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frostironfudge · 1 year

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I Need You To Listen - Steve Rogers

Summary: For @the-slumberparty 's Week 3 Something New Challenge, I went with the medium mode - sex pollen but with exes to lovers. This took alot of work I ended up rewriting it entirely, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 7.4k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Pairing: Nomad!Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, angst, smut, fluff, sex pollen, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, love bites, steve rogers dirty talking (this man), swearing, nipple play, past is in italics, sort of a post civil war rewrite so we're going completely off canon

Main Masterlist || AO3

Fate works in the most hilarious of ways, a stubbed toe over here and a broken heart still being nursed over there.

Tony Stark stands in front of your cell, staring at you through the glass. You don’t hold back your tears from him. Disappointment colours his features.

Broken pieces of trust lay scattered on the floor. The damage by him was done. Leaving you to bear the brunt. Leaving you to walk on the jagged edges of the broken family.

A family that shared jokes, laughed, drank and protected each other.

Won together.

Lost together.

In the past few days died together.

“How are you holding up?” His arc reactor gleams as he takes a seat on the stool. Unzipping the jacket he wears his arm in a sling. You close your eyes, more tears fall at the memory of the fight. An involuntary shiver as the chiling bite of the cold manifests itself from your memory.

The cell isn’t uncomfortable. There is a cot in the corner, the bathroom has a door. The sterile scent of the cleaning agent stopped giving you a headache hours ago.

“Why are you asking me?” You look at him, he should be mad, he should yell, call you a traitor.

“Contrary to what you all think and did to me, I trust you.” He shrugs, left eye twitching, he rolls his shoulder.

“How is the arm?” Your gaze falls to it.

“Seen better days. You know, heart troubles.” He looks at Wanda’s cell, “Kid, Vis is asking about you.”

She looks up at him, “Is Rhodes alright?”

Tony presses his lips into a thin line, shaking his head.

Wanda looks down at her hands.

“He tore us apart. That Baron Zemo. I know you have a lot to learn, alot to grieve. The accords may be dissolved. I’m working on it. At SI we’re preparing the bail documents.” He informs you all.

Sam scoffs, “What about Cap and Barnes?”

“James is in recovery as per my last conversation with T’Challa. Where Cap and Nat are I do not know nor does he.” Tony gazes back at you.

“I trusted him.” Is all you can say to him. You stare at your palms, you couldn’t get the blood off.

“I know, I did too.”

“Tony.” Your lips quiver another sob at the heartbreak Steve left you with to deal. All alone.

Bucky fights Tony, you don’t want to see your best friend hurt. The man who took you under his wing when you joined in, your steps halted by the blonde haired man who harbours your heart.

“Sign the accords.” Steve orders, you gape at him.

“Steve, do you fucking realise? We’re here because I didn’t sign them because I am siding with you?” You almost yell. The tempreture drops as the snow cascades into the facility from the now broken windows.

Bucky lands on the floor, a pained groan, his arm blasted off. He kneels, eyes widened at the implication. At the man he hurt irreparablely being the one to take away one of the curses HYDRA bestowed upon him.

“Shit!” Your eyes move to Tony, slowly he rises from the floor. The suit broken in several places.

“Y/N, you need to listen. You cannot go rogue with me.”

“Steve,” You push his arm away you had to intervene.

“It was good while it lasted.” He says and everything turns to static.

“Wh-what?”

“Look, I, we had a good run but I know your stance on the accords you’re just with me for the sole reason we’re together.” Steve says to you.

“Are you serious right now?” Anger courses through you, your grip on your pistol tightens.

“It's not even the accords. I, I didn’t think we would make it beyond this month. Look, I have to think about Bucky. Its all of this, it doesn’t, priorities.” He lunges over to defend Bucky leaving you defenceless. Your ears ringing, you watch as they fight, you can’t hear any of the clangs the groans.

You stand there dumbfounded.

As Steve throws Tony down the beam reflects off of his shield and hits you on the shoulder you’re thrown against the wall. Bucky meets your eyes, at least he seems apologetic.

Tony tries to get up to help you, “Rogers, she’s hurt—,” The shield slams against the arc reactor.

“I don’t care.” He says so easily.

You pant as the pain increases, both the burn and sting of his words as well as the physical injuries manifesting across you.

Steve helps Bucky up, you try to push yourself to your knees, crawling to Tony while keeping your arm close to your body.

Bucky looks back at you, his eyes convey his remorse. Tony breathes hard, you blink back tears at the glance Steve doesn’t spare towards you.

Eight months down the drain.

The morning kisses, cuddles, the random sketches of you he left as gifts all lose their importance. Remembrance only causes pain.

“Mr. Stark, you need to leave.”

Tony sighs, “I’ll visit, or I’ll have you guys out before that. Work some arrangement.”

“I’m so sorry, Tony.” You look at his arm and back at his face.

He gives you one of those sad smiles of his, the one where he pretends it's just another day, another common thing.

“Aren’t you foolish to trust us again?” Sam questions him as Tony passes by his cell.

“I just have to do my job. It’s the people who have to trust us.” Tony turns to face Sam.

“So the people trust the missile maker millionaire Stark?” Sam knows the jab is stinging, Tony hated

that about the company’s past.

The rift was ever present, your friend looks towards you.

“Y/N, let him know not to insult me, I’m a billionaire.” He grabs his glasses and moves away.

You resist the urge to laugh, everyone would resort to their coping mechanisms. You’d have to bide your time here. Usually getting black out drunk was how you solved your own problems.

True to his word Tony has you all released on various conditions. You, Scott and Wanda are released together.

When you reach the tower it isn’t surprising that there was a break in, you’d scoff that Steve didn’t come to break you out but he made his decision in Siberia.

The faint scent of his cologne lingers in your room. Hints of Patchouli and Bergamot. You stare at the box on your bed.

Opening it reveals a burner phone.

“I got a burner too, one number loaded upon it.” Tony stands at the door holding a glass of scotch for himself and your favourite Vodka in a bottle.

“Surprised he bothered.” You open the phone and it chimes an unread text upon it.

“I didn’t get that.” He observes, you take the bottle from him.

Opening the text.

SGR: I want to talk to you. Please let me explain.

You laugh bitterly, unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip. At least you can blame these tears on the alcohol.

“Are you going to? Call him I mean.” Tony settles on your desk chair.

“Nope.” You set your bottle down after three more sips, grabbing the edges of the opened flip phone you press. The phone snaps from its hinges and you place it back down in the box, “Did you track it?”

“Fake return address.” He twirls the ice in his drink.

The two of you bask in the silence. Drinking in tandem and out of sync.

“Were you going to sign the Accords?” You ask after a while staring at the setting sun.

“Nope,” He reaches for your bottle, pouring himself a peg, “I was having them redrafted. Steve only had to agree for them to shut up. My draft would have gotten approved.”

“So confident.” You raise your brows.

“Comes with the job title.” He rolls his eyes.

“Do you think anyone will trust anyone?” You tap the bottle neck.

Steve’s laughter reverberates against your chest. He reaches up to cup your face.

“Why is it so amusing?” You ask, not meeting his eyes.

“Because it is, Poppet. I wouldn’t break your heart.” He assures yet again.

You gnaw at your bottom lip trust was difficult to come by for you.

“You want to know why?” He whispers, making you meet his gaze. His nose brushing against your own.

“Because I have your heart and it's what is keeping me alive.”

You lean closer, pressing your lips to his, Steve kisses you back. Hands pulling you closer. You feel his smile between the kisses and you begin to retract knowing what he was upto but it’s too late.

Steve tickles your sides and laughter blubbers from your chest. He grins, cheeks flushed as you press against him. The thin sheet hides nothing from the way you feel.

“I love you.” He says, you stroke his cheek with your thumb.

“I loved him with everything in me.” You blubber out, tears falling down.

Tony sits next to you, your head rests on his good shoulder, “I know you did. It's a hard road ahead, kid. Not an undoable one.”

“I hate him.” You declare, “I hate him, he just, how could he be so selfish?”

“Sometimes we all are, he is in the wrong. He didn’t exactly reciprocate the trust.” Tony sighs, you look up at him.

“I’m sorry about your parents.” You watch him give you those sad smiles, he flexes and extends the fingers of his left hand.

“He could have told me, I trusted him enough that he could.” He whispers then shakes his head.

“Steve Rogers is an asshole.” You declare raising your bottle to his assholery. Then you giggle.

“You just thought of the word assholery didn’t you?” Tony giggles as well.

Both of you burst out laughing.

“Hey Tone?” You ask mid laughter.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for being here, also can I get a box?”

“Sure.” He stands, FRIDAY has the box led by one of his tinkered bots to the room.

“I need to check on Rhodey.” He says, “I’m a call away okay?”

You nod, he leaves. The box stays on your bed and then you stare at the sketches hung around your room. With a delicateness that Steve didn’t spare towards you, you pack up the papers. Sealing the box with plastic wrap and head down to the safety deposit lockers.

Your steps are misjudged and you drop your box of trinkets several times. The stupid ceramic mug from that couples pottery class probably shattered.

You giggle thinking how it resembles your heart.

Locking the box leaves you in silence. Your room is void of all things Steve except the one shirt he gave you on your first mission together where the two of you fell into the muddled waters that left the two of you in need to change out of clothes.

The shirt smells like him, you curl up with it on your pillow.

“This is the last time you gave your heart away.” You tell yourself.

“This is the last time you cry over him.” You promise yourself.

Eight months pass and you all sit in the conference room. The accords are abolished. They reinstate Natasha, Sharon, James, Sam and him. Tony holds his flip phone. Resorting to texting rather than speaking to him.

A reply comes when you all are back at the tower. They’d be there tomorrow. Rooms are prepared with favourite foods stocked up. You had requested your room be shifted away to another level.

Heart ache didn’t manifest beyond those few nights.

Your walls that Steve Rogers broke down were built back stronger. Impenetrable. His shirt was placed in his room by you a month into getting over him.

You don��t pass by the floor, you’re a level above. Thankfully the elevators divide the levels they service and you won’t ever be on the same floor as him.

The night is restless despite your indifference to all of them. They were the family you chose and yet you were abandoned by them.

Dreams are but a loop of memories you have buried.

After your morning laps you head to Tony’s lab.

“They will be dropping in at SHIELD first. Fury wants to discuss some things and then they come back here.” He stifles a yawn.

“You need caffeine my friend.” You hold up the coffees, “Luckily I come bearing gifts.”

“I love you.” He whispers gingerly while taking the cup.

“Are you talking to the coffee or me?” You ask, taking a sip of your own.

“I can love both.” He defends, whispering to the coffee he loves it more.

You throw one of his discarded paper balls on him. It doesn’t phase him.

“Are you sure you want to come along?” He asks for the umpteenth time on the drive to SHIELD.

“Tony, I will leave you behind if you ask me again.” You glare at him.

“I think you will be fine.” Vision assures a gentle smile on his face and he laces his fingers with Wanda. She smiles at him, her own mind filled with thoughts.

“See we’ll be okay.” You declare.

Minutes later you’re seated on one side of the conference room. Tony on the first seat, you on the second. Vision opts to stand behind Wanda as she sits.

Fury sits at the head of the table. The door opens and Natasha, Sam and Steve step into the room. A thick silence settles over. You look at each of them and then back at Fury.

Natasha’s hair is shorter and blond, Sam seems to have gotten leaner. Steve was sporting a beard and longer hair.

You wondered if the post break up look was something you should have gone for, maybe dyed your hair blue.

“Well, as you know you all have been reinstated. The Avengers operate without any Accords binding them but they must be mindful of their poweress and the possible damage they may cause. A country has full discretion to forbid the Avengers from subduing threats that may lead them there and you must honour that no matter the cost.” Fury gazes at you all.

“What if they need help?” Steve questions, you scoff.

Cold blues flash to you. You roll your eyes.

“The dissolution of the Accords was done keeping this one rule in mind. I suggest you make peace with it. You will not be able to save everyone from damage and hurt, it is better than causing it.” Tony adds.

Steve’s jaw tightens. He nods.

“Now since this is done and dusted. Official missions may resume.” Fury places down a manila folder.

“Official?” Sam questions, raising a brow.

“Agent Y/L/N here was liasoning with us for recon purposes. Kept under wraps. We have identified HYRA bases. Once the plans are sanctioned you all will be back on duty.” Nick sighs, “I suggest you all train together to get a sense of your skill sets and moves again.”

No one nods.

Nick shakes his head leaving the room.

“Your old rooms have been cleaned at the tower. Access is via FRIDAY, food is stocked. Layout’s almost the same. Few changes here and there. Oh and there are new succulents in the living room.” Tony fiddles with the folder.

“We can conduct a meeting about these missions tonight or tomorrow. You all settle in, there is a car outside and your vehicles are in pristine condition at the garage.” He informs them further.

“No welcome back party?” Nat muses, you laugh.

“I drank all the liquor so unfortunately no parties.” You deadpan.

Nat and Sam stare at you.

“It has been a difficult few months. I understand everyone will take time to return to a semblance of previous normalcy.” Vision’s words are both reassuring but also farfetched.

Wanda grasps his hand and gives it a squeeze.

Steve’s brows furrow in worry. He observes you trying to find any hints but you give him none. You learned to school yourself. An agent well versed in hiding her intent, emotions and aim. Your skillset is what brought you to the team and it is what you have. It's what you could trust.

Sam nods, “Well best we head back.”

“Yes we could use some sleep.” Natasha says, you flash her a smile.

“Yep, well I have a few things to discuss with Fury.” You push away from the table first. Tony follows your lead.

“Should you not include us in the conversation?” Steve says in his authoritative baritone.

“Unfortunately, Captain, it isn’t an Avengers matter but a personal one. Which you aren’t entitled to know.” You spit back.

His mouth opens again to speak.

Tony beats him to it, “Where’s our Manchurian candidate?”

“Bucky’s in the UK for a bit, after Wakanda we were there for a while. He stayed back for personal reasons.” Steve explains and you slip out.

Steve stares at your room door, knocking on it yet again. Two weeks since his return and you had avoided him in every capacity.

He had worked up the courage to knock on your door today. But there was no response as it was over the past fifteen minutes. He requests FRIDAY to check in and all the AI says is that you’re fine.

You had gotten back from a mission yesterday morning. You had to have been resting.

“Why won’t she open her door then?” He mutters, pressing his forehead to your door, “Poppet, I just want to speak to you. Please.”

“Captain.” Vision greets floating out of Wanda’s room.

“Vision.” He acknowledges.

“Why are you knocking on an empty room’s door?” Vision tilts his head.

Steve blinks at him, “This is Y/N’s room.” he states as if obvious.

“It isn’t, she switched rooms about three months ago.” Vision says

Before Steve can ask anything further, Wanda opens her door, “Vis.” She gestures with her hand for him to return.

“Wanda.” He walks to her this time.

“FRIDAY, where is Y/N’s new room?” Steve questions walking to the elevators.

“She’s on the twenty-fifth floor.” The AI responds, he switches to the other elevator.

“Captain, you will have to go to the ground floor to switch elevators.” FRIDAY informs him.

Steve sighs moving back in front of the original elevator. It stops at every single floor; he almost misses the elevator as you’re getting on, luckily a Stark Industries employee holds the door for him.

You bite the inside of your cheek. Looking away.

“I want to talk.” He says over the all too silent but crowded elevator.

Everyone looks at him except you. They follow his gaze to you.

“I don’t.” You answer while staring at the numbers.

“Poppet.” He says and you shoot him a glare before looking away again.

People trickle in and out.

Steve’s gaze is trained upon you. He nods politely at those greeting him but his gaze nerver strays from you.

You look into your phone pulling up a forgotten game loaded into the device. Anything. Any stupid thing to avoid him.

Finally it's just the two of you.

The automated air freshener hisses filling the space with the scent of lavender.

“Poppet I just want to explain—,” Steve steps closer, his hand outstretched.

“No. I don’t fucking want to hear a word.” You seethe, you move forward pressing the button to your floor if it makes you reach quicker.

“Poppet.” He grabs your hand, turning you towards him.

“Y/N. Use my damn name.” You spit out, finally meeting his eyes.

There is a tick in his jaw, he nods, “Y/N. Just five minutes. I know I don’t deserve it—,”

“You don’t deserve to even ask for a minute of my time. You never saw us work beyond that month correct? Well guess what? We don’t.” You push at his chest, he doesn’t budge.

“I lied. I said those things so you wouldn’t follow. I could not have you living rogue with me.” Steve admits, you stare at him.

“You lied?” You repeat.

“I didn’t want to break things off but that was the only way I could ensure you wouldn’t follow behind me. It was dangerous. Poppet—Y/N,” he corrects, “I told you your heart kept me alive, I love you—,”

Steve’s head snaps to the side, cheek turning red at the impact of your slap. You breathe hard, eyes tearing up.

“That was not for you to fucking decide, you do not get to come back here and make your sorry excuses for being a horrible human being. Betraying my trust. Leaving me and your friend injured. You picked Bucky over us. You picked Bucky over me and I understand I would pick him too if I were you. But I would not fucking lie or leave my girlfriend and best friend behind injured horribly. You’re welcome back to the compound Steve. Even back to your glorious Captain America title. However,”

The doors open to your floor, you step out.

“I don’t know how you say you’re alive because I took my fucking heart back from your undeserving self. I don’t care if you lied, I don’t care if it was all fun and games. I don't care about you. I don’t want to care about you. You are a teammate because I am forced to consider you one. I don’t need to listen to you to provide you closure or a second chance. You fucking liar!”

“Poppet,” Steve reaches for you again, you take off running to your door.

“FRIDAY, deny access. Override only with Tony.” You order, the locks on your doors bolt and Steve keeps knocking and pleading.

He sinks to his knees outside your door apologising over and over.

Natasha is pinned to the floor by Wanda as the latter grins triumphantly. Natasha praises her and they break apart. You take Wanda’s place and Sam takes Natasha’s place.

Mixed training was now mandatory.

You had almost burned Nick Fury with your glare. Steve hadn’t shown up to any, in fact he hardly was in the same room as you.

Sam goes full offence, you block the blows. Defending yourself you had worked hard over the time away from official duties.

Minutes pass by, neither of you yields. Panting you stare at Sam waiting for an opening to take him down.

“Come on, that's all you got, little spy?” Sam teases, you laugh.

“You wish birdy.” You stick your tongue out childishly. Wanda and Nat laugh.

“Come on Wilson.” Nat prompts, “We’re bored here.”

“Alright,” Sam moves, pulling a fake. You catch it a moment too late, as he’s about to tackle you to the ground you turn. Tugging on his arm as Sam’s eyes widen.

The momentum thrown off both of you land on your sides, recovering swiftly he’s pinned to the ground by you.

You grin at him.

“How's that birdy?” You laugh at his irritation. Sam rolls his eyes.

“Y/N.”

Everyone’s heads snap to the door, Steve and Tony stand there.

You help Sam up. Sam keeps an arm around your shoulder. Steve’s eyes linger and his fists clench.

Sam takes his arm away.

You roll your eyes, they land on Tony as he bites his cheek, oh this can’t be good you deem.

“Wheels up in an hour for Rogers and you.” He delivers the news.

“Sam, Nat, Vis and Wanda are needed to take on a bigger base with Tony.” Steve looks at you, “Fury’s orders before you try to whine your way out if it.”

You glare at him, “Alright.”

An hour later you’re on the jet with Steve. He doesn’t talk. The last conversation between the two of you was enough.

“We won’t be splitting up.” Steve informs you. You nod, studying the layout.

You frown in recognition.

“I was here on recon. This is supposed to be a dead base.” You look up at him.

“Fury said they detected activity.” He looks back ahead.

“Hopefully it's just random people looking for shelter.” You look back at the plans.

Steve hums, observing you again. Wishing it would be like before where the two of you would be holding hands.

Cobwebs litter the walls, plaster cracked. The scent of something decaying permeates through the space.

Walking into the HYDRA base is carefully crafted, Steve leads with his shield. You keep a double check on the back trail. Something was not sitting right with you.

The hallway diverges, you stand next to Steve, “Left side first then we can go right.” You whisper.

He nods, “Stay close, I don’t know why something feels wrong.”

You don’t verbalise your own feelings, following in his footsteps.

The hallway leads to an abandoned lab, the computers torn down and broken apart. Steve relaxes his defensive stance looking around the area.

You move carefully through the edge of the room, “Something should be of value here.”

“I don’t think there is anything.” Steve declares, “Let's clear the other pathway.”

You give another once over and then follow him back down the path.

Your boot catches on the uneven flooring, “Shit!” You whisper yell as you fall forward.

Steve turns, breaking your fall. You land against his chest and his arm encircles your waist. For a moment that echoes a broken promise of eternity he holds you close to him.

Steve sneaks a moment he lost over a stupid decision. He takes what crumbs he’s given by fate.

Your palm is against his chest, your head tucked against the crook of his neck.

Why can't you move away?

Why do you want more of him?

Why do you miss him?

He hurt you.

He lied.

He hurt you.

You break the eternity Steve was living as you pull away, silence stretches between the two of you as you head down the other hallway.

It's empty yet again, you shake your head at the waste of time. Steve steps closer to the vials on the shelf. The liquid in them gleams a certain way.

You hear a pneumatic hiss from your left. You turn quietly making your way to the wall.

Steve studies the shelf again. There was no dust on it. No pattern on it. These were fresh vials. Then his eyes widened, “Y/N don’t!”

You turn to face him when the hiss is louder and the slits of the vent open. A dust like substance pours over floating around you.

A coughing fit grips you, you place your hand against the wall to steady yourself the gun falls as you clutch your chest wheezing.

Steve pads over to you, trying to rub your back to ease the coughing fit. He asks FRIDAY to scan the micro dust to see if it is anything dangerous.

The coughing fit subsides over a few minutes, your breathing shallow. You look up at Steve blinking away the tears. He cups your cheek.

“Are you okay? Do you feel anything?” He questions, gaze running over every aspect of you. Glove clad large palms moving over your form. You nod, but then your stomach cramps.

“What is it?” Steve takes not of your discomfort.

“I, it's my stomach—,” Your words are cut off by a whimper as the cramp gains severity. You lean more against the wall as the cramp travels across.

Steve rummages through his mind to know what this substance could be, he had been to HYDRA bases before. He spoke to Bucky all about them, their experiments which he knew.

He watches as your skin flushes, you squirm in his grasp. He steps closer to support you.

“Poppet?” Steve makes you look up at him, your eyes have a dazed look almost glazed over. You feel his warmth through your tactical suit. His thigh between your legs and the ache the needy ache is all you know and you need to get rid of it.

“Please,” You plead to him gazing at his slightly blurred blue eyes, your hips moving out of their own accord against his thigh you moan as your core makes contact with him.

Steve pushes your hips away, “Poppet what—,”

“Steve, it hurts so badly. Please,” You cry out wiggling against his hold. His fingers dig into your hips to keep you in place.

Your palms cover his, you look up at him.

You lean up, he shifts back. You use the distraction to guide his palm to grind down on it. Your choked moan has his cock harden further. He can’t help but watch as you use him.

Logic hits him then when he feels just how wet you’ve gotten, before he can pull away there is a prick in the side of his neck. You begin to blur from his view.

“Poppet, something is wrong.”

You look up at him, why did his words sound garbled?

Why was he falling to his knees?

You look behind him, people standing and watching.

The need clouding your mind clears in the slightest, “Steve,” you kneel next to him.

“It’s okay,” he assures you, reaching for the shield.

The cramp hits you again harder; you cry out in pain, doubling over and sinking against the wall to curl up.

“FRIDAY, dis-distress signal.” Steve orders as his vision begins to blacken, he reaches for you with the last of his strength covering your curled up form with his body.

Steve keeps his eyes closed.

Enhanced hearing picking up the dripping pipes from the left. To his right he hears your pained whimpers.

How long was he out?

Chains bind his arms above him, the uneven concrete digs into his knees and shins. He would search for the shield in the aftermath.

He counts four people by their rhythmic footfall. They were in the same facility. It couldn’t have been easy to move them.

Lolling his head to right he watches you through hooded eyes, chained like him kept on your knees but you’re struggling. Squirming on the ground trying to find respite and crying out of frustration.

“Sex pollen.” Bucky spoke, with a shake of his head in disgust.

“Sex pollen?” Steve repeated as if to confirm.

Bucky gives him a look, Steve’s eyebrows shot up higher.

“What does that do? Did they use it on you?” Steve questioned his best friend.

Bucky shook his head, “It basically sets the libido up to the maximum, forces the person in contact to orgasm but basically they need to have sex, self pleasure seldom works. The intensity is higher to combat the inevitable effect.”

A dark expression crossed Bucky’s features, he sighed sadly. Looking out at the view from his home in Wakanda. The house, though borrowed, was Bucky’s own.

Steve had placed a few sketches of Brooklyn around. The place he used to consider home now changed. Steve stares at the more recent sketch of his home city.

Two men out of time in a place decades ahead of the world outside.

“How long?” Steve clutches his charcoal tighter as he forms the curve of soft lips on the paper. A stray tendril of hair.

Bucky looks down at the half done sketch of your face. His heart aches for Steve and you.

“Two hours, it gets progressively maddening. At first one can try to speak or answer what is asked. After that it is variable how long it takes for the need to become the sole focus. If nothing is done in two hours then its too far gone and well...”

He had limited time, he could not gamble any further. Steve opens his eyes, tugging at the restraints to catch the attention of the captors.

You hear the rattling, you look up at Steve another pang through your core.

“Steve—,”

“Ah, Captain. Welcome to the land of the waking, you were out for just under an hour. Now who is this sweet little needy thing with you?” The man asks, stepping closer to you.

Steve growls, “Stay away from her.” he warns.

The man raises his hands in defence, “She’s a little needy Captain,” he walks back toward Steve away from you, “Why so possessive?”

Steve bites his tongue, “She’s mine.” he grits out.

“I see and why is she yours?”

He can’t tell them, they would exploit you but his will is crumbling swiftly and his mind is compelling him to speak, “I love her.”

“Hm, it seems she needs you, Captain.” The man grins, walking back to you. His palm touches your scalp as he pulls your hair back. You want to recoil but the touch is soothing some of the ache. You look at Steve, pleading.

“I could fill in.” He says suggestively.

You try to shuffle away but the grip on your hair tightens.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her!” Steve bellows as his thumb approaches your lips, “What the fuck do you want?” He pulls against the restraints, almost snarling.

“I want to know where my Soldat is, tell me.” The man demands, leaving you. The words register as does the scent of cigarettes you recoil. You feel your mind working again, clearing the need to be fucked.

“Steve don’t,” you warn him, he couldn’t sell out Bucky whatever this was, it wasn't worth ruining his life again, “I’ll deal with this…” you bite back the pained whimper.

Steve stares at you, eyes wide and with an emotion you can’t place.

“Oh but you know what is wrong with her don’t you Captain?” The man demands and you look to Steve, “Tell her the truth that burns your veins, Captain.”

Steve wants to lie, wants to cushion you, “Truth serum?” He looks at the man who nods.

“Brilliant isn’t it? You’re compelled to tell me whether or not she chooses to be saved. You’re on a time limit.” The man taps his watch.

“It’s a sex pollen.” Steve informs you, you stare at him.

“That, that's why I need?” Your insides churn and your clit pulses as you watch Steve lick his dry lips before he continues to speak. The small insignificant action has your body wanting to be devoured.

“Yes, and if you don’t get release, it’s fatal.”

Silence stretches on the footfall of the three others has stopped, they watch the show play out. The consequences and the outcomes weighed.

“Fight it, don’t tell them. It's not worth it.” You whisper.

“Poppet you cannot say that. I am not risking your life!” Steve yells, pulling at the restraints again.

“You can’t have him at risk again!”

“I won’t let you die!”

“You already left me for the dead once! You chose him once. Just fucking do it again!” You seethe, your skin clammy and you just want this suit gone. The material irritates you.

Steve gapes at you, “I, I didn’t—,”

“Save it.”

“As much as I enjoy a lover’s quarrel. Where is Soldat?” The man interrupts.

“Gone.” Steve answers, “Poppet, please,”

“Don’t fucking tell them!” You demand, “Consider it my last wish! Fight the damn truth serum.”

“You are not dying.” Steve grits out.

“Where is he, where is Bucky Barnes?” The man lands a punch to Steve’s face. His hair falls forward, slowly Steve looks up at the man. Rage colouring all his features.

“I will let you help her. Just tell me where Bucky is, Captain.” The man promises. Steve considers, you begin to yell no at him.

“He’s in the United Kingdom.”

“Are you insane?!” You slump to the ground, “Do you have any fucking idea what have you done?”

The man walks over and slaps you, “Shut the fuck up! You want a cock so fucking bad you fucking bitch in heat, I’ll give you one!”

Steve snarls, wrapping the chain around his own palm and tugging hard until it breaks away from the wall. The man turns, gun cocked and ready, it's grabbed out of his hand by Steve. He looks at the man dead in his eyes before delivering the fatal shot.

You look up at Steve, as the man drops to the floor between the two of you.

Steve watches the other three scramble about, he quickly fires the shots, he keeps one person alive.

He grabs the other chain, yanking it with all his strength. It gives way.

“Where is the shield?” He walks over to the man on the ground, pleading in pain.

A shaking hand rises, pointing to the vault.

“Access code?” Steve picks him up and takes him to the keypad.

The man enters it crying when Steve presses on the open wound, “Don’t fucking pull any stunts.”

You watch as the doors part and the shield stays there as a momento.

You blink when everything goes out of focus. You blink again. Heat spreads over your body goosebumps raise across.

Your thighs clench and you squirm trying to get some friction to release the ache. Tugging at the restraints is maddening. They don’t relent when you try to manoeuvre but no position provides any respite and you sob out as the frustration grows.

“Poppet.” A warm voice calls out, you whimper. The hold on your right arm loosens and your hand reaches for the tactical suit. You had to get it off. You needed to get it off.

You blink and watch as Steve’s hand stops yours, you push at him.

“Please,” you whimper as another cramp takes over.

“You smell so sweet baby.” He groans, the sound urges you on, you guide his hand to where you need him.

His warm palm cups you the fabric of your suit soaked Steve hears your sigh of relief.

“Going to take care of you Poppet, but you need to hold on for me okay?” Steve assures, breaking out your left arm as well.

“Steve please,” you beg again, your mind screaming at your body, your hips move making you grind onto his palm. Your smaller palm wrapped around his wrist not letting him pull away.

“Fuck,” He groans, pushing you against the corner and undoing your suit’s zipper, you don’t face him palms braced against the wall. Steve’s warm calloused palm is as though cold respite to your heated skin.

He doesn’t waste time, fingers running over your folds, palm pressing against your clit. Your head tilts back resting against his shoulder, mouth parted moans leaving you.

Steve presses his fingers into you, two thick digits and your walls clench around him he almost wishes he’d fuck you right there.

“Fuck this pussy remembers who she belongs to doesn’t she?” Fingers curve finding the spot he very well could have placed. Stars line your vision as he hits the spot over and over, fingers curving.

“Right there Steve!” You cry out your ass rocking against him, pressing onto his cock. He keeps his thrusts hard and fast, palm rubbing your clit in the most delicious of ways. His grunts fill your senses.

Pleasure thrums from his touch to your body, your back arching as his fingers drive deeper and deeper into you. Your walls are gripping them back in not wanting him to stop.

“I know sweet Poppet. I know what makes her weep for me. I’m going to taste you. But first you’re going to make a mess on my hand alright?” He instructs filthy words offset by the sweet kisses placed against your forehead and cheek.

His other hand cups your breast playing with your nipple. Your hands fall from the wall, gripping onto his nails leaving indents on his skin. Steve watches your chest constrict, your voice choke off, eyes rolling back as your orgasm crashes into you.

His fingers keep moving, riding your orgasm out, your walls quivering around him the sensitivity of your clit as it pulses. Some of the haze clears but the need just returns tenfold.

“Steve, please, I can’t, can’t wait—,”

His lips are on yours, cutting you off, your suit pushed down further without breaking away from the kiss.

The shield clatters to the floor, his suit haphazardly discarded. Steve’s hands explore your body, remembering the planes he explored before. The love he whispered across your skin. Marking you with his touch, his lips, his seed.

“Wanna see you,” You want to turn, he grabs your hands pinning them to the wall.

“No one gets to see you this way but me.” He growls, you feel his hard cock move between your thighs. His larger body covers yours, shielding you, watching over you.

When your thighs clench around him, Steve hisses, “Going to fill you up, sweet girl.” he coos.

Inch by inch Steve’s length stretches you, your back arches. The relief the stretch of his cock brings is unlike anything else you’ve felt before.

“You can take it, made for my cock aren't you?” He stills inside you, throbbing as your walls clench around him. He moans biting down on your shoulder the feel of you decadent, unable to be given justice by his mind.

“Heaven. Pussy feels so good, baby. Missed you so much.” He grunts, you push back against him needing him to move, “hands around my neck.” He orders, leaving your hands.

You wrap them around him, holding onto his now longer hair, soft between your fingers. Your mind remains you of the soft moments when he laid in your lap and your fingers combed through these locks.

Steve pulls you out of your thoughts with the snap of his hips. His palms gripping your waist anchoring you to him. Skin slapping against skin, his cock feels so good you could sob, the need turns into embers, your thirst being quenched.

Each delicious, deep stroke moves you towards sweet bliss. You hear your name in an echo of his name. Steve watches the wall you mould against him, as countless times before. Your heart may have put up walls but your body left no space.

The way he sees the telltale signs of your orgasm he brings his right hand towards your apex, timing his rough circles on your clit to his thrusts. The sensations blooming become too much, your body alit with flames of pleasure, Steve moans as your walls begin to milk him just as your orgasm shatters through you.

He keeps his thrusts going, pumping into you. The arousal that spills onto your thighs, the mix of you and him.

“One more.” He demands, fingers coated with the mix of the two of you, his marked fingers brought back to your clit, you cry out in ecstasy.

The blissful haze clears, everything returning to you. The mission, the power, you can’t, you can’t, Steve, Steve, Steve, Steve–,

“Right here my sweet poppet, you will give me one more. You know I'm greedy.” He reasons, only increasing his pace, you thrash in his hold. Lips find the sweet spot of your neck.

It’s your undoing, you cum around him yet again. Crying out his name, tugging on his hair. Aftershocks moving through you. He holds you up, pressing kisses to your forehead, temple, cheek, jaw and shoulders.

Grounding you, palms moving over you after he brings his coated fingers to taste them. Your head lols against his shoulder, you reach for his jaw, placing a soft kiss. Steve smiles at the familiar gesture.

Helping you get dressed he follows as well. You’re lifted into his arms and carried to the quinjet.

As it had turned out Bucky wasn’t in UK it was a precautionary measure they came up with to secure Bucky from any life threatening attempts. The guilt you had harboured lessened.

Steve had stayed away from you, once Tony and Bruce cleared you of any remnant pollen he took his leave. Avoiding you as he had after the elevator confrontation. It left a bitter taste in your mouth.

As much as you felt as if you were an emotional fool for considering the thought of wanting to approach him, you missed him. Terribly.

You knew your walls were useless against the one man who you had given your jagged heart to, the blue eyes you had drowned yourself in multiple times. Whether it was when he found your gaze across the room or when you were pressed against him.

Your feet carried you after three days to his door. Your hand shook when you knocked. Thoughts swirling through your mind insecurities gaining fleet.

The door opens, Steve’s eyes widen then his brows furrowed with worry, then fall to the still fading love bite that he placed on your collarbone. You shift your weight to either side. Hands fiddling with the hem of your top.

You look down at your feet, Steve’s palm cups your cheek.

Your eyes meet their old home of blue.

“I want to listen.” You manage to say, his pink lips stretch into a familiar smile.

He steps to the side inviting you further into his room.

-x-x-x-x-

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violentdelightsandviolentends · 7 months

Note

hiiii can you do whiskey w/ steve rogers that involves spanking/light bdsm? reader wants to try something new in the bedroom and steve's a little more hesitant at first but he gets into it

Darkness.

warnings - smut. cursing.

you know I had to use another nomad gif... it's the long hair with the beard... it gets me going man. I kind of went a little rogue with this request, but it just happened. apologies.

3k celebration post here. 3k masterlist here.

He's dreamed of women like you.

Strong, independent, resilient.

Women that take what they want, when they want it - regardless of the repercussions.

But he never could have anticipated your intuition. Your instincts.

You can read him like a book. Plain and simple. And no one can do that.

Steve prides himself on being stoic. Brave. The face of freedom. But it's like you look at him with x ray vision.

"Don't you ever get tired of it?" you ask one night.

Steve's sat on the edge of the bed, watching you get undressed. It's been a long night, full of fake smiles and ballgowns and polite handshakes. Weariness has settled in his bones.

"Tired of what?"

"The Golden Boy thing."

He scoffs.

"It's not a 'thing'."

You scoff.

"Come on, Steven. Don't forget I can see right through you."

"Oh yeah? Then what do you see, honey?"

You stalk over to him, settling down in his lap. Your favourite place.

"I can see the darkness, you know."

His brow quirks. Curiosity.

"Sometimes, I watch the America's Sweetheart facade slip ever so slightly. And I see what's underneath."

"And what would that be?"

A kiss to his jaw. Below his ear. A nip at his throat.

"You're a caged animal."

His grip on your hips tightens. Bingo.

"There's something in here, Steve," you point to his chest. "Something dark. Something raw. Something feral."

His breath hitches. His lungs constrict.

"I wanna see it," you whisper. "Whatever's underneath. I wanna see it."

He chuckles, low and menacing.

"Oh, honey. I don't think you know what you've just done."

You're on all fours in the blink of an eye. Strong fingers twist into the waistband of your underwear and pull, the sound of ripping lace making you gasp.

A smack to your ass makes you jolt, but not with fear. Anticipation. You want to see how far he'll go before he stops himself. You want to see his restraint snap.

"If you need me to stop," he whispers into your ear, "tell me. Or use the word Brooklyn."

He spanks you again before flipping you over with inhuman strength. He undoes his tie and runs the silk material through his fingers. You can see the cogs turning. He just needs a little push.

You raise your wrists and place them against the headboard, giving him a look that says I dare you.

Steve ties you up, standing back to admire his handiwork. He could get used to this view.

He reminds himself that you asked for this.

And he's never been one to deny you anything.

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rogersideup · 1 year

Text

Nice to be Kneaded

Series masterlist

Nomad Steve Rogers x Baker Reader

Almost every news station in the country was covering the chase for the missing superheroes post-raft-escape following the Civil War. Steve Rogers face had been plastered on the cover of every news paper, fliers stapled to street lamps, posted on bulletin boards in what felt like every coffee shop in the country. It had been just a few long months shy of a year, just long enough to grow out his hair and beard to make himself as unrecognizable as he could manage. Though he was still the poster boy of disorder within the states, he found himself in the scanty town of Greenwood in the house right next to yours.

Chapters 1-18

⋆｡°✩ Chapter one: Welcome to Greenwood

⋆｡°✩ Chapter two: Inhale, Exhale

⋆｡°✩ Chapter thee: Nice to be Needed

⋆｡°✩ Chapter four: Captain-What’s-His-Butt

⋆｡°✩ Chapter five: Absdoughlutely

⋆｡°✩ Chapter six: Sunflower

⋆｡°✩ Chapter seven: Beautifully Natured

⋆｡°✩ Chapter eight: The Brewing Storm

⋆｡°✩ Chapter nine: Doomsday

⋆｡°✩ Chapter ten: The Snap

⋆｡°✩Chapter Eleven: Courage

⋆｡°✩Chapter Twelve: Homecoming

⋆｡°✩Chapter Thirteen: Cardboard Castle

⋆｡°✩Chapter Fourteen: Cinnamon Roll

⋆｡°✩Chapter Fifteen: Everything will be Okay

⋆｡°✩Chapter Sixteen: Crawl Home to You

⋆｡°✩Chapter Seventeen: Endgame

⋆｡°✩Chapter Eighteen: Good Luck Charm

⋆｡°✩ More fun stuff extended masterlist ⋆｡°✩

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ronearoundblindly · 2 months

Text

Hideout (4.2)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Horny Teen, part two (see previous or series)

Summary: A late-summer heat wave hits you and Steve hard.

Warnings for smut (kinda unprotected sex, momentarily--guess that's dubcon to be safe--fingering, lots of foreplay things and dirty talk but Steve can't actually talk dirty, so...hot talk? IDK, gang, I 'bout died writing this. Prepare thy loins, babes). MINORS DNI. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this series is not for you! WC 3.1k

A/N: This part contains a cannibalized version of the original idea for this series, but since we've developed differently to this point, it is very different.

He calls ahead. For the first time in a year of visiting, he calls ahead and knows you aren’t working the night he’ll be here.

You work in the garden as long as you can stand before hopping in a cool shower. You aren’t even wrapped in a towel when the trill of your room phone—extension 14, as Steve now knows it—blares through multiple closed doors.

He’s checked-in, and in Room Two, but no pressure, if you want, if you don’t have plans, he’s here. It is the most adorable and awkwardest conversation of all time. It also never gets old to hear him scramble for the simplest of sentiments.

Translation: I’m excited to see you.

Your heart soars then immediately stalls in the stifling weather.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” you chuckle.

Of course, he opens his arms for a bear hug the instant the door labeled ‘2’ swings wide. Steve has fewer troubles with platonic affection when alone, that’s for sure, but who could blame him? You’re elated he’s here under any circumstances.

Record-setting heat this late in the summer has left all the AC units taxed to the brink, running constantly, and even with the in-room thermostat set stupidly low, a tank top and shorts is too much.

This means another first: both of you, in bed, naked.

Nothing’s happened, mind, because the swelter of the day zapped energy out of every creature for miles and miles around. The ice machine can’t keep up with eight rooms and your family needing relief from the blaze. From the bright stripe of red across Steve’s cheeks and his earthy musk, he was outside plenty. He’s wiped, too.

You wonder absently when the last time he wore cologne was and what it smelled like. Perhaps he never used it. Perhaps he misses small luxuries more than he ever realized.

Steve looks on the brink of heat-stroke, so you inched yourself onto one side of the bed to start, thinking skin-to-skin contact might be unwelcome. You barely got your palms on the sheets before he pulled you to him. You did not fight it.

It’s meant to be a profound comfort—your weight atop him—and it is.

Your cheek settles on his chest, eyes watching through the sheer curtains as dusk takes over the sky, a happy man stretched like a cat beneath you, smiling, heart beat slowing in your ear. So strong, so steady, so secure.

He’s safe. He’s comfortable. That’s all that matters.

You peer up from your perch. The thin worry lines on his forehead have relaxed. He seems younger. Freedom looks good on Steve Rogers, just as good as it looks on Captain America, maybe better.

You fall asleep straddling his hips, one knee hitched so the crook of your ankle drapes his thigh, slowly pushed up and down by his deep breaths.

You’re drifting, rocked gently by powerful waves in the nothingness of your blank mind, free like him, blooming in the warmth of a bright sun embracing you.

The glow continues until Steve gently shakes you awake.

The room is pitch black, the lights of the parking lot too muted to pass through the gossamer layer over the window.

“You’re…you were squirming a lot. Thought you might be having a nightmare,” his rough timber booms close to your ear.

“No, I—“ you wipe at your face “—I don’t think I was dreaming.”

Steve’s not so relaxed under you now. His abs quake slightly, and those slow breaths have become stunted, shallow with control.

“Did you?” you ask, looking towards his face, useless in the dark but your drowsy brain hasn’t caught up yet.

There’s a shuffling noise above you.

“Is that a ‘yes?’ Did you have a nightmare? You alright?”

The shuffling repeats, accompanied by a strangled “yes,” and you lift your arm to brace on his chest. It unhooks your leg from his, and the hard length of his erection moves from its perch at your ass, nudging the joint of your hip and thigh from below.

“Not—not a nightmare,” he whispers. “Just ignore it.”

Steve’s voice is husky, his grip on the back of your knee tight and unyielding, keeping you from trapping him between your legs.

Your impulse is to soothe him, to tell him he is fine and it is okay to be turned on, generally, when naked and pressed to someone you find attractive—hell, you definitely are—but if he wants you to ignore it, if he’d rather not, if it’s too soon or too hot (metaphorically, physically) or just too much right now, then you respect that. None of this has ever been about making him feel like how he chooses to receive affection is wrong.

Without moving any limbs, your fingers retract and relax, a gentle, nailless scratch to his broad pec beneath your hand, and his cock twitches, tapping your leg.

“Sorry,” Steve huffs.

“Do you want me to get off of you?” You suppress the urge to make a minor edit in that statement because it’s very close to what you want to do.

The shuffling noise sounds different.

“No,” he says softly.

You slide your hand up his chest to his neck and around the back of his head, petting the corner of his bearded jaw just below his ear, careful to use as few muscles as possible.

His cock taps you again anyway. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

You ignore it, as asked, and continue scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Hey,” you start in the darkness, “is this comfortable?”

You run your fingertips over his features while he nods, following his jaw up and down.

Unable to see, this paints the most vivid picture of Steve’s reactions. You feel the vibration of a hum through his cheek, the draw and release of his brow as you skate over his forehead. You hear his short chuckle when you brush ever-so-gently across his long lashes and boop his nose. Finally, you trace his open-mouth smile with the edge of your thumb, his ragged exhale rushing over your palm.

Tap.

“Sorry.”

“Comfy though?”

His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Yeah.”

The drag of your fingers past the edge of bristly stubble and down his throat makes him shiver.

Twitch.

“Sorry.”

You flutter across his collarbone, wondering if that means he’s ticklish on more than just his sides.

“Comfy?”

He hums. You feel it rattle your cheek as much as you actually hear it in your ears.

You continue. His corded muscles giving only slightly to the pressure of your touch. His arm, his chest, down to the hand he keeps on your leg.

Several more breathy apologies sound above you. Steve’s other arm is draped over your waist, and with every pulse of need that betrays him, his grip tightens just a little. His fingers now dig into your soft flesh absently.

It’s hard to hide how desperate he’s made you, but the issue is mutual based on how his abs won’t stop tensing, searching for attention where he denies it.

You flatten your hand to his chest and make to move.

“May I?”

Steve’s swallow is louder than the ‘okay’ he returns.

You are careful not to push him in any weird angles as you raise up to your knees and straddle him, pinning his erection beneath you, not directly between your folds but nestled at the apex of your legs, just so he won’t have to worry about every involuntary poke.

With such fresh contact, he clenches his ass hard in response, lifting your whole weight completely before he settles again. The surge of heat to your core has you biting your lip to muffle a moan.

“Comfy?” you rasp at the same moment Steve offers a strangled “sorry.”

The low, constant whine of the air conditioner fills the hollow space around your cocoon of anticipation.

“New plan,” you laugh, relaxing your fingers to splay across his warm skin, “both of us stop doing that, huh? You have nothing to be sorry for, and I’ll trust you to tell me if you aren’t comfortable.”

“So…” Steve shuffles on the sheets, but whatever he moves doesn’t affect your position. “Can I touch you?”

You bite your lip harder before answering, your voice dropping to a sweet reassurance. “Yes. Of course you can, Stevie.”

You keep your pets of his chest and arms light, trying not to tickle him. He’s always so hesitant; you’re worried the tiniest misstep will send him back into his head—not in a good way.

The silence now feels purposeful, dense with possibility, and then rough fingertips land like a foreign explorer who’s braved months at sea solely to experience this moment.

A calculated inhale and exhale rock your pelvis, a wave of nerves foaming in your gut.

He starts innocently enough, mapping your thighs, muttering something about how soft they are, but you don’t dare lean to hear him better. No sudden movements. None. Even though your skin lights up as explosive as those 4th of July fireworks you missed.

Since there’s nothing to see in the room, you feel everything.

He keeps to the periphery of you at first, abandoning your legs to brush the same arms touching him, running fingers together, separating them just as quickly, caressing your palms gently, and dragging his short nails up your wrists without pressure.

You stiffen in pleasure, fighting not to shrink away from the purest intimacy you’ve ever experienced.

His long arms reach the curve of your shoulders, flit across your collarbone, and you’re doing your damndest to keep it together, leaning your head back in lieu of talking.

Don’t scare him.

It can’t last; you’re only human.

Steve’s hands slowly descend over your breasts, middle fingers catching your peaking nipples, and a lewd and aching cry tumbles from your bitten lips.

The force of it surprises you, but more surprising still is him, unfazed, encouraged to linger.

In that low timber, he growls.

“You like that… Knew you would.”

Your body throbs, pulsing with need and emptiness.

That means he thinks of you. He’s imagined this. He’s wanted this.

Stunning electricity shoots through your body as he pinches and twists, squeezes and kneads. Nothing too harsh, but he’s highly motivated when you purr and gasp atop him.

What else does he think about doing? How long has he fantasized? Is this as good as his imagination?

Yours aren’t the only noises now. He sounds tortured with little pleas and whimpers escaping before each guttural moan.

Arousal pools at your folds, and without realizing you started to move, the shy momentum of your hips has nudged his length to lay flush with your dripping center. His tip glides over your clit.

Again and again.

A hot pressure builds in you, faster than ever, kerosene dumped on your wet-dreams and burned to life, a spell manifest in the night.

Steve shakes beneath the palms you brace flat on his chest, the heels digging into his diaphragm.

He moves to grip your thighs hard.

Fire spreads beneath your skin as you two pant and gasp, his whole cock slick and slotted so close to where you truly long for him.

“Wait,” Steve groans, but you can’t understand.

No one could imagine how good this feels, how much you need this, how—

He sits up to stop you, accidentally notching himself at your entrance, your residual motion sliding the thick head of him past the that first, tight ring.

Steve’s lusty moan is barely eclipsed by your own, and you’re too close to halt sheathing him within you, arms instinctively wrapping his shoulders. Desire winds the coil in your belly too taut, the thought of losing this climax unbearable.

“N-uhhh god—“

He’s too sensitive though. He flips you both so your back crashes to the soft sheets and digs his grip into your side, his other hand thumping to anchor on the headboard. Steve sucks air through his teeth like he’s afraid the faintest smell of sex will set him off.

“Don—don’t move,” he orders in thick command.

It makes things worse.

You’re so close, vaulting off the ground and suspended by legs clamped around his waist, dangling on the precipice of ecstasy. You whine and clench, totally unable to control yourself, your nails digging into his back.

Steve cries out, choked at the hilt by your desperation and lost to his own finish.

His hand races from your side to your ass. He pulls out of you only to slot himself there and thrust his cock between your cheeks, cum shooting on the sheets below.

Mindlessly, you ride the cut of his abs, his course pubic hair adding almost enough friction to keep ascending toward your own end, but the void left behind is too consuming. The fire sputters and dims.

Steve buries his face in your neck, breath cooling the sweat lining your skin as he curls away from you, overwhelmed.

“Swear I was gonna wait,” he confesses to the tender spot behind your ear. “I swear.”

“Please,” you croak, tears prickling your eyes in lament for your ruined orgasm.

“Was gonna be better. Swear I’ll do better for you.”

You grope and claw at those thick arms which hold all but his face far away. “Please,” you beg pathetically, “fucking touch me, please.”

A drawn out grunt vibrates the column of your throat.

“Y’shouldn’t have ta beg...”

He shifts to his forearm, caging you in as you plead over and over. He kneels to hover, and your thighs weakly squeeze at his own to emphasize what you need.

“Sounds so pretty when you do…”

Something between a screech and a snarl erupts from your chest.

Steve shushes you, smoothing a big hand across your damp cheek, and quietly, he commands you, “show me what to do.”

Your quivering hold guides him by the wrist down your body. Words to instruct him won’t form in your sex-steeped brain. As luck would have it, he doesn’t need specifics.

“Next time I’ll taste you.” One finger teases your folds in search of his entrance. “Next time you’ll have to beg me to stop.” Two fingers drive forward, displacing a gush of your shared juices. “So wet,” he groans, agonized to silence when you jerk his hand to thrust faster.

“More.”

He sets a loving and delicate pace, the heel of his palm working your clit.

Too delicate.

“More,” you gasp.

He obliges, muttering how good he’ll be to you from now on. You’ll always be first. He promises.

The fire takes over again.

“More, Stevie. Please.”

You grind down on him to prove your point, and he marvels that this isn’t too rough for you.

Each strangled breath ties your moans together in a crescendo worthy of Carnegie Hall.

“God,” he rumbles by your ear again, “I know that sound. You’re close, aren’t you?”

Steve’s pumping fingers bully your body farther and farther up the bed, using only a taste of his real strength.

Your chant of ‘yes’ catches in your taxed lungs. He doesn’t need an answer though.

The super-stretched band snaps, a plateau of peace and weightlessness tipped at the vertex until—crash—nerves are razed all along you like a carpet-bombed battlefield.

“Uhnn, is that what you’re gonna feel like around me?” He sighs at the thought and stills his hand just to commit the ripple to memory. “How’m I s’pose to last?”

You slap a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to hold in your yelp of relief.

That mouth…that fucking mouth of his is a weapon all its own.

Tiny explosions wreak havoc on you, body and soul, as his fingers greedily coax you to keep coming—just a little more—just for him—one last rush—give him everything.

His lips open in your palm, but you grip his face harder.

You can’t. You can’t listen right now. You can’t hear one more dangerously sexy, completely innocent thing fall from his beautiful mouth.

Steve lets his hand go lax but doesn’t take it away from your clenched and spasming thighs.

He tries to speak again then gives up, waiting.

Finally, before you can collapse boneless to the bed, he hooks his arm behind your leg so you don’t land on the cold, cum-stained sheets.

He shakes off your forgotten grip of his jaw.

“Tops?” he whispers, patience personified in the long pause before you hum acknowledgment. “Can I kiss you?”

That fucking mouth…

There’s barely enough breath in you to make a sound, but the instant the ‘ye—’ forms in the back of your throat, Steve’s lips are on yours.

It's your first real kiss, of all the ways, after all this time, following all that.

You’d laugh if you weren’t smiling, suffocating in the gentle press that becomes deep and adoring. He kisses you thoroughly after each frantic gasp for air, savoring you, even in the reckless passion of the moment.

Steve rolls to lay you atop him again, more intimately than before. He keeps his face close, sharing breath even in the heat and stench of sex in the room, your wetness now smeared from his navel to his knee.

Turns out, he is a very good kisser, focusing on the act of physical connection. Not only do your lips touch, but he likes to nudge you into whatever minutely different position with his nose. He likes to nuzzle his beard on your sensitive skin until you giggle and squirm. He relishes you like you relish him.

He whispers things too soft to make out at first. It takes him a while to find his voice, to push past his insecurities, to find his confidence, but eventually, you hear it.

He mumbles how he should have been better, more prepared.

You weave all your fingers through his hair, propped on his chest by your elbows, smiling so he’ll be able to tell in your tone.

“Take the win, Cap.”

You freeze.

You’ve never called him that, and Steve stays silent for an excruciating beat.

“Sorry,” you offer in the dark, air conditioner churning out sobering drafts of reality.

Steve runs his knuckles gently in patterns across your bare back. There’s a short huff and an amused snort, you mind scrambling to plan some explanation as to why you’d haul the drama of out there into his safe space.

He guides you to settle against him again, tucking you into his strong hold with his chin resting on your forehead.

After what feels like an eternity, he simply asks, “comfy?”

A/N: In case you were wondering...

[Next part: Desperate Man, part one]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers series #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #nomad steve #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #touchstarved #touch starved!steve #touch starved #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #nomad captain america #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #hideout series

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capibuck · 9 months

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Breakfast 🥞

Thank you! This fanart is dedicate to a wonderful supporter of ko fi ☕

I have open commissions 😊

#stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers #fanart #stevexbucky #myartwork #nomad!steve #fluff #whitewolf

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late-to-the-party-81 · 10 months

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Birthday Gifts

AN: So Alpha Nomad Steve won the birthday ficlet poll. Enjoy the fluff, which also means that this set of stories is officially a series now. Find Need You Now and Surprise, Surprise here.

Beta’d at speed by @indyluckycharlie

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and banner by me

Master list

Series Master list

Summary: It’s Steve’s birthday and you have the perfect gift all ready

Relationship: Alpha! Nomad Steve and Omega! Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

CW: Breeding Kink, Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Lots of kissing, Non-graphic descriptions of pregnancy, labour and delivery.

28th June

“Steve, I’m as big as a house!”

Your Alpha wrapped his arms around you from behind and nuzzled into your neck and the slightly scarred flesh to be found there.

“A sexy house.”

You playfully slapped his arm and let out an equally playful cry.

“Hey! I’m not gonna disagree with you. That would be dangerous to my health.”

You couldn’t help it. You giggled. Which had probably been his intention.

“Big, strong Captain America, scared of a pregnant Omega?”

He rubbed his bearded face against your neck again, inhaling your scent.

“Only because you’re my Omega.”

You turned in his arms, your large baby bump - a bump that you now knew did hold twins - getting in your way. Luckily Steve knew what you wanted and ducked his head down to kiss you.

Although you had a few weeks until your due date, the fact that you were carrying twins meant they were probably going to show up sooner, rather than later. But it was Steve’s birthday in a week, and you hoped they’d wait until afterwards - you’d hate to miss his birthday by being in hospital.

Once the shock of being reunited and the reveal of your pregnancy had worn off, Steve had revelled in your situation. His Alpha hindbrain preened at the fact that his Omega was pregnant, and if he’d had voracious appetites before, your rounding belly just made him insatiable.

When you were too tired to do anything, he just asked you to lie naked in front of him and he’d jack off, praising you, looking at you, covering your bump with his spend, before cleaning you up, and kissing you until you fell asleep in his arms.

However, when you did have the energy, he liked to perch you on top of him, so you could control the depth and speed. His broad hands held your hips, helping you move - grind - until you came. There’d still be the praises though, the electric gaze, and the aftercare.

Steve deepened the kiss, and then suddenly he lifted you up into his arms. You squeaked and clung onto him, and he let out a low growl in response that went straight to your core. You were glad you weren’t feeling tired today.

July 1st

Your hands held onto the headboard, curling your fingers into the wood as you swivelled your hips.

“Alpha!” You whined as you neared your peak.

“I know, ‘Mega. You can do it, baby. Look so beautiful when you cum. I’ll be right there with you.”

Steve’s right hand dropped from your hip and his thumb delved between your folds, searching out your slick bud and rubbing tight circles over it. The tension in your body snapped like a rubber band and you threw your head back, keening as you trembled above him. His hips thrust up gently under you and you could feel his engorged knot brushing your entrance, and you wished you could take him deep enough to feel it inside you. He groaned with you as you rode out the waves of pleasure, filling you to the brim with his cum.

As you drew in ragged breaths, your arms shook under the exertion of holding yourself up. Sensing your weariness, Steve helped manoeuvre you so you were lying on your side on the bed. He pressed a kiss to your sweaty brow before darting to the bathroom and coming back with a wet washcloth. He wiped down your face and chest, before gently cleaning you between your legs.

You smiled up at him.

“I must look a complete mess.”

He dropped another kiss on you, this time to your lips and shook his head.

“Nope. I meant what I said - you look beautiful. I don’t think I could want you more, and then I remember that once the babies are here you’ll be a certified MILF.”

You grabbed your pillow and threw it at him, but he easily avoided it.

“Perv!”

He dropped down, facing you, tangling your legs together and dropping an arm over your thickened waist.

“Only for you, Omega. Only for you.”

He kissed you again, deeply this time, and stroked your hair until you fell asleep.

July 4th

You groaned, and rolled over, an outstretched hand reaching for your phone to check the time. The screen lit up, bathing your face in its glow and mocking you with its answer.

1:17

You let out another groan and shifted, trying to get comfortable. It was Steve’s birthday today and you were determined it was going to be a good one. If only this damn backache would calm down. You closed your eyes and willed your body to relax, which is of course when the twins decided to start up a kicking war with each other, with you caught in the crossfire.

You rubbed your palm over your bump, trying to calm them.

“Quit it, you two.” You kept your voice low, but having an Alpha with enhanced senses means that it didn’t matter how quiet you were. A hair covered arm, corded with muscle came over your bump and pulled you close to the human furnace connected to it.

“They causing you problems, ‘mega?” His voice was roughened from sleep as he pressed his lips to your mating scar.

“Just waltzing around in there.” You suddenly winced and rubbed your hand over your belly again. “Okay, that was a little hard. I’ll be having words with them when they come out. Let’s try and go back to sleep, so we can enjoy your birthday later on.”

You turned your head over your shoulder to give Steve a brief kiss, and then snuggled back against him, pulling the comforter up and hoping the heat from his body would soothe your back ache.

You woke up a few hours later as the sun started to rise, golden rays finding the gap between the curtains of Steve’s - your - compound apartment. Your back was still killing you and the twins were obviously headbutting your bladder. You were glad that your last scan showed both were head down, but sometimes you couldn’t make it 10 minutes between toilet visits.

You carefully pulled yourself from bed, noting that the time was only 4:33. At some point Steve had rolled away from you, and the comforter was tangled around his legs. The early morning sun lit up the hairs on his body with a golden sheen and you smiled to yourself, before waddling off to the bathroom at the insistence of your unborn children. By the time you’d finished and washed up, despite still being tired, you were too awake to go back to bed.

You slowly made your way from the bedroom to the small living room cum kitchen of Steve’s compound apartment. You got yourself a glass of water and took two tylenol, hoping to ease your backache. You then moved towards the TV, snagging the throw from the back of the sofa and rolling your birthing ball out from the wall with your foot. Settling down on the bouncy rubber, the throw draped around your shoulders, you switched on the TV, making sure the volume was down low, and started to channel hop. There was bound to be some kind of mind-numbing rubbish on that you could while away the hours with. Then you’d have a nice nap.

At 7am you were resigned to the fact that you weren’t getting a nap, and you had a sinking feeling that all your plans for today were getting put on hold.

Normally, Steve would have been up an hour ago, to get in his morning run, but he’d agreed to forego the alarm this morning, accepting your suggestion that he have a lie in. Theoretically you should still be there with him, ready to help him out when awoke, but it appeared that the universe, and your twins, had other plans.

You were walking laps of your living room and trying not to accept the fact that your backache and slight twinges had morphed into the early stages of labour when a painful tightening of your womb caused you to moan out loud. Before the sensation had even fully passed, Steve was by your side, an arm around your back and the other holding your hand. There was a look of panic on his sleepy face.

“Are you okay, baby? What’s going on?”

You raised an eyebrow and swayed from side to side, the movement helping to ease your discomfort.

“Steven Grant Rogers, I’m 35 weeks pregnant with twins. What do you think is happening?”

He looked at you and you looked at him, watching as the realisation hit him. The panic on his face didn’t lessen any. In fact, it seemed to get more intense.

“They’re coming? Now? We need to get you to the med facility!” He dropped your hand and ran back to the bedroom, still talking. You rolled your eyes and restarted your perambulations.

“We need your bag, and the pups’ bag. And my bag. I need to call Buck. And Sam. And Tony…”

He reappeared, hopping on one foot as he tried to pull his sweatpants up the other leg.

“Should I carry you? Or do you want to walk? Maybe we could do both? Oh, and you have to remember to breathe, and…”

“Steve. Alpha. Please shut up.”

He came to a grinding halt, watching you as you walked around him.

“It’s not that time yet, Steve. I spoke to the doctor about this last week. I need to wait until the contractions are regularly 2-3 minutes apart or until my waters break, whichever happens first. We’ve probably got hours to go yet. Now, relax, will you? Make your phone calls and get the bags near the door, but as the med facility is only on the other side of the compound, I don’t think we need to worry about getting there.”

Steve shook himself from his panicked stupor and moved back to your side, taking your hand and joining you in your circuit of the room.

“How are you so calm, Omega?”

You stopped and tugged on his hand to make him bend down so you could press your lips to his.

“Because I’m built for this, and because I will have the best Alpha by my side, supporting me. And let’s face it, if I’m squeezing your hands later, I’m not going to hurt you.”

The mental image made him laugh and he kissed you back.

“Bring it on, baby. Do your worst.”

20:05

“I’m never letting you and your knot near me ever again, Rogers! Aaaahhhh!”

You were on your hands and knees on the bed in the medical facility. One of Steve’s hands was trapped under yours - you weren’t letting him go anywhere! - and you were swaying back and forth as another contraction washed through you.

There was a midwife - Penny, a calming Beta - standing at the end of the bed, keeping an eye on proceedings, although to your mind she’d spent longer placating Steve’s fears than helping you through labour.

“I’m sorry, Omega. But you’re doing so well. And it will all be worth it when the pups are here. It won’t be long now.” He turned and looked behind you, towards Penny. “Will it?”

“No, in fact, Twin A is almost ready to be here, their head is starting to crown.” You turned your own head to look at her and she smiled at you. “So with this next contraction I want you to push as hard as you can, okay. And Mr Rogers, I need you to hold up that water bottle so Mama can take sips when she wants.”

It was a good thing your mate was a military man, because he didn’t hesitate, and just did what had been asked of him. You didn’t have long to appreciate it, however, as your next contraction hit.

“Here we go,” Penny said, brightly. “Give me a nice big push…

“What time is it, Steve?” You were exhausted, your eyes heavy and your blinks getting longer and longer. Your Alpha turned away from the window, where he was watching the fireworks explode across the sky. In his arms was a wrapped bundle with a scrunched up nose. An almost matching bundle was in the bassinet next to you.

Sarah and Joseph, after Steve’s parents.

“Just after 10pm. You should get some rest, Omega mine. I can’t believe how well you did. You made it look easy.”

You gave out a little snort.

“I can assure you, it wasn’t. And I’ll get some rest in a moment. But I need you to come here.” You held out your hand, beckoning him over. With baby Sarah in his arms, he perched on the edge of your bed, the biggest smile you’d ever seen on his face. You pushed yourself up and pulled him into a kiss.

“Happy Birthday, Steve. I hope you liked your presents.”

“The best presents I could ever wish for, Omega. Thank you.”

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @marvelstarker-mha98 @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

#alpha!steve x omega!reader #alpha!steve rogers #nomad!steve #nomad steve x reader #late writes #Steve Rogers birthday #steve rogers fluff #pregnancy fic

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cevansbaby-dove · 1 month

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The Best Birthday Gift part 2

Pairing:Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Nothing but hurt and a touch of fluff.

You woke up the next morning to steve's arm draped over your stomach. You smile as you watch him sleep.

You lean over and kiss his cheek then climb out of bed and your legs are like jelly so you land on your butt. thud!

Steve sits up fast. "Who's there!?" He looks around you and hold your hand up. "It's just me..sorry" You push yourself up and sit on the bed. "You did a number on me Cap"

Steve moves over to you. "here I got ya"

You place your hand on his shoulder as you stand and he grabs your hips so you don't fall. "Good morning baby"

You smile. "hi handsome man" He kisses you and says. "So um..will we get questions about this?"

You smile. "Maybe but if they ask us anything we just say I fell asleep in your bed..."

Steve helps you to your room down the hall and he says. "We could be more then a one time thing if you want...I mean..uh..i'm down for it"

You turn and lean on the door frame. "I'll think about it Rogers, thanks again for last night"

He kisses you and says. "See you down there" You close your eyes feeling his beard lightly touch your cheek.

"yes sir" He smiles and walks away. You sigh and walk into your bed room and grab shorts and a shirt and put it on and you take your pill and walk down to the kitchen and Steve is talking to Tony. "Well how was your birthday y/n?" You hear tony ask you as you walk in with a slight smile.

"Good" You grab a cup and Steve is next to you and he whispers in your ear. "I still remember how your mouth tastes"

Tony look up from his newspaper. "What was that?" You turn around. 'Nothing um..the coffee doesn't taste good to Steve"

You smack his arm lightly then he says. "ok ok sorry" He hears Nat and Wanda walk into the kitchen.

"Morning ladies" Nat hugs you. "ugh we are the worst friends ever! I am so so sorry we couldn't be there yesterday"

You smile as you hug her than Wanda. "it's alright girls we will make time in a few days for our day out"

Steve coughs lightly making you look at him with a smirk. "Come on girls we should hang out"

Tony says. 'She and Rogers came in soaked last night they were out in the storm, thank God my rug is clean now"

Nat looks at Steve. "Oh God are you two sick now?" You shake your head. "No we're fine nat" You grab the girls hands and walk away before Steve can say anything.

Steve sighs watching you walk away. Tony says. "What's up Cap?" Steve shakes his head. "Nothing Tony" He takes a sip of his coffee then says. "can I ask you something?"

"Sure man, what's up?" Tony sits at the counter. Steve leans on the counter. "It's about y/n" Tony sighs. "You two fucked didn't you?" Steve's eyes go wide. "Language Tony!"

"well? Didn't you? You know the walls aren't thin..." Steve feels his cheeks go red even under his beard he still blushes. "Well uh...we uh.." he rubs his neck feeling awkward. "yes..."

Tony smiles. "About damn time You found her that way!" Steve blinks. "What?" "She's been super flirty with you and you always looked past that...I'm happy for you Rogers"

You and The girls sit on your bed and Nat says. "So what did you two do?" You smile. "um well we went out for a nice dinner then we went bowling and girls he needs help learning! he thought hitting one pin was a strike! and I won the bowling"

You laugh. "Um then we came back and I wanted to stay in the storm and he asked me to dance with him..."

Wanda says. "In the rain!?" Nat says. "Oh my God that's sweet!!" You giggle. 'yes um then he uh kissed me and the end!"

Nat gives you a questioning look. 'THE END!? Just one kiss and that's it? Y/N...are you hiding something from us?"

You shake your head. "No...I mean uh...I don't um.." Wanda says. "She is hiding something! Come tell us girl!" You laugh. "We had sex?"

Wanda and nat's jaws drop and you say. "it's only one time we are still friends...."

Wanda says. "friends!? how the fuck are you friends after you two...you two...fucked!?"

Nat says. "Friends....with benefits! Oh my God it's about time someone had him rail someone!"

You say. "Sh! tony doesn't know about it..please do not tell him"

Wanda says. "Oh yeah no we won't tell him right Nat?" Nat glances at Wanda smirking. "Won't tell him" You look at them and say. "You two suck at lying"

Nat says. "And you suck at keeping secrets" You smile. "Well..I wasn't sure if Steve wanted to have it out about last night..but I can't lie to my girlssss" You pull them in for a hug and giggle.

Steve hears you girls walk out of the room and your eyes meet and you send him a warm smile and Tony turns in his chair and says. "Oh hello y/n Steve tells me how great your birthday was"

You look at Steve and say. "Um..excuse me?" Tony pours himself a drink and nods. "Hmm hm the walls aren't thin" You feel your face turn red and Wanda says. "Damn I thought we only knew about you two...wow"

Steve says. "ok ok back off all of you please. This was just a one time thing it's not going to happen again." he walks to you."Right?"

You stood there frozen, you loved him but then again the words that just came out of steve's mouth didn't make it sound like he felt the same about you...You bite your lip holding back tears and say. "ri...right it's nothing"

Nat says. "Rogers! why the fuck would you say something like that?" You shake your head and walk out of the kitchen. "What did I say?' Steve said.

Nat sighs. "you just hurt her feelings saying it's nothing..damn man learn us girls! we don't do that just out of lust!"

She storms away and you hear her say behind you. "Sorry about him" You wipe away tears and say. "he's right...it's nothing big..it's just a hook up...nothing more"

Nat sighs. "y/n I can tell when someone is in love and you really do love him don't you?" You nod then face her. "but clearly he doesn't feel the same way"

You scoff. "Just let me be alone" Nat places her hand on your shoulder. "i'm here if you ever need" You nod. "Thanks but I want to be alone" She nods and walks away.

You walk into the training room and grab a gun and think maybe staying sharp will take your mind off of last night..

Bang Goes the gun. Steve's lust filled eyes flash into your mind. You press your lips together loading the gun again. Bang!

You remember how he kissed your neck. You roll your eyes. "Y/n get it together!" you said out loud.

Steve's eyes were on you and you didn't have to turn around to know that. "Come here to say how what we did last night didn't mean anything to you?" You shot another round.

Steve shakes his head. "I'm sorry I didn't think you felt that way about me" You set the gun down and turn to face him.

"Your right Steve...I guess you fucked me just to feel something uh? well don't worry it won't happen again"

You turn to walk away from him when he lightly grabs you arm.

Your eyes meet his and he says."Y/n last night was incredible but it can't happen again, we can't... it was a mistake to do that"

You say. "a mistake!? Oh I'm sorry if I fucked up your night by being nice to you! jesus Christ fine you know what!? I'm done...I am so done being nice to you now let go of me before I hurt you"

Steve drops his hand. You then say. "Stay away from me from now on!" You walk out and tell Tony, "i'm going out I can't stand it here!" You grab your car keys and Tony says. "Lovers fighting?" You turn. "we aren't lovers tony! Steve said it himself its was a mistake"

You slam the door and get into your car and drive away fast.

Last that day Steve gets a call from someone.

"hello?'

"is this Steve Rogers?"

"yes who is this?"

"My name is Kathy um someone here got into a crash and said to call you her name is y/n...do you know her?" Steve grabs his car keys and rushes out of the tower. "Is she ok?"

"Yes she was t-boned by a drunk but she's on her way to the ER" Steve gets into his car and says. "i'm on my way now thank you" the lady says. "you're welcome"

Steve drives away at a fast speed and lets the team know what happened and Nat says. "We're on our way too oh God did the lady say if y/n was hurt badly??"

"She didn't say God I hope she's ok" Steve runs a red light and then gets to the ER 20 minutes later. He rushes through the sliding doors and looks around. No sign of you anywhere.

Steve walks to the front desk and asks about you and if you were brought in yet. "Yes she is in the ICU she has a few broken ribs and major head trauma."

Steve takes off for the ICU he was now panicking that you might not make it.

Steve walks through doors and then sees the word ICU in a big letters. He makes a mad dash to the doors and sees a Doctor. "Hi um I'm looking for y/n l/n, she was in a car accident."

The doctor nods. "She's in surgery right now she had to be rushed in" Steve's eyes fill up with tears God he was beyond worried about you now.

Steve sits down in the waiting room hoping and praying you'd pull through this.

A/n:Oh no! Reader is in the ICU!! 😱 What will happen next!? Give me your guesses in the comments below :)

Tags:@cutedisneygrl @nicoline1998enilocin @patzammit @armystay89 @bookishtheaterlover7 @eva-knits12 @katherineswritingsblog

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slytherinshua · 12 days

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LATE NIGHT KISSES

genre. fluff. warnings. lots of kissing just so much of it. sleepy shirtless doeui </3 and mention of food (potatoes & peanuts). pairing. doy x fem!reader. wc. 806. request. combined 2 ideas from @eternalgyu: req 1 & req 2. a/n. brainrot leave me alone ISTG i cannot handle doy any longer skdjsk <//3 i swear i'm gonna write for the other members too working on some fics for them currently but doy is just occupying all available brain space i have and every single thought in my brain god.

Doeui didn’t know what time it was when his eyes blinked open after his body shivered for the fifth time. He didn’t know how long he had slept, or where you had gone, or when you’d be back, or why you had left the warm bed (and taken the warmth along with you). But he knew you were gone and he was cold, so he heaved his body up and padded his feet towards the kitchen.

There was no other possible place you could be in the middle of the night besides the bathroom, and he found you searching through the cupboards under the dim glow of a lamp from the living room. Another shiver travelled up his spine, motivating him to step forward and wrap his arms around your waist, craving for the warmth of your body. You gasped from the chill of his body— his bare chest hitting your back as his cheek rested on your shoulder.

“You’re freezing, love.” You said, turning around in his arms, abandoning the peanuts you had been eating out of the bag while you waited for the tater tots to crisp up in the airfryer. “Why didn’t you grab a shirt before coming out here?”

“Didn’t think about it. Just wanted to find you.” He whined, burying his face in your shoulder, rubbing his head against your skin like a sleepy kitten. He was so tired, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep without you.

“Well, I’m glad you did.” You giggled, fluffing his hair and rubbing your hand in loving circles to warm up his bare back. “I’m just making a snack, it’s almost done and then we can go back to sleep.”

He hummed, the tiredness from just waking up making his voice much deeper than it usually was. You walked forward slowly, guiding him to follow your steps until his waist hit the back of the counter. He pushed himself on top of it almost as if second nature— having spent so much time using the counter as his personal seat. He clung to your pyjama shirt with one hand, not wanting you to step away from him again.

“Baby, I’ll be back in half a second. Promise.” You reassured him with a quick kiss to his forehead before stepping back. The airfryer beeped quietly, signalling that your food was done. You transferred the warm crispy pieces of potatoes into a bowl, and were back to hugging Doeui within half a minute.

“You’re so tired. Why don’t you just go back to bed now?” You asked, eyebrows falling as you watched him yawn and rub his eyelids, barely even having the energy to open them. His usual bright wide eyes were half closed and hazy as drowsiness still clung to him. He just shook his head firmly and reached for your hand, snaking your fingers with his gently but securely. He giggled when you squeezed his hand, the sound much like a child discovering something new and exciting.

It was a habit of your boyfriend’s to be a bit clingier when tired. When you came to pick him up from his studio, he clung to you like a koala, refusing to let go of your hand even in the car. He craved affection when his brain was low energy, and you were more than happy to shower him with it.

You munched the first tater tot in your mouth, humming in satisfaction as it perfectly satiated your late night cravings. You held up one of the potatoes for your boyfriend, popping it into his mouth as soon as he let his lips fall open. He smiled at the taste of the perfectly warm, savoury, slightly salty potato, and you couldn’t help but kiss the slight dimple on his cheek.

Since you could hardly be asked to stop with just one kiss to the cheek, you quickly trailed down, pressing sweet warm kisses on his neck until you reached his collarbone.

You would’ve stopped there, but you could feel Doeui squeeze your hand tightly, opening his eyes just slightly to look at you. You could tell immediately that he wanted you to continue, and so you did. Gentle loving kisses were placed all over his collarbone and shoulders, and then back up the other side of his neck until you finally reached his lips. You made this kiss last a bit longer, savouring the sweet taste of his lips, a hint of salt still on them from the food.

“Let’s go back to sleep, hm?” You suggested after finishing the last piece of potato. Doeui nodded in agreement, but still puckered his lips for one last kiss, which made you giggle. “I already kissed you a thousand times. You still want more?” You teased, making him laugh softly.

“Just one more.”

↳ nomad taglist: @eternalgyu

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arczism · 1 year

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THE SUN ENDING

#kerry eurodyne #cyberpunk 2077 fanart #cyberpunk #cyberpunk2077 #i draw like crazy #sorry i gotta be fast before i get bored #and i gotta draw everything i want to #also ive read so many fluffy vxkerry fics i couldnt stop myself #pure fluff #my art #cyberpunk v #nomad v #v x kerry #vxkerry #nibbles

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eloquentreverie · 9 months

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𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞

pairing: nomad!steve rogers x female reader

warning: established relationship, p in v sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), steve being soft.

summary: Your soldier finally comes home to you in autumn.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

Autumn in New York always brings a sense of familiarity to Steve. There's that crisp, refreshing air, the leaves changing colors and falling onto the sidewalks of Brooklyn. It's a welcome sight for his war-torn mind. He takes one final breath as he approaches the apartment complex, cutting the engine and nudging the brake on the bike. He walks up the steps and makes his way into the building. The scent of hot cider hovers in the air as he walks in the door, scanning the room for his girlfriend.

He can't help but grin when he spots her nestled in a chair by the window, cozy under a red and black plaid blanket. He knows waking her up is wrong, but being away has been challenging. His heart skips a beat as his knuckles lightly brush against the apples of her cheeks. It's been a while since he's been able to see her, and he can't help but want to touch her now.

Y/N's eyes flutter open, and despite her blurry vision, she can make out the shadowy image of the man bent over her. "Steve?" Y/N whispers, staring in disbelief. Steve greets her with a warm smile and gently brushes his knuckles against her jaw. "Hey, sweetheart!" Y/N's eyes widen, and she throws her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. He holds her close, wrapping his strong arms around her back. A warm, tingly feeling spreads through her body. Taking a moment to cherish the moment, she sinks her fingers into his tousled hair before pulling away slightly to study his face.

It's not a dream, and he's there. "You're really here," she whispers, her voice filled with disbelief and joy. His warm hand holds hers, and they lean their foreheads together, breathing each other in. "I'm here," Steve promises, his voice low and gentle. He leans towards her, and their lips meet in a tender, soft kiss. The warmth in his breath and the gentle touch of his lips fill Y/N with sweetness and hope.

He wants to hold her close, to feel her skin against his, to embed the moment in his memory and replay it repeatedly in his mind. Y/N pulls away for a moment, looking up at him and noticing the smeared lip gloss on his mouth, a small giggle escaping her lips. It reminds Steve that they're real, that this moment is real, and that she's really here with him.

"What? What is it?" Steve asks, brushing her curls from her face.

Y/N's voice is a mix of happiness, relief, and the tiny edge of sadness that always follows joy. "I've been dreaming of this. Touching you, seeing you again... I missed you so much." With those words, she feels a warm glow in her chest, a sense of coming home. Steve cups her face, his lips meeting hers again with a tender warmth that seems to sink into her bones. His hands slide up and down her waist, and she breathes in his scent, reveling in his closeness.

She pulls away again, her lips twisting into a big smile. She takes his hands in her own, her gaze laced with love and deep admiration for her super-soldier. "How long can you stay?" Her voice is soft, almost inaudible. She tries not to assume the worst, scolding herself for thinking too far ahead instead of cherishing this moment. But it's been so long since she's had this moment with him that she can't help but feel worried that it might be fleeting. And if it is, she wants to prepare herself for the heartbreak that always comes with his departure.

Steve gives her a sympathetic grin, his rough and calloused hand still caressing the supple skin of her cheek. "I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart. I’ll never leave you again. I promise," he tells her, leaning down to leave a kiss on her forehead in an attempt to calm her nerves. “I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if I have to. I love you.”

She takes a deep breath, one she hadn't realized she'd been holding in all this time, and chuckles, shaking her head. "Gosh, this still feels so unreal. You don’t have to make anything up to me. What matters is that you’re here." The words seem to hang in the air for a moment before she looks down at their now intertwined hands. "You look tired. Do you need to rest, or do you want some food? I could cook us up something."

A wave of exhaustion washes over him, and he rubs his temple as a headache grows. He'd been so caught up in the moment, adrenaline and happiness rushing through his veins that he'd hardly realized how tired he was from the recent battle. “I'd like that very much, sweetheart,” he murmurs quietly, his hand falling from her cheek as he pulls away for a moment, glancing toward the kitchen. “Do you need me to help you out?” he asks, his brows pulled together as he looks down at her.

She pauses, noticing his tired eyes and exhausted demeanor. A small pout forms on her lips as concern washes over her features. “Steve, are you sure? If you want to take a nap right now, we can always eat later.”

A soft sigh escapes him before he nods, a small smile curling on his lips. “You're right. I'm just happy to be with you again. I'm so worn out, darling, but I'd rather be here with you than anywhere else.” He whispers quietly, closing his eyes and shrugging. His rough, calloused fingers grip her chin, and his gaze shifts to her lips.

“Well, how about this?” she begins, reaching out and taking his hands in hers. “Why don’t we take a nap together? Then, when you’re rested, we can have dinner. Sound good?” She asks, still speaking in a soft tone as she tugs on his arm, pulling him toward their bedroom.

“That sounds perfect,” he nods, a grin spreading across his face. He wants nothing more than to hold her in his arms. He can’t remember how many nights he’s dreamt about touching her, holding her. Steve follows her into the bedroom, his grin only widening. Everything is right where he left it. The smell of fresh linen greets him, along with gray blankets and ivory sheets, the wooden nightstands adorned with picture frames of the two of them. To the right is his desk, which is a mess of papers and his old sketchbooks.

Y/N walks a few steps toward the dresser and starts rummaging through some of his old clothes. After a few moments, she pulls out a worn blue t-shirt and some gray sweatpants. She can feel Steve’s gaze on her before she looks up. He takes in her outfit: a dark green t-shirt, a gray cardigan, and black sweatpants. His eyes move up to her face, her curls brushing against the top of her shoulders. He traces her features, engraving them into the back of his mind forever. His expression is filled with love and adoration for her.

After a few minutes, she turns to him and hands him his clothes. “Thank you, Y/N.” He sets down the pile of clothes on top of the dresser before he begins to strip down. He starts with the gun holster, then his utility belt. She tries not to get distracted as she pulls down a few of the covers, but then she notices his tired fingers fumbling with the buckle of his trousers.

“Here, do you mind if I?” Her words hand in the air and as she looks up. She smiles, placing her hands over his. Their eyes lock. Steve gives her a gentle nod, and she undoes the belt and unzips his pants. She takes his hand and leads him to the bed. Once there, they both climb into bed, their bodies tangled together as they cuddle.

Slowly, the rhythm of his breathing changes and she listens to him as he begins to drift off. As soon as the room falls silent, she looks up, focusing on the ceiling, and listens. Then, her fingertips dance over his torso as she tries to commit to memory the moment they were sharing together. A moment, she didn't want to end. Steve sighs into her, his hand traveling up and down her back until she feels his lips land a light kiss on her forehead and she hears his whispered 'I love you.' Y/N sinks deeper and settles against his chest, eyes growing heavy, until she finds the sleep they both need.

The two finally settle into a deep and blissful slumber. Unbeknownst to the super soldier, it will be the greatest sleep of his life. The two of them rested until late evening. The sun had set and she groaned as she stirred from her slumber, her stomach growling. Her eyes fluttered open, feeling his arms still tightly wound around her waist. A smile rested on his lips as she pecked his cheek. "Wake up, Stevie," she whispered in his ear, eliciting a hum from him as his eyes creaked open. "How about breakfast, lunch and dinner in bed?" He smiled brightly and got on top of him.

Steve leaned on his elbows as she giggled at him. Her lips were pursed, thinking if she should let him get his way. And in the end, she decided to give in. "Alright, fine. You stay here and I'll go cook us some dinner." She tried getting off him, but her mission proved quite difficult for the blond hero, gripping her tight so that she wouldn't slip off. Y/N could feel his cool blue gaze baring into her. Her face was hot and crimson. And he did everything that he possibly could to make her want him back, want to stay and have him touch her all over. "Not just yet. One more kiss," he demanded, his tone low and husky.

With an exasperated huff, Y/N threw her hands in the air. She knew that it wouldn't end here, and once Steve got her all hot and bothered, he wouldn't leave her alone until she was done. Until he's had her several times to the point that she was utterly spent. Y/N felt Steve's fingers crawl underneath the hem of her shirt. "Steve," she whined with a small laugh. "I'm hungry."

With this statement, the superhero propped himself up on his elbows and cocked a brow, licking his lower lip. A subtle movement to entice her. "And I'm horny."

Groaning once more as he touched her, she nearly gave in, wanting nothing more than to strip him bare, jump on him and screw him till sundown, and that was saying a lot. But before that happened, the both of them needed nourishment before the ravenous wolf inside him turned on her. She gently pushed his hands away, grinning down at him. "After dinner. I need to have my strength if we're going to do strenuous activities. Right?" she teased before pulling away and rising from the bed. Y/N grinned even more at the way his face fell and the small frown that marred his pretty boy face, looking as if someone kicked his favorite puppy. As she walked towards the bedroom door, his hand jutted out.

"Why not just grab some chips? Isn't that good enough?" The blond practically pleaded as she got ready. Y/N gave his toned frame a mischievous glance over her shoulder and smirked. "So impatient. I think I'm gonna need more than chips. Looks like you're just going to have to wait." She ran a hand down his bare chest before slipping out of his grasp and walking toward the kitchen.

Steve sighed, shaking his head but then, a light bulb went off in his head. If she was going to make him wait then he'd do everything in his power to tease her.

Meanwhile, Y/N worked on warming up leftover chicken pot pie in the oven. For the first time in months, she could enjoy some downtime in their home, not having a care in the world except Steve and her alone together. When it was his first arrival home after months of her dealing with the trauma, her heart, and mind swirled with emotions. After weeks of trying to accept what he was doing for others while giving no regard to his own well-being, her annoyance soon gave away. But no matter what, he always showed that her well-being is what is most important to him, constantly worrying about her needs, always finding ways to be a part of her life regardless.

Her thoughts took the best out of her. All it did was make her think about what happens when he's not here, when her dreams and wishes collide with reality. As she pondered about her life before Steve, he snuck up behind her and pulled her toward him. In an effort not to frighten her, he reached out and moved her curly locks over her shoulder and placed his mouth next to her ear, planting kisses on the curve of her jaw, inching his mouth down to the base of her neck.

"You smell so good." he complimented her. "It's intoxicating. The moment you left the bed, I just couldn't resist. I got up immediately and followed you all the way here. Did you know that?" Y/N turned off the oven after noticing the golden brown color of the pastry, closing her eyes as he grazed his mouth with hers. She turned around to face him and held his gaze.

"You're being distracting," she said with a small grin, wrapping her arms around his neck. She felt the heat of his bare chest radiating against her tank top. "I can see that." Steve leaned toward her again, whispering softly.

"But I don't think you really have any control of what I'll do to you right now. You had your fun waking me up all by yourself. And now, you don't seem so excited to keep the fun going. I think I'll have to convince you." His teeth grazed the skin underneath her jaw, lightly sinking into her soft flesh. Y/N could hardly keep herself from moaning, feeling all of her nerve endings firing up from the way his hands wandered all around her body, focusing solely on pleasuring her. She could almost get lost in his hypnotic voice, only drawing her attention from his gentle bite on her neck.

Steve licked where he bit, massaging her hips with a glimmer of pure desire shining in his crystal blues. "We could have so much more fun somewhere more private..." he murmured against her neck. Y/N brought him closer to her, entangling her fingers in his blonde locks. Steve met her half-lidded gaze and smiled mischievously. "So what'll it be, princess? Your bed or the floor?"

Moments like these always remind him why he fights so hard. How just those sparkling doe-eyes make every battle worth every bruise, scar, and cut.

A small smirk crept up on her face. She turned off the stove before walking back to him. "Our bed." she responded before she poked his chest, "but you owe me real food afterward." She warned, her eyes filled with mirth. Steve chuckled softly, kissing her. The woman instantly melted into his loving embrace.

"So you'd rather lie in our bed while you devour me in whole? Now how does that sound like a loss? Sounds like the only win if I have any say in this." His lips collided with her jaw before leading her backward towards the bedroom. Her heart is beating rapidly, anticipating his next touch. "Just hurry before you miss the real feast." she managed to blurt out. He never makes her wait long. Never does, especially right now.

Steve crashes his lips on hers, kissing her hard with their hands frantically exploring the other. Once he's sure they're too preoccupied, he lets one arm leave her waist for a split second. Y/N thought nothing of it until she heard the soft click of their bedroom lock as she moaned into the kiss. He pushes her further inside, backing her towards their massive queen-size bed, nearly stumbling over it as the edge hits the back of her knees. Steve breaks the kiss to hold her up. "Sssh baby, just lie on your back, I've got you." She swallowed hard and slowly lowered down, resting her head on his pillows. "You didn't have to lock the door." Y/N felt somewhat silly as her face was heated, and she noticed he'd locked the door after.

"It's not you. I did that, because I don't want anything else," he uttered. The lights illuminate his features, reflecting like an angel before her very eyes. Her hair splayed out on their soft and inviting linen, gazing back up at Steve as he straddles her, kissing down her neck and chest as he starts to tear away her sweatpants.. "All I want in my life is you and nobody else. So for one night, I'll block out the rest."

He'd rid her of the black pants, and threw them across the room in a fury. "You're the only one I crave on these cold autumn nights." Steve grinned as his fingers traced her inner thigh, so close yet so far away from the spot between her legs that craves his attention the most.

"Steve," He gazes at her through thick golden lashes. She reaches forward and clasps his face between her dainty fingers. Y/N doesn't need words, she's known this all along. They only ever want to do right by one another and each day she is filled with more and more love to shower him. "Show me then. Show me that I'm the center of your universe." she gasps as his eyes meet her's, laced with pure lust. His head was practically in-between her legs now, her arousal smelling just as sweet as it tasted as she spread her legs and lay flat on the mattress.

The warm orange light illuminated the curve of her face as his vision drunkenly scans from the crown of her head all the way down to the bend in her knee before his hands sweep beneath her soft supple flesh to prop up the back of her leg.

A sharp gasp of excitement filled the room the moment his head dipped between her thighs. The sensation shot down her spine, eliciting goosebumps to crawl along her exposed flesh. He keeps them hooked in his arms, forcing her hips to press firmly against his mouth. A soft squeak eked from her lips once his tongue wedged itself between her slick entrance and his upper lip before pecking a trail of small kisses to her sensitive bundle of nerves, just the mere breath coming from his soft thin lips causing it to quiver with pleasure.

She can almost hear her heartbeat pulsating through her temple. The sweet ecstasy runs straight from her womb to her toes, intensified each time he dips his tongue inside to taste her again, knowing all of the right places to lick her like a peach dripping from its juices. One hand crawls back up her quivering thighs and brushes over the folds of her labia, squeezing them between his teeth in unison with his skilled tongue.

She wasn't the least bit prepared when a finger entered her wet cunt. He thrusts, pumping two digits inside of her without warning, and she quivers, becoming unable to hold herself up any longer as she lies limp from the magic that coursed through her body. His hair tickled her skin while he fucks her with his mouth and fingers, her body responding with pleasure beyond comparison. He pauses briefly, inhaling her natural aroma and basking in her heavenly essence, and whispers into her heat, "Don't cum until I say so."

Y/N sucks in a breath as his velvety voice dances along her senses before Steve closes the space between his mouth and her aching center once more. "Don't worry, I'll make it happen." Steve winked while his tongue swept her cunt again, beginning a slow, teasing dance upon her sensitive bud. He turns his wrist slightly to plunge another thick finger, tucking it along the others while the muscle around him trembled and clamped like a vise.

As his fingers pumped within the confines of her trembling flesh, the rough part of his lips glides smoothly over the smoothness of hers. Her breaths turned erratic from his relentless pleasurable torture, teetering on the edge until he finally decides she's earned her right to cum all over his fingers. Her hand shot out in search of his, gripping onto him tightly with all of her might as though their lives depended on it.

He strokes the fleshy bit on the roof of her inner walls, pushing against it over and over again, using the stiff tip of his tongue to roll over the plump nub. He wants her. He always does. All of him and all of his heart. Witnessing the woman he loves let herself go right in front of his eyes like an explosion of fire is enough for him. A complete revelation.

He takes great care to lower her body, which had risen on its own accord the more he stroked the source of her pleasure. His lips would occasionally lose their purchase on her soaking clit in the moments between, but he would always kiss his way back to her heated center, regaining a steadier rhythm again and again. It was with another tender flick of the tongue that her pleasure overtook and washed away the last remnants of awareness, leaving her a writhing mess of sweat-beaded skin and high-pitched mewls.

Y/N sighed with a shaky breath. Steve swallowed every drop as he drank deep of her sweet juices.

Her fingers brushed through her lover's hair as her mind attempted to find a solid anchor in the tumultuous sea of her orgasm. His pace relents just enough, and his eyes slide up to check on the boneless pile. The blond-haired male kissed a smoldering path to her belly button before pulling up the hem of her tank top and over her head before his mouth found one of her breasts. As his mouth opened around one breast, his teeth sunk into it before rolling the nipple within her warmth. "Just one moment, sweetheart,"

A soft groan escaped her mouth. Her entire body writhed against him, trapped between the relief she felt and the anticipation of having to wait any longer. In her state, it was impossible for her to register the meaning of his words, but she would surely have nodded to even an insincere affirmation.

"Steve, I can't wait any longer. I need you." she croaked between ragged breaths. Her trembling hands run through his soft golden hair, playing with his strands in the heat of the moment. He chuckled quietly at her whines, pausing to savor the beauty lying under him.

After kissing her stomach, he lifted his head with a wide grin on his face. Patience, pretty girl, we're only beginning. I wanna take my time. Taste and kiss every square inch of your body."

The dark look in his sapphire-blue eyes made the tightness inside her almost unbearable, but the thought was more than welcomed. Before she could so much as respond to his words, his teeth dug in her plump flesh again, drawing a strained hiss as he sucks it back into his hot mouth, soothing the nip immediately after.

His pace was agonizingly slow at the sight of his darling below him, glistening in the orangey hue. It was painful, yet in an entirely delicious manner, she tried with her will not to explode on him right there and then.

"Patience," He repeated before lifting her leg with his hand before bending her knee. Gently, and still with all the sensuality in the world, and trailed light nips and kisses all along the side of her knee. Y/N's fingertips comb through his hair before resting upon the broadness of his shoulder. "You don't get to see this view enough."

What he gives her, the loving admiration he has to offer, no one would ever compare. No one but him, who always, and forevermore will own her whole heart, unconditionally and in the good times. Y/N never questioned this in the slightest. They have a perfect love, so rare and unknown to many in a cruel world.

"But God help me." he said, now slowly inching up towards her stomach, trailing up with wet kisses, his eyes still admiring the smooth curves and hills of her body, completely bare beneath him. "How I wanna feast on you forever. And feel the sweet ache of your body after, just in case I forget... I want to remember all of it, sweetheart."

Steve hooked a hand around her midsection and lifted her body up and off the sheets, helping her on top of him in one smooth movement. Just as he guided her, a firm yet gentle grip on her arm, holding her hand behind his neck as he encouraged her body up to him, as she easily straddled his broad and naked form.

Y/N's forehead pressed into his collar, lips lightly ghosting and gasping with each one. The unyielding rock of their pelvis' rocking in synchrony, the grip she'd regained on him returned, fingers digging into his shoulder and with the other on his hair, massaging him between soft murmurs.

"Yeah?" His fingertips slid up and down, mapping and massaging the tense muscles between her shoulder blades, dragging over and cupping the base of her neck on each upward pass. As he traveled up to the nape, he simultaneously nuzzled her ear, moving up so that his stubble scratched the thin layer of skin there, and carefully applied pressure that soothed the raw sensation away.

She was drunk, beyond words, nothing was going to fix the raw burn her vocal cords received any time she cried out too soon. All the same, she was right where he wanted her. "Mhm." the low rumble of her lover's voice against her warm skin confirmed, one hand finding its way over hers and twisting in her locks, wrenching her face away from her solace and kissing her more aggressively than before.

Y/N matched it's hunger and was the first to take the lead. His efforts had been thoroughly noticed and enjoyed. Steve reciprocated her actions, but was too focused on her legs straddled above his. "See that?" His voice was hoarse and his tone smug.

He slipped a finger past her folds, savoring her wetness in the absence of her mouth, and she knew just as she threw her head back the exact scene he'd mentioned. All but his length, and the hand caressing and parting her legs, and her movements riding along. Only barely able to keep from crying out as the feeling took over her senses again.

But she did her damnedest not to keep that visual from him as her legs continue riding, his length sliding across his stomach in tandem. He was warm and slick, the same salty tang from his skin on her tongue a beautiful echo of her own wetness, mixing and joining in unison when she dragged herself back up, rocking her weight backward over his cock, shuddering as her own arousal came full circle and grazed her clit.

She was fast and efficient when her patience came to an end. Slick as ice, and just as impatient. He slid deep inside her when her grip took a firm handle on his rigid form. Even with the slippery mixture of fluids from her being, it took a steady rock against the head of his erection before her swollen and bruised labia gave way enough to slip his thick head in. "Baby, hold still." He'd sat forward, bringing the length of his torso against the malleable muscles of her thighs and ass.

She knew exactly how he was feeling now, his sounds a beautiful revelation of his ecstasy as it was, but it also drove her absolutely wild. Her face dropped back into his collarbone where it was a safe space for her. His hot breath beat in time with their skin against hers, creating a growing haze of dew that she burrowed her cheek to, whimpering as a smile grew from his gleeful grunts of his sweet girl fucking herself on his lap, sinking as deep as possible to fill him to her brim, just before doing it once more.

His hand landed at her side as his head fell backward to the pillows. As she continued to grind upon his throbbing cock.

"Fuck baby, you feel incredible." The pitch of his voice heightened slightly on the final syllable, and her knees wobbled in kind from the sound alone.

As his girth split her to her core she clung on. "I...It's s-so fuckin deep baby. Please...I d-don't think I c-can hold myself up."

Her hips faltered once, a weak moment lost as his fingers threaded in her hair. Instead of clutching him tighter, Y/N moved to touch the headboard and took the support given there instead. Pushing away, she held his eyes while she brought her ass backward and lifted up just enough, guiding his head against her entrance, and teased her hot folds in and out, up, then back in once more, letting a fresh wash of wetness trickle over her thighs and down onto his in an act so dirty and tempting and erotic she saw him falter and quake and dig in deeper for control to keep his place within her. It was one she hoped he never forgot. "Do I drive you crazy?"

"Mmm. You have no idea, darling." Steve laughed breathlessly with a wild look in his eyes. The telltale change had come and taken over his body language completely. She tried to tease him at the best of times, but tonight it had backfired.

The brief loss of contact made her aching womb stretch to full attention. The involuntary gasp emitting her lips pulled them both away. A chisel would not be as sharp as the bite of his nails as he grasped her hips again, seizing control with little restraint to do so.

Though he was rough, Y/N found great pleasure in it, just as her legs bounced at his sides. "Goddamn."

Her nails left trails down his chest and she's left scratching on his navel, as her voice gave up from the whimpers she'd done nothing to stifle. Steve pushed harder against her swollen and tingling opening, sinking to her womb with little room to breathe or think or put any kind of distance from his cock as their hips began a natural dance to keep themselves perfectly together and moving and pushing as one. He rolled and pushed and thrust upward until the last bit of air was knocked free from her lungs with the sudden slam.

A collection of various curses spilled through the room, no telling whose mouth had screamed or shouted until she bottomed out at his lap and buried his head under the press of her breast and fingers in the now dampened length of his hair. All coherent thought had stopped functioning altogether as he began to thrust himself and pound his girl like her heart would have exploded had he kept with his pace a moment later.

Nothing registered apart from his breathy and sporadic moans as he claimed her again and again in their own silent, little ritual, something sacred, like an engagement neither would dare reveal or show the other.

Eventually, she felt her body tense, a telltale sign she was on the edge. He groaned through gritted teeth as their movements quicken, pushing both to the limits of their physical stamina until, without warning,

"Shit!"

The climax shattered any hold she had of her thoughts, nerves exploding with a euphoric haze to render them both senseless. Y/N wrapped a quivering hand around his bicep as she used it for a grip. Her lips find the shell of his ear as Steve bucked his hips wildly beneath her. "Stevie...Steve..." she breathed in a delusional state, seeing lights, and feeling stars, all while keeping as much composure as she can. Though not very effective as the stream of her juices flooded her and her walls, pulsating at the intrusive thickness of his girth as it continues to pound recklessly as she continues her erratic screams and pleas to him.

Finally, she'd shattered. Coming completely undone. Free. To a man with his gaze fixed unblinkingly, a sheer sign of devotion, at her twitching body. The satisfaction was indescribable and everlasting. She collapsed beside him on the bed, trying to catch her breath. Her body curled against him. Her hand rested against his chest, his skin coated with a sheen of sweat, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing becoming steadier.

"Well, that escalated quickly," Y/N whispered before breaking into a fit of breathless giggles. Steve looks down on her fondly, loving her child-like demeanor and carefreeness after an intense session like that, before following in and matching her happy tone as they share a lazy, passion-fueled kiss in an equally lazy fashion. His own happy giggle tumbled over a soft smile. Y/N eventually rolled her head away with a faint huff.

His nose brushed the tender spot behind her ear, which caused her entire body to quiver from the shock and heat radiating on her neck. When he pressed another warm, open-mouthed kiss there, her breath hitched in her chest.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered. The warmth of his breath blew into the damp skin beneath his lips, sending another wave of goosebumps through her. Her skin was so sensitive. So raw. But oh so amazing. He spoke again, barely audible, as if he was having a conversation with himself. "I love you. I love you."

Y/N turned her head and peered at him through heavy lids. "I love you too," she cooed back, her voice hoarse.

Her head rested in the crook of his neck, and the two laid together, cuddled and content, the sound of their breaths and their heartbeats melding together. Y/N fell asleep before the last remnants of her high had faded, and Steve was still awake.

All night he lay, listening to the sound of her breathing until finally, he got the rest and relief he deserved in his sleep.

The next afternoon, the cold air nipped at their skin. The two of them sat in the park, watching the changing leaves fall. Steve's arm was draped over her shoulder as she sipped the warm cup of cider they had gotten from a vendor a few moments ago. A few minutes later, Steve broke the silence.

"I need to tell you something," he whispered, glancing off at the park's pond.

Y/N shifted beside him, concern written over her face, and placed the cup on the space beside her. "Is everything alright, Stevie?"

"These past few months have been hell without you, and I can't help but think of what the future brings. You make me feel alive. When I'm with you, I'm content. At home. And that's with or without you. I think I'd always want this forever," Steve paused, his tongue darting out to nervously lick his bottom lip, sending a familiar sensation crawling up her spine. He shifted, pulling a small black box out of his pocket. His breath caught, his eyes darting up to hers. "I know it's too dangerous right now, but I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

Y/N stared at him, her eyes widened with shock as tears started welling up in the corner of her eyes. Her hands covered her mouth. "Oh my god." Her heart thundered in her ears as he pulled the ring from the box, the silver band shimmering in the light, the white diamonds reflecting a bright glow. "Yes, Steve, yes! Yes, I'll marry you!" she cried out, throwing her arms around him.

The couple shared a deep, loving kiss, full of love and adoration for one another. "I love you, sweetheart," Steve murmured into her ear. "I'm never going to stop loving you. You're my forever. My home."

She pulled away, a wide smile stretching across her face. "I love you too, Steve. You have my heart, forever."

The two fell back into each other's arms, sharing a soft kiss as the leaves fell around them, envisioning their future together.

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x yn #nomad steve rogers #nomad steve rogers x you #nomad steve rogers x female reader #nomad steve rogers x yn #nomad steve rogers fanfic #nomad steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #smut and fluff #steve rogers oneshot.#mywritings.

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onsunnyside · 2 years

Text

⋆⁺ ☁︎ 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | nomad!Steve Rogers x reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, soft!Steve, nomad!Steve, neighbours-to-lovers, smut: sexual content (blink and you’ll miss it), angst, the blip: implied/mentioned characters (& reader) getting blipped

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | He’s a man on the run and you’re a chameleon soul, and if only things were as simple as they seem.

𝗪/𝗖 | 4.56K

𝗔/𝗡 | I realized I hadn’t written any angst yet, and as someone with a guilty pleasure of angsty fics, I was appalled. This is an au of where steve went while he was on the run, set between CACW and/after AIW. Heavily inspired by Lana Del Rey’s Video Games, Lucky Ones, and Ride (& the monologue). All mistakes are my own. [all asks]

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Everything surrounding you is mellow and comforting. The sun had long set, taking away those burning white rays, and leaving the humid summer air in its wake. You inhale once, and then again.

Behind you, he shifts, his cotton shirt is smooth against your back, and his foot brushes yours. Heat radiates from his skin and it soothes you in ways that words can neven describe.

Living like this feels like an art form itself, which only makes it ironic since you aren’t doing much at all.

You wonder if you blink, you’d slip back into that drift. It wasn’t a place, no, it was everywhere and in everything—to you, it was a state of being.

An inconsistent course of muted colours and blurred faces, forgettable names spoken in unique voices and memories that bounce between heavenly and awful. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy those moments in that drift.

You had always been a little wild at heart, and as you grew older, fewer and fewer things and people could keep you tamed, satisfied—still.

That obsession for wonder and freedom sent your life into a spiral that has landed you in cities all over the world, with people of all kinds. In a way, they are with you now, all those experiences have brought you here, and someday, this moment will bring you to another.

Hopefully, one with him.

He didn’t like when you spoke like that though, he wanted you to know he’d always be there. Most times, you found yourself believing him, and other times you let his voice play over whatever tune was stuck in your head.

Life was an open road, and him—he was a beautiful, vast garden on the side. And for the past year, you’ve been picking your collection of coloured petals to keep in your pocket. Every time you’d pick a flower, two more sprouts and, they’re always more intricate and stunning than the last.

A large part of you wanted to stay here forever, to be with him until you’re old and grey, and it took a few months for you to admit that to him. Not because of pride or fear, but because of false hope. You didn’t want to plant seeds of faith into his heart, only to crush the seedlings with the tires of your motorcycle.

“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.”

You cocked a brow, lowly muttering his name, “Grant, if that isn’t a way to doom a relationship, I don’t know what is.”

And he understood your hesitance, Steve was all too familiar with the style to up and run, hell, he did it for half a year before landing in this blip on a map.

That’s where you were similar. Of course, for different reasons—ephemerality is woven into your soul, while his was the cause of a circumstance and the fact that he was a wanted fugitive.

“—and postcards, lots of them,” Sam’s voice is equally excited and sorrowful, “and the nice ones, none of those crappy, flimsy ones that won’t survive the trip.”

Natasha is different, there is a tinge of happiness in her green eyes but her face is serious, deadly even. “Keep in touch, and I mean it. Hide all you want, I will find you if I have to.”

“You sure it won’t be the other way around?” Steve chuckled, embracing her tightly. “Something tells me you’ll both be off on a wild adventure soon… I hope you’ll tell me about it when we meet again.”

That was over a year ago. And since then, he’s sent dozens of postcards to them, each with short descriptions of his life in point-form, never going into too much detail. His old phone was tucked into his nightstand, it was only for emergencies since he could still be tracked if the government tried.

In this little town, life was good, simple with next to zero worries hovering over his head. Here is the sun was the most radiant.

You were a true ghost, if Steve could call you that, but that also meant you were a clean slate. A fresh start that he’s craved so deeply, a new beginning that he deserved.

You’ve been on the road for years and are a master hitchhiker, he knew that much. You’ve lost count of the miles, the places you’ve occupied and the souls you’ve met. You didn’t have a cellphone, a television, or read the newspaper. You had no clue who he was, what he’s done.

Although, the long hair and thick beard were to thank for that cluelessness as well.

No one in this town knew who he was, and with that, he was able to create someone new. Grant was someone untouched by the Avengers, the Accords and unscathed by any extraterrestrial existence. Just him. Only him. The sole performer and artist, creating his own story as he goes on.

“You aren’t even looking at the clouds, Grant.”

“I am,” he answers, that charming grin growing wider by the second, “they’re in your eyes.”

“I have clouds… in my eyes?”

“Yeah, c’mere and let me see if I can make anything from it.” He’s quick to pull you closer, his hands cupping your face. His blue eyes sear into yours, so full of adoration that it makes your knees a little weak.

You press your hands on his chest. There’s a faint thump beneath your fingertips, and it’s almost in time with yours. “See anything?”

“Hm? What?” He blinks, those thick lashes fanning across his cheekbones. “Oh, just got a little lost, you know…” His finger hooks under your chin, bringing you closer, “…in the clouds.” Your lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss.

The delicacy reels you in and silences those pessimistic voices, and now in the quiet, you follow willingly.

You’ve been hurt before but Grant—dearest Grant could destroy you with a single sentence. The worst part is that you don’t have to tell him for him to know, he was well aware of the effect he had on you, the way you’d fold if he asked. It was a foreign feeling you had never felt before, and it scared you.

You felt vulnerable with him despite the glass that has moulded to your skin, keeping you protected yet, within your own terms, exposed.

And him, he’s only ever made you feel safe and secure with that openness.

Blooming from that comfort, that freedom to mess up, be understood and be forgiven, is love. With stupid absolute, you’ve fallen in love with him.

Yet you don’t even know his real name. To you and this town, he’s Grant, to the rest of the world and planets in far places, he’s Steve Rogers.

“What’s got you actin’ so sweet today? Have you done anything that you suddenly regret?” You ask with a slight glare but there’s no heat behind it, nor your question.

“I may have forgotten to load the dishwasher before coming here… also think I forgot my ID, so if we get pulled over, you’ve got to do the talking.”

“Oh, as if Marco gives a crap about us all the way up here.” You turn away again, leaning on Steve who was sitting on the hood of his car. Below the cliffside is one of the smallest towns you’ve ever seen.

With a population in the low hundreds, one local school, bar and extremely limited contact with the rest of the world, it was a stark contrast to the big, sparkling cities you’ve experienced.

Definitely not stellar.

“Ugh, this town fucking sucks. It makes me wonder why I even stayed this long—not like anything is keeping me here anyway. No hot steamy year-long romance to keep me tied down.”

Steve laughs sarcastically, pinching your hip. “Ha, ha, baby, you ever think of doing stand-up?”

“Yeah, I’ve dreamt of it,” you play along as your head sinks into the crook of his shoulder, “but I think I’ll stick to my one-woman show at Jerry’s dingy bar.”

As if you could call it a show, it was more like grabbing the microphone between shifts and singing whatever new song the live band had learnt.

Over the years, you’ve picked up odd jobs in whichever city you landed in, and as for performing, you’ve done it before in motels, restaurants, and bars. Never staying too long to create a name for yourself, rather just leaving out of the blue like a fleeting moment, a fever dream to the citizens.

At the beginning of your journey and by your fifth city, you realized that temporariness fuelled that insatiable hunger for freedom.

Looking back, you acknowledge the variety of taste, colour, and sound. In that state of being, in that drift, you are truly alone because you are lost in it, and being without yourself within yourself is a scary thing. It’s something you’re all too familiar with from being on the road for so long.

“You just belong everywhere, huh?” Grant asked in awe at your endless array of stories from travelling the world, “Like a chameleon—you stay all the same, but change just enough to blend into wherever you are.”

“You talk about it like it’s a talent.”

“It is.” He sat up straight, running a hand through his hair. “Not everyone can survive anywhere at any time—let alone, be happy and thrive from it.”

You’ve always searched for a home, often making do with the kindness of strangers, but when you met Steve there was nothing else that could compare.

Being alone once is enough, and meeting new souls is magical but being in his arms for a few moments is unrivalled.

You loved that freedom, but you loved Grant—Steve more. Your commitment to him has stretched to a year, and despite becoming a recognizable face in this town, you don’t want to leave without him.

You’ve spoken about skipping town someday, you want to show him your favourite cities, and hopefully meet up with those kind strangers who have helped you in more ways than one, some of which you only know the first name of.

“We’ll always have tomorrow to decide.” You closed his notebook, ending his pros and cons list of travelling further East versus going up North. “And if we still can’t choose tomorrow, then we have the next day and the day after that. This free lifestyle doesn’t come with itineraries, Grant. When will you get that through your pretty head?”

Infinite time meant your obsession will never go unfulfilled—which also meant an infinite amount of time together, and endless chances to show Grant everything you want.

That’s the difference between the two of you.

You believe there is a tomorrow, there will be another opportunity to hold him like this, to feel his breath on your lips.

Steve knows different.

You live in the land of tomorrow while Steve lives in the present.

His bag is packed, his suit is laid out on the lumpy mattress and his plants have already been given to Mr. Carter who lives down the street, a kind old man who took them with a joyous grin.

“I knew it, you kids are finally getting out of here while you can.”

Kids, as if Steve wasn’t over a hundred years old.

Mr. Carter brought Steve in for a weak hug, his fragile bones only allowing so much. When he pulls away, his wrinkled hands gently cradle the potted plants. “Wish I was as wild as her. If I were young like you, I’d do the same thing,” he trailed off, pushing his glasses up his nose, “You are both lucky to do it together.”

Steve didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth and just nodded. “Yeah, luck.”

He hasn’t given up on you, nor what the both of you can create together. He’s postponing it—setting it in a box and stuffing it under his bed, he’ll be back for it, and for you. He’ll return once the world is repaired and he can finally formally retire.

Is it worth it to break his own heart, to break you, to protect the entire universe?

“Grant? What’s wrong?”

Steve is quick to make up a lame excuse of being tired because, of course, he can’t tell you.

He’s bitter about it—god, he’s allowed to be selfish sometimes. He’s given his life to the world and to the people who inhabit it, he doesn’t regret that but you, he’s been selfish for the past year by keeping you tucked away.

Not even Natasha and Sam know the details, all they know is that he found a reason to stay in the shittiest little town on the planet.

When his phone rang, he was surprised to hear Bruce, half-expecting and half-hoping for it to be Tony.

It didn’t take long for him to get into that mindset again, to be the captain that everyone needed. First on his list was to meet Natasha and Sam, they probably already know what happened in New York while you and this town couldn’t be more clueless.

That’s why he loved it here.

He wanted to take you with him, but he couldn’t consciously put you in danger. He was fortunate enough to be unrecognizable in this place and he can only imagine the shock when you realize who he really is.

You didn’t even know his last name, he was just Grant, the man who moved in next door and had accidentally got your mail one too many times.

He tried to drop it off one afternoon but you never answered, so he scrapped the idea of respectful introductions and slipped it under your door. This went on for a few weeks, he learnt a bit about you—your name, and how you had plenty of friends from so many different places.

It made him wonder why you chose a town so tiny it fits into the palm of his hand.

One day, the yellow door swung open. You were standing there in an oversized t-shirt with a mug in your hand, “So it’s you.”

“Uh, yes?” He answers awkwardly, ducking under his cap as a force of habit. He’s been in town for over a month, yet no one has recognized him yet. A random stroke of luck. “I live next door, I keep getting your mail.”

“Paula is just getting up there with age, I don’t think she can read as well as before.” You take the envelopes, skimming through them before tossing them on the counter.

His gaze drags over your features, your hair and eyes, he takes notice of the sunlight shining around you like liquid gold. Okay, maybe he needs more friends if his heart is racing at the sight of a pretty woman.

“Why don’t you answer your door?”

“Heavy sleeper.” You yawn, “I work nights at the motel, and come back and sleep all day.”

“Oh,” when he realizes he’s still on his knees at your door, he quickly stands, dusting his jeans, “I’m—” Steve, “Grant, I’m Grant, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

You look between his face and his outstretched hand, a slow smile crawling onto your lips. You introduce yourself, shaking his hand. “I’ll tell Paula about the mail, hopefully, it won’t happen again.”

And when your door shut, he couldn’t help but hope it did.

The next time you met, it was because of a local stray cat.

It was the fourth night in a row that Steve was sitting on the park bench outside the apartment complex. The can of cat food sitting next to him, opened as the smell wafted to his nose. He taps his foot on the ground, checking his watch.

Then, the lobby door opens and you walk out, this time in a loose dress with a leash in your hand, and a familiar little animal by your side. Suddenly, that cat darts to the left.

“Inky, hey! Calm down!” The harness slips from your hand, making you jerk to the side and nearly lose your shoe in a jagged slab of concrete.

Inky? Steve doesn’t have a chance to question the name before the stray springs onto his lap, nudging his hand before finding delight in the canned food. “Hi, Rocky, how have you been, fella?”

You stumble in front of him, an apology on your lips before you notice that baseball cap atop long, blond hair.

“So it’s you again.” You squint down at him, “he’s supposed to be on a diet.”

Steve’s brows furrow, “what?”

“I thought he was getting a little thicker, and it’s because of you.” You crouch down beside the bench, untangling the leash from his stubby legs. “I’ve been feeding this guy for weeks, I noticed easily.”

“He’s a stray.”

“Not anymore, I adopted him.” You correct, “really recently actually.”

“But I’ve been feeding him since I got here.” Steve frowns, leaving out the fact that he’s also told many secrets to the animal, enough to even rival Bucky’s knowledge. “He’s—his name is Rocky.”

“Inky.” You sit next to him, reaching over to pet the cat, rubbing between his ears, one of them missing the tip. “I guess I can't take away your only friend…”

“I have friends.” Steve is quick to reply.

“In this town?” You ask skeptical, “I’ve never seen you leave your apartment, and no one else knows anything about you.”

That sparks his interest. “You asked about me?” He smiles, pink lips drew into a grin.

Your eyes widen before you turn away, and an odd bubbly feeling fills your stomach. You clear your throat, “Anyway, I suppose we can work out an arrangement, co-parenting this little thing can’t be that hard.”

You both decide on Inky spending weekends at Steve’s place, and somehow those rotating weeks turned into dinner invites that bled into nights on your couch, talking about yourselves and nonsense.

And soon he was walking into your apartment unannounced, making you dinner before you woke up to go to the motel, and later, he’d be there when you returned in the early hours, sleeping on the couch with Inky on his chest.

Your first kiss was on that very bench too. You took Inky (or Rocky) to watch the sunrise on one of your days off, and Steve couldn’t look away from you.

He likes to think that he made the first move, but he knows that’s wrong.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers before peering up at him with those soft, tired eyes. When your lips met, it was like everything had suddenly made sense—the steady growth from neighbours to friends, then to kissing on the park bench at seven in the morning.

It only made it harder to leave you.

At least Steve knows that in every lifetime, he’d choose you.

In a way, he believes he has met you a million times and yet this is the one when he becomes aware of it.

“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.”

What an honour it would be—but that could be his inner masochist speaking.

In those million times, he’s chosen you every chance, and that little voice of doubt asks if you chose him too—or if he just got lucky this time.

Of course, you did, you’ve told him every day. In different ways, quiet ways, by waking him up with a massage, dancing with him in the kitchen, and sitting still for hours while he sketched you.

Steve didn’t work, his excuse was a hearty inheritance from his family, but in truth, he had a few duffel bags filled with cash that he withdrew before going on the run. Being in this town for a year has barely made a dent in it, and he can see himself spending days on end here, with you, and with Rocky.

Everything he’s going to do is for the long run, so he can come back and hold you in his arms, bathe in your glow and feel it igniting his cells. There’s nothing like it, like being with you.

He almost hesitates when getting into his rental, his hair falling into his face as he stares at your opened windows, the breeze flutters your curtains.

You got back from work a few hours ago, your final moments together were spent in the bathtub as he had you once last time, touching and feeling you against his skin. Then, he carried you to bed, memorizing every inch of your face before he cooked you dinner for when you woke up, alone.

He’s left you the keys to his car, placed the duffel bags outside your bedroom and the letter on your nightstand. Rocky was following him around until he shut the front door, locking it and sliding the key into his pocket. He could hear his quiet meows through the wood, alternating between pleading and curious, as if he were asking, “Where are you going? Why are you leaving”

The blistering heat is going to be cruel the next few days and he fixed your air conditioner the previous night, but you won’t know until you read the letter.

Right now, he doesn’t even know what it was. An apology, or a promise, it felt cowardly if anything—could it be his final words? Not the last one, he dreads that sheet of paper being the last piece of him in your life.

When Steve returns to the town, his confidence in the dry dirt, and any resilience is swept away with the snap of golden fingers. Natasha nearly flew straight over it, mistaking it for being a ghost town.

After getting off the jet, reality settles in. Less than half of the inhabitants remain, and he’s only spotted a handful, all wearing matching expressions of confusion and despair.

He races up to your apartment, shouting your name and banging on the door but he receives no reply.

As if the world had been sucked of colour, the yellow of your door isn’t as fresh as he remembers. The corners are crackling, and more importantly, the doorknob is different.

The key he’s guarded feels heavy, and all of sudden, his chest constricts. The air is thin, barely supplying enough for him to stay upright before he braces himself on the doorframe. God, even the smell is different—it doesn’t feel the same, it feels off.

That impurity wraps around his ankles, yanking him into the darkness and he reaches for something, anything, which happens to be the tattered welcome mat under his feet. The new key is shiney, gleaming up at him like a cruel reminder of how much he truly hurt you.

He almost thinks you left too. Abandoned this town because your voracious appetite for freedom won again, and there wasn’t anything left for you here so you went to search somewhere else.

This town was in your past, just like the rest.

But no, this is far worse. This is a nightmare.

There’s a cellphone on the couch, and an old television on your coffee table, the price tag still stuck to the side and it’s on, it plays reruns of the news from a neighbouring city, it’s fuzzy and full of static but he can make out the headline.

“Billions of Mysterious Disappearances Worldwide.”

Half of the world, half of the universe is gone. They lost.

He forces himself to look away, wiping the tears from his eyes to focus on something else. Despite the new devices, the duffel bags are still sitting untouched, unopened and full.

The dishes are left in the sink, trash is in the bin, and the windows are closed with the dull hum of the air conditioner filling the room.

Then, he spots the half-empty glass of water on the table, the condensation dripping onto the wooden surface.

Tentatively, he calls your name once more. He’s in denial, the syllables hammering into his head as he waits for you to answer—for you to appear in disbelief as he stands in your living room, dressed in a dirty navy uniform with a cut above his brow, and blood on the corner of his mouth.

Steve waits and waits until the final plane of glass beneath his feet breaks, and with that, his heart falls into the depths. It crashes into the ground, lying in a bed of memories and anguish.

He sinks into the couch, clenching his gloved fists, the television fades away as his final string of hope is severed.

First Bucky, then Sam, and now you.

Your apartment is empty, void of any life, or so he thinks before he hears quiet patters on the hardwood before a small, furry creature enters his view.

His right ear is missing the tip, his eyes glow with interest before he darts towards Steve, leaping onto his lap. He holds that cat like he’s a lifeline, burying his nose into his fur, soaking the coat with more tears.

There’s a collar around his neck, Inky/Rocky is carved into the metal plate, along with your address.

There are footsteps in the hall, then Natasha is standing at the door, holding her hip with a pinched expression. She has dried blood on her cheeks, and her blonde hair is messy.

They rushed here, barely having time to collect themselves before Steve was madly hunting for a jet. Right now, she didn’t have to ask any questions to know the answer. Her green eyes survey your apartment, the signs of your abrupt disappearance are all too obvious.

There are only a few picture frames hooked on the walls, but all of them have Steve and you, a few even have that little cat too. Steve looks happy in those frozen moments in time, smiling so casually while always touching you—you’re in his lap, under his arm, or pressed against him until not a sliver of air is between the both of you.

To her, this apartment feels homey, no temporary pressure hangs over, just potential. Something planned but not to the book, a simple promise for more.

If she had to name it, she’d pick the word tomorrow.

There was going to be more here, or there was going to be more that came from here. Whether it moved to another place, there was going to be more, that was definite.

And meeting Steve’s eyes, she knows she’s correct in more ways than one. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

He knows, and he is too, but not for himself.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: and there we go !! wrote most of this one night while listening to Lana and i’m very proud of how it ended out, i haven’t written much angst here yet so here’s to the future !! And of course, free to send asks about this fic !!

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

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rogersideup · 2 months

Text

｡°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini ♊︎ ✩ °｡

Chapter 3

Expendable

Series Masterlist

Previous part: wine and dine next part: pink peonies

Word Count 5,333

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions and descriptions of sexual acts.

Standing in front of a human shaped dummy in the private training room, Steve was showing you all the best ways to direct an attack to assure your opponent goes down, and stays down.

After your mission and injury, Steve was out for a few days on a business trip the same day that you were medically cleared to get back to work. So, it had been a while since the last time you trained together.

You both decided it was a good idea to just take it easy and review what you already know as a means of studying for your final evaluation coming up.

Every agent had to take a final evaluation upon completing every single training course shield had to offer. It was a big deal, and though nobody had any doubts that you were ready for it, it could never hurt to review and improve.

"Knock knock, bitches." Bucky announced, causing both of you to stop.

"Hey, Bucky boy" You greeted him.

"What's going on, Buck?" Steve questioned.

"I dunno, I'm bored." He shrugged. "Can I just sit and watch?"

"Don't you have work to do?" You asked with a giggle.

"I finished!" He defended himself. "You two get to spend so much time without me, it's only fair I get to insert myself here whenever I want to."

"You act like this is personal and not us doing our jobs" Steve raised an eyebrow at him.

"That's a technicality I'm choosing to ignore." Bucky sat on the ground with his back against the wall.

Steve looked at you to make sure it was okay that he sat and watched, but he caught something he wished he hadn't. Just for a split second, you narrowed your eyes at Bucky, and he gave you a very subtle nod back.

He realized that it very well could've been nothing, but it definitely seemed like it was something.

Though Steve didn't bring it up at all, he made mental note of it. He was confident in his deep knowledge of both of his friend's behavior, and he was choosing to trust his gut on that observation.

The rest of your time together, Bucky sat and watched quietly, only occasionally responding to conversations that would break out that weren't work related. Towards the end, Steve wanted to confirm some scheduling, so he cut the physical work a few minutes early.

He sat on the bench with you as you pulled a sweatshirt over your head, and your everyday sneakers onto your feet.

"Okay, so, your final evaluation is one week from today." Steve noted. "So this week will be really simple, we can keep doing this, just reviewing what we've already been over. But our training together is still supposed to run until the end of the month so we have three extra weeks together."

"What am I supposed to do when this ends?! I'll be so bored without you!" You exclaimed.

Steve chuckled. "You should be happy that you survived my course!"

"I mean I am, but then what?"

"Maybe another Avenger will take you under their wing." Steve shrugged.

"I can only think of one Avenger with wings" you noted.

"What do you want to cover in the three weeks together after your evaluation?" He asked.

Your lips formed into a pout. "I know what it should be, but I don't wanna do it"

"Restraints?" Steve questioned sympathetically.

"Restraints... I guess." You grumbled.

Every fighter had a weak spot. Just one thing that made their stomachs turn and their hearts race, something that really scared them regardless of mental work or preparation. Some people couldn't handle heights, didn't do very well when they saw blood, and really freaked out over handling certain weapons.

You just happened to be terrified of being restrained, which unfortunately was a very plausible situation to find yourself in as an agent. There was no reason why you were terrified of it, nothing happened in your life to make you fear it as much as you did. But the thought of having your hands or legs tied made you feel claustrophobic in a way you couldn't even describe using words.

"It'll be scary at first, but we'll work on it" Steve reassured. "Wouldn't you rather learn how to get out of any sort of restraint with someone you trust then find yourself in a situation where you're tied up at the hands of an enemy with no way out?"

"Logically yes, but in reality I would like neither of those things to happen." You responded with a twinge of sarcasm.

Steve laughed, "okay well, I wouldn't like that to happen to you either! But once you learn how to escape from a bunch of different scenarios, you won't be scared of it anymore. Knowledge is power!"

"I know you didn't just knowledge is power me, you loser!" You joked with a snort.

"Oh I certainly did, and I'll do it again." He stated with a smile. "Confidently!"

"Okay, I guess I trust you enough to teach me." You committed to the endeavor.

"Good job, pushing yourself is how you grow better as a fighter." Steve praised your bravery. "We'll start with the easiest and work our way up to the hardest, then you'll be such a pro at it that nothing could ever hold you back."

"Yeah, yeah." You playfully rolled your eyes.

"Then after our training together is officially over, I'm going to block off my schedule these same two hours every day to just cry." Steve put a hand over his heart.

"Can you do that to my schedule too? Maybe we can cry together?"

"I'll see what I can do." Steve agreed, before opening his arms up for a hug. You happily hugged him back. "Good job today! You're going to do great on your assessment no matter who is assigned to asses you. We all know it."

"Thanks for teaching me!" You smiled. "In all seriousness, I've really enjoyed getting to learn from you. Thanks for all the time you've put onto me."

"Anytime, Bug. I've been enjoying it just as much." Then Steve turned to include Bucky in their conversation. "What are you guys up to for the rest of the day?"

"Nothing, well, I think that's pretty obvious considering I'm just sitting here" Bucky shrugged. "Do you guys want to hang out? Maybe we can walk to that cool park a few blocks from here? Watch the sunset and get some fresh air?"

"That sounds good to me." Steve agreed. "Buggy, you in?"

Both boys watched as you stood up and slipped your gym back onto your shoulder. "As fun as that sounds, I can't. You know Agent 563? We made plans to have an early dinner together so I have to get ready to leave here soon."

"Booooo, buzz kill!" Bucky announced dramatically.

"That doesn't mean you can't go on a cute little sunset date with your boyfriend without me, Bucky." You smiled at him. "By all means, you boys have fun."

"I think that's great." Steve told you, ignoring the boyfriend comment. "563 is a great agent, and I think it's important that you girls stick together.

"Lord knows we need some time away from the amount of testosterone in this place." You agreed.

“Even me?" Bucky pouted.

"Even you." You smiled at him, approaching him for a hug that you had to bend over pretty far to get. "And Steve. I love you both, but I need to interact with other people than just you two!"

"Hey! I only talk to you and Steve and I'm doing just fine" Bucky defended himself.

"What about Natasha?" Steve wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at him.

"Don't bring up Natas-" Bucky started passionately

"I'm leaving!" You announced before an argument broke out. "Love you boys! Have fun on your date! I hope you hold hands and kiss each other's foreheads!"

Steve and Bucky stared at each other as you walked out of the room. The door closed behind you, and your foot steps faded until completely inaudible to either of their heightened ears.

"Why are you actually here, Buck?" Steve asked.

"You're in love with her." He claimed deadpan.

Steve's heart sank, but controlled himself the best he could as to not bluff. "Why would you say that?"

"I figured it out last night." Bucky admitted. "I was trying to sleep but my brain wouldn't turn off. I was thinking about the dynamic of our little friend group and it hit me like a train. I had to come confirm it with my own eyes."

Steve puffed out a performative chuckle and put his hands on his hips. "You understand how crazy that sounds, right?"

"Is it though?" Bucky raised an eyebrow while standing up from his spot on the floor. "I never noticed it until today. Your eyes physically twinkle when you look at her. Your cheeks have been pink since I got here, and you never stopped smiling until she left the room. Encouraging, sweet, considerate..."

"It's my job to be encouraging towards her, Buck. I'm her boss." Steve huffed, feeling annoyed and attacked by this conversation.

"Why won't you admit it?" He asked.

Steve stopped in place and noted Bucky's furrowed brows. "Wait, why do you seem so upset about this?"

"I'm not upset." Bucky denied, shaking his head. "But if you're actually pining after her, Punk..."

"What?" Steve's heart was pounding.

"Do you like her?" Bucky asked one more time, his tone was nothing but serious. His face was stone cold.

"I'm her boss." Steve slumped. "There's a power imbalance, I can't break her trust."

"And if she joins the Avengers?" His head tilted.

"She just got out of a relationship."

"It's already been a month since then." Bucky insisted. "Steve, this is between me, you, and the grave. I'm serious."

Steve threw his head back with a groan. It had been a while since he had seen Bucky this worked up about anything, so he knew it was important. But getting the admission to slip past his tongue felt morally wrong and partially impossible.

"Steve."

"Yes." He said simply, staring up at the ceiling.

"How long?"

"How long what?" Steve sighed.

"How long have you had feelings for her?"

"Since the day I met her..." Steve mumbled.

"Oh my-"Bucky rubbed his face with his hand before running his hand through his hair. "You hid it too well."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve froze up as his mind ran laps around Bucky's behavior. He already knew what was coming before he could admit to it.

"You're going to hate us, but I need to tell you something..." Bucky said apologetically.

Meanwhile, you were having a fantastic time with Agent 563, Clara. Though the two of you were friendly around the compound, you never had the chance to actually sit and have a long conversation with her before. Both of you getting the chance to vent about the workplace environment and culture to someone who actually understood what it was like to experience it in the unique way you did was refreshing to say the least.

After dinner neither of you were ready to end the conversation there, so you grabbed ice cream on the way back, and walked the whole way home together. At a certain point, work was a topic long forgotten as you two bonded over other similar interests like movies, hobbies, family, you two even shared the same love for video games.

By the time you made it back to your apartment, there was a smile on your face and a lightness to your heart you hadn't felt in a while. It was obvious that work was making you feel heavy and alone for a while, but you didn't realize how bad it actually was until you got away from it.

That smile was wiped off your face when you opened the door to Steve sitting on your couch with a stiffness in his body and an anger on his face you had never seen before.

"Hey, are you alright?" You immediately asked as his head snapped over to you the second the door opened.

Alarm bells were instantly ringing. Your heart dropped into your stomach, and raced with a speed you didn't quite know was possible.

You had given Steve and Bucky a key to your place just like you had keys to theirs, but the three of you typically hung out at Steve's place. Either of them coming to your apartment was a rare occurrence, and them ever using your key was even more rare.

Steve watched you kick off your shoes and hang up your purse, he felt so many emotions all at once that he couldn't even begin to get the words out.

You hesitantly approached, he still didn't answer. "What's wrong?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" Steve questioned. His tone very obviously gave away his state of emotion, it only made you feel more anxious.

You had a suspicion what this was about, but number one rule as an agent was to never incriminate yourself. "Tell you what?"

"Don't do that with me." Steve denied. "Bucky already told me. I don't understand why you guys would do that and keep it from me."

Your posture slumped knowing that this reaction was exactly why you and Bucky decided to keep a dirty little secret from Steve. So you sat down on an armchair next to the couch he sat on so you could explain.

But, he didn't even give you a chance to defend yourself before he spoke again. "Did either of you even consider how hooking up with each other would affect me?"

"Hey now, let's get some facts straight." You didn't let him go any further. "I feel like the term hooking up is giving what we did way more credit than what it was worth, and yes, we did consider you, which is why we both agreed we weren't going to tell you."

"Great, thank you so much for the consideration. That makes me feel really secure in my friendships with both of you!" Steve said sarcastically, feeling betrayed and admittedly heartbroken beyond words.

"Wait" You shook your head. "I know that sounds bad, but you have to understand that we all have different morals and personal opinions when it comes to sex and we knew you wouldn't understand."

"What is there to not understand?" He questioned. "You two had sex with no regard to how it would effect our friendships with each other."

"First of all, it wasn't sex, there was no penetration." You corrected. "Second of all, we didn't think it would effect our friendships because that's all we are to each other."

"I don't care about the details or what actually went down between you. Had either of you told me you liked each other from the get go it wouldn't have been a problem. I would've been happy for you two." He grumbled.

"We don't like each other." You denied. "We were just at the right place at the right time, things moved fast, and that's that. There's no romance happening, nothing to make social group weird. We all know Bucky likes Natasha."

"Well it's weird now." Steve glared at you.

"What do you want me to do now? It already happened, I can't go back and change it." You noted. "Want me to suck your dick too and call it even?"

"This isn't funny and I really don't appreciate that comment." He scoffed.

"It wasn't weird for you until Bucky opened his mouth, huh?" You asked him. "Was it weird for you two weeks ago when it actually happened?"

"I don't care." He swallowed thickly.

Feeling quite taken back by his behavior, and a little more that a little annoyed that Bucky spilled the beans, your attitude came out. "I'm a grown woman capable of making grown choices, and I don't owe you an explanation of what I choose to do with my body, Steve."

"No, you don't." He agreed, but you made him snap. "But I'm feeling betrayed and disrespected by the two of you, and that, I do feel like I'm owed an explanation for."

"Are you mad at Bucky too?" You snapped right back. "Huh? Did you yell at him?"

"He told me the truth." Steve rationalized.

"Yeah, well I never lied to you." You pointed out. "And why did Bucky feel the need to tell you what we did privately? Huh? Do you feel like I'm allowed to feel betrayed and disrespected for him going against our word?"

"I'm not here to tell you how to feel. I'm here to try and rationalize any of the choices we're making right now." He raised his voice. "My friends are the only family I have, and I refuse to lose a friend I've already lost many times before over a stupid choice."

Just with that one sentence, he broke your heart. "And that right there, is exactly why I thought it was okay in the first place." You growled as all of your self defenses came rushing in to protect you from the words you always knew to be true but never wanted to admit.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm expendable to you and Bucky. I always have been." You stood up from your spot next to him. "You say you're upset because you didn't want to ruin the dynamic of the friend group but guess what? The dynamic has always been you and Bucky hanging out and me just kind've being there. You'll always choose each other, and everyone will always choose someone else over me."

"That's not true." Steve denied. Although he was seeing red with anger, your words made him sad for you.

"I'm never anyone's first choice, Steve. You'll always choose Bucky, Bucky will always choose you. My sister will choose her husband, Harvey will always choose literally anything but me. Nobody else here is willing to be my friend because it's like social suicide, and I had to completely isolate myself from my normal civilian friends for this job." You explained. "I'm the best agent so I get used and abused and harassed out of the pack, but if I become an avenger I'll be singled out as the worst one. You and Bucky claimed you'd always have my back but now I know that's not true."

"Stop saying that." Steve shook his head.

"Nobody wants me." You spat, Steve could tell you believed that to be true.

It shattered his already broken heart, because if you had even the slightest clue of how bad he wanted you, you'd never say those words again. But he couldn't tell you, it simply wasn't an option.

"Nobody wants me ever but that night, Bucky wanted me. So forgive me for latching onto any ounce of human connection I can get these days. That choice was never about you, and I'm sorry that it hurt your feelings but I'm struggling more than I ever have and right now I need to put me first."

"Bucky and I have always loved having you around."

"That might be true, but you proved my point with your own mouth." A single tear fell down your cheek, but you wiped it away just as fast as it fell. "You said you weren't willing to lose Bucky. But right now it feels like you're willing to lose me."

"Don't be mad at him." Steve shook his head.

"He had no right telling you that without consulting me first." You denied. "Unless he broke some kind of code or something there was no rea-" Your own words made reality wash over you like an angry ocean wave trying to swallow you whole. "Oh my god."

"No-" Steve shook his head.

"He broke bro code, didn't he?" You asked Steve, feeling suddenly nauseous.

Steve felt nauseous too. His brain couldn't think of anything but the truth at the moment, but he was horrified. Though he tried to formulate the correct response, nothing felt right at the moment. "You slept in my bed."

"Oh my god." You took a slow step back, unable to process what information you were just receiving. He watched as your face turned just as red as his. "You like me?"

A billion different things came to mind. So many scenarios, so many possibilities, every single time you suppressed your own feelings for Steve because you never thought a man like him could ever love you. It was wrong. Yet all this time, he was harboring a secret of his own. And even then it was still wrong.

"You slept in my bed while you had a boyfriend." Steve spoke so firmly you swore you could feel the bass vibrating the floor.

"This whole time you we're hoping I'd jump right into your arms after breaking things off with Harvey?"

Steve knew where this was going, and the look on your face was just as horrified as he felt. Your lip was wobbling, your hands were shaking, and with every statement you took a step back. "No. But I did think that there was enough happening between us that you wouldn't go for Bucky."

"I slept in your bed because I trusted you, you asshole." You cried, pointing a finger at him. "I slept in your bed while staying with Harvey because he was the only man crazy enough to actually love me and I didn't ever think anyone would be crazy enough to love me ever again."

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His jaw hung open for a moment, before it closed, then opened again. "Well then I guess you were wrong."

"I was wrong." You agreed, wiping your face once more as you watched his eyes tear up. "I trusted you to keep me safe in training, protect me against the people who are harassing me. I trusted you as a friend, a confidant. I even trusted you enough to see me naked, but I was wrong."

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you." Steve mumbled. "Because you trusted me and I didn't want to break it. Bucky didn't know."

"So let me get this straight. You had a secret that you kept from both of us, but Bucky's actions are excusable because he didn't know. My actions are inexcusable but I also didn't know, and we did the exact same thing together?" You asked. "You spend a lot of time talking shit about men's double standards around the compound for someone who turned around and is treating me the exact same way."

"I'm trying to talks through this so we can all go back to being friends."

"You we're never my friend." Your words cut through his heart like a knife. "You we're someone being nice to me in hopes of getting in my pants one day."

"No, that's not true." Steve pleaded, blinking back tears. "Our friendship means a lot to me. That's why I'm this upset in the first place."

"I don't think I can ever go back to being just friends with your or Bucky ever again." You cried. "All of you guys here are the same, I can't do this anymore."

Steve watched you clutch your stomach, as you spun on your heels and walked straight for the door. Little did he know, you felt so nauseous you were trying your hardest not to throw up.

"So that's it?" Steve asked, standing up from the couch. "You're going to throw away everything the three of us have built together as friends because we can't have a rational conversation?"

"A rational conversation? You can't even admit that you're only mad at me because you wanted to get into my pants and now you feel like you can't because Bucky got me first." You turned around to look at him. "That's all I am to anyone. That's the only relationships I've been able to form since I've gotten in this compound. You, Bucky, Harvey. I'm not a human to you guys, I might as well just be a glory hole."

"You're misunderstanding me." Steve shook his head, eyebrows raising upward like a sad puppy.

"That makes two of us." You turned back around and grabbed your packed duffel near the door that you always kept for emergencies.

"I care about you, you know that right?"

"It sure doesn't feel like it right now." You denied his claim.

"Where are you going?" Steve asked. "This is your house."

"The compound has never felt like home to me." The door swung open. You didn't even look back at him before stepping through the doorway. "Don't worry about where I'm going, just say the fuck away from me."

And just like that, the door slammed behind you and rattled the ground. You set off like a storm on the other side, and Steve was left on his own to crumble. Only when he was sure you were gone for good did he let tears fall down his face.

Trying your absolute hardest to hold it together you rushed through the compound hallways, desperately trying to avoid seeing anyone you knew before you made it to your car.

You didn't have it in you to have a face to face conversation with Bucky at the moment, but you did feel like you needed to tell him that the friendship was over, so you called him instead.

"Hey, bug." He answered sympathetically.

"Why did you tell him?" You cried.

"I had to." There was a deep sigh from the phone line. "What did he tell you?"

"Why the fuck are you protecting him?" You asked. It was admittedly a little harsh, but Steve had already amped you up.

"So he told you everything." Bucky stated. "I figured out he was in love with you last night. I couldn't in good conscience keep our secret anymore. He needed to know because the longer we kept it from him the worse this would've been."

"He doesn't love me, Bucky." You denied. "What he did wasn't love. It was control, and it was power, but it's not love."

"I can tell you're upset with him, but I don't think that was his intention." Bucky calmly denied. "Give it a few days to settle, alright? You can be mad at us all you want and I understand why, but emotions are high right now and it seems like both you and Steve are villianizing each other."

"I'm going to be gone for the weekend." You stated, needing to set firm boundaries. "I love you, but you hurt me and I need to get away."

"I'm sorry, bug. I really am." He apologized.

"You, Harvey, and Steve will all be blocked from reaching me unless it's during work hours. And as of now, I can't be a friend of yours."

"I understand" Bucky accepted the repercussions of his actions, though he was sad about it. "I hope you know we care a lot about you. I'm sorry this is all happening this way, but I still want you to be safe. Will you let someone know where you're going? Maybe Commander Bennett?"

"Yeah, I will." You agreed, feeling relieved that at least Bucky was being rational. "I hope in a little while we can figure this out between you and I, but it's going to take some time."

"I hope so too." He agreed. "Stay safe, and be smart. I'm here for you whenever you're ready."

You hung up, drove off, and the second the compound was in your rear view mirror it felt like the weight of the world was off your shoulders.

The weekend came and went simultaneously way too fast, yet painfully slow at the same time. You stayed with your sister who welcomed you with widely opened arms, and really took the time to listen to you when you spoke. She let you get it all out, she wiped your tears, then by morning you'd put on a brave face for Luca.

Spending a lot of quality time with him was truly the only reason you hadn't fully lost your mind. By Monday you felt well enough to face the shit show that was work, but it didn't last very long.

You had made it a whopping 4 hours into the work week before getting sent to Steve's office with an ice pack pressed to your cheek and Commander Bennett opening the door for you.

Steve looked up as the two of you entered, but your eyes were glued to the floor. You didn't need to look around to see where the chair was. You already knew.

He hoped that Bennett couldn't feel the thick tension that filled the room, but it was unusual for him to follow you to his office, and he did take note of how bad you looked.

Well, unfortunately for him he always thought you were stupidly beautiful, but your eyes were swollen. You looked exhausted, drained, and nothing like your usual fiery self.

"We need to do something about 212." Commander Bennett cut straight to the chase. "We can't keep cutting into her work time and having her get hurt because 212 and all his awful friends are picking on her."

"What happened?" Steve asked, trying to see what was under the ice pack.

"I saw them trip her with my own eyes. I don't know if they thought I wasn't watching, or if they thought they were being sly enough that I wouldn't notice, but this cannot continue." He stood firm. "Poor thing smacked her face against the floor, but she still is claiming that reprimanding them will make it worse. So what's the solution?"

Steve sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Do you have any ideas, Commander?"

"Give them one more strike. Let them all know that if they pull this again one more time before evaluation we will disqualify them from taking the test." He suggested. "That includes physical, and verbal attacks."

"That's a really good idea, thank you." Steve agreed. "I'll talk to them today."

"Are you comfortable with that, 306?" Bennett asked you.

"Yes, sir." Your voice was hoarse.

"I'm going to give her the option of cutting her work day short or continuing her training, but no matter what we all know she doesn't need more training." He noted. "I'll leave her with you so you guys can figure out your schedules."

"Thank you." Steve said politely.

Bennett left and the door clicked shut behind him, but your eyes stayed glued to the floor. Your options were go to your apartment and sleep the rest of the miserable daylight away, or spend two hours alone in a room with Steve.

You both already knew what the choice was going to be. There was no need to discuss the schedule change.

Steve knew you hated his guts right now, and he was still feeling hurt by you, but it took a few moments for it to dawn on him that he still needed to be a boss and a leader regardless. So he put his best foot forward.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

There was barely any compassion in his voice, he might as well have been a robot, so you didn't bother responding. You didn't even bother looking at him.

"Would you like to talk about the incident?" He pushed.

"No, Captain." You responded, coming to the same awareness that he was still your boss.

Your use of his title and refusal to look at him felt like a shot to the heart. "Would you like to be relieved of duties until tomorrow?"

"Yes, Captain."

"You are dismissed."

Just like the last time he saw you, you walked out on him without as much as a glance back knowing the next time you'd be forced to see him would be evaluation day.

Next Part: pink peonies

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ronearoundblindly · 2 months

Text

Hideout (2)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Sweet Baby (see previous or series)

Summary: 'Grant' becomes comfortable enough to tell you who he is, and you get comfortable enough to show him the kindness he deserves.

Warnings for description of minor blood/injury and light smut (mentions of morning wood, dry humping, hair pulling, praise kink? maybe coached orgasm?). This series is 18+ only. MINORS DNI. There is plenty else for you youngins to read on my Light Masterlist, but this is not for you! WC 2.6k

Warmer months are for updating the rooms, so they are on a rotation of renovation. There are really busy times and really slow times based on events in town, but there’s an understanding with Grant’s ‘party’ of friends that, if needed, they can stay in the room closed for repair. It’s not as if any room is uninhabitable when they need a coat of paint and some plumbing tune-ups.

Clark doesn’t remember you told him about this—you used the excuse that Grant ’s company are handymen (and women) who come in between other jobs,—so the front desk kid calls you while you’re out running errands one day.

Two ‘dudes’ want to stay in room eight on the end. So? Let them. Those are the people who fix things. Clark just says “kay.”

When you pull into the lot hours later, you don’t expect to find Grant sitting on the curb, filthy and exhausted in some gym clothes, a plastic bag set at his feet.

“Wha’ch’a waiting for?” you call with the window down, hoping his spirits can lift easily.

Grant peers up at you through long lashes. He’s had a knock-down drag-out with a field of bramble…or something. That’s when you notice dark, dried blood in the grime stuck to him, and he lets out a long sigh.

“Sa—Tom used all the hot water,” he huffs, “so I’m biding my time.”

Their room’s water tank, the one due for maintenance, is going to take an eternity to reheat, and it’s the worst luck that there really are no other rooms available.

“Hop on in. You can use the bath up at the house.”

He looks just as startled as you by the invitation, but in no simple terms can you express how bad it is to have a huge guy covered in blood hanging out in front of your rural motel. That’s horror movie bait.

You know Grant. You trust him. All he needs is to clean himself up.

He checks behind him again. The same mix of seeking approval or seeking the cover of ignorance returns to his pretty features, and he trots over to the passenger seat of the car, plastic bag in hand.

He helps you bring in the groceries and supplies from town even though you point him in the direction of the upstairs bathroom immediately. There’s a big jacuzzi tub in there, and he is welcome to soak for however long he wants. You’ll even wash his clothes in the mean time, if he’d like.

Grant seems hesitant to accept or argue.

You press on.

Showing him where everything is in the bathroom takes a minute. You fish around a cupboard for the muscle-relaxing milk additive, explaining it may help him…if needed. You don’t know what’s happened, so you’re flying blind for options.

When the tap turns off ten minutes later, silence descends, but he never handed you stuff to wash. You knock and try the door, just to crack it open so he can hear you.

First, you notice the color of the water. He used the milk bath alright, but whatever washed immediately off him has saturated and soured the clean white into a rusty tan. Second, you pick up the pile of clothes and find more in the plastic bag, except…it’s a suit with a star decal half-ripped and dangling from the chest. Third, you realize you can’t see him in the water at all, not his feet, not his head, no bubbles, so you rush in and shove your hands beneath the surface.

He shoots up in alarm, gasping and sloshing to a different wide, rounded corner of porcelain.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you shriek, hands out and spread wide. “I just thought—I don’t know—I didn’t know if you’d—sorry!”

He rubs his hands down his face and over his dripping hair. He doesn’t even speak; he just waves for you to stop apologizing and clears water shot up his nose.

You have to collapse to the fuzzy rug and hold your heart before it beats right out of your ribcage. You still repeat “sorry” a few more times and then manage an impressed “wow, you kept all the water in.”

He thunks his head back to the lip of the tub and props up one leg, his knee cresting the surface. “I have a talent…”

The dirt, despite how much clearly came off already, is smeared grossly across him.

He looks so tired.

“May I—“ you grab the shampoo bottle all the way at his feet “—help?”

Defeated in more ways than one, he nods through the same concerned and confused gaze that’s become his signature. He maneuvers nearer you while you carefully wet your hands, starting a lather. His head stays down, spine exposed, as you massage at the base of his skull.

His eyes shut.

Your heart now swells with accomplishment; you gave this man a moment of peace.

Fingers gliding over the sinewy, tight bands beneath soft hairs, you press circles around and around his scalp. He cranes backwards while you move up and over the crown of his head, and by just above his ears, he’s laying his full weight in the water, lax against the rim.

You keep going long after his hair is strictly clean, though you’ll recommend he rinse after soaking because the water is too foul to count on.

He remains quiet, so you dip your hands in the water at his shoulders, shake them about, and move on to scrubbing his face clean, too, working down from the hairline and over his beard.

Somewhere around his throat, the man sniffs.

He sniffs again, raising a hand from the water to stop yours.

“My name isn’t…” His eyes open finally, only to stare blankly at the ceiling. “My name is Steve.”

“Okay,” you say, abandoning the washing to sit back on the mat again. “Do you want me to call you that or Grant?”

He turns, brows furrowed, and in the most authoritative voice, he replies, “you can’t tell anyone.”

You rest your chin on the lip of the tub, too. “I know. I won’t.”

Eyes locked, you two stare at each other for a long beat.

“The Captain America suit kinda gave it away though,” you whisper, and to your surprise and delight, Steve flicks water at you in retaliation.

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, “handle yourself in here while I go start the laundry.”

You stretch and almost—almost—kiss his forehead because, for whatever reason, that feels right, but at the last second you tuck your head down, acting like you were just standing up. You can’t bring yourself to look back at him while gathering the clothes.

You keep busy downstairs, scrubbing at a few spots of caked on muck, trying not to listen to the sounds of splashing, the squeaking as he moves around, the rush of the draining bath, and the tap turning back on to rinse him again. You scramble to find the biggest t-shirt and pair of pants you own (although, come to think of it, Steve’s got fairly small hips, so you grab some stretchy sweats) and hand them through the door when realizing he has nothing else to wear.

He emerges with several visible cuts and scrapes but dismisses your offer to treat them.

“It’s not worth the effort. They’ll be gone by morning.”

You’ve decided something: if he doesn’t bring it up, you won’t either.

Whatever he wants to tell you, whenever he wants to tell it, you don’t ask. You are used to keeping guests’ confidence—not that anyone tells you deep, dark secrets, but you refuse to gossip about cleanliness or things in the trash—and ‘Grant’ will be no different.

You can, however, still tease him.

“Ready to share that queen bed with Tom?” You give his beefy arm a playful punch.

Steve groans.

“Kidding,” you beam. “I’m not making you walk that path in the dark right now. An elk could get ya!”

He pinches tired eyes, a ghost of a smirk realigning the hairs of his beard. You imagine that on any other day, he would put up more of a fight, but he’s fought enough.

“Yeah, okay. As long as I won’t scare the daylights out of your parents by being on the couch in the morning.” Steve steps over to the landing at the top of the stairs.

“They’re at a hospitality conference. I run the place…mostly. Besides, what kind of host would I be if I didn’t offer you a bed that fits you?” You dramatically bow and indicate your room. “This way, please, sir.”

Good thing he has no fight left in him. His eyes narrow adorably, but he doesn’t budge.

“I should let Tom know.”

“There is a phone in there, too. I’ll dial room eight.”

You get him some water, hanging his clothes to dry, offering as much privacy as you can in an old house with thin walls.

“Yeah, hi, it’s…yes, yes, I’m… Yeah, I know. I know, Sam, just—you don’t have to laugh about it. She let me use the bath, is all. You’re the one who—Well, don’t take all the damn wa—hello? Hello?” Steve is staring at the receiver of the land line when you appear in the doorway. “Uh, he…gets it.”

He sits on the edge of your bed, glancing around your neither childish nor sterile room. You put the glass down on your side table instead of handing it to him.

“Okay, I think you need rest,” you add, sweeping your hand down his bare arm.

You marvel at how the edges of his cuts are already shrinking, knitting back together in near-realtime. Your fingertips trace around the skin like an interactive roadmap.

First heal this, then he needs this, and this is deeper here.

You wonder whether he feels pain the same as everyone else. Is it dulled? Does he just have to ignore how much and how frequently he hurts because it goes away sooner? That’s a sad thought to you. Just because he’ll be okay, doesn’t mean he should suffer more.

He’s a miracle. As Grant, Steve, Cap, or nobody at all, he’s still a miracle.

“You don’t have to go…”

The last of the evening blurs as you wake, but you remember Steve needed this. He asked you to stay.

Spooning is the only way to fit on the bed together. After finishing your own bedtime routing, you began behind the giant man, curled tight, lightly scratching over his broad shoulders and arms. He fell asleep so quickly, and you don’t recall how long after that you both turned over. You had to drape Steve’s awkward arm around you, show him he could hold you close, assure him he can be as comfortable as he likes.

Whichever way he settled is infinitely better than falling off the bed, and you’re grateful he’s accommodating in a small space. You suppose he has to be. Though, for a man as dense as a brick wall, he is shockingly pliant around you.

Shame you have to stretch, ruining the picture of fitting puzzle pieces you’ve become.

Arms out and legs long, you roll, restless on the one side for too long in the night. Steve shifts around your moves, laying his head on your arm instead of the pillow. His arm that was your pillow wedges down by your waist instead.

Your knees knock his, so even in sleep, he lets them slot through, legs entangled and…his erection laying over your thigh, the tip poking your hip.

Your body tenses for a split second, the muscles of your leg brush harder against his cock, and Steve groans softly, the arm draped over you pulling your body closer.

He’s still asleep, breathing easy, his features totally relaxed.

His golden hair shines in the early light, and he’s so, so beautiful.

You move stray locks from his face, enjoying how he nuzzles and sighs as you play. Quiet, lazy touches.

His hips nudge forward for friction. His fingers grab at your nightshirt. One of his shifts angles his length to drive against your mound instead, and you gasp involuntarily, having smothered your excitement for too long.

He stirs, a heavier, longer breath followed by Steve's whole body going rigid and his eyes squeezing shut. He tries to bury his face in your arm, and you can’t help it. You hope he’ll continue.

You shush him, carding through his hair to soothe him as you did in the bath.

There’s nothing wrong.

He can feel good.

He should feel good.

You want him to feel good. Hell, you don’t say it, but you need to make him feel good.

Steve still won’t face you. He leans closer, shielding himself with your chest, but he doesn’t pull his hips away.

You can hear him thinking through his options groggily, and in your nervousness, you pull at the fistful of hair in your hand.

Steve whimpers and juts his pelvis forward.

“It’s okay,” you whisper. “Did you like that? Does that feel nice, Stevie?”

His abs flutter with a spasming exhale, but he says nothing. His rough hands dig into your back while he desperately seeks more friction.

You let him—you encourage him—to keep going.

“Whatever you need…it’s okay.”

He pants into your skin, making you sweat while he dissolves into a mewling mess of shame, taking what he deserves.

He bends his leg for leverage, the sole of his foot pressing flush to your calf. You feel his thumping heartbeat along all of your skin that touches his. He swallows moans which sound hollow and deep where they die in his chest before Steve grunts and stretches, the whole underbelly of his cock rubbing your inner thigh and baiting your clit mercilessly with almost-contact.

You release his hair, asking “do you want my han—”

But it’s too late.

Steve seizes you in his last moments hard before he stills, palms so wide you’ll feel the marks over an entire shoulder blade and the breadth of skin from your ass to your ribcage.

You yelp, the nails of your trapped hand clawing at the sheets around you. It’s a good pain. It’s worth it to witness how his body melts into yours after he comes. He’s lax and heavy, pathetic convulsions of ecstasy subsiding.

You’re only just starting to feel the wet fabric on your thigh when he peels away and rushes to the bathroom.

The best thing for him is to act normal. It is normal for him to be hard in the morning, to want contact and satisfaction, and the truth is it’s perfectly normal for you to dream of providing that for him. You want that contact with him. You are satisfied when he is satisfied.

That's scary because it's a secret as hidden from you both as his identity now, but you won't talk about it. If he doesn't ask, then he doesn't want the answer. It's better that way.

So that was okay, and this is okay.

It's okay, and you tell him when you bring his gym clothes back to the door. You repeat it as he walks out of your home unable to look you in the eye, his partially-destroyed past life wadded up in a fresh plastic bag.

At the bottom of the porch steps, he turns, still focused on the ground.

“Thank you for the…the bath.”

You can’t tell anyone about him—about how you feel for him—not even him. It wouldn’t be right. He doesn’t want that.

“I’m glad you feel better, Grant.”

A/N: Google, Play 'Hopelessly Devoted To You.' *starts weeping some more*

[Next Part: Sensitive Boy, Part I]

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