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sunvmars · 8 months

Text

sour | s.r. [2]

pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader

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word count: 3.2k

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of abortion, pregnancy/pregnant reader- that's ab it

summary: you and steve discuss plans for the pregnancy, steve faces the consequences of his actions

a/n: oh boy have i got a little plot twist coming for y'all soon. also, the chapters will get longer as more of the story is revealed!

“I’m pregnant, Steve.”

Steve's hold on you became a little tighter. He found himself unable to fully process the information you'd just dropped on him; you being pregnant wasn't something he had even considered. You stood still in his arms, allowing him time to process the news and awaiting any type of response from him. He took a deep breath, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. The words kept repeating in his head; she’s pregnant, she's pregnant, she's…pregnant.

"Steve? Did you hear me?" you questioned, voice slightly muffled by how you were being pressed into his chest.

Only after hearing your voice again did he move. He released his grip on you and took a step back to look you in the eyes. His eyebrows furrowed, his expression containing a mix of disbelief and confusion. There was something else hidden below the surface of his gaze too- a deep-rooted concern. A concern not only for you but for the tiny little life growing inside of you too, the life both of you created.

"What..? I'm sorry, this is just, uhm, wow."

You cock an eyebrow up at him, "That's all you've got to say?"

When he doesn't respond, you scoff. His eyes search the room as he tries to avoid direct eye contact with you.

"Well, now that you've made this abnormally awkward, I think I'm gonna go home now," you chuckle, trying to hide your irritation, ''Since I'm having your baby, please feel free to call me when you've got something else to add, alright?"

He grabs your arm when you turn to leave, "Wait. I'm sorry, y/n. Come inside, please. We can talk in here.”

Reluctantly, you allowed Steve to guide you into the apartment. His grip on your arm stayed gentle but firm like he thought you were gonna turn and run away at any moment. Once fully inside, you noticed how everything seemed so familiar yet foreign at the same time. Most of the pictures were off the wall except for two.

One picture was one that Tony had taken at the beach a year ago. The photo was of you, Steve, and Bucky sitting in the sand. You were laying in Steve's lap with your head resting on his chest while playing rock, paper, scissors with Bucky for the last slice of Steve's birthday cake.

The other photo just had you and Steve on your first date. You'd made him take a picture with you in front of the movie theater you went to. It was the oldest theater in town and, at some point during the night, you made a joke about how the theater was the only thing as old as him in the city.

He'd rolled his eyes at the joke but found himself unable to contain a smile when he saw your face light up as you laughed. You were witty, and that was his favorite thing about you, even if he was on the butt end of the joke. As long as you still had that pretty smile on your face, he didn't care how many jokes you made about him.

The soft, white couch you'd picked out together when the two of you first moved in was still there too and so was your favorite vase. The vase was missing the flowers though- the flowers he'd come home with every Friday without fail. More often than not, the ones he bought the week before weren't even dead yet, but he'd buy you new ones anyways.

"Ma used to tell me that if someone buys you flowers and they don't die for a long time, that means they really love you. But it's unavoidable that they'll die eventually, right? So I figured that if I buy you new ones before the old ones die then you'll never get the chance to forget how much I love you," he explained, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead.

"Right, but what if I forget anyway?" you joked with a smile.

And then he shrugged and gave you a peck on your nose, "Then it's a good thing I'll be right here to remind you, honey," he cooed.

You bit your tongue, forcing the lump in your throat to go back down upon remembering all of the moments you shared. This was your home until just a couple of months ago, and now it felt like you were standing in a shell of what used to be your safe space.

Steve led you to the living room, the last room you'd been in before he gave up on your future together. He gestured for you to take a seat and you plopped into your favorite recliner that didn't even seem like it'd been touched since you left. The tension in the room was palpable as he sat on the far end of the couch, the side farthest away from you.

"You scared I'm gonna bite you or something?" you joked, rubbing a hand over your aching stomach.

He gave a short-lived chuckle before speaking, "Listen, I'm sorry for my reaction," he began, his voice filled with sincerity, "I didn't expect this, and I'm sure you didn't either."

You nodded to show your understanding, "It's alright, this is a lot for both of us."

"What do you wanna do..?"

"Me?"

His brain blanks as he tries to think of whether or not he'd said something wrong.

"Yeah?" he finally says, almost saying it like a question.

"It's not just my decision, Steven. You get a say in this too."

"I do?"

You laugh a little at his confusion, "Yes. You do."

"I'm sorry, it's just that with everything that happened I... I'm trying to say that I'd understand if you didn't want me involved in this decision," he says, looking down at the floor to avoid your eyes.

"Steve, look at me," you begin, pausing until he looks back up at you, "I wouldn't leave this choice up to just me. Whatever decision we make has to work for both of us though."

He looks up at you with surprise etched all over his face, "Thank you, y/n. It's more than I deserve."

"Mhm, tell me about it," you sigh while still rubbing a hand soothingly over your stomach, trying to ease the nausea.

He's silent, avoiding the dreaded breakup conversation. Luckily enough, neither of you are ready to have that discussion yet. He claps his hands together in his lap quietly and clears his throat to get rid of the silence.

"Do you know how far along you are?"

"No, not yet. I have to find a doctor. I'll ask Tony to make the call for me tomorrow."

"So, what do you wanna do?" he asks again, emphasizing the 'you,' "Have you thought about...you know?"

"The alternative? Yeah, I thought about it for a bit, but I think I wanna keep it. I've only known about the little guy for less than an hour and I'm already attached."

What you said was true, you did think about every possible alternative from abortion to adoption; but at some point on the way here, you'd decided on keeping it. You feel a bit of hope when you look down at your stomach. You smile to yourself, momentarily forgetting all your troubles. Though your smile is quickly replaced with a frown when you remember the situation at hand. You look up to lock eyes with him, seeing he's clearly hesitating to respond.

"But if you don't want this, I can raise him or her alone. Y'know, move out of town or move a few states away to be closer to family so there are no unwanted run-ins. The whole nine yards," you say softly, wiping a stray tear off your cheek.

"Oh, y/n," he mumbles, "I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be like this- I didn't want any of this."

You take in his words, trying to make sense of them. You felt your heart beginning to break as he remained silent. How can he just give up so easily before it even gets hard? Not that you'd pressure him into raising a kid he didn't want, I mean you did give him the choice, but his words still come as a surprise.

"So, the whole nine yards it is then?"

"I'm sorry, y/n..."

“I need you to look at me and say it, please.”

Steve looked around the room, appearing as though he was about to cry. His eyes finally land on you and you swear there's bits of guilt and regret in them.

"I don't want this baby."

That was all you needed. Hearing him say the words to you only solidified that y/n l/n and Steve Rogers didn't stand another damn chance. You sniffled as you stood up, trying to conceal any glimpse of sadness he could possibly see in you. You make your way to the door and go to turn the handle only for him to start speaking and stop you in your tracks.

"Y/n. I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't expecting any of this. I don't know what I want yet."

"Of course you do, Steven, you just said it," you say with a fake smile as you turn to look at him, "I'm not upset with you for not wanting this, but I'm disappointed that you're not the man I thought you were. If you change your mind, you know where to find me, but decide soon because I won't let you be in and out of our lives."

With that, you leave and quietly shut the door behind you.

The drive back to the tower is entirely too slow and painful. You slipped your shoes off once back inside the comfort of your room and made your way to the bathroom to run a bath. After sinking in the warm bubbles and water, you unlocked your phone to unblock Steve's number. You awaited a text as you bathed- a text that never came, that is. You felt a little silly for ever thinking he'd want this with you but brush the feeling off quickly as it makes you feel physically sick.

You dry off, slip into your favorite night clothes, then slip under your covers. After trying to fall asleep for four hours and either waking up after a few minutes or not being able to fall asleep at all, you text Bucky to see if he's awake. It's about 3 a.m., but he responds after only five minutes to tell you he's coming to your room. The fact that he knew you wanted him to come over without saying it had a smile spreading across your lips.

When he arrived, you hugged him tightly and let out a shaky breath you'd been holding. He pulled away from the hug and looked at you with a concerned expression painted on his face.

"What's wrong?" he asks, hands resting on your arms.

"I'm pregnant, Buck."

You laugh a little to hide the way your voice cracked but Bucky sees right through it. He frowns at the sight of you, taking in the dark bags under your eyes and your skin that was paler than your usual tone.

"Let's go sit down, yeah?" he smiles warmly.

The two of you sit on your bed in silence as you lay your head on his shoulder. You make small talk after a few minutes, Bucky mainly asking questions about what you plan to do and how you feel.

"I'm guessing you told Steve?" he inquires.

He feels you nod slowly against his shoulder and he takes it as a sign to continue.

"And how did he take it?"

You shrug before speaking, "It seemed like he wanted to be a part of it all at first...then he said he didn't want this, but then he said he wasn't sure."

"Huh," he sighs out of confusion, "You know I'm here for you though, right? Both of you are my best friends, no matter how stupid he's being."

"I know you are," you reply.

"I know it's early and all, but have you thought about if you want a girl or boy?" he asks cautiously, worried the topic might upset you, "If you keep it, that is," he quickly adds.

"Buck, can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I went to Steve's to get his input, but I think I decided to keep it as soon as I found out about it. I hate Steve so much right now, but this baby is a piece of both of us. I can't bring myself to get rid of something so innocent just for being a part of him," you explain, "I know it's not that simple for other people, but I did want kids with him eventually. I'm not unhappy with the pregnancy, I'm unhappy with the circumstances. Boy or girl, I'll be overjoyed either way."

He smiles to himself briefly, "You've got the biggest heart, you know that? You'll be a wonderful mother, y/n, and I mean that."

As hard as he tries to come up with an explanation for his friend's odd behavior, he can't. He'd promised you that he wouldn't go digging for answers when you broke up, you'd told him you didn't care to know and that it wasn't his problem. You're his friend, so he respected that. But now? Now it wasn't just you that Steve was abandoning, which meant that now he had to have answers.

Your breathing slows after a little bit, a sign that he recognizes as you getting sleepy. Slowly, he lays down, cradling your body so that you lay down with him. He lets you rest your head on him as he strokes your hair back soothingly. He waits until he hears your soft snores to gently ease your head onto your pillow before getting off the bed. He'd decided that he was going to get answers, even if it was three-forty in the morning.

Back at the apartment, Steve had only moved once to turn off the lights, pour a glass of alcohol, and sit in your recliner. He would never say it now but he hated being alone in the apartment without you. This wasn't his home, and it never was, not without you there with him. The space that used to be filled with your laughter and your love now felt void of anything other than cold. He sat in the dark, alone with his thoughts, as he did almost every night since you broke up.

His phone buzzed, startling him out of his thoughts. The timing of him getting a message was unusual given the late hour. He picked up the phone and saw it was from Bucky, he smiled softly in hopes that his friend would offer some sort of help. He was sadly mistaken.

Bucky: We need to talk.

Steve frowned at the cryptic message as he typed a response.

Steve: About what?

Bucky's reply was swift.

Bucky: You know exactly what.

A knock sounded at the door no more than ten minutes later. He sighed, mentally preparing himself for whatever talking to he was about to get.

"It's open," he called out.

The door opened to reveal Bucky. As he walked in, the light from outside lit up his face and allowed Steve to see his expression of concern and irritation. He closed the door behind him and then turned to face Steve.

"I'm starting to worry you're turning into a vampire or something, punk. Why are you sitting with all the lights off again? Haven't we had this talk before?" he questions, flipping the overhead light on, "Have you been crying again?"

Steve groans and rubs his wet eyes with his free hand, "No," he lies.

His eyes narrow in Bucky's direction as he walks towards where he's sitting. Steve then brings the drink up to his lips to take a sip only to have it yanked away.

"Buck-"

"Now this is new, is this alcohol?" Bucky asks, bringing the glass up to his nose only to recoil at the scent, "Steve, oh my God, What is in this?"

"Whiskey, tequila, a little bit of everything. Well, everything she left here."

Bucky looks away, desperately trying to contain a laugh, "You can't even get drunk. What are you doing? What's the end goal here?"

"The taste helps me forget how big of an idiot I am," Steve confesses as he snatches his drink back, "It's like a punishment."

"Glad you know you're an idiot, it makes my job here easier."

"Did she send you over here," Steve asks, looking up at Bucky through his eyelashes.

"No, she didn't. But she told me what happened and I came here on my own," Bucky responds, "You know as well as I do that she can fight her own battles."

"Then why are you here?"

"To check on you. And like you said, you're an idiot. I'm here to figure out why you're being such an idiot, though. Whatever Steve you've been for the last four months isn't the Steve I know."

When he doesn't answer, Bucky continues talking, "I've let this go on for far too long. I should've asked when I noticed you were acting weird, but I chalked it up to how rough that last Hydra mission was. But this whole baby thing is the last straw, Steve. I've had to put up with your dumb decisions recently, I deserve an explanation. The woman carrying your child does more so, but we'll get to that."

Steve let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders slumped as he realized there was no escaping the conversation. Bucky had always been a straightforward friend. For as long as they knew each other, he was never one to beat around the bush, and he wasn't about to start letting Steve get away with stuff now.

"I don't even know where to start," Steve admits, his voice laced with frustration.

He takes another sip of his drink, hoping it might give him the kick he needs to explain himself. His face turns up at the taste and Bucky tries yet again to conceal a laugh.

"Okay, enough of that," he says, taking the drink back out of Steve's hands.

Bucky crosses his arms and sits on the end of the couch closest to Steve, giving him a stern look, "How about you try starting with why you decided to walk away from her? She's the best thing that ever happened to you, Steve, we both know that."

Steve winces at his words. He knew Bucky was right, as he usually was, but facing the same truth every day didn't make it hurt any less. It actually hurt worse since he knew that this entire situation was his fault.

"So?" Bucky says, urging Steve to speak.

Bucky instinctively brings the glass up to his lips and takes a sip. His expression turns from understanding to disgust as he spits the drink back into the cup.

Steve chuckles under his breath, "Habit?"

"Think it was the feeling of the cup in my hand, not sure why I did that. Guess old habits do die hard," Bucky explains, "Anyways, get to the explaining."

"I... I don't know, Buck. I messed up, bad."

"We already know that, care to elaborate?" Bucky prodded.

"It wasn't up to me, Buck," Steve sighs, speaking again when he sees Bucky's confused look, "Remember that Hydra mission you were just talking about?"

taglist! @vicmc624 @tooruen @athenabarnes @blackhawkfanatic

to be added to or removed from the tag list for this series, leave a comment or message me :) submissions and asks are now also open

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oh-my-damn · 2 years

Text

Ethereal

A/N: I couldn't stop thinking about living next to puppy Steve and not knowing he's cap. So here's a mini-series!

Series Masterlist

Part 2

Pairing: TWS!Steve Rogers x Neighbor!Reader

Summary: When you move into your new apartment the last thing you'd expected was the greek god living next door to you.

Warnings: Steve is a literal golden retriever, riding on a motorcycle, mutual pining (a lot), reader doesn't know Steve is Cap, alcohol consumption, being awkward, first date vibes, Steve is a cutie.

Word Count: 5300

The beautiful divider is by @firefly-graphics

When you found a cheap apartment in an old but well-kept building in Brooklyn Heights, you were relieved.

You'd been searching for a new place to live for a while, after you found out the building you'd been living in was going co-op.

You had no means to pay for that old apartment, and even if you did, you wouldn't have wanted to. It was run down, new problems seemingly appearing every day, and there was no way you would have tied yourself to that place for good.

So when you found your new apartment you were excited; the building was old, but clearly well taken care of, and it was in a safe neighborhood. You lived in Williamsburg before, so you had no problem with staying in Brooklyn. In fact, you preferred it.

It took you about an hour to get to university, but you didn't mind the travel time. You would always spend that time studying, catching up on whatever you were missing, or getting ahead of next weeks readings.

You'd also always loved riding on the train; it could be hot, and cramped, and uncomfortable, but it also provided you with a sort of peace. You enjoyed people watching, or gazing out the window with your headphones on. Riding on the train provided a forced tranquility, because you knew, no matter what, you had to spend an hour or so on there. And so it forced you to disconnect with the outside world and in turn, connect with yourself. Even if it was just for a little while.

The day you moved into your new apartment you remember a feeling of curiosity. You remember lugging your boxes up to the top floor and down the hall, unlocking your front door as your gaze moved to the door further down the hall.

Your neighbor lived at the end of the hallway, while you lived to the right. You didn't know anything about who occupied the space; the only thing you knew was that someone lived there, by the doormat placed on the floor.

The apartment didn't have a specific name attached to its mailbox, only initials, and that was both intriguing and unsettling.

S. G. R.

You've met many people in your life who value their privacy, but not even providing a name on their own mailbox seemed excessive to you. Your first thought was how much of a hassle it must be to have packages delivered - you know for a fact that your online shopping habit would severely suffer if your name wasn't properly visible on your mailbox.

You moved in with no issues, other than a bit of sweat and a few groans of exhaustion.

Within a month, you'd gotten used to living there; it was almost like you'd lived there your entire life. You'd always leave early in the morning to get to class, and you'd often arrive home after dinner time, choosing to stay on campus to study, or go out with your friends.

All in all, it was a normal apartment, and it allowed you to live a completely ordinary life.

Until that fateful day back in March.

You arrive home earlier than usual. The entire day has been a disaster; first you missed your train, resulting in you being late for class, and then you spilled your coffee down the front of your shirt as you were walking across campus. When class was over, you'd talked yourself into staying and catch up on your reading, only to realize you'd forgotten the book for the course you needed to catch up on.

With a heavy sigh, and even heavier footsteps, you trudge up the stairs to your apartment. You're cursing yourself for forgetting your book, because you know that once you're inside, your urges will get the best of you, and you'll probably end up watching TV instead of catching up on your studies.

You release another heavy sigh when you reach your floor, turning the corner in the direction of your front door. Your eyes are locked on your feet as they carry you along, your bones tired and exhausted from this utter disappointment of a day.

But then your ears perk up when you hear the familiar sound of a key sliding into a lock.

Your eyes flit up to look ahead of you, breath almost hitching when they land on a tall blonde man, his broad back hunched over slightly as he unlocks his door.

Your feet still, making you stop just a few steps from your front door. The change in movement makes the stranger ahead of you glance over his shoulder, his brows furrowing for a moment before he turns around to face you.

"Hi," he says, grazing you with a dazzling smile, "You must be my new neighbor."

His voice is deep yet gentle, matching the hypnotizing features on his face. A strong jaw, chiseled cheekbones, matched with a pair of bright blue eyes and pink, plump lips.

He's fucking ethereal.

You can practically feel your heart hammering against your ribcage as you take in his full form, eyes gazing over his 6'2 frame. Broad shoulders to match his back, curving into a narrow waist, and legs that go on for days. His short, blonde hair is a little mussed up, his eyebrows raised in a question.

He's wearing a navy blue jacket, which matches his jeans, and a white t-shirt underneath. Entirely ordinary yet painfully breathtaking.

You're not sure you've ever seen a specimen quite like him.

When he tilts his head ever so slightly, you snap out of the daze he brought you in.

"Yeah, uh, hi. I guess I am. I just moved in."

You gesture towards your front door, and the stranger nods in acknowledgement.

"I heard some ruckus," he chuckles, bright white teeth practically blinding you, "I'm sorry I didn't come around to introduce myself earlier, I've been a little preoccupied with work."

You wave a dismissive hand as you smile, "Oh, no worries. I know how it is. But I'm glad we finally met, I was starting to wonder who lived next door."

"Yeah?" He asks with a grin, "Why?"

"Because I've never seen anyone," you chuckle, "I was starting to suspect it was an investment property or something. Figured no one lived there."

The stranger laughs, the sound a bubbling melodic tune that makes your heart beat excitedly. It's a beautiful, genuine sound, that makes you feel special in a way you can't quite explain.

"Oh, I live here, don't you worry," he replies, his smile turning softer, "I've been away for a little while, but I'm back now. I did hear you move in, though, but I had to leave for work early the next day, so I didn't have time to come by and welcome you to the building."

You nod, "Okay, I see. What do you do for work?"

His brows furrow momentarily before he shrugs, "You know, I work jobs here and there. I travel a lot, though."

"You're an easy neighbor to have, then," you joke, tilting your head, "I guess I won't have to worry about you making a noise complaint."

He laughs again, the sound is practically addicting to your ears, "No, you won't have to worry about that, I promise. I usually keep to myself."

You nod and hum, holding eye contact for a moment longer before your eyes dart to your front door, "Good to know.. Well, it was really nice to meet you, uhh..?"

He smiles, hesitating for a moment before he says, "Steve. Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you too."

Two days later, you're out for drinks with your friends, excitedly telling them about the greek god living next door to you.

"I swear to god, he's fucking ethereal. Like, insane. I can't even explain it."

You take another large sip of your drink as your friends giggle.

"You have to show me a picture!" Janine says excitedly, eyes wide as she looks at you, "Come on, show us his social media!"

"That's the thing!" You exclaim, placing your drink perhaps a bit too harshly back on the table, "I tried to look him up but I couldn't find any social media accounts for him. It was so frustrating because apparently he shares a name with one of those Avenger guys, so it was practically impossible."

You take another eager sip as your friend, Melanie, narrows her eyes at you, "What do you mean he shares a name with one of the Avengers? Who?"

You wave your hand dismissively, "I don't fucking know those guys, you know that, but when I googled his name all of these articles for those guys showed up so I couldn't find anything on him. I didn't feel like sifting through all of that."

Your friends share a knowing look before Melanie leans closer to you on the table, "What did you say his name was?"

"Steve," you chirp, sipping your drink through the straw happily, "Steve Rogers."

Your friends share another look, although this one seems more shocked than before, making you look between the two of them.

"What?" You ask, watching their expressions, "What's the matter?"

"Nothing!" Janine immediately interjects, glancing quickly at Melanie before she looks back at you, "It's nothing. But that sucks, you gotta take a sneaky picture next time you're able to."

You snort, "Okay, I'll try, but I haven't seen him since we met the other day. He gets really busy with work, apparently."

"I'm sure he does..." Melanie replies, taking another sip of her drink.

After one too many cocktails, you called an uber to get back home. You're trying to stay focused as you walk up the stairs to your apartment, swaying ever so slightly with every step.

"Almost there," you mumble as you reach the final step, "God I'm tired.."

You round the corner and head towards your door, pulling your keys out of your bag.

Right as you find the right one, and struggle to slide it into the lock, your neighbors' door opens.

"Hey," a deep voice says, making you glance in its direction, "You okay?"

Your eyes find a pair of beautiful cerulean ones, your cheeks growing warm at his presence.

"Yeah," you drunkenly giggle, moving your attention back to your key as you try to slide it into the lock, "I'm fine, just need to figure out how to unlock the door.."

You hear a quiet chuckle and then approaching footsteps before Steve is standing right beside you, a large hand reaching out to cover your own.

"Here, let me help you."

He easily unlocks your door, handing the keys back to you with a smile.

"Thank you," you hiccup, smiling goofily up at him, "You didn't have to, I could have figured it out myself.. Eventually.."

"Yeah," he chuckles, smiling down at you, "But then you'd probably have spent half your night out here."

You giggle again, shaking your head, "Noooo, I would have figured it out."

"Mhmm," Steve hums, placing a strong hand on the small of your back when you stumble where you stand, "Sure. You need help getting inside?"

"No no," you immediately respond, frowning up at him seriously, "I'm a big girl, I can handle myself."

"Okay, big girl," Steve chuckles as you step over the threshold, "Just make sure to drink some water, okay? And maybe some painkillers, too."

"Will do," you grin, gripping the door handle to keep you steady, "Thank you, Steve."

"Anytime."

3 days later you're walking home from school when you notice a motorcycle parked in front of your building. You look it over for a minute, impressed by how well kept it is despite it being an older model. You don't know a lot about motorcycles, but you know enough to realize it's a Harley-Davidson and that the design is a classic.

Your dad taught you what little knowledge you possess on motorcycles since he owned a Harley himself back when you were a kid.

You hesitantly let your fingers graze over the cushioned leather seat, the material soft against your fingertips.

"This is nice," you mumble to yourself absentmindedly, brows furrowing momentarily. It's clean, practically shiny, which makes you wonder where it's usually parked. Whoever owns it must have a covered parking space for it.

Just as your fingers lift from the leather cushion, the building door opens. Your eyes flit up to the figure walking down the steps to your building, heading in your direction, and you feel a flurry of butterflies when you recognize the man approaching you.

He's wearing a brown leather jacket this time, with a grey t-shirt underneath, a pair of blue jeans to finish off the look.

You can practically see the outline of his undoubtedly defined abs through the tight t-shirt and the thought alone makes your cheeks heat up.

"Hi Steve," you say with a smile as he walks in your direction.

His face splits into a wide smile, shoving his hands into his pockets once he descends the steps and walks over to where you're standing by the bike, "Hey neighbor. Nice to see you again. How's your head?"

Haven't had any complaints so far...

You chuckle, resisting the urge to make the dirty joke that popped into your mind, a small shake of your head as you speak, "That was 3 days ago. Hangover is long gone. But thank you for helping me inside, that was nice of you."

"Of course," he beams, a bashful shrug of his shoulders, "It was nothing. What else are neighbors for, right?"

"Right," you nod, smiling shyly when your eyes flit down to the motorcycle in an effort to hide your flushing cheeks.

"You like it?" Steve asks when he notices your gaze trailing over the bike, "Just pulled it out of storage today. Figured it was time to take it for a ride, now that the weather is getting warmer."

Your eyes dart up to meet his, brows raised in surprise, "This is yours?"

"Yeah," Steve replies, patting the leather seat as if it was a horse, "I used to have a different one but I like this newer model, too. Drives like a dream."

"Of course it does," you snort, fingers lightly touching the sleek silver on the side, "It's a Soft Slim, they're spectacular. Harley does good work in general, but they certainly stepped their game up with this model."

Steve quirks a brow at you, his eyes slowly moving over your face as you continue looking at his bike, "You know motorcycles?"

You shrug, "A little bit. My dad is a Harley-Davidson enthusiast, so I know some. Not a lot, though. But I know this model. She's a beaut."

"Yeah, she is," Steve chuckles, his head tilting slightly as he looks at you, "I was just about to go for a ride. Care to join me?"

The brisk spring air breezing through your hair send shivers down your spine as you race down the almost deserted highway. Steve takes an exit, heading towards New Jersey, and you cling to him as your arms are wrapped around his waist.

He's in complete control of the bike in a way that seems almost effortless; it moves with him in every turn, and even at high speeds, you sense no hesitation in him.

It almost feels like flying.

Your arms tighten their hold a little more when the cold air nips at the bare skin on your neck, instinctively burrowing your face into his back.

He tilts his head slightly, and lifts his shoulder, seemingly inviting you to tuck your face into the crook of his neck.

You only hesitate for a moment before you bury your face in his neck, pressing your chest to his back, his warm skin heating you up almost instantly. He tilts his head more to give you proper space, leaning his back into your chest.

Your arms tighten in response, a small smile grazing your lips as you breathe in deeply. His clean and fresh scent envelopes you, making the shivers running down your back happen for a very different reason than before.

Your thighs tighten where they are on the outer side of his, holding onto him more firmly, and by all accounts, it appears he's enjoying it.

He speeds up experimentally, making you let out a small squeak before you hold onto him even tighter, and you swear you hear the melodic sound of his laugh before it's swallowed up by the wind.

Eventually Steve brings you back home, the city of Brooklyn enveloped in darkness, the lampposts on the side of the road the only thing lighting your way.

He drives into a spot in front of the building and you reluctantly unwrap your arms from his waist, sliding off the bike.

He parks the bike and gets off, standing in front of you with a soft smile on his lips. His cheeks are the faintest shade of pink, probably from the cold, and his hair is mussed up in a cute way that makes you yearn to run your fingers through it.

You smile up at him, another small shiver running down your spine, and Steve immediately notices. He shrugs his jacket off, placing it over your shoulders, "I'm sorry, I should have figured you'd get cold. I hope it wasn't too bad?"

He has no idea you've been shivering this entire time, or that your shivers are triggered by something other than the cold.

"It's okay," you respond with a warm smile, "I wasn't cold while you were driving, you're surprisingly hot."

Steve's lips lift into a goofy grin, making you immediately backtrack, "Oh my god, uh, I mean warm. You're surprisingly warm."

"I got it, don't worry," he chuckles, placing a protective hand on the small of your back before he starts guiding you in the direction of your building, "Let me walk you up."

You chuckle, walking beside him up the steps, "I don't think it counts as walking me up when you're going the same direction yourself."

He snorts and shakes his head, "Probably not. But I would have done it if I didn't live here, too."

"Such a gentleman," you muse, your fingers gripping the hem of his jacket. It smells like him, that clean, fresh scent, and you'd want to drown in that smell if you could.

"I try," he jokes, grinning at you quickly.

You reach your apartment door, and once you're standing in front of it, you slide his jacket off your shoulders, "Thank you for lending this to me. That was nice."

"Even if it was short lived," Steve responds as he takes his jacket from you, "I'm sorry I didn't give it to you before we left on the drive."

"Steve, don't worry about it," you reply earnestly, "I promise, I wasn't cold. Not until I had to unwrap myself from you, at least."

Steve's eyes lock on yours, a tension filling the small space between the two of you as you look up at him. His smile is soft, gentle, a quiet hum leaving his lips as he nods.

"I'm sorry you had to do that, then."

"It's alright," you grin teasingly, "Maybe I'll get to do it again some time."

"I would love that," Steve immediately responds, a wide smile breaking out on his lips, "For there to be a next time, I mean. Doesn't have to be a drive, either."

"No?" You tease, your head tilting as your eyes stay locked on his, "What did you have in mind?"

"A cup of coffee?" He asks, blue eyes shining in the dimly lit hallway.

"I like coffee," you smile, nodding, "I'd love to."

"It's a date," he firmly replies, his fingers fiddling with the keys in his hand, "Maybe in the next few days?"

"Sure!" You beam up at him, immediately reaching into your bag, "Let me give you my number, that might make it easier to plan."

"Oh, uh, yeah, okay," Steve responds, hands clasping over his pockets almost as if he's unsure where his phone is.

When he brings out a flip phone, you snort. "That's your phone?"

Steve's cheeks tinge pink, this time certainly not from the cold, a small nod of his head, "Yeah, I uh.. I'm not really good with technology. Needed something easy."

You chuckle, "Okay, fair enough."

You take his phone, putting your number in and sending yourself a text. "There. Now we have each others numbers. Just text me when you have time to grab that cup of coffee."

"Will do," Steve responds, lingering for a moment as he stands in front of you.

When he suddenly leans down and places a quick kiss on your cheek, your breath hitches, and you fight the urge to pull him closer.

"I had a great time," he says as he takes a few steps backwards, in the direction of his apartment, "Have a good night."

"Goodnight, Steve."

A few days pass without you running into Steve in the hallway again. It's also been very quiet, you haven't heard a peep from your neighbor, which is surprising because the walls aren't that thick. You can always hear your downstairs neighbor, especially if they're listening to music or have people over, so you're surprised you never hear anything from Steve.

No movement, no accidental run ins, no noises. Nothing. Only silence.

It makes you wonder if he's even home.

A week after your bike ride, you finally hear from him.

You're sitting on your couch, watching one of your favorite shows on TV while binging a tub of ice cream. It's Saturday night, and you weren't in the mood to go out even though your friends tried to convince you. It'd been a long week at university and the only thing you were in the mood for this weekend was to stay at home in your sweats and watch silly sitcoms to get your mind to relax.

You phone chimes just after 8pm, alerting you to a text message.

You pick up your phone while licking your spoonful of ice cream clean, your eyes flicking from the TV to your phone screen. Your brows raise in surprise when you see who it's from, a snort leaving your lips.

Steve Rogers: How's your Saturday night?

You: Oh hello there, stranger. I was starting to think perhaps you'd moved

Steve Rogers: I'm sorry, I had a work emergency I had to take care of. I've been gone for the past few days, just got back. How has your week been?

Your brows furrow at his response. What does this guy do for work?

The last time you asked, his response was pretty vague, but he obviously does something that's important enough for him to leave without notice. Often.

You: It's been alright, nothing exciting to report. Mainly just studying and classes. How's yours been?

Steve Rogers: A little rough. Had to deal with a tough project at work, but it's over now, luckily. At home licking my wounds now

You: Wounds? Literal or metaphorical?

Steve Rogers: Little of both

You blink in surprise, putting down your ice cream to be able to text quicker.

You: What? Are you hurt?

Steve Rogers: I'll be okay, I'm just tired. I'm sorry I didn't follow up on our coffee date, though. I hope you didn't lose faith in me

You: Was just about to, but then you texted, so I'll give you another chance

Steve Rogers: Yeah? When do you have time?

Steve Rogers: Are you busy right now?

Your brows raise in surprise at the double text as well as the question.

You: It's a little late for coffee, don't you think?

Steve Rogers: How about tea, then?

You manage to tidy yourself up a little bit, tossing on a tank-top instead of the oversized shirt you were wearing when there's a knock on your door.

You're still in your sweats from earlier, but you don't really mind that; he messaged you with very short notice, so he couldn't exactly be expecting you to look all dressed up.

You unlock your door before opening it, grinning up at Steve when he comes into view, "Hey there."

"Hi," Steve smiles, his hands shoved into his pockets, "Nice to see you again."

You let your eyes trail over his form; he's in a white t-shirt, one that's tight and allows you to see the firm outline of his torso (you suspect tight t-shirts are his signature, by now), and you apparently guessed right on keeping your sweats on, because he's in a pair of his own. A grey pair, to be exact.

Your eyes move up to take in the features of his face, lingering on his beautiful, baby blue eyes and pink plump lips. But then your brows instantly furrow when you notice the small mark on his cheekbone.

"Oh," you breathe out, instinctively stepping closer, and before you can even stop yourself, you reach up, letting your fingers gently touch the skin right below the mark, "Are you okay?"

You can tell Steve tenses at your touch, making you immediately remove your hand before you step back again, mumbling, "Uh, sorry, I shouldn't-"

"No, it's alright," Steve interrupts, putting up a hand to stop you, "Don't worry, I was just caught off guard. It hurts a little, but it'll go away soon. Promise."

"Okay," you reply with a small nod, smiling softly as your eyes meet his. Then you step aside, gesturing to your apartment, "Well, come on in."

Steve smiles as he walks inside, continuing further as you close the door behind him. He wanders into the open kitchen, eyes moving over the space and to the living room area.

"This is nice," he hums, placing his hands in his pockets, "I like what you did with the place."

You chuckle, "Thanks. I only buy the finest Ikea furniture."

Steve lets out a melodic laugh, following your movement when you walk into the kitchen. You reach up to pull open the cupboard as you ask, "So, what kind of tea do you like?"

You don't hear a response immediately, but you almost jump in surprise when you suddenly hear his voice from right behind you, "What kinds do you have?"

You glance over your shoulder, eyes locking with the blonde man towering over you. You smirk, "Well, you tell me. Seems like you can see better than I can."

Steve snorts, stepping closer before his attention is pulled to the inside of the cupboard. He reaches up, his chest brushing against your back when he grabs for a packet and places it on the counter in front of you, "I like this one."

You release a quiet, unsteady breath when you feel the warmth of him pressing against your back, your fingers reaching for the packet of tea.

"Black tea," you hum, picking two tea bags out of the box, "Good choice."

You slide a little to the side, reaching for two mugs in a different cupboard, still nervously aware of his close presence.

"I'm glad you think so," Steve hums, following your movement. He stands behind you again, taking the mugs for you when you stand up on your tip toes to reach them, "Did you know that was the kind of tea the British soldiers drank during World War II?"

Your brows raise in surprise, looking up at him over your shoulder, "No, I didn't. That's pretty cool."

Steve grins, nodding as he places the two mugs on the counter, "Yeah, uh, actually the British government bought out practically all the tea in Europe in order to be able to give them to the soldiers on the frontlines."

"Wow," you respond, your brows furrowing, "That's actually crazy. How could they even do that?"

You walk over to the kettle, filling it with water so you can boil it, while Steve moves to lean on your kitchen counter. He shrugs, "Guess they just decided it was worth it, to keep morale up."

"Hm," you hum, turning on the kettle before you turn to him, "That was really nice of them. I didn't think the government cared much about their soldiers, to be honest. All you ever hear about are the glory while they're away, and then those horror stories when they come back and have PTSD."

Steve's face falls a little, his hands going back into his pockets as he nods slowly, "Yeah, I guess you're right. Perhaps the British government cared more about their soldiers then they do here.."

"Yeah," you mumble, your fingers reaching for the packet to fiddle with it, "My brother was actually in the army.."

"He was?" Steve asks curiously, "For how long?"

"A long time," you sigh, "Too long. He wasn't the same when he came back home.."

"That happens," Steve replies quietly, "A lot, unfortunately."

You glance over at him, watching how his eyes are trained on the floor. You tilt your head, asking hesitantly, "Is that something you know a lot about? The army?"

"Kinda," he shrugs, offering you a small smile when he looks back up at you, "I was also in the army. I still kind of am, I guess.." He cringes a little, making you turn to directly face him.

You take a small step closer, slowly lifting your hand until your fingers are almost brushing his cheek as you hold eye contact, "Is that how you got this?"

Steve's lips part in a nervous breath when you lean closer, his hands bracing the edge of the counter as he leans on it. His baby blues hold yours, dipping his head ever so slightly until your fingertips trail over his skin.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"But you're not shipped out?" You inquire, your fingers trailing down his cheek to his jaw, "You live here, and you don't go away for months at a time."

"I'm a.. different kind of soldier," he whispers, his face slowly leaning closer to yours, "But I used to be in the army."

"So, you got promoted?" You tease, your voice low. Your fingers trail down his jaw, to the column of his neck, Steve's breath hitching when the delicate touch tickles his skin.

"You could say that," he smiles softly, his eyes burning into yours intensely as he continues slowly leaning closer, "The job isn't very different, though. But I get to go home more often."

You hum, nodding slowly as your fingers curl around his neck hesitantly. You break eye contact for a moment, eyes dropping to his lips, your stomach doing a flip when his tongue darts out to lick them.

Your eyes raise up to meet his again, the hand curled around the back of his neck slowly pulling him closer until you can feel your breaths mixing.

You look up at him with wide eyes, your nerves on edge, and it's almost like your mind goes blank when he whispers, "Can I kiss you?"

You nod immediately, there's no way in hell you'd ever say no.

Steve's eyes drop to your lips, inching himself closer until they softly brush over yours, and then you let out a content sigh when he presses them firmly against your own. You pull him closer by the hand curled around his neck, one large hand landing on your waist to pull you into his chest.

Your other hand slides up his chest to his shoulder, gripping it as your lips glide over his in perfect synchronization.

You lose yourself in the softness of his lips, your unsteady breaths mixing, and you're only faintly aware when you hear the water boiling in the background.

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lives-in-midgard · 8 months

Text

"Even when the night changes"

"It will never change me and you"

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avengerscompound · 2 months

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Chris Evans as Steve Rogers Captain America: The Winter Soldier

#marvel #avengers #marveledit #mcuedit #steverogersedit #captainamericaedit #steve rogers #captain america #chris evans #cevans #captain america: the winter solider #ca:tws #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #199999 #marvel movies #film #avengerscompoundedit

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sebbystanfann · 1 month

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New/old photos of Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes in Captain America the Winter Soldier

📸 https://m.weibo.cn/status/4999625786262661

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #winter solider #sebby stan #captain america #marvel mcu

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mishacollins · 9 months

Video

This is why we are striking…

Clearly, major studios are already deploying AI to copy my likeness to make otherwise ho-hum scenes pop off the screen. Can you believe they paid me not a dime for this? (That, or this background actor went in to a plastic surgeon and said, “I don’t care what it costs… Make me look like Misha Collins.”)

#Misha Collins #MCU #Marvel #Winter Solider #Captain America #Dopplegangers #AI #SAGAFTRAStrong #SAGAFTRA #STRIKE

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themultitaskingposer · 1 month

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Marvel reacting to you staring at them.

Tony: what? You need money?

Steve: *smiles* can I help you?

Natasha: *staring contest, she won*

Loki: *smirk* like what you see?

Thor: *confused* what?

Wanda: *head tilt with sweet smile*

Peter P: hey, what—Whats up?

Yelena: *offers her macaroon* you want?

Kate: it there something on my face?

Bruce: *smiles and gets back to work*

Bucky: *leans closer and stares intently*

Clint: *confuse, looks behind then back at you*

Pietro: *snaps his finger*

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buckyb4rne3 · 2 years

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not my best, not my worst.

enjoy :)

as always, pls don’t steal

#marvel #the avengers #marvel edit #bucky barnes #bucky edit #mcufam #mcuedit #captain america the winter solider #the winter soldier #white wolf #james barnes #captain America #edit #sebastian stan edit

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chrispy156 · 11 months

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The boys!!!! Finally finished lol

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leyaskwlkr · 10 months

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Just gonna leave that there ...

Edit:

credit goes out to the artist @adayka 😍

#bucky barnes #winter solider fan art #sergeant barnes #white wolf #sebastian stan #avengers #captain america #thomas gibson

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sunvmars · 8 months

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tart | s.r. [3]

pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader

↞ previous | next ↠

word count: 2.4k

warnings: very, very brief smut mention !

summary: steve confesses, bucky offers his help

a/n: another short but fast moving chapter for now, the next few will be much longer and explain/fill any plot holes or missing pieces :) I hardly proof read this so be warned

Bucky's eyebrow cocks up in confusion as he recalls the mission, "Yeah, what about it?"

Steve takes another deep breath, preparing himself to release the secret he's been keeping, "I found something during that mission."

Bucky narrows his eyes, his curiosity piqued as he leans forward. "Okay, spill it."

Steve leans forward too and rests his elbows on his knees. He knew that saying something was a risk, but keeping it a secret under the new circumstances was riskier. Steve's gaze fixates on the floor as he speaks.

"During that mission, when I was extracting the files we needed, I stumbled upon some classified files. They had information about a hidden experiment conducted years ago called 'Genesis,'" he explains.

Bucky leans forward, his curiosity getting the best of him, "What's that got to do with all of this?"

"It's got everything to do with it," Steve replies, "Genesis was made to create super soldiers and people with enhanced mental abilities like telekinesis, telepathy, everything in between. Their ultimate goal was to fuse DNA from both groups to create a new 'breed' of enhanced individuals."

"Steve, are you saying y/n is connected to this?"

"More than just connected, Buck," Steve admits. "Her father was one of their strongest super soldiers and her mother was an agent. Her mother was also the only successful recipient of the mental ability serum they curated. From what I read, her parents had a secret relationship. They disappeared when her mother became pregnant; likely to save her from whatever fate Hydra had for her."

A sigh leaves Steve's lips before he continues, "Essentially, y/n is the only living evidence that they existed- that this experiment existed."

Steve feels nothing short of horrible and shitty for keeping this from you. He wishes he hadn't done it, but now it was too late to take it back. All he could do now was fix it. And he will fix it.

Bucky's eyes widen as he starts to connect the pieces together. "Let me make sure I'm getting this right here... You're saying she's the only child of a super-soldier and a Hydra agent with mind blowing abilities, both of whom nobody has any knowledge of? And now she's carrying a baby who's a cesspool of these abilities?"

"Yes, but that's not all of it. I hired people to do some digging after that mission. Turns out that the man who conducted those experiments, the one who created her father, he's been searching for her parents ever since. I've had people looking for him, but he's been evading police for years too, changing locations frequently."

Bucky leans back and rubs a hand over his face. "And you think he's aware of her existence?"

"At first, I don't think he did. She had hardly any social media presence, she was homeschooled, her birthname had no relation to her parents. But now I know he knows she's alive. I got a pretty straightforward letter from him two days ago, and I'm not even sure how he found out she was with me. Figured that means he also knows that we've been following him."

"How do you know it was him? What did it say?"

"I know it was him because all it said was, 'I know who she is.'"

"Well, that's definitely straightforward," Bucky huffs, his heart feeling heavy with worry, "Is that why you told her you didn't want the baby?"

"I...I want her and that baby more than anything, but I can't put them in danger. He'll come for me first to get to her. He's probably been trying to find her for years. I'm afraid he's going to start taking more drastic measures if we don't find him soon."

Bucky tries to take in all the information thrown at him, but only finds himself able to focus on the part about you being in danger. "What does he know about her?"

"I don't know, and that's what scares me. I thought that if I got her away from me then he wouldn't have suspected she was ever here, but I guess I was wrong," Steve admits, guilt laced in his tone, "He wants her, Buck, and now he's gonna want our baby too."

"We'll figure something out, Steve. Don't worry." Bucky raises his eyebrows, still confused at what Steve's plan was. "How does her being alone protect her? What if he's already figured out where she is?"

"I wouldn't call it alone, she's just not with me. She's safe at the tower and I've been pulling strings to protect her."

"What kind of strings, Steve? Please don't tell me you've done something stupid."

"Haven't had to yet, just small stuff."

"Like?" Bucky urges, not taking the vague response.

"I stopped assigning her to missions. When I had to throw off suspicion, I made sure she would be with you or Tony. I've got people I trust watching over her when she leaves home alone too."

"That's a little creepy, Steve." Bucky chuckles briefly, shaking his head.

"I was doing everything possible to keep her from leaving a trace that he can pick up on. That's why she's not here and I'm in her chair, drinking this disgusting cocktail in this empty, lonely apartment."

The two of them sit in silence temporarily before Steve speaks again. "I even took down all our pictures and got rid of any trace of her in case he ever suspected me, just couldn't find it in myself to take those two pictures down," he says as he points at the only two remaining frames on the wall.

Bucky's eyes follow where he points and he finds himself smiling at the pictures. Steve smiles too, but because it's all he's got left of you at the moment even though everything in the house had you intertwined with it. Regret fills the holes in his heart and his eyes linger on the pictures for a little too long.

The photo taken at the beach with all three of you? You were in his favorite bikini and, unbeknownst to anyone else, he later fucked you in it in the kitchen while everyone else was outside swimming. Your first date photo? Well, that one's self explanatory. It was sentimental and he wasn't sure he'd ever take that one down, even if you decided you hated him forever.

"But I guess it was all this pain for nothing, huh?" Steve says, smiling weakly.

"You did what you could, just wish you would've came to me. You know I'm here for you and her."

Steve doesn't find it in himself to respond. Bucky was right, he shouldn't of tried to handle this by himself. Guilt pools in his stomach threatening to make him nauseous.

"Were you ever gonna tell her? She should know, Steve, this is her past we're talking about here. If she knows then she'll be prepared for whatever comes our way."

Steve taps his foot, his nerves slowly overwhelming him. "That's the woman I know and love, Bucky, and I know she'll go digging for answers. I can't let her get hurt, especially not now," he says.

Bucky knows there's some truth to this because he knows you almost as well as Steve does- you're relentless when something's important to you. However, he also knows that you deserve the truth- that's part of the whole reason he came to talk to Steve in the first place.

"You need to tell her," Bucky responds, his tone almost demanding. "I've been watching her hurt for the last few months over something that isn't even her fault."

"I know, and I'm gonna tell her..."

"It sounds like there's a 'but' coming after that, and I really don't wanna hear-"

"But I'm going to find him first."

For a moment he thinks to himself 'he can't be serious, can he?' Then he looks at his friend who has determination written all over his face. He sees a glimpse of that scrawny, nervous kid Steve used to be for a second, and that's what worries him; that's how he knows he won't stop until he finds this guy.

"I'll do whatever it takes to keep them safe. I'll take down all of Hydra if I have to, I'm not letting them get close to her."

"You don't even know where this guy is, Steve. As your best friend, I can't let you take a chance on getting hurt when you do find him. No matter how shitty you've been, she still loves you a lot. She needs you, and so will that baby."

"Buck, this is something I have to do-"

"Then I'll do it for you," Bucky interrupts, the words leaving his mouth before he gets the chance to second guess them. "Give me what you have on him and I'll handle it."

Steve is dumbfounded. He's got the same 'he can't be serious' look that Bucky had mere seconds ago.

"Absolutely not. With your history with them, that's not a risk I can let you take."

Bucky smiles sympathetically. "But I don't have a family like you will. Don't get me wrong, you and y/n are my family, but you've got a baby on the way, punk. I've got nothing to lose here, it's not up for debate."

Steve frowns at this. He looks torn, his emotions at war within him. On one hand, he wants to protect you and his baby at all costs. On the other hand, he can't bear to lose his best friend again.

"Bucky, you're like a brother to me; I don't think I can put you in harm's way and ask you to do this," Steve says, his voice filled with desperation, "But I can't risk y/n and the baby's safety either."

Bucky's expression softens as he places a reassuring hand on Steve's shoulder. "You're gonna be a father soon, Rogers. You need to be there for them. Just let me handle this, they can't get to me anymore. I've got more ties to Hydra than anyone, I can probably pull some strings of my own."

Steve sighs upon realizing that Bucky's decision is unshakable. "You promise me you'll be careful. You'll keep me updated on everything and if anything seems off, I want you to retreat immediately."

He laughs before saying, "You're gonna be a damn good dad, you know?"

Steve narrows his eyes at him. "I'm serious, Buck."

"Alright, alright. I promise, and I'll keep you updated, okay?" Bucky agrees, throwing his hands up in the air to show his compliance.

Steve then reaches for his phone and begins to compile all the information he's gathered about Zepher Hawthorne. He anonymously sends the files to Bucky who immediately starts to study them closely. Bucky glances up to give Steve a reassuring smile.

"I'll be as careful as they come, Steve. Don't worry about me."

With their roles now clearly defined, they continue to discuss their plan in detail. They agree on secure communication channels, establish a backup line for communication, and set up a timeline for Bucky's investigation into Hawthorne. It's a risky endeavor, and they know that, but they're both determined to protect you and the unborn child.

As Bucky prepares to leave, Steve can't help but feel a renewed sense of hope that he'd lost when you told him about the baby. He knows he has a difficult conversation ahead with you, but he's also more motivated than ever to show you his dedication to protecting your little family.

Right as Bucky's about to leave, he turns around to look at Steve. "I'll put it some vacation days and let you know once I have a lead; in the meantime, go talk to her. If you don't wanna tell her the full story until I find him, then you at least need to tell her that you want her and the baby. Sound good?"

"Works for me," Steve chuckles lightly before giving Bucky a tight hug. "See you around?"

"I always come back," Bucky jokes as the door shuts behind him.

With that, Bucky leaves to prepare. Steve, however, takes a deep breath and picks up his keys. He knows it's time to open up to you about everything that's been hidden for far too long. He stands in the empty apartment motionless for a moment, the weight of the impending conversation heavy on him. It's not that he doesn't want you to know, but he doesn't want you to worry. After taking a deep breath he leaves the apartment and locks the door behind him.

As he heads towards the apartment elevator, his mind races with thoughts of how to approach you. He knows this won't be easy, and he's prepared to take all your anger and confusion because he knows he deserves it. Yet he's also determined to help you understand that at first he did everything he did to keep you safe; now he's doing what he has to in order to keep his family safe.

You're in the Avengers Tower sleeping comfortably your warm bed. You're peacefully unaware of the bombshell revelation that has just been dropped, but it won't stay that way for much longer. As Steve walks through the hallways he finally reaches your room.

He hesitates briefly before knocking gently on the door. It's quiet in your room so he waits for a moment, but then...nothing. His worry grows and horrible thoughts swarm in his brain. He knocks again, a bit more urgently this time.

On the other side of the door, you slowly begin to stir. The knocking finally registers in your drowsy mind, and you groggily call out, "Who is it?"

"It's Steve," he answers, his voice riddled with worry.

His voice has you awake instantly, but your heart races at the seriousness in his tone. You slide out of bed and hurriedly make your way to the door. Your fingers fumble with the lock at first but you find it within seconds. The door opens to reveal Steve standing there, his expression tense.

"Steve?" you ask, worry etching into your features as you take in the look on his face, "Why are you here? Are you okay?"

He steps into your room and turns on the dim light before closing the door behind him. He sighs deeply, rubbing his hands together.

"We need to talk," he insists. "There's something I should've told you a long time ago."

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@terry2227 @imyourbratzdoll @starksbabie @diannana

@flowers-and-fichte @ozwriterchick @kandis-mom @nouk1998

think I managed to add everyone, but if I forgot your tag, or you want to be added to or removed from the tag list for this series, leave a comment or message me :)

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