ciarawritesmarvel

[ciarawritesmarvel]

Hi! Would I be able to request something for Steve rogers? I just had my period and had such excruciating cramps it made me think of this. Reader coming to Steve for comfort when the cramps are unbearable, him although a bit awkward comforting and helping as much as he can. Something in de lines of him getting a warm towel etc and reader calling out for him whereas he reply’s with I’m coming! And the other avengers hearing the interaction and thinking something else is going on ( if you’re comfortable with that!) awkward breakfast scene where they all tease them. Reader finding it very awkward and doesn’t go to him the next period because they think he doesn’t want to anymore. But him being super worried instead because he thinks reader hasn’t gotten their period yet and thinks something is wrong instead. Sorry for this being so all over the place! 🙈

don't apologise lovely, this is a great idea, especially as someone currently investigating whether or not i have endo, i feel you and i send you all the love in the world. we got this <3 || 2.2k words, tw periods, reader jokes about a hysterectomy, suggestive themes

"Steve? Are you asleep?"

It may have been a silly question. Steve went to bed at midnight sharp every night and had done ever since you'd known him, getting up at a sensible 7am to complete his early morning gym session in peace. As it was only 22:30, he was almost certainly awake and you were regretting ever coming to his door. You were hit with another wave of cramps, however, and clutched at your stomach in desperation.

Steve appeared in his doorway, as cheery as ever. His face fell when he saw you doubled over, and he reached for you when you looked up with pain etched onto your face. You felt yourself tear up at the simple comfort of his large hands at either side of your neck, thumbs holding your chin up to look at him.

"Oh sweetheart," he said soothingly, his tone a world away from when you'd heard him training some new recruits earlier, all yelling and harsh edges, "Are you sick?"

"Jus' my period," you said simply, feeling your eyes water under his gaze. You saw him stiffen a little and you cursed yourself - you hadn't even thought about his attitude towards this kind of thing, or the fact that being raised 100 years ago might affect his knowledge on the matter. You gulped and tried to pull away from his comforting hands, but he held firm, "Sorry, I don't know why I came here."

He seemed to snap himself out of his own discomfort as he witnessed your own, letting go of your neck only to wrap an arm around your waist and practically carry you over to his bed, where he sat you down.

"Hopefully cause you knew I'd want to take care of you," he said softly, kneeling in front you with a sheepish smile, "Not sure I know exactly how, but you can teach me."

"You don't have to," you said quickly, "I've grown up with men who were comfortable with this sort of thing and I didn't think. It's okay to be out of your depth with it if you weren't taught."

He grinned at you, funnily enough. Two warm hands landed on your knees and rubbed small circles into every bit of bare skin he could find, grateful that your hoodie stopped mid-thigh.

"You're sweet. I wasn't taught much, but I know that it's nothing to be embarrassed about and that it must really hurt, baby. I'd take it all away if I could."

"You'd pay for my hysterectomy?" you muttered, cracking a smile.

He chuckled, because he'd heard you say it before, jokingly, to Nat and had asked what it was. Nowadays he knew all threats to remove your uterus were in jest, but the first time he'd heard it he'd gone a little pale at the thought.

"And risk not having little versions of us running about the place someday?" he asked, half-joking himself. The children discussion would probably be one you'd have a little down the line, since you'd only been dating for a few months, but it was something you already joked about more often than you probably should have, "Not quite yet. Can I get you anything else?"

It was human nature to want to say no, but it would have been a lie. You and Steve didn't lie to each other.

"Actually, my hot water bottle? It's on my nightstand, I forgot it when I came to find you. It just goes in the microwave, a minute and a half, if you're sure you don't mind."

He shook his head, hands now travelling from your knees right up to the tops of your thighs and back down again. Nothing in the touch but warmth and a little bit of love maybe. You'd only exchanged 'I love you's last week, but you were already beginning to recognise all the ways in which he'd told you he loved you before he said it out loud.

"I'm on it. You want food too? Chocolate?"

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"Somebody's been reading," you said, and he looked a little guilty, even though it only made him sweeter.

"A little. Heard you mention to Wanda it was coming up, I wanted to be able to help you," he murmured, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to your temple as he got up to grab your things, "So glad you came to me, honey. Gonna take such good care of you."

"Y'always do," you said, tired and happy. There was fresh wave of pain rolling through your abdomen, sharp and stabbing, and you held onto it quietly as you smiled at Steve's retreating form. At his broad back, the muscles bunched and stretched out against one of his too-tight t-shirts. You loved those t-shirts almost as much as you loved him.

Maybe more than him, actually. There were really tight.

By the time he returned, you'd taken the initiative to curl yourself under his covers, feeling the telltale sweat on your forehead that told you the flow was getting heavier and the cramps were about to get worse. You told Steve as much through a grimace and he pouted his sympathy.

"Cuddles or space?"

It was one of your favourite phrases. The two of you said it to each other often, with both answers being totally acceptable and inoffensive to the other. It had been years since either of you had been in a proper relationship and with that came a penchant for independence neither of you wanted to shake. Some of your favourite days with Steve had been spent on opposite sides of the sofa, with only your feet on his lap for contact.

Right now, you needed a little more of him.

"Maybe just a hand on my stomach?" you asked, tentative in being too specific, "I think anything else might be a little smothering right now."

He nodded like he understood and you got the feeling he was really trying to. He crawled into bed beside you, placed his hand holding the hot water bottle against your stomach. You had to move his hand to the correct place, but you sighed in praise once he'd found it.

"Anything you need," he reassured once again, with another shorter kiss to your temple. You closed your eyes and focused on the feeling of his hand and of being so openly loved. Sometimes it was like a cramp of its own on your heart.

Then the cramps got worse and there was nothing distracting enough to take away from them.

Steve coaxed you through every wave. Told you how well you were doing, how horrible this was, how much he wished he could take on every bit of pain you'd ever felt and carry it around with him instead. It got a little dramatic at times, in fact, but in your state it was exactly what you needed and it seemed he knew that. He wasn't usually quite so affectionate with his words.

At one point, he simply had to get up for a toilet break, even though you could tell he'd been desperately trying to hold it. Another wave of pain hit just as he was washing his hands and you cried out despite yourself, the tears springing anew.

"I'm...ugh, coming!" there was a groan halfway through his sentiment that made you furrow your brow, but it turned out he'd stubbed his toe on the doorframe in his rush back to you. Despite your own pain, you'd managed a chaste kiss to his collarbone to soothe him and it seemed to do wonders.

When the pain finally subsided a little, it was around 2am and you'd royally messed with his nighttime routine.

"Sorry it's past your bedtime," you told him quietly when you were both finally trying to go to sleep. You could tell he was waiting for you before he allowed himself to succumb to sleep. You were both lying on your sides facing each other, just your pinkies locked together in your usual, minimal night-time embrace.

"S'okay sweet," he slurred, tired as could be. You tightened your pinky around his, "Wake me if you can't sleep."

You nodded, then let yourself drift off if only to ensure he got as much sleep as possible.

~~~

When you woke, it was just before nine in the morning and it took everything within you not to turn over and try to fall asleep again. You knew that breakfast was only served until around half nine around here though, at Tony's insistence, because "anything after that would be brunch, and we're not doing a daily brunch dipshits".

Steve was gone without a trace, although you were hoping he hadn't got up for his early workout without getting himself a little more sleep.

There was a trace of Steve, you found, as you swung your legs out of bed and prepared to stand. On the nightstand, he'd left pain medication, water and a freshly warm water bottle that told you he couldn't have been gone too long. One of his hoodies, soft and large enough to drop to your thighs had been left draped at the end of his bed, so you tugged it on over your pyjamas with a wry smile as you headed out.

The breakfast table was sparse - so many of these heroes having such early starts it made your head spin. But Tony was there, alongside Sam and Maria and, most importantly, Steve.

Silly-sweet Steve whose whole face lit up when he saw you traipse in. You made your way over to him with a greeting smile to the rest of the group.

"Tuckered out, Y/N?" Tony asked before Steve could even greet you with the soft morning murmur you loved. Sam instantly elbowed him in a way you couldn't explain and Steve was glaring at him too, his face starkly different to when you'd just walked in.

"Drop it, Tony."

Tony tuts. You hesitate to take the seat your hand was resting on, just in case.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about, Cap, we're all human," he grins, then his face falls dramatically, "Unless...there is something to be embarrassed about? Scared Y/N might expose your poor...performance for us?"

"Steve, what is he talking about?"

This time it's Maria who cuts in before Steve can answer you.

"He's being a child. A few of us nearby heard some stuff from Steve's room last night and Stark cares more than he should. Probably because Pepper's cut him off again."

"Uh, excuse me, Hill-"

Tony was arguing back and forth with Maria rather vehemently, but you weren't really listening anymore. They thought they'd heard you and Steve having sex? It explained why Steve was staring daggers at the breakfast in front of him, but you couldn't think of anything that would've sounded like that.

"Steve!"

"I'm- ugh, coming!"

You had no idea how you hadn't heard the innuendo in it at the time. Your skin had gone up in flames. You picked up a plate and piled it high but you knew there was no way you could stay at this table and listen to Tony's teasing.

"I'm still not feeling great," you whispered to Steve, pressing a chaste kiss to the spot above his ear, "I'll see you later, honey."

"I'll come with you," he said easily, already beginning to get up but you pushed him back into his chair. The idea of adding fuel to the fire was too much for your slightly hormonal mind to deal with right now and you could even feel tell-tale tears behind your eyes. Fuck periods.

"No, you finish your breakfast," you smiled, even knowing it wouldn't meet your eyes, "Honestly, it's fine."

And you didn't give him a chance to argue, fighting to ignore the kicked puppy look he was sporting as you quickly walked out of the canteen. You could hear Sam telling Tony to look at what he'd done, but they were out of earshot soon enough.

~~~

The day had gone by painfully slowly and you were still in pain for most of it. The relief of the pain being a little better than the night before had soon worn off, and the residual pain was still enough for you to stay in bed most of the day and beat yourself up for it.

Even though you knew you were entitled, you'd had a text from Steve telling you he'd been called to some meeting a few blocks away, that he'd let you know when he was back. It had made you feel like you should be doing something too, but the next episode came on and you allowed yourself to sink back into the pillows.

You'd also spent the day beating yourself up for your reaction to everything that morning. You could blame it on your period or that you'd just woken up, but the truth was you'd just panicked that Steve might panic. He hated people talking about his sex life in that way, always had, and the idea of you making that worse for him had taken over you.

But Tony texted to say sorry and you apologised right back, which he scolded you for. You knew he hadn't meant any harm.

It was past 8pm by the time you got another text:

Finally back. Sorry it's been so long. Your place or mine? :)

You winced at the gorgeous message. He was an altogether gorgeous man, so why did the idea of talking about what had happened that morning fill you with dread? Steve had obviously trained himself to help you on your period but it wasn't something that came naturally to him. You worried that he might feel more uncomfortable about the whole thing now and nothing hurt more than making him uncomfortable.

Can we take a raincheck? Hope the meeting wasn't too awful x

He replied back so quickly you wondered if he'd just been sat there waiting for you.

Are you okay? It was definitely awful, but I'm in one piece at least.

Something felt icky in your chest and you thought about bounding up to his door like last night and leaping into his arms, but instead you locked your phone and turned over on your side as another wave of pain hit.

It had only been ten minutes when there was a knock on your door.

"Y/N? I know you said rain check and I swear I'll go away as soon as you let me know you're alright? Is it the pain again?"

Your heart ached even more than your stomach. His kindness knew no bounds and you loved him so wholeheartedly it felt like you might burst.

"Shit, I'm sorry Steve, come in, please."

The door clicked and edged open slowly, just a portion of his head sticking through it as he assessed the situation. When he saw you all swaddled in blankets he came closer, but only to sit at the end of your bed. You reached for his hand, gratified when he offered it readily.

"Y/N-"

"No, I'm really sorry Steve. For not replying and for not wanting to see you and for this morning, especially, and the teasing. I know you hate that sort of thing and I'm so sorry I put you in that position and then I just felt so bad about it I didn't want to see you. But I always want to see you. Always, baby, I'm sorry."

He blinked. You pressed your lips together into a thin line as you waited for him to respond to your rant. A slightly pathetic rant, in hindsight, but at least it was all said.

"Struggling to see what you're apologising for, sweetness," he said eventually, rubbing his thumb into your hand, steadying, "You're entitled to want an evening to yourself, anytime. You know that."

"I do," you said in earnest, "But we communicate better than I did tonight. And I was an ass this morning."

"Tony was an ass," he correctly firmly, "But I wasn't that embarrassed, baby. I've come a long way since I came out the ice all innocent. You should know that better than anyone."

His fingers fluttered at your wrist, a spark in his eye, and there was heat flooding through you for an entirely different reason now.

"You're right, of course. Can we maybe blame it on my period messing me up and get straight to the bit where you kiss me stupid?"

He chuckles at you and you pout when he doesn't follow it right up with a kiss.

"One last thing, it'll be quick, I promise," he said, pleading, "Please don't let anything getting in the way of you coming to me when you feel like this. Sitting in my room knowing my girl is in pain is way too much for me to handle, baby."

Yes, you could have answered in words, but you were an impatient being. You surged forward to connect your lips to his instead, ignoring the stab of pain from the change of position as you melted into him, his large warm hand soon cupping the back of your neck to keep you close.

When Steve's other hand came up to your stomach in an attempt to quell the pain, you found yourself grinning too hard not to pull away. He grinned right back.

if you'd like to request something, please do so here. i'd love to hear from you, sunflower <3

#another little steve blurb for y’all <3 #steve rogers x reader

[ciarawritesmarvel]

Hi loveee❤️

So i have a request for Steve Rogers x reader

So basically the reader is shy! Insecure maybe

She is really quiet and has a badd crush on the captain but is not able to express her feelings necessarily. Overthinks alot. It's Steve's birthday and she works really hard on knitting a scarf because he once told her his ma used to knit him scarves. She writes a sweet letter for him along with it finally expressing her feelings. On his birthday they sit around and he decides to open everyone's gifts. She starts thinking her gift is nothing compared to tony's bmw or nat's gold wrist watch and basically tells him that she had ordered his gift but it got delayed. He finds out about her scarf and letter and confronts her💕

Ends with alot of fluffff 😌❤️

Ik this is all over the place but i needed to vent this idea here😂

This is utterly adorable and so are youuuu, thank you for a gorgeous request, my lovely <3 I got a little carried away with it! || 2.2k words of pure fluff

The little parcel is wrapped in deep red paper, tied with a crisp blue ribbon and the ends are curled with scissors. You've hidden it underneath the sofa where you're sat in its corner, both feet on the floor in an extra attempt to conceal its whereabouts. It's difficult not to be a little embarrassed by the effort you've put into it, but you keep reminding yourself the kind of person Steve is. How much he appreciates effort above end result.

But still, the reason it's hidden at all is in case you bottle it and can't hand it to him. You feel safer with a get out clause.

"Go on, Cap, start with me. We all know you save the best til first."

Tony, of course, is the one to kick proceedings off by handing Steve a golden envelope. So extreme, and funnily enough, so not Steve. But you knew that theatrics were Tony's thing and that whatever was inside would likely be perfect for him.

And you were right. Inside the envelope were two tickets to see the new play on Broadway that Steve had been dying to see. Tickets were so scarce even the Avengers themselves had been having trouble securing them, but Tony was a cut above the rest. Steve looked genuinely thrilled, far more than he had when he'd seen the envelope.

"This is too kind, Tony, thank you. Really."

A look of understanding passed between them. There was a lump in your throat. You subtly adjusted your foot so that your heel nudged the present further under the sofa.

"We get it, he's very rich," Sam said, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, "But mine's a knockout, seriously. You're gonna crap yourself, Tin Man."

He launched a present across the room at Steve who caught it with little effort, but shook his head at the room's antics. This mass present opening had, of course, not been his idea. He would much rather have done all this individually with everyone, or better yet, not done it at all and have nobody even remember that it was his birthday. But they'd all insisted behind his back. Obviously. You'd been there, and wanted to speak up about whether it would really be Steve's thing, but you didn't want to sound like you were knocking their kindness.

Sam had bought him a new sketchbook, but it was circular, and bore the design of his shield on the front. Thoughtful and, again, expensive, according to Steve, who had immediately examined the quality of the paper inside with wide, appreciative eyes.

Nat had bought him a new watch, and swore she got it completely legally and above board. That was expensive too. Vision and Wanda produced a gorgeous vintage record player that she had apparently enchanted to play whatever Steve wanted to hear. Bruce had built him an actual motorbike.

It was all a bit much. Yes, you were an Avenger too and you could afford whatever you would have wanted to get Steve, but you'd really thought homemade would be a million times more appreciated. Would show just how important he had become to you.

Unlike Bruce, unfortunately your version of homemade could not include a new bike.

Everyone's presents came and went while you were stuck in your own head, struggling not to hyperventilate, until Bucky placed a friendly hand on your shoulder.

"Just you left, doll."

You hadn't even seen what Bucky had given him, lost in your own musings. You were sure it would have been beautiful, Bucky knew him inside out. It was clear that your mind had been made up, anyway. You plastered a sheepish look on your face that wasn't all that made up.

"I meant to say before we started, your present hasn't arrived yet, Steve," you said, sorrowful, even though he was smiling at you as if what you'd said had no meaning, "I'm really sorry. I'll get it to you as soon as its here."

"I hope you know that none of you had to get me anything anyway," he said honestly, looking around the room before his gaze landed back on you, "Please don't worry."

You smiled, small and unconvincing, nodding your agreement. You rose from your seat, assuming the proceedings had finished for now before the not-so-surprise party later that evening. You delivered a final back-heeled kick to the present as you stood up, just to make sure it was fully under the sofa.

"I'm still sorry," you said quietly, "I need to go and get ready, I'll see you all later."

You turned and all but fled the room, not staying to hear Tony's confusion about you not usually needing any time at all to get ready for anything. You had specifically been trying not to make a scene, and somehow you'd made one anyway. It was difficult to keep the tears in your eyes at bay.

You just felt silly. It was something you hadn't really felt since high school until this year, and now you often felt a little silly anytime you left Steve's presence. He was just so good and so unbelievably attractive and made you feel so utterly at home when you spent time with him - it was difficult not to feel silly afterwards when you lay on your bed and romanticised your every interaction.

When you were actually with him, though, he never made you feel silly. He made you feel funny and intelligent and altogether giddy sometimes, but never silly. The way he valued your words, your opinions, your company, it was impossible for your heart not to skip inside your chest.

You retreated to your bed now, flopping down right in the centre of it, tired and crying. Just a little bit. He was so kind to you, all the time. He would've pretended he loved the scarf. He would've liked it, probably, but he couldn't love it, not when it was such a tiny gesture compared with everyone else's.

And the note. Shit, amongst all the dread and anxiety, you had forgotten the note. Neatly taped to the parcel and longer than it should have been. For Steve's eyes only. Practically a confession. If you hadn't have fled, you would've been forced to give that to him in front of anyone, which categorically could not happen.

"Y/N? You in there?"

Steve. You froze, then hastily wiped at your eyes, checking them in the mirror. They were a little red, but you hoped he wasn't feeling observant on his birthday. Plastering on a smile, you opened the door. He filled the entire doorframe, all broad shoulders and-

You tried to stop that thought before it blossomed.

"Sorry, just picking out an outfit. Everything okay?"

"I came to ask you that," he said, and he almost looked embarrassed but you had no idea why, "Why wouldn't you give me your present?"

You frowned.

"I told you-"

He brought the parcel, your parcel, out from behind his back. Ah. You must have kicked it hard enough for it to come out the other side. Stupid. The embarrassment suddenly made sense. He gestured for you to let him inside, since you were still blocking the entrance, so you traipsed over to sit on your bed. If he was looking embarrassed, you guessed he'd read the note. This was torture.

"I haven't opened it," he said quickly, shutting your down and sitting next to you. He kept his distance, "And I won't, if you don't want me to. But I'd really, really like to, if you'll let me."

"You read the note?" you asked, slumped and resigned to your fate, surprised by the confusion that darted across his features. You noticed the present was the wrong way up. He hadn't turned it over. For some reason, maybe self-destruction or a cruel strand of hope, you turned it over for him, to the side where the bow and the note were on full display. Untouched.

"I didn't see it," he murmured to himself, "Can I?"

Still he waited for your permission. Such a lovely man, with such lovely eyes that, even now, were looking at you with delicate care. It ached. You nodded.

He untied the bow with careful fingers that almost looked shaky in the low lamp light you'd curated within your room. The envelope was opened with equal care, and soon he was holding the A5 paper in front of his face, eyes scanning through the words.

Steve,

You told me once that your ma used to knit you scarves, that sometimes you wished you still had one of them now. I know it could never be the same, but I hope this keeps you warmer than you would be without it. One of your gifts, I think, is to bring warmth to everyone around you and the warmth you have brought to my own life is indescribable. I could never repay it, but this is a step in the right direction, I hope.

Happy birthday, Steve.

Yours, Y/N

You held your breath as he read. You could remember each line painstakingly, having taken so long to craft it. Even he wasn't oblivious enough not to recognise the meaning behind your words, the feeling that weaved itself around the page.

It had been too long. When you braved a glance at his face, his eyeline told you he was reading it a second time. You watched him get to the end and start from the beginning. Again.

You may have been unbelievably nervous, but it didn't erase your impatience.

"You're going to have to say something at some point, Steve," you breathed, not realised how out of breath you'd gotten just watching him. His eyes snapped to yours like he'd forgotten you were there. Wide and disbelieving. Impossible to read, "Or you can just leave, I guess, if you want. We don't have to talk about it again, it was such a stupid-"

He shook his head, stopping your train of thought from spiralling. But instead of speaking, he set the letter down neatly on his lap and ripped open the wrapping paper, pulling out a knitted scarf that was striped brown and beige and designed to match his leather jacket perfectly. You'd searched for the right yarn for weeks. You'd never tell him.

"How long?"

His words were little more than a whisper. There were so many things he could have been talking about.

"How long what?"

"How long did it take?" he said, turning the fabric over in his hands, running his fingers over the stitches with fingers that were definitely trembling now, "To make it, I mean?"

"Oh, not long-" you began, but stopped when he looked up at you with tears in his eyes. You felt that lump in your throat again. You'd never seen him cry. It was impossible to tell him anything but the truth, "A few months. Whenever I had a free moment and not every single day, but a few months. Five, actually."

He just stared. You kept talking.

"I just wanted it special for you. I'm sorry I lied. Everyone spent so much, I got embarrassed. It was silly."

"Not silly," he said, firm and serious, like he was angry you'd even think it, "You're not silly. You're perfect, this is perfect. I can't- I can't believe you'd remember such a tiny comment from so long ago."

You shrugged. He'd just called you perfect and you were trying not to glow.

"You'd remember. You always remember things I've said, however small or silly. Wanted someone to do that for you."

"You're not silly, you've never been silly," he says again, clutching the scarf and staring down at it again rather than you, "I only remember that stuff because I'm so in love with you I can't stand it. I never thought you'd-"

Now you were lightheaded. Had he...? He was still staring at the scarf, awestruck and looking completely oblivious to what he'd just said. But he meant it. Steve never said anything he didn't mean. Now you were glowing, bursting, grinning and you didn't try to stop it.

"You never thought I'd be so in love with you too that I can barely breathe with it?" you supplied, watching again as his watery eyes snapped up to yours once more, shock bleeding from him, "You thought wrong, I guess. Surprise."

You giggled at yourself, because you were talking nonsense and Steve loved you. It was heaven when he giggled too, wiping his eyes with his sleeve, not the scarf, and then offering you the material. You took it wordlessly, understanding between you as there always was, and wound it around his neck. It fit perfectly.

He took your hand from the scarf you were adjusting before you could react and kissed your thumb. At your sheer delight, he kissed your forefinger, then your middle, ring, pinky and then right back up to the thumb, tiny little kisses. He stared at your hand.

"Magic," he said softly, taking your hand and his to cup your cheek. You couldn't help but close your eyes, "Promise me you'll never feel embarrassed with me again. I can't bear it. You're just magic, you have to see it."

For him, you could try. For now, all you could do was lean in to kiss him and hope you'd get to do it forever.

if you'd like to request something, please do so here. i'd love to hear from you, sunflower &lt;3

#me again!

[ciarawritesmarvel]

HI👋 I'm so glad your requests are open! I squealed and was grinning like an idiot reading "Stuck Together" with Steve R. Wondering if I could ask, should interest spark, for a play on number 3 from the Meaningful Gestures list with one Stephen Strange and a GN!Reader? Instead of a hand on the cheek perhaps smoothing some stray strands of his hair out of his face and he has the "Huh? Oh. Ooohh!" moment lol. No worries if not! Thank you for taking the time and sharing your work👍

the fact that people still read stuck together has me a little emotional! that was one of my first ever fics 4 years ago and is so so special to me, it means everything that you liked it, thank you <3 || 1.2k words

---

"I'm trying to concentrate, if you wouldn't mind," he said mindlessly, his thoughts still clearly on the task at hand. Usually, he'd be able to pick your footsteps out from all the rest and you'd at least be greeted with a curt nod or an amicable hum.

"You must really be busy," you said, knowing your voice would be enough to snap him out of his musings. He regarded you with slight apology in his eyes for a moment, but quickly went back to his work, "Unless you woke up today determined to bite the hand that feeds you?"

His only answer was a disapproving grunt, but upon a few strained flicks of his fingers over his current project, he finally looked at you properly, shaking his head a little to get the hair out of his eyes.

"I thought you were Tony," he said, as if he had actually voiced an apology. It was as close as it got with him: for him to almost admit he was wrong about something was an apology in itself in his language, "And I told you that you don't have to bring me food. I'm quite capable at taking care of myself."

"Lying isn't a good colour on you, Doc," you said sensibly, placing the warm bowl of pasta next to him on the table and sticking a fork in the top, "I made extra anyway."

Hypocrite. You hoped your own lie was less transparent than his. When he dropped into this work mode, it was impossible not to want to care for him here and there, knowing the work he did was so important that things like eating and sleeping sometimes took a backseat.

"Stephen, I told you, not Doc."

"Ah, you like it," you said, not sure that was true but saying it anyway. You thought you caught a tiny smirk at the side of his mouth, but it could have been a trick of the light.

"I don't," he said firmly. But his eyes strayed to the bowl of pasta and soon his hands did too, briefly abandoning his work in favour of food, "But I do like pasta, as you know. Thank you."

You wanted to thank him for the little things he did for you so regularly. When he wasn't lost to the depths of his work, he could be rather thoughtful. Always bringing a second umbrella for you when it was raining because he knew you'd forget your own. Washing your dishes when he did his without thinking. Just the other day, you had woken up with his cloak draped over you when you had fallen asleep during one of Tony's many, many briefings.

The cloak was unspeakably warm and it was the memory of it that had led you to cook him pasta that evening. You'd already eaten.

"You're welcome," you smiled, even though his focus was entirely on his food as he began eating. You turned to leave but his voice stopped you.

"You're not staying? Where's your food?"

Ah. Caught out in the lie you knew he would see through. You turned around to face him slowly, toeing your shoe into the carpet. It was better not to give him the satisfaction of looking flustered.

"You obviously know that I didn't make extra and I made it just for you. It's like 2am, Strange, I ate hours ago."

He produced a second fork that he definitely didn't have a moment ago, and held it out to you.

"It's Stephen," he corrected, as if on autopilot, and then- "You must be starting to get hungry again. Eat."

It would have been far more difficult to protest, claim sleepiness, head to bed without a glance backwards. He always had an answer for everything. You heaved a sigh, took the fork from his outstretched fingers and sat in the chair that you were also sure he had just conjured for you.

"If you insist."

You ate in silence. You spent the majority of your time together in silence truthfully, but it was where the two of you were most comfortable. You squirmed under his scrutiny when the two of you conversed, the glint in his eye too often unbearable, but when you had a task to focus on side by side, his company was always relaxing. Warm and safe.

He kept shaking his head to get his damn hair out of his eyes though, and the movement out of the corner of your eye was getting infuriating.

"Just-" you huffed, putting your fork down in the bowl with a light clang, "Hold still, would you?"

You reached up, both hands, and smoothed the offending curled strands out of his face, finding them just long enough to tuck behind his ear securely. Pulling a bobby pin from the belt loop of your jeans, you secured the hair in place with careful fingers. You sat back to admire your work, one hand still holding his chin in place with thumb and forefinger, turning it this way and that.

"You're welcome," you murmured, finally letting go of him and picking up the fork once more, "Again."

You could feel his gaze on the side of your face. Intent. Granted, there wasn't often much physical contact between the two of you, but he had to know that he had been driving you to distraction with that shimmying to get it out of his way. Yes, sometimes the way he looked at you bordered on sinful, but you'd recently realised you'd likely imagined that as a reflection of your own slightly inappropriate thinking when you watched his hands at work.

"I'll give it back."

His voice was soft. A world away from the stern words you had been accidentally greeted with when you entered. You looked up at him quizzically but he just lightly tapped at the bobby pin with two fingers. You chuckled, surprised that you weren't feeling your face heat up.

"I have hundreds, your need is greater than mine. Keep it."

You took another forkful of pasta, and he was still just looking at you. You gestured to the bowl with your fork.

"It'll get cold."

"As hot food tends to," he muttered, forever a smart ass. You rolled your eyes, "You do a lot for me, you know, Y/N. And somehow, you're good company when I feel like I'm losing myself in something."

There was that look in his eye again. Unbearable. It felt almost impossible to meet his gaze for too long when he looked through you like that.

"Anyone would want to-"

"Actually, nobody else does. You keep me grounded, and I appreciate it," he said earnestly, and you managed to keep your eyes on him long enough to know how much he meant it. Still, he could feel you itching to brush it off, so he did it for you, breaking your gaze, "Take the compliment and eat your pasta."

You did just that. You took the compliment and allowed it to warm you inside and out, and ate more of the pasta you'd cooked for him. In fact, he hadn't seemed to eat much of it at all. It was a comfortable silence until the bowl was finished, and although you tried to take it with you when you left, he refused to let you wash up what you'd cooked for him.

You glanced back at him at the edge of the room as you were leaving, just quick enough to catch him touching the bobby pin again. There was an expression on his face that looked like reverence.

"Goodnight, Stephen."

You were granted one of his rare, genuine smiles. Maybe you weren't imagining it after all.

#timezone reblog

[ciarawritesmarvel]

HI👋 I'm so glad your requests are open! I squealed and was grinning like an idiot reading "Stuck Together" with Steve R. Wondering if I could ask, should interest spark, for a play on number 3 from the Meaningful Gestures list with one Stephen Strange and a GN!Reader? Instead of a hand on the cheek perhaps smoothing some stray strands of his hair out of his face and he has the "Huh? Oh. Ooohh!" moment lol. No worries if not! Thank you for taking the time and sharing your work👍

the fact that people still read stuck together has me a little emotional! that was one of my first ever fics 4 years ago and is so so special to me, it means everything that you liked it, thank you <3 || 1.2k words

---

"I'm trying to concentrate, if you wouldn't mind," he said mindlessly, his thoughts still clearly on the task at hand. Usually, he'd be able to pick your footsteps out from all the rest and you'd at least be greeted with a curt nod or an amicable hum.

"You must really be busy," you said, knowing your voice would be enough to snap him out of his musings. He regarded you with slight apology in his eyes for a moment, but quickly went back to his work, "Unless you woke up today determined to bite the hand that feeds you?"

His only answer was a disapproving grunt, but upon a few strained flicks of his fingers over his current project, he finally looked at you properly, shaking his head a little to get the hair out of his eyes.

"I thought you were Tony," he said, as if he had actually voiced an apology. It was as close as it got with him: for him to almost admit he was wrong about something was an apology in itself in his language, "And I told you that you don't have to bring me food. I'm quite capable at taking care of myself."

"Lying isn't a good colour on you, Doc," you said sensibly, placing the warm bowl of pasta next to him on the table and sticking a fork in the top, "I made extra anyway."

Hypocrite. You hoped your own lie was less transparent than his. When he dropped into this work mode, it was impossible not to want to care for him here and there, knowing the work he did was so important that things like eating and sleeping sometimes took a backseat.

"Stephen, I told you, not Doc."

"Ah, you like it," you said, not sure that was true but saying it anyway. You thought you caught a tiny smirk at the side of his mouth, but it could have been a trick of the light.

"I don't," he said firmly. But his eyes strayed to the bowl of pasta and soon his hands did too, briefly abandoning his work in favour of food, "But I do like pasta, as you know. Thank you."

You wanted to thank him for the little things he did for you so regularly. When he wasn't lost to the depths of his work, he could be rather thoughtful. Always bringing a second umbrella for you when it was raining because he knew you'd forget your own. Washing your dishes when he did his without thinking. Just the other day, you had woken up with his cloak draped over you when you had fallen asleep during one of Tony's many, many briefings.

The cloak was unspeakably warm and it was the memory of it that had led you to cook him pasta that evening. You'd already eaten.

"You're welcome," you smiled, even though his focus was entirely on his food as he began eating. You turned to leave but his voice stopped you.

"You're not staying? Where's your food?"

Ah. Caught out in the lie you knew he would see through. You turned around to face him slowly, toeing your shoe into the carpet. It was better not to give him the satisfaction of looking flustered.

"You obviously know that I didn't make extra and I made it just for you. It's like 2am, Strange, I ate hours ago."

He produced a second fork that he definitely didn't have a moment ago, and held it out to you.

"It's Stephen," he corrected, as if on autopilot, and then- "You must be starting to get hungry again. Eat."

It would have been far more difficult to protest, claim sleepiness, head to bed without a glance backwards. He always had an answer for everything. You heaved a sigh, took the fork from his outstretched fingers and sat in the chair that you were also sure he had just conjured for you.

"If you insist."

You ate in silence. You spent the majority of your time together in silence truthfully, but it was where the two of you were most comfortable. You squirmed under his scrutiny when the two of you conversed, the glint in his eye too often unbearable, but when you had a task to focus on side by side, his company was always relaxing. Warm and safe.

He kept shaking his head to get his damn hair out of his eyes though, and the movement out of the corner of your eye was getting infuriating.

"Just-" you huffed, putting your fork down in the bowl with a light clang, "Hold still, would you?"

You reached up, both hands, and smoothed the offending curled strands out of his face, finding them just long enough to tuck behind his ear securely. Pulling a bobby pin from the belt loop of your jeans, you secured the hair in place with careful fingers. You sat back to admire your work, one hand still holding his chin in place with thumb and forefinger, turning it this way and that.

"You're welcome," you murmured, finally letting go of him and picking up the fork once more, "Again."

You could feel his gaze on the side of your face. Intent. Granted, there wasn't often much physical contact between the two of you, but he had to know that he had been driving you to distraction with that shimmying to get it out of his way. Yes, sometimes the way he looked at you bordered on sinful, but you'd recently realised you'd likely imagined that as a reflection of your own slightly inappropriate thinking when you watched his hands at work.

"I'll give it back."

His voice was soft. A world away from the stern words you had been accidentally greeted with when you entered. You looked up at him quizzically but he just lightly tapped at the bobby pin with two fingers. You chuckled, surprised that you weren't feeling your face heat up.

"I have hundreds, your need is greater than mine. Keep it."

You took another forkful of pasta, and he was still just looking at you. You gestured to the bowl with your fork.

"It'll get cold."

"As hot food tends to," he muttered, forever a smart ass. You rolled your eyes, "You do a lot for me, you know, Y/N. And somehow, you're good company when I feel like I'm losing myself in something."

There was that look in his eye again. Unbearable. It felt almost impossible to meet his gaze for too long when he looked through you like that.

"Anyone would want to-"

"Actually, nobody else does. You keep me grounded, and I appreciate it," he said earnestly, and you managed to keep your eyes on him long enough to know how much he meant it. Still, he could feel you itching to brush it off, so he did it for you, breaking your gaze, "Take the compliment and eat your pasta."

You did just that. You took the compliment and allowed it to warm you inside and out, and ate more of the pasta you'd cooked for him. In fact, he hadn't seemed to eat much of it at all. It was a comfortable silence until the bowl was finished, and although you tried to take it with you when you left, he refused to let you wash up what you'd cooked for him.

You glanced back at him at the edge of the room as you were leaving, just quick enough to catch him touching the bobby pin again. There was an expression on his face that looked like reverence.

"Goodnight, Stephen."

You were granted one of his rare, genuine smiles. Maybe you weren't imagining it after all.

#this is written by me from another blog #there’s a cute little cap oneshot tomorrow too if you like that sort of thing <3

[ciarawritesmarvel]

uncle bucky

#the good shit #tfatws spoilers #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers

[ciarawritesmarvel]

I’m Captain America. ↳ THE FALCON AND THE WINTER SOLDIER (2021) | 1x06: One World, One People

#captain america!!!!!!!!!!! #i cried multiple times but it’s all good because we have a new captain america!!! and his name is sam wilson #tfatws spoilers #the falcon and the winter soldier #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #tfatws

[ciarawritesmarvel]

DONATE TO THE GEORGE FLOYD MEMORIAL FOUNDATION

[ciarawritesmarvel]

Despite the verdict, this doesn't bring him back to his family and this doesn't mean that police brutality has come to an end.

Black people are still getting injured and dying at the hands of police.

George Floyd Jr., I hope you can rest easy now.

Black Lives Matter, Still Matter, and Will Always Matter.

[ciarawritesmarvel]

Simu Liu as Shang-Chi in Marvel Studios’ Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

#holy shit yes #simu liu’s reaction to the trailer drop on twitter has made my day!! #and the trailer itself was a close second

[ciarawritesmarvel]

sam wilson appreciation post.

there’s no one in the mcu more caring, and gentle, and empathetic, and kind. he is the best friend everyone needs. someone who will call you out on your bs. someone who is kind enough and loves you enough to tell you what you need to hear even if you don’t wanna hear it. someone who treats you like family and gives you a place to stay. someone who listens and takes ones feelings into consideration. he’s the one you call one when you’re in trouble and need help.

sam wilson is just a good man. i say it all the time, i know. i can’t help it.

and they way he interacts w everyone in the show just makes my heart explode. he tries to reason with his enemies. john walker deserved nothing more than to rot in cell, but sam still wanted to talk things out. he comforts bucky, yes, but he also tells him what he needs to hear. he’s there for his family and doesn’t leave them behind despite the war he’s fighting against the flagsmashers. he believes in karli. ugh, i could go on and on about this man.

and bucky barnes. let’s talk abt character development for a moment. first off, he smiled genuinely too many this episode. i cry. anyways, the way he recognized his wrong and APOLOGIZED. HE APOLOGIZED. writers and directors always just kinda blow it off and leave the viewers assuming that the characters have made up and that it’s all good. but bucky apologized to sam. that- that is what i’m here for. as a poc that means so much, bc a lot of non poc don’t even make an effort to understand, to try and empathize. he tried. and he did.

lastly. i love this show. i love these men. bucky barnes is beautiful. sarah wilson deserves the world. i wanna take aj and cass out for ice cream. sam wilson was lookin like a snack and servin us lots of beautiful melanin.

yeah, sam wilson is my hero. sam wilson is captain america.

end of the story. goodnight.

#emerging from the shadows briefly just to hype up sam wilson #as i should #sam wilson

[ciarawritesmarvel]

let's hear it for sam wilson,

the kindest character in the mcu who right from the beginning has been one of the most empathetic voices that people can't help but listen to, who can relate to the struggles of those who are ignored or tossed aside in favour for the big battles and players, whose first option is peace and not violence, who sees someone getting hurt and steps in even though he's been disrespected by that person several times, is genuine and tries to make things right and cares.

he cares.

#sam deserves so much more recognition #as does mackie #his performance in tfatws is so brilliantly subtle and should be praised as such!!

[ciarawritesmarvel]

time it took Marvel to release the #ZemoCut: six days *chef kiss*

#this #this is what makes this world worthwhile i think #we’ve finally found it friends

[ciarawritesmarvel]

ciara!!!!!!!! omg!!! ‘four sunrises’ was AMAZING!!! i absolutely loved it! it was so so so soft 🥺🥺🥺💓💓💓 i have absolutely no words to describe how much i needed that fic. thank you! hope you’re fine! have a lovely day/night 🥰

omg viti hi!!!! to hear from you is just absolutely wonderful, i hope you’re doing well lovely!! i am over the moon that you enjoyed ‘four sunrises’, it was a real labour of love writing it. softness is my middle name and i’m hoping to release a few more super soft fics in the next few weeks! sending loads of love your way always <3

[ciarawritesmarvel]

oh my god!! hi!!! I was so excited to see you in my notifs I almost screamed ajdhsj (luckily I caught myself because I was in class waiting for my teacher 🙊) but hi!! im so happy to see you! hope all is well! ❤❤❤

hi lovely!! this made me grin so much! you’re just too sweet. thank you for taking the time to send me this, it is so kind of you and the thought of you excited to see my name? that’s crazy! it just gives me that warm fuzzy feeling inside.

i’m so happy to hear from you too and am sending you lots of love and good wishes. i hope class was good 💕

#this really did brighten up my day!! #sending anon love takes time and takes a lot of kindness so i really do appreciate it #just as i appreciate you my love #happy tag #anon

[ciarawritesmarvel]

four sunrises (+ the one you missed) - bucky x reader

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Canon-typical descriptions of Bucky’s past (mentions of violence, trauma, therapy), Endgame is discussed and the grief that comes with it, all with a fluffier ending

A/N: Hello loves! It’s been a long, long time. I’m by no means ‘back’, whatever that would mean, because I don’t know if this is a one off bout of inspiration or if it will stay with me. Fingers crossed. Regardless, I’m sending each and every one of you so much love and light and happiness. I hope you enjoy this little one shot with little pockets of fluff throughout <3

—

one

There was so much fire, it was a wonder you even noticed the sunrise. But still, your eyes were drawn past the death and the destruction and the wasteland laid bare before you and to the large semi-circular portion of the sun just peeking above the horizon. The new light signalled the start of a new day, a new era maybe, but there was little hope that came with it for now. Not with the wrecked sobs carrying through the air and to your ears from Tony’s body just a few hundred yards away. Not with people combing the battlefield for friends they can’t find. Friends they won’t find.

You keep your eyes on the rising sun and bite the inside of your cheek just enough to hurt a little.

“Hey.”

Keep reading

#timezone reblog

[ciarawritesmarvel]

four sunrises (+ the one you missed) - bucky x reader

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: Canon-typical descriptions of Bucky’s past (mentions of violence, trauma, therapy), Endgame is discussed and the grief that comes with it, all with a fluffier ending

A/N: Hello loves! It’s been a long, long time. I’m by no means ‘back’, whatever that would mean, because I don’t know if this is a one off bout of inspiration or if it will stay with me. Fingers crossed. Regardless, I’m sending each and every one of you so much love and light and happiness. I hope you enjoy this little one shot with little pockets of fluff throughout <3

---

one

There was so much fire, it was a wonder you even noticed the sunrise. But still, your eyes were drawn past the death and the destruction and the wasteland laid bare before you and to the large semi-circular portion of the sun just peeking above the horizon. The new light signalled the start of a new day, a new era maybe, but there was little hope that came with it for now. Not with the wrecked sobs carrying through the air and to your ears from Tony’s body just a few hundred yards away. Not with people combing the battlefield for friends they can’t find. Friends they won’t find.

You keep your eyes on the rising sun and bite the inside of your cheek just enough to hurt a little.

“Hey.”

The voice is soft, hardly meant to be heard above the crying and the shouting and the crackling fires that surrounded you. Still, when you looked to your left at the sound, you found Bucky Barnes stood a little behind you, bruised and solemn. You looked back to the sun. You’d already had to deal with Steve and Thor and Bruce (new, hybrid Bruce) staring at you like you were some sort of ghost when you had ended up side by side at different points in the battle. You weren’t sure you could stand it anymore.

Then again, you had no idea whether Bucky had even been here. Had he been gone? Last you saw him, he was running ahead of you and into the fray in the heat of Wakanda. You’d lost him, lost everyone, once Thanos arrived and hurled you into the trees like you were nothing. And then, all of a sudden, you were nothing.

“Hi Bucky. You okay?” it was reflex, but you winced as soon as you said it because of course he wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay. You looked back at him, seeing he had now stepped up beside you properly, “Sorry, stupid question. It’s good to see you, though.”

“And you,” he said sincerely, glancing between you and the horizon, “I’m glad you’re okay. Well, not okay, but-”

“I get it, Buck, don’t worry,” you said, just a small smile on your lips. He returned it. There wasn’t any light in his eyes, but yours were likely dim too. You were trying your best.

“Were you-” he began speaking, but stopped quickly, his eyes now trained on the sunrise instead. He couldn’t look at you, “I mean, were you...here? Or did you…”

He trailed off. It wasn’t as if he needed to continue anyway. He was asking you whether or not you had watched yourself turn to dust a few hours ago and then been woken up by a sorcerer who told you that it had actually happened five years ago. If he was asking, then it meant he’d been gone too. You hadn’t spoken to any of the others who’d been gone yet.

“No, I haven’t been here. You were gone too?”

You saw his body sag beside you in what looked like relief. You supposed perhaps there was a fear that you had been here the whole time and were still unbothered seeing him beside you. Maybe you should have hugged him by now.

“Yeah, I was...gone.”

He still hadn’t turned back to you yet. You threaded your arm through his and shuffled a little closer, a flare of pain shooting through your ankle that you’d forgotten about for an hour or so now. Even so, it was worth it just for a little contact with another human being. Bucky tensed underneath you, but you felt him ease up soon enough. You’d visited Wakanda a few times during his time there so you considered him a friend, whether or not the sentiment was returned.

“I don’t know what to say,” you mumbled, hoping he’d hear you anyway. The sun was well over halfway above the horizon now, looking huge and predatory as it took up its position in the rapidly brightening sky, “Not just to you, either, but to anyone. They’ve been living this whole time and we’ve just been dropped back into their lives again. Now Nat’s gone and Tony’s…”

You trailed off, lump firmly lodged in your throat. There was an unspoken question in your rambling: Where do we go from here?

“You don’t have to say it,” he said gravely, “I don’t know either.”

You looked over your shoulder, just briefly, just because you couldn’t stop yourself. You wished you hadn’t. Before you could look for too long, Bucky’s shoulder was nudging yours and you looked back up at his face. Dark eyes. An almost imperceptible shake of his head. You understood immediately. The sunrise was better for now.

When you turned back to it, Bucky’s shoulder was right next to your head, and you were so tired, so when your temple hit the leathery material of his jacket you decide to let yourself have this one. Again you feel the muscles tense, but a few seconds later they relax, and you try to do the same.

“Maybe we stick together, at least a little. Might help us get used to whatever world we’ve come back to?”

There was a pause. Then a little weight that felt a lot like he was resting his head on your own.

It was as close to a yes as you were going to get.

---

two

“If you don’t let me in, I’ll just use my key, you know. The knocking is a courtesy, Barnes!”

You were shouting a little louder than you wanted to in an apartment complex at six in the morning where the walls were thin and the tenants were cranky, but you’d been knocking on Bucky’s door for at least five minutes now and he still hadn’t let you in. He was definitely in there. Without a doubt.

This was proven not twenty seconds later when there was a few clicking locks and the door opened just a crack. There was a sliver of Bucky’s face in view, enough to notice that he hadn’t been shaving and his eyes looked more tired than you’d ever seen him. It was hard to keep the pity from flooding your features.

“What do you want, Y/N?”

“To let me in, genius, come on! I’ve got breakfast,” you shook the bag of takeout in his eyeline and watched his face fall. You tried not to take it to heart.

“Maybe some other time,” his voice was defeated and you were lucky that you saw the door slam coming before it happened. You stuck your foot out into the gap and winced when he shut the door right on your foot. His eyes widened, and so did the door as he backtracked, “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t-”

Ignoring him, you walked inside. He was still in the middle of apologising for your foot, but stopped short when he realised it was part of your tactic all along. Resigned to his fate, he sank down onto his couch while you busied yourself in the kitchen getting plates out for the breakfast.

“I tried bringing dinner last night, but you didn’t answer,” you said nonchalantly, whether he was listening or not, “Thought I might try and get you early morning and see what your temperament was like then.”

“I’m sorry.”

It was empty, but you didn’t mind so much. He might not have been sorry for his behaviour now, but you knew he would be eventually, when he pieced himself together a little. That was enough to keep you around, along with the little moments that made it worth it. Last week, you’d forced him into a walk through a park and mentally screamed with glee when he laughed at two squirrels chasing each other.

“Don’t be, we’re here now,” you said easily, “We’re going to eat breakfast on your tiny balcony and watch the sunrise like the world’s okay - okay?”

No response.

Still, the breakfast was all set so you brought both plates out onto the balcony and balanced Bucky’s on the rail while you tucked in to yours. You’d had to wait for him to join you before and you’d happily wait for him again.

It took him seven minutes. You were counting.

He nibbled at the food to start with but soon ate a lot more ravenously. It was likely a while since he’d had anything other than the box of cereal you’d seen in his bottom cupboard. Sam texted you yesterday to ask how he was since Bucky wasn’t replying to his texts, but it was difficult to say how he was. You’d both missed five years, but he’d missed a lot more over the last century. Sometimes it was hard for him to see what he still had.

“Why are you here?”

It was a question he’d asked you before. There was only one answer.

“Because I want to be.”

There was nothing else to say. You stood and watched the sunrise over the rooftops in a swirl of pinks and oranges until every last shade melted into the brilliant blue of the daytime. Bucky watched too, and even if his mind was elsewhere, you were just glad he was here. With you. You hoped eventually it would be enough.

---

three

“We shouldn’t be here,” your whispers were harsh in the dark room and Bucky glared at you until you lowered your voice further, “We cannot be here right now.”

“If we don’t do this, nobody will,” Bucky reminded you, still glued to the window as he kept watch of the road. Technically you and Sam were meant to be resting and your watch didn’t start for another half hour, but you were nervous and awake and the silence was beginning to get to you. Sam’s soft snores from the other room were a lovely reassurance that he was safe and peaceful, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Maybe nobody should, Bucky,” you insisted, coming over to lean against the wall he stood beside so that he had to face you, “We were just starting to get somewhere back at home. You were just starting to get somewhere, you know, with the therapy and the amends and everything. Now we’re off chasing bad guys like we’re Avengers again!”

His look towards you was sharp.

“I was never an Avenger.”

You huffed out a breath at his indignance.

“You could have been,” you said, quieter still, “You should have been. But now, after everything, I don’t want to be that anymore. I quit. I quit a long time ago.”

“Then go home.”

“You really want me to?”

It was an unfair question. You knew he didn’t, but you also knew he was too proud. That he  didn’t like to think about the fact that he was the sole reason you were here, risking your life again in the pursuit of a justice you’d all but given up on. Guilt was enough to poison your conversation beyond repair, if you let it.

“I don’t want you to be anywhere you don’t want to be,” he said instead, a fact rather than a real answer. A cop out. You shook your head, frustration seeping out of you as you turned your back to the wall and tilted your head back against it to stare at the ceiling. You could see Bucky’s gaze still trained on the road outside, refusing to even spare you a glance. It was infuriating.

“And I don’t want you here but we don’t always get what we want, Barnes.”

He didn’t respond right away, but you did see his eyes flicker over to you then back to the road, and it felt like a little bit of progress. It was a good few minutes before he spoke again.

“I think the therapy is helping too,” he whispered, not reacting when you rolled your head to the side to stare at him again, “But it’s not enough. Nothing ever will be. Doing stuff like this, saving peoples’ lives? That’s the closest I can get to making up for what I did.”

“It wasn’t you-”

“I know. Doesn’t matter.”

You wondered whether you would ever be able to convince the man in front of you that nothing he had ever done to hurt others was even remotely through fault of his own. Wondered if all the therapy and the coaxing and the amends would fall short of that one simple task. Guilt was enough to poison your mind beyond repair too, if you let it.

You were beyond determined not to let it.

“Matters to me,” you said, soft and forgiving, “And to Sam. And to Steve too, when he was here. Matters to a lot of people.”

There was something else on the tip of your tongue. You matter to a lot of people. It felt too vague. Not enough and yet too much for the humid European hotel room you were holed up in. Bucky was silent again, but this time you could see that he was just getting his thoughts together. You could see the faintest tremble in his hand as he held the blinds at just the right angle for his vantage point.

“Thank you.”

You...hadn’t been expecting that. It was much more usual for Bucky to show his gratitude to you and to others over the past few months. He brought by extra groceries when he got his own, squeezed your shoulder when he got up to grab drinks from his fridge, even bought you flowers that one time. It was rare of him to say it, though.

“What for?”

“Wanting to be here.”

You scoffed at that. It couldn’t be further from the truth, and yet here you were. Maybe he was onto something. You doubted you’d still be saying that in a few hours when the so-called bad guys showed up and you had to actually fight them. For now, there was a truth to his words you hadn’t wanted to acknowledge.

“I don’t,” you said, deadpan and teasing all at once, “Want to be here, that is. But you’re welcome anyway, I guess.”

You saw his lips turn up in a smirk or a smile, it was hard to tell from this angle with only a small square of filtered light on his face from the window. Sunlight. That meant sunrise. You moved closer to the window and manoeuvred so that you could see through the slats. Sure enough, the sky was a shade of dawn peach, even if the sun was hidden from view by the cityscape.

The last sunrise you’d seen was over six months ago and had been shared with the same man. The same silence. This one was just slightly more comfortable.

“I don’t want you to go home,” he murmured, no more than a breath of air leaving his lips, “Just, by the way.”

It was your turn to smile or smirk or whatever it was. You had already known, of course, but it was nice to hear him say it. It was a good job Sam was asleep or he’d be telling you to ‘get a room’ again.

“I know,” you said with a small nod, then your smile became a grin of pure mischief, “You want to play I-spy?”

A loud groan.

“I’m not playing I-spy with you, Y/N-”

“Why not! I won’t cheat this time, I promise-”

“You say that every time, and yet-”

“Okay, I do not say it every time you-”

“You say it every time!”

When Sam walked through from the bedroom later and found you defending your choice of the word ‘Darkness’ as Bucky sat slumped with his head in his hands, he wondered why he’d let either of you take watch in the first place.

---

four

A year. A whole year. There was a lot you could do in a year. You could build a business. Grow a herb garden in a series of ill-fitting plant pots on your balcony. Learn a new skill. Forge a new friendship. Fall in love.

You could also miss people. A lot. So much, in fact, that when the date that you lost them rolls around again, any progress you made in that last year is rendered insignificant.

Especially when you’re sitting on a park bench and they’re not sat beside you.

You missed Nat. You missed Tony. Missed Wanda and Vision and Steve and Thor. Some of them weren’t even gone, just out in the universe somewhere, yet to return. You weren’t sure they ever would. Part of you hoped they had found something wonderful, something to eclipse all the grief and the loss and make them whole again. Then they’d never have to come back and see you so different to the person they used to know.

You were vaguely aware that somebody had sat down in the space next to you now, which frustrated you more than you’d admit to anyone. You pressed the palms of your hands into the wood of the bench until the contact stung.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

Bucky. Of course. Your hands relaxed without conscious thought. When you turned, there he was, looking at you with just the slightest tinge of apprehension. Like he knew he was intruding, but he did it anyway. He was growing his hair out again. It was nice.

“You know me that well?”

“This is the fourth place I came to,” he admitted, looking down at his shoes as he kicked at a particularly interesting tuft of grass, “But fourth isn’t bad, right?”

“Fourth isn’t bad,” you assured him, “But you didn’t need to come. I’m fine.”

“You’ve been out all night, Y/N,” he said gently, like he was the bearer of bad news. In fact, he was, because you had no idea it had been that long. When you looked upward and saw a murky grey instead of the pitch black that had stained the sky when you sat down, you shivered, “You’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yeah. Just thinking.”

“You know that’s a bad idea, especially today. We should do something else.”

“Like what?”

You gave him a withering look that he didn’t deserve, but he took it in stride. He hopped up from the bench and held out a hand to you, leaving it there when you didn’t take it right away.

“There’s a fair in town a couple of blocks away. We’re going.”

“A fair? Are you kidding?”

“Nope,” he said seriously, no room for argument in his tone. He even reached forward and grabbed your hands from the bench, pulling you up to a stand despite your groan of protest. It took a few moments to stretch out your legs before he let go, “We’re going to a fair. You’re going to crash into me on the dodgems enough times for me to want to press charges, then I’ll buy you all the cotton candy you can eat.”

“Is this really the right thing to do on the anniversa-”

“What would they want us to do? Sit on a park bench and wish they were sat here with us?”

You glared at him, but it was meek. Tony would laugh at you for doing this. Nat would roll her eyes at your sentimentality. It would just make Steve sad to see you sad. Bucky was right, even if you refused ever to utter those words in that order.

“Will you win me the biggest teddy bear we can find? Because if not, I don’t see the point of going.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but he offered you his arm nonetheless and you took it as you started walking in what you could only assume was the direction of the fair. You briefly wondered how many dates he might have taken to the fair back in his day, how many had hung off his arm and grinned at him all night. None of them had been with this Bucky before though, you reminded yourself, this new rough-around-the-edges Bucky, trying-his-best Bucky. Shiny, polished 1940s Sergeant Barnes was far less your type anyway.

“You know, if I do try and win you a teddy, it’s going to look like we’re on a date.”

So clearly his train of thought had aligned with yours. Without much care for the consequences and with a courage that only came from the thought of missed chances, you slid your arm out of his and took his hand instead, sliding your fingers through his gloved ones. It was his metal hand, you could quickly tell, but you weren’t going to let him pull away when he realised which hand you’d latched onto.

“Would that be so bad?”

He looked down at you like any second now you were going to realise which hand you were holding and want to swap sides, or like you were going to throw him away and ask for a new one. You held firm. When he realised you had no intention of changing anything, you felt his hand push a little firmer against your own, his fingers slot further into place. You really wanted to pull the glove off and entangle your fingers with the metal underneath to make a point, but you decided that could wait a little longer.

“So...this is a date?”

He just had to spell it out. You’d just held his hand, but he still had to check. It was endearing honestly, so despite your reluctance to share too much, you knew you needed to be forthcoming for him to believe that this was anything real.

“I would really like it if it was, Bucky,” you said, in an attempt to be as clear as possible. You curled your other hand around his bicep and suppressed a wide grin when you saw the smile your statement had brought out of him. He was trying to keep his cool too.

You were both failing miserably.

“Well, that works out then.”

You laughed, squeezing him a little closer and relishing in the fact that he didn’t move away, but instead pulled you into his side. The shadows of the street were brighter every minute that passed, even though the actual sunrise was hidden from view by the apartment blocks and skyscrapers that surrounded you.

And if the newfound warmth you felt was from the sparks that flew each time your shoulder bumped his rather than the break of a new day, you weren’t giving anything away.

---

+the one you missed

“Bucky?”

You’d managed to get the door open with a little more effort than it should have taken. Your muscles were still sore from training the new recruits yesterday, though you wouldn’t have had it any other way. The fact that Sam had found something so perfectly suited to your skill set without the danger you had been trying to avoid was something you were still trying to repay him for.

Now, you were up on the roof and stretching out your left arm as you looked around for some sign of the man who’d called to invite you here last night and insisted that, yes, it was necessary to meet this early in the morning and no, he couldn’t tell you why.

“Over here, genius.”

You turned. There he was. A blanket was set out next to him and when one corner of it folded over in the chilling breeze, he scrambled to smooth it out again. You chuckled quietly as you made your way over to him and gestured to the little oasis he’d created for the both of you.

“What’s all this, mister?”

“Our anniversary, baby.”

It was a newfound nickname, one that still sent a thrill through you every time you heard it. The fondness laced within it was something you hadn’t even gotten used to yet, but you could see yourself wondering how you ever lived without it sometime soon.

“We’ve been together for four months, Buck, I don’t think we have an anniversary just yet,” you said, just a little nervous that you were forgetting something. Bucky looked smug enough that you thought he was more likely to be concocting a scheme instead, but you took his hand and let him lead you to sit down anyway.

“I haven’t told you what anniversary it is,” he assured you as he sat down beside you on the other cushion, pulling a picnic basket from behind him into the center of the blanket. You hoped that he wasn’t about to pull out a plate of chocolate covered strawberries, because the idea of him feeding you anything was enough to put you in stitches.

It was a pleasant surprise when he pulled out two styrofoam cups that smelled chocolatey. When he passed you one and you took an eager sip, you hummed at the hot chocolate in the cup. When he then pulled out a couple of plates and a half and half pizza that suited both of you, the elated laugh you let out was practically involuntary.

“Whatever it is, can we have this anniversary more often?”

You both laughed and although you wanted to push more on what the occasion was, Bucky plated up your pizza for you and you ended up fully distracted by the delicious food and the dashing company.

There was a comfort that came with being by Bucky’s side that you weren’t sure you’d ever found previously. A certain sense of pride came too, from knowing that you could provide some of that same comfort to Bucky in return. Sam was sick of the two of you already. Of course.

“You want to play I-spy?” you asked quietly once you’d finished eating, lying back on the blanket and tugging on Bucky’s jacket to encourage him to join you. He grumbled slightly, but he soon lay back beside you until the back of his fingers were just brushing your own. You didn’t tangle them together just yet, because the anticipation was still so sweet.

“You know I don’t.”

“What if I promise not to choose ‘darkness’?”

“Let me guess, you’re thinking of something beginning with U?”

“Oh come on- wait, how did you know?”

He rolled his head to the side to look at you and you mirrored his position, noses just an inch from each other.

“Y/N,” his voice was soft and you could feel the words against your lips, “You can’t see the universe.”

You were ready to argue your case, but Bucky’s face was just too close to your own. Letting the discussion go (only for now), you leaned in and pressed a series of chaste kisses along the underside of his jaw. You were only cut short when he became impatient, cupping your face in both hands and bringing you into a kiss that made your toes curl in your shoes.

You had to turn over onto your side properly, shuffle around on the blanket a little, but the kiss still felt pretty perfect. When he sat up, he took you with him, pushing further into you as the kiss grew heated. One of his hands was in your hair, the other wrapping around your waist under your shirt, the cold metal contrasting feverish skin sending sparks up your spine. You tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck and grinned at the groan that escaped him as he pulled back just enough to breathe.

“It’s been a year,” he panted out urgently, like he’d been waiting all night to tell you because he had been waiting all night to tell you. He’d been waiting a whole year, if he were being honest.

“A year?”

“Since I fell in love with you,” he explained simply, only continuing when you stared at him dumbfounded and didn’t say anything, couldn’t say anything, “That day I wouldn’t let you in and you brought me breakfast. We watched the sunrise in silence and that...that was it for me.”

You’d exchanged ‘I love you’s before, just a few weeks ago. Not that it was intended, but he had sent you a postcard while he was on a week long mission - an actual postcard, full of innocuous details about the location rather than anything mission related. A cheesy little ‘wish you were here’ at the end that made your heart swell. It was inevitable, really, when you called him three minutes after you read it and told him you loved him.

You got his voicemail, but you said it anyway, and the reaction you got from him when you were finally reunited a few days later told you that you’d made the right call.

However, him telling you exactly when he’d fallen in love with you? That was new. Unexpected. Another part of his soul laid bare before you even though you were content with the pieces he’d already shared. You had always kept them safe, tucked away in your top pocket, close to your own heart. Now you had another piece of him to carry around with you and you couldn’t feel more honoured.

“You…” it was natural to want to question it first, but you stopped short. Accepting what he’d said first time would be a much better sign of your trust, and you needed him to know how much you reciprocated everything, “You’ve been it for me for a long time.”

You were still short of breath, but there were no complaints when he pulled you in for another kiss. Softer. Slower. The heat from before now spread through to your fingers and your toes and became an overwhelming warmth instead. It was a warmth that Bucky had brought into your life ever since you’d decided to stick together amongst the death and the destruction.

Some of that warmth might have been from the sun, which was steadily rising and painting the dark sky and with a whole new colourful palette. Bucky had chosen this time in the morning specifically so that you could create a new tradition of watching the sunrise every year just like this, had planned to create something that the two of you would remember forever.

He only realised this about half an hour after the sun had fully risen but it didn’t matter. The memory was already carved in stone and outlined with gold marker in both of your minds.

---

Thank you for reading this far! <3 I’m not tagging anyone, because it’s been a long time and I’d hate to suddenly pop up in people’s mentions without any warning after so long when they may not want me there. If this has found you anyway, then I count myself super lucky to have you here, thank you!

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes drabble #bucky imagine #bucky oneshot #bucky drabble #bucky fanfic #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel fanfic #marvel imagine #four sunrises

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The masterlist in your bio doesn't have a link on mobile :( :( :(

I’ve tried to fix it so many times but it doesn’t want to work :( :(

I’ve pinned my masterlist to the top of my blog, so hopefully you can find it there lovely!! Thanks for reading, I wish you a wonderful rest of your day!

#ask