⤷ thank you SO much for 1k followers, i love you all my babies :,) i've had this blog since i was 14 and was flabbergasted when i reached 200, but ONE THOUSAND OF YOU?? i'm so happy i could kiss all of you (and i might). i appreciate all of you who have shown me any support over the last 5 years, sooo it only felt right to give y'all what you want after my half a year hiatus (i apologize, i still love y'all) -junebug
⤷ so this is the run down ⁀➷
― for the next two/three weeks, i plan to publish two x reader fics a week OR a fic a week plus an additional on the weekends
― i'll give brief descriptions of each fic i've got lined up under code names, and they will be published over the course of the next two or three weeks
― all of the fics will be written and published!! your only job is to pick your favorite of the line up, and results will determine which order i write and post them
― the most popular two will be choose your ending (smut, fluff, and or angst)!! sooo, here's your options:
bucky barnes
‣ sunshine: no matter how sweet you are, something about you has always irked bucky. so he avoids you, but he's forced to confront his confusing feelings when its your life on the line.
steve rogers + bucky barnes
‣ cabin: bucky and steve both adore you, so they agree that whoever makes the first move gets you. but when you, steve, and bucky are trapped in a safe house post-mission due to a heavy snow storm, you get to the bottom of their 'plan,' and discover that maybe three isn't really a crowd.
‣ botanical: you've been with steve for a few weeks, and with things getting serious, he invites you to dinner with the team. you hang around more often after that, but the one problem is that steve's best friend, bucky, avoids you but praises you to steve.
steve rogers
‣ astronomy: you've been pining after steve for a year. after a party, the two of you hook up and lead a fwb relationship for weeks. he slowly stops coming around, and when you go to confess that you want more, you discover he found more in someone else.
‣ clouded: after tony's funeral and steve's reluctant return, you move out of state for fresh air. you and steve disagreed a lot despite his lasting crush on you, and you leaving only further strained your friendship. so, when you return for a month to stay with sam, bucky, and steve, tension gets high as steve sees you date around.
‣ messenger: with your past relationship trouble and steve's ability to fluster easily, you and steve's fairly new relationship is struggling with intimacy. don't worry, though, nat sniffed it out like a hound and plans to fix it with lacy images sent from you after some pleading.
steve rogers + lloyd hansen
‣ thread: on the run after a mission gone horribly wrong, you and steve stumble across lloyd and manage to save him from six. much to steve's dismay, you invite him to hide out with the two of you, and somehow lloyd weaseled his way into your heart and your relationship.
lloyd hansen
‣ thunder: you are lloyd's woman through and through; you take care of him and he provides for you, you nurture him so he pampers you. you're the only one who's ever understood him, and you're the only one he's ever been ever tolerate. he adores you, you're practically his prized possession, but he does not love you.
well, go ahead, choose your fav! ⁀➷
⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆
sunshine (bb)
cabin (sr, bb)
botanical (sr, bb)
astronomy (sr)
clouded (sr)
messenger (sr)
thread (sr, lh)
thunder (lh)
Voting ended onAug 3, 2024
again, thank you to all of you! i love you guys <3
my dream as a fanfic writer is to write a story which people want to talk to me about and send asks about afterwards and discuss things the characters did and the symbolism and meanings behind certain lines and I'll be all "hehe thanks" but irl I'll be in literal tears because I wrote something that means something to someone
It occurs to me that one of the reasons Steve isn’t worried about getting killed isn’t just his courage and strength of will, but also the fact that he’s lived with the idea of death all of his life. During his life, he’s dealt with the idea of dying young. He wants to make it worth it, make a difference.
Always funny when Stucky is in a ship tournament and everyone in the tags is telling people to vote for the other thing because we all hate the MCU now. I can assure you that Stucky shippers also hate the fucking MCU more than you can imagine
word count: 5.1k
summary: desperate for a cure for your blocked creative flow, you take a trip to the roof of your apartment to overlook the city for inspiration. that's where you meet Steve, discovering he's your new neighbor. needless to say, meeting him aids your motivation, and opens up the possibility of something more.
warnings: brief almost sexual encounter, swearing, four uses of 'y/n.'
Dull moonlight streams through the open window of your apartment, coating your studio room in a soft white tinge. The faint bustling of the city outside and the hum of your favorite vinyl record provide a constant, soothing backdrop. However, the familiar sounds do nothing to aid your frustration as you stand in front of your easel with a blank canvas on it.
Your brush hovers mid-air, desperate to pick up any color to put down on the clean slate. Yet, when you try to come up with anything to paint, you end up coming up with nothing at all. All inspiration and creativity have been slipping through your fingers like water for the last few weeks. You spent many hours of those last few weeks in your studio alone, and it's starting to feel pointless to even try anymore.
"Come on," you huff in irritation. "Give me something, anything."
Your phone buzzes in your pocket, breaking you out of your concentration. A groan escapes you as you pluck the phone out of the pocket of your painting apron. You crack a smile upon reading the notification, a text you'd gotten from your best friend, Elizabeth. She's urging you, yet again, to introduce yourself to the "hot guy," who just moved in across from you.
Elizabeth lives four doors down from you and has always taken it upon herself to tell you every time someone new moves in. The guy had only moved in last week, but she already insists that you two would be perfect together. How she knew that after only meeting him once, you weren't sure.
You respond with, "Liz, I've been in a creative crisis for three weeks. No time for 'hot guys' right now," before slipping your phone back into your apron. Your attention returns to your pitifully plain canvas as you mentally curse your idea-void brain.
After a few more minutes of nothing but frustration, you finally give up. You step away from your easel and sigh, deciding to go to the rooftop to relax. On most occasions, you would keep trying, but maybe some fresh air and raw sunlight could help you, you figure.
When you step out onto the rooftop, you can't help but be amazed by the view of the city. The skyline stretches out before you in muted blue and black hues, and the moon bathes everything in a cold, white glow. The city's constant motion, the people and cars below, are a stark contrast to the stillness that has enveloped your artistic abilities.
You plant yourself in a chair that overlooks the city in the corner of the rooftop. Over the last two years that you've lived here, said corner has managed to accumulate quite a bit of furniture. Now it's decorated perfectly with an outdoor couch, two chairs, a small table, a few potted plants, and globe string lights that stretch across the railing. The quiet oasis has often provided you with solace, and you hope for it to do just that tonight as well.
Leaning back in the chair, you close your eyes and allow the gentle breeze to caress your face. The cool air seeps into your skin, and for a moment, you feel a sense of peace. Distant noises and the bright lights of the surrounding buildings have become a familiar comfort for you. In fact, it's so soothing that you've gotten lost in thought, not hearing the door creak open or the footsteps approaching you.
"Mind if I join you?" a deep, but kind, voice asks, effectively startling you out of your tranquil thoughts.
Your eyes open immediately and land on the man standing beside you. He's fairly tall with blonde hair that almost looks like honey, and he has crystalline blue eyes that make your heart skip when your gaze meets his.
Instantly, you realize that you've never seen him around the building before. So, at first, you don't recognize him, but he seems familiar. Then it suddenly connects; he's Steve Rogers, meaning that Captain America himself is your new neighbor. And Elizabeth had definitely left out that tiny detail on purpose. She knows you don't care for titles or status, but it's still a little jarring.
"Oh, no, not at all," you respond meekly.
He offers a warm smile as he sits in the chair beside you. "I'm Steve," he says, his eyes lingering on you.
"Y/n," you introduce yourself. "You must be the hot new guy."
Heat makes its way to your face as soon as the words leave your mouth. Your gaze drops to your lap, suddenly feeling nervous under his friendly stare. Steve chuckles heartily, and it puts you at ease a little, a smile growing on your face.
"I'm so sorry, those were not my words," you explain.
When you look back up at him, he has an eyebrow cocked up and a slight smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. Embarrassment crawls back into you as you realize, yet again, you'd said something that was easily misinterpreted.
"I did not mean it like that. I meant that my friend, Elizabeth, said you were hot, not that I did- not that you're not attractive, but-" You cut yourself off with a groan, briefly covering your face with your hands out of mortification. "She has been trying to get me to meet you, in her words, "the new hot guy," since you moved in. She's convinced that we're soulmates or something. Now, please say something before I embarrass myself again."
Steve laughs a soft, genuine laugh, finding your rambling nothing short of adorable and endearing. "No worries, I'm flattered by your friend's enthusiasm," he reassures you, "But for the record, I don't think that I'm the attractive neighbor here."
Picking up on what he's insinuating, you shift in your chair slightly as you speak. "I- I...uhm... Thank you," you stammer nervously.
He hums to acknowledge your appreciation before leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped together on his chest. "So, what're you doing up here by yourself? Just enjoying the view?" he inquires, his attention switching to the city overlook in front of you.
"I guess you could say that. Really just having a creative block, and this is the only place that distracts me from the frustration."
"I get that, it is beautiful out here," he says in agreement. "What kind of art do you make?"
"Out of all the creative hobbies, how'd you know I make art?"
"I just had a feeling. You've got a certain...energy, I guess, that seeps from you."
"The stereotypical miserable and struggling artist energy?" you joke, chuckling momentarily. "I usually just do paintings, mainly on canvas or paper, but sometimes I do little sketches."
Steve's interest piques as he listens to you talk. He sits up some, his head turned to you, giving you his full attention. "That sounds fascinating. I used to dabble in drawing myself, so I'd love to see your work sometime."
A small smile forms on your face. "I'd be more than happy to show you. Once I get out of this little rut, that is," you respond. "Why did you stop drawing? Do you not enjoy it anymore?"
His gaze shifts away briefly, his expression turning more contemplative as he speaks, "I guess life just got in the way at some point. When you're caught up in a world that's moving so fast, sometimes you lose touch with things that used to bring you joy."
You listen intently as he speaks, his words resonating deeper than you can explain. Even though you've clearly led and lived two different lives, you feel a sense of instant connection based on the few words he just spoke. More than anything, though, you both admire and appreciate his vulnerability with you- a total stranger to him. His openness makes you all the more comfortable around him.
"I understand what you mean," you reply empathetically, "sometimes you just need a little spark, something that reminds you how much you love your passion, y'know? Maybe you'll find that soon."
"I hope so," Steve says with an appreciative smile, his eyes locking with yours once again. "Or maybe I've already found it."
"Already? Please do share the secret as to how you did that so fast."
"Well," he starts, "she's sitting right next to me."
His words linger in the air and a warmth spreads through your chest, igniting something that had been dormant for a long time. You chuckle for a moment in an attempt to brush off the nerves pooling in your stomach. After a second or two, you build up the courage to speak again.
"You're quite the charmer there, aren't you? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were flirting with me, Steve," you tease with a playful glint in your eyes.
He responds to your teasing with a chuckle of his own. "I suppose I am being a tad forward, but I just couldn't resist. Is it working?"
Your cheeks feel just as warm as your chest, and you find yourself caught in his magnetic gaze. "I would say it is, but you are my first real conversation in weeks, so take that as you will," you admit, a shy smile spreading across your face.
"I'll take that as a win, then," he replies with an endearing grin.
Time seems to go by quickly as you two continue to talk. Sometimes you both go off on random little tangents, straying off-topic before finding your way back. You talk about what got you into art in the first place, your time in school, and how you ended up in the city. Typically you're more reserved than most, but his genuine curiosity about you makes you feel chatty. It feels like you've known him for years rather than a short hour and a half.
He's more of a listener than a talker, you observe. He mostly sympathizes with you, occasionally sharing related moments from his past, and sometimes he'll briefly mention his job. Nevertheless, you don't mind him hardly speaking of his work, because even though it's interesting, it's not what you care about most. And luckily for you, the simple human under the heroic title is much more interesting, and has more in common with you in terms of interests, beliefs, and hobbies.
Steve sits straight up in his chair and breaks the comfortable silence that had settled, "I think this might be the most intriguing and honest conversation I've had in a while. So, thank you."
"It's no problem, Steve. And thank you for helping me get some of my inspiration back, and for listening to me ramble," you reply softly.
He turns his gaze to you, his eyes twinkling under the lights and his expression warm. "I'm glad I could be of some help. I must say, your company has been the highlight of my day- my month, really. Maybe your friend was right, but I think I was the one meant to meet you and not the other way around," he muses truthfully.
"And I think you may be that spark I needed," you smile, inspiration now running freely through you, "I suppose I'll go try my hand at that canvas again now."
You rise to your feet, eager to see what comes from your newfound muse. "It's been nice meeting you, and I'd love to talk longer, but if I lose this ounce of motivation then I just might so crazy."
Steve also gets up from his seat, a genuine fondness in his eyes as he says, "No worries. It's been a pleasure, but I've got an early morning tomorrow anyway. Would you like me to walk you back?"
"Seeing as you're across the hall from me, it'd probably be an awkward walk back if I said no," you joke.
Steve lets out a hearty laugh, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "You've got a good point there. Let's go, then."
You nod in agreement, your smile matching his. Together, you walk back to your respective apartments, grateful for each other's company. As you unlock your door, you turn to face him with a thankful smile.
"Again, thank you. I look forward to seeing you again sometime," you say, pondering on your thoughts for a short second before adding, "I'm usually out there around the same time every evening; if you'd like to come out again tomorrow, I'd love the company."
"It's no problem, truly," he replies, offering you a reassuring smile. "And I'd love to. I'll be up tomorrow to visit you, but you know where to find me if you need me before then."
You hum in approval, stepping inside your apartment. Before you can close the door behind you, his voice speaks up again.
"Oh, and y/n?"
Opening the door fully, you look at him from across the hall, his figure standing facing you in his doorway. "Yes?"
"Thank you for treating me like I'm just Steve and not like, well, a 'hero.' It's a nice change of pace."
A welcoming smile graces your lips as your head tilts slightly to the side, your voice soft-spoken, "Well, that is who you are, isn't it? To me, you are just Steve."
The corners of his lips tug up, and his eyes hold a mixture of gratitude and sincerity. "That means more to me than you know. Have a good night, okay?"
"You too, Steve."
With that, you both close your doors. You return to your studio and throw your apron back on. This time, it's easy to come up with an idea and let your brush ghost over the canvas. Strictly from memory, you paint the skyline from the view of the rooftop tonight. You paint all the stars, the dark clouds, and the moon before stopping for the night.
It all comes naturally until that point because, unexpectedly and ironically, you had taken your own advice.
You found your spark.
The very next night, Steve meets you on the rooftop again, just as he promised. And every night since then for the last three weeks, he'd met you on the rooftop to catch up and share your progress. There wasn't but one day when he didn't show up, and meeting to chat had become like a routine. Because of that, the two of you hardly messaged each other throughout the day even though you had exchanged numbers. Some days, however, he'd text you simply to check in on you.
The man has had an irreversible effect on you that you can't deny; he keeps you level-headed, and he's almost like a muse to you.
After you finished the skyline painting of the night you met, you kept up with the theme. You did other random sketches during the daytime, along with commissions to make money, but always painted some semblance of the night sky when you got home from talking with Steve. You'd decided to turn the paintings into a collection, and last was the piece that completed said collection.
You also decided that you would finally take Steve up on his interest in seeing what you've painted. So, you told him before you parted the previous night to come over around the time you'd usually meet.
Now, it's the night he's supposed to come over, and you invited Elizabeth over after her shift to watch a movie to pass the time. That's how you ended up on your couch, Liz sitting opposite of you with your legs across her lap. You're holding your fourth glass of wine, your hair is messy from laying down, and you've got a blanket slung lazily over your legs.
The fact that Steve is coming over had slipped your mind as soon as Liz put that third glass of wine in your hand. Had you remembered, you would been wearing more than you are. But thanks to the alcohol, you got distracted and forgot to change into more...conservative clothing. Now you're left only wearing skimpy shorts paired with your favorite painting shirt from earlier; a thin, black button-up that's now unbuttoned almost halfway, and your red bra visible underneath.
Contributing to your distraction is none other than Liz. She's currently talking your ear off about her new situationship. And you don't mind at all, taking more interest in her life than the movie.
"Wait, wait, wait," you interrupt her, giggling as you try to piece together your words. "He took you on one 'date' to a car meet in his fancy car, and that's all it took to have you wrapped around his finger?"
Liz chuckles and takes a sip of her wine. "I mean, it's not just the cool cars, or the fact that he drives a Corvette. He's sweet, really, amongst other things," she says with a sly grin.
"Are any of these "other things," including being good in bed?" you question, an eyebrow raised expectantly at her.
She bursts into laughter, her cheeks flushed from the wine and her confession. "You know I'm a sucker for that," she admits as she tucks a strand of her dark red hair behind her ear.
You join in on her laughter while bringing your glass to your lips. "You're shameless, Lizzie," you tease playfully, shaking your head in faux disapproval at her.
Unfazed by your sarcastic teasing, she grins mischievously. "Shameless and proud, my friend."
"And that's why I love you," you smile.
"I know, I love you too," she replies with a yawn, "But as much as I love you, I think I better get going."
You lift your legs, grumbling dramatically at having to move, and swing your legs off the couch. She chuckles at your exaggeration, placing her glass on the coffee table before walking to the shoe rack near your front door. She slips her shoes on and then walks over to the counter to grab her purse. As she prepares to leave, you stretch out your tired limbs, sighing at the feeling.
You stand up straight, walking towards her to offer a hug, your arms outstretched. "Thanks for coming over, Liz. Be careful out there," you say, embracing her tightly.
"I live four doors down, honey."
"Oh, right," you respond with a smile as you pull away from the hug.
"Get some sleep, bug," she chuckles. "I'll talk to you-"
A knock sounds on the door, cutting her sentence short. Her brows raise at you before she looks at the door and then back at you.
"You expecting company?" she questions.
"I guess so," you mumble, hurrying to the door.
When you open it, you're met with the sight of Steve, dressed in his usual casual attire. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans, and his eyes trace over you quickly before his expression becomes slightly flustered.
"Hey there," he says, giving you a meek smile. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"You're not. Come on in," you reply, your cheeks warming as you realize how little you have on. Steve steps in, and you glance back at Liz, who's trying to stifle her laughter with her hand over her mouth, "Elizabeth was just leaving," you say with eyes narrowed in her direction.
Liz clears her throat, still trying to contain her laughter. "Oh, we're doing legal names now, l/n?"
When your eyes narrow at her once more, she finally lets out a laugh. "Alright, alright. I'll get back to 'just leaving' now," she says, slinging her purse over her shoulder, and slipping out of the door between the two of you.
She turns to give him a brief nod, but offers you a smirk, and then makes her way out. She sings, "Have fun," teasingly when she's just out of the door. You can't help but roll your eyes at her, and Steve chuckles.
"Thank you, Elizabeth," you remark sarcastically, closing the door behind her.
Steve speaks as you turn to face him, "She certainly gives quite the introduction."
"That she does," you sigh deeply, "I'm sorry for my underdressed state, Liz brought wine and I completely forgot you were coming tonight."
His gaze rakes back over you. "It is quite the surprise, but I don't mind," he starts, his eyes twinkling with something unknown as he takes in your flustered state, "Besides, you look fine- well, more than fine honestly, so I'm not complaining."
A shiver runs down your spine under his gaze, and you try to suppress a nervous laugh. You definitely hadn't expected that reaction, or that compliment, and it only adds to your nerves. It wasn't him you're nervous about, it's the attention that's unusual for you.
"Thank you," you say with a sheepish smile. "Uhm, I actually wanted to show you something. Follow me."
Steve hums, a smile crossing over his features, and he tries to force his eyes to stay off your figure while he follows you to your studio. He fails, though, and he catches a glimpse of your lower half when you walk. A deep blush tints his cheeks, and he's glad that you can't see it, but an obvious tent grows in his pants.
Upon entering your studio, you catch his flustered expression out of the corner of your eye. "You sure I don't need to change? Seems like I'm distracting you," you tease.
He clears his throat, stammering as he tries to regain his composure, "No, no, you're not... I mean, I just get distracted easily, but that's not me saying you look easy, or that you don't look great, 'cause you do, really, but I- uh, I'm so sorry."
A chuckle falls from your lips at his adorable, but not very common, nervous state. "I was just teasing. It's okay, Steve. Never thought I'd see you all shy and stuttering instead of me, though."
"You just have a way of making me feel... off balance, per-say," he says with a bashful grin.
Again, Steve's embarrassment is a definite contrast to the confident demeanor he usually carries, so you can't help but find the reaction endearing.
"Trust me, the feeling is mutual," you reply truthfully. "Now, back to the matter at hand. I wanted to show you these."
You gesture up at the collection of paintings that litter your longest wall, and Steve's eyes follow your direction. His gaze sweeps over the paintings, which he had missed initially due to his focus being primarily on you.
He takes a few steps closer to get a better look at the art in front of him. Each one displays a different variation of the sky and city lights, the canvases vary in size and tone, and every piece reflects a different emotion. Although they're all of the same sky, some are from different perspectives, and all of the cityscapes have a few differences.
You speak up after a few seconds and break the silence, "So? What do you think?"
He lingers on the paintings out of admiration, taking in every single one of the details of each painting. "They're stunning, I love all of them," he finally says. His voice filled with genuine awe as he adds, "You're incredible, truthfully, and I'm so proud of you."
"Thank you, Steve, but they wouldn't exist without you."
"Without me? What do you mean?" he questions, an eyebrow raised as he turns to look at you.
You smile and walk over to stand in front of him. Your eyes lock with his blue ones. "You're the inspiration for them- all of our conversations, the last few weeks we've met up there. Honestly, you've become my source of inspiration, and I can't thank you enough."
He lets your words soak in with softened eyes. Then his hand reaches out to delicately cup your cheek, and his thumb brushes your skin tenderly. Goosebumps litter your skin the second his hand meets your skin, and you feel your cheeks heat up, his touch making your heart pound in anticipation.
"I'm more than honored," he says, his voice warm and affectionate. "I'm glad I could be of help to you. You're truly talented, honey."
With each passing moment, you can feel your connection deepening, and so can he. The air in the room seems to have become charged with an unspoken understanding of yours and his feelings. His hand on your cheek, the feeling of his slightly hot skin on yours, has nerves pooling in your stomach. After a second, you find yourself leaning into his touch. You even allow your eyes to close for a brief second to savor the moment.
When you open your eyes, you find Steve's gaze locked onto your lips. His expression is one filled with a foreign longing and desire, along with traces of hesitation.
"Y/n," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, "can I..."
Before he can finish, you close the remaining gap between the two of you. Your lips press onto his with your hands on resting on his chest and his hands cupping your face. His response is immediate; he kisses you back softly as a simple exploration of the connection that's been growing for weeks. It's a gentle, tender action, and it's almost like he's testing the waters to see if the newfound attraction is mutual. And luckily for him, it is, and you can feel it in every shared breath.
Steve pulls away to give you time to catch your breath, leaving your heart racing. His forehead rests on yours as he smiles at you. The nervousness you felt has since dissipated, and now it's all been replaced with admiration.
"I've wanted to do that for longer than I'd like to admit," he confesses in a whisper.
"Me too. Is it bad that I'm tempted to ask you to do it again?" you ask, meeting his smile with one of your own.
His eyes sparkle with delight, a light chuckle falling from his mouth while his hand still cradles your cheek. "I was hoping you'd say that," he says, his lips brushing against yours as he speaks.
Once more, he leans down and captures your lips in another kiss. This time, the kiss is deeper, and...hungrier. One of your hands slides up his chest and behind his neck so your fingers can tangle in his hair. In response, his hands drop, his arms encircling your waist to pull you flush against him.
The need that's been simmering for weeks comes to the forefront as your lips move in sync with his. His tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you part them willingly. Feverishly, his tongue slides into your mouth, the taste of him becoming nearly intoxicating. His hands trail from your waist to your lower back, and he attempts to pull you closer, but there's no more distance between you two to close. Your fingers tug at his hair gently in response, the feeling of his body on yours making your heart beat out of your chest.
Steve's lips move from your mouth down to your neck to leave a trail of fleeting kisses. Your breath hitches, a small whimper tumbles from your lips, and it only pushes him to keep going. His hands roam over your body and caress every curve as he occasionally grabs at your waist or hips. Delicately, his teeth nip at your neck just under your jawline. You whine when he pulls away, your eyes meeting his, your chest rising and falling faster.
"I know. I want you too, honey, but you deserve more," he says softly. "Let me take you out tomorrow, on a real date, and we'll see where it goes- does that sound okay?"
"Tomorrow sounds perfect," you reply with a smile.
He grins, returning your warm energy. "I'll be looking forward to it, but I should probably get going for the night. I'll pick you up at, say, six-thirty?"
You nod in agreement, your fingers twirling strands of his hair around them. "That works for me," you concur. "Let me walk you to the door?"
He hums softly, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead and then on your lips. When he, reluctantly, pulls away, you miss the heat of his body immediately. Your fingers intertwine with his as you walk him out of your studio and to the front door. He unlocks the door before turning around to face you. Just as he's about to kiss you goodbye, you jump slightly, pulling your hand out of his.
"I almost forgot- just wait here," you speak in a hurried tone, heading back into your studio.
You pull out your desk drawer and take out the painting you had sitting in there. Steve's expression turns joyful when you return, the medium-sized canvas in your hands, and his eyebrow quirks up out of curiosity.
"What's this?" he asks.
With a bashful smile, you hand it over to him. "Just a gift for you, a little thank you for helping me."
He carefully takes the painting from you, his eyes lighting up as he gazes at the canvas. It's the painting you did on the first night you met; a beautiful depiction of the night sky from above with a cityscape beneath it, and two figures in the chairs on the roof. To anybody else, it would look like just that, two figures, but he knows it's the two of you. He recognizes that because, well, he has remembered every night since he met you.
His fingers glide gingerly over the brushstrokes, tracing the image admirably. "Oh, honey, this is beautiful. I'll cherish it, honestly, and I have just the place for it in my apartment," he says, his tone appreciative and endearing.
You beam at his reaction, reaching up to place a kiss on his cheek. "I'm glad you like it."
"I love it," he promises, his cheeks tinted a soft pink from your kiss. He leans down and places a quick, but still lingering, kiss to your lips before saying, "Goodnight, y/n, I'll see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Steve," you respond, watching him open the door and give you a small smile before leaving.
Once the door is closed, you lean against it for a moment, your heart fluttering with anticipation. After locking the door, you make your way to your bedroom, and your smile doesn't waver even once. All too eager for your date, you don't bother to change out of your clothes. You climb into bed, and it only takes you a few minutes to knock out, drifting off to sleep with a now content mind and full heart.
And unbeknownst to you, Steve falls asleep with the same level of contentment and joy in his own bed.
word count: 7.1k
summary: only a few weeks after a breakup, you go out for the night with the team. steve doesn’t show up, and he’s been purposefully not showing up to anything non-work related after the breakup. however, tonight you drink a little too much, and insist that steve pick you up.
warnings: angst (breakup, talk of bullying, body image issues), swearing, drinking, *smutty implications.
"I'm sorry, I just didn't know who else to call," Sam explains, his voice raised to speak louder than the blaring music.
"She keeps asking for you, and she won't go with anyone but you," Bucky adds as he and Sam lead Steve through the crowded dancefloor.
The blond sighs and shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. "It's alright, really, but just how drunk is she, exactly?"
Before Sam can respond, they come to a stop right in front of the team's reserved booth. Bruce had only come for all of an hour of the night, but Clint and Tony had left about thirty minutes prior to Steve's arrival, leaving your well-being in Natasha, Bucky, and Sam's hands.
Steve looks over you and Nat; you're laid down on the long, cushioned seat with your head resting on her lap. Her jacket is slung over your lower half to cover your exposed legs from your dress rising up on your thighs. You're looking up at her adoringly, reaching up to twirl strands of her hair between your fingers as you mumble about how pretty her hair is.
"That answer your question?" Sam whispers, chuckling slightly.
Another sigh falls from Steve's lips, and although his heart aches, he has to stop himself from cracking a smile. "That it does."
He steps closer to the booth, taking in the sight of you with softened eyes. Typically, you never let yourself get this drunk, not in the public eye at least. Even though it's clear you've had more than a bit too much to drink, the sight is endearing.
Nat directs her attention from you and up at the three men approaching the table instead. Her expression is one of amusement with a slight hint of relief as she looks down at you again. "Hey, look who's here, honey," she says softly to you.
You turn your head in her lap and let your hands fall back down, finally releasing her hair from your gentle grip. Your eyes land on Steve and you blink up at him before a wide, drunken smile spreads on your face.
"Steeeeve!" you exclaim in a slur, reaching your hand out for him. "You came!"
He crouches down next to the booth, hesitantly taking your hand into his. "Hey, doll. 'Course I came, I always will. Looks like you've had fun tonight, huh?"
You nod excitedly and your smile spreads into a grin. "Nat's hair is sooo pretty, did ya know that? 'S soft too, like a pillow," you ramble, your words somehow not coming out scrambled.
"I bet," Steve says, watching Nat brush your hair out of your face. "Let's get you home, yeah?"
"Your home?" you ask in a softer voice.
Right. His home.
"I don't..." Steve starts before falling into silent contemplation.
He looks up at Nat who's already looking back at him, her expression apologetic and soft. Then his eyes shift back down to you, and his heart clenches in his chest. Your eyelashes flutter as you blink at him, your eyes light up and twinkle in a way that they only do for him, and your lips part a little as you take slower breaths.
How could he say no to that?
"Sure, yeah, we'll go back to mine," he concedes gently, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.
You smile again and scramble to sit upright. Nat lays a hand on your back to help keep you balanced, Steve taking your other hand in his free one to pull you up gently. When you're sat up straight, he takes Nat's jacket off your legs and helps you tug your dress back down.
He slides your phone off the table and into his pocket before throwing your arms around his neck. You take the hint to hold on as he slides one of his arms under your legs and the other behind your back.
Effortlessly, he lifts you into his arms. You clasp your hands together behind his neck and a giggle slips out of your lips- a sound that was once music to his ears which had now become one he longed to hear again.
"G'night, Nat," you say sweetly, turning your head to look at her.
Steve's body follows the direction of your head, turning towards the table so you don't strain your neck. Her eyes meet yours and she smiles at you once more.
"Goodnight, babe. Text me tomorrow, alright?" she requests before looking up at Steve and saying, "Make sure to get some water in her, we had to trick her into drinking some by watering down her tequila."
"Will do-"
Your gasp cuts Steve off effectively, her words only just now sinking in. "That wasn't tequila?!" you exclaim, your voice coming out quieter than you realize.
The three at the table laugh a little- even Steve lets out a low chuckle of his own.
"I'll let you in on a secret," Nat starts, her voice dropping to a whisper before continuing, "It was definitely tequila, but you know these guys are no fun, so we can't tell them that."
"Ohhh, right, right. I can keep a secret- you're the world's bestest adult sitter," you reply softly.
"The best, huh?" she questions with a half smirk.
When you nod, she takes a sip of her drink, placing the glass down before saying, "I'll be expecting my plaque soon then."
"You wanna say bye to Sam and Bucky?" he asks, looking over slightly to meet your eyes.
You hum in response and he walks you over a few steps to Bucky and Sam who are sitting at the other end of the table. The pair smile at you, though it's more of an amused grin on Bucky's end, and you return the gesture.
"Bye, Bucky," you say, sleep and intoxication ridden in your voice.
Bucky chuckles and rises to his feet to ruffle your hair playfully. "Bye, doll. You get some good sleep, alright?"
Your nose scrunches at the feeling of his hand in your hair. "Always good sleep when with Stevie."
Bucky sits back down, and Sam starts to speak, "Punch it in," he instructs, raising his fist up to your level.
You oblige happily, curling your hand into a fist to the best of your ability and bumping it against his. "G'bye," you slur, nuzzling your face into the crook of Steve's neck.
"Call us if you need us," Bucky says to Steve.
"Yeah, thank you for watching over her," Steve responds appreciatively, "Goodnight, be safe getting home."
"'Night," the three say collectively, smiling at him in a way that's bordering apologetic.
Steve forces a smile before turning to walk away. He makes his way through the crowd, holding you tight and protectively against his chest.
"You can go to sleep if you want, I can tell you're sleepy," he murmurs low enough for just you to hear him.
A small whimper emits from you, making a warmth spread through his body. He looks down at you adoringly before looking back up, shifting his focus back to the rather slow journey to the exit. Although some people part to make way for who they know to be Captain America himself, most of them are too drunk to care. So, Steve focuses heavily on navigating through the maze of bodies.
When he steals a glance down at you again, you're sleeping peacefully and your head has fallen back away from his neck. You must've felt him move though, because you immediately nestle your face back into his neck, and the warmth of your breath against his skin makes him shiver. The scent of the alcohol you'd been drinking lingers, but it's mixed with the familiar fragrance of your vanilla perfume, and it creates a blend that only you could pull off.
When you reach the exit, the cold, autumn night air hits both of your faces. Steve adjusts his grip on you to make sure you're comfortable and then walks to the car he ordered that dropped him off. The driver steps out, and opens the passenger side door for the two of you, allowing Steve to slide you comfortably onto the seat.
He thanks the driver as you whine at the loss of contact. You melt sleepily into his touch when he reaches in to brush your hair behind your ear to let you know he's not leaving. The bright city lights reflect in his blue eyes, and a soft, but achy, smile plays on his lips at the sight of you. Careful not to wake you or pinch your fingers, he fastens your seatbelt, making sure you're secure before closing the car door.
He walks to the other side of the car and gets in, choosing to sit by the window instead of next to you in the middle seat. As the car starts up, he can't help but look at you and admire you. The admiration quickly turns into longing, though. He takes in every part of your face, his mind plaguing itself with the memory of just over two months ago.
"I don't think I'm right for you."
The words flow easily from your mouth like water between open fingers. Steve looks at you, utterly confused and hurt. His jaw tightens, his eyebrows furrowing as he opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again when he can't find the words.
He gets off the couch, rising to his feet and looking at you from across the room. "You want to leave, to forget everything from the last year and a half, just because you don't think you're right for me?"
The weight of your decision and his words sit heavily on your shoulders as you slouch over, putting your face in your hands for a moment. "I... I'm no good for you, Steve, and you deserve better than me... I can't be what, or who, you need."
"What are you talking about, y/n? You're perfect to me, I wouldn't trade you for anything," he explains, trying to keep his voice soft and reassuring despite the fear and irritation building up in him. "Please, tell me what I can do to make you feel better and I'll do it, I'll do anything-"
"You can't do anything!" you finally snap, your emotions being misdirected towards him. You let the warm tears that were welling up fall freely from your eyes as you continue, "There's nothing you can do, Steven, I'm not the person you need, and I never will be. Drop it, just leave it at that, and move on."
"'Leave it at that?'" Steve repeats back in bewilderment. "We have been together for almost two years and you expect me to drop all of it just like that?"
All you can muster up in response is a quiet, "I'm sorry."
He watches you stand up and sling your purse over your shoulder. Desperately, he scrambles for the right words to say to make you stay. "Baby, please, tell me what's really going on here- this cannot be it for us, I won't let it be."
Steve takes long strides towards you only for you to back away from him. For some strange reason, that small action hurt worse than any of the words that came, or could possibly come, out of your mouth. He stops dead in his tracks, trying to search your face for any sign of changing your mind. When he doesn't find it, he bites down on his tongue to save himself more heartache from the useless begging he wants to let out.
"I'm sorry, Steve. You deserve better, and you always have," you mumble, wiping the tears off your cheeks and walking quickly to the front door.
"I love you," he says, only to receive no response other than the front door slamming shut as you walk out of it.
“You alright back there?” the driver’s voice snaps Steve out of his thoughts. “You need heat or air? Seat warmers? Anything?”
Steve shakes his head slightly, snapping himself out of it. His hand reaches over to you, and he rests the back of his hand on your forehead. “A little heat, thanks,” he says with a smile after nothing the tinge of cold your skin has.
“Of course,” the driver says with a returned smile as he turns the heat on.
As he avigates the familiar route to Steve’s apartment, with the sleepiness Steve feels, he's thankful for the fact that there's only a minute or two remaining of the drive. And on the other hand, he’s sulking about the short time left because that’s two minutes closer to you being gone by the time he wakes up.
He turns his gaze back to you, still peacefully asleep with your head resting against the window. The soft hum of the engine provides an almost calming backdrop that yet does nothing to soothe the ache that persists. Focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest always seems to soothe him though, and it still does so now.
The car comes to a stop in front of the apartment, and Steve reaches into his wallet to pull out some cash. He pulls out his keys too, to make it easier when he gets to the door. Then he hands the cash to the driver with a grateful nod before getting out of the car and making his way to your side. Gently, he opens the door, reaching up quickly to lean your head back on the headrest.
You grumble a little, and he's quick to ease you as he unbuckles your seatbelt. "Sorry, sweetheart, but we're home now."
"Home?" you murmur, still half asleep.
He carefully lifts you into his arms once more, and you instantly cling to his jacket. "Yeah... home."
The building's lobby is quiet as he enters through the automatic doors, the night shift doorman giving him a knowing smile. Steve offers nothing but a small and short nod in return, his focus solely on your drunken state. Luckily the elevator ride is short, but every second feels like an eternity to him.
The weight of your body curled up in his arms provides a comforting familiarity. It's a familiarity he soaks up though, having not seen you outside of work during the few missions you had together. In fact, you hadn't spoken to him outside of work since you left either.
Even during missions, you were short with your comments. And when you picked up your things from his apartment, of which you were actively moving into, you did it on a day when he was gone. You'd left your key under the mat and shot him a brief text letting him know. He replied, only asking how you were doing, but he got no response back.
The elevator dings, snapping him out of his thoughts again as he steps out, taking long strides until he reaches his door. He turns to the side, bending down ever so slightly to unlock the door with his keys in the hand hooked under your legs. He twists the doorknob and pushes the door open, carrying you inside with practiced ease.
The soft glow of outside city lights filters through the open windows. Paired with the dim tv, the lights cast a cool ambiance over the living room. With a deep breath, he heads straight to his room and slowly lays you down on the bed.
The bedroom is dark except for the blue and green aurora projected on the ceiling from the starlight projector you insisted he get since his room was too 'plain.' At first, the light kept him up at night because he found it too distracting, but since you'd left, he couldn't sleep without it on. After all, it was the only piece of you that you left with him other than the few shirts and undergarments.
Steve sighs deeply, taking your heels off your feet and placing them next to the bed. He covers you with your favorite blanket from the foot of his bed, and with a heart heavier than typical, he makes his way to the kitchen to fill up a cup with water. He then carries the glass back to the bedroom and sits it on the bedside table.
He takes a moment to simply watch you as he sits on the edge of the bed next to you. The soft features of your face relaxed in sleep makes him contemplate waking you up- you were always a peaceful sleeper, and he hated disturbing those few moments of peace.
Before he can attempt to wake you, you begin to stir, your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes slowly open. You blink slowly a few times, allowing your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and then a sleepy smile forms on your face when you see Steve.
"Hey," he greets you softly, reaching over to offer you the glass of water from the nightstand.
"Thank you," you say.
It's obvious that you're still not sober as you take the glass and sit up too quickly, the sudden movement resulting in your head throbbing as you groan. "Ouch," you mumble, pressing the palm of your free hand against your forehead.
"You okay?"
"Think so," you reply, sitting up much slower than before.
The cool water soothes you a little as you take small sips of it. A contented sigh falls from your lips, your body appreciating the non-alcoholic beverage. You place the glass back onto its spot on the nightstand and then focus your attention back on Steve.
Your eyes reflect the projector's lights as your eyes rake over him for a few seconds. Slower than you realize, you raise your hand and brush it gently over his cheek in admiration. "You're like... like an angel, but a reaaally handsome one," you croon.
Steve chuckles, a mixture of amusement and genuine joy spreading across his features. "I'm flattered, but you're the angel here, honey," he says with a smile.
He captures your hand in his and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. You giggle in response, the alcohol still evident in your system, and then your happy expression fades away. You look down, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.
"I'm sorry for, uhm, causing a fuss t'night. I never meant to ruin your night..."
The look on his face becomes one closer to sympathetic as he drops your hand, now reaching over to cup your cheek. Carefully, he forces you to look at him as he speaks. "Hey, you didn't ruin anything, alright? I'll always come when you need me, and I'm just glad you're okay."
Missing the feeling of his skin on yours all too much, you lean into his touch, letting his warmth soothe you. "Thanks for...everything."
"Anytime, truly," he replies.
There's a comfortable silence that falls between you, the weight of the obvious unspoken words lingering in the air. You look up at him, trying to keep yourself awake. Steve drops his hand and tries to memorize every detail of your face. He knows that tomorrow things will go back to how they were, and he's not sure he can stomach that.
It only takes a few more beats of silence before he breaks the said silence, his voice low and gentle. "Can we talk?" he asks, his blue eyes searching yours.
You hum for a moment, taking a slow breath before saying, "Jus' for a minute, very sleepy."
"I just... I have one question, that okay?"
"Hm?"
Steve musters up the courage to speak, only breaking apart from your gaze for a second. "Could you maybe tell me why you left? Like why you really left?"
When your eyes flicker with hesitation and sadness, he starts to regret asking. The air feels heavier than it ever has, holding the weight of everything spoken and not yet said, but he breathes it all in. Right as he's about to tell you to not worry about it, you take a deep breath and smother your vulnerability with the knowledge that he deserves the truth. Slowly as to not give yourself another headache, you nod.
"S'like I told you, that was the truth, 'm not good enough. You look at me with so much love and admiration, and I know...I know I could never live up to what you think of me," you explain, drawing out each word a little more than you would if you were sober. "'M holding you back, always have been, and you deserve better."
His eyebrows furrow as he takes in your words, his gaze intense and sharp. "I look at you like that because of who you are, not because of who I think you should be," he says in an attempt to reassure you. He reaches out to take your hand in his as he continues, "You're always been more than enough, honey. I mean, hell, you're more than I deserve, and-"
"No, no, you don't get it!" you exclaim lowly, cutting him off and taking your hand out of his grip. "Y-you're perfect, you're America's golden boy, and 'm jus' me. I hate my body, my mind, an-and everything about me. Could never be good enough for you, Steve. As if I don't already hate myself enough, everyone says and sees how much more you deserve, except for you."
Steve's mind races and his heart tightens as he takes in your words. The obvious pain in your voice cuts through him like a scalding knife, the tears welling up in your eyes cutting him even deeper. He's now sure that nothing could measure up to the pain of hearing you talk about yourself in the complete opposite way of how he thinks of you.
Silence passes as he dwells on your words. Then it clicks.
"Who's been saying that?" he questions sternly.
You avoid his gaze like the plague, immediately breaking the eye contact you were holding. Physically, you can feel yourself shrink. Whether it's the guilt from your outburst, the shame from everything you've heard and thought about yourself, or the intensity of his gaze- you're not sure.
His jaw tightens in anger, but not directed at you. "Who, y/n?"
A deep and heavy sigh falls from your lips as your eyes dart around the room. "Phone," you say quietly, holding out your hand to him.
Steve looks at your outstretched hand, confusion covering the concern etched on his face briefly. He pauses for a moment before reaching into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out your phone. Placing it in your hand, he watches closely as you unlock it with shaky fingers. Your eyes scan over the screen, but it doesn't take long for you to find what you were looking for, and your expression tells it all.
You hesitate to hand the phone to him, but you do so anyway, lying down on the bed and curling up into yourself as soon as the phone touches his hands. And, not that you see it, but his eyes narrow as he reads over everything rapidly. You'd had it all saved in a little folder; every message, every media report, every post made about you.
He's not sure what's worse of the situation, to be honest. To know that you'd felt this way about yourself for God knows how long and not have said anything about it was painful, sure. However, the words written about you were downright cruel, analytical, and simply not true at all.
But the amount of things that were written and you had saved for you to read at your whim, only reaffirming whatever untrue things you thought about yourself? That was a different level of hurt that he could imagine hurt you hundreds of times worse than it does him.
Unable to stomach anymore, he places your phone face down on the nightstand. Silently, he scoots up on the bed to be closer, reaching out to place his hand on your cheek. You flinch at the contact at first, but his touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the words you've been subjected to.
"I'm so, so sorry, my sweet girl," he says softly, trying to force down tears of his own.
You take a shaky breath in and out, your voice barely above a low murmur. "Didn't want you to leave me, so I left first."
Steve's heart sinks at your admission, his thumb gently stroking your cheek to wipe away the stray tear that escaped your eye. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture that's meant to offer some kind of comfort and reassurance.
"I would've never left you, and I still won't, okay? I know you care about what they say, but I don't. Nothing could ever skew my image of you, angel, you're my definition of perfect- you don't have any image to live up to in my mind," he promises with a soft-spoken tone.
You can't find it in you to respond even though you want to, all too scared of your voice failing you. Sheer pain radiates from you to the point where it's almost suffocating. While he's more than aware that no words can take back anything you've read or heard, the simple fact that he can't undo what has already been done riddles him with guilt still.
If he could, he would take all of that ache and bear it all for you.
"When did all this start?" he inquires, waiting patiently for your answer.
"I don't know..."
"I know you do, honey, you can tell me."
"Only... Only a week after we got together, got worse after I started moving in here."
"Scoot," he instructs gently, careful to control his tone with you although he feels a deep rage.
You oblige and scoot over slowly. Almost instantly, he lays down behind you, curling up so that his body molds with yours. He brushes a few pieces of your hair back before wrapping his arm around your midsection to hold you protectively against him.
"Can I ask you one more thing?" he asks, adding on, "And you don't have to answer if you don't want to."
After thinking about it for a second, you nod. He tries to find the best way to ask what he wants to ask. Deep down he wants, but somehow already knows, the answer, yet he doesn't want to make things worse. Nor does he want it to seem like the subject is the only thing he was thinking about.
"Is…is all of this, meaning what people have said and what you think about yourself- is this why we've never, you know, done anything together?" he inquires with furrowed brows from the overwhelming amount of emotions. "I'm just asking because I never thought this would be why, I thought I was doing something wrong or you just weren't ready."
Your body tenses at his question, and you have to steady your voice before answering, "Part of it. Never felt good enough, and I didn't want you to see me like that and be disappointed."
Steve frowns, sighing lowly as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. The gesture is simple, but it effectively conveys the depth of what he feels.
"I don't care how long it takes me to convince you, but I'll spend forever trying to get you to see yourself even a fraction of the way I do if I have to," he says as his thumb traces circles on your side. "You're absolutely breathtaking, angel. Fuck anyone who says you're anything other than beautiful."
A quiet giggle slips from between your lips, unable to hold contain your momentary amusement. For the first time in a while, he smiles a real, genuine smile. "You don't know how long I've missed the sound of that pretty laugh."
"You said 'fuck,'" you tease, trying to soak in the temporary joy.
He chuckles and the sounds rumbles through his chest. "Sometimes I can be a little hypocritical, especially when it comes to protecting you."
The smile you hold fades again, and you're left with nothing but the sadness and warmth of Steve's body behind yours. "Thank you," you whisper.
Steve tightens his hold around you and presses another gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. "You don't need to thank me for telling you the truth, it's what I'm here for, and I meant every word."
The two of you lay there in silence for a while. The room stays filled only with the sounds of your delicate breathing and the occasional passing of a distant car. This time, the silence isn't agonizing though. Steve's presence makes it feel comforting, and his words make your brain go mute even if just for tonight, making the weight of the world lift just a little.
"Stevie?" you murmur, breaking the silence.
"Hmm?" he responds.
Your fingers wrap around his wrist. "Don't wanna be alone t'night," you admit.
"Then you won't be," he promises softly. "Do you want me to help you out of that dress? No pressure, of course, I was just thinking it might be more comfortable for you to sleep if you changed. I think you've still got a shirt here or you could wear one of mine, and like I said I could leave if-"
"Steve?"
"...Yes?"
"Don't think I could get out of this dress by myself right now if I wanted to, and I'd love one of your shirts."
Steve smiles at your response, relief washing over him at your comfort with him. He unwraps his arm from around you, sitting up slowly before helping you sit up. When he slides off the bed, walking over to his dresser to find a shirt, you scoot yourself slowly to the edge of the bed. Your legs dangle off the edge and your shoulders slouch as you try to keep yourself awake.
With a worn-out gray t-shirt in his hand, he walks back over to you. "Alright, sweetheart. Let me take care of you," he says.
He places the shirt on the bed and reaches behind you to unzip your dress. You allow your head to fall against his chest, trying to soak in his warmth. His movements are slow and delicate, precise too, ensuring that he doesn't cause you any discomfort.
Once the zipper is down, he leaves his hands resting on your back to help you slide off the bed. Then he slips the thin straps down your arms, allowing the dress to fall to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear.
Crystalline, icy blue eyes rake over your body for a moment as he bends down to pick up the discarded fabric. It's not a sexual ogling, and you know that; he's simply admiring you the way he has always wanted to.
Suddenly feeling bashful, you avoid his gaze. You look at anything but him or your body, opting to focus on the street lights outside the big window. He catches your slight shyness immediately and quickly tries to soothe you.
"Hey," he coos with concern written on his face, one hand resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek, "You're perfect, angel. Are you feeling uncomfortable, do I need to step out for a minute?"
"N-no," you answer promptly and force yourself to meet his eyes. "'M jus' not used to being looked at like this."
Steve's gaze softens, clearly showing he understands the vulnerability you feel. He leans in to press a lingering kiss on your forehead. "If you let me, I'll help you get used to it- and I'll make sure you never feel unsafe or uncomfortable with me. How's that sound?"
The corners of your lips manage to quirk up into an appreciative smile. "Sounds nice, Stevie," you reply, your voice low but still audible.
Returning the same appreciative look, he picks up the t-shirt and says, "Thank you for letting me see you, and touch you, but let's get into something more comfortable for right now. You need some sleep."
You nod and raise your arms up in the air so he can slide the t-shirt onto you. It's then that you notice he'd given you the same shirt you wore the first night you ever spent the night at his place, and almost every time since then, threatening to make you cry.
The fabric is as soft against your skin as it always has been, and the scent of Steve's cologne envelops you, providing a sense of security. A warm feeling spreads through your chest at how he cares for you.
Steve takes a small step back to admire you in the shirt, and just to get another look at you. A fond smile plays on his lips as he looks you over once more. "Always has looked better on you than it does on me. Good to know it still does," he says, honesty obvious in his voice.
Again, your eyes lock with his. You search him for any sign of anything negative, coming up with nothing almost instantly. He searches you for any look or hint of discomfort, but he finds nothing other than sleepiness and adoration in your gaze.
Silence passes over the two of you like it had just mere minutes ago. The quiet environment feels even more natural and comforting than it did before, though.
He clears his throat, trying to prevent the eye contact from becoming awkward for you. "Uhm, let's get you into bed, alright?"
You step to the side so he can pull the comforter back, your hands playing with the bottom hem of the shirt. He turns to face you, and you take a wobbly step towards him, balancing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. His hand flies to your lower back to offer you more support, and you look up at him through the eyelashes of your sleepy eyes.
Slowly, tracing your way up and down his chest once, your eyes stare into him with something he'd never seen in you before. In fact, the look is so intense that it could make any man weak, he's sure of it. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly at your sudden touchiness.
"Are you feeling okay?" he asks, somehow oblivious to exactly what look it is that you're giving him.
"Mhmm," you hum, drawing out the 'hm,' with a voice laced with a soft and sleepy seduction from still being tipsy. "Y'know, 'm not thaaat tired."
"Oh? The way that you're hardly able to hold yourself up says otherwise, angel. We have all of tomorrow to talk, let me just help take care of you tonight."
A giggle slips from between your parted lips in response to his cluelessness. "S'cute when you're so sweet," you croon.
"Do you, uhm, do you need something before bed? Like an Advil maybe?"
Instead of a verbal response, you grab onto his jacket and give it a slight tug. You take a step forward, pushing him back gently to force him to sit on the bed. He looks up at you in confusion, but you don't let go of him as you slowly straddle him. With your weight being supported by your knees on the bed and his legs under you, you lean in, nuzzling your face into his neck.
"Angel, what're you-"
Your lips brush lightly under his jawline, leaving a trail of tender kisses as you gradually make your way down to under his chin.
Steve's breath hitches, and his free hand comes to rest on your waist with a delicate, but firm, grip. "O-oh," he murmurs in a sigh.
You nibble gently on his jaw. "Jus' need you," you mumble before pressing your lips to his.
He lets you kiss him, unable to resist the feeling because, well fuck, how could he?
The taste of your lips is all too familiar, and as his lips work against yours, his hands find your hips. His hold on you is secure, and it does nothing to ease the arousal building up in your stomach. You whine from the contact, and he tugs you closer, still careful to keep you steady on his lap.
His resolve weakens, and he becomes hyperaware of your vulnerable state again. So, he breaks the kiss, looking down and into your eyes.
"Y/n, I'm not sure if-" he starts, only to be interrupted by you dipping down to bite on his neck. You suck harshly on his neck as you reach down and palm him through his jeans.
A low groan emits from his chest, his voice husky when he speaks. "God, baby.”
Thoroughly enjoying the reaction he gives, you whimper against his neck. He can feel the corners of your lips turn up into a slight smile. His other hand is on the other side of your waist, gripping it firmly, as soon as you start grinding down onto his thigh. He loses himself in the moment for just a second before reminding himself of your inebriated state.
“F-Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Wait, wait- stop.”
You bite down once more, whining slightly before pulling away. The sensitive spot on his neck pulses, rushing with blood from the sucking and vibration. He tenses up with a mixture of both surprise and arousal at your forwardness. Then he lets both of his hands find your hips and settle on them, his hold tightening on you.
"D-did I do somethin' wrong? Did that not feel good?" you ask with a deep frown.
"No, no. That's not it, I promise; everything you've done feels amazing," Steve reassures you, quickly shutting down your negative thoughts.
Once again, he clears his throat in an attempt to regain his composure. "Angel, you're just… not in the best state right now. I won't take advantage of you, and I don't want you doing anything you might regret," he explains as he looks down to meet your gaze.
You're staring up at him with those big puppy dog eyes that you always use as an effective method to sway him. Tonight, though, is vastly different.
"C'mon, doll. Don't look at me like that. If you still want me in a few hours, when you're sober, that is, then I am all yours," he promises, trying to bargain with you.
You stick your lower lip out a little unintentionally, giving him the cutest pout he's ever seen. "Sober..." you repeat, looking away almost in shame as you add, "Promise you'll still want me then?"
Steve tilts your chin up with his finger and forces you to lock eyes with him. "I can promise you. I've never wanted anything more in my life than I want you. And that's never going to change."
Tantalizingly, he runs his thumb across your lower lip, a small smile playing on his lips. "But, I need you to be sure that this is what you want. I want you to remember every moment, not just bits and pieces of it, and know that everything we do is your choice," he says softly.
After taking a moment to process his words, you nod in understanding- noting the sincerity in his eyes. The room fills itself with an assortment of emotions, ranging everywhere from desire, uncertainty, and just a touch of venerable fragility.
Steve brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his expression one of soft neutrality. "Alright. Let's get you tucked in," he whispers, his voice a low murmur.
You let go of his jacket after he scoots back on the bed, bringing your knee from the other side of his leg and lying down. You curl yourself into a ball, and Steve's eyes never leave you as you do so. He takes a moment to appreciate the mere sight of you back in his bed, and a wave of warmth rushes through his chest. His earlier desires are still very much present, but so is the respect for the boundaries he set for your well-being.
He gets up briefly to pull the blankets over you before sitting down in the comfy chair in the corner of the room to take his shoes off. The chair you'd begged him to get as well to fill up the empty space in the room.
After sliding the boots under the chair, he makes his way to the dresser to change into some loose-fitting sweatpants. When he's about to put a shirt on, you grumble a 'no,' that catches his attention and makes him turn to face you.
"No?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow up questioningly.
"Nuh-uh," you respond with a shake of your head.
He chuckles lightly. "Why not?"
"Warmer without it, not a bad sight either," you say softly, following it up with a yawn.
Steve smirks in appreciation of your usual playfulness. "If you insist," he concedes, deciding to forgo the shirt. He slips the shirt back into the drawer and walks back over to the bed.
He settles himself in beside you and lifts his arm up, allowing you to scoot into his side and rest your head on his chest. Happily, you hum, soaking up his warmth and focusing on his steady heartbeat. He then reaches down with his free hand to pull the blanket over himself.
"Uncomfortable?" you murmur, sleep laced in your voice.
"No, I'll be alright as long as you're comfortable."
A second passes by before you speak again. "Thank you."
"For what, angel?"
"For being so...you."
You feel Steve's chest rise and fall with a deep, contented sigh. His fingers trace slow circles on your back through your shirt. "Always," he whispers, his soft voice lulling you even closer to sleep.
The room stays wrapped in a soothing silence, the only sounds heard being the quiet breaths from both of you. As you lay there trying to sleep, you can't help but marvel at the man beside you. Everything about him is truly perfect, from his basic concern for your well-being to the way he has always taken care of you.
Your eyes begin to feel heavy, slowly shutting fully as you find yourself on the brink of slumber. Just before you succumb to sleep, you muster up the energy to mumble, "Steve?"
"Hmm?" he responds, his chest rumbling under your cheek.
"'M glad it's you."
"Wouldn't trade you for anything, sweetheart," he murmurs, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "And, for the record, I'm glad it's you too."
Steve continues to run his fingers over your back as you fall asleep. His fingers create a rhythmic pattern that mirrors the peaceful in and out of your breathing, only making your rest more soothing. He looks down at you and smiles to himself, reveling in the sheer joy of having you back, even if it's only for tonight.
Often the weight of his responsibilities feels too heavy to bear, but with you, there's a sense of solace that transcends the chaos of the outside world. Everything about you and your presence is a sanctuary. It's all a nice reminder that, after everything he does for everyone else, he's worthy of a little tranquility at the end of the day too.
Steve presses another gentle kiss into your hair before closing his eyes, savoring the sweet moment. "Goodnight, angel."
He hears your tired, softly grumbled response before he falls asleep. Though he tries not to let himself get too wrapped up in the moment, too used to your presence again, he does anyway. If there is anything he wants for the rest of his life, it's you next to him.
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@pigeonmama @rogersbarber @buckysprettybaby
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-> you read 2,690,420 words, none of which are in the bible
-> your preferred genre is an abomination
-> you found one writer and read everything they've ever written...
-> ...only to find out they're into some weird shit.
-> and now you are too. congratulations!
-> the data we've collected has shocked us to our very core and we wish we hadn't done it. we won't see you next year. please seek professional mental support
pairing: steve rogers x afab reader, tony stark x platonic!afab reader
↞ previous | next ↠
word count: 4k
warnings/important tags: none i can think of :)
summary: a new home, a warm reconciliation between you and steve, a not-so-warm-at-first reconciliation between steve and tony
a/n: sorry for the late update! but my elbow is feeling a bit better, so i've been working on other things :)
Steve holds your hand the entire way up to the lab, having missed your touch entirely too much to let go. Even as you sit in your chair to wait for Tony to show up, his hand is in yours as he sits next to you. His touch is all too comforting, though, and it eases your nerves, so you don't mind.
"Thank you for coming with me," you say with a smile.
Steve returns your smile warmly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "I wouldn't have let you come alone."
"It's gonna be hard to get rid of you for the next few months, isn't it?" you ask jokingly.
He chuckles, "Harder than you could even know, honey," he answers, a grin on his face. "I missed you, and I have a lot of making up to do, y'know. But I promise to try not to be too overbearing."
A mischievous grin curves your lips upwards. "I guess you're not the worst company I could have," you respond.
Steve's eyebrows furrow at your playful response, but before he can respond, the lab door opens. Tony walks in with a cup of coffee in one hand and a tablet in the other. He raises an eyebrow when he spots Steve's hand in yours as he takes a sip of his coffee.
"Well, well, well. This a reunion of some sort?" he quips with a smirk.
You smile at his familiar unserious demeanor. "Of some sort," you reply, shrugging your shoulders, "Hi, Tony."
"Kid, always a pleasure," he smiles at you as he saunters over to his desk next to you. His eyes rake over the blond beside you, and he acknowledges him with only a brief nod and a, "And Steve, you're here too."
You cringe at the tension between the two of them, a tension so thick that not even the sharpest blade could cut through it. Tony's been protective of you since a few months after you were brought onto the team. He treated you like you were a daughter and a teammate, on and off the field, and the protectiveness was almost endearing. However, even if it wasn't your fault, you hadn't wished to ruin the somewhat decent relationship between Steve and Tony.
"Play nice, please. He's trying," you say in an attempt to ease the conflict.
Tony takes a seat in his desk chair, not looking away from his computer as he replies, "Where was the trying two months ago? 'Cause that seemed like quite the opposite of 'trying' to me."
"Tony-"
"No, it's okay. I get it," Steve interjects, "Look, Tony, I messed up and I know it, alright? I can't change what I did, but I thought I was doing what was best for her. Now I know it wasn't, and I'm trying to make up for it. From now on, I'm going to be here for her- for her our baby."
"You're damn right you messed up," Tony retorts with a scoff, his eyes scanning over the chart on his computer.
You sigh deeply and rub your free hand over your face in defeat. "You are impossible," you say dejectedly. "Please, Tony, just try to be civil. For me."
Tony sighs just as you did, and after a moment, his gaze finally shifts from his screen over to you. He spins in his chair to fully face you, his legs crossed. Your bottom lip sticks out in a mock pout as you tilt your head to the side, and you can tell Tony's trying not to crack a smile at you.
"You forgive him?" he questions.
"I'm...," you trail, stealing a quick glance towards Steve. "Yeah, I'm working on it."
Turning his head only slightly, Tony gives Steve a once-over. His narrowed eyes bear into Steve's like he's trying to gauge his sincerity. Tony leans back in his chair after a moment and takes a long sip of his coffee. His expression softens slightly, and he takes a deep breath as he sits his cup down.
"Listen. She's my family, and they," he nods toward your stomach, "are family too. I don't agree with your choices, but I do trust her judgment. Besides, I guess all this means you're family now too. But you better keep your damn word, Rogers."
Steve gives a genuine smile, nodding briefly. "I plan to."
"You hear that? 'You're family.' That's the closest you'll get to his good side," you joke, offering a smile at Steve before turning your attention back to Tony. "Thank you for listening, Tony, it means a lot to me."
"Yeah, yeah," Tony grumbles in a nonchalant tone. "Now that we're done with the therapy session, we've got things to discuss, yeah?"
You glance knowingly at Steve, and Tony catches it. Another exasperated sigh falls from his lips. He runs a hand over his face before setting both of his hands in his lap.
"And what else is there now? I know that look, y/n," Tony says.
"I should probably be the one to explain it, huh?" Steve asks, his eyes meeting yours. He continues when you nod at him, "I think you should know why I left."
Tony's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "I don't need to know the details of your relationship."
"It's important," Steve states, his tone serious and stern.
"Alright, then. Hit me with it."
And hit him with it, he does. Steve takes a deep breath, steeling himself to reveal the truth. He begins to recount the events that led up to the last few months. From the Hydra mission up to last night when Bucky set out to find Hawthorne. He explains the possible leads, the potential dangers, and how he plans to fix them.
Tony's expression remains unreadable as Steve speaks, but there's an occasional flash of anger in his eyes. Though, behind all that anger, there lies a deep worry; a concern for you and your baby.
When Steve stops speaking, there's nothing but a dense silence left. All that tension from earlier seeps back into the room. Tony lets out a mix of a scoff and a sigh, cutting through the silence.
"Unbelievable. This sounds like a corny soap opera," Tony mumbles to himself. "I mean, Jesus, Steve. Leaving her to protect her? That actually has to be the most cliché thing I've ever heard. And I don't have to tell you that it was idiotic and completely reckless too, right? If you were so concerned for her safety then leaving her by herself, pregnant and unprotected was the dumbest decision you could have made."
"I didn't know she was-"
"It doesn't matter," Tony interrupts, his voice flat and void of emotion, "either way, she'd have been alone. And you should've told me this immediately, I could've helped."
Steve winces at the harsh tone and the truth about his actions. "I know. It was stupid- I was stupid. It doesn't make sense, and it probably never will, but I was afraid that me being around would make her easier to find. I just wanted to protect her, and that hasn't changed, it's why I'm here for good now," he explains truthfully.
Tony takes a minute to absorb Steve's piece. You watch as his stern expression tones down just a bit as he tosses the information thrown at him in his brain. He finally leans back in his chair again, looking at Steve with frustration and an ounce of understanding in his eyes.
Tony rubs the stubble on his chin, trying to put together the words he wants to say before eventually speaking up, "You truly thought you being around put her in more danger? Do you realize we've been able to keep her protected this whole time? Or have you forgotten that she's been living at the compound, one of the most secure places on Earth?" he questions.
"I knew she would come here, the only other place she would be safe. That's the only reason I let her leave the apartment in the first place," Steve responds as he looks down, his gaze dropping to your intertwined hands.
Tony's eyes meet yours. "You really love this old idiot, don't you?"
"I do," you reply, a warm smile gracing your features, "He's my old idiot."
Steve bites back a chuckle and debates quipping back, but decides against it. "I care about her a lot more than I've shown in the last two months, Tony. I love her and our unborn baby more than anything I've ever loved, and I can promise you that," Steve says, desperate to express the honesty in everything he's said.
"She was your fiancée, I hope you'd love her," Tony answers with a chuckle. "I don't doubt your feelings for her, even though I disagree with how you show them, but I won't see her hurt again. She's the closest thing I have to a daughter, Rogers, so don't do anything else stupid."
Steve's body relaxes some at the eased tension. "I know she is, Tony. And I won't do anything stupid, I can't afford to."
You squeeze Steve's hand gently in a reassuring manner. Relief rushes over you as the two men come to a somewhat agreement. And with the air cleared, along with some understanding reached, the conversation transitions into the situation at hand.
"I can help with tracking him down- Hawthorne, I mean," Tony assures both of you, "but until then, I'm putting in more security measurements. I'm finding a new safehouse, installing more intricate security, and making sure we're prepared for anything. That also means no more missions for either of you for the time being, obviously."
The two of you nod in agreement with his plan. Over the next few hours, you, Steve, and Tony continue to work out the details. It's clear that both of them are dedicated to ensuring you and your child's safety, and that's the only thing that keeps you calm.
You agree to stay in the compound until it's all worked out, deeming it the safest place for you. Tony gives you his word that he'll work on finding more leads, and keep good track of Bucky, along with making sure you have everything you need. And by the time the little meeting concludes, you're drained and exhausted. Yet, you also feel a renewed sense of hope in safety for your soon-to-be family.
"Before you go, we need to discuss what you came here for; the baby," Tony says, picking up his tablet. "I can get you in for an appointment with the best obstetrician gynecologist I have. I pulled some strings, and she can see you tomorrow at eleven in the med-bay."
"And you'll be there?" you inquire.
"Of course I will. It's important that you see someone soon given that your condition is... unique. You're still human, just genetically enhanced by your parents' DNA," Tony explains, occasionally glancing up at you from his tablet. "And the baby is definitely enhanced too, so we need to make sure everything is stable. It also wouldn't hurt to have Banner run some tests to see if you've got any of your birth mother's abilities."
"But she-" Steve starts, only to be cut off by Tony.
"I know, I know. Just let me finish. We'll be careful with expanding on her powers if she's got 'em, don't worry," he promises with a brief chuckle.
Steve gives a chuckle of his own. "Thank you, for everything."
"It's no problem. Y/n, I'll send you the details for your appointment- the doctor's information and all. I can also arrange a bigger room for the two of you if that's something you'd like."
You turn to face Steve, reading over his expression. His eyes meet yours, and you can tell he wants to ask you to agree to live with him again. He'd never ask you outright since you'd just begun mending your relationship and he doesn't want to rush you, so he pleads with his eyes.
The corners of your mouth turn upwards into a half-smile at his protectiveness over you and the baby. It's heartwarming, and reassuring of the fact that your baby couldn't have a better father. You turn back to Tony after a few seconds and offer a nod.
"I think that'd be best," you conclude.
Gently, Steve brings your intertwined hands to his lips to press a kiss onto your hand. You can feel him smile against your skin before he places your hands in his lap.
Tony sighs in dramatic relief. "It's great that you say that, actually. I have a bigger suite here that's just been gathering dust," he says with a grin, "I had it cleaned out last night with every intention of giving it to you anyway."
"A suite? You have entirely too much money," you tease, returning his playful grin.
"Another 'thank you,' works just fine, y'know," Tony huffs as he rolls his eyes, scribbling on a post-it note he had sitting on his desk.
His lips form into a smile to show his amusement before reaching out to hand you the paper he wrote on. "Your door and elevator code. Also, you're on the second to top floor. I'll get everything else fixed up in there during your appointment tomorrow. And If you need anything, day or night, you call me, got it?"
The two of you stand as you say, "Got it. Thanks again, Tony."
As you leave the lab, Steve wraps an arm around your waist, and you lean into his side. Both of you step into the elevator and he reaches forward to press the button for your new floor. When the elevator doors close, he pulls you in front of him to wrap his arms around you in a delicate embrace. Your head rests lightly on his chest, listening to the familiar beat of his heart that you'd never tire of hearing.
"I hope you didn't feel pressured into us living together again, but I'm glad you agreed to it," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Just wanna keep both of you safe."
The elevator softly hums as you're cocooned in Steve's embrace. His warmth envelops you, providing you its usual comforting relaxation. You tilt your head upwards to look at him with a reassuring, soft smile on your face.
"I agreed because it feels right," you say sincerely. "I want us to be a family, we deserve it, and our baby deserves it."
Steve's grip on you tightens. "I'm so lucky to have you," he whispers, his lips brushing against your forehead. "You're everything I've ever wanted."
You ponder your next words carefully, but blurt them out before you can overthink them, "I love you."
His eyes light up as his hand raises to caress your cheek affectionately. "And I love you, my pretty girl."
The elevator dings as his lips press onto your forehead. You turn around in his arms to enter the code you'd been given, waiting for the doors to open.
The light above the keypad flashes green and the doors creak as they open to reveal a rather empty hallway. It only has one door, and it's obviously newer just like Tony said, but the emptiness is still off-putting. You and Steve share a quick, puzzled glance with each other. His hold on you drops so you can get out of the elevator, but his hand remains on your lower back.
You approach the single door and enter the other code written down. The door slides open with a quiet click to reveal your new, spacious suite. You step inside and Steve follows close behind you. The space is tastefully furnished, though obviously decorated by Tony, with more modern-looking décor.
The suite is larger than your old shared apartment with a ridiculously large kitchen and living room. In the living room are windows that go from the floor to the ceiling, and what you assume are blackout curtains hanging up above them. The light from the cityscape shines brightly through the windows, making the light yellow walls look almost white.
The living room seamlessly flows into the dining area which has a large table with a bouquet of fresh flowers on it. The entire room has an inviting and homely feel, a stark contrast to the high-tech atmosphere of the rest of the compound.
"It's so pretty," you beam.
Steve's eyes scan the new surroundings before his gaze lands back on you. "It is," he replies, smiling at the way you admire the room. "I'm glad you like it, honey."
With Steve's hand in yours, you pull him from the living room to the first bedroom, and then the second. The first room is the master bedroom and it's almost double the size of your room at the apartment. It's got a king-sized bed and a bay window with a little bay window couch that would definitely be used as a reading nook. There's also a walk-in closet along with a sizeable bathroom that has a white marble bathtub and a rainfall shower.
The second room is smaller, but still bigger than the typical room. It's a nursery, or at least it will be soon. The room was empty other than the white cushioned rocking chair in the corner, sitting next to a bookshelf that was filled with baby books. Your heart swells with joy at the gesture, also picking up on how Tony left the room plain for you to decorate however you wanted. Just as you're about to speak, your gaze gravitates towards the chair again. Your eyes narrow slightly as you drop Steve's hand and walk towards it.
You recognize it once you get closer. It was yours. It's the same chair your adoptive mother read to you in every night until you were seven. What truly gave it away was the embroidered bottom cushion that read "E.C. + y/n." You had no idea how Tony had gotten his hands on it, but it meant everything to you. You run your fingers delicately along the old wooden armrest that had seemingly been polished.
Steve leans against the door frame, quietly watching you with observing eyes. "Dove? You okay?"
"It's... Yeah, I'm okay. It's just that, this is my mom's chair, Stevie," you reply with a warm smile, a stray tear streaming down your cheek as you turn to face him.
He steps into the room, making his way over to you, and wipes your tears away with his thumb. "I'm glad you have it here, I know you don't have many of her things," he sympathizes with a soft voice. "And now you get to make your own, brand new memories in it with our baby."
Your body relaxes under his touch, your arms wrapping around him in a hug. His arms enclose you into a tight, yet still delicate, embrace as his hands rub your back slowly. For a minute or two, you stay like that, and Steve doesn't mind at all. When you do pull away, you back up to look over the room once more.
"We'll have to decorate in here," you state, already imagining the different things you could do with the space.
"I'm sure you'll make it beautiful, honey," Steve smiles, his blue eyes twinkling with adoration. "Of course I plan on being involved, but you've always been the better decorator out of the two of us."
You chuckle and your hand rests instinctively on your still-flat stomach. "I'll let you pick out a decorative toy or something," you joke lightly.
He grins at your comment, "Just one toy, huh? I'll have to make sure it's a good one then."
"Doing this by myself would be too much work anyway," you say with a smirk. "I'm just kidding. You can help as much as you'd like, maybe help with some of the other rooms too."
"I'm looking forward to it," he responds, interlocking his fingers with yours. "But for now, let's go get some food in you, yeah?"
You nod, your stomach rumbling quietly at the mention of food, and Steve leads you into the kitchen. He, yet again, insists that you sit and let him cook.
"Steve, I'm not incapa-" you try to protest as you follow him into the kitchen, only to be cut off by his expression.
His eyes narrow in mock sternness, his head nodding in the direction of the plush barstools. "Wasn't a request, sweetheart. Sit, and you can help tomorrow."
Your hands fly up in defeat, showcasing your surrender. "Alright, alright, I'm sitting."
Steve grins in triumph before getting to work in the pre-stocked kitchen. You plop down on the barstool closest to the kitchen entrance to watch him. Attentively, your eyes stay glued onto him, admiring everything about him. He moves with such an ease that suggests he wasn't lying about practicing his skill.
The scent of the food cooking, and the familiar sounds of Steve's movements, almost make you feel like you're meant to be here. Everything feels like it's coming full circle, returning to the life you had before everything that's happened. The only difference now is the baby. And that's not something you'd trade for the world. It's a good change, the kind of change you don't expect and never knew you needed.
After a while, Steve slides your plates onto the dining room table before ushering you to sit down with him. Both of you enjoy the food, and each other's company, talking about your plans for the nursery and the near future. Although he doesn't want to be overbearing, he can't help but want to be a part of everything.
"I don't want to push things, so if you need me to sleep on the couch until you're comfortable, then I will," he says, pushing his empty plate forward so he can rest his forearms on the table.
"Steve," you begin softly, reaching across the table to place your hand on top of his, "As much as I appreciate that, you don't have to sleep on the couch. I'm giving us another shot. I mean, your baby has kind of taken over my uterus, so I feel like we're far beyond sleeping separately now."
Steve chuckles at your choice of words, his demeanor becoming more casual again. "I'm just trying to give you your space," he responds genuinely before asking, "Do you think you'll feel at home here?"
"I got used to being in the tower again, but I don't think it'll ever feel like our home. This place is nice and mellow, though, so that helps some," you answer, a contented sigh falling from your lips. "I don't know, do you think you will? I guess for me, this place will work until I get that white picket fence," you say with a reminiscent smile, recounting the memory of him promising you that future.
For a second, he's silent with an unreadable expression as if he was living in that very moment. Then he meets your gaze with a fond smile of his own. "You still remember that?"
"Of course I do," you reply, chuckling softly. "I remember everything about us."
Steve's thumb brushes over the back of your hand in a slow, affectionate manner. "Good, because I meant every word, and I still do. And about this place, it is nice, but my home is wherever you are. Hell, you are my home, dove."
Your heart murmurs at his words, and a warmth washes over you. It's like all the pain and uncertainty of the last few months are melting away. Deep down, you're still cautious, but even you can't deny the sincerity in his eyes.
With a gentle tone, you say, "I missed you more than you know. I love you, Steve."
He gets up from his chair, coming to stand beside you. As he leans down, his large hand cups your cheek, and his thumb traces lines on your cheekbone.
His eyes don’t leave yours as he murmurs, “Can I?”
"Please do," you reply, your voice soft and meek.
Without hesitation, Steve leans down to capture your lips in a tender, lingering kiss. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck. His lips feel familiar on yours, and it gives you a unique sense of belonging that only he can provide. When he pulls away after a few seconds, his forehead rests on yours.
"I love you with everything I've got," he promises.
if i forgot your tag, or you want to be added to the tag list for this series and/or anything else i write, *let me know here*, leave a comment, or message me <3
pairing: steve rogers x fem/afab reader.
word count: 6k (im so sorry this is so long :'))
summary: flashback from the photo of steve's birthday at the beach as mentioned in chapters two and three :)
warnings: swearing, smut implications/mentions, smut (unprotected sex, appraisal, fingering & oral (f receiving)) it's really just filth, guys
a/n: a sweet little filler chapter before actual chapter 6 comes out later although it could be read as a one-shot, technically. if you're on my taglist and are uncomfortable with smut please let me know so i can remove you from tags in future chapters/fillers with smut :)
The salty beach air fills your lungs as the night breeze tousles your hair. You lay in Steve's lap with your head resting on his broad chest as he admires you, the warm sand feeling like a soft blanket under you. A smile that matches his perfectly is etched on your face, both of you soaking in the moment.
His heartbeat was almost in tune with the soothing sound of the crashing waves. The rhythmic beating of his heart would typically put you to sleep- but in this case, Bucky was currently sitting across from you two holding your last piece of Steve's birthday cake.
You exchange a playful glance with Bucky; his eyes narrow at you and you stick your tongue out at him in retaliation. The cake had been the hottest commodity that day and the fight for the last piece had come down to this intimidating final round of rock, paper, scissors.
Tony, Nat, and Pepper walk by right as you're about to throw out your hands, but Tony stops to say, "I hope she beats you," with a smirk on his face. Bucky grumbles and shoots him a glare but you smile up at him instead.
"Thank you, Tony," you say.
"Always," Tony grins.
Steve laughs at the stark contrast in expressions between you and Bucky. Before Bucky can say anything, Tony snaps a picture of the three of you and scurries off to catch up to Pepper and Nat.
"And there he goes," you giggle, earning a chuckle from the blond behind you.
"Alright you two, on the count of three," Steve says, ever the referee, "One... two... three!" he counts out.
You and Bucky throw out your hands with one swift and synchronized movement to reveal your chosen moves. Bucky's paper covers your rock; he chuckles lowly as you groan.
A dramatic sigh escapes your lips and you look up at Steve with a frown. He smiles down at you, his fingers gently tugging mindlessly on the thin straps of your bikini bottoms.
"I lost," you say, faking a frown.
"Don't worry, I'm sure Buck was gonna share with you, sweetheart," he replies softly.
"Oh, was he?"
"Of course, baby." Steve leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "It's my birthday, and I say you can have a bite."
Bucky raises an eyebrow at the two of you. "Since when can you auction up somebody else's food, punk?" he asks, an obvious smirk in his voice.
"Like I said, it is my birthday, so that has to count for something, right?" Steve says with a shrug. "Plus, she's got on my favorite bikini- I'd give her whatever she asks for right now," he adds.
And he wasn't lying, the bikini is his favorite of yours. The hues mimicked that of a sunset and complimented your skin just right.
Bucky shakes his head in mock disbelief. "I guess I can't argue with that," he concedes, bringing a forkful of cake to your mouth.
You smile and take a bite from the fork, the chocolate flavor melting in your mouth. "Thanks, Buck."
"Can't say no to either of you anyways," Bucky grins.
You beam, "We know."
With the cake situation now, somewhat peacefully, resolved, you settle back into the comfort of Steve's arms. Bucky leans backwards to rest on his forearms in the sand, placing the now empty plate on the ground. The waves continue their gentle lullaby, the stars twinkle brightly, and the world feels perfect- whole, even.
Bucky breaks the silence, "So, Steve, do you feel old yet?"
Steve shoots him a playful glare, "Hey, you're right up there with me, Buck. Besides, she keeps me young," he states.
"Oh, really? Cause I think I see a grey hair right there," Bucky snickers, pointing up at Steve's hair.
"You weren't supposed to tell him, Buck," you say, joining in on the teasing.
"Well, if I do have any it's because of the two of you," Steve jokes back.
"I guess we'll just have to keep him feeling young then, won't we, doll?" Bucky grins as he winks at you. "As much as I enjoy the banter, I think I'm gonna go for a swim, either of you interested in coming?" Bucky asks as he rises to his feet.
The offer is tempting, but it dims in comparison to Steve's warm chest. It also dims in comparison to what you know is to come if you don't go swimming. You tilt your head up at Steve, exchanging a knowing glance with him.
You direct your attention back to Bucky and shake your head at him. "No, think I'm good right here, Buck. You go enjoy the water, though."
Steve nods in agreement with you. "We'll catch up with you later?"
Bucky offers a small smile. "Alright, you two enjoy your alone time then," he says before making his way towards the inviting waves.
Steve, once Bucky is far enough away, wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. "Honey, have I mentioned how good you look in that?" he asks, fingers tugging at your bottoms again.
"Not nearly enough," you answer, looking up at him again.
"Well isn't that just a shame? Guess I'll have to make up for it then," he murmurs.
Steve's free hand cups your cheek then he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. The taste of chocolate faintly lingers on your tongue as his lips work against yours. His hand makes its way from your cheek into your hair, fingers running themselves through the damp strands.
His eyes meet yours when he pulls away. "I love you."
"And I love you," you reply lovingly.
He starts to pepper slow kisses along your jaw to make his way down your neck. The sensation makes you shiver as a sigh of pleasure falls from your lips. His trail comes to a halt when he gets just below your ear.
"No one's in the beach house, you know," Steve says quietly, his voice husky in your ear. "You think we should take this inside, poppet?"
"I think that's a fantastic idea, Captain."
He doesn't allow for another second to pass before untangling his arms from around your waist. After rising to his feet, he offers out a hand to help you up; you accept with a smile. Both of you walk hand in hand to the beach house, the anticipation of being alone with you making Steve's steps a bit quicker than yours.
The inside of the beach house is only lit up by a few stray candles and the moonlight pouring in from the sunroof in the kitchen. The house was fairly huge and housed the entire team, so it was unreasonably dark downstairs.
A yelp escapes you when Steve lifts you effortlessly into his arms to carry you bridal style. He slides you onto the kitchen counter and then pulls you as close to the edge as possible without you falling off. He spreads your legs allowing room for him to stand in between them.
"Was gonna take you to the bedroom but I don't think I can wait that long," he says with a mischievous grin.
You giggle in response and he seizes the opportunity to take you in while he's got it. The moonlight casts its glow down on you as if it's illuminating you just for him. Your hair appears soft and silky under the delicate white light, eyes twinkling when you look up at him through your lashes. His heart hammers in his chest at the sight of you. The corners of his lips turn up when he leans down to rest his forehead against yours.
"Happy birthday, Steve," you whisper, your hand raising to rest on his cheek.
His eyes close as he leans into your touch. "Thank you, my darling girl," he murmurs. "You're the best birthday gift I could ask for."
Eagerly, he closes the gap between you two, and his mouth meets yours in a passionate kiss. Large hands trace along the curves of your body, his kisses becoming more hungry by the second. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip; you debate testing his patience but find yourself too needy and allow him entry.
Your tongues dance together in a slow rhythm as his hand slides up your back and to the clasp of your bikini top. Steve unhooks the top and slides it down your shoulders. He tosses the fabric beside you as his lips continue to work against yours. He kisses you once more, slowly, then tugs your bottom lip between his teeth gently. His mouth trails from your jawline to your neck to leave fleeting kisses, stopping a few times to softly nip at the flesh.
Your eyes close, head tilting back in relaxing pleasure while he moves lower down your chest. His breath fans over one of your hardened nipples before he takes it into his mouth. You sigh wantonly and allow your fingers to run through his hair. His warm tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, his hand coming up to squeeze your other breast.
The sensation makes you shiver, your back arches and you press your body closer to his as if begging for more- and he gives it to you. His fingers roll your nipple between them as he sucks on the other. You whine softly, hips bucking up into his chest. Your noises go straight to his throbbing, hardened cock; the vibrations from his low grunt force a whimper out of you.
Much to your dismay, he releases your nipple from his grasp and then from his mouth. His lips leave a trail of searing kisses down your abdomen until he reaches the top of your bikini bottoms. He hooks his fingers under the sides of your bikini bottoms and steps back to pull them down your legs.
He returns back to his spot between your legs, his hand traveling down to your inner thigh only for his digits to dance their way up to your heat. His eyes meet yours and you gasp quietly when he slowly drags his finger through your wetness.
"God, you're wet, honey. That all for me?" Steve teases as he continues the tantalizing motion.
When he dips the tip of his finger into your opening, teasing your entrance slowly, all you can muster up is a nod. He pulls the digit out and allows it to find your throbbing clit. Slowly, he circles the sensitive bundle of nerves as he leans in closer to brush his lips against yours briefly.
"I believe I asked you a question, and I want to hear an answer."
Your breath hitches in your throat when he applies more pressure on you. "I-it's all for you, Stevie- promise."
"That's my girl," he praises, his words sweeter than honey.
His touch withdraws but he lowers himself, almost instantly, to his knees in front of you. Though he's got heightened senses, he's not sure that explains why he can smell your dripping cunt only inches from his face. It's a good smell, an intoxicating one at that, and it's sickeningly sweet.
Steve sighs while pressing tender kisses up your inner thigh, his breath fanning your skin. "Been waiting for this all day," he breathes out.
He places a gentle kiss onto your aching bud before flattening his tongue on your wet cunt. His tongue drags upwards a few times, soft sighs falling from your mouth as he parts your slick folds slowly. You gasp at the sudden sensation and try to grind onto his face, begging for more, but he doesn't give in.
Strong hands make their way to hold your thighs in place so you can't move as easily. He ends the teasing by sucking harshly on your clit, releasing it with a 'pop.' His mouth sucks your clit back into his mouth softer than before while his tongue flicks out at the same time. Your hands tangle themselves into his hair as his mouth works on you. Your breath comes out in fast, quiet pants and you buck your hips onto his face again.
This time he allows you to do so- his large and slightly calloused hands tighten on your thighs to pull you closer to his face. He lets one hand slide up your body to cup your breast and pinch your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. Then his tongue glides from your entrance to just below your clit and back again, stopping every few laps to draw small circles on your throbbing bud. Ever so attentive, he notices how your hand tugs on his hair a little harder when he teases your opening.
You frown, whining when he stops his motions and removes his mouth. Your whine is quickly replaced with a mewl when he spreads your warmth open to allow his tongue to slither into you. He's fucking his tongue in and out of you; he swirls it inside of you to lap up your arousal, not wanting to waste a drop of your slightly sweet slick as if he's absolutely starved.
Your grip on the counter tightens at every thrust of his tongue. You shiver, your body aching and yearning for release. Steve's cock throbs, aching to be inside of you with every moan, whine, or whimper that comes from your lips. No matter how badly he wants to palm himself through his shorts, he knows it'll provide no relief- his relief always and only comes after yours.
Your lower half scoots towards him again in need of more of him. "Steve," you whimper with a trembling voice.
His only response is a growl of approval that sends delicious vibrations to your core as his tongue works even harder in your cunt. Still tweaking your nipple with his fingers, he uses his other hand to rub circles on your swollen clit again.
As your moans grow louder and more strung together, Steve finds himself growing needier. His movements grow quicker, less in sync, and he brings you to the edge only to balance you there. With fingers tangled in his hair and nails scratching almost animalistically at his back, you whine as he sucks on your opening with his tongue still inside of you.
All it takes is a few precise licks upwards against your g-spot for you to let go. Your surroundings shatter into a kaleidoscope of pleasure as you cry out his name repeatedly like it's a prayer. Steve doesn't let up, though, and he continues his movements to make the most of your bliss. Your hand tugs hard in his hair, your body shuddering uncontrollably as he coaxes you through your orgasm.
Steve only stops when your whines of pleasure turn into those of discomfort. He pulls back from between your thighs to stand up and his lips and stubbled chin glisten with your juices. His chest heaves as the evident bulge in his swim shorts twitches. Of course, you're no expert, but the way his pants are straining against his cock even looks painful.
Your gaze locks with his and your breaths begin to slow back to normal. "Stevie," you mumble with a weak smile.
He smiles back at your drowsiness as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "You did so good for me, honey," he says gently before stepping back in between your legs. He leans in close to your face, eyes scanning over you for a moment. "God, how did I get someone as breathtaking as you?"
Steve's eyes fill with adoration upon hearing your giggle as he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a deep, loving kiss. The taste of your own arousal on his lips and tongue fuels the fire growing in your stomach again. His hands find your hips and pull you closer. A moan passes from your mouth and into his as his mouth moves in sync with yours.
"Fuck," he grunts, his voice low and husky as he murmurs against your lips, "I need to be inside of you- please tell me you want more."
"I do," you reply, your voice not coming out as more than a fervent whisper.
He steps back a little then reaches down and unties his shorts. The fabric falls to his ankles and exposes all of him to you. His perfectly sculpted body tenses for a second when his cock springs up and hits his abdomen.
"Wanna slide off that counter for me, poppet?"
The request confuses you, but you comply nonetheless. Your legs are still a little jelly-like from your previous orgasm as you slide off of the counter. You look up at him through your lashes and almost melt under his intense gaze.
"Sit," he instructs, nodding towards the bar stool beside you.
Again, you do as you're told. You take a seat on the edge of the stool with your legs spread just far enough to give Steve the perfect view of your bare, dripping cunt. His eyes focus on nothing but the view you've given him, his hard cock twitching at the sight. Piercing blue eyes snap up to meet yours again within seconds.
He steps closer to you until his chest is mere inches from yours. "Such a pretty little thing. You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?"
A smirk spreads on your lips. "No," you lie.
His eyebrow cocks up at you, his stare becoming more intense. He does not buy the feigned innocence, but that's what makes the fun, right? Fingers reach out to dance across your inner thigh as his lips curl into a smirk.
"You've always been a horrible liar, angel," he purrs.
Slowly, and teasingly, he slides the reddened tip of his cock through your wet warmth. Every stroke between your folds sends your mind into overdrive. You reach up to grab his upper arm, urging him to look at you.
"Need you, Stevie. Don't make me wait any longer please," you beg, locking eyes with him.
His lips curl into a knowing grin. "Oh, my pretty girl. I'll give you what you want now, hm?" he coos before beginning to push himself inside you.
A low rumble sounds from his chest when your tightness pulls him in more than he'd wanted. He pauses momentarily then starts to sink deeper into you again; this time he moves much slower to savor the feeling. The antagonizing slowness at which he slides into you makes your breath catch in your throat; it only takes a few seconds for him to fill you completely though, his thick cock stretching you out.
He pauses, waiting for you to adjust, and peppers kisses on your face. You smile and scrunch your nose up at the sudden influx of kisses. His lips capture yours in a slow, gentle kiss. He stops to rest his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses touching.
"Can I move, sweet girl?"
You nod, head tipping back in pleasure as he starts to pull out. The tip of his cock almost slides out but he eases back into you before it does. Your fingers trace the defined lines on his abdomen and he shutters at the sensation. He repeats the process a few times, each time pushing just a bit deeper into you.
"Need more, Stevie," you whine.
"A little desperate t'night, huh?" he taunts with a chuckle, "Guess we should hurry up since it's getting late; anybody could walk in now."
"I don't care," you grunt, voice hitching when he slides back inside of you with ease.
"'Course you don't," he grins knowingly, "Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
You give him a playful glare as he continues to tease you, "Steve, just stop teasing me already," you pant, your nails digging into his back.
He leans down and in closer to your face, his breath tickling the tip of your nose, "Okay, darling," he says as he places a kiss on your nose.
With that, he withdraws almost fully before driving back into you with an urgency that forces you to cry out in pleasure. You gasp and your hands clutch at his shoulders for support. His hips collide with yours harshly, and the bar stool creaks in protest against the intensity of his thrusts. The world narrows down to just the feeling of Steve inside you, filling you completely in the way only he can. Your grip on his shoulders tightens, your fingernails leaving crescent-shaped imprints on his skin.
"You're so fuckin tight and so- God, so perfect, angel," he grunts out, his hips rocking into you at an unreasonably fast pace. "I swear you were made just for me."
Your heart swells at his appraisal, yet you find yourself unable to conjure up any real words. Chills run through you as his hands roam your body, worshiping every curve and contour. Fingers brush along the skin of your thighs and ignite sparks of pleasure as you arch your back. Your moans mix with groans of his own to create a symphony of ecstasy that echoes throughout the moonlit kitchen.
Steve's pace doesn't falter, not even for a second, his relentless thrusts filling the room with the sound of skin slapping skin. His gaze lingers on you with an intensity that borders on primal, the love and desire in his eyes fueling the fire between your legs.
"Tell me who you belong to, baby," he growls demandingly, his thumb now tracing circles on your overly sensitive clit.
You're lost in a haze of pleasure, soft gasps escaping your parted lips. Your fingers scratch at Steve's back in response to his animalistic thrusts. The dual sensations of the tip of his cock brushing your g-spot and his thumb teasing your bud threaten to send you over the edge. If it weren't for the light slap he gives your clit, a reminder that he won't take 'no answer' for an answer, you would've forgotten he said anything.
"Y-you, Steve," you manage to stammer with a shaky voice, "I belong to you, 'm all yours."
Steve almost loses it then and there. His brows furrow, his head tips back a little, and a deep groan sounds from his chest. His free hand now holds onto your hip as he drives himself deeper inside you.
"Fuck, I love hearing you say it," Steve growls, his breath coming in ragged huffs, "You're all mine, every single inch of you."
He leans down to press his lips to yours in a feverish kiss, his tongue tangling with yours. Your whines and moans are muffled by his mouth as your body quivers at his powerful rhythm. Your breathless affirmations only aid in fueling Steve's unwavering passion, his thumb rubbing faster circles. The stool creaks under you at the intensity of his movements, and the pleasure builds like a wave that steadily crashes over you.
Steve's lips trail from your lips to your chin and then along your jawline. He makes his way down your neck, leaving rough kisses and the occasional nibble on your delicate skin.
"C'mon, say my name, angel. Let everyone know who the only one who can make you feel this good is," he urges as he continues to kiss your neck.
You don't hesitate when his pace somehow quickens, your voice dripping with need, "Steve! Oh, my God- make me feel s-so good."
His head pulls away from your neck, his icy blue eyes finding yours immediately, "That's right, nobody else can make you feel like this, can they, honey?"
Your voice quivers as you respond, "No one, Steve, only you."
A triumphant, cocky grin spreads across Steve's lips, "Always such a good girl for me," he praises.
Without another word, he adjusts his angle so his cock plunges deeper to hit that sweet spot head-on. Sparks of pleasure radiate through your body causing your hips to buck into his involuntarily. You can't help yourself, your body now writhing beneath his as you surrender to him.
His eyes never leave yours which does nothing but add to the intensity. You're teetering on the edge of release and you can see in the way he looks at you that he's right there with you.
"Steve... I'm- Oh, God," you gasp.
"I know," he groans, resting his forehead on yours, "You can let go with me. Come apart on my cock, angel."
And as if on cue, you do just that. You cry out his name again, the world around you blurring into static. Wave after wave of ecstasy, your body quivers uncontrollably as you reach your climax. Steve continues to thrust into you roughly with his own release not far behind; the feeling of his cock throbbing in you only intensifies your orgasm. Careful not to overwhelm you, his thumb pulls away from your clit.
"That's it, honey. Look so fuckin' pretty when you're clenching around me like that," he says, his voice husky and strained.
He leans in to kiss you deeply again and swallows your cries as his movements become erratic and somewhat sloppy. Your tight, needy cunt pulsating around him and pulling him in farther. With a carnal groan, he finds his release, his warm seed painting your insides. Soft pants fan against your lips while he whispers sweet praises to you, his thrusts coming almost to a standstill as he rides out his high. Your bodies are pressed tightly together by his arm looping around your waist, and your foreheads rest on each other's as you both catch your breath.
Steve gently pulls out of you, moving slowly so he doesn't hurt you. You wince a little at the sting of him leaving your warmth, already missing the sensation of his cock stretching you. His eyes meet yours to offer a silent apology for your soreness. He scoots over to the side, pulling a few paper towels off the roll and running them under the tap. Then he returns to his spot to lean down and clean you up, wiping up any trace of your shared passionate moment.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Steve questions, concern etched on his features when you shiver.
Your fingers reach out to brush his cheek, "I'm okay, just sensitive is all," you reassure him with a smile, "Thank you for taking such good care of me."
His lips curl into a soft smile as he continues his movements, "I'll always take good care of you, my sweet girl."
After he's finished, he cleans himself off and tosses the paper towels into the trash bin. Then he wipes down the counter with a cleaning wipe and tosses that too. He pulls his shorts back on before locating your bikini bottoms and top to help you put them on. His arms wrap around your waist to pull you into a hug. You snuggle into Steve's warm chest, your head resting on him as you listen to the familiar beating of his heart again. The tranquil crashing of the water outside the beach house provides a comforting background noise that could put you to sleep.
Steve presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, "I love you, sweetheart," he murmurs, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.
"I love you too, Stevie," you reply adoringly.
A brief moment of silence passes before he pulls away, his fingers tilting your chin so that you look up at him. "'M gonna marry you someday," he beams.
"I'll hold you to it," you joke, pressing your nose to his, "Do a few babies and a white picket fence by the beach come with it?"
Steve chuckles as he gives a peck to your lips, "That sounds perfect. But I'd give you whatever you want, darlin'- hell, I'd build the house myself if you asked me to," he says before pulling his face away from yours.
A warm smile stretches your lips, knowing he meant every word, "Well, I do like a man who's good with his hands and we've got time to plan it all out, don't we?"
Your joke earns a snicker from Steve, "All the time in the world, honey," he agrees with a contented sigh, his strong arms wrapping around you again.
The door of the beach house creaks open, but you're much too comfortable to care. Still, you turn your head to the side anyway. Bucky stands only a few feet away with his wet hair clinging to his forehead and a towel wrapped around his waist. He raises an eyebrow at the sight, taking in your messy hair and sleepy eyes along with Steve's bashful grin.
"Missed all the fun while I was out there, huh?" Bucky smirks, making his to the fridge behind Steve.
Steve responds with a smirk of his own, "Oh, you have no idea what you missed, Buck."
Bucky retrieves a bottle of water from the fridge, leaning against the kitchen island, "I can see that. You do look more radiant than usual, doll. What'd you do to her, Steve?" he says with a grin.
Steve leaves an arm slung lazily over your shoulders when he turns sideways to face the brunet fully, "Nothing special, y'know. Just did what I said I was going to: made a birthday wish with her and had a little...something..to eat," he replies, shrugging nonchalantly.
Bucky chokes a little on his water when he snorts at the implication, "Something to eat, huh?" he teases, "Well, don't let me be a bother, I'll just be here hydrating. I would offer you a bottle, but I'd say you already had enough 'hydration' for the day."
You and Steve exchange amused glances as you wrap your arms around his waist. Your head rests on his firm but comfortable chest while Bucky takes another sip of water, still grinning at the two of you.
These were the simple moments you loved, where it's just the three of you. You rather enjoyed seeing both of them together because it was refreshing to see how Steve relaxed when he was with only you and Bucky.
"You're right, I do think we've quenched our thirst quite well," you playfully reply, making Bucky nearly choke on his water again.
Bucky finally laughs, shaking his head at you as he tosses his empty bottle, "You're something else, you know that, doll?"
You chuckle, nestling closer to Steve, the post-orgasm bliss enveloping you, "I think it's safe to say I'm in good company then," you quip.
Bucky moves closer to the two of you, "Guess I can't argue with that, I'm not a great influence," he says, reaching out to ruffle your hair which earns a mock glare from Steve.
"Hey- get your own y/n, this one's all mine," Steve warns jokingly, his arm finding its place around your midsection again.
"Thought we shared everything, huh?" Bucky japes, grinning from ear to ear as he playfully jabs Steve's arm.
"Yeah, Stevie," you murmur, pinching his side, "Share."
"Sorry to say but I'm not sharing this one, Buck," Steve teases with a hint of possessiveness in his voice as he looks down at you, "And don't tell me you've fallen victim to his fake charm too, poppet."
"You know you'll always be my number one, Stevie. And you, Bucky, will always be my number one charismatic troublemaker," you beam, soaking in the warmth of what would become a sweet memory.
Bucky raises an eyebrow, "Well, aren't you just the sweetest tonight," he says, his tone laced with false indignation, "I suppose I can settle for being the charming troublemaker in this equation."
"I did not say charm-"
"It's what I heard," Bucky says with a smirk, cutting your sentence short.
You let out an exasperated sigh while shaking your head. Steve joins in, also shaking his head as he chuckles at the playful banter between you and his best friend. If it were all those years ago, Steve might've actually worried about you leaving him for Bucky. But it's not back then, and you're just so you, so he rarely worried about anything with you. And he liked it that way.
"I'm just playin' with you two. You know you're both like family to me, and you are a lucky guy, Steve," Bucky says, a heartfelt smile on his face.
"That I am," Steve agrees as his hand reaches up to caress your cheek, "I wouldn't trade this, or her, for anything."
Bucky lets out a contented sigh, "Think I'm gonna hit the shower and turn in for the night, it's getting a little late. Happy birthday again, punk."
"Thanks, Buck," Steve says warmly, "Have a good night."
You smile up at Bucky, "G'night, Buck."
Bucky nods at Steve, ruffling your hair once more, "Goodnight, doll. Don't let him keep you up too late," he says before heading towards the stairs.
When you hear the distant sound of the shower turning on, you turn your attention back to Steve. He looks down at you with a loving gaze as he rubs your side. Before you can speak, he removes his arm from your waist to scoop you up and set you on the counter again.
He's always preferred when you're at eye level with him so he can see your face up close; he can also keep you within reasonable kiss range- which was definitely the motive this time. His fingers trace your jawline as he leans in to kiss you tenderly. The taste of your juices still lingers on his lips, transferring to yours.
Steve pulls away slightly, "I truly am a lucky man, you know that, honey?" he states, recalling Bucky's statement from earlier in the night.
"And I'm the luckiest lady on the planet, Steve," you say, your voice filled with admiration.
"I love you, my sweet girl."
"I love you too, Stevie."
Your fingers softly trace the contours of his face, and he reciprocates the affection, his touch filled with fondness. His hand slides down to rest on your hip and he presses his lips to yours in yet another sweet, loving kiss.
"How about we get some rest?" he suggests after pulling away, "We've got a whole day ahead of us and I've got houses to start sketching, apparently."
You nod in agreement as you giggle and slide off the counter. Your hands lace with his, the two of you making your way to the bedroom. He takes his spot on the left side of the bed and waits for you to lay up next to him before pulling the blankets over you. His body provides a familiar warmth as he curls up behind you to hold you. Surrounded by the soothing sounds of the ocean and his comforting embrace, you begin to drift off.
Right as you're about to fall asleep, your phone, which was left on the nightstand beside you before you went to the beach for the day, dings three times. You reach over groggily and pull it into the bed with you. After unlocking it, you see on your lock screen that both messages are from Tony; one is an image and the other two are just regular texts.
The image is the one he took earlier of you, Steve, and Bucky. You save the picture, smiling warmly at it. Your smile fades to a grin when you read the texts.
Tone: "Would say hope you enjoyed yourself, but everyone out here already knows you did. P.s. clean everything anybody's ass touched, especially if it was his."
Tone: "Just kidding with ya, kid (not about the cleaning part-seriously). Tell the old man I said Happy Birthday again, love ya."
You giggle and write back a message saying, "we're not complete animals, geez. love you too, tone," before tucking your phone under your pillow and falling asleep. This day would be remembered fondly, and you were sure of it.
per usual, if i forgot your tag, or you want to be added to the tag list for this series and/or anything else i write, *let me know here*, leave a comment, or message me :)
Loved it. Question, where they ever using protection/birth control? Like Steve wanted everything with her, so het becoming pregnant was not an if, but a when.
no form of birth control was used, so it was definitely more of a when and not an if. but it was more of a wrong timing situation which i plan on expanding on in chapter 6 :)
word count: 6k (im so sorry this is so long :'))
summary: flashback from the photo of steve's birthday at the beach as mentioned in chapters two and three :)
warnings: swearing, smut implications/mentions, smut (unprotected sex, appraisal, fingering & oral (f receiving)) it's really just filth, guys
a/n: a sweet little filler chapter before actual chapter 6 comes out later although it could be read as a one-shot, technically.
The salty beach air fills your lungs as the night breeze tousles your hair. You lay in Steve's lap with your head resting on his broad chest as he admires you, the warm sand feeling like a soft blanket under you. A smile that matches his perfectly is etched on your face, both of you soaking in the moment.
His heartbeat was almost in tune with the soothing sound of the crashing waves. The rhythmic beating of his heart would typically put you to sleep- but in this case, Bucky was currently sitting across from you two holding your last piece of Steve's birthday cake.
You exchange a playful glance with Bucky; his eyes narrow at you and you stick your tongue out at him in retaliation. The cake had been the hottest commodity that day and the fight for the last piece had come down to this intimidating final round of rock, paper, scissors.
Tony, Nat, and Pepper walk by right as you're about to throw out your hands, but Tony stops to say, "I hope she beats you," with a smirk on his face. Bucky grumbles and shoots him a glare but you smile up at him instead.
"Thank you, Tony," you say.
"Always," Tony grins.
Steve laughs at the stark contrast in expressions between you and Bucky. Before Bucky can say anything, Tony snaps a picture of the three of you and scurries off to catch up to Pepper and Nat.
"And there he goes," you giggle, earning a chuckle from the blond behind you.
"Alright you two, on the count of three," Steve says, ever the referee, "One... two... three!" he counts out.
You and Bucky throw out your hands with one swift and synchronized movement to reveal your chosen moves. Bucky's paper covers your rock; he chuckles lowly as you groan.
A dramatic sigh escapes your lips and you look up at Steve with a frown. He smiles down at you, his fingers gently tugging mindlessly on the thin straps of your bikini bottoms.
"I lost," you say, faking a frown.
"Don't worry, I'm sure Buck was gonna share with you, sweetheart," he replies softly.
"Oh, was he?"
"Of course, baby." Steve leans down, his lips brushing your ear. "It's my birthday, and I say you can have a bite."
Bucky raises an eyebrow at the two of you. "Since when can you auction up somebody else's food, punk?" he asks, an obvious smirk in his voice.
"Like I said, it is my birthday, so that has to count for something, right?" Steve says with a shrug. "Plus, she's got on my favorite bikini- I'd give her whatever she asks for right now," he adds.
And he wasn't lying, the bikini is his favorite of yours. The hues mimicked that of a sunset and complimented your skin just right.
Bucky shakes his head in mock disbelief. "I guess I can't argue with that," he concedes, bringing a forkful of cake to your mouth.
You smile and take a bite from the fork, the chocolate flavor melting in your mouth. "Thanks, Buck."
"Can't say no to either of you anyways," Bucky grins.
You beam, "We know."
With the cake situation now, somewhat peacefully, resolved, you settle back into the comfort of Steve's arms. Bucky leans backwards to rest on his forearms in the sand, placing the now empty plate on the ground. The waves continue their gentle lullaby, the stars twinkle brightly, and the world feels perfect- whole, even.
Bucky breaks the silence, "So, Steve, do you feel old yet?"
Steve shoots him a playful glare, "Hey, you're right up there with me, Buck. Besides, she keeps me young," he states.
"Oh, really? Cause I think I see a grey hair right there," Bucky snickers, pointing up at Steve's hair.
"You weren't supposed to tell him, Buck," you say, joining in on the teasing.
"Well, if I do have any it's because of the two of you," Steve jokes back.
"I guess we'll just have to keep him feeling young then, won't we, doll?" Bucky grins as he winks at you. "As much as I enjoy the banter, I think I'm gonna go for a swim, either of you interested in coming?" Bucky asks as he rises to his feet.
The offer is tempting, but it dims in comparison to Steve's warm chest. It also dims in comparison to what you know is to come if you don't go swimming. You tilt your head up at Steve, exchanging a knowing glance with him.
You direct your attention back to Bucky and shake your head at him. "No, think I'm good right here, Buck. You go enjoy the water, though."
Steve nods in agreement with you. "We'll catch up with you later?"
Bucky offers a small smile. "Alright, you two enjoy your alone time then," he says before making his way towards the inviting waves.
Steve, once Bucky is far enough away, wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. "Honey, have I mentioned how good you look in that?" he asks, fingers tugging at your bottoms again.
"Not nearly enough," you answer, looking up at him again.
"Well isn't that just a shame? Guess I'll have to make up for it then," he murmurs.
Steve's free hand cups your cheek then he leans down to capture your lips in a kiss. The taste of chocolate faintly lingers on your tongue as his lips work against yours. His hand makes its way from your cheek into your hair, fingers running themselves through the damp strands.
His eyes meet yours when he pulls away. "I love you."
"And I love you," you reply lovingly.
He starts to pepper slow kisses along your jaw to make his way down your neck. The sensation makes you shiver as a sigh of pleasure falls from your lips. His trail comes to a halt when he gets just below your ear.
"No one's in the beach house, you know," Steve says quietly, his voice husky in your ear. "You think we should take this inside, poppet?"
"I think that's a fantastic idea, Captain."
He doesn't allow for another second to pass before untangling his arms from around your waist. After rising to his feet, he offers out a hand to help you up; you accept with a smile. Both of you walk hand in hand to the beach house, the anticipation of being alone with you making Steve's steps a bit quicker than yours.
The inside of the beach house is only lit up by a few stray candles and the moonlight pouring in from the sunroof in the kitchen. The house was fairly huge and housed the entire team, so it was unreasonably dark downstairs.
A yelp escapes you when Steve lifts you effortlessly into his arms to carry you bridal style. He slides you onto the kitchen counter and then pulls you as close to the edge as possible without you falling off. He spreads your legs allowing room for him to stand in between them.
"Was gonna take you to the bedroom but I don't think I can wait that long," he says with a mischievous grin.
You giggle in response and he seizes the opportunity to take you in while he's got it. The moonlight casts its glow down on you as if it's illuminating you just for him. Your hair appears soft and silky under the delicate white light, eyes twinkling when you look up at him through your lashes. His heart hammers in his chest at the sight of you. The corners of his lips turn up when he leans down to rest his forehead against yours.
"Happy birthday, Steve," you whisper, your hand raising to rest on his cheek.
His eyes close as he leans into your touch. "Thank you, my darling girl," he murmurs. "You're the best birthday gift I could ask for."
Eagerly, he closes the gap between you two, and his mouth meets yours in a passionate kiss. Large hands trace along the curves of your body, his kisses becoming more hungry by the second. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip; you debate testing his patience but find yourself too needy and allow him entry.
Your tongues dance together in a slow rhythm as his hand slides up your back and to the clasp of your bikini top. Steve unhooks the top and slides it down your shoulders. He tosses the fabric beside you as his lips continue to work against yours. He kisses you once more, slowly, then tugs your bottom lip between his teeth gently. His mouth trails from your jawline to your neck to leave fleeting kisses, stopping a few times to softly nip at the flesh.
Your eyes close, head tilting back in relaxing pleasure while he moves lower down your chest. His breath fans over one of your hardened nipples before he takes it into his mouth. You sigh wantonly and allow your fingers to run through his hair. His warm tongue swirls around the sensitive peak, his hand coming up to squeeze your other breast.
The sensation makes you shiver, your back arches and you press your body closer to his as if begging for more- and he gives it to you. His fingers roll your nipple between them as he sucks on the other. You whine softly, hips bucking up into his chest. Your noises go straight to his throbbing, hardened cock; the vibrations from his low grunt force a whimper out of you.
Much to your dismay, he releases your nipple from his grasp and then from his mouth. His lips leave a trail of searing kisses down your abdomen until he reaches the top of your bikini bottoms. He hooks his fingers under the sides of your bikini bottoms and steps back to pull them down your legs.
He returns back to his spot between your legs, his hand traveling down to your inner thigh only for his digits to dance their way up to your heat. His eyes meet yours and you gasp quietly when he slowly drags his finger through your wetness.
"God, you're wet, honey. That all for me?" Steve teases as he continues the tantalizing motion.
When he dips the tip of his finger into your opening, teasing your entrance slowly, all you can muster up is a nod. He pulls the digit out and allows it to find your throbbing clit. Slowly, he circles the sensitive bundle of nerves as he leans in closer to brush his lips against yours briefly.
"I believe I asked you a question, and I want to hear an answer."
Your breath hitches in your throat when he applies more pressure on you. "I-it's all for you, Stevie- promise."
"That's my girl," he praises, his words sweeter than honey.
His touch withdraws but he lowers himself, almost instantly, to his knees in front of you. Though he's got heightened senses, he's not sure that explains why he can smell your dripping cunt only inches from his face. It's a good smell, an intoxicating one at that, and it's sickeningly sweet.
Steve sighs while pressing tender kisses up your inner thigh, his breath fanning your skin. "Been waiting for this all day," he breathes out.
He places a gentle kiss onto your aching bud before flattening his tongue on your wet cunt. His tongue drags upwards a few times, soft sighs falling from your mouth as he parts your slick folds slowly. You gasp at the sudden sensation and try to grind onto his face, begging for more, but he doesn't give in.
Strong hands make their way to hold your thighs in place so you can't move as easily. He ends the teasing by sucking harshly on your clit, releasing it with a 'pop.' His mouth sucks your clit back into his mouth softer than before while his tongue flicks out at the same time. Your hands tangle themselves into his hair as his mouth works on you. Your breath comes out in fast, quiet pants and you buck your hips onto his face again.
This time he allows you to do so- his large and slightly calloused hands tighten on your thighs to pull you closer to his face. He lets one hand slide up your body to cup your breast and pinch your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. Then his tongue glides from your entrance to just below your clit and back again, stopping every few laps to draw small circles on your throbbing bud. Ever so attentive, he notices how your hand tugs on his hair a little harder when he teases your opening.
You frown, whining when he stops his motions and removes his mouth. Your whine is quickly replaced with a mewl when he spreads your warmth open to allow his tongue to slither into you. He's fucking his tongue in and out of you; he swirls it inside of you to lap up your arousal, not wanting to waste a drop of your slightly sweet slick as if he's absolutely starved.
Your grip on the counter tightens at every thrust of his tongue. You shiver, your body aching and yearning for release. Steve's cock throbs, aching to be inside of you with every moan, whine, or whimper that comes from your lips. No matter how badly he wants to palm himself through his shorts, he knows it'll provide no relief- his relief always and only comes after yours.
Your lower half scoots towards him again in need of more of him. "Steve," you whimper with a trembling voice.
His only response is a growl of approval that sends delicious vibrations to your core as his tongue works even harder in your cunt. Still tweaking your nipple with his fingers, he uses his other hand to rub circles on your swollen clit again.
As your moans grow louder and more strung together, Steve finds himself growing needier. His movements grow quicker, less in sync, and he brings you to the edge only to balance you there. With fingers tangled in his hair and nails scratching almost animalistically at his back, you whine as he sucks on your opening with his tongue still inside of you.
All it takes is a few precise licks upwards against your g-spot for you to let go. Your surroundings shatter into a kaleidoscope of pleasure as you cry out his name repeatedly like it's a prayer. Steve doesn't let up, though, and he continues his movements to make the most of your bliss. Your hand tugs hard in his hair, your body shuddering uncontrollably as he coaxes you through your orgasm.
Steve only stops when your whines of pleasure turn into those of discomfort. He pulls back from between your thighs to stand up and his lips and stubbled chin glisten with your juices. His chest heaves as the evident bulge in his swim shorts twitches. Of course, you're no expert, but the way his pants are straining against his cock even looks painful.
Your gaze locks with his and your breaths begin to slow back to normal. "Stevie," you mumble with a weak smile.
He smiles back at your drowsiness as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "You did so good for me, honey," he says gently before stepping back in between your legs. He leans in close to your face, eyes scanning over you for a moment. "God, how did I get someone as breathtaking as you?"
Steve's eyes fill with adoration upon hearing your giggle as he closes the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a deep, loving kiss. The taste of your own arousal on his lips and tongue fuels the fire growing in your stomach again. His hands find your hips and pull you closer. A moan passes from your mouth and into his as his mouth moves in sync with yours.
"Fuck," he grunts, his voice low and husky as he murmurs against your lips, "I need to be inside of you- please tell me you want more."
"I do," you reply, your voice not coming out as more than a fervent whisper.
He steps back a little then reaches down and unties his shorts. The fabric falls to his ankles and exposes all of him to you. His perfectly sculpted body tenses for a second when his cock springs up and hits his abdomen.
"Wanna slide off that counter for me, poppet?"
The request confuses you, but you comply nonetheless. Your legs are still a little jelly-like from your previous orgasm as you slide off of the counter. You look up at him through your lashes and almost melt under his intense gaze.
"Sit," he instructs, nodding towards the bar stool beside you.
Again, you do as you're told. You take a seat on the edge of the stool with your legs spread just far enough to give Steve the perfect view of your bare, dripping cunt. His eyes focus on nothing but the view you've given him, his hard cock twitching at the sight. Piercing blue eyes snap up to meet yours again within seconds.
He steps closer to you until his chest is mere inches from yours. "Such a pretty little thing. You know exactly what you're doing, don't you?"
A smirk spreads on your lips. "No," you lie.
His eyebrow cocks up at you, his stare becoming more intense. He does not buy the feigned innocence, but that's what makes the fun, right? Fingers reach out to dance across your inner thigh as his lips curl into a smirk.
"You've always been a horrible liar, angel," he purrs.
Slowly, and teasingly, he slides the reddened tip of his cock through your wet warmth. Every stroke between your folds sends your mind into overdrive. You reach up to grab his upper arm, urging him to look at you.
"Need you, Stevie. Don't make me wait any longer please," you beg, locking eyes with him.
His lips curl into a knowing grin. "Oh, my pretty girl. I'll give you what you want now, hm?" he coos before beginning to push himself inside you.
A low rumble sounds from his chest when your tightness pulls him in more than he'd wanted. He pauses momentarily then starts to sink deeper into you again; this time he moves much slower to savor the feeling. The antagonizing slowness at which he slides into you makes your breath catch in your throat; it only takes a few seconds for him to fill you completely though, his thick cock stretching you out.
He pauses, waiting for you to adjust, and peppers kisses on your face. You smile and scrunch your nose up at the sudden influx of kisses. His lips capture yours in a slow, gentle kiss. He stops to rest his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses touching.
"Can I move, sweet girl?"
You nod, head tipping back in pleasure as he starts to pull out. The tip of his cock almost slides out but he eases back into you before it does. Your fingers trace the defined lines on his abdomen and he shutters at the sensation. He repeats the process a few times, each time pushing just a bit deeper into you.
"Need more, Stevie," you whine.
"A little desperate t'night, huh?" he taunts with a chuckle, "Guess we should hurry up since it's getting late; anybody could walk in now."
"I don't care," you grunt, voice hitching when he slides back inside of you with ease.
"'Course you don't," he grins knowingly, "Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
You give him a playful glare as he continues to tease you, "Steve, just stop teasing me already," you pant, your nails digging into his back.
He leans down and in closer to your face, his breath tickling the tip of your nose, "Okay, darling," he says as he places a kiss on your nose.
With that, he withdraws almost fully before driving back into you with an urgency that forces you to cry out in pleasure. You gasp and your hands clutch at his shoulders for support. His hips collide with yours harshly, and the bar stool creaks in protest against the intensity of his thrusts. The world narrows down to just the feeling of Steve inside you, filling you completely in the way only he can. Your grip on his shoulders tightens, your fingernails leaving crescent-shaped imprints on his skin.
"You're so fuckin tight and so- God, so perfect, angel," he grunts out, his hips rocking into you at an unreasonably fast pace. "I swear you were made just for me."
Your heart swells at his appraisal, yet you find yourself unable to conjure up any real words. Chills run through you as his hands roam your body, worshiping every curve and contour. Fingers brush along the skin of your thighs and ignite sparks of pleasure as you arch your back. Your moans mix with groans of his own to create a symphony of ecstasy that echoes throughout the moonlit kitchen.
Steve's pace doesn't falter, not even for a second, his relentless thrusts filling the room with the sound of skin slapping skin. His gaze lingers on you with an intensity that borders on primal, the love and desire in his eyes fueling the fire between your legs.
"Tell me who you belong to, baby," he growls demandingly, his thumb now tracing circles on your overly sensitive clit.
You're lost in a haze of pleasure, soft gasps escaping your parted lips. Your fingers scratch at Steve's back in response to his animalistic thrusts. The dual sensations of the tip of his cock brushing your g-spot and his thumb teasing your bud threaten to send you over the edge. If it weren't for the light slap he gives your clit, a reminder that he won't take 'no answer' for an answer, you would've forgotten he said anything.
"Y-you, Steve," you manage to stammer with a shaky voice, "I belong to you, 'm all yours."
Steve almost loses it then and there. His brows furrow, his head tips back a little, and a deep groan sounds from his chest. His free hand now holds onto your hip as he drives himself deeper inside you.
"Fuck, I love hearing you say it," Steve growls, his breath coming in ragged huffs, "You're all mine, every single inch of you."
He leans down to press his lips to yours in a feverish kiss, his tongue tangling with yours. Your whines and moans are muffled by his mouth as your body quivers at his powerful rhythm. Your breathless affirmations only aid in fueling Steve's unwavering passion, his thumb rubbing faster circles. The stool creaks under you at the intensity of his movements, and the pleasure builds like a wave that steadily crashes over you.
Steve's lips trail from your lips to your chin and then along your jawline. He makes his way down your neck, leaving rough kisses and the occasional nibble on your delicate skin.
"C'mon, say my name, angel. Let everyone know who the only one who can make you feel this good is," he urges as he continues to kiss your neck.
You don't hesitate when his pace somehow quickens, your voice dripping with need, "Steve! Oh, my God- make me feel s-so good."
His head pulls away from your neck, his icy blue eyes finding yours immediately, "That's right, nobody else can make you feel like this, can they, honey?"
Your voice quivers as you respond, "No one, Steve, only you."
A triumphant, cocky grin spreads across Steve's lips, "Always such a good girl for me," he praises.
Without another word, he adjusts his angle so his cock plunges deeper to hit that sweet spot head-on. Sparks of pleasure radiate through your body causing your hips to buck into his involuntarily. You can't help yourself, your body now writhing beneath his as you surrender to him.
His eyes never leave yours which does nothing but add to the intensity. You're teetering on the edge of release and you can see in the way he looks at you that he's right there with you.
"Steve... I'm- Oh, God," you gasp.
"I know," he groans, resting his forehead on yours, "You can let go with me. Come apart on my cock, angel."
And as if on cue, you do just that. You cry out his name again, the world around you blurring into static. Wave after wave of ecstasy, your body quivers uncontrollably as you reach your climax. Steve continues to thrust into you roughly with his own release not far behind; the feeling of his cock throbbing in you only intensifies your orgasm. Careful not to overwhelm you, his thumb pulls away from your clit.
"That's it, honey. Look so fuckin' pretty when you're clenching around me like that," he says, his voice husky and strained.
He leans in to kiss you deeply again and swallows your cries as his movements become erratic and somewhat sloppy. Your tight, needy cunt pulsating around him and pulling him in farther. With a carnal groan, he finds his release, his warm seed painting your insides. Soft pants fan against your lips while he whispers sweet praises to you, his thrusts coming almost to a standstill as he rides out his high. Your bodies are pressed tightly together by his arm looping around your waist, and your foreheads rest on each other's as you both catch your breath.
Steve gently pulls out of you, moving slowly so he doesn't hurt you. You wince a little at the sting of him leaving your warmth, already missing the sensation of his cock stretching you. His eyes meet yours to offer a silent apology for your soreness. He scoots over to the side, pulling a few paper towels off the roll and running them under the tap. Then he returns to his spot to lean down and clean you up, wiping up any trace of your shared passionate moment.
"Are you okay, sweetheart?" Steve questions, concern etched on his features when you shiver.
Your fingers reach out to brush his cheek, "I'm okay, just sensitive is all," you reassure him with a smile, "Thank you for taking such good care of me."
His lips curl into a soft smile as he continues his movements, "I'll always take good care of you, my sweet girl."
After he's finished, he cleans himself off and tosses the paper towels into the trash bin. Then he wipes down the counter with a cleaning wipe and tosses that too. He pulls his shorts back on before locating your bikini bottoms and top to help you put them on. His arms wrap around your waist to pull you into a hug. You snuggle into Steve's warm chest, your head resting on him as you listen to the familiar beating of his heart again. The tranquil crashing of the water outside the beach house provides a comforting background noise that could put you to sleep.
Steve presses a tender kiss to the top of your head, "I love you, sweetheart," he murmurs, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back.
"I love you too, Stevie," you reply adoringly.
A brief moment of silence passes before he pulls away, his fingers tilting your chin so that you look up at him. "'M gonna marry you someday," he beams.
"I'll hold you to it," you joke, pressing your nose to his, "Do a few babies and a white picket fence by the beach come with it?"
Steve chuckles as he gives a peck to your lips, "That sounds perfect. But I'd give you whatever you want, darlin'- hell, I'd build the house myself if you asked me to," he says before pulling his face away from yours.
A warm smile stretches your lips, knowing he meant every word, "Well, I do like a man who's good with his hands and we've got time to plan it all out, don't we?"
Your joke earns a snicker from Steve, "All the time in the world, honey," he agrees with a contented sigh, his strong arms wrapping around you again.
The door of the beach house creaks open, but you're much too comfortable to care. Still, you turn your head to the side anyway. Bucky stands only a few feet away with his wet hair clinging to his forehead and a towel wrapped around his waist. He raises an eyebrow at the sight, taking in your messy hair and sleepy eyes along with Steve's bashful grin.
"Missed all the fun while I was out there, huh?" Bucky smirks, making his to the fridge behind Steve.
Steve responds with a smirk of his own, "Oh, you have no idea what you missed, Buck."
Bucky retrieves a bottle of water from the fridge, leaning against the kitchen island, "I can see that. You do look more radiant than usual, doll. What'd you do to her, Steve?" he says with a grin.
Steve leaves an arm slung lazily over your shoulders when he turns sideways to face the brunet fully, "Nothing special, y'know. Just did what I said I was going to: made a birthday wish with her and had a little...something..to eat," he replies, shrugging nonchalantly.
Bucky chokes a little on his water when he snorts at the implication, "Something to eat, huh?" he teases, "Well, don't let me be a bother, I'll just be here hydrating. I would offer you a bottle, but I'd say you already had enough 'hydration' for the day."
You and Steve exchange amused glances as you wrap your arms around his waist. Your head rests on his firm but comfortable chest while Bucky takes another sip of water, still grinning at the two of you.
These were the simple moments you loved, where it's just the three of you. You rather enjoyed seeing both of them together because it was refreshing to see how Steve relaxed when he was with only you and Bucky.
"You're right, I do think we've quenched our thirst quite well," you playfully reply, making Bucky nearly choke on his water again.
Bucky finally laughs, shaking his head at you as he tosses his empty bottle, "You're something else, you know that, doll?"
You chuckle, nestling closer to Steve, the post-orgasm bliss enveloping you, "I think it's safe to say I'm in good company then," you quip.
Bucky moves closer to the two of you, "Guess I can't argue with that, I'm not a great influence," he says, reaching out to ruffle your hair which earns a mock glare from Steve.
"Hey- get your own y/n, this one's all mine," Steve warns jokingly, his arm finding its place around your midsection again.
"Thought we shared everything, huh?" Bucky japes, grinning from ear to ear as he playfully jabs Steve's arm.
"Yeah, Stevie," you murmur, pinching his side, "Share."
"Sorry to say but I'm not sharing this one, Buck," Steve teases with a hint of possessiveness in his voice as he looks down at you, "And don't tell me you've fallen victim to his fake charm too, poppet."
"You know you'll always be my number one, Stevie. And you, Bucky, will always be my number one charismatic troublemaker," you beam, soaking in the warmth of what would become a sweet memory.
Bucky raises an eyebrow, "Well, aren't you just the sweetest tonight," he says, his tone laced with false indignation, "I suppose I can settle for being the charming troublemaker in this equation."
"I did not say charm-"
"It's what I heard," Bucky says with a smirk, cutting your sentence short.
You let out an exasperated sigh while shaking your head. Steve joins in, also shaking his head as he chuckles at the playful banter between you and his best friend. If it were all those years ago, Steve might've actually worried about you leaving him for Bucky. But it's not back then, and you're just so you, so he rarely worried about anything with you. And he liked it that way.
"I'm just playin' with you two. You know you're both like family to me, and you are a lucky guy, Steve," Bucky says, a heartfelt smile on his face.
"That I am," Steve agrees as his hand reaches up to caress your cheek, "I wouldn't trade this, or her, for anything."
Bucky lets out a contented sigh, "Think I'm gonna hit the shower and turn in for the night, it's getting a little late. Happy birthday again, punk."
"Thanks, Buck," Steve says warmly, "Have a good night."
You smile up at Bucky, "G'night, Buck."
Bucky nods at Steve, ruffling your hair once more, "Goodnight, doll. Don't let him keep you up too late," he says before heading towards the stairs.
When you hear the distant sound of the shower turning on, you turn your attention back to Steve. He looks down at you with a loving gaze as he rubs your side. Before you can speak, he removes his arm from your waist to scoop you up and set you on the counter again.
He's always preferred when you're at eye level with him so he can see your face up close; he can also keep you within reasonable kiss range- which was definitely the motive this time. His fingers trace your jawline as he leans in to kiss you tenderly. The taste of your juices still lingers on his lips, transferring to yours.
Steve pulls away slightly, "I truly am a lucky man, you know that, honey?" he states, recalling Bucky's statement from earlier in the night.
"And I'm the luckiest lady on the planet, Steve," you say, your voice filled with admiration.
"I love you, my sweet girl."
"I love you too, Stevie."
Your fingers softly trace the contours of his face, and he reciprocates the affection, his touch filled with fondness. His hand slides down to rest on your hip and he presses his lips to yours in yet another sweet, loving kiss.
"How about we get some rest?" he suggests after pulling away, "We've got a whole day ahead of us and I've got houses to start sketching, apparently."
You nod in agreement as you giggle and slide off the counter. Your hands lace with his, the two of you making your way to the bedroom. He takes his spot on the left side of the bed and waits for you to lay up next to him before pulling the blankets over you. His body provides a familiar warmth as he curls up behind you to hold you. Surrounded by the soothing sounds of the ocean and his comforting embrace, you begin to drift off.
Right as you're about to fall asleep, your phone, which was left on the nightstand beside you before you went to the beach for the day, dings three times. You reach over groggily and pull it into the bed with you. After unlocking it, you see on your lock screen that both messages are from Tony; one is an image and the other two are just regular texts.
The image is the one he took earlier of you, Steve, and Bucky. You save the picture, smiling warmly at it. Your smile fades to a grin when you read the texts.
Tone: "Would say hope you enjoyed yourself, but everyone out here already knows you did. P.s. clean everything anybody's ass touched, especially if it was his."
Tone: "Just kidding with ya, kid (not about the cleaning part-seriously). Tell the old man I said Happy Birthday again, love ya."
You giggle and write back a message saying, "we're not complete animals, geez. love you too, tone," before tucking your phone under your pillow and falling asleep. This day would be remembered fondly, and you were sure of it.
per usual, if i forgot your tag, or you want to be added to the tag list for this series and/or anything else i write, *let me know here*, leave a comment, or message me :)
summary: your relationship with steve is nothing more than a string of lies and promises in a hearty affair, but hope lingers still.
warnings: swearing, angst, cheating, smut (degradation + appraisal, finger sucking, brief spanking, unprotected p in v, brief mention of hair pulling, use of the names ‘dove,’ ‘bunny,’ and ‘slut.')
a/n: highly recommend listening to moon song and/or midnight love while reading this :,)
‘you pushed me in
and now my feet can’t touch
the bottom of you’
Love is to be experienced as a delicate, never-ending symphony between two souls. Love is supposed to feel like soft sand under your feet, a perfect breeze flowing through your hair, and warm water wrapping around you in a comforting embrace.
But loving Steven Grant Rogers?
It’s sharp teeth sinking into your flesh that gnaw the meat off your bones. It’s total darkness and an unrelenting dagger piercing your very core. The blade twists, somehow sinking deeper with every thrust of his hips and soft groan that falls from his lips. The warm water that’s supposed to comfort you is freezing cold as it pulls you under, water filling your lungs.
“My pretty girl.”
He says it like it’s a title meant for you, only for you.
“Don’t think I could ever get enough of you,” he sighs. His hips drive faster into “Fuck- got such a tight little cunt, dove.”
You croon, your sounds being drowned out by you shoving your face into your soft comforter. You’d wash the sheets in the morning. It’s always less painful after he goes home when there’s no trace of him left behind.
Steve delivers a hard smack to your ass before gripping the aching cheek roughly in his hand. His free hand comes to rest on your hip so he can force your hips back into his to match his thrusts. He slaps your cheek again with the same roughness, desperate to pull more whimpers and moans from you.
His pace quickens, the tip of his cock deliciously hitting your g-spot as he slides in and out of you. “Come on, sing for me, dove,” he demands.
And you obey; loud moans and gasps falling freely from you now. A deep groan emits from the man behind you as your sounds greet his ears. Large hands grip your hips tightly, sure to leave bruises that would have you avoiding mirrors until they disappear.
“Look at that,” he groans as he pulls out of you slowly.
You wince at the obscene squelching noises coming from your sopping heat. He doesn’t notice your discomfort because you don’t allow him to. If he knew about that ache you feel every second of the day that he’s not stretching you out then he’d probably end things for good. Having bits and pieces of him is better than having none of him, you’d decided.
Steve watches closely as he enters you again, speaking through gritted teeth, “So. Fucking. Perfect,” he grunts in between thrusts. “Fuck, I can feel your needy cunt gripping me, bunny.”
“Stevie,” you mewl, grabbing fistfuls of the sheets under you, “Please, please.”
You’re not even sure what you’re begging for anymore. More of him? For him to go deeper into you, to fuck into you so roughly that you forget he’s not yours?
His thrusts slow as his hand tangles in your hair to gently pull you up and against his chest. Your head tilts back against his shoulder, your teary eyes locking with his lustful blues. He rocks his hips at a moderate pace like he’s savoring what he can of you. There’s not much to savor though, most of you has withered away and he takes what’s left of you home with him every night. He’ll return tomorrow night anyway, in your bed, to claim what’s left of your hollowed bones.
He coos softly as his eyes scan over your blissed-out expression, “There’s my girl. Always look so pretty getting stretched out by my cock, don’t you?”
Your jaw goes slack when one of his large hands travels down and between your legs to rub circles on your sensitive clit. The fingers in your hair come to rest under your chin, his thumb being placed in your open mouth. He chuckles when you immediately start sucking on it, relishing in the fact that only he could do this to you. Only he gets the pleasure of turning you this cock-hungry and seeing you this desperate. He’d already ruined every other man’s chances with you because, well, they’re no Steve Rogers- nobody is.
If only he’d thought the same about you as you do about him.
His head tilts to the side, his thumb leaving your mouth with a ‘pop’ as his hand makes its way onto the back of your head. He pushes your head so that your lips smash against his. His soft lips move with yours feverishly in a series of sloppy kisses. He kisses you with the same amount of need he always does, but you kiss him with a desire that runs much deeper than sexual. You need him in every possible way he’ll offer you.
His tongue swipes out in between kisses, urging you to open your mouth. For the first time, you allow him entrance without teasing. His tongue explores your mouth Your tongues swirl together as he explores your mouth. The kisses he offers you always have your mind reeling in the most blissful way. You figure it’s because it’s the closest you’ll get to being filled by him completely; his tongue down your throat, his fat cock stretching you so deliciously, him being yours for the time being- even if only for a few hours.
‘you couldn’t have
stuck your tongue down the throat
of somebody who loves you more’
“Close, m’close, Stevie,” you breathe out against his lips.
Steve pulls his lips away from yours to tsk at you tauntingly, “Are you? You gonna come all over my dick, bunny?” he asks, the circling motions on your clit coming to a stop so he can softly slap it a few times.
The slaps send a sharp tingle through you and your hips jolt forwards slightly, his cock almost slipping out of you. A growl makes its way from his chest and out of his mouth as he slams back into you fully. You pule when he starts to rub your clit again at the same speed as before.
"Such a pretty baby when you take what I give you- squeezing me so tight, s'like you were made for me."
“Please,” you beg, “Wanna come, please let me come.”
“No, you can wait," he orders.
“Can’t, Stevie. Need to finish.”
“I know you can hold it ‘cause only bad girls come without permission- and you’re not a bad girl, are you, dove?”
He would be the death of you. And you were sure of that simple fact.
“N-no,” you whine, the knot in your stomach tightening.
He chortles as your hips move to meet his, “I know you love being bent over like this, like the dirty little slut you are, but I think I want you on top of me so I can see that pretty face when you milk me,” he says with a grin.
You find yourself unable to conjure up anything other than a low hum as he sinfully ruts into you. His movements quicken, the pressure applied onto your swollen bud increasing. Moans and soft whimpers come from between your lips, your back arching off his chest. He doesn’t let you fall though, and his hand that once was wrapped by your hair flies down to your chest to steady you.
Thick fingers dig into your breast as Steve holds you tighter against him. You mewl when he pinches your hardened nipples between his digits. Somehow you’re able to hold your building release as he rolls the peak around, tugging only slightly. His thrusts become unrelentingly fast and the tip of his lengthy cock slams into your g-spot with a force that’s bordering painful.
‘It’s like you were made for me.’
To you, you were made for him. All of him fits so perfectly with all of you, from your witty personality paired with his serious exterior down to how your walls were molded for his cock.
You wondered if he thought she was made for him too.
Warm, salty tears run down your cheeks slowly as you take the pain that he’s unaware he’s inflicting. The physical pain was being dulled by the pleasure, and some nights that used helped the mental pain too, but not anymore. He places soft kisses on your cheek to kiss away the train of tears.
“What d’ya think, sugar? That sound good to you? You wanna bounce on my cock so I can see all of you?” he questions again, his accent becoming more prominent. You don’t respond, still unable to, so he speaks again, “C’mon, dove. Color?”
You manage to breathe out a, “Gre-green,” the first half of the word getting caught in your throat.
“Good, now come sit on my cock,” he demands as he pulls his girth completely out of you.
His hands pull away from your body, giving you just enough time to steady yourself. You whine at the loss of contact as you lower yourself to your knees, trying to catch your breath. The mattress sinks when he sits next to you before pulling his legs onto the bed, careful not to kick you, and straightening them.
Patiently, he waits with his back sat against your bed frame for you to take your spot on top of him. Rarely did he rush you because he always loses track of time when he’s with you. Not that time matters anyway since the woman he truly belongs to had been picking up the night shift for the last few weeks.
You shuffle on your knees to his side and throw your leg over his to straddle him. Steve's gaze never shifts from your face except for once to look at the sight of your dripping cunt being prodded by the fat head of his length. He grunts quietly when you slowly lower yourself onto him, the tightness of your clenched walls almost pulling him all the way in.
Hands make their way up your thighs with one stopping on your hip and the other on your waist. As you continue to sink down, his thumb brushes underneath your breast as it strokes your side gently. You’ve always been able to take him fully, whether with ease, or with a lot of foreplay that he never really minded because he loves to tease you.
“There we go, little bunny. Such a pretty girl, aren’t you?” he coos, the grip on your hip tightening as he bottoms out inside of you.
The bright blue eyes you’d come to love and hate were significantly darkened now. But that wasn’t unusual during times like these, for his usual sweet gaze to blacken and gloss over with lust and desire.
Almost as soon as you’d sunken fully down, his hand moves you around, swiveling your hips in circles. His length stirs inside of you, hitting that familiar soft spot that makes you gasp. A rough hand kneads your breast as he starts to bounce you up and down on his length. The movement is painfully slow at first but builds up speed after a minute.
You moan loudly as you ride him, not bothering to muffle your noises. As much as you don’t wish pain on her, the selfish part of you wants her to walk in on the unholy scene; him plowing into you, his hungry stare glued to your bouncing tits, the lewd noises of skin against skin filling the room. Maybe if she saw you two like this then you could have him. He was amazing, truly, and you know that you’d want him all to yourself if you were her too.
You take control from him for a moment, pushing down on his chest as you move. He allows you to do so, his hips only moving in the same slow swiveling motions from earlier. His dick swirls inside of you as you ride him and it provides an extra sensation that has you whirling.
That knot in your stomach tangles itself up again as you ride him quicker. You lose control of your movements after a few seconds, your hips stuttering as you try to keep a steady pace. Per usual, as he does with everything you do, Steve takes notice of it quickly.
“You close again?” he rasps, although he’s fully aware of the answer.
He takes over again, bouncing you so that his thrusts meet yours in the middle. He’s also knowing of the fact that you probably won’t find it in you to respond, so he speaks once more.
“You can let go for me now. Been such a good girl tonight, you deserve to come,” he praises you, his voice husky due to his own climax approaching.
“Stevie,” you whimper lowly, wanting to come with him.
“I know, dove, s’alright; come for me, promise I’m right behind you.”
The verbal confirmation is all you need to let yourself release. Your body spasms, your vision blurring into a white static as your eyes shut tightly. An embarrassingly crude string of moans make their way out of your mouth and deep grunts emit from his chest as you clench around him.
Both of his hands come to sit on the back of your head and pull you down to his face. His lips press to yours so hard that both of your mouths open, your teeth clashing. The kiss doesn’t last longer than a few seconds before he’s groaning into your mouth. His lips disconnect from yours and he buries his head into the crook of your neck.
The sight of your face twisted in pleasure stuck in his mind, his thick cock still sliding in and out of you, is all it takes for him to let go too. Strings of hot, white cum paint your insides. The warmth of his seed sends a tingle down to your core that only prolongs your orgasm. His thrusts slow almost to a stop but his hips occasionally rut into you roughly as the two of you ride out your high.
The feeling is both sour and sweet because you know he’s going to leave. He’s going to clean you up, either in a quick shower together or with a warm rag, get you some water, and then hold you until you fall asleep. You’re never sure if he leaves when you’re sound asleep or when the sun starts to rise and his fiancé gets off work. All you know is that he leaves, and he’s never there when you wake up.
And that’s what hurts more than almost everything- that you’ll always be right here waiting for the man who’ll never be waiting for you.
'so i will wait
for the next time you want me
like a dog with a bird at your door’
“Love you, I fuckin’ love you,” Steve moans quietly against your neck, brushing your hair back softly.
Ouch.
Maybe if it hadn't been the first time he'd said the words, it wouldn't have hurt as much. Or maybe it was always going to hurt to hear them because they're always going to be whispered as a secret.
“Steve…,” you trail.
“I know,” he whispers.
He places a few chaste kisses on your neck before moving his head back up so that his forehead rests on yours. Your fingers dig into his hard biceps as you swallow the lump in your throat. Your chests are pressed together, your heartbeat in sync with his. Soft pants fill the silence that's thick in the room.
"Color?" he asks.
"Green."
Your eyes finally open to meet his gaze. His eyes are softened now, perfectly showcasing the soothing waves of baby blue in them. Tinges of regret and disappointment can be seen beneath all the longing and drowsiness in his eyes.
"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?"
You offer only a nod in agreement before pulling off of him, his semi-hard cock sliding out of you. He slides off the bed, leaning down to pick up his clothes. You come to stand beside him as he pulls his boxers up, looking up at him affectionately. He then slides his shirt onto your form with ease before helping you pull your arms through the sleeves.
The shirt smells just like him, an intoxicating musk paired with amber and sandalwood. You exchange a knowing, grateful glance with him and he returns the look with a smile. He laces his fingers with yours and leads you to the bathroom in your bedroom.
"D'ya want to take a bath with me tonight, dove? You might be sore tomorrow," he says.
You're almost starstruck by his question. A shower together wasn't uncommon if he had the time to spare, neither was him running you a bath if he was running short on time, but he'd never asked about a bath together before. You'd never thought to ask about it before either, deciding the act was too romantically intimate.
"You'll take one with me..?"
"'Course I will, bunny," he replies, the corners of his mouth turning up ever so slightly, "Is that a yes, then?"
He waits for you to hum a soft 'mhm,' before turning the water on. You sit on the closed toilet as he glances down at you. Without taking his eyes off of you, he leans down to pick up your favorite vanilla bubble bath soap. Only then does he look away from you to pour a decent amount of soap under the running water in your large tub.
Most nights, he wouldn't dare use your soap, let alone bathe in it. It was almost as if he was starting to care less and less about covering his tracks. But you knew that wasn't true and he'd probably just wash your scent off as soon he got home.
Steve sat himself on the edge of the tub next to you, one hand on your thigh and the other swirling the soap to create more bubbles. The first time he'd done this for you, you told him you liked a lot of bubbles, and he remembered that. He always remembered the things you like.
You continued to watch him while the water rose in the bathtub. When it was considerably full with the warm water and thick vanilla-scented froth, he stood and offered his hand to you. A smile graces his lips when you place your hand in his. Once you're standing, he pulls his shirt over your head and helps you lower yourself into the water. The bubbles embrace you as you scoot up to give him enough room behind you.
He joins you only a few moments later, his legs stretching out on either side of you as he pulls you into his lap. His strong arms wrap around your midsection tightly and you melt into his touch. Your eyes close in contentment, your head tilts back to rest lazily on his shoulder.
A chuckle rumbles through his chest as he places a kiss on your temple. Your face nuzzles into his neck to place a soft kiss at the base of his throat.
"You comfortable, dove?"
"More than," you whisper, lost in the feeling of his embrace.
"We can stay like this for as long as you want," Steve replies as he glances down at you, "I promise."
Does he do this for her too? Touch her with such a tenderness that you can’t help but swoon at? Whisper soft, sweet nothings into her ear that would make anyone weak?
Only a few beats of silence pass before he speaks again, "M'gonna give you the world one day," he murmurs, "You're my sunshine, you know that, right?"
'and if i could give you the moon
i would give you the moon'
The unusual affectionate sentiments throw you off. It wasn't odd for him to be sweet to you, but it was different for him to be expressing it so verbally. He usually preferred to show his affection towards you in more physical ways- it used to be easier that way. While the words are nice to hear, silky as they roll off his tongue, they sting a little. As far as his loving nature goes, you would never be the first to hear the loving words he spews.
Your heart clenches, but you respond nonetheless, "And you, mine," you whisper back.
Minutes pass by as Steve holds you close in the water, the fragrant bubbles surrounding you both. It's a moment of tender vulnerability that you don't get to share with him often. His whispered promises pierce you, leaving you both longing for more, and you wishing for a future where these moments with him are reserved for you. He's like broken glass slipping through the cracks between your fingers, and you're like water in his hands.
Steve began to gently wash your body, his touch gentle and filled with care as he ran the soapy loofah over your skin. He always knew how to soothe your aches from the physical exertion, but the emotional weight of being the other woman was untreatable. His hands moved in soothing circles, kisses raining down on your shoulders and neck. Occasionally he mumbles little praises like 'my pretty dove,' and 'such a cute little bunny,' in your ear.
"Gonna miss you tonight," you admit as he rinses the loofah in the water.
He pauses briefly before rinsing the bubbles off of you, "I know- I miss you every night, dove."
'Then stay,' you want to say- but you don't.
"But you know I'll always come back to you, right?" he adds, "And even though I leave, my heart always stays here with you."
You want to say more but instead hum another low 'mhm', reaching forward to pull the plug from the drain. The water, tinted slightly white from the bubbles and soap, spirals down the drain. Steve helps you stand and steps out of the tub, grabbing a towel for you and one to wrap around his waist. He cocoons you in a fluffy, plush towel, his touch lingering as he dries you off. Then he dries himself off just enough to throw his boxers back on before taking you back into your bedroom.
"What're you wearing t'night, bunny?" he inquires, leading you to sit on your bed.
He shuffles over to your dresser, awaiting your answer. When he doesn't receive a response, he cocks his brow up at you expectantly, and you shrug back at him.
"Black lace," you finally respond, "And your shirt..?"
When he doesn't answer immediately, nerves pool in your stomach as a manifestation of your worry that you've crossed a boundary. Steve glances at you and a storm of emotions swirl behind his deep blue eyes for a moment. The room feels heavy, the air being replaced with thick tension and unspoken thoughts.
"Sweetheart, I don't know if that's a good idea tonight," he sighs, his head lowering to avoid your gaze.
How silly of you to think you could keep a piece of him here. His bits and pieces you thought you got to keep were reserved for her too, now that you think of it. You merely got her scraps. But he's her fiancé, so what else could you have expected?
"It's alright, I'm sorry," you say, mumbling the added, "Don't know why I asked anyways."
A frown makes its way onto his face, "Bunny, please don't do that,” he coos as he grabs your lace panties from the drawer.
"Don't apologize to me." Steve's eyes soften as he walks over to you, his hand delicately lifting your chin to make you meet his gaze. "You can have my shirt."
"Steve, really, it's-"
"You can have it. I know it's hard not having any piece of me here, I feel the same way when I'm without you, my sunshine," he admits with a soft smile.
"Thank you," you whisper, thanking him for both the offer and the vulnerability he gives you.
His hands cup your cheeks, one thumb brushing your cheek. He presses his lips to yours without another word. The kiss is slow and chock-full of passion, a silent promise of the love he feels for you. You practically sink into the feeling of his lips on yours, cursing whatever force brought you into his life after he met her.
When he breaks the kiss with a soft sigh, forehead resting on yours, you open your eyes. You stare longingly into the familiar seas of blue, getting lost in them. You start to feel like you're drowning again, but, this time, the sinking is caused by the way he looks at you.
'you are sick, and you're married
and you might be dyin'
but you're holdin' me like water in your hands'
Your body shivers as your air conditioning turns on. He walks to the bathroom to grab the shirt then slides it over your shaking form.
“Better?” he asks softly.
“So much better,” you reply with a yawn, savoring the scent of him on his shirt.
Steve tilts his head in adoration, “I’ll get dressed and we’ll go to bed, okay bunny?”
You nod in agreement then push the disheveled comforter to the far side of the bed. Steve slides back into his pants that were long forgotten earlier in the night before turning to face you. He watches affectionately as you scoot backward on the bed to lie down, a smile threatening to force its way onto his face.
Once you're settled in comfortably, he takes his spot next to you and pulls you into his side. His heart starts to beat a little faster than usual when you lay your head on his chest. A strong arm wraps around your waist to hold you as close as possible, his other hand stroking your hair back in a soothing manner.
Your bedroom is enveloped in an aching silence as Steve holds you as close as possible. Time always seems to stand still whenever he holds you. The only reminder of the outside world's existence is the impending, and unavoidable, separation soon to come that weighs heavily on you. The weight is heavy on him too, but he'd never tell you just how heavy it is for him.
His chest rises and falls with each steady, slow breath he takes. You can feel and faintly hear his heart beating just beneath your ear, a bittersweet reminder that he's real and actually there- that this isn't just a dream.
The room is bathed in a soft glow from the moonlight filtering through your curtains, creating a serene ambiance. It's a serenity that doesn't feel deserved, a stark contrast to the guilt and longing that nip at your flesh.
Steve breaks the silence, "I do love you, you know," he admits in a whisper.
"I know," you reply with an equally soft tone, "and I love you."
"You're my everything," he promises.
"I wish I could be."
"You are," he says reassuringly, "Bunny, you mean everything to me. Please don't ever doubt what I feel for you."
You squeeze your eyes shut tight in an attempt to hold back the tears that long to spill over. You've heard these words before, but tonight they feel more real. Maybe they feel more real because they're only spoken in this intimate space that you and Steve created.
"But you go back to her every night," you mumble, half hoping he didn't hear and half hoping he did.
His movements still, his body tensing for a moment. He heard.
He sighs deeply, "I have to, dove, you know that. But I promise that one day, soon, we won't have to hide. You deserve more than this and I'm going to give you more. Just hang in there for me a little longer."
You want to believe him. You want so badly to believe the promises of a future he's selling you, but you can't. If you give in to all of the promises and all of the desires, what do you have left to keep you grounded? Why gamble in putting your trust in something that's nothing more than an idea?
"I won't ask you to leave her, but who do you want, Steve?"
He pauses as if thinking about his answer, "You. It's always you."
"Then why does it hurt so much?" you whisper with a trembling voice.
His hold on you tightens, "Because you're a good person. Loving you is the most beautiful but agonizing thing I've ever felt, and I can't keep hurting you. I'm going to fix this, okay?"
When you don't say anything, he speaks again, "I wouldn't promise you something I can't keep. Try to get some sleep for me, bunny. I'll be back tomorrow, just like always."
There's a quiet, unspoken understanding between the two of you. For now, you close your eyes and find comfort in his presence and warmth. The soothing feeling of his hand in your hair and arm around your waist puts you to sleep rather quickly. You always fell asleep faster when he was here, and you probably always will.
Steve stares down at your peaceful, sleeping form for about an hour after you fall asleep. His eyes trail over the face he's come to never stop thinking about. From the very moment he wakes until the time he sleeps, he's thinking about you. You never slipped his mind and it didn't seem to matter whether he was with you, her, or by himself.
Of course, he'd never pegged himself as the selfish type, but he was, and he knew it now. He knew it was selfish of him to keep you and her, but he'd be selfish even if he ended things with you earlier since he would always come back to you. Now he was in too deep and it was simply a matter of who he had to hurt; nobody could come out unscathed at this point.
"God, I love you," he murmurs, his statement falling on deaf ears.
He gently lifts your head off of him and onto your pillow before slowly getting out of your bed. After he stands, he tucks you in under your comforter. The room is quiet aside from your soft breathing as he pulls his flannel on, buttoning it up to cover his naked chest. He pulls a little box from his pants pocket and adorns you with the gift he bought for you. Steve takes a brief second to memorize your expression before he turns to leave. When he slips out of the room, he can't help but feel the guilt of the choices and promises he's made.
The door clicks shut behind him, waking you slightly. You notice that his warm figure isn't under you anymore. You'd expected it, but it hurts nonetheless. So, you drift back into an almost restless sleep, hoping to wake up from the cruel dream where the man you love isn't truly yours. A small and irrational part of you prays that when you wake up you'll be in the future; a future where your love can be more than a symphony in the night.
'when you saw the dead little bird,
you started cryin'
but you know the killer doesn't understand'
When you wake, thick sunlight pours through the blinds and curtains. The morning sun that you used to love waking up to is now just a brutal reminder that another night has passed, and you're still waiting. You sit up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and trying to reorient yourself. The emptiness in the room bathes you in loneliness.
As you stretch and get ready to get up, the feeling of something cold sliding around your neck makes you pause. You look down to find a delicate rose gold chain with a small pendant. Your brows furrow in confusion as you pull it up closer to your face to observe it. There, hanging from the chain, is a matching rose gold locket. The locket is heart-shaped and detailed with intricate lace patterns. It opens with a tiny latch to reveal, what you assume is, space for a small picture.
Your heart flutters as you realize it's a gift from Steve. Gently, you open the locket to find a tiny 's.g.r' engraved on the empty side and a small photograph of the two of you on the other. It's a candid shot, and your favorite picture, from a few months ago. It was taken by Bucky when the three of you went to get ice cream in the park after a four week-long mission. The photo captured a moment of genuine happiness on both of your faces, only weeks before Steve made the first move on you.
Tears spill freely from your eyes as you smile down at the locket, closing it in your hands. A knock sounds at the door, pulling you out of your thoughts. You sniffle and wipe the tears from your eyes. Your legs fling lazily over the edge of the bed and you make your way to the door.
"Coming," you call out.
You open the door to find Steve standing there. His hair is messy, his hand still running through the damp strands, and his eyes are slightly red. Your eyes widen a little at his disheveled state.
"Steve? What are you doing here so early, are you okay? I-"
"I told you I would fix it, and I did," he states, "I choose you- I want an honest life with you and I always will."
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