acting like Iâm the bad guy for being upset.â
Buckyâs head spun. âThatâs not what Iâm doing.â
âIt isâ Brock insisted. âYouâre twisting things. You always do this-make me feel like Iâm overreacting when youâre the one crossing lines.â
Bucky stared at him, confused, heart pounding. He replayed the scene in his head: Steve at the door. Alpine safe. Brockâs arm around his shoulders, tight and possessive. The way Brock had spoken for him.
âI didnât cross any linesâ, Bucky said quietly.
Brock laughed again, but there was no humor in it.
âWow. So you really donât see it.â
âSee what?â
âThat youâre emotionally cheatingâ, Brock said bluntly.
The word knocked the air out of Buckyâs lungs.
âWhat?â His voice cracked. âThatâs not true.â
âThen explain why you reacted like thatâ Brock pressed. âWhy you couldnât even look at me when he was standing there.â
âI was overwhelmedâ, Bucky said. âMy cat was missing for days. I was scared. And then she was suddenly back.â
âAnd he just happened to be the one who saved herâ, Brock said, lips curling. âReal convenient.â
Bucky swallowed hard. âI canât control that.â
âNoâ, Brock agreed. âBut you can control how you act.â
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 Brockâs gaze snapped to the movement.
âYou always do thatâ Brock muttered. âDo what?â âHide behind that damn catâ Brock said. âEvery time things get uncomfortable.â
Bucky flinched. He didnât understand how the topic suddenly involved Alpine.
âSheâs not-â âIâm talking,â Brock snapped. âSee? You donât listen. You never do.â Bucky pressed his lips together, nodding even though his chest felt tight, constricted. He didnât want to fight. He just wanted things to go back to how they were before Alpine went missing. Before Steve showed up. Before everything feltâŚwrong.
âIâm listeningâ he said, quieter now.
Brock studied him for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then his shoulders relaxed, just slightly.
âLookâ, he said, softer now. âI know youâre sensitive. Thatâs not a bad thing. Itâs one of the things I like about you.â Relief washed through Bucky despite himself. âBut sometimesâ Brock continued, âyour emotions get the better of you. And you need someone to ground you. To tell you when youâre spiraling.â
Bucky nodded slowly. âOkay.â
âAnd thatâs all I was doing,â Brock said. âTrying to protect what we have.â The knot in Buckyâs stomach loosened a fraction. âYou were?â
âOf courseâ Brock said. âWhy would I want to hurt you?â
Bucky shook his head quickly. âYou wouldnât.â
âExactly.â Brock stepped closer, cupping Buckyâs cheek. His touch was warm, familiar. âI just need to know youâre on my side.â âI amâ Bucky said immediately. Too quickly. Too obedient. âI promise.â
Brock smiled, satisfied. âGood.â
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Buckyâs forehead-lingering just long enough to feel comforting, just short enough to feel conditional.
âIâm going to bedâ he said. âTry not to overthink everything, yeah?â Bucky forced a small smile. âYeah.â
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 feltâŚwrong.
Like heâd apologized for something he didnât quite understand. Like the ground had shifted under his feet and he hadnât noticed until he was already off-balance.
But Brock wasnât a bad person. He loved him. Heâd said so. And Bucky knew he had a tendency to get emotional, to read too much into things.
So if Brock said heâd crossed a line-
Maybe he had.
So he decided to be better.
And he definitely didnât see the red flags coming.
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
It didnât happen all at once.
If it had, Bucky mightâve 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 feltâŚgrounding. Like someone cared enough to notice when he wasnât around.
But then the messages shifted.
Why didnât you answer earlier?
I saw you were online.
Who were you with?
Bucky would frown, heart stuttering, fingers immediately typing explanations he hadnât needed before.
Sorry, my phone was on silent |
Had class |
Didnât 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 heâd done something wrong without meaning to. But he didnât? OrâŚdid he? He didnât mean to upset Brock.
The first real argument happened over Wanda. Or, the second one after what happened with Steve. Tho, he wasnât sure if it counted as a fightâŚBrock just wanted to make sure Bucky wasnât spiralling, so it wasnât really a fight if there were good intentions?
Bucky had mentioned-casually, without thinking-that sheâd asked him to grab coffee after class. They hadnât seen each other properly in weeks.
Brockâs expression changed instantly.
âWanda?â he repeated, tone neutral but tight.
âYeahâ, Bucky said, shrugging. âSheâs been busy with work and-â âWhy?â Brock interrupted.
Bucky blinked. âWhy what?â
âWhy does she need to see you?â Brock asked. âDidnât you hang out, like, last month?â Bucky hesitated. âI guess? Sheâs my friend.â
Brock leaned back in his chair, arms crossing. âShe doesnât really like me.â âThatâs not trueâ Bucky said quickly. âShe just doesnât know you that well.â
âShe judges meâ Brock said flatly. âEvery time you talk about her, itâs like sheâs waiting for me to mess up.â
Bucky frowned. âSheâs not like that.â
âYou sure?â Brock asked. âBecause from where Iâm standing, sheâs always in your ear. Always telling you what you deserve.ââ Buckyâs stomach twisted. He hated how Brock talked about his best friend. Wanda was a good friend. The best one. âShe just worries about me.â
âAnd thatâs my jobâ Brock said sharply. Then softer, almost gentle: âIsnât it?â Bucky nodded without thinking. âYeah. I guess.â
Brock sighed, rubbing his face. âLook, Iâm not saying you canât see her. I just donât get why youâd want to spend time with someone who clearly doesnât respect our relationship.â The word our settled heavy in Buckyâs chest. He was rightâŚright? What if Wanda was a bad influence?
âI donât want her to cause problems between usâ Brock continued. âEspecially not when things have beenâŚfragile.â
Fragile. That was Brockâs favorite word lately.
Bucky swallowed. âI can cancelâ he offered, immediately hating himself for how relieved Brock looked. âI didnât say thatâ Brock replied. âI just want you to think about whatâs more important.â 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 didnât mention Brock.
He wasnât sure why.
Brock didnât forbid things.
He never said you canât.
He said why would you want to?
When Bucky mentioned going to the library late, Brock frowned. âYou know itâs not safe at night.â
When Bucky talked about a group project meeting, Brock scoffed. âFunny how itâs always you staying late.â
When Bucky laughed at a text from Pietro, Brock raised an eyebrow. âDidnât know he was so interested in your attention.â
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.
âWhat time does your class end again?â
âWhoâs that youâre sitting next to?â
âSend me a pic-I miss your face.â
At first, Bucky sent selfies smiling.
Then neutral ones.
Then only when Brock asked twice.
Once, when Bucky didnât respond for almost an hour-phone dead, charger forgotten-he came home to Brock pacing the living room.
âWhere were you?â Brock snapped.
âMy phone diedâ Bucky said, startled. âI told you my charger was broken.â âSo Iâm just supposed to assume that?â Brock asked. âYou know how that looks.â
âHow what looks?â Bucky asked quietly, unsure.
Brock laughed, shaking his head. âSee? This is what I mean. You never think about how your actions affect me.â
âI didnât say you wereâ Brock replied. âIâm just saying-it wouldnât kill you to be more considerate.â And that-âŚthat was a hit.
Bucky nodded. âIâll try.â
And he did.
God, he really did.
The apartment started to feel smaller.
Brock rearranged things without asking-moved Buckyâs books off the coffee table, said they looked cluttered. Changed the password on the Wi-Fi because Bucky âkept forgetting it anyway.â Installed a tracking app âfor emergencies.â
âJust in caseâ Brock said, smiling.
Bucky hesitated, phone in his hand. âDo we really need this?â Brockâs smile faded. âWhy? You got something to hide?â
âNoâ Bucky said immediately. âI just-â
âThen whatâs the problem?â
There it was again.
That subtle shift.
The way the question wasnât 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 Buckyâs knuckles and told him he loved how soft he was, how gentle.
âYouâre too pure for people like himâ Brock murmured one night, fingers threading through Buckyâs hair.
Bucky stiffened slightly. âSteve?â
Brock hummed. âYeah. Guys like that just take what they want. They donât deserve you.â
Buckyâs chest ached. âYou donât know him. Besides-it was just a drunkenâŚmistakeâ For some reason, he still couldnât get past the reality. Steve, the man who made him feel stars and his chest tingleâŚwas a mistake.
âI know enoughâ Brock said. âAnd I know Iâm the one who stayed.â
The implication lingered in the air. Be grateful.
Bucky curled into him, nodding. âI am.â
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
By the third week, Wanda stopped texting.
Clint sent one last message.
Miss you, man. Youâve gone quiet.
Bucky typed a response.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Deleted that too.
He didnât know how to explain why his world had shrunk down to one person without sounding ungrateful. Or dramatic. Or weak.
So he said nothingâŚ.
He definitely tried to ignore the memories. The things Steve did to himâŚthe good thingsâŚbut there were momentsâŚ
At night, lying beside Brock, staring at the ceiling, Bucky sometimes thought about Steve.
The thought made guilt coil in his stomach. He shouldnât be thinking about Steve.
Brock noticed the way his thoughts drifted.
âYouâre doing it againâ Brock said quietly one night.
âDoing what?â Bucky asked.
âChecking outâ Brock replied. âYou get this look.â
Bucky shook his head. âIâm just tired.â
Brock rolled onto his side, facing him. âYouâre not thinking about him, are you?â âNoâ, Bucky lied, heart racing.
Brock studied him for a long moment. Then he smiled.
âGoodâ he said. âBecause I donât think I could handle it if you chose someone else over me.â Bucky reached for his hand instinctively. âI wouldnât.â
Brock squeezed back. âI know.â
And somewhere deep down, beneath the guilt and the fear and the constant second-guessing, a small, quiet part of him whispered something he didnât want to hear:
This doesnât feel like love.
But-maybe itâs just his imagination? In the end, Brock was right, he was always overthinking everything.
The days went onâŚ
Days turning to weeks.
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
It happened one night when Bucky came home later than expected-nothing dramatic, just a study group that ran long. Heâd texted. Twice. Brock hadnât replied.
The apartment was dark when he stepped inside.
Too dark.
âBrock?â 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 didnât look up.
âDo you have any ideaâ Brock said quietly, âhow long I sat here thinking something happened to you?â
Bucky froze. âI-I texted you.â
âAfterâ, Brock replied. His voice was calm. Too calm. âYou always text after.â
âThatâs not trueâ, Bucky said automatically, guilt already blooming in his chest. Brock finally looked up.
His eyes were red.
Not crying-recently cried.
âI just need to knowâ Brock said, swallowing. âIf something happened to youâŚwhat would I even do?â Buckyâs heart lurched. âWhy would you say that?â
âBecause itâs trueâ, Brock said. âYouâreâŚyouâre kind of all I have, Buck.â
The words landed heavy.
Bucky set his bag down slowly. âYou have friends.â
Brock laughed-short, brittle. âNot really. Not like you do.â
The irony made Buckyâs stomach twist.
âI mean itâ Brock continued. âIf you left, or if something happened to youâŚI donât think Iâd survive it.â
Bucky stepped closer without thinking. âDonât say that.â
âIâm seriousâ, Brock said, voice shaking now. âYou give my life meaning. Without you, whatâs the point?â
Bucky felt panic bloom sharp and sudden.
âThatâs not healthyâ he said weakly. âYou shouldnât put that on one person.â
Brockâs expression shifted instantly. Cold.
âSo now Iâm too much?â he asked. âNow my feelings are a burden?â âNo, thatâs not-â
âBecause thatâs what it sounds likeâ Brock snapped. âLike youâre already halfway out the door.â
âIâm notâ Bucky said quickly. Too quickly. âIâm right here.â Brock stared at him for a long moment. Then he exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. âSorryâ he muttered. âI justâŚI get scared.â Bucky nodded. âI know.â
And just like that, the moment flipped.
Brock pulled him into a hug, tight and sudden, arms locking around his shoulders.
âPromise meâ Brock murmured into his hair, âthat you wonât ever leave.â Bucky hesitated. Just a second. Brock felt it. His grip tightened.
âPromiseâ Brock repeated.
Bucky swallowed. âI promise.â
And it didnât feel sweet.
It felt like a threat.
After that, Brockâs moods becameâŚunpredictable.
Not explosive.
Not violent.
JustâŚhard 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.
âWe all miss youâ Wanda had told him. âYou okay?â
Bucky repeated it to Brock like it was nothing.
It wasnât.
âSheâs still talking about me?â Brock asked, tone flat.
âShe just asked how I was; about our relationship and stuffâŚ.â
Brock nodded slowly. âFunny. You never ask how I am when youâre out with other people.â
âI wasnât out with herâ, Bucky said. âShe just-â
âSee?â Brock interrupted. âYouâre always defending them. Never me.â
âThatâs not fair.â
Brock stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. âYou know whatâs not fair? Me lying awake at night wondering when youâll realize you donât need me anymore.â
Buckyâs chest tightened, his body twitched at the change and abrupt reaction. âI need you.â
Brock stopped.
Turned.
âSay it again.â
âI need youâ, Bucky repeated, softer.
Brock walked toward him slowly. Too slowly.
âAnd what happensâŚâ Brock asked quietly, âwhen you donât?â
Bucky frowned. âWhat do you mean?â
Brockâs smile was thin. âI donât think I could handle that.â
Something in his tone made Buckyâs skin prickle.
âYouâre scaring meâ Bucky admitted.
Brockâs face immediately softened. âHey. No. Iâd never hurt you.â
He reached out, cupping Buckyâs cheek.
His thumb pressed just a little too hard.
âBut if you ever leftâ, Brock continued, âI donât know what Iâd do to myself.â
Buckyâs breath hitched.
âYou canât say thatâ, he whispered. âThatâs not-â âItâs just the truth,â Brock replied. âIâm not threatening you. Iâm being honest.â
His thumb dug in slightly harder.
Bucky didnât pull away.
âI just need you to rememberâ, Brock said gently, âhow much you matter to me.â
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
The first time Brock grabbed him, it didnât feel like violence.
It felt like panic.
Bucky was leaving the apartment-late again, a group presentation he couldnât miss. Brock had been tense all afternoon, hovering, sighing, asking the same questions over and over.
âDo you really need to go?â
âCanât someone else present?â
âYouâve been gone a lot lately.â
âIâll be backâ, Bucky promised, reaching for the door.
Brockâs hand shot out.
Wrapped around his wrist.
Not hard.
Just firm.
Bucky froze.
Brockâs eyes widened immediately. âI-sorry. I just-wait.â
Buckyâs heart was pounding. âBrock.â
âIâm just asking for five minutesâ, Brock said, fingers still wrapped around him. âIs that so bad?â
Bucky nodded slowly. âOkay.â
Brock released him like heâd been burned.
âSee?â Brock said, forcing a smile. âCommunication. Thatâs all I want.â
Bucky left fifteen minutes later.
He didnât 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 didnât hear.
A body blocking the doorway during arguments-not trapping, justâŚpresent.
âYouâre being dramaticâ, Brock would say if Bucky flinched.
âI didnât even hurt you.â
âYouâre too sensitive.â
And maybe he was.
Thatâs what Brock said, anyway.
One night, after an argument Bucky couldnât even remember starting, Brock sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. They just âmade loveâ how Brock started to call sex, but it didnât feel like that. Not anymore.
âI thought about it todayâ, Brock said quietly.
Bucky stiffened. âAbout what?â
âAbout how easy it would beâ, Brock murmured. âTo justâŚstop.â
Bucky sat up immediately, placing his hand against bricks naked back. âBrock, donât.â
âI wouldnâtâ, Brock said quickly. âNot really. Not unless I lost you.â
The words wrapped around Buckyâs 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:
Brockâs moods.
Brockâs needs.
Brockâs 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.
Taglist? If yes, please be active by leaving feedback and reblogging and let me know!:) @ozeriterchick @guiltypleasureisfun @ayronren @gracescor3 @rogersbarber (Iâve decided to tag some people that might be interested! )
Flood my inbox if you have any questions or thoots!â¤ď¸
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated â¤ď¸
Warnings: manipulation , toxic relationships,, isolation, gaslighting, controlling behavior, suicide/selfharm manipulation, minor physical abuse, might be a TW, Brock is an ass. I donât take responsibility for broken phones if you throw them at the wall in frustrationâŚ.
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 words𤣠in the end English is still not my first language soâŚyeahđ¤Ł
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated â¤ď¸
Bucky didnât 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 Brockâs 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 hadnât done everything wrong.
His phone buzzed.
He flinched immediately, heart jumping, fingers already moving before his brain could catch up.
Bucky: Iâm sorry.
Bucky: I didnât mean to make you feel like that.
Bucky: I promise thereâs nothing going on. Please donât 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 morningâpersistent, 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 openlyâŚ
He rubbed his face with both hands.
Youâre 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 didnât 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 mustâve 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.
âYou asleep?â he asked, tone flat.
Bucky sat up too fast. âI-yeah. I mean, not really. I was just-â âUh-huh.â Brock kicked off his shoes. âYou didnât have to wait up.â âI didnât mean toâ, Bucky said quickly. âI justâŚI wanted to talk.â
Brock sighed like the request physically exhausted him. He rubbed at his temples, jaw tight. âItâs late, Buck.â
Buckyâs stomach sank at the nickname. He only ever used it when he was annoyed. âI know, I just-about earlier-â âJesus.â Brock let out a short laugh, shaking his head. âYouâre still on that?â
Bucky froze. âI just wanted to make sure weâre okay.â
âWe are okayâ Brock said sharply. âOr we would be, if youâd stop dragging this shit out.â The words hit harder than Bucky expected.
âIâm not trying to,â he said softly. âI just donât want you to think-â âThat youâre still hung up on your ex?â Brock cut in. âBecause thatâs exactly what it looked like.â
âHeâs not my exâ Bucky said, voice barely above a whisper. âIt was one night. You know that.â
âThen why did he matter so much?â Brock asked. He stepped closer, looming now, hands on his hips. âWhy did you look at him like that?â
Bucky opened his mouth. Closed it again.
âI donât know what you mean.â
Brock scoffed. âSee? This is what Iâm talking about. You never take responsibility. You always play innocent.â
âThatâs not fairâ, Bucky said, a tremor creeping in despite his best effort to stay calm. âI am taking responsibility. I already apologized.â
âFor what?â Brock snapped. âFor embarrassing me? For making me feel like an idiot in my own apartment?â
âI didnât mean to embarrass you.â
âBut you did.â Brockâs voice lowered, dangerous and controlled now. âAnd instead of owning that, youâre sitting here acting like Iâm the bad guy for being upset.â
Buckyâs head spun. âThatâs not what Iâm doing.â
âIt isâ Brock insisted. âYouâre twisting things. You always do this-make me feel like Iâm overreacting when youâre the one crossing lines.â
Bucky stared at him, confused, heart pounding. He replayed the scene in his head: Steve at the door. Alpine safe. Brockâs arm around his shoulders, tight and possessive. The way Brock had spoken for him.
âI didnât cross any linesâ, Bucky said quietly.
Brock laughed again, but there was no humor in it.
âWow. So you really donât see it.â
âSee what?â
âThat youâre emotionally cheatingâ, Brock said bluntly.
The word knocked the air out of Buckyâs lungs.
âWhat?â His voice cracked. âThatâs not true.â
âThen explain why you reacted like thatâ Brock pressed. âWhy you couldnât even look at me when he was standing there.â
âI was overwhelmedâ, Bucky said. âMy cat was missing for days. I was scared. And then she was suddenly back.â
âAnd he just happened to be the one who saved herâ, Brock said, lips curling. âReal convenient.â
Bucky swallowed hard. âI canât control that.â
âNoâ, Brock agreed. âBut you can control how you act.â
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 Brockâs gaze snapped to the movement.
âYou always do thatâ Brock muttered. âDo what?â âHide behind that damn catâ Brock said. âEvery time things get uncomfortable.â
Bucky flinched. He didnât understand how the topic suddenly involved Alpine.
âSheâs not-â âIâm talking,â Brock snapped. âSee? You donât listen. You never do.â Bucky pressed his lips together, nodding even though his chest felt tight, constricted. He didnât want to fight. He just wanted things to go back to how they were before Alpine went missing. Before Steve showed up. Before everything feltâŚwrong.
âIâm listeningâ he said, quieter now.
Brock studied him for a long moment, expression unreadable. Then his shoulders relaxed, just slightly.
âLookâ, he said, softer now. âI know youâre sensitive. Thatâs not a bad thing. Itâs one of the things I like about you.â Relief washed through Bucky despite himself. âBut sometimesâ Brock continued, âyour emotions get the better of you. And you need someone to ground you. To tell you when youâre spiraling.â
Bucky nodded slowly. âOkay.â
âAnd thatâs all I was doing,â Brock said. âTrying to protect what we have.â The knot in Buckyâs stomach loosened a fraction. âYou were?â
âOf courseâ Brock said. âWhy would I want to hurt you?â
Bucky shook his head quickly. âYou wouldnât.â
âExactly.â Brock stepped closer, cupping Buckyâs cheek. His touch was warm, familiar. âI just need to know youâre on my side.â âI amâ Bucky said immediately. Too quickly. Too obedient. âI promise.â
Brock smiled, satisfied. âGood.â
He leaned in, pressing a kiss to Buckyâs forehead-lingering just long enough to feel comforting, just short enough to feel conditional.
âIâm going to bedâ he said. âTry not to overthink everything, yeah?â Bucky forced a small smile. âYeah.â
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 feltâŚwrong.
Like heâd apologized for something he didnât quite understand. Like the ground had shifted under his feet and he hadnât noticed until he was already off-balance.
But Brock wasnât a bad person. He loved him. Heâd said so. And Bucky knew he had a tendency to get emotional, to read too much into things.
So if Brock said heâd crossed a line-
Maybe he had.
So he decided to be better.
And he definitely didnât see the red flags coming.
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
It didnât happen all at once.
If it had, Bucky mightâve 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 feltâŚgrounding. Like someone cared enough to notice when he wasnât around.
But then the messages shifted.
Why didnât you answer earlier?
I saw you were online.
Who were you with?
Bucky would frown, heart stuttering, fingers immediately typing explanations he hadnât needed before.
Sorry, my phone was on silent |
Had class |
Didnât 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 heâd done something wrong without meaning to. But he didnât? OrâŚdid he? He didnât mean to upset Brock.
The first real argument happened over Wanda. Or, the second one after what happened with Steve. Tho, he wasnât sure if it counted as a fightâŚBrock just wanted to make sure Bucky wasnât spiralling, so it wasnât really a fight if there were good intentions?
Bucky had mentioned-casually, without thinking-that sheâd asked him to grab coffee after class. They hadnât seen each other properly in weeks.
Brockâs expression changed instantly.
âWanda?â he repeated, tone neutral but tight.
âYeahâ, Bucky said, shrugging. âSheâs been busy with work and-â âWhy?â Brock interrupted.
Bucky blinked. âWhy what?â
âWhy does she need to see you?â Brock asked. âDidnât you hang out, like, last month?â Bucky hesitated. âI guess? Sheâs my friend.â
Brock leaned back in his chair, arms crossing. âShe doesnât really like me.â âThatâs not trueâ Bucky said quickly. âShe just doesnât know you that well.â
âShe judges meâ Brock said flatly. âEvery time you talk about her, itâs like sheâs waiting for me to mess up.â
Bucky frowned. âSheâs not like that.â
âYou sure?â Brock asked. âBecause from where Iâm standing, sheâs always in your ear. Always telling you what you deserve.ââ Buckyâs stomach twisted. He hated how Brock talked about his best friend. Wanda was a good friend. The best one. âShe just worries about me.â
âAnd thatâs my jobâ Brock said sharply. Then softer, almost gentle: âIsnât it?â Bucky nodded without thinking. âYeah. I guess.â
Brock sighed, rubbing his face. âLook, Iâm not saying you canât see her. I just donât get why youâd want to spend time with someone who clearly doesnât respect our relationship.â The word our settled heavy in Buckyâs chest. He was rightâŚright? What if Wanda was a bad influence?
âI donât want her to cause problems between usâ Brock continued. âEspecially not when things have beenâŚfragile.â
Fragile. That was Brockâs favorite word lately.
Bucky swallowed. âI can cancelâ he offered, immediately hating himself for how relieved Brock looked. âI didnât say thatâ Brock replied. âI just want you to think about whatâs more important.â 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 didnât mention Brock.
He wasnât sure why.
Brock didnât forbid things.
He never said you canât.
He said why would you want to?
When Bucky mentioned going to the library late, Brock frowned. âYou know itâs not safe at night.â
When Bucky talked about a group project meeting, Brock scoffed. âFunny how itâs always you staying late.â
When Bucky laughed at a text from Pietro, Brock raised an eyebrow. âDidnât know he was so interested in your attention.â
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.
âWhat time does your class end again?â
âWhoâs that youâre sitting next to?â
âSend me a pic-I miss your face.â
At first, Bucky sent selfies smiling.
Then neutral ones.
Then only when Brock asked twice.
Once, when Bucky didnât respond for almost an hour-phone dead, charger forgotten-he came home to Brock pacing the living room.
âWhere were you?â Brock snapped.
âMy phone diedâ Bucky said, startled. âI told you my charger was broken.â âSo Iâm just supposed to assume that?â Brock asked. âYou know how that looks.â
âHow what looks?â Bucky asked quietly, unsure.
Brock laughed, shaking his head. âSee? This is what I mean. You never think about how your actions affect me.â
âI didnât say you wereâ Brock replied. âIâm just saying-it wouldnât kill you to be more considerate.â And that-âŚthat was a hit.
Bucky nodded. âIâll try.â
And he did.
God, he really did.
The apartment started to feel smaller.
Brock rearranged things without asking-moved Buckyâs books off the coffee table, said they looked cluttered. Changed the password on the Wi-Fi because Bucky âkept forgetting it anyway.â Installed a tracking app âfor emergencies.â
âJust in caseâ Brock said, smiling.
Bucky hesitated, phone in his hand. âDo we really need this?â Brockâs smile faded. âWhy? You got something to hide?â
âNoâ Bucky said immediately. âI just-â
âThen whatâs the problem?â
There it was again.
That subtle shift.
The way the question wasnât 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 Buckyâs knuckles and told him he loved how soft he was, how gentle.
âYouâre too pure for people like himâ Brock murmured one night, fingers threading through Buckyâs hair.
Bucky stiffened slightly. âSteve?â
Brock hummed. âYeah. Guys like that just take what they want. They donât deserve you.â
Buckyâs chest ached. âYou donât know him. Besides-it was just a drunkenâŚmistakeâ For some reason, he still couldnât get past the reality. Steve, the man who made him feel stars and his chest tingleâŚwas a mistake.
âI know enoughâ Brock said. âAnd I know Iâm the one who stayed.â
The implication lingered in the air. Be grateful.
Bucky curled into him, nodding. âI am.â
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
By the third week, Wanda stopped texting.
Clint sent one last message.
Miss you, man. Youâve gone quiet.
Bucky typed a response.
Deleted it.
Typed again.
Deleted that too.
He didnât know how to explain why his world had shrunk down to one person without sounding ungrateful. Or dramatic. Or weak.
So he said nothingâŚ.
He definitely tried to ignore the memories. The things Steve did to himâŚthe good thingsâŚbut there were momentsâŚ
At night, lying beside Brock, staring at the ceiling, Bucky sometimes thought about Steve.
The thought made guilt coil in his stomach. He shouldnât be thinking about Steve.
Brock noticed the way his thoughts drifted.
âYouâre doing it againâ Brock said quietly one night.
âDoing what?â Bucky asked.
âChecking outâ Brock replied. âYou get this look.â
Bucky shook his head. âIâm just tired.â
Brock rolled onto his side, facing him. âYouâre not thinking about him, are you?â âNoâ, Bucky lied, heart racing.
Brock studied him for a long moment. Then he smiled.
âGoodâ he said. âBecause I donât think I could handle it if you chose someone else over me.â Bucky reached for his hand instinctively. âI wouldnât.â
Brock squeezed back. âI know.â
And somewhere deep down, beneath the guilt and the fear and the constant second-guessing, a small, quiet part of him whispered something he didnât want to hear:
This doesnât feel like love.
But-maybe itâs just his imagination? In the end, Brock was right, he was always overthinking everything.
The days went onâŚ
Days turning to weeks.
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
It happened one night when Bucky came home later than expected-nothing dramatic, just a study group that ran long. Heâd texted. Twice. Brock hadnât replied.
The apartment was dark when he stepped inside.
Too dark.
âBrock?â 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 didnât look up.
âDo you have any ideaâ Brock said quietly, âhow long I sat here thinking something happened to you?â
Bucky froze. âI-I texted you.â
âAfterâ, Brock replied. His voice was calm. Too calm. âYou always text after.â
âThatâs not trueâ, Bucky said automatically, guilt already blooming in his chest. Brock finally looked up.
His eyes were red.
Not crying-recently cried.
âI just need to knowâ Brock said, swallowing. âIf something happened to youâŚwhat would I even do?â Buckyâs heart lurched. âWhy would you say that?â
âBecause itâs trueâ, Brock said. âYouâreâŚyouâre kind of all I have, Buck.â
The words landed heavy.
Bucky set his bag down slowly. âYou have friends.â
Brock laughed-short, brittle. âNot really. Not like you do.â
The irony made Buckyâs stomach twist.
âI mean itâ Brock continued. âIf you left, or if something happened to youâŚI donât think Iâd survive it.â
Bucky stepped closer without thinking. âDonât say that.â
âIâm seriousâ, Brock said, voice shaking now. âYou give my life meaning. Without you, whatâs the point?â
Bucky felt panic bloom sharp and sudden.
âThatâs not healthyâ he said weakly. âYou shouldnât put that on one person.â
Brockâs expression shifted instantly. Cold.
âSo now Iâm too much?â he asked. âNow my feelings are a burden?â âNo, thatâs not-â
âBecause thatâs what it sounds likeâ Brock snapped. âLike youâre already halfway out the door.â
âIâm notâ Bucky said quickly. Too quickly. âIâm right here.â Brock stared at him for a long moment. Then he exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. âSorryâ he muttered. âI justâŚI get scared.â Bucky nodded. âI know.â
And just like that, the moment flipped.
Brock pulled him into a hug, tight and sudden, arms locking around his shoulders.
âPromise meâ Brock murmured into his hair, âthat you wonât ever leave.â Bucky hesitated. Just a second. Brock felt it. His grip tightened.
âPromiseâ Brock repeated.
Bucky swallowed. âI promise.â
And it didnât feel sweet.
It felt like a threat.
After that, Brockâs moods becameâŚunpredictable.
Not explosive.
Not violent.
JustâŚhard 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.
âWe all miss youâ Wanda had told him. âYou okay?â
Bucky repeated it to Brock like it was nothing.
It wasnât.
âSheâs still talking about me?â Brock asked, tone flat.
âShe just asked how I was; about our relationship and stuffâŚ.â
Brock nodded slowly. âFunny. You never ask how I am when youâre out with other people.â
âI wasnât out with herâ, Bucky said. âShe just-â
âSee?â Brock interrupted. âYouâre always defending them. Never me.â
âThatâs not fair.â
Brock stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor. âYou know whatâs not fair? Me lying awake at night wondering when youâll realize you donât need me anymore.â
Buckyâs chest tightened, his body twitched at the change and abrupt reaction. âI need you.â
Brock stopped.
Turned.
âSay it again.â
âI need youâ, Bucky repeated, softer.
Brock walked toward him slowly. Too slowly.
âAnd what happensâŚâ Brock asked quietly, âwhen you donât?â
Bucky frowned. âWhat do you mean?â
Brockâs smile was thin. âI donât think I could handle that.â
Something in his tone made Buckyâs skin prickle.
âYouâre scaring meâ Bucky admitted.
Brockâs face immediately softened. âHey. No. Iâd never hurt you.â
He reached out, cupping Buckyâs cheek.
His thumb pressed just a little too hard.
âBut if you ever leftâ, Brock continued, âI donât know what Iâd do to myself.â
Buckyâs breath hitched.
âYou canât say thatâ, he whispered. âThatâs not-â âItâs just the truth,â Brock replied. âIâm not threatening you. Iâm being honest.â
His thumb dug in slightly harder.
Bucky didnât pull away.
âI just need you to rememberâ, Brock said gently, âhow much you matter to me.â
â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘â˘
The first time Brock grabbed him, it didnât feel like violence.
It felt like panic.
Bucky was leaving the apartment-late again, a group presentation he couldnât miss. Brock had been tense all afternoon, hovering, sighing, asking the same questions over and over.
âDo you really need to go?â
âCanât someone else present?â
âYouâve been gone a lot lately.â
âIâll be backâ, Bucky promised, reaching for the door.
Brockâs hand shot out.
Wrapped around his wrist.
Not hard.
Just firm.
Bucky froze.
Brockâs eyes widened immediately. âI-sorry. I just-wait.â
Buckyâs heart was pounding. âBrock.â
âIâm just asking for five minutesâ, Brock said, fingers still wrapped around him. âIs that so bad?â
Bucky nodded slowly. âOkay.â
Brock released him like heâd been burned.
âSee?â Brock said, forcing a smile. âCommunication. Thatâs all I want.â
Bucky left fifteen minutes later.
He didnât 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 didnât hear.
A body blocking the doorway during arguments-not trapping, justâŚpresent.
âYouâre being dramaticâ, Brock would say if Bucky flinched.
âI didnât even hurt you.â
âYouâre too sensitive.â
And maybe he was.
Thatâs what Brock said, anyway.
One night, after an argument Bucky couldnât even remember starting, Brock sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. They just âmade loveâ how Brock started to call sex, but it didnât feel like that. Not anymore.
âI thought about it todayâ, Brock said quietly.
Bucky stiffened. âAbout what?â
âAbout how easy it would beâ, Brock murmured. âTo justâŚstop.â
Bucky sat up immediately, placing his hand against bricks naked back. âBrock, donât.â
âI wouldnâtâ, Brock said quickly. âNot really. Not unless I lost you.â
The words wrapped around Buckyâs 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:
Brockâs moods.
Brockâs needs.
Brockâs 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.
Taglist? If yes, please be active by leaving feedback and reblogging and let me know!:) @ozeriterchick @guiltypleasureisfun @ayronren @gracescor3 @rogersbarber (Iâve decided to tag some people that might be interested! )
Flood my inbox if you have any questions or thoots!â¤ď¸
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated â¤ď¸
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: Iâm currently checking old requests and decided to write the second part of improvised. Itâs also funny how much my style changed and improved:)
Summary: itâs just a fluffy first morning-date after a shared kiss. As always a bit awkwardâŚand of course, the team wonât leave you two alone.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader
Warnings: (out of practice writer), just fluff! Some awkwardness
Have fun reading! Iâll 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 didnât 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 hadnât given you his number. It wouldnât be a problem right? In the end youâd see him on Monday at work.
Or maybe he wasnât sure about all that? Maybe he-
-when your doorbell rang, you almost dropped the mug of coffee in your hand. You werenât 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.
âHiâ, he said, voice lower than usual, not as calm and collected. âI uhâŚwasnât sure if you had breakfast yet. Thought maybe we couldâŚyou know, share some.â
You blinked at him. Captain America. Standing at your door with a bunch of daisies. At 10:30 a.m.
âSteveâ, you mumbled, smiling, âdid you seriously buy me flowers?â You couldnât remember the last time you received flowers just toâŚjust 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 feelâŚseen.
His ears turned red. âIs thatâŚbad? I just thought-well, itâs what youâre supposed to do, right? For a date. It has always been like that back then-â
You raised a brow. âSo this is a date?â
He looked like youâd just asked him to jump out of a plane without a parachute-which he had done multiple times. âI-well, yes? I mean, it doesnât have to be if you donât want it to be-but Iâd like it to be. I was hoping so.â
Your laugh spilled out before you could stop it, soft and surprised. In no way to laugh AT him. âSteve, 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 couldâve thought of.â
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. Heâd 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.
âSoâ, you finally broke the silence, since it didnât seem like heâd do it anytime soon, âare you always this nervous around women or am I just special?â
He groaned, hiding his face in his hands. âYou are definitely special. IâŚhavenât done this in a while.â
You tilted your head. âA while meaningâŚ?â
He peeked at you through his fingers. âSince the forties.â
You almost choked on your coffee. âSteve!â
Before you could tease him further, your phone buzzed on the table. A message from Tony:
Cap showed up yet? Donât let him chicken out. Iâve got 50 bucks riding on this.
Your eyes widened, and when you looked up, Steve was already blushing again. âHe knows?â You groaned seeing his bashful smile, before dropping your forehead against the table. âThey all know, donât they?â
Steve reached out, hesitantly brushing his hand over yours. âLet them. I donât really care what Tony thinks.â His blue eyes softened, earnest and warm. âI just care about you.â
And somehow, with his hand on yours and that serious expression on his face, you believed him.
âAnd I had to ask Nat what to wear, so yeah, they know. Also, her advice sounded ridiculous-she said I shouldnât dress up because itâd seem likeâŚIâm trying too hard? In my days there wasnât something like âtoo hardâ-â, he started complaining about todayâs dating, making you chuckle. â-you couldnât be trying hard enough, you know?-â âhave you dated a lot back then?â
Your question made him blush even more as he slowly shook his head. âI wasnât veryâŚ.appealing back then. Women didnât like skinny sick guys.â Right. Before the serumâŚ
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. Donât let him talk himself out of it.
You groaned, covering your face with your hand. âOh my godâŚâ
Steve leaned over slightly, squinting at the screen. His face turned red instantly. âHe-heâs watching us? Or is he listening?â
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. âWhy did I ever agree to join this team?â he mumbled, his voice muffled against his palms. âThese people are awful. Just awful.â
âThey bet on us, didnât they? They have from the begging?â you asked, trying to catch your breath between giggles.
Steve peeked at you through his fingers. âApparently fifty bucks.â He also laughed quietly. âUnbelievable.â You shook your head, but you couldnât help the smile tugging at your lips. âSo basically, we are the teams entertainment now.â
Steve groaned even louder, leaning back in his chair like the world had betrayed him. âI hate them.â He definitely didnât. It actually felt likeâŚlike family. Annoying siblings.
Your phone buzzed again. This time, Natasha.
You didnât even want to know where she got your number from-maybe Tony. Probably.
Heâs blushing, isnât he? Donât 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. âSee? Theyâre not wrong. They know youâŚkinda cute.â
He shook his head, laughing quietly despite himself. âTheyâre relentless and annoying.â He sighed, then added softer, âButâŚtheyâre right about one thing.â
You tilted your head. âWhat thing?â
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 thereâŚbut so was something stronger. âI donât want to leave yet.â
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. âWellâŚgood. Because I didnât make any plans for today.â
Steveâs 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.
Donât screw this up, Rogers. Weâre watching. -Tony
Make pancakes. Trust me. -Nat
Steve rubbed his forehead, muttering, âWhy did I tell her I was coming over?â
You giggled, grabbing the phone, turning it off and tossing it onto the couch so you wouldnât be disturbed again. âIgnore them. Theyâll get bored eventually.â Steve raised a brow. âDo they ever get bored?â
âFair point.â You stood, heading for the cabinets. âSoâŚpancakes? What's up with those-your favourite?â
The look on his face was priceless-part horror, part determination. Definitely no happiness. So no, they werenât his favourite.
âIâveâŚnever made pancakes.â
You turned slowly, eyes narrowing. You didnât believe him-you couldnât. How-how could someone never-? âNever?â
He held up his hands like he was defending himself. âWe didnât have much flour during the Depression, alright? And in the Army-well, Army food wasnât exactly gourmet.â
You laughed so hard you had to clutch the counter. âSteve Rogers, Captain America, can jump out of planes without a parachute-but canât make pancakes? Thatâs the sweetest thing ever.â
His ears went red. You called him sweet. âI didnât say I couldnât. Just never tried.â
âThen todayâs your lucky day.â You pushed the mixing bowl toward him. âCongratulations-youâre promoted to head chef.â
Twenty minutes later, your kitchen looked like a battlefield.
Flour dusted the counters, your shirt, and-most tragically-Steveâs perfect hair. He had batter on his forearm, and he was staring at the pan like it was anâŚ-âIs it supposed to look like that?â he asked, poking at a very questionable pancake.
You doubled over laughing. âIt looks likeâŚlike a shield that melted and bent by hulk.â Steve shot you a mock glare but couldnât hide his smile. âYouâre enjoying this way too much.â
âI really am.â 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. âI swear if itâs them-.â
Steve sighed, fishing it up. One glance, and he shook his head, cheeks burning. âItâsâŚuh. Clint. He says-and I quote: âIf you havenât kissed her yet, Iâm coming over to do it for you.ââ
You clapped a hand over your face, laughing so hard your stomach hurt. âI canât believe this.â
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.
âThen maybe,â he murmured, voice low, âI should save him the trouble.â
Before you could answer, he leaned in and kissed you again still gentle, still a little uncertain, but this time longer, surer, like he didnât want to pull away.
And you definitely didnât 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, âwhat ifâŚâ-> flood my inbox! I love reading your thoughts
Taglist: @jamneuromain @buckystevelove @katzvelvet @feltonswifesworld87 @mylifeispainandiloveit @kneelforloki @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bollzinurmouth @lilsiz @rogersbarber @hawkeyes-queen @felicity-lemons-thoughts @magnificentsaladllama @vicmc624 wanna be tagged? Be active by reblogging and leaving feedback! Iâll remove those who arenât active
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 youâll enjoy it, let me know!
Improvising
đđŽđŚđŚđđŤđ˛: After falling for the cute and shy assistant Steve tries to ask her out..but it doesn't go according to plan.
đđđ˘đŤđ˘đ§đ : Steve Rogers x Assistant!reader
đđđŤđ§đ˘đ§đ đŹ: just fluff I guess?đĽ°
Donât 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. âNo, no, thatâs not-Iâm just surprised, youâve never-â âSteven, sit down, we want to watch a movieâ, Natasha interrupted him. For him being a national hero, he got interrupted quite often by his teammates and friends. âYes, Natâ, 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.
âYou can call me Steve, you know. Cap is justâŚI prefer Steveâ, Steveâs voice brought you out of your thoughts. A smile spread over your lips. âOkay, Steve.â
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 hadnât noticed.
After the first movie ended, Tony decided to start another one. âI canât-I have to go homeâ, you said but he dismissed it. âBullshit. Stay, Happy can drive you home laterâ, he said. You knew you couldnât 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 didnât know was, that it was actually Natashas idea, who had send him a message when you were busy arguing with Tony.
âThank youâ, you mumbled, feeling blood rushing to your face, making you blush. Steve couldnât stop himself from smiling.
It was already pretty late when the second film started, so it wasnât really surprising how tired you were and that you slowly started to drift off to sleep. Your head fell against Steveâs arm, making him gasp. All the avengers around you instantly looked at Steve, noticing you sleeping. Tony wiggled his eyebrows, while Natasha smirked. âPut your arm around herâ, she mumbled quietly. Steve shook his head. âNo sheâll wake up or feel unco-â âjust do it. Sheâll like it, trust me.â
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 Steveâs, who had been watching you wake up. âIâm sorry for falling asleep on youâ, 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. âItâs okay. I didnât mind it. Iâd say IâŚactually liked itâ, he whispered softly.
Blushing, you two looked at each other for a moment, feeling your heartbeat race.
âSo, Y/N, should happy drive you?â, Tony interrupted your moment, making you quickly stand up. Clearing your throat you shook your head. âNo, I-will call an Uberâ, you mumbled, grabbing your phone. Before you could unlock your screen, Steve grabbed your arm gently. âI can drive you.â
Smiling you nodded slowly, sliding your phone into your pocket. âIf thatâs not a problem?â, 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 youâd survive the ride-not because of Steveâs 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 youâd called an Uber-thatâs 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. âIs everything okay?â
Steve nodded, blushing slightly, burying his hands in his jeans pockets. âI wanted to make sure you get home saveâ, he mumbled. You laughed quietly. âBut you didnât have to follow me to my apartment door, Steve, are you sure thatâs all?â, you couldnât stop yourself from hopingâŚbut you couldnât tell what for exactly.
He sighed. Why did he follow you to your door? Now youâd think heâs a creep. âWell, IâŚI donât have an explanation for that, youâre right. ButâŚI just wanted to sayâŚToday was nice. It was really nice to have you thereâ, hearing Steve say this, made you blush. For a moment you had to remind yourself to breathe.
You didnât know what to say, so you stayed quiet.
âI hoped we could maybe do it again? Well, I meant-not really like today. Not with the team-and it doesnât have to be a movie night-maybe just some coffee? Or dinner if you donât like coffee? Or even drinks or-â, 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, âoh my god Iâm-âŚIâm so sorry. I didnât mean to just-do that?â, he apologised shaking his head slightly.
You pushed your door open with one hand, while grabbing his shirt with the other one. âWhat if Iâd like for you to repeat it?â, you whispered against his lips, waking with him backwards into your apartment.
Thatâs it! I really hope you enjoyed reading! Please let me know:)
A/N: hi! Another chapter with a little twist!! Hope youâll like it, let me know!!!
Warnings: intimacy and aftermath of a mating bond (biting, scratching, glowing marks), implied smut, graphic violence/gore (claws, teeth, blood, bones breaking, throats ripped), depictions of gun violence (sniper wound, characters held at gunpoint), siren song used as a weapon (mind control, disorientation, blood from ears/nose), brief restraint/captivityâŚyeah, it ainât pretty
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Mermaid Reader
I hope youâll 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, âwhat ifâŚâ-> flood my inbox! I love reading your thoughts
18+
Steve woke first, his body sore in ways he hadnât been in years, not just from pleasure but from you. The memory slammed into him: mating, Mer, the bite. The scratches. yourteeth at the base of his neck. His hand went there instantly and froze when his fingers found the dent and the heat still under his skin. Usually no wound left any kind of scarring on his skinâŚbut there was something.
The bite at his neck still throbbed faintly, but it wasnât red or swollen. The skin glowed faintly, like moonlight through deep water. Thin blue luminescence traced where your teeth had pressed into him, veins of ocean fire under his skin. He pushed the covers back and found the same glow along his arm where your claws had scratched-not scars, not wounds. Marks. Your marks.
Steve swallowed hard, his chest tight. Heâd carried wounds before. Plenty. But these didnât feel like wounds. They felt like belonging.
When you stirred and blinked up at him, he smiled shakily, brushing your hair back. âGuess IâmâŚglowing?â
He rolled onto his side and there you were, curled against him like you belonged there. Your gills fluttered in a slow, sleepy rhythm. Your hair smelled like the sea, comforting in a way.
âYou okay?â, you asked quietly, a bit unsure how he felt about all that, while already nuzzling into his neck. Your gills opened and the scent swelled, sweeter now, and he felt something in his chest unclench at the same time it tightened. His chest feeling warmer.
âYesâŚIâm very okay, happy to have you back with meâ, he chuckled, still a bit sleepy. You smiled, sleepy and fierce all at once. âHome,â you smiled, tapping his sternum where his heart was. âYou my home.â
They lay there for a long time-minutes, maybe hours-while the world outside took care of itself. He let himself listen to the soft sound of your breath.
When he finally slipped a finger along the line where your claws had grazed his skin the night before, you gave a small shiver and pressed closer.
He closed his eyes and let out a laugh that was half-cry. The overwhelming part was not just that youâd come back. It was that you had claimed him in a language older than reason and that he had answered like a man who had been given a map and didnât know how to read it but knew, finally, where he wanted to go. Where you were. Thatâs all that mattered, the way there? He didnât care.
You had trouble keeping your hands away from each other, only leaving the bed after you two got hungry. Too hungry to ignore it. So Steve made some breakfast, sadly without any Fish.
But since you were close to water you've decided to hunt something. You needed some fish to eat, in the end that was your favourite, even when Steve made very good pancakes.
Later, Steve busied himself in the kitchen, chopping vegetables heâd bartered from the nearest town a few days ago. The smell of garlic and onions filled the cabin. He liked this-quiet, ordinary work, the sound of your song humming from the porch as you leaned out into the lake water, tail flicking lazily before you slipped under the surface.
âDonât go far,â he called, half-teasing.
Your head popped up once, water streaming down your cheeks. âNot far. Swim. Back for dinner. Fish.â Then you vanished again, ripples fanning out where youd been.
Steve shook his head with a smile and turned back to the pan. For a few minutes, he let himself imagine more of this. Cooking while you swam. Quiet nights. Something like a life. A family.
The thought shattered with the crack of a rifle.
The window burst, wood splintering, glass spraying across the counter. Steve staggered back, a hot sting across his shoulder. The second shot shattered the wall by his head. His instincts roared to life-shield, cover, enemy. Except he had no shield now, it was in the bedroom, just a skillet and his bare hands.
Men poured through the broken door, masked, rifles up. Hydra. His stomach dropped. Theyâd been watching. Waiting.
Steve raised his hands slowly, chest heaving. âYou donât want to do this.â
âOh, I think we do. Whereâs the girl?â
His heart lurched. Mer. You were still in the water. Safe-for now. He just had to keep their eyes on him. âThereâs no girl,â he said flatly. âWhere. Is. The. Girl.â As the man behind him repeated his words, he pressed the rifle harsher against the back of his head.
And then the air shifted.
It started with a sound, low and thrumming, like the first roll of thunder over the ocean. The hunters faltered, blinking, hands twitching at their weapons. The pitch climbed, sweet and deadly, weaving into their bones. One dropped his gun, glassy-eyed. Another clutched his ears, face twisting in agony.
The front door shuddered before exploding inward. You were there.
Mer moved like the storm itself, claws flashing in the half-light. The first man went down screaming, throat ripped wide open. Another raised his rifle and you were on him, teeth sinking into his shoulder, tearing muscle from bone.
âShoot!â,â one of them shouted, but it was already too late. They dropped, one after another, writhing or limp, caught in the net of her voice.
Another tried to aim, but you lunged, movements liquid and unstoppable. Your teeth sank into his wrist, bone crunching audibly. He screamed, dropping the weapon, and you wrenched your head back with a growl, tearing flesh free.
The song wove through it all, piercing and beautiful, threading into their skulls. One man fell to his knees, clawing at his ears as blood trickled from his nose. Another staggered back, wide-eyed, muttering nonsense as if drunk. They couldnât focus, couldnât breathe under the weight of your voice.
And SteveâŚit didnât affect him. It didnât hurt. His nose wasnât bleeding. It wasâŚ.in a wayâŚ.peaceful? At least not something he feared.
The last man standing shoved Steve toward the ground, gun pressing hard to his head. âStop!â he barked, voice shaking. âIâll kill him-I mean it!â
You slowly turned, looking at the man. Feral. Silence fell, heavy and cold. For a heartbeat, Steve thought maybe youâd listen.
Then your lips curled back, and the sound that came from your chest was not a song but a hiss, low and furious. One that he knew you only made in anger.
The man trembled, pressing the gun harder to Steveâs temple. âIâll do it!â
You moved.
Steve barely saw it-just a blur, a flash of claws, and then the manâs scream. You had him pinned against the wall, claws buried in his side, teeth sinking deep into his throat. Blood gushed hot over your mouth as you tore free, and the body slumped lifeless to the ground.
Slowly, you turned around. And in an instant, the predator was gone. Your eyes softened, your claws shook as you reached for him. âSafe now,â you whispered, voice hoarse, forehead pressing to his. Your hands cupped his jaw, bloody but tender, thumbs brushing away the dirt on his skin. âMy mate safe.â
What do you think, how will Steve react now? đ
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, âwhat ifâŚâ-> flood my inbox! I love reading your thoughts
Taglist: @jamneuromain @buckystevelove @katzvelvet @feltonswifesworld87 @mylifeispainandiloveit @kneelforloki @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bollzinurmouth @lilsiz @rogersbarber @hawkeyes-queen @felicity-lemons-thoughts @magnificentsaladllama @vicmc624 wanna be tagged? Be active by reblogging and leaving feedback! Iâll remove those who arenât active
Let me know if I forgot you, if so then Iâm sorryđ
A/N: Hi! Tbh I donât even know if anyone still appreciates an update here but I donât want to leave it unfinished soâŚtechnically you can see this as the end, but Iâll probably write some more chapters. I just donât know yet when Iâll update this again but I hope it wonât take me so long anymore, sorry đŤ Iâm thinking about either leaving it with Steve x mer or actually making it a trouple;) Well, I donât know what else to say. I hope youâll enjoy this chapter if you decide to give it a go<3
18+
Warnings: intimacy, emotional vulnerability, mating bond, soft sensuality, slight fantasy biology?, Mer is a mermaid which we know soâŚyeah., sexual content but not smutty? More intimate? And not as explicit, but still p in v just briefly described, biting for mating, scenting, justâŚI donât know, itâs not normal sex okay? Be warned.
Pairing: Steve rogers x mermaid reader
The first thing you noticed when Steve opened the door was the bushy addition on his face. You couldnât surely remember how the humans called it in their language, but It immediately made you think of Bucky, Thor and Tony. They all had it too. Steveâs was new. He had a clean face before.
A grin crept onto your lips as you stood up on your tippy toes and placed both of your palms at his cheeks, cupping his face. He looked so cute. The hair was slightly soft and also a bit rough. It scratched your skin lightly, making you giggle.
âMer?â, only then did you notice how broken Steve seemed. His voice was quiet, rough. As if he hadnât talked in a while or was close to tears. Maybe both.
Scratch the second part. Your hands were wet from Steveâs tears. Why was he sad? Wasnât he happy to see you? But you could swear you had felt how much he had missed you-you had missed him too. âWhy Steve sad?â, you asked quietly.
He opened his mouth to say something but a sob escaped his lips as he pulled you in a tight hug. âI thought-I thought you were gone. That I wouldnât see you ever again-god, I missed you so so muchâ, he whispered in your wet hair.
It felt good to have you in his arms again. Feeling your body against his own. Steve had missed this the most. The hugs, the exchange of comfort, your body temperature, your hands grabbing onto his shirt and how you held onto him for dear life.
God, he was so scared heâd never have this again-unless
Was this just a dream? Did he just fall asleep in front of the fireplace? Did all the thinking made him dream about you?
This wouldnât be the first time either. Steve had dreams about this many times. About seeing you again. Having you in his arms. Hearing your laugh. Feeling you nuzzle your face- âSteve? Why not say anything?â, your quiet voice rumbled against his chest, as you tried to look up at him but he was holding you so close you couldnât move much.
A wet chuckle escaped his lips. Maybe it wasnât real but heâd enjoy every second of it.
âI wish weâd had more time before you had left me-â âIâm here now. I stay with Steve for longer and then go visit my family againâ, you interrupted him, pushing him gently away.
He let you do it, feeling a bit confused. This didnât feel like a dream. It felt weirdly real-but it couldnât be, could it? How did you find him then? Was the alcohol getting to him? Once again he even started to believe in losing the serum. Did it stop working?
âButâŚhow is it possible? Wait-letâs go inside-,â he pulled you into the cabin after realizing you were both still standing on the porch with the door wide open. For many reasons heâd rather be inside. Especially because he didnât want to let you go. Fuck hydra or any other opponents, he just didnât want to loose you all over again.
After a few minutes you two were sitting on the couch, with Steve touching you every chance he could get, even just a little bit like brushing his knuckles over your scaled hands. You were really here.
âMy family needed me, so I stay, hunt partner goneâŚmissing? Needed to find. Took long but I missed Steve, missed homeâ, you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling your nose against his neck, nibbling gently at the skin there. âSteve home.â
And thatâs when it hit him.
All the time you hadnât talked about going home-all this time you had tried to tell him that HE was your home. Why? Were you feeling the same way? Were you alsoâŚin love with him? Could Mermaids fall in love? With a human? Your partner wasnât a lover but for hunting? Fuck. He hadnât understood half of the things you had tried to tell him when you had been back at the compound.
Holy shit. All this time you were affectionate because you actually liked him.
He had so many questions. But before he could ask them you pushed your head harder into his neck, clearly unhappy when Steve didnât appreciate it enough.
Steve couldnât stop himself from smiling as he pulled you onto his lap. He had missed your weird affectionate touches. It still troubled him to understand everything you were doing, but when your hand slowly pushed his shirt up, he understood you wanted it off. Not knowing why, but he wouldnât question your needs. He had learned it the hard way once, never again.
So he pulled it over his head, throwing it to the side. âBushy here tooâ, you giggled, brushing your hand over his chest hair, making Steve grin. You hadnât seen him shirtless before.
He had missed you so incredibly much. The way you talked and the little things you noticed that were so normal to him, yet you showed him how different everything for you and him was.
You were from two completely different worlds, yet reunited becauseâŚ.of love? Steve knew you had fallen for you, but still wasnât sure about your feelings.
âSteveâŚâ, your gentle whisper made him look up at you, as you had climbed onto his lap fully. âBe my mate.â
For a short second Steve once again thought he was dreaming. Mate? He knew it meat lover butâŚforever, more committed that just a simple relationship.
âYou want me to be your mate?â âOf course Steve. I just saidâ, you nuzzled your nose gently against his neck. âYou are mateâŚweâŚeh, connected. Like funny phone to big car for musicâ, it really was hard for him not to laugh at that.
He had missed you limited vocabulary, the funny and sometimes weird sentences-just like this one. But he understood. Party. At least enough to make him understand why he saw so many of your memories.
You two were connected.
He swallowed, not wanting his voice to crak as he agreed. âIâŚyes. Yes, god, yes. I want to be your mate foreverâŚâ, he mumbled, immediately being pushed onto the couch in a lying position while your nails scratched his arms. He definitely didnât expect to be jumped by you like a tree-literally.
When you wanted to open his pants he held your hands. âWait-we should talk first-â âwhy talk? We together again-want you, Steveâ, he felt himself blush at your words. To you it seemed so simple. SoâŚintuitive. Maybe thatâs exactly how it should be? Just let himself go. stop over complicating everything. Just be.
âletâs go to the bedroomâ, he whispered, being a bit nervous anyway.
You furrowed your eyebrows, wanting to mate with him as soon as possible to never let him go, but if he liked being in a different room youâd let him do whatever would make him more comfortable.
A little squeak escaped your lips as Steve picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. On the way there you nuzzled your nose into his neck, imagining sinking your teeth in the flesh there.
When he let you down on the bed, his hands slowly roamed over your waist down to the hem of the long shirt that you were wearing. With a quick motion it was on the floor, the too big shorts you were wearing followed.
With that you were naked.
Steve swallowed.
Once.
Twice.
He hadnât been close to a woman inâŚwellâŚquite the time.
Especially not a woman like you. A mermaid. Soft glimmer of your scales, covering your arms, partly your legs, up along your stomach and breasts. He was pretty sure you had them on your back, too.
You were soâŚ
Different.
You were a mythical creature. Something humans never knew existed.
And yet here you were, in his arms, his mate. His lover.
A nervous smile crept on his lips as he gently pushed you to lay down, before climbing over you. One of his hands brushed along your arms to your shoulder and neck,
With the other one he held himself up next to your head. âYouâre beautifulâ, the man whispered, pressing his lips gently to yours in a soft kiss.
You returned the kiss with a soft hum, fingertips ghosting up his bare chest, tracing the contours of his warmth, the bit of hair thereâŚhis humanity. Things mermen didnât have.
But then you did something that made Steve freeze-pressing your face to the crook of his neck, gills fluttering open against his skin. It wasnât new for you to press your gills or face to his neck-but never like that. Never letting them flutter open, completely vulnerable.
Steve could feel the moisture of them, delicate like a sea flower blooming against his throat. It was a sensation unlike anything heâd ever known-soft and electric, intimate in a way deeper than touch.
You didnât seem to notice his shock, letting your hands push down his pants, till he kicked them off onto the floor. A happy hum escaped your throat as your hand brushed over his hard cock, still clothed but twitching at the gentle touch.
âWant you Steveâ, you whispered, already getting rid of his underwear. The corners of your lips twitched at your eagerness and he leaned over you, his hard cock brushing against your thigh. A gasp escaped his lips as he felt the cold scaled against his most sensitive skin. Soft, but cold. Different.
âI want you too sweetheartâ, he kissed lowered his lips to your gills, kissing them. You shivered beneath him, a soft, keening sound rising in your throat. It felt so good being kissed and touched there.
You shifted under him, wrapping your hand around his hardness before guiding him into your wetness, sighing as he pushed into you.
Steve couldnât stop himself from moaning, his body trembling a little bit. It felt different than with any partner before.
You were cool inside. Tight and wet, with a slow, yielding rhythm that moved like the tide. Steve groaned, gripping the sheets beside your head, trying not to lose himself too fast. Everything about this felt sacred. Too much, too good. Still feeling like a dream. He felt lost already.
Your body wrapped around his, your nails digging into his back, not to hurt-but to hold. You met his movements with instinctive rhythm, hips rising to his in gentle pulses. Not rushed. Just two beings becoming one.
It was connection. Mating.
When you leaned into his neck again, he gasped, your gills fluttering wildly as you moaned against his skin, your sharp teeth grazing his skin. Steveâs whole body shivered.
He didnât know why but something inside him made him push into your touch more, into your teeth, asking for it. Wanting it.
So you let your teeth sink into his flesh. Not harsh. Not to hurt him. But enough for him to feel it and have the skin break-your teeth pressing into skin, anchoring yourself to him. He gasped, body jerking, as a strange, warm tingling pulsed outward from where your bite sank in. It wasnât painful. He wasnât scared.
It wasâŚ.comforting. It felt right,
it was right.
âYou are mineâ, you whispered into his ear, kissing below his ear, down to his neck and over the tingling mark.
But you werenât finished. Your claws dragged slowly down his back, then to his arms and along them, scratching his skin. Not deep. Just enough to raise his blood to the surface, to leave him tingling. Marked. Claimed. It felt just like with the beat. No fear, only comfort.
He dropped his head against your shoulder, âIâm yours, foreverâ, he gasped, his body feeling on fire-in a good way.
Steveâs lungs were filled with a unknown smell, like sea but sweeter andâŚâdo you smell that?â, he whispered, making you press his face closer to your neck. âMeâŚmateâ, you didnât know how to explain it with your limited words. Explain to him that this is your scent, only for your mate to feel.
It grew stronger with your pleasure which Steve noticed, making him crave it more, but also bringing him closer to his own high. It made him dizzy, his grip on you tightening.
Steve kissed you then, desperate and tender, his hand cradling your cheek like you were something precious. And maybe you were-something not quite of this world, but his all the same.
When you finally fell still beneath him, reaching your high, gills fluttering with each shallow breath, you pulled him close and pressed his face to the spot where your scent lingered strongest-along your collarbone, behind your ear, at your gills.
Itâs all Steve needed to reach his high, so intense he couldnât hold himself anymore, letting you carry his weigh, which you didnât seem to mind, wrapping your arms and legs around him, putting and clicking quietly, happy.
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, âwhat ifâŚâ-> flood my inbox! I love reading your thoughts
Taglist: @jamneuromain @buckystevelove @katzvelvet @feltonswifesworld87 @mylifeispainandiloveit @kneelforloki @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bollzinurmouth @lilsiz @rogersbarber @hawkeyes-queen @felicity-lemons-thoughts @magnificentsaladllama wanna be tagged? Be active by reblogging and leaving feedback! Iâll remove those who arenât active
A/N: Hi! Tbh I donât even know if anyone still appreciates an update here but I donât want to leave it unfinished soâŚtechnically you can see this as the end, but Iâll probably write some more chapters. I just donât know yet when Iâll update this again but I hope it wonât take me so long anymore, sorry đŤ Iâm thinking about either leaving it with Steve x mer or actually making it a trouple;) Well, I donât know what else to say. I hope youâll enjoy this chapter if you decide to give it a go<3
18+
Warnings: intimacy, emotional vulnerability, mating bond, soft sensuality, slight fantasy biology?, Mer is a mermaid which we know soâŚyeah., sexual content but not smutty? More intimate? And not as explicit, but still p in v just briefly described, biting for mating, scenting, justâŚI donât know, itâs not normal sex okay? Be warned.
Pairing: Steve rogers x mermaid reader
The first thing you noticed when Steve opened the door was the bushy addition on his face. You couldnât surely remember how the humans called it in their language, but It immediately made you think of Bucky, Thor and Tony. They all had it too. Steveâs was new. He had a clean face before.
A grin crept onto your lips as you stood up on your tippy toes and placed both of your palms at his cheeks, cupping his face. He looked so cute. The hair was slightly soft and also a bit rough. It scratched your skin lightly, making you giggle.
âMer?â, only then did you notice how broken Steve seemed. His voice was quiet, rough. As if he hadnât talked in a while or was close to tears. Maybe both.
Scratch the second part. Your hands were wet from Steveâs tears. Why was he sad? Wasnât he happy to see you? But you could swear you had felt how much he had missed you-you had missed him too. âWhy Steve sad?â, you asked quietly.
He opened his mouth to say something but a sob escaped his lips as he pulled you in a tight hug. âI thought-I thought you were gone. That I wouldnât see you ever again-god, I missed you so so muchâ, he whispered in your wet hair.
It felt good to have you in his arms again. Feeling your body against his own. Steve had missed this the most. The hugs, the exchange of comfort, your body temperature, your hands grabbing onto his shirt and how you held onto him for dear life.
God, he was so scared heâd never have this again-unless
Was this just a dream? Did he just fall asleep in front of the fireplace? Did all the thinking made him dream about you?
This wouldnât be the first time either. Steve had dreams about this many times. About seeing you again. Having you in his arms. Hearing your laugh. Feeling you nuzzle your face- âSteve? Why not say anything?â, your quiet voice rumbled against his chest, as you tried to look up at him but he was holding you so close you couldnât move much.
A wet chuckle escaped his lips. Maybe it wasnât real but heâd enjoy every second of it.
âI wish weâd had more time before you had left me-â âIâm here now. I stay with Steve for longer and then go visit my family againâ, you interrupted him, pushing him gently away.
He let you do it, feeling a bit confused. This didnât feel like a dream. It felt weirdly real-but it couldnât be, could it? How did you find him then? Was the alcohol getting to him? Once again he even started to believe in losing the serum. Did it stop working?
âButâŚhow is it possible? Wait-letâs go inside-,â he pulled you into the cabin after realizing you were both still standing on the porch with the door wide open. For many reasons heâd rather be inside. Especially because he didnât want to let you go. Fuck hydra or any other opponents, he just didnât want to loose you all over again.
After a few minutes you two were sitting on the couch, with Steve touching you every chance he could get, even just a little bit like brushing his knuckles over your scaled hands. You were really here.
âMy family needed me, so I stay, hunt partner goneâŚmissing? Needed to find. Took long but I missed Steve, missed homeâ, you said, wrapping your arms around his neck and nuzzling your nose against his neck, nibbling gently at the skin there. âSteve home.â
And thatâs when it hit him.
All the time you hadnât talked about going home-all this time you had tried to tell him that HE was your home. Why? Were you feeling the same way? Were you alsoâŚin love with him? Could Mermaids fall in love? With a human? Your partner wasnât a lover but for hunting? Fuck. He hadnât understood half of the things you had tried to tell him when you had been back at the compound.
Holy shit. All this time you were affectionate because you actually liked him.
He had so many questions. But before he could ask them you pushed your head harder into his neck, clearly unhappy when Steve didnât appreciate it enough.
Steve couldnât stop himself from smiling as he pulled you onto his lap. He had missed your weird affectionate touches. It still troubled him to understand everything you were doing, but when your hand slowly pushed his shirt up, he understood you wanted it off. Not knowing why, but he wouldnât question your needs. He had learned it the hard way once, never again.
So he pulled it over his head, throwing it to the side. âBushy here tooâ, you giggled, brushing your hand over his chest hair, making Steve grin. You hadnât seen him shirtless before.
He had missed you so incredibly much. The way you talked and the little things you noticed that were so normal to him, yet you showed him how different everything for you and him was.
You were from two completely different worlds, yet reunited becauseâŚ.of love? Steve knew you had fallen for you, but still wasnât sure about your feelings.
âSteveâŚâ, your gentle whisper made him look up at you, as you had climbed onto his lap fully. âBe my mate.â
For a short second Steve once again thought he was dreaming. Mate? He knew it meat lover butâŚforever, more committed that just a simple relationship.
âYou want me to be your mate?â âOf course Steve. I just saidâ, you nuzzled your nose gently against his neck. âYou are mateâŚweâŚeh, connected. Like funny phone to big car for musicâ, it really was hard for him not to laugh at that.
He had missed you limited vocabulary, the funny and sometimes weird sentences-just like this one. But he understood. Party. At least enough to make him understand why he saw so many of your memories.
You two were connected.
He swallowed, not wanting his voice to crak as he agreed. âIâŚyes. Yes, god, yes. I want to be your mate foreverâŚâ, he mumbled, immediately being pushed onto the couch in a lying position while your nails scratched his arms. He definitely didnât expect to be jumped by you like a tree-literally.
When you wanted to open his pants he held your hands. âWait-we should talk first-â âwhy talk? We together again-want you, Steveâ, he felt himself blush at your words. To you it seemed so simple. SoâŚintuitive. Maybe thatâs exactly how it should be? Just let himself go. stop over complicating everything. Just be.
âletâs go to the bedroomâ, he whispered, being a bit nervous anyway.
You furrowed your eyebrows, wanting to mate with him as soon as possible to never let him go, but if he liked being in a different room youâd let him do whatever would make him more comfortable.
A little squeak escaped your lips as Steve picked you up and carried you to the bedroom. On the way there you nuzzled your nose into his neck, imagining sinking your teeth in the flesh there.
When he let you down on the bed, his hands slowly roamed over your waist down to the hem of the long shirt that you were wearing. With a quick motion it was on the floor, the too big shorts you were wearing followed.
With that you were naked.
Steve swallowed.
Once.
Twice.
He hadnât been close to a woman inâŚwellâŚquite the time.
Especially not a woman like you. A mermaid. Soft glimmer of your scales, covering your arms, partly your legs, up along your stomach and breasts. He was pretty sure you had them on your back, too.
You were soâŚ
Different.
You were a mythical creature. Something humans never knew existed.
And yet here you were, in his arms, his mate. His lover.
A nervous smile crept on his lips as he gently pushed you to lay down, before climbing over you. One of his hands brushed along your arms to your shoulder and neck,
With the other one he held himself up next to your head. âYouâre beautifulâ, the man whispered, pressing his lips gently to yours in a soft kiss.
You returned the kiss with a soft hum, fingertips ghosting up his bare chest, tracing the contours of his warmth, the bit of hair thereâŚhis humanity. Things mermen didnât have.
But then you did something that made Steve freeze-pressing your face to the crook of his neck, gills fluttering open against his skin. It wasnât new for you to press your gills or face to his neck-but never like that. Never letting them flutter open, completely vulnerable.
Steve could feel the moisture of them, delicate like a sea flower blooming against his throat. It was a sensation unlike anything heâd ever known-soft and electric, intimate in a way deeper than touch.
You didnât seem to notice his shock, letting your hands push down his pants, till he kicked them off onto the floor. A happy hum escaped your throat as your hand brushed over his hard cock, still clothed but twitching at the gentle touch.
âWant you Steveâ, you whispered, already getting rid of his underwear. The corners of your lips twitched at your eagerness and he leaned over you, his hard cock brushing against your thigh. A gasp escaped his lips as he felt the cold scaled against his most sensitive skin. Soft, but cold. Different.
âI want you too sweetheartâ, he kissed lowered his lips to your gills, kissing them. You shivered beneath him, a soft, keening sound rising in your throat. It felt so good being kissed and touched there.
You shifted under him, wrapping your hand around his hardness before guiding him into your wetness, sighing as he pushed into you.
Steve couldnât stop himself from moaning, his body trembling a little bit. It felt different than with any partner before.
You were cool inside. Tight and wet, with a slow, yielding rhythm that moved like the tide. Steve groaned, gripping the sheets beside your head, trying not to lose himself too fast. Everything about this felt sacred. Too much, too good. Still feeling like a dream. He felt lost already.
Your body wrapped around his, your nails digging into his back, not to hurt-but to hold. You met his movements with instinctive rhythm, hips rising to his in gentle pulses. Not rushed. Just two beings becoming one.
It was connection. Mating.
When you leaned into his neck again, he gasped, your gills fluttering wildly as you moaned against his skin, your sharp teeth grazing his skin. Steveâs whole body shivered.
He didnât know why but something inside him made him push into your touch more, into your teeth, asking for it. Wanting it.
So you let your teeth sink into his flesh. Not harsh. Not to hurt him. But enough for him to feel it and have the skin break-your teeth pressing into skin, anchoring yourself to him. He gasped, body jerking, as a strange, warm tingling pulsed outward from where your bite sank in. It wasnât painful. He wasnât scared.
It wasâŚ.comforting. It felt right,
it was right.
âYou are mineâ, you whispered into his ear, kissing below his ear, down to his neck and over the tingling mark.
But you werenât finished. Your claws dragged slowly down his back, then to his arms and along them, scratching his skin. Not deep. Just enough to raise his blood to the surface, to leave him tingling. Marked. Claimed. It felt just like with the beat. No fear, only comfort.
He dropped his head against your shoulder, âIâm yours, foreverâ, he gasped, his body feeling on fire-in a good way.
Steveâs lungs were filled with a unknown smell, like sea but sweeter andâŚâdo you smell that?â, he whispered, making you press his face closer to your neck. âMeâŚmateâ, you didnât know how to explain it with your limited words. Explain to him that this is your scent, only for your mate to feel.
It grew stronger with your pleasure which Steve noticed, making him crave it more, but also bringing him closer to his own high. It made him dizzy, his grip on you tightening.
Steve kissed you then, desperate and tender, his hand cradling your cheek like you were something precious. And maybe you were-something not quite of this world, but his all the same.
When you finally fell still beneath him, reaching your high, gills fluttering with each shallow breath, you pulled him close and pressed his face to the spot where your scent lingered strongest-along your collarbone, behind your ear, at your gills.
Itâs all Steve needed to reach his high, so intense he couldnât hold himself anymore, letting you carry his weigh, which you didnât seem to mind, wrapping your arms and legs around him, putting and clicking quietly, happy.
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, âwhat ifâŚâ-> flood my inbox! I love reading your thoughts
Taglist: @jamneuromain @buckystevelove @katzvelvet @feltonswifesworld87 @mylifeispainandiloveit @kneelforloki @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bollzinurmouth @lilsiz @rogersbarber @hawkeyes-queen @felicity-lemons-thoughts @magnificentsaladllama wanna be tagged? Be active by reblogging and leaving feedback! Iâll remove those who arenât active
You found the cabin three weeks before the Fourth of July, tucked deep in the woods past where the road turned to a muddy track and the trees took over the whole view. It had no cell reception and no cable. The porch creaked. The bed was rather small and youâd have to heat up the water to take a shower. But the silence? The silence was exactly what you had been looking for.
When you told Steve you had plans for his birthday this year, he looked at you like youâd just told him someone planned to attack him-you didnât blame him. Every year, people tried to do something-tried to surprise him, tried to celebrate, tried to do what they thought made sense on the birthday of Captain America.
But you werenât celebrating Captain America.
You were celebrating your boyfriend.
You were celebrating Steve.
⸝
You drove up on the 3rd, waiting in your car for him to pack his bag into the trunk and sitting into the passenger seat-something that happened rarely. Somehow it made Steve nervous, especially since you havenât told him where you were taking him.
He cleared his throat. His voice stayed low, soft with that Brooklyn warmth, that slight accent, he only really let out when he was with you.
âDonât tell me you booked a spa or something,â he joked.
You smiled without turning your head. âYou really think Iâd take you to a spa and let all those pretty ladies touch you?â, you both chuckled at that and Steve placed his hand on your thigh, âyouâre the only pretty lady I wanna be touched by.â
It made you smile, because you knew.
⸝
That night, you sat together on the porch in the hush of the woods, the quiet rustle of the leaves, stars blinking open one by one. You had asked him if he wanted a drink, maybe something from Thors Asgardian liquor-but he denied. He preferred hot cocoa, even though it was a warm evening. But he enjoyed it that way. He held it with both hands, sweater sleeves pushed up.
You watched him. Even took a few pictures when he wasnât looking. He seemed soâŚat peace. It was something he deserved. Just some peace.
âI used to love the Fourth,â he said after a long stretch of silence after you leaned your head against his shoulder, eyes on the sky. âWhen I was a kid, the parades in Brooklyn were the best part of the summer. My mom would lift me up so I could see the floats. Fireworks scared me even then, but I thought they were beautiful.â
You didnât interrupt. You let him speak when he was ready. Always. Which didnât happen often. He hated opening up, even to you. It took a lot of courage and you were proud he was doing it now. He was insecure about trusting. Everyone he trusted was torn away from him-his mom, Bucky, the Howlies, Peggy.
âItâs different now,â he murmured. âThey donât sound like celebration anymore. JustâŚnoise. RemindersâŚlike explosions.â
You lifted your head, looking up at him with a soft glimmer in your eyes, your hand finding his knee and resting there like a quiet anchor. âI know.â
He turned to look at you, blue eyes soft in the low light. âSo thatâs whyâŚyou did this for me?â
You nodded, gently kissing his cheek. âYes, sweetheart. I wanted your birthday to be special this yearâ, you whispered.
Steve leaned down, pressed a kiss to the top of your head. âYouâre the only thing in this whole damn world that makes it feel manageable sometimes.â
⸝
On the Fourth, you made pancakes in the little kitchen letting him sleep in for the first time inâŚwhat felt like forever. Of course you woke him up with more than just breakfast in bed. A bit moreâŚworshipping him, making sure to make this day perfect.
He opened your gift after breakfast-a sketchbook, leather-bound, the good kind, his name engraved on the leather.
You went on a walk together, walking around the woods, enjoying the sounds of nature and watching birds, even having a small picnic where Steve sketched a bit while you sunbathed.
After getting back into the cabin you put on some music using an old record player-that Steve even had to fix, since you didnât really know how to use it. It was the first time that Steve was able to make fun of you about not knowing how to use something, since usually it was him who had to be taught how to use new devices.
He held you close as you two moved to the music. At some point Steve even hummed the songs he recognised.
Later, you curled up in bed with the windows cracked open. Somewhere far off in the distance, muffled thunder of fireworks came rolling through the trees, but barely enough to stir the night air. âHappy Birthday, my princeâŚâ
He buried his face in your neck and whispered, âThank you.â You didnât need to see him to know he was blushing.
And you held him a little tighter, kissing the top of his head as he cuddles into your chest, pressing soft kisses to your skin, gentle and tender, not in a way to indicate something. Just to enjoy the closeness between you two. âOf course my loveâŚI love you Steve.â
Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated! My inbox is always open, tho I canât promise when Iâm gonna start writing more again<3 but if Iâll like an idea I might check it out and think of something :)
A/N: hi:) Iâm really sorry for not posting. I canât promise when Iâm gonna update any of my wips, for now I just wanna try to write some short one shots and drabbles again.
Warnings: none? Itâs rather fluff, implied smut maybe
After watching a few TikTokâs you couldnât stop yourself from buying something new.
It wasnât something necessary.
Not even the slightest.
But at the same time you couldnât stop your curiosity.
Would pheromones really work like they did on all those TikTokâs?
Would it even affect a super soldier?
Only a few days later youâve received your package. Just a small little carton, Steve didnât even ask what it was, being so used by you buying always some random little decor or things for yourself.
Your first thought was to use the perfume immediately-but then you decided otherwise.
You waited till you finally went shopping together, walking along the aisles with scented candles. âSteve could you please go and grab a shopping basket?â, I smiled at him, pecking his cheek. He nodded, immediately grinning at the gentle kiss.
After his back disappeared behind the shelves you took out the little perfume bottle and sprayed the sides of your neck and your wrists, bringing your hand to your nose youâd thought a strong sweet smell would hit you butâŚ.you couldnât barely feel the new scent.
It wasnât bad, like a simple body mistâŚyou thought It would be better.
Well, maybe you got scammed, maybe you used an untrusted website, who knows.
Just when you put away the bottle Steve appeared around the corner, smiling brightly at you, âhere you goâ, he grinned, holding out the basked, inside a small plush teddy bear holding a heart with "I love youâ. Chuckling you stood on your tippy toes to give him a peck on his cheek and-
He sniffed your cheek. âYou smell goodâ, the bond mumbled, making you smirk. âIâm sure it might be also because weâre surrounded by the scented candlesâ, you smiled at your boyfriend, not believing heâd smell the pheromones since the smell was too faint in your opinion.
Slightly confused he turned to the shelf, grabbing one of the baby pink candles, smelling it. He repeated this action a few times, grabbing various candles in different colours, with different scents and- he placed his hands on his hips. âNo. Itâs not the candlesâ, he leaned down to you again, this time smelling your neck.
âWow, itâs-wow, new perfume?â, he mumbled in your neck, pressing his nose further against your skin, sniffing you. âYes, Steve, careful Iâll trip-â, I chuckled when he leaned his body more against you.
âItâs amazing-why didnât you use it before-â, he was interrupted by his own loud sniffing as he breathed in the smell, grabbing your wrists when you lifted your hand to his face. âItâs with pheromones. I just bought it a few days agoâŚsaw it on tiktokâ, you explained while watching him press his nose against your wrist.
âI think Iâm getting a bonerâ, said Steve suddenly, his face turning a dark red as he looked down at himself.
And he was right. He had a big tent in his jeans, âoh god Steve behave yourselfâ, you scolded him quietly, watching as he grabbed the basket, holding it in front of himself.
âWeâre going home-â âitâll go away in a few seconds Steve-â, he rolled his eyes at my words. âYeah I know but I wanna go home. Now. I want us to go home to do things that I donât wanna say out loudâ, he raised his eyebrows, making you understand his intentions. âYouâre such a dork-â âyou bought pheromones, what can I say, theyâre affecting me.â
Grinning, you walked with him to the exit but before you left, you pulled him to a cashier. At his scolding gaze you shrugged. âI want that teddy bearâ, you winked.
Moments later you sat in the car, with Steve in the passenger seat, which was a rare sight.
Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated! My inbox is always open, tho I canât promise when Iâm gonna start writing more again<3 but if Iâll like an idea I might check it out and think of something :)
A/N: Another chapter!:) itâs been a while I know. Iâm also working on a reader x Steve one shot. Hopefully Iâll manage to finish it soon too!đĽ°
Pairing: SilverFoxSteve Rogers x CollegeStudentBuckyBarnes
Warnings: Brock being an ass, toxic behaviour?, gaslighting?
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated â¤ď¸ (and Iâm like literally begging for feedback đŠđŠđ¤Ł)
Bucky barely slept that night.
Every time he closed his eyes, Alpineâs absence gnawed at his chest. The sound of rain against the window only made it worse. She hated storms. She was probably curled up somewhere, scared, alone.
Beside him, Brockâs steady breathing filled the room.
Bucky turned, looking at him in the dim light. Brock had been⌠irritated. Sure, losing a pet wasnât the end of the world, but Alpine wasnât just a pet. She was family. Bucky had thought Brock understood that, but the exhaustion in his voice, the way he had snapped at him, made him wonder.
Maybe Brock just wasnât good with emotions. Maybe Bucky was too much.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and curled in on himself, trying to shake the gnawing feeling in his gut, managing to fall asleep from exhaustion, but not for long. Definitely not in a peaceful sleep.
Bucky woke up with an ache in his chest. Not a sharp pain, but something dull and persistent. Like an old bruise that never quite healed. He reached for Alpineâs usual spot at the foot of the bed, his fingers brushing against cold sheets.
Right. She was still gone.
His stomach twisted. Sheâd never run off like this before. What if she was hurt? What ifâ
âBabe, can you not start with this again?â Brockâs groggy voice interrupted his thoughts. Bucky tensed. âWhat?â Brock sighed, rolling over onto his back. âThe cat. You were literally crying about it all night. I get that youâre sad, but you need to chill.â
Those words were like a knife to his chest. Or back. Rather his back. He definitely hadnât expected to hear such words from his lover.
Bucky sat up, gripping the blanket. âSheâs my family, Brock. Sheâsâsheâs all I have.â âOh my god,â Brock groaned, rubbing his face. âAre you seriously saying that? Like Iâm not lying right here?â
Bucky opened his mouth, then closed it. He didnât even know what to say. Why would Brock be so rude? He sounded more jealous than actually caring.
âSheâs a cat, Bucky. Sheâll show up or she wonât. Either way, you donât need to act like the world is ending. Grow up, sheâs just an animal.â
The words were like a slap.
Something about the way Brock said itâso dismissive, so impatientâmade Buckyâs skin crawl.
And for the first time, he thought: I donât think he loves me the way I need to be loved.
Which he really hadnât expected to think about Brock like that-especially not so soon into their relationship.
He shook those thoughts away. Maybe he was too sensitive.
Bucky looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. Maybe Brock just didnât get it. Maybe he wasnât a pet person. That didnât make him a bad boyfriend⌠right?
Right?
While making himself a coffe, his phone rang with a message, the screen lighting up, Alpines picture lighting up.
>> Good morning, Iâm happy to tell you I found your cat. The number and address was on its collar. ( great idea to do so:)) Iâll bring your gem back in no time, hope youâre home at 5 pm. - Rogers <<
Bucky stared at this message for what felt like eternity.
Alpine was alive.
And just when he wanted to type in a message, the three dots appeared, signaling that the other person was typing-and then a picture.
There she was, Alpine on someoneâs lap, her paws spread out on the manâs lap and looking up at the person with big eyes.
>> Iâve never been a cat guy, but she really does seem sweet. Especially looking up at my sandwich.<<
Bucky had to swallow down his tears of happiness. No, fuck that, he can cry if he wants to, so he does. âBrook sheâs okayâ, said Bucky hurrying into the bedroom, shaking brooks shoulder, who was once again asleep. âGood, now let me sleep and keep quietâ, the man hissed, making Bucky lower his head. Could he be a bit happier for him?
__
He had been running on autopilot all day, pretending like this wasnât a bad idea. Like he wasnât about to come face to face with someone he had discarded like trash.
Steve wasnât sure why he was standing in front of the door for the past few minutes. Itâs like he couldnât bring himself to knock.
He had told himself he would drop the cat off, say a quick she wandered into my place, and leave. No need for small talk. No need for anything else.
So why was his heart beating like a fucking drum against his ribs?
It was a complete mistake. He shouldâve let someone else bring this damn cat back home. He shouldâve just dropped the cat off at a shelter. Let someone else deal with it. But something had tugged at him when he saw the name on the tag.
His jaw tightened. What was he even going to say? âHey, remember me? The guy who used you and threw you away? Hereâs your cat. Hope youâre doing well.â
He exhaled through his nose. Maybe Bucky had moved on. Maybe he wouldnât even care. Maybe Steve was the only one still thinking about that night. Well, not that he was missing him or anything like that. It was just a one time thing.
Before he could talk himself out of it, he knocked. A few seconds passed. Then the door swung open.
And there he was.
Bucky looked⌠different. Not bad. Just⌠different.
His hair was longer, his face slightly thinner. But his eyesâthose sharp, striking blue eyesâwere exactly the same.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The world outside the apartment was movingâcars honking, footsteps echoing in the hallâbut inside this little bubble of time, everything stood still. Then Buckyâs gaze dropped to the bundle of white fur in Steveâs arms.
âAlpine,â he whispered.
And just like that, the bubble burst.
Bucky reached for her, and Alpine let out a soft, almost scolding meow as she was scooped into his arms. Steve should have left then. He should have turned and walked away. Alpine meowed, pressing her little head into Buckys chin, and Bucky let out a shaky laughâhalf relief, half disbelief. âOh my god, I thoughtââ He cut himself off, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment.
Then his gaze was back on Steve.
He was still looking at him, and Steve could see it nowâbehind the relief of getting his cat back, there was something else. The reliefed face hardened.
Anger. Hurt.
And something deep in Steveâs chest twisted at the sight of it. But why? Itâs not like anything of this mattered. It didnât matter how Bucky felt about him, he shouldnât be caring about that. About his feelings.
âWhat the fuck are you doing here?â
There it was.
Steve cleared his throat, forcing himself to keep his voice even. âShe climbed through my window.â
Bucky scoffed. âYeah? And you decided to bring her yourself? You couldnâtâI donât knowâsend her back in a cab?â Bucky knew it sounded ridiculous but he was justâŚhurt.
Steve exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. âLook, I justââ âWho the hell is at the door?â
Brockâs voice came from inside, followed by the sound of footsteps. Steve barely had time to process it before another man appeared next to Buckyâtall, broad, territorial.
Steve knew that look.He had given it to plenty of guys before.
Brockâs eyes flicked between Steve and Bucky, then narrowed. âWhoâs this?â Bucky tensed. âHeââ âIâm no one,â Steve cut in. âJust returning the cat.â
Brock studied him for a second immediately connecting the dots from Buckys explanations and descriptions, he let out a short, humorless laugh. âRight. So youâre the guy who fucked him over.â
Bucky flinched. Steveâs jaw tightened.
âBrock, letâs notââ Bucky started, but Brock just pulled him closer, slinging an arm around his shoulder. âNah, letâs,â Brock said, his tone mockingly light. âI mean, you basically traumatized him, right? Just used him up and tossed him out?â
Steve stared at him. He knew he deserved the angerâhell, maybe he even deserved to be humiliated like this. Even though he usually didnât care about hurting other peopleâŚright now it felt bad. It mattered. He knew he should feel anything when seeing the coupleâŚ
But there was something in the way Brock was gripping Buckyâs shoulder, something in the way Bucky wasnât meeting anyoneâs eyes, that made Steveâs stomach churn. Brock smirked. âSo whyâd you really come here, huh? Realized you fucked up and wanted a second chance?â
Steve exhaled slowly. âI just brought the cat back.â
âWell, thanks for doing the bare fucking minimum.â
Silence stretched between them.
Steve wasnât sure what made him do itâmaybe it was instinct, maybe it was the way Bucky was practically shrinking under Brockâs gripâbut he locked eyes with Bucky and said, âYou happy?â
Buckyâs breath caught. And that was all Steve needed to see. Not that he caredâŚ.he just liked to be right. And he was right about that Brock guy.
He nodded once, stepping back. âTake care of her.â
Then he turned and walked away.
He didnât look back. He wanted to, but he didnât.
But if he had, he would have seen the way Buckyâs fingers tightened around Alpine.
As if he was holding on to the only thing that still felt safe.
When Steve walked down the hall he could hear the door being forcefully shut.
Bucky barely had time to lock the door before Brock was on him. âWhat the hell was that?â Brock snapped, coming unbelievably close to him.
Bucky didnât answer. He just bent down, placing Alpine gently on the couch, running his fingers through her fur like it was the only thing grounding him to this moment.
âI asked you something,â Brock said, louder this time. âYou gonna answer or just ignore me like a damn child?â Bucky flinched, hand freezing mid-stroke over Alpineâs back. âWhat are you talking about?â He really didnât know why Brock behaved the way he behaved-how angry he seemed.
Brockâs laugh was sharp. âOh come on. Donât play dumb. You looked like you were about to cry when lover boy showed up. And donât think I didnât catch that little moment. The way he looked at you? You looked right back like a kicked puppy.â âBrock, Iââ Bucky didnât know what to say. Didnât know how to react-Steve was no lover boy to him. Steve was someone who hurt him, used his nativity and hopeful thinking.
âYouâre still into him, arenât you?â
âNo!â Buckyâs voice cracked, but he forced it down. âIâm not. He justâhe found Alpine. Thatâs all. Thereâs nothing to be into or over-we werenât a thing. It was a one night standâ, and god did it hurt to say that. It wasnât just a one night stand. Not to him. He had hoped for more-but maybe it was just wishful thinking, Steve was much older and turns out with a whole life, marriage, kids and everythingâŚmaybe he shouldnât be sad about what had happened? He probably wouldnât want to have an affair with a married man. And he wouldnât be able to trust Steve if theyâd ever-
âYeah? Then why are you shaking like that?â
Bucky hadnât even realized he was. His fingers trembled against Alpineâs fur. He curled them into a fist and stood. âIâm not shaking,â he lied.
Brock stepped in closer, his presence all-consuming, his fingers wrapping around Buckys arm tightly. Bucky flinched, looking back at Brock. He tilted his head, smiling, but there was nothing warm about it. âI donât like feeling like Iâm second best, Bucky. You said you were over him.â âI am.â Buckys voice was weak.
âThen act like it.â The grip around Buckys arm tightened, making him swallow. Some part of him wasâŚscared. Scared Brock might squeeze more. Or do something worse-but heâd never do that? He was just mad.
There was no fight in Buckyâs voice when he said, âOkay.â
Brock stared a second longer before turning away. âGood.â
He disappeared into the bedroom without another word, leaving Bucky frozen. His hands are still shaky. Alpine meowed softly and pawed at his leg. Bucky sat down slowly beside her again, whispering, âYouâre the only one whoâs ever been happy to see meâŚâ He watched her for a bit longer. âOr youâre just hungry, eh?â
Moments later Brock walked out of the bedroom, changed into some nicer clothes. âIâll be home late, donât need to wait for me-â âbut-I thought weâd have dinner together?â Brock rolled his eyes. âYeah, well, plans change.â He shrugged. âYou were busy sobbing over your cat and your ex. I figured youâd want space.â
Buckyâs stomach twisted. âSteveâs not myâhe just brought Alpine back. I told you already.â Brock raised an eyebrow. âRight. Just a coincidence he shows up here looking like that. And you looked like you were about to cry over him.â
âI-Thatâs not fair.â
âYou know whatâs not fair?â Brockâs voice sharpened. âMe standing by while you cry over some dude who clearly still gets to you. You made me look like a fucking idiot.â
âI didnât mean toââ
âBut you did. And Iâm not gonna sit around and play second best, Bucky.â
And Brock left, leaving Bucky feeling like the asshole, even though he knew he didnât do anything wrong. But why did he feel like he did? Why did he feel so bad andâguilty? For no real reason. Itâs not his fault that Alpine walked into Steveâs home.
Yet there he was, texting Brock he was sorry.
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated â¤ď¸
A/N: Damn, I actually feel bad for not posting anything. Idk whatâs happening đŁ I wanna come back gosh. đŽâđ¨đŽâđ¨ so for now a small update of the devil I desire:) Iâll try to update some more drabbles in the future etc:3
Pairing: SilverFoxSteve Rogers x CollegeStudentBuckyBarnes
Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal, cheating, not Peggy friendly, not Steve friendly, homophobia (from Steve:(), international homophobia (also Steve.), yeah Steve is a total dick, donât hate me
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated â¤ď¸
âBucky you have to come out at some point, you know?â, sighed Wanda while leaning against the bathroom door, in which Bucky had locked himself in since this morning. âNo. I donât want toâ, he hiccuped back, sitting on the other side of the door.
He didnât want to face anyone, especially the realisation that Steve didnât care about him at all. More than that. He just used him for his needs. Bucky felt humiliated, used and dirty.
And stupid.
He just felt incredibly stupid for all that.
But Steve seemed soâŚtrustworthy. How could Steve turn out to be so different? And how could Bucky be so naĂŻve to believe him. All the lies he had told him. Everything just so heâd sleep with him.
âBucky pleaseâŚcome out, Iâm getting worriedâ, Wanda interrupted his train of thoughts. She was right. He should come out, talk to her but he was embarrassed to admit how stupid he was.
Sighing he turned they door key, immediately feeling how Wanda opened the door, making Bucky fall onto the living room floor.
Wandas apologising face came into his view and he swallowed hard, knowing it was time to open up.
âHeâŚheâs married. And he used me. Just for funâ, Bucky hiccuped.
Waking up in Steveâs arms was a great feeling. He felt his warm arms around his body, Steveâs solid chest against his back andâŚslightly hard cock. Excitement immediately rose in him, arousal too.
A sleepy smile crept onto his lips as he slowly turned around, placing a soft kiss on his lips. Could this be his future? Lazy sex in the morning? Waking up in a tight hug? Surrounded by the smell of Steve and soft silky sheets?
But as soon as Steve opened his eyes Buckys little dream of a domestic relationship broke.
âFuckâ, was the first thing Steve said, looking at the digital clock next to his bed before moving in lighting speed. It was only 9 am? Maybe he had to go to work? Even though Steve had said heâd want to eat breakfast together, have a coffeeâŚand it was also Sunday. He wouldnât be working on a Sunday morning at 9 am, right?
âYou have to go. Now.â
With that Bucky got even more confused, sitting up. âDo you have to leave or-?â, before he could finish his question Steve threw his clothes at him, while Bucky sat up, âno. Go. Fuck off. Go home or whatever. You canât be hereâ,
âI donât get it-â âoh my god, Iâm a speaking in a different language? Donât you understand me? Get.the.fuck.out. You were supposed to leave after we finished. God damn it. I never fell asleepâ, the last sentence was only a quite mumble to himself.
Steve wasnât even looking at Bucky while he was putting on his jeans. He didnât even notice Buckys teary eyes. The trembling lips. He didnât give a damn about him.
But he had promised-
âIt was all just sweet talking you into my bed, donât you get it! I wanted to fuck a tight young ass with a pretty face. You are one, Beckâ, even saying the wrong name showed how little Steve cared. He didnât even remember Buckys name. Ouch.
âLetâs talk about it-did something happen-?â Bucky tried to say something but steve only laughed coldly. âI canât believe it. You either dress now or Iâll throw you out naked, I donât care. It was just for funâ, âbut you said-â âI said many things you wanted to hear, thatâs all. Now get the fuck out before my wife and kids come home and see you, you little fag.â
Bucky had no idea at what point he got up, but the next thing he felt was a painful tingle in his palm when he slapped Steve in the face.
They looked at each other for a second, Bucky now openly crying while quickly putting on his cloths and leaving the bedroom, immediately looking for the way out, not fully remembering where the frondoor was.
Bucky heard Steveâs steps behind him, so he glanced one last time at the man he had hoped to wake up every morning from now on, before slamming the door closed.
He probably imagined the hurt expression on Steveâs face.
âOh buckâŚ.â, Wanda whispered when Bucky told the whole story, wrapping his arms around him. At this point they were sitting in the living room on the couch, wrapped in a tight embrace and cozy blanket. âIâm so sorryâŚyou did nothing wrong-â âI shouldnât have trusted himâ, he interrupted her with a hiccup.
âNo, noâŚitâs not your fault. He is the one who lead you on. Heâs the one who did it all on purpose. He manipulated youâ, the woman whispered wisely, kissing Buckys tremble gently as he quietly cried into her shoulder.
Wandaâs arms were warm, but they didnât erase the cold sinking into Buckyâs bones. He let her hold him, let her rub slow circles into his back, but it didnât stop the memories from replaying like a broken tape.
The way Steve had looked at himâno recognition, no care, just mild annoyance, as if Bucky was an inconvenience in his bed rather than the man he had whispered sweet things to only hours before.
He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his forehead into Wandaâs shoulder. Maybe if he pressed hard enough, the memories would bleed out of him.
Bucky spent most of the day wrapped in the blanket, eating fast food and tons of ice cream before passing away on the couch late in the evening, tears still drying on his cheeks from all the crying over Steve.
Even though Steve had broken his heart the days passed and with every next morning the pain stopped to be so noticeable, till he completely stopped thinking about Steve. Well, not completely but it didnât affect his daily life anymore.
Heâd probably always hate himself for trusting a stranger, especially with such an important thing like his virginity, butâŚhe couldnât go back in time. At least it had been good, even if the heartbeat left a rip in his heart thatâd probably take a long time to heal. But life went on.
So after six months he finally managed to go on a date with a nice guy from grindr, Broke. From the start on the conversation was great, they talked about random stuff and also serious topics. It justâŚclicked.
After leaving the restaurant Broke walked him home, gave him a kiss goodbye at his door and went into the direction of his home, looking one last time at Bucky with a sweet smile.
Maybe this was how it shouldâve happened. Maybe he had to get his heart broken to meet someone whoâd treat him better.
Bucky invited Broke to his place after the sixth date. Even then nothing happened besides some making out and light touches. He felt comfortable with Broke. Bucky could tell he wouldnât be played this time. Not like Steve had played with his heart.
Even though he really tried not to think about him, he had to admit the older man still crept into his mind sometimes. Not that it surprised him. Steve was the one who took his virginity and then treated him so awfully, who wouldnât think back to that sometimes?
He told Broke about Steve after two more dates. He understood Bucky and promised not to rush him with intimacy.
They were officially together after the tenth date.
A month later they said the first âI love youâs, even though Bucky didnât feel the movie-like butterflies in his stomach, but he believed it might have been just a myth. The butterflies in the stomach probably didnât exist.
(He tried to ignore the memories of how his whole body had tingled when Steve had kissed him.)
Even though everything went smoothly, he could tell the happiness wouldnât last for much longer-and he was right.
Alpine disappeared.
âMaybe she just went out for a short walk? You know, to enjoy the weather-â âBroke, donât try to calm me down, I know sheâs not just out for a walk-she hates going outside! Besides, it's raining!â, argued Bucky, looking one more time into the little cat house she was usually sitting in.
Nope, still gone.
A sob escaped his lips. âWhat if-what if someone steals her? Or worse-a car runs-â âthen letâs go, weâll look for her.â
But they werenât lucky, even after two hours of looking for alpine everywhere.
âWhere did she go-Brock, what if-â âBaby, stop crying. Sheâll probably come back soonâ, Brock sighed, slowly getting annoyed at Buckys behavior. He understood the cat was important to him, but he just didnât want to listen more to Buckys whining.
âBut I canât go to sleep now-sheâs not home, sheâs not in her bed and she canât sleep outside-sheâll think I abandoned her-â âoh my god, shut up. Iâm tired. Itâs nearly ten pm and we were walking through the city for hours. I want to go to sleepâ, Brock hissed at Bucky, making the younger man's tears fall quicker.
A sighn left brocks lips as he pulled bucky into a hug, âsorryâŚim just tired. Weâll look for her tomorrow, promiseâ, with that he managed to pull Bucky with him to the bedroom, even though it was harder than he hoped.
Bucky watched as Brock took off his wet jacket, the annoyed expression still lingering deeply on his face. It made Bucky feelâŚuneasy. Something felt unsettling. Once again his thoughts were filled with the pain Steve had inflicted upon him, after having treated him like trash.
But Brock was different, so why was he so nervous?
Brock was steady. Brock was reliable. Brock didnât whisper empty promises into Buckyâs skin at night or make him feel like he was the center of the world only to discard him in the morning. No, Brock was nothing like Steve.
And yet, as Brock sighed in frustration and pulled him toward the bedroom, Bucky couldnât shake the unsettling feeling creeping up his spine.
He had expected gentleness. Reassurance. Instead, he got exasperation. The realization settled in his stomach like a stone.
Was he exhausting to love?
He knew he could be a lotâhe knew his emotions ran too deep, that he felt things in a way that overwhelmed people. But was that really so bad? Was it so wrong to want someone to care about the things that mattered to him?
He swallowed, forcing himself to let Brock pull him into bed. He lay awake long after Brock had turned away from him, staring at the ceiling, unable to shake the feeling that something was slipping through his fingers again.
It still hurt him to know his boyfriend didnât care about his cat. Alpine was the most important thing in his life, he couldnât lose her.
What Bucky didnât know is that the alpine was safely sitting in a stranger's living room, after having found an open window and climbed inside. Into the house of the man who called him once âbabyâ in the darkness of the night.
Comfortably sitting in a little boy's lap, being pet by him. â-I donât wanna go to bed yet, please! Dad I donât want toâ, he whined, while looking down at the cat and then back at his father. âHarrison Joseph Rogers, Iâm not gonna continue this discussion. I gave you thirty more minutes to pet the cat, but now itâs nine thirty and I want to see you in your bed in ten secondsâ, Steve said, crossing his arms.
He could see his son wanted to argue more, but he only furrowed his eyebrows, put the cat down and stomped to his room. âAs stubborn as his father-â ânot any less than his motherâ, Steve said when Peggy entered the living room. âTouchĂŠ.â
âBut now the more important questionâŚwhat do we do with the cat?â, asked Steveâs wife, placing a bowl of water onto the floor. They both watched as she drank. âIâll check the address tomorrow. Itâs not far from here so I can go there in between meetings. Tonight sheâll stay hereâŚitâs rainingâ, Steve petted the cats head. She was very sweet. Familiar in a wayâŚitâs like he had seen those blue eyes before.
He sat down on the couch, watching as the white creature walked over to him and jumped onto his lap. Even though he had never been a big cat person he scratched behind her ear, noticing the small old rip in it. She must have been though some stuff, but her new owner cared about her a lot. He could see it. This person must be worried sick since she ran away. âWho do you belong to sweetheartâŚ.â
He looked at the little badge at her collar. Alpine Barnes. Hm. It sounded familiarâŚ.
But he was probably imagining it. It was just a cat.
The longer he looked at the white animal, the more it reminded him of something. Someone.
A few pictures. A few funny outfits. A few tricks recorded.
Steveâs fingers absently stroked behind her ears, his mind elsewhere. The name on the collar nagged at something in the back of his head, an itch he couldnât quite reach.
He looked at the name again.
Alipne.
He knew that name.
A flash of somethingâblue eyes filled with tears, a trembling voice begging for an explanation.
Steve shifted uncomfortably. It had been six months. He hadnât thought about it in a while. At least, thatâs what he told himself.
But as he looked down at the white cat curled up in his lap, a cold weight settled in his chest.
Fate had a cruel sense of humor.
Taglist? If yes, please be active by leaving feedback and reblogging and let me know!:)
Flood my inbox if you have any questions or thoots!â¤ď¸
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated â¤ď¸
Could you write Bucky with the "never say that in bed again" Christmas bingo, and could you make it something kinda funny and cringe but still like a cute moment if that makes sense?
Santaâs Balls
A/N: thank you for this request. Itâs just a short drabble but Iâve been quite busy this weekend:) but I hope youâll still enjoy reading this little piece!:)
A/N: I hope youâll like it, requests are open but I canât promise the updates will be coming quickly since Iâm quite busy â¤ď¸
Reblogging, commenting and giving feedback is highly appreciated â¤ď¸
After the Christmas meal you watched a movie with the rest of the team that stayed at the compound, but it was already hard to concentrate on anything that played on the screen with Bucky's hand lingering on your thigh, his thigh rubbing your soft skin. The shorts you were wearing gave him enough access to tease you a bit, but not enough to actually touch you whereâd want it the most-besides you wouldnât want to do it with the others in the living room.
But it didnât stop Bucky from teasing you for 93 minutes, for as long as the movie was.
His fingers always brushing along your thighs, squeezing your meat lightly before letting his fingers dance along your skin.
Your heart was pounding. Your breath uneven. Your cunt throbbing.
So it was no surprise you grabbed his hand and pulled him from the couch as soon as the movie ended. âGood night yâall canât wait to open the presents tomorrowâ, you shouted from the hall to the others, already out of eyesight.
âYouâre such a teaseâ, you kissed him as soon as you entered your room, pushing him against the wall, wrapping your arms around his neck.
His hands landed on your waist, kissing you back as passionately as you did. A small grin crept on his lips, his hands roaming over your sides, pulling your shirt up and over your head, throwing it onto the floor.
âGod, Buck, I need you-â, you gasped, pulling him to the bed. Somewhere on the way to bed Bucky also lost his shirt and you your shorts.
Chuckling Bucky sat up, while you were already laying on your back, panting. âGive me a secondâ, and he disappeared into the bathroom.
Well.
Okay.
So you sat up, a bit impatient.
But it was definitely worth the wait when Bucky walked out of the bathroom, Santa costume on, boxershorts and vest with a hat on his head, a bit crooked. A laugh escaped your lips. âSanta Buck!â, you cheered, making the man also chuckle as he approached you, once again kissing you passionately.
The kissing became more intense, your hands pulling Bucky closer by holding onto the Santa vest. âFuck, I donât know how you manage to pull it off, but youâre so sexy as Santaâ, you mumbled, noticing a faint blush on Buckys cheeks as he started to kiss your neck, his hips pressing against you, his errection already noticeable.
You let your hands roam over his chest, pulling him closer, moaning as his hardness pressed against your heat.
A gasp escaped his lips when he felt your hand slid into his boxershorts, your fingers wrapping around his shaft, making him moan against your ear and he gently nibbled at your earlobe, âYou should jingle Santas balls to get a nice present, I know youâve been very n-â,
before he should finish whatever he was talking about you burst out laughing, pulling your hand from his pants.
âOh my god-Bucky, no, no donât you dare say that ever again in bed-â, you laughed, barely able to breathe. âPlease never say that in bed ever again.â You tried to calm down, but now also Bucky started laughing, his head as red as his Santa costume, while he thought back at his words.
âOkay-I get it. It was badâ, he mumbled a bit bashfully, hiding his face against your neck, while you wrapped your arms around his neck. âDonât feel embarrassed babyâŚit was just really funny. Now come on, give me santas balls to jiggle them-what will be my gift? A white Christmas?â, you teased him, hearing him groan against your neck.
Thank you for reading! Feedback and reblogs are highly appreciated! It motivates a lot:)
@rogersbarber @inlovewithchrisevans
Veras Updates @rogerswifesblog-updates - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
