Warnings: Fluff, Talk of Disability, Emotional Issues,
Summary: Steve is proud to call you his wife even when life throws a curve ball and you fall sick. No matter what anyone says you are his saving grace, his beautiful Angel. He will always be happy to remind you how much you mean to him.
A/N: This is for @gotnofucks body positivity challenge. The challenge says “Pick something that may make someone self-conscious or insecure and make them feel better about themselves.” I chose my disability that I deal with every single day. Some know about it. I don’t normally discuss it much but this challenge really spoke to me. So you will see a glimpse into our lives. I read this to my husband and he legit cried. He said, “It’s like you wrote exactly what I feel about you.” He did laugh when I told him I put Steve Rogers in the husband role. LOL!
A/N 2: Italics are a flashback. Also, thank you to @pigwidgeonxo & @music-culture-mythology for beta reading this.
DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18 YEARS OLD.
Reblogs & Comments on Tumblr are welcomed and encouraged. 😊💜
I do NOT give my consent to have my work translated or reposted on any social media platform, apps or third party sites. If you see my work anywhere else besides my personal accounts on Tumblr & AO3 then it has been stolen. I will NEVER give written or verbal permission to repost or translate any of my fanfics as they’re MY intellectual property. 🚫🚫
The warmth from the sun casts its rays across their shared bed as his wife sleeps peacefully curled up next to him. He smiles knowing that she is his little angel and he feels blessed to have her by his side.
Life hasn’t been easy for them since the diagnosis that she received. Steve had promised her the day they got the news he would be by her side every step of the way. Their journey so far has seen many hospital visits, doctor appointments, and a variety of different tests. All of them saying there is nothing they can do for her except treat the symptoms.
So every morning Steve lets her sleep knowing that her body kept her up late from the pain she was in. Exhaustion had taken over only an hour ago as she softly cried against his chest, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back.
Steve gets up quietly like most mornings and gets himself showered and dressed. By the time his sweet angel wakes up, he's by her side. His strong hands are soft and careful as he helps her stand up. The risk of fainting is high as she goes from being in bed so long to now suddenly standing, but as she wavers Steve holds her hips tight until the feeling passes.
Steve places her walker in front of her body, her hands holding tight as she takes her first steps of the day. He follows closely behind her as she makes her way to the bathroom.
Her legs feel like jello as she walks 'pigeon-toed' as the doctor calls it to the bathroom. She can barely get her legs to move but she presses on to get her morning routine over with. Her motto is always a simple one, “get two feet on the ground and it will be a good day.” That’s what she has lived by since her body started to break down.
Once she has relieved herself, washed her hands, and brushed her teeth she heads back to the bedroom.
Steve follows again behind her until she reaches the bed. He knows her heart is beating as if she just ran a race, so he guides her to sit down so he can grab her clothes for the day. Many people have told him he should have married someone healthy, who can work and bring something to the marriage. As he slowly dresses her for the day he recalls a conversation that took place last night.
“I don’t know why you are with her. She can’t give you the life you deserve. She is a fragile doll that could break at any minute. How are you supposed to have children when you are taking care of her?” Sharon tried to plead her case but Steve cut her off.
Steve narrowed his eyes at her, his stance widening as his anger simmered to a boil. “What I deserve is to be happy and she makes me feel that every single day. She is so strong getting up every morning with a smile on her face. She doesn’t complain about what she can’t do or how much she suffers. Instead, she conquers the day like a goddess and I’m literally in awe of her. If you could live one day in her shoes I know for a fact you wouldn’t have an ounce of grace like she does.” Steve had stormed off away from Sharon and as soon as his eyes locked with his wife’s he could see the tears in her eyes. He knew that his friend hurt his wife but the tears were not from what Sharon said. Instead, his wife later confessed she couldn’t believe how he once again stood up for her against someone who was supposed to be his friend.
The fact is Steve wouldn’t change a thing about his marriage or the woman he fell in love with. Watching her every day persevering in the face of uncertainty makes him feel proud to call her his wife. Unlike other women in the past, his angel has been by his side in good and bad times. She has never judged his past, has always given him the emotional support he has always craved. Most importantly, she has loved him as no other has ever had in his past. He would go to hell and back for her if he needed to. His angel was his everything.
Gently Steve carried her from the bedroom to the couch in the living room. He places a blanket over her lap and hands his angel a book she’s been reading over the last several days. Placing a soft kiss on her forehead he makes his way into the kitchen and prepares breakfast. Once her meal is made he carries it out to the couch and puts it on the tv tray next to her.
As she eats her meal in peace Steve brings out the first of many medicines that she has to take that day, placing them on her table. Sipping his coffee he can’t help but smile as her eyes close and she hums in content from eating everything he cooked. She took her pills with the rest of her juice and looked into his blue eyes.
“What are you smiling about?” she asks.
Placing his coffee on the table next to the couch he watches her as she fidgets. “I’m smiling because of you angel. I think you are the only one who likes what I cook.”
“Well I mean it’s either eat this or starve.” She jokes as she side-eyes him.
“Why you little punk.” Steve moves quickly, gently pinning her to the couch, and starts to tickle her sides. She squeals as his fingers lightly move into her more ticklish spots. “Are you saying my cooking is bad?” He playfully mocks as she laughs harder. Steve’s legs are straddling her body, caging her in as he teases her.
“I was joking! I love your cooking. Steve-please!” She chuckles as his fingers finally stop. He knows not to push her too hard as she catches her breath.
Steve pulls her to sit up as they both smirk at one another. “Are you okay, angel?” His hands rub up and down her arms.
“Of course I am. I’m not a fragile doll despite what others think.” She looks away from him thinking of the night before.
Steve's heart feels like it could break. “Hey doll, look at me.” She hesitates a moment before looking back at him, his hand grasps hers as he kisses the back of each one. “I don’t want you to even let what that woman said last night get to you.”
“But Steve…” she tries to plead her case but he interrupts her.
“Listen, you are my wife. I fell in love with you for who you are. You, my angel, are the strongest woman that I know. You get up every day and fight battles that I could never imagine. On top of that, you never ask for sympathy and legit get mad at people when they try to pity you. You’re brave, positive, resilient, compassionate, and most of all a badass.”
Steve wipes her tears away as she chuckles. “I don’t know about badass babe.”
“Are you saying I don’t know a badass when I see one? I mean hell, Nat couldn’t even hold a candle to you and I’ve literally watched her kick ass. You’re my beautiful wife Mrs. Rogers. I don’t want anyone else in this world or, hell, the entire universe.” Steve gently cups her cheek and she nuzzles into it. “Do you remember our vows? We both said, in sickness and in health. I’m always going to be here no matter what. You’re stuck with me angel until the end of the line.”
Leaning towards him she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into a passionate kiss. At that moment after hearing him talk all she feels is love and admiration. Every doubt she has melts away as he expunges every negative thought she has about herself. It doesn’t matter what others think or how they saw her. To Steve, she hung the moon high in the night sky and shines bright for all to see. This is true love and true love conquers all.
(pic in the banner taken from @moosekleenex from twitter)
Nobody is stranger to insecurities, especially us women. So, in order to spread some positivity and support for everyone, I’d like to host this challenge with the theme “Body Positivity”. All you need to do is pick something that may make someone self-conscious or insecure and make them feel better about themselves. It doesn’t need to be the main focus of the fic, but it should show through.
I’ll be adding a list of insecurities to pick from, but since there are so many, you can just choose something off the list too.
The Deadline would be till August 31, 2021 September 30, 2021 (extending) and if you need an extension, let me know.
(Challenge Masterlist Here)
A few rules for the challenge:
Since my blog is 18+, the challenge is not open to any minors (even if there is no smut involved).
I primarily read for Marvel Characters, Chris Evans Characters, Sebastian Stan Characters and Henry Cavill Characters, but I’m open to reading from different fandoms and characters too. It’s always a treat to explore and get new content. Should you wish to, submit an original work too, I would love to read it! RPF is also allowed.
The pairing is your choice (reader inserts, character ships) whatever works for you.
It could be fluff, smut, dark, whatever you wish. Only, the insecure person must be made to be feel better about their insecurity.
No incest, toilet stuff, bestiality, etc. For Non-con/Dub-con, please use proper warnings and tags.
No word limit but put your stories under a cut after 150 words.
I reserve the right to not reblog any story.
Tag me in your work and also send it to me in DMs since Dumblr fucks up tags.
Tag you work with #dibspositivitychallenge and if I do not reblog within two days, DM me.
Maximum of 3 entries per writer please.
You do not need to claim any insecurity.
Orginal work only. If it's a series, tag me in all parts.
List of insecurities under the cut
Acne, Acne Scars
Stretch Marks
Body Size (too big, too skinny, too tall, too short, etc.)
summary || After a long hiatus, you’ve decided to throw yourself back into your one passion: Singing. It’s been a rocky road since the accident but you’re ready to get back onto your feet and brush off those singing chops that have been put to the side. You just don’t expect to find something more than just a fulfilling career.
pairing || singer!Bucky x singer!Reader x pianist!Steve
word count || 4200
warnings || Musician AU, future polyamory, Nightmares, Trauma, Healing, Body insecurities, depression, PTSD, scars, harassments, body shaming, hurt/comfort, descriptions of violence
Chapter Warnings || Kissing, heavy talks about past trauma, comfort/hurt, cuddling, morning wood, Bucky being a perv (Yes this is a warning)
notes || This is my entry for @gotnofucks Body Positivity Challenge
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9 Part 10
“Well come here then,” Bucky smiled, face full of light and happiness in that moment. Steve looked just as excited as he held out his hand to you.
You took the few steps needed to be wrapped up in the two men. They smelt...like home, you realized. Safe and warm in their grasp, you looked up to find both of them looking at you expectantly.
“I...don’t know who to kiss first,” you admit sheepishly.
It cut through the strange tension that had built and the three of you fell apart into laughter. Every bit of fear and anxiety washed out of your body as the laughter subsided. “Kiss Steve first,” Bucky said once it was quiet. “I want to see how good you two look.”
Your face warmed far too much but you looked at Steve who had a foggy look in his eyes. He flicked his gaze from your lips to your eyes before leaning forward. Much like your fantasy, his large, warm hand slipped around the side of your neck. It felt so much better than you had expected as he drew you forward until your lips were just a breath away.
“May I?” he asked, hesitating just briefly for consent.
“Yes,” you breathed, closing the distance.
Sparks flew across your skin, raising goosebumps all across your body. It felt so fucking good to kiss him. Like you were reborn from the ashes of your grief and depression by just the smallest bit of intimacy. His lips were so hot and trembled just a bit until he pressed harder, tilting his head to tease your lips with his tongue.
You completely surrendered to the feel, melting into him like you had in your dream. All other thoughts were gone but the sensation of his beard scratching your chin, his meticulous tongue exploring your mouth and the way his hand twitched where it held you. You got completely lost in the kiss until you both broke away for much needed air.
“Oh fuck,” Bucky whispered, breaking the moment. “That was so beautiful. My turn.”
Still a little dazed from the kiss with Steve, you were very abruptly pulled into the brunette’s body and ravished. Where Steve was slow and meticulous in his ministrations, Bucky was the complete opposite. He took your breath away by delving into your mouth with reckless abandon.
As quickly as it had started, Bucky was pulling away with a shit eating grin on his face. “Damn, that was well worth the wait,” he smirked, admiring the dazed look on your face. “Speechless?”
“Don’t encourage him,” Steve sighed dramatically. “He’s already so full of himself as it is.”
You weren’t sure what to say, still situated so that the three of you made a pretty triangle. “How long?” you found the coherency to ask.
“How long...what?” Bucky laughed, smiling gently as he looked at you.
“How long have you guys...wanted to do that?”
Steve and Bucky looked at each other, having some kind of silent conversation before focusing back on you. “A while,” Steve admits softly. “We didn’t want to rush your healing or make you feel uncomfortable.”
“Joining a couple can be...intimidating so we didn’t want to push you away or put you out,” Bucky adds. “This is your home. We wanted you to feel safe in this space. You’re not...uncomfortable, are you?”
Uncomfortable wasn’t quite what you would call what you were feeling. “No, I...I mean, I’ve thought about it...I just didn’t…”
Steve leaned forward to kiss your forehead. “It’s a lot, we get it. You don’t have to dive right in. We can take you on a date first if you want.”
“I mean...we’ve kind of already been on dates...right?” you ask, feeling a little sheepish but giddy at the same time.
They both laughed. “Yeah, I guess we have, huh?” Bucky chuckled.
“Well, we don’t have time for that right now,” Steve spoke up, looking at the clock on the wall. “We need to get to rehearsal.”
“I guess we'll talk later?” you offered, not wanting to pull away from their warmth. They both smiled sweetly, easing any anxiety you had. “I...there are some things I want to tell you before...this gets started.”
Bucky leaned forward to press his forehead to yours. “Of course,” he breathed, running a warm hand down your arm. “We won’t rush you. Take all the time you need.”
Steve’s fingers tangled with yours, allowing his heat to comfort you. “There’s no pressure. If you decide this isn’t what you want...you’re allowed to be completely honest with us...okay?” the blond reassures, kissing the knuckles of your hand lightly.
You swallow thickly. “Is...is it okay to be afraid?” you whisper, squeezing Steve’s hand and wrapping your arm around Bucky’s waist.
“Of course,” they said in unison, breaking the tension to allow room for laughter.
“I’ll go grab our music,” Bucky said, pulling away to head towards their room.
You weren’t sure how you ended up between Steve’s knees but...you didn’t want to pull away at all. He was more on eye level with you now that he was sitting. “We...didn’t push you...did we?” he asked, brushing some of your hair behind your ear gently.
The laugh slipped from you without warning. “No, Steve, I...I like kissing you guys. I just...am…”
He gently kisses your forehead, the innocent gesture becoming a fast favorite. “You don’t have to explain yourself, sweetheart,” he soothes, running the back of his knuckles against your cheek. “Words will come to you only when you’re ready to say them. We’re perfectly comfortable with simple things right now. Having you with us is a gift...but kissing you? That’s a privilege. It’s trust. It’s-”
His words cut off when you throw your hands around his neck, kissing him suddenly in a burst of raw, untapped emotion. He wraps his arms around you, pressing his big palms against your back to keep you close. You feel the heat and arousal flood every nerve but ignore it to focus on the way his mouth moved against yours.
“Oh fuck.”
Bucky’s hissed words made the two of you pull away just enough to stop kissing. Steve’s arms still held you close and your hands rested against the back of his neck. The brunette’s eyes were full of so many emotions, they were hard to pick apart. His gaze was molten heat and desire.
“Skipping rehearsal...is that an option?” he finally said, voice thick with dark desire.
There is a moment of thought between the three of you. You contemplated the possibilities but the moment your clothing was stripped and you were bare…
You take a healthy step away from Steve, looking away in embarrassment. “I-”
“No, stop,” Bucky commands, making your teeth snap shut. “You don’t have to explain anything. Look at me.”
Hesitantly, you look up to meet those intense, steely eyes. There is only compassion and admiration in those depths and it makes your shoulders relax. He doesn’t touch you and Steve stays perfectly still on the stool but has the same open expression on his face.
“No is a complete sentence. Tell me no.”
You feel your insides tremble for a few seconds before it stops. “No.”
So much power in such a simple, two letter word. It made every part of your body relax when you saw the acceptance and pride in the two mens’ faces. “Good, that’s what I want to hear when you’re unsure. No explanation, no excuses...just...no. You’re not going to hurt either of your feelings, doll. Understand?”
Nodding, you reach out to take the offered music folder. “Good,” Steve said, standing from his stool. “Let’s get to practice.”
Rehearsal was a little more challenging today but not because you were worried about singing properly. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of the blond when his large hands glided across the piano keys; you were transfixed by the look of calm on his face when he played. It didn’t help that he would look up from his playing during easy sections and catch you staring. The smile he gave was one of the sweetest things you’d ever seen. His lips distracted you to the point of missing some of your entrances.
Then there was Bucky, you couldn’t see him because it was behind you but...his voice stuck out more than usual during rehearsal. It was almost like he was singing right next to you. You could hear the way your unique timbres swirled together even through all of the other voices. It was a connection that warmed your heart; it was more than enough to make you like the men even more than you already did.
Melissa, to her credit, left you alone and focused on her own parts. You could see out of the corner of your eye the new focus she had and it made you happy. Being in an ensemble was about being supportive and wanting what was best for the group. If Melissa grew and became a better vocalist...it would make the ensemble better.
She was young, you understood that, and she needed to know the difference between healthy competition and jealousy. You had been exactly like her at that age. You were lucky enough to have a mentor who gave you hard wisdom and pushed you.
Rehearsal ended so quickly that you blinked when people started to leave the stage. Steve was there to offer you a helping hand. You gladly took it even though you were more than capable of doing it yourself. Bucky was right there by your side and the three of you gathered your things and headed home.
Anticipation and excitement was humming in every cell of your body on the walk. You knew there were some things you needed to tell them but...surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Instead, you knew that whatever you told the men...they would accept you with the grace and compassion they’d already shown you thus far.
Lunch was easy to make and before you knew it...you were sitting at the kitchen island with the two men. “I’m ready,” you say about halfway through your ‘fancy’ sandwich, as Bucky deemed it. Both sets of eyes looked to you but it wasn’t heavy, just...attentive. “To tell you how I got to this point...if you’ll listen.”
Bucky and Steve exchanged a glance full of silent conversation before looking at you and smiling sweetly. They didn’t need to say anything. You could see that their attention was completely on you.
“I was married to a beautiful man, John. He was my better half, truthfully,” you whisper, looking down at your hands. You had long since stopped wearing your wedding band because all it did was hurt. Even after all of this time, though, you felt the snug fit of it and needed to turn it idly. “He was my biggest fan even before I made my debut. He was always supportive and really pushed me to make the right decisions for my career and myself.”
His goofy smile flashed across your memory, making you smile. “We had a son,” you say, throat closing with the sudden emotion. Letting John go hadn’t been easy but letting go of… “His name was Henry and he was-”
Your voice broke as the tears welled up so quickly that you couldn’t stop them. Steve was quick to stand up and grab a box of tissues while Bucky shoved his plate away to grab your hand gently. “You don’t have to tell us if you’re not ready,” he soothed.
“No,” you whisper, taking the offered tissue to wipe at your eyes. “I want-no-I need to tell you about them. I can’t keep hiding them away in my closet. They made me who I am today. I have...I have to do right by their memory.”
Steve sat back down, touching your arm softly. “Go at your own pace,” he encourages, squeezing your arm.
It takes a moment for your throat to open back up but they didn’t seem to care when your voice trembled. “He was perfect. Silly, sweet, loving and so smart...he was the pride of my life. Giving birth to him was so traumatic and I have-” your voice squeaked but neither man said anything. “I have a terrible scar from the C-section but...he was healthy and happy so it was all worth it.”
Your tears were hot and heavy on your cheeks as they slipped off your chin too quickly for you to catch. “Henry was just getting out of his toddler phase when the accident happened. It was raining and the truck hydroplaned right into the passenger side,” you choke on the words, closing your eyes to battle through the flashing lights, sound of rending metal and that terrible, terrible silence. “The doctors told me they died instantly.”
“Oh god,” Steve whispered, standing up to wrap his arms around your trembling form. He cooed your name gently while running his hand down your head. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Bucky was quiet, merely squeezing your hand to remind you that he was there. “Is that where you got your scars?” he asked, voice barely audible. You nod, unable to stop the tears now that they have started. It was like the flood gates had been opened and you were powerless to stop the water from bursting through. “How long did it take you to recover?”
“I just got through all of my physical therapy before I got the job,” you admit, resting against the solidity of Steve’s chest. His heartbeat was steady and solid. You intertwined your fingers with Bucky’s, smiling sadly. “I stopped performing during that time. I couldn’t dance on stage with the metal bars in my leg. Theatre made me sad so I completely quit, moved into that shitty apartment and did my best to just survive long enough to be given a clean bill of health. I got a pretty hefty settlement but it didn’t last long...not in New York. It wasn’t worth their lives.”
Bucky stood up and came to your other side, wrapping you completely in the smell and heat of the two men. You sobbed, allowing the tears to cleanse the sadness and guilt from your soul. He merely held you, placing small kisses and sweet touches to help ease the hurt.
“Sorry for being so weak,” you chuckled after the tears had stopped.
Steve crouched down next to you, a serious look on his handsome face. “Stop that,” he said, wiping at the moisture on your cheeks. “You are not weak. The fact that you told us means you are strong. You’ve been through hell, sweetheart. You have never been weak, ever.”
His words warmed your soul. “Thank you, both of you,” you say, slightly interrupted when Bucky kissed you. You knew you were touch and intimacy starved but as the man stole your breath away...you realized just how much you needed this. He spoke volumes just with the heated, firm gesture and you knew this was his way of reassuring you.
Steve used pretty words and innocent gestures. Bucky, apparently, used touch and intimacy and actions to show his intention and compassion. You definitely weren’t complaining as you closed your eyes and let Bucky kiss the sense right out of you.
“I’m proud of you,” Bucky whispered once he pulled away. “So proud of you.”
The words melted you even as Steve’s fingers grasped your chin to pull your attention to him. “We both are,” he agreed, leaning down to kiss you as well. They were so different and yet so similar. You loved both of their kissing styles individually and knew this would become a favored pastime very quickly.
The three of you settled in for the night to watch mindless TV and eat junk food. It was so nice that you couldn’t help but bask in the warmth as the three of you sat all leaned against one another on the love seat under a blanket. It was warm, very warm, but you couldn’t help but burrow down between the men.
“Uh oh,” Bucky said a little past ten. You looked up to find Steve passed out with his head leaned back on the couch, mouth open and breathing even. You tried not to laugh. “I swear, he can fall asleep in any fucking position. Come on, Stevie, let’s go to bed.”
You stood to clean up the mess while Bucky coaxed the sleepy pianist off the couch. Steve grumbled a little but stopped when he walked past you. “Come with us,” he basically whined.
“Steve,” Bucky warned but looked at you. “We don’t have to do anything. We can just sleep. But...we’d love it if you joined us...only if you’re comfortable, obviously.”
Thinking about it, you realized that you did, in fact, want to join them. “I don’t want to impose,” you say out of habit, earning a skeptical look from Bucky. “O-Okay.”
“There you go,” Bucky smiled, helping Steve to the room. You followed behind them sheepishly. You stood in the doorway while Bucky put Steve under the blankets. The man instantly fell back asleep. “Want the middle? Fair warning, Steve’s a cuddler.”
You laugh lightly, stepping into the room to the edge of the bed. “You okay with that?” you question softly.
“I’d rather you be on this side,” he explained, pointing at his flesh and blood arm. “Not that I’m uncomfortable with you being there...I just…”
You pressed a finger to the man’s lips to silence him. “No explanation, remember? I understand,” you smile, walking over to the bed so you could get under the downy comforter next to Steve. Bucky quickly took his shirt off out of habit and your mouth dried at the look of his body. He was gorgeous and you couldn’t find the words.
He pushed a few spots on his prosthetic so it would detach and he set it gently on the bedside table. His body was warm as it slipped in beside you. You tucked yourself into the curve of his body, head rested on the spot where his arm met his shoulder. He got situated and smiled when Steve turned over to wrap himself around the curve of your back.
“Told you,” he whispered, body settling into the bed. “Comfortable?”
You hummed, already partially lulled to sleep by the sound of his steady heartbeat and the heat of Steve pressed against your back. “Yeah, this is nice,” you mumble before drifting off to sleep.
Steve never slept late. It was just how his internal circadian rhythm worked. He always stirred about ten minutes before his alarm went off for his morning run. Today was no different as he slowly opened his eyes, blinking the sleep away.
He inhaled the sweet smell of feminine shampoo. It took a second for him to realize he was staring at your sleeping face. His heart skipped a beat at your peaceful look, hair messy from sleep and hand resting against his chest. Steve felt warm and kind of fuzzy as he smiled.
Bucky was curled up on the opposite side of the bed. He always ended up there in the morning. Steve focused back on your face, reaching out to brush some hair away. You grumbled softly, cuddling closer until your head was resting on Steve’s bicep. He wrapped his arm around your back, holding you close to his side.
His mind wandered when the blanket slipped down, revealing where your shirt had pulled up to expose some of the skin of your belly. He could see stretch marks peeking out from under the fabric. There was an itch to run his fingers up under the shirt to feel all of those dips and curves but he knew it wasn’t the right time. You were still very self conscious and he wouldn’t do that unless he had express permission beforehand.
Still, his mind thought about what it would be like to kiss all of your scars and marks. How would you squirm when he worshiped the flaws that made you so special? All of it leading to him waking you up with his mouth and tongue and fingers buried in your pussy.
He clamped down on the thought when blood started to rush south. Shit. That wasn’t good. He couldn’t let you wake up to find him awake and hard. It’s one thing to blame morning wood but this definitely was his fault for fantasizing.
Steve jumped a little when you cuddled closer, wrapping an arm over his chest and nuzzling your face into his neck. It sent a shiver of delight down his spine. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders to hold you close. Keeping himself from getting an erection was looking like a lost cause.
“Steve?” you whispered, causing goosebumps to pop up across his right side from your breath. “You okay?”
The blond looked down to find your beautiful face looking at him. You had a groggy expression on your face and your eyes were still a little foggy from sleep. It was incredibly endearing.
No words were said as he leaned down to kiss you. You gave a small gasp and he took the opportunity to delve deeper. Hands grabbed at his shirt but you didn’t push him away. “Steve,” you breathed softly, words swallowed into the kiss.
Steve grabbed the back of your head to keep you close. He only pulled back when he needed air, staring down at your half-lidded eyes and kiss-swollen lips. “God you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, leaning down with the intention of kissing you again.
Your hands covered his mouth immediately. “Steve,” you laugh, sounding a little breathless. “I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
“I don’t care,” he said, voice muffled by your hands. “I want to kiss you.”
He reached up with one large hand and pulled both of your hands away with ease. You made like you might protest again but eventually gave into the temptation, melting against Steve. He got a little carried away and somehow ended up framing your body with his but your hands wrapped around his torso, clinging to the back of his shirt, to hold him in place.
“Mm, I see the two of you got started without me.”
Steve pulled away when you jumped from hearing Bucky’s voice all of a sudden, chuckling lightly. The man had already grabbed his prosthetic and was in the process of attaching it, eyes staring hungrily at the two of you. Steve felt his stomach twist when the brunette turned onto his side.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he teased, licking his lips. “I like to watch.”
“Buck,” Steve sighed dramatically. “That’s creepy.”
Bucky scoffed, lightly. “It’s not creepy! It’s flattering!”
The laugh that comes from you makes Steve smile brightly among other things. Your laugh stops when the blond’s erection presses into her pelvis. “Sorry,” he mumbles, moving to get off of you.
You don’t release your hold on his shirt at all. There is a sheepish look on your face and that lower lip, swollen from kissing, was suddenly trapped between your teeth. Steve knew it was a lost cause to stop his erection from twitching again. “You...don’t have to be sorry,” you whisper, not at all unsure.
“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or make you feel like you have to do something...you don’t want to,” Steve explained, feeling like he might shake out of his skin with anxiety. He wanted you, that much was obvious, but only if you wanted him.
You smile sweetly, “Thank you, Steve, but neither of you make me feel uncomfortable. I just...I’m not ready to take...um…”
Bucky scoots a little closer. “You don’t have to take your clothes off, doll. We just like being with you. Besides, we can pleasure you with your clothes on.”
“Bucky!” Steve gasped, ending up laughing at the man’s candor. It was one of those qualities that made the blond fall in love with him. He held nothing back and was blunt to a fault. Steve, on the other hand, was so dense that he had needed Bucky to grab him and kiss him to understand the man felt the same. “You’re such a perv.”
Those steely eyes stole Steve’s breath away when they pinned him to the spot. “He says that I’m the perv,” Bucky starts, leaning over to brush his lips across your ear. “But he’s the insatiable one. He’d probably like being blindfolded just to eat you out.”
He wanted to deny the fact but his dick wasn’t on the same page as it twitched against your pelvis again. “Damn it, Buck,” Steve groaned, hiding his face in the crook of your neck when his cheeks got warm.
Your body moved with your laughter, a hand running up the back of Steve’s neck to settle in his hair. The blond hummed happily when you started to scratch his scalp. “I mean, I’d hate to recieve if I can’t give back,” you whisper, kissing Steve’s temple gently.
Steve sat up, staring down at you intensely. “Does that mean...you’re interested?”
summary ⇾ in frank’s eyes, you’re the most beautiful person he’s known. he learns that you don’t see the same and he strives to prove it to you.
details ⇾ 4,157 words / frank adler x reader / 🌸☔️🔥comforting fluff, heavy feelings, suggestive themes, implied smut
notes ⇾ this is for @gotnofucks body positivity challenge! i went with the insecurities of body size, thick thighs (and added) thick arms.
side ⇾ ngl this made me cry because it’s so personal to me and to write it out was somewhat painful and comforting? i truly adore this challenge and wouldn’t have thought to write this out like this. 💞and to everyone out there, you’re beautiful babes. 🌼
[minors dni! mentions of certain explicit details of sex + suggestive themes / implied smut / foul language / a lot of mentions of insecurities with thighs and arms, overall body image]
tonight was supposed to go well. supposed to; double-take on that because it started out well... but of course, it’s not going to end as smoothly as you had hoped. the entire week hadn’t been the kindest and it’s taken a toll on your mental health with self-doubt and self-deprecation dragging you beneath the surface. work had been so stressful, a couple of hiccups that messed up the intended deadline, and let’s not even begin with the string of bad luck flung your way for nearly five days in a row.
honestly, to say the week had been rough would be an understatement. how about a hurricane of insecurities, one overthinking bulldozer ramming at full force, and a generous serving of anxiety. yet, you powered through the night like a champ, at least you'd like to think you are.
there was a small event going on at ferg’s, something along the lines of a celebration of something you weren’t quite sure of. the promise of a good night out and free drinks? considered your saturday night plans with frank sold. with a few drinks in your system and the brewing of your emotions from within is tipping you closer to the verge of breaking down but you hold on. licking your lips, you clutch onto the pint of beer as your eyes search for frank in the sea of people in hopes to go home.
your eyes soften at the sight of frank a distance away, a smile crawling onto your face as you appreciated his appearance. frank was no stranger to being attractive; occasionally stealing the eyes (and possible hearts) of many wherever the pair of you went. sure, you were confident in yourself and where you stand with frank but on a day where you felt like utter shit about yourself more so your appearance... it felt bitter.
from his strong build clad in a tacky hawaiian shirt that he swears he’ll never get rid of, to faded cargo pants down to his ankles and a pair of worn-out sneakers. it should be illegal looking that good even when he’s not trying. you gape when your eyes trail to who he’s talking to: bonnie. though they had a fling in the past, they remained civil since they called it off–being friends even–considering mary goes to her chaperoned girl guide’s sessions every week.
normally you’d pay no mind to it but now, your mind clicked together how good she looks in a sleeveless floral dress; accentuating her figure pleasantly. thin arms, slim waist, long legs; looking so much smaller next to frank. it makes your throat swell as you gaze back to yourself, taking in your plaid blouse overlaid with frank’s jacket because he noticed you were chilly. it irrationally made you hate him for being so kind and attentive to your needs because now he’s showing off those work of biceps that–”what’s a pretty face looking all upset for?” a deep voice snaps you out of your musing, blinking up to the man you find yourself growing weak for.
he smirks when you pout at him with a small tug to join back down at your occupied table. he slides onto the chair next to you, his hands already reaching to touch you; pulling you by the waist with one arm. he leans in to kiss you, slowly coaxing the thoughts clouding your mind away but it’s not for long when bonnie reappears.
she chuckles when you give frank a hit to his shoulder, trying to nudge him away. he only groans and draws back to look up to see who’s ruining the moment with a playful glare.
“really? it’s only been a minute,” frank squints his eyes at bonnie.
“i just wanted to come over and say hi. haven’t seen y/n in a while,” bonnie grins, reaching out to you and you force yourself out of frank’s protest to offer her a friendly hug. as your arms easily wrapped around her figure, you can’t help but feel another pang to your gut. you bite down on your frown, trying your best to smile at her because she’s the absolute sweetest. that means you can’t hate her even if you wanted to. maybe irrationally. put her in the same boat as frank with his stupid, kind, and thoughtful self. even then... it would still be unfair. all of these ill emotions came from your roots of insecurity. no one could’ve known.
“you did it, you broke my girl,” frank snorts when you don’t respond to any of their words that you’re certain you spaced out. you step back into frank’s chest as he circles you from behind, stabling you in his arms as you blink at the both of them. your disheveled state only elicits more waves of laughters as you awkwardly try to join in. your hands rub over frank’s arms around your waist for comfort.
“s-sorry, was a little caught up for a second there. what were you saying?”
bonnie shakes her head with a small smile, “no worries. i was just asking if you two wanted to join me and a few friends for another round at the bar down a couple of streets. rumor has it they offer jug cocktails for half the price after midnight,”
your mouth opens in surprise, from a wide smile that forms into one of uncertainty when you look to frank. he reads your expression and partially drinks in the tiredness that laces your under eyes, along with your body slightly tensing up at the invite. it’s moments like these that you truly appreciated frank’s observation skills and having no issues with his bluntness.
“nah, we’ll pass. not a fan of cocktails and i think it’s good to call it a night,” frank takes the blame, giving your hip a squeeze, “c’mon, let’s go,” he kisses the side of your head as he draws himself back and luring you with him. you barely register what’s going on until frank releases his hold around your waist only to grip onto your hand, half-tugging you to follow him. bonnie giggles, as your free hand reaches out to squeeze her hand briefly before you slip past.
“thanks, bonnie! see you around!” you manage to call out, to which she bids her goodbye with a wave, chuckling at the way frank’s relentless with dragging you away. once out in the murmured quietness, you feel like you can breathe again. he guides you to his truck and doesn’t say much, only smiling at you quietly as the pair of you walk.
to frank, he’s appreciating how you look under the glow of the moonlight. like a spotlight cast on you. he feels his heart soaring as he takes a mental image of you in his jacket. the plaid blouse and jeans combination never fails to make you look gorgeous and frank adores every part of you. in the midst of his silent appreciation, you were thinking of a hundred and one ways to not break down before you got home.
//
the drive home felt like the longest fifteen minutes of your life. though frank didn’t mind the silence, he’d be a liar to say things didn’t feel like they were on track. he was adding up the conclusion to being a terrible week at work; neither of you had much time to spend with one another when he’s been preoccupied with a few jobs including an urgent boat repair of a busted engine. that cues easily days of not being intimate because both of you had been tired so frank intends to make up for lost time.
however, the second he puts the truck to park on the driveway, it was his turn to be stunned at the way you lunge out of the vehicle and beeline straight to the front door. that gets his adrenaline running, giddily chasing after you. he tries to calm his breathing as he closes and locks the front door behind him. light footsteps padding down the halls and he smirks at his shed jacket by the bathroom door, a hint of where you might’ve gone into.
he cheekily decides to open the door... revealing you on the floor as you hugged yourself next to the sink, crying your heart out. his heart drops to his gut, feeling it stay there as he’s unable to process what’s happening. it makes his head spin, but the louder your cries echo into his ears, it triggers his body to do something, frank adler.
he rushes in and pauses just as he gets to his knees, an arm’s length away from you. both of his hands reach out carefully, half-trembling as he touches your kneecaps that flinch at his touch. he doesn’t say anything, spreading his arms wide as he sits on the floor and opens his body for you to crawl into. past your blurry vision and ragged breathing, you find the strength to enter his arms. sitting between his legs as you face him, your legs lapped over his to lock behind his back like a koala, arms haphazardly finding their way around his shoulders, muffling your cries into his chest as you fall apart.
frank catches you; eyes clenching shut as his jaw tightens at each sob that rakes past your throat. he keeps an arm around your waist to have you close, his other hand constantly stroking the back of your head as he peppers kisses to the side of your head to remind you: i’m here. i’m not going anywhere. i got you. the nights of not noticing come to bite him and even though he knows you understand–you always do–it made his heart ache. how easily you let it slip by as being tired when there’s a storm brewing from within.
he gently starts to rock you back and forth, the simple gesture acting like a double-edged sword as it draws out more cries. to the point where it got hard to breathe; your eyes swelling up so much it hurts to open them. the feeling of your body contracting around him, squeezing him tight. then one edge of the sword dissolves. frank noticing the change of breathing pattern as your crying quiets down to shaky inhales and exhales.
when you give frank’s back a small pat, he leans back just a little (not wanting to go too far) just to look down on you. the solemn look on his face pinches your heart, already feeling guilty.
“i’m–i’m sorry, this is all just–”frank lets out a tut that halts your incoming apology, lightly flinching at his tone. “don’t apologize. never do that,” he shakes his head, his hand coming to cradle your cheek. he doesn’t need to ask verbally, staring into your eyes that silently pleads to know what’s wrong. he lets you take all the time you need, patiently stroking the under of your eye to pad the stray tears that trickle down your tear-stained cheeks.
“it’s... been a long week,” you mumble past a sniff, using the back of your hand to wipe your nose, “and i just–it’s a lot,” you heave a deep sigh. “it’s one of those weeks where i didn’t think could get worse and it just fucking does. first, the project got delayed and then it’s all the little things that don’t add up to a good day and it spans out to the entire week,” the air fills in your lungs, wishing you’d feel lighter but if anything, you only feel heavier at what’s next to explain.
“and then our date night–which i was anticipating for the whole week–and instead of enjoying it i was... this is gonna sound really stupid–”frank clears his throat in effort to stop you from going down that route again that you manage a small smile. out of embarrassment and gratitude as your fingers fiddle behind his neck. “i... my mind spiraled down to noticing how small bonnie looked next to you tonight,”
the deep sigh that frank lets out sends a message to your mind that he already knows what you mean.
"some days i know i look good and i feel good. now... i just hate everything about me. i feel... big. too big. my arms, my thighs, all of me,” you sadly hang your head low as you retract your hands from him to loosely hug yourself. the only reason why frank doesn’t interrupt is so you to lose your train of thought; knowing this is just as important for you to let everything out than to be distracted.
“and it’s an on-going thing... every day,” like a puzzle picture that somehow aligns in frank’s mind, he’s able to click together how all of your wardrobe has never consisted of a sleeveless one. or how shorts never went above the knees too much unless you were in the comfort of home. he feels his chest tightening at your words but at the same time elevating, that you trusted him to confide in him. "some days better than others. some days i just want to be over with so i can forget the feeling. it constantly haunts me in the back of my mind, being self-conscious with the way i look and always trying to cover up the parts i feel shy with,”
frank feels his heart tightening at how much you believed in your words.
“and god, it doesn’t help with the media shoving what the perfect image of a woman should look like and i... sometimes i get lost in it,”
the silence that envelopes you in is nerve-wracking, half-afraid of what frank’s response would be. throughout the months of being together, he hasn’t heard about this once. the light that shone down on you was this flare of confidence frank fell in love with but it reveals to him that he’s in love with this side of you just as much.
he tries to get a glimpse of your eyes, dipping his head down and it makes you tip your chin up to look at him properly. he raises a brow, almost asking if you’re done. you don’t answer with words and instead, press your lips together to show you don’t have anything left to say.
the first thing frank does is kiss you.
it catches you by surprise, eliciting a soft gasp that he gladly swallows. it was impossible to keep a straight mind when frank’s kissing you like this–as if you’ll disappear; as if he wanted to imprint through your lips of how he felt, how you make him feel without words and through actions. you feel all of frank with just one kiss. it makes you reach out to hold onto him, clutching around his shoulders like a lifeline you can’t let go of and he tugs you up until you’re straddling him with his strong arms keeping you against him.
then he draws back to press his forehead to yours, a hand reaching up to cup your cheek fondly as he waits for you to open your eyes. when you do, his eyes are already on you, a piercing gaze that sends goosebumps to form on your skin yet the butterflies intertwined in your stomach.
“i want you to tell me whenever you feel this way, okay?” frank’s words start out soft, slowly echoing into your ears as your eardrums perked at the sound of his voice. “i know it’s a lot to ask but... i want to know so i can remind you through and through how beautiful you are to me. to know that you were feeling all of this, going through a hell of a week and i didn’t even know?” he scoffs, more at himself than at you, “if that doesn’t scream me being a horrible boyfriend, i don’t know–”you’re quick to put a hand over his mouth, making him flinch as you do so–“exactly,” you frown at him when he remains silent, waiting for you to finish your sentence.
“you couldn’t have known, frank...”
he gently peels your hand from his mouth, pressing a small kiss to your palm. “that’s the thing,” he lets out a shaky breath, “i couldn’t have known, but i should’ve.”
“i should’ve noticed how you kept repeating that you were tired when i had a feeling it was something more. and it’s not an excuse to say work’s in the way but i should’ve been more attentive and i’m sorry,” the genuine tone in his voice starts to make your heart shake in your ribcage, a couple of tears gathering in your eyes as they stray down your cheek. “f-frank...” you try shifting away from his gaze but he makes it a point for you to look at him.
“you’re so, so beautiful to me. every part of you, every single part of you is gorgeous to me,” he whispers, past your ragged breathing that you try to silence, past the blurry vision you try to keep on him as he stares at you. he’s making you cry again but not for the reasons you had earlier. these tears were out of relief; that someone as understanding and loving as frank could easily melt your concerns with his sincerity. frank wasn’t a man of many words, but when needed, all of his words struck a chord.
“i still don’t know how i managed to be with someone as beautiful and kind-hearted as you but every morning when i wake up next to you, i’m reminded of it time and time again,” he thumps his forehead onto yours, lightly nuzzling his nose with yours. the gesture makes your heart swell at the proximity. “and if i believed in god, i’d know that god spent a shit ton of time in creating you because just look at you. what is an angel like you doing with a simple boat repairman like me?”
that phrase alone plants a tinge of anger in your chest. there are days where frank feels at his lowest; bringing up that he’s not good enough for you. that there are other people out there who could provide to you more than he ever could. you know–frank knows–what he’s doing by saying that. it makes your eyes widen at him, not out of surprise but with the fiery spark he sees building in your irises.
“frank adler, don’t you dare–”he cuts you off with a thumb on your lips, “you feel that?” he’s referring to the anger brewing in your heart, the number of rebuttals you have lined up to combat his initial statement. the bucket of reassurances and threats you were ready to fire at him.
“that’s how i felt when you kept talking about how you didn’t feel beautiful,”
you know frank’s got you there before you can try to retort. he’s smart, and he uses his wit to make you understand how he feels even when he struggles sometimes but he always tries to get his point across. at the realization, hot tears start to sting your eyes–so much that you can’t keep them open. you bury your face in his neck and let the tears fall. frank catches each one, allowing you to curl up against him. he soothes gentle rubs to your lower back, the other stroking your head as you ride out your emotions.
when you’ve calmed down after what felt like a millennium, frank sees the weight being lifted from your shoulders as you look up to him. it’s not gone entirely, but he can see the difference. it made him feel good. but, he decides it’s time to shift that focus onto you.
“now,” frank smiles–the kind of smile that makes your stomach flip–guiding your head up to his eyes, “i’m gonna show you how beautiful you are to me,”
his eyes flicker down to the way your lips gape, so inviting and tempting. he swallows thickly and gazes back up to your eyes, the answer evident there. “if you’ll let me?”
you nod twice.
frank carries you to the bedroom and he makes it a point to lock the door. as he settles you down on the bed, he silences you with a kiss that makes you feel your heart is leaping out of your chest, right into his hands. then it leaves you hot and heavy; the arousal already pooling between your legs as his eyes are blown with desire and lust with the hint of determination to make you feel what he feels for you.
tonight, was going to be all about making you feel good and frank has no intentions of letting you out of this bed until you do.
((the night ends on a different note than anticipated after frank shows you how beautiful he thinks you are.
he first shows appreciation to your thighs, making you sit on his face with your thighs casing his cheeks. all while he’s showering you with words of praise while eating you out so fervently you can barely breathe right. whenever you felt like you were suffocating him, you’d try to squirm away but he’d only pull you down firmly. he makes you come by encouraging you to ride his face; after much persuasion and confidence, you do and the orgasmic bliss that hits makes you curl forward, catching yourself with a hand on the bed headboard while frank laps up your release; claiming it to be as sweet as honey.
then your arms, where he makes you wrap them around his shoulders as he fills you up hard and slow. wanting to cherish each thrust and watching as your arms try to keep a hold on him as he pounds into you. whenever your arms quivered and tried to pull back to avoid seeing them jiggle, he’d stop and dip lower for you to wrap around him tight before he continues to slide back into you. the tighter you held onto him, the faster he’d go. the longer you held on, the more he was building up to your orgasm. it didn’t take long until your grip is iron-like around him as he plunges deep into you; both of you reaching your highs and riding it out with breathy moans.
then your body, where he positions you in front of the mirror as he slips himself in from behind. he notices this one is the hardest for you and how you almost caved in to cry into the mattress than give in to his request. with gentle words of affirmation and a handful of kisses later, the two of you were able to try again as he pushes into you. the stretch and angle is making your head spin but even more as frank pulls you up to his chest. your back glued onto him and forcing your eyes to stare at your reflection as he stills inside of you.
he kisses your neck to distract you but it’s hard when you’re staring at your naked form; bare as frank remains connected to you. he gives you all the time you need to adjust; not just physically but emotionally. it was a difficult pill to swallow and it’s not going to change overnight, but frank witnesses something so beautiful when you try to accept the image you saw. it almost made him come inside of you then and there but he’s all about giving you the rewards and praises you deserve.
he starts to thrust into you as your hips rolled back to meet his pace. he keeps an arm across your chest to have you close, the other dipping down to find your swollen clit. your hands clasp onto the arm he has on you; relishing every single thing he says to you. of how beautiful you are, how good you felt, how good you make him feel and how everything about you added up to the definition of beauty.
you come for the third time that night and frank catches you again. just like he does every single time.
when he pulls out and tries to get you two cleaned up, a hand to his wrist lets him know you needed him. he wraps you in his embrace and lays with you on the bed as you catch your breath. burying your face in his chest with arms loosely wrapping around him, frank feels you relaxing in his arms.
as he leans back a little to peek down at you, he spots a small smile on your face. a genuine one. out of love, out of relief.
“thank you, frank,”
frank doesn’t need to reply, only accepting your gratitude with a soft kiss to your lips. his response transcends words as his lips move in sync with yours, tongue gently caressing yours. when you pull back to gaze into his eyes, his answer is there, staring back at you with a warm smile.
Warnings: Explicit Content; Smut; Oral Sex (F-receiving); Discussion of FGM/Clitorectomy; Allusions to Child Abuse; Allusions to Scars; Angst; Mention Cutting;
Word Count: 1.2k
Summary: You cannot carry all your pain on your own.
Author’s Notes: When I was five years old, I was subjected to a clitorectomy, a procedure that was a violation of my human rights and bodily autonomy. It has fundamentally changed the way I view my sexuality and challenged my ability to see myself as a person worthy of sexual pleasure and love. This procedure was done very deliberately to make me a person who did not have sexual autonomy and did not derive pleasure from sex. And for a long time, it worked.
When Dibs at @gotnofucks #dibspositivitychallenge came out, it really only felt right to do a piece that represented this story, because if I don’t give voice to this pain, then there’s a good chance no one else will either. Which is why I’m submitting it as part of the challenge — and it was a challenge! I’ve alluded to FGM in other, now mostly-abandoned pieces, but never anything where it is acknowledged and soothed, and for the most part, endured it alone.
And before this note becomes almost as long as the piece, thank you, @gotnofucks, for the opportunity to be okay with the things we are not.
The first time he touches you, it is a shock.
No, not like that.
Helmut Zemo invades your life like a virus, consumes your loneliness in greedy kisses, winds his arms around you like he might just swallow your pleasure whole, might make you a part of him to carry away forever. Bare yourself to him and he might sink his fangs into you, drain you of all your fears and leave only obsession in its wake, might turn you into the same cold lover as him, might just make you fall in love.
The first time he touches you, it is a shock.
You are soft and delicate and precious under his lingering gaze, under appraising fingers, under appreciative hums. He bids you Lay still, sweetling, bids you Let me look at you, bids you You are a masterpiece made flesh, and you believe him, and you forget.
You forget, as he claims your soft mouth with his own, willing and wanting. You forget, as his tongue explores the pleasurable symphony of your surrender. You forget, you forget everything. There is only the hunger of his lust, the wanting he leaves on your skin, marking you with nips of teeth and suckling kisses, makes a game of your yelps and whimpers, chuckles against your tender form, So needy for me, sweetling.
And you are.
Helmut, you plead, running fingers through his hair as he simpers with lips wrapped around the pebbled skin of your breast, watching him wide-eyed and enamored, a halo of dark locks around your face and you are made of adoration and to be adored.
Darling, he purrs, fingers sliding along your sides, Do you trust me?
And oh.
Oh, you do.
Let him kiss along the planes of your body, let him love the soft lines of you in the early morning light and bid you spread your legs for him Yes just like that, darling, good girl…
Helmut Zemo hums against your skin, takes in the sight of you full of want and wanting, your hands tangled in silk sheets and lips curved around the praise of your love and he is lost to you just the same.
The first time he touches you, it is a shock.
The softness of your sex is an intoxicant and the kisses he places to the plush apex of you is a whisper of a promise, seeking the sweetness of you on his senses and if he notices the scars where the missing parts of you are then he does not speak and if he notices the way your breath hitches and you tense then he does not speak. He only presses the flat of his tongue against that which you have, taking a decadent lap of your sweetness while you whine and if there are tears in your eyes, sweetling, let him pause to wipe them away, let him watch you in adoring silence to see if you will utter to him the words which will put a stop to this worship and bring about another kind. You are exalted and let him raise you to the heavens just like this, Just like this, sweetling.
He does not devour you, he is no beast, but he does drink of your pleasure, letting his tongue delve into your softness. Gentle hands holding you in place, encouraging you to surrender, writhe and move and let him nuzzle deeper, let him moan, soft and hungry against the feast he adores so much and when you surrender, sweetness, he is overcome.
The first time he touches you, he asks nothing.
The first time he touches you, he sees everything.
Does it hurt?
The next time he touches you, he is curled around you in bed, fingers languid and lazy against the plushness of your sex, finding the space where nerves are made scars and watching you turn, watching your eyes grow desperate and realize he saw and he touched and he loved you anyway and you say nothing at first, not until he asks again, Does it hurt you, sweetling?
Sometimes.
But today?
No.
Will you tell me?
Someday.
And he asks nothing further, only whether you are warm and comfortable here in this home he had made out of your bed and when you nod he is calmed and when you nod he is taking another hungry kiss from your plush mouth and when you nod he is patient.
He is always patient, and careful, and skilled, and waiting.
One day it does hurt, and for once, you do not hurt alone.
One day it does hurt and you tell him.
He holds you while you cry, just as he is, kissing your fingers and promising divinity in your adoration and you tell him of the girl you once were and you speak of the knives and the crimes and he listens.
He listens and in his heart, he simmers with the pain and rage you have absorbed for all your years, the iceberg shelves of his heart cracking under the weight of your hurt and your confession and he asks no questions but sweetling, you tell him every word, pressed against his chest and tears in your eyes, Let yourself cry, darling, and Helmut Zemo might be a murderer and an extremist and a villain but in this moment he is yours and there are no greater villains than the ones who drove you to this, who charged a child with crimes she did not know the names of, demanding reparation from her in her blood and flesh.
So you tell him. You tell him of the dusty hospital and the sneering faces. You tell him how your mother could not bring herself to come with you and so you stood, too young to remember your native tongue with no interpreter to make your grandmothers understand that you were afraid.
You tell him of a bird with her wings clipped before she even knew she could have flown, you tell him how you thought you would never, you tell him how it used to hurt and sweetness… you tell him how you thought he would leave you if he saw.
It’s not their fault, you tell him too, and he does not believe you but it is not his place to tell you what to feel and so instead he runs fingers through your hair and holds you to his chest and kisses your temple.
It’s not their fault, you insist, They trusted the wrong people, they were misled, they—
They are not yours to defend, sweetling, he tells you in his softest voice, breaking you from your guilt, They are not yours to justify.
And so you do not give it.
You give nothing, only your tears to a man who demands nothing, only bids you seek refuge in what safety he can give but sweetness he knows the meaning of revenge and the power of loathing and you have carried your burden for so long and justice has failed you so often — Let me carry this pain with you, my darling — and oh sweetness, you will.
You will, and he will carry you through the days you try to give a name to your anguish.
You will, and he will find the means to demand the justice you were denied because you deserve your justice, because you cannot be allowed to hurt while they go home and pretend they are correct to do this to you and your sisters in faith.
Summary- 2.7k Sam Wilson x Reader. After a lifetime of issues with your skin that result in some scaring, you have a condition called hidradenitis suppurativa. (a chronic skin condition that has painful flare ups and leaves scars.) Letting Sam see these imperfections scare you, but he is a patient man. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics
Warnings- Needle use, mentions of skin imperfections, sexual moments. This is an 18+ Only Blog.
A/N- This is written for @gotnofucks Body Positivity Challenge. As soon as I saw this challenge, I knew the topic I wanted to tackle with this. Thank you for such a wonderful challenge to participate in. Much Love always babes.
Sam Masterlist
“I have what?” You cringe at the name, it's a long complicated name that ties up your tongue when you try to repeat it, the doctor gives a knowing smile in sympathy.
“Hidradenitis Suppurativa, or HS.” He offered a simpler option for you, maybe one that wasn't so intimidating to say.
“And how do I treat it?” You question nervously, what horror was it going to be? Some sort of surgery, endless medications, injections, or worse… would he tell you there was nothing to do but live with it.
You were tired of living with it, you had the scars left over and really didn't want anymore.
“I’m going to write you a prescription, some antibiotics and an injection that you will need every week.”
Your heart lifted a bit when he filled out the email, sending it to your pharmacy. “Thank you.” you said with some relief that there was a solution to treating it. But nothing could take away what its already left behind.
All your life you lived with these small sores that just came out of nowhere in the worst spots; inside of your thighs, under your breasts, under your arms. All these years you had been embarrassed to go to a doctor about them. But Sam finally convinced you to go when he saw you in pain and refused to let him come near you because they made you feel disgusting.
That was the hardest part of it, was feeling you were hideous when you had someone like Sam who swore up and down every day that you were beautiful and tried so hard to prove it to you. Little text messages throughout the day, a surprise note stuck to the bathroom mirror for you to find, date nights out walking along the street with his arm around you and constantly whispering in your ear how he had the prettiest girl in town. All little things that he was persistent on, and sometimes they even worked. You would feel that shame lifting and your smile brightening for him.
He would wink and press a kiss to your forehead in these moments. “That’s my girl.”
Now you were sitting on the edge of your bed with the injection pen, your hand shaking slightly from the nerves. Earlier a nurse had shown you how to use it, and what to expect.
But stabbing yourself was a different story then letting someone else do it. Your fear was getting the best of you and you had to set the injection pen aside.
You drew in a ragged breath now that you were no longer holding the offending item, scolding yourself for not being able to do something so simple.
Something your body needed desperately, cause maybe the flare ups wouldn't be so bad, you wouldn't be embarrassed to let Sam see you like he wanted, less pain. All of it could be better if you could get past this point.
You never heard Sam come down the hallway towards your bedroom and happened to see you push away the injection, curl up on yourself on the bed. More then anything he wanted to take all of that pain and insecurity away from you, cause damn you were unlike anyone hes dated before. Sweeter then his grandma’s sweet tea, he could just bask in your glow that you brought to a room. Your laughter never failed to catch his attention from across a room and when you would set your sight on him, give that soft affectionate smile. Oh he was done. You made him feel like the only one in the room.
And that was just the minor stuff. Everything in his building relationship with you settled in him as it all being so right, Sam was finding he wanted nothing more then to keep building a life with you. So these moments tore him because he just wanted to fix it for you.
Sam gave a soft knock on the door frame before stepping into the bedroom. “Hey Sugar, you alright?” You rubbed at your face as the bed dipped from Sam sitting next to you and he grasped the injection pen, rolling it lightly in his fingers.
“Yes…” You lied at first and Sam gave you a look, an arch of his brow that asked for the truth. “No. Im supposed to inject that and fuck it, my hand wont stop shaking just thinking about it.” You grasped your hands together and held them still.
Sam rolled the injection in his own hands and tilted his head towards you, ghosting his lips against your cheek. “Would you like me to give it to you?”
You cringed a bit, not that you didn't trust him, you trusted Sam immensely. You trusted him more everyday that you two were together. Sam was your strength, the one you leaned on.
But you haven't been able to give up your body issues. That was something you were still scared to death for him to see. So much you wouldn't even let him see you completely naked in the light. Every night you would scramble to darken the room before settling into bed for the night. The horrible scars between your thighs that prevented you from wearing shorts or short skirts, the flare ups that shamed you till you would hide away making some lame excuse why you couldn't go out. Now this, having to take the shot made you squirm a bit to top all the other stuff.
Sam tilted his head to brush his lips to your shoulder, trying to ease you. “If you want, I can give it to you. My Gram used to have me help her once in a while with her diabetes injections. You have a trained professional right here.” He tried putting you at ease, getting you through your uncomfortable feelings, but you pulled away a bit more.
“No, it's not entirely that Sam.” You twisted your fingers together, looking down. “It’s-uhh- fuck. It's complicated.”
He frowned a bit, setting the injection aside and reached his hand to cover yours, tugging lightly till your fingers weaved with his. “Well then let's uncomplicate it Y/N.”
You lifted your gaze to look at him, this man who had the softest brown eyes and a smile that made your insides melt with just a few words, you felt silly, guilty and like a disappointment admitting anything out loud.
“Me, I'm a mess. I will always have to do these shots, my body is going to have these issues whenever it feels like, I hate looking like this, I'm so scared to let you see me…” You dropped it all, Sam’s hand giving slight squeezes and when your voice started to crack, your words getting ahead of thoughts so they were all a rush, he reached to twist you to face him, his hands moving to cup your face, thumbs sweeping sway at some of those tears tracking down your face.
“Oh Sugar, if you could see what I see, you wouldn't be worried about what I see anymore. Your stunning, fucking beautiful baby and I’m more then happy to remind you everyday.”
“You don’t know Sam, it's so ugly…” You started and he let his forehead lean against yours to calm you. You felt his hands slide around you and yours eased around him, breathe in, breathe out, let your mind stop racing.
“You don’t have to show me today, or tomorrow. Never if you are never okay with it. It's not going to change what I feel and know. So I will remind you everyday that you are the most beautiful woman to me. You love me flaws and all after all.”
You rolled your eyes a bit, scoffing. “You make it easy Sam.”
Winking at you, he slid his hands up and down your back while he eased away. “And you don’t? Sugar, you are so good to me that Sarah already told me I would be a fool to let you get away.” You could feel yourself loosening in his hold, your own arms circling up around his neck to press against him, each hugging one another. You could feel soft presses of his lips to your neck, squeezing you a bit closer. “And I agree.”
You giggled softly, nuzzling in against him and letting his strong feel and warmth wash over you. Hints of warm cedar and sandalwood tickled your nose, and suddenly everything was just better. You pulled away with a gentle “Thank You Handsome”
“Anytime Baby… now... “ He picked up the injection one more time and dragged his teeth against his bottom lip for a moment in thought. “We don’t have to rush with anything until you are ready. But this…” He tapped the pen against his fingers. “Will you let me help you with it?”
You nodded and he moved to kneel in front of you, heavy palms rubbing against the top of your jean clad thighs as you moved your shirt up over your belly.
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous about this.” You say shakily and Sam smiles that reassuring one of his that makes you feel at ease.
“Don’t you worry Sugar, I got you.” He was gentle when he pinched a bit of your skin and pressed the pen to the area. You started shivering, your breathing caught. “Hey, look at me, m’kay?” It took a moment to pry your eyes away from the pen to his warm eyes. “Not gonna hurt, I promise.”
Then there was a loud click and you jumped more in surprise at the sudden noise than anything. A slight sting was soon erased with giddiness that it was over and he was pulling the now emptied pen away from your belly. You sagged slightly in relief and Sam pushed himself up, gripping your chin gently and pressing an affectionate kiss to your mouth.
“Told you Sugar, I got you.”
Couple Months Later
You and Sam were messing around on the couch, your head laughing as he hovered over you, he was belting out a very off key rendition of Barry White’s Your Sweetness Is My Weakness while skimming fingers along your sides under your tank top and kissing down your neck. Your hands rubbed over his head to fist in the back of his shirt and tug it over his head, discarding it over the back of the cough. His own rucking your tank top over your head and leaning back on his thighs, whistling at you all stretched out before him on the couch, making you cover your face in embarrassment. “Hey, none of that. Fuck Sugar, you are so damn fine.” that last word hissed from between his teeth as his eyes dripped molten warmth, flaring in the pit of your belly.
You peeked at him from between your fingers and arched slightly to reach behind you, unsnapping your bra and he eased it down, giving a groan.
A very appreciative groan. The groan of a man who saw something he really wanted.
His mouth landed on you as well as his hands, roaming supple soft curves and tasting your sweet skin, like a collection of honey dew salt on his tongue. A nipple swirled around his tongue with a hum that was like a jolt to your system.
Lacing your veins with desire, you felt the mindless buzz of worries start to fade to the background while you enjoyed the sensations he built in you. Now and then you would catch sight of his gaze flickering upwards to you, a check in that you were okay with how this was progressing. Your body had a mind of its own, clearly aware of how to roll under his hands, enabling him to shift you further down the couch till he was inching to a kneel between your spread thighs. His hands slipped over your hips to hook his fingers in the band of your shorts, your hips arched for him to drag them away, but that is where Sam stopped. You gave an impatient whine and flickered your gaze up at him. A slight sheen of sweat coasted across his broad tensed chest, every part of him held back with anticipation, and you couldn't for the life of you figure out why Sam stopped right here.
“This is what you want, Sugar? Are you okay with this?”
Then it occurred to you he was giving you the option to say no. Some of those anxieties started to drift back, your fingers twisting together as you spiraled away from the moment. You wished he just kept going, not giving you the option. But that wasn't who Sam was.
It was now or never, and your resolve settled in you, almost a comfort that you were taking this step with him. A nod made Sam drag his teeth across his bottom lip, taking your confirmation to continue.
You squeezed your eyes shut while your shorts came off, and you felt the familiar calloused hands sweep along the inside of your thighs and spread you open wider, a soft gasp from him making your eyes shoot open in fear, was he repulsed by the scars?! You knew you should have never let it get this far. Everything in you was afraid to look and see his reaction, just picturing his handsome face looking at you in disgust.
What you saw was anything but, Sam looked you up and down with nothing but lust in his eyes and an appreciative groan as he let his thumb trace along your slit, spreading your lips apart. “Y/N, you are absolutely beautiful Sugar, and all for me? What a gift.”
You hovered at the pool side bar while Natasha mixed together a luscious fruity drink, anyone who said these drinks were “girly” simply didn't know. The amount of liquor she mixed with vibrant syrups till you had a tropical blue concoction would get you buzzed faster than any one shot of liquor could. It was just what you wanted. An explosion of fruit on your tongue that would leave you feeling good. When she handed it over, you sipped from the frosty edge with an appreciative hum. “Mmhh, perfect.” You praise while she wedged on a pineapple slice to the brim.
“I know, you are telling me nothing new Y/N.” She teased while she whipped up her own, the red head sauntering out from behind the bar with her own drink, the two of you approaching the pool side to sit in the warm sunshine. Natasha settled in one lounger, stretching herself out with another sip of her drink before setting it aside.
You spread a towel out and then unwrapped your cover to let your two piece bikini be revealed, no longer hiding yourself away.
You felt no more shame in the scars inside your thighs, the dimpling of skin where sore have healed over and over. Sam had helped you chase those fears away over time and now when you applied your sunscreen, you looked over your shoulder to see Sam strolling along the pools edge, his eyes all over you with a wide grin. Making his way over to you two, his hand sweeping around you to grasp your sunscreen bottle while kissing your shoulder. “Let me Sugar... “ He brushed his nose against your neck while moving to sit in the other seat, scooting closer to spread the sunscreen across your shoulders. “You look fantastic by the way. Is this a new swimsuit?”
You hummed while tilting your head forward, popping a shoulder as if it was no big deal, but it was the first time you had worn a swimsuit out in public in longer than you could remember. You felt his arms circle your mid section, pulling you back into his set so you could lounge back against his chest, your legs weaved through his.
“Brand new Sam, do you like it?”
He growled lightly against your ear while nipping your earlobe, whispering against the shell of your ear while he flushed playful kisses to that sweet spot just behind your ear.
“Very much so, good luck stopping me from peeling you from it later.”
Playful touches and heated kisses made you feel just like his queen in the summertime sunshine, unable to keep his affections to himself.
This is for @gotnofucks Body Positivity Challenge. This little fic I wrote hits close to home because after having a baby nothing feels the same.
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader
Rating: umm, pg? Maybe? Idk 🤷🏼♀️
Summary: You and Steve have put off sex after having a baby. But you put it off even longer because your body is different, everything has shifted. Steve gladly puts those fears to rest.
It had been months since you had sex, and Steve didn’t want to press the issue because motherhood was hard. Sleepless nights, 3am feedings, not to mention all the changes your body went through. It wasn’t that you didn’t want Steve, but after pushing a baby out and your body being bigger than you’d like, you wouldn’t let him touch you. He remained the same gorgeous man, all rippling pectorals and bronze skin.
He understood though, he never pushed you. When he went from being a scrawny kid, getting his ass beat in back alleys of Brooklyn, to the living embodiment of Captain America. He understood all to well how quickly a body change can effect a person, and he never pushed you.
You had just put evie down for the night, your hair and clothes a complete disaster. But he looked over at you from his side of the bed, like you were the most attractive thing he had ever seen. You crawled to his side, kissing him softly. His large warm hands rubbing your back softly, squeezing your butt a couple times. He nudged your chin with his other hand, you looked up at him, but he had other plans. His lips melted to your lips, hot and needy. You swallowed the moan, but he caught it smirking against your lips.
His hands began to wander, and your body stilled. You pushed back softly, smiling apologetically and moved further away. But he wouldn’t let you, his arms tightened to hold you close.
“Doll, talk to me. Please.” His blue eyes searching your face, begging for any kind of reply. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes because you couldn’t bare to look at his understanding face any longer. Not if you were about to tell him what was really bothering you.
“Just, my body is not the same. I have stretch marks, and my tummy is bigger. Not to mention how my vagina looks after pushing a kid out. Nothing is the same, while you look the same handsome man as ever. I look different and I’m afraid if you see me like I am now, you won’t want me.” Your voice quivering. The tears threatening to spill, but you just buried your face in his side.
Steve’s arms tighten, feeling you sob softly. He knew words weren’t always the answer and right now, he needed to show you, nothing had changed. Not for him. He pushed away slowly, your brows furrowed watching him.
He straddled your hips, looking down at you with a dark hunger that could not be mistaken.
His hands going to your sides, pushing your shirt up softly. You covered your face, hiding from not only his gaze but from your own embarrassment.
Steve touched your soft skin, rubbing the stretch marks, leaning down he placed a warm kiss on them. He pushed your shirt up higher, exposing your bare breasts to his hunger gaze. He rubbed them softly, knowing they were full of milk for Evie. He kissed across the swell and the valley between them, savoring how your body tuned into his loving embrace. He pulled your hands away from your face, kissing you breathless.
“Love, you have nothing to be afraid of because I will always love this body. You had a baby, my daughter, and your body is softer. But that’s because you are the caregiver to our little one, and I couldn’t be more in love with this body.” His words gentle but full of so much love. He leaned forward, kissing you slowly, with all the built up passion from the last few months. He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours.
“I understand how you feel doll, but I love this body. Curves, stretch marks and all. And if you’ll allow me, I’ll worship it just like the goddess you are.” His tone husky and rough. You couldn’t help but smile at him, this man.
“I love you Steve.” The words quiet but he grinned at you.
“I love you too doll. Always.” His words a promise, one that he would never break.
summary || After a long hiatus, you've decided to throw yourself back into your one passion: Singing. It's been a rocky road since the accident but you're ready to get back onto your feet and brush off those singing chops that have been put to the side. You just don't expect to find something more than just a fulfilling career.
pairing || singer!Bucky x singer!Reader x pianist!Steve
word count || 3683
warnings || Musician AU, Trauma, Healing, Body insecurities, future polyamory, depression, PTSD — 18+ ONLY//MINORS DNI
notes || This is my entry for @gotnofucks Body Positivity Challenge
It was supposed to be a one-shot but I have found I'm terrible at one-shots! Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6
Also on Ao3
Divider by Gordon Jordon on Pix
It was that time of year again: Audition Season.
While exciting to add new members to the chorus, it was also very brutal on the oldest members of the group because they were expected to be at every single audition. It showed that the conductor, Director Fury, put a lot of weight in their opinion, which was nice, but it also meant they were in the concert hall until about 10 every night. It got old really fast when most of the auditions were lack-luster or just downright awful.
Bucky looked down at the stage and smiled at his boyfriend. The blond was sitting behind the piano, strong hands and long fingers flying across the keys like it wasn’t even that hard. Steve was the chorus accompanist so, truthfully, did the most work during auditions. If nothing else, Bucky was here just to support the beautiful blond man.
Tonight was to replace one of their oldest members who had decided she wanted to travel the world in her retirement. It was a hard blow because May was quite the mezzo-soprano, one of a kind, really. The seven auditions they had already listened to were nowhere near her caliber and it seemed like they may not get a good replacement.
Fury checked his watch after the last person walked off stage. “Five minutes until we’re done. How many are we missing?” he asked with his monotone voice.
“Only one didn’t show,” Natasha answered, handing him the resume.
“Well, if she’s not here in five minutes she’s-”
The doors behind them opened. Bucky placed his arm across the back of the chair so he could turn and look at the woman. She was breathing heavily and there was a bit of sweat on her brow. In the bright lights of the hall, Bucky squinted a little. He could have sworn he had seen her somewhere before but couldn’t place it.
Director Fury says her name with an unimpressed tone. “Cutting it kind of close aren’t you?”
There is a slight look of embarrassment on her face as she walks down the aisle, bag slung over her shoulder. It was white with black music notes and symbols all over it. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fury, I just got out of work. I rushed over as quickly as I could,” she explained, eyes looking at all of the people sitting there. Her eyes lingered a little longer on Bucky.
Fury sizes her up before waving his hand. “Go on, give your music to Steve on the stage.”
“Thank you,” she smiles, the expression lighting up her face. She walks on delicate, lacy flats to the stage stairs. Her dress was elegant and reminded Bucky of a dress that one would wear when performing. It went all the way down to the ground, delicate lace over black silk judging by the way it moved as she walked confidently across the stage. The top went all the way up to a high collar that was ruffled with lace that matched her flowing sleeves.
Bucky couldn’t help but notice how her ample bosom subtly bounced and how her wide hips and full bottom swayed when she walked. She was a full bodied woman whose face carried features not normally associated with what was ‘pretty’ and ‘feminine’. It didn’t take Bucky long to find her adequately attractive.
She walked up to Steve with her sheet music pressed against her chest before offering it to him. Her form leaned close as they shared a few whispered words, her finger pointing out things on the music. Steve smiled at her, nodding his head as she explained something.
Satisfied, she walked to center stage.
“What are you singing for us today?” Fury asked, sounding bored and ready to leave.
“I’ll be singing, Please Don’t Make Me Love You from the musical Dracula,” she said easily.
Bucky’s eyes widened a bit at the bold choice. They had heard no less than three renditions of Ave Maria today so the change was nice but...the song was notoriously hard to sing. Fury’s mouth thinned out, anticipating another disaster.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
She took a deep breath, eyes closed and head bowed. Her moment came to an end when her head raised and her eyes opened. There was something different about them as they locked on the audience. They were full of the confidence and cool that professional musicians and vocalists brought to the stage.
She gave a slight nod to Steve who started the first few lamenting bars that set the feeling for the piece. Her eyes took on a half-lidded look to them, fully playing into the sad, longing that the song spoke of. Bucky watched as her body expanded with her first breath, eyes lifting as soon as she sang her first words.
“There’s only so much that a heart can take.”
He could feel it as soon as she started, the tension in the group around him skyrocketing. They were all shocked when her voice came out even, clear and sonorous. She had a good vibrato that wasn’t too fast or slow but perfect for the song and her control was obviously from years of training. This wasn’t a beginner who just up and decided one day to join a chorus.
Her musicality as she pulled and pushed the tempo helped to drive home the desperation of the character. The look in her eyes reflected that longing so much that Bucky almost thought he saw tears glistening in them. Bucky could see her subtle cues to Steve when she wanted to slow down or speed up that made it seem like they had practiced this together instead of just meeting.
“All my dreams were taken, until I met you!” she sang, eyes meeting Bucky’s in an almost palpable way. He felt his stomach flip at the dejected, pleading look on her face, beautiful cupid bow of her lip quivering.
“You’re the one I think of soon as I awaken...funny how the heart tells the mind what to do!” she continued, last word being sung long. Once the next line started, she whipped away, one hand on the edge of the piano and the other at her heart. “I’m not sure I can go through all the joy and the pain. Much better not to let these dreams take flight!”
Bucky felt chills pop up along the skin of his neck and arm as she turned back to the audience with her hands out. Her face glistened with sweat, her eyes wet with unshed tears and her voice clear and clean as she belted out the last word. It completely took over the room, blending with the piano beautifully into the key change.
Her eyes were back to looking at Bucky, voice doing stupid things to his chest as she continued belting out the notes like they were nothing. She was suddenly a lot more attractive to the tenor. Her voice and talent were...overwhelming.
The music subsided into a solemn diminuendo and she lowered her voice to a devastated dynamic. “Please don’t make me love you,” she took a very deliberate pause with a ragged intake of air to add more drama, “Unless you love me.”
The last note lingered in the air, vibrato making it last longer until it finally died out with the last note of the piano. There was dead silence for a few seconds afterward which was only broken by Bucky sighing, “Wow.”
He hadn’t meant to say it out loud but he just felt a performance like that justified some kind of reaction. She smiled sheepishly, bowing deeply before walking over to grab her music from Steve. Bucky couldn’t hear what he said but he could read the words on the blond’s lips, “That was fantastic!”
She gave another shy smile. “Thank you.”
“You’ll know the results in a week,” Fury called out to her as she walked down the aisle.
“Great, thank you so much for the opportunity!” she smiles, face a little damp from the stage lights. Her eyes flit across Bucky’s face for just a little too long before she averts them and walks to the door.
There is silence until the door closes behind her. Everyone in the group turned to Fury and started talking all at the same time. Natasha, their lead alto, was talking about how steady her voice was; Thor, a baritone, was talking about her stage presence; Sam, a bass, went on and on about her vibrato; and all Bucky said was that she was the one.
Fury held up his hand to get them to stop talking all at once. “I hear you,” he grumbled, looking at her resume. He had a salty look on his face. “She’s not really...appealing.”
Bucky felt his brow squeeze together. “Since when did that matter? If I’m not mistaken, Pavaratti was basically a whale when he died so why should her appearance matter?” he questioned aggressively.
Looking at the people in the group, Bucky suddenly realized that they were all very attractive. He couldn’t tell if it was a conscious choice on Fury’s part but it definitely seemed to be a subconscious bias. Fury had heard a mezzo that could probably give May a run for her money and they were second guessing because...what? She had a bit extra to her stomach and hips?
His eye twitched, anger starting to turn his vision red. It wasn’t until a strong hand landed on his shoulder that he came back to himself. Steve’s calming presence was enough to bring him back from the edge. He took a deep breath, glad for his boyfriend more than ever.
“Fury, I have to agree with everyone here. She had all of her changes marked in the music and gave me great signs so that I could follow her. She doesn’t just have talent...she’s a professional!” he pointed out, fingers squeezing Bucky’s shoulder gently.
“She didn’t even do a classical piece. She chose something from musical theatre repertoire,” Fury points out, completely abandoning the former reason.
Natasha, surprisingly, was the one to butt in this time. “Listen to me, if I had to hear another fucking version of Ave Maria I was going to pull my hair out, Fury. It was a nice change of pace and it’s not like she can’t change styles!”
“We need someone who can fill May’s shoes,” Thor adds.
“And none of the other applicants came anywhere close,” Sam said before Fury could interrupt.
The director looked between all of the people standing there and sighed in defeat. “Fine. She gets the spot.”
You are excited to get started with the group when the email pops into your inbox letting you know you got the spot. It very nearly had all the air whooshing out of your lungs as you stood in the kitchen of the diner you worked in staring at the words on your phone. The giddy feeling replaced the air as you walked into your boss's office.
“I quit!” you happily shouted, throwing down your apron and the stupid bonnet they made you wear. The look on the asshole’s face was more than worth it as you walked right out the back, grabbing your backpack on the way and got into your car.
It took a few days to get all the paperwork set up but by the time the first day of rehearsal came around, you were ready. You made sure to get there early your first day to make a good impression. You had only been that late to the audition because your boss kept trying to get you to go out with him.
Standing in front of the huge concert hall, your heart hammered. It was a sickening mixture of anxiety and excitement. You hadn’t been on a stage in...years. The fact that some of your favorite vocalists were in this ensemble made it worse. You would be standing where May Parker stood for nearly two decades with Natasha Romanoff, the greatest alto of your generation, standing right behind you and just a hop and a skip away was the tenor James Barnes, said to be the next Andrea Bocelli.
Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door into the lobby. There were two sets of doors on the wall and two staircases that led up to the balconies. You stepped in through the right doors.
The auditorium was well lit today with plush red seats that led to a hardwood stage. There were already two people sitting on the risers. You recognized them immediately: James Barnes and Steven Rogers.
If your heart hadn’t been pounding before, it definitely was now. They were both looking your way so there was no way to sneak back out either. It struck home when the blond called your name, waving with a pleasant smile.
You gripped your bag a little tighter as you walked down the aisle to them, putting on a smile. “Hi,” you say when you get a little closer. “I guess I’m a little earlier than I thought.”
The two men stood up off the risers. They seemed to loom over your short form as they came down the stairs to stand in front of you. James had a little half grin, a bit of a dusting of hair on his upper lip and chin, with his hands shoved in the pockets of his faded jeans, dark henley shirt sleeves tight over his biceps. You try to keep your eyes from lingering on the black and gold metal of his prosthetic arm.
Steven on the other hand had an open, bright smile that lit up his baby blue eyes. He had a well groomed beard and mustache that circled his very distracting lips. He was wearing a dark blue button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His jeans were dark and looked brand new.
“We’re glad to see you back,” Steven said sweetly, standing with his hands on his narrow hips.
“Your audition was fantastic, by the way,” James interrupted quickly. “I didn’t get to tell you that afterward. I was kind of struck speechless.”
The heat on your cheeks was distracting. You remember the way he whispered, wow, at the end of your performance, which had been more of a reward than any applause. The shock in his eyes as you sang to him because, who else would you sing to in that group? He was beautiful and probably broke hearts all the time with that little crooked grin of his.
“Thank you,” you whisper, embarrassed and happy. “That means a lot coming from you, Mr. Barnes.”
Steven laughs brightly, elbowing the brunette playfully. “Mr. Barnes,” he teased, eyes glistening with a mischievousness that you hadn’t expected from him.
Steely blue eyes cut to the side at the giggling blond as if in warning. When they settled on you, they were gentle and amused. “You can call me Bucky. No need for formalities,” he said with that half grin. “And before you call him Mr. Rogers, he’s Steve.”
You feel like you might burst with happiness. Being on a first name basis with one of the great tenors of your time and a man who used to travel the world playing piano recitals? It was too much.
“Here, let me get your music,” Steve smiled, turning around to walk over to the large stand. There was a box under it with black folders. He handed it over so that you could open it up. “We’re doing a lot of really great music this season.”
The three of you go over the music. You’re a little shocked at the mixture of new-age and classical repertoire in the season’s list. One in particular catches your attention: E Più Ti Penso.
“That seems a little...new,” you point out, looking over the sheet music. It was a duet between a mezzo-soprano and tenor. Your mind automatically went to Bucky and yourself singing it but you cut yourself short. There were plenty of other sopranos in the ensemble who would probably get that part. You were brand new, better to not step on any toes.
“Yeah, not usually a choice that Fury would make but we’re collaborating with the local symphony orchestra and they’re focusing on movie music this season,” Steve explained, standing next to you so he could point out the title of the movie. “It was for the movie Once Upon a Time in America. They insisted even when Fury tried to shut it down.”
You must have looked a little...forlorn because Bucky spoke up. “You should audition for the part,” he said with a gentle smile.
Your mouth opened to decline but the doors opened at that moment so more people could come into the hall. It was time to get into your places.
The rehearsal began with some warm-ups and you got swept away in the familiar routine. Sight-reading pieces after being out of the business for so long was a little difficult but you find that it was like riding a bike. Once you got past your nerves and let yourself relax into the familiarity of the work everything was fine. It made you happy to be singing again after such a long hiatus and it sure as fuck beat working at that greasy diner for dollar tips.
It, truthfully, ended far too soon for your liking. You quickly put the folder into your bookbag, slinging it over your shoulder just as Bucky walked up to offer you a hand down off the risers. Seeing as you were in a long skirt, you took the offer. His fingers were warm and calloused where they wrapped around yours, firm enough to let you know he’d catch you if you tripped.
“A few of us were going to go out for a drink, would you like to join us?” the man asked once you were safely on the ground. Again, you felt like the tenor towered over you.
Your knee jerk reaction was to decline but...you couldn’t. The look in those steely blue eyes was enough to make you relent. “Sure, that sounds nice,” you smile sheepishly.
“There’s a bar we like to go to that isn’t too far,” Steve interjected as he walked over, wrapping an arm around the brunette’s waist. It should be illegal for two such beautiful men to look so great together.
“Come on you three!” Thor boomed excitedly from across the auditorium. Natasha, Clint and Peter were all standing with him. You were a little scared to be around such an impressive group of musicians. It wasn’t until a cold metal hand pressed into the small of your back that you realized you weren’t moving.
Bucky and Steve both looked down at you with gentle, encouraging smiles, seeming to understand your hesitation. It might just be your mind coming up with stupid things but it did make you feel better. You didn’t mind the heavy hand that helped usher you up the aisle to the group.
You actually enjoyed yourself sitting outside with a table full of musicians. They were all very different but somehow made an excellent group. The main mechanic and technology director of the concert hall, Tony, joined you later as well. It was fun to listen to all of the ribbing and banter from the group.
Peter, the countertenor who turned out to be May Parker’s nephew, leaned towards you. “Aren’t you hot in all of those layers?” he asked curiously, big brown eyes full of youth and innocence. “It’s a nice night. You can take off your cardigan.”
He wasn’t trying to be rude just concerned because you had some sweat dripping down the side of your face and neck. It was rather warm even with the sun going down. You had a white cardigan over a dark blue blouse and a skirt that went all the way down to the ground.
“Thank you, but I’m fine,” you smile sweetly, tugging at the bottom of your cardigan sleeve.
The young man didn’t seem convinced but left it alone, turning back to the group. You enjoyed yourself with two drinks before standing to excuse yourself. “I had better head home before it gets too dark,” you smile apologetically, waving down the server to get your tab.
“Your drinks are on us,” Clint said with a crooked grin. He was a baritone in the ensemble and had the funniest sense of humor. “Welcome to the ensemble.”
Your cheeks heat again. You did, in fact, feel very welcomed to the group. “Thank you,” you say weakly, grabbing your backpack. “I’ll see you guys at rehearsal next week.”
Bucky and Steve stood up. “Let us walk you home,” they said in unison.
The group burst out into laughter when your eyes widened almost comically at their synchronicity. “You get used to that eventually,” Natasha grumbled into her drink affectionately.
“You really don’t have to do that,” you whisper, looking around at the darkening sky. It would be very dark by the time you got to your apartment.
“We insist,” Steve smiled sweetly, handing some cash to the server.
So that’s the story of how you ended up with the two big men on either side of you walking towards your apartment. It was, truthfully, very sweet of them to offer. You currently lived in a not so great part of town because it was all you could afford while working at the diner. Now that you were making nearly three times that you could start looking for other living arrangements.
When you turned into your neighborhood, you stopped dead in your tracks recognizing the person standing in front of your apartment building. Steve and Bucky also stopped, casting confused looks in your direction. Your previous boss was standing in front of your apartment, leaning against the brick railing of the stairs.
Involuntarily, your hands wrapped around Steve’s bicep. “It’s my former boss,” you whisper, dragging the large man into the alleyway. A very confused Bucky followed suit without needing to be told. “What is he doing at my apartment?”
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