#steve rogers x reader angst

[sunvmars]

only you || s.r.

pairing: steve rogers x reader (brief platonic!nat, sam, and bucky.)

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word count: 7.1k summary: only a few weeks after a breakup, you go out for the night with the team. steve doesn’t show up, and he’s been purposefully not showing up to anything non-work related after the breakup. however, tonight you drink a little too much, and insist that steve pick you up. warnings: angst (breakup, talk of bullying, body image issues), swearing, drinking, *smutty implications.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't know who else to call," Sam explains, his voice raised to speak louder than the blaring music.

"She keeps asking for you, and she won't go with anyone but you," Bucky adds as he and Sam lead Steve through the crowded dancefloor.

The blond sighs and shoves his phone into the pocket of his jeans. "It's alright, really- but how drunk is she, exactly?"

Before Sam can respond, they come to a stop right in front of the team's reserved booth. Bruce had only come for all of an hour of the night, but Clint and Tony had left about thirty minutes prior to Steve's arrival, leaving your well-being in Natasha, Bucky, and Sam's hands.

Steve looks over you and Nat; you're laid down on the long, cushioned seat with your head resting on her lap. Her jacket is slung over your lower half to cover your exposed legs from your dress rising up on your thighs. You're looking up at her adoringly, reaching up to twirl strands of her hair between your fingers as you mumble about how pretty her hair is.

"That answer your question?" Sam whispers, chuckling slightly.

Another sigh falls from Steve's lips, and although his heart aches, he has to stop himself from cracking a smile. "That it does."

He steps closer to the booth, taking in the sight of you with softened eyes. Typically, you never let yourself get this drunk, not in the public eye at least. Even though it's clear you've had more than a bit too much to drink, the sight is endearing.

Nat directs her attention from you and up at the three men approaching the table instead. Her expression is one of amusement with a slight hint of relief as she looks down at you again. "Hey, look who's here, honey," she says softly to you.

You turn your head in her lap and let your hands fall back down, finally releasing her hair from your gentle grip. Your eyes land on Steve and you blink up at him before a wide, drunken smile spreads on your face.

"Steeeeve!" you exclaim in a slur, reaching your hand out for him. "You came!"

He crouches down next to the booth, hesitantly taking your hand into his. "Hey, doll. 'Course I came, I always will. Looks like you've had fun tonight, huh?"

You nod excitedly and your smile spreads into a grin. "Nat's hair is sooo pretty, did ya know that? 'S soft too, like a pillow," you ramble, your words somehow not coming out scrambled.

"I bet," Steve says, watching Nat brush your hair out of your face. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

"Your home?" you ask in a softer voice.

Right. His home.

"I don't..." Steve starts before falling into silent contemplation.

He looks up at Nat who's already looking back at him, her expression apologetic and soft. Then his eyes shift back down to you, and his heart clenches in his chest. Your eyelashes flutter as you blink at him, your eyes light up and twinkle in a way that they only do for him, and your lips part a little as you take slower breaths.

How could he say no to that?

"Sure, yeah, we'll go back to mine," he concedes gently, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

You smile again and scramble to sit upright. Nat lays a hand on your back to help keep you balanced, Steve taking your other hand in his free one to pull you up gently. When you're sat up straight, he takes Nat's jacket off your legs and helps you tug your dress back down.

He slides your phone off the table and into his pocket before throwing your arms around his neck. You take the hint to hold on as he slides one of his arms under your legs and the other behind your back.

Effortlessly, he lifts you into his arms. You clasp your hands together behind his neck and a giggle slips out of your lips- a sound that was once music to his ears which had now become one he longed to hear again.

"G'night, Nat," you say sweetly, turning your head to look at her.

Steve's body follows the direction of your head, turning towards the table so you don't strain your neck. Her eyes meet yours and she smiles at you once more.

"Goodnight, babe. Text me tomorrow, alright?" she requests before looking up at Steve and saying, "Make sure to get some water in her, we had to trick her into drinking some by watering down her tequila."

"Will do-"

Your gasp cuts Steve off effectively, her words only just now sinking in. "That wasn't tequila?!" you exclaim, your voice coming out quieter than you realize.

The three at the table laugh a little- even Steve lets out a low chuckle of his own.

"I'll let you in on a secret," Nat starts, her voice dropping to a whisper before continuing, "It was definitely tequila, but you know these guys are no fun, so we can't tell them that."

"Ohhh, right, right. I can keep a secret- you're the world's bestest adult sitter," you reply softly.

"The best, huh?" she questions with a half smirk.

When you nod, she takes a sip of her drink, placing the glass down before saying, "I'll be expecting my plaque soon then."

"You wanna say bye to Sam and Bucky?" he asks, looking over slightly to meet your eyes.

You hum in response and he walks you over a few steps to Bucky and Sam who are sitting at the other end of the table. The pair smile at you, though it's more of an amused grin on Bucky's end, and you return the gesture.

"Bye, Bucky," you say, sleep and intoxication ridden in your voice.

Bucky chuckles and rises to his feet to ruffle your hair playfully. "Bye, doll. You get some good sleep, alright?"

Your nose scrunches at the feeling of his hand in your hair. "Always good sleep when with Stevie."

Bucky sits back down, and Sam starts to speak, "Punch it in," he instructs, raising his fist up to your level.

You oblige happily, curling your hand into a fist to the best of your ability and bumping it against his. "G'bye," you slur, nuzzling your face into the crook of Steve's neck.

"Call us if you need us," Bucky says to Steve.

"Yeah, thank you for watching over her," Steve responds appreciatively, "Goodnight, be safe getting home."

"'Night," the three say collectively, smiling at him in a way that's bordering apologetic.

Steve forces a smile before turning to walk away. He makes his way through the crowd, holding you tight and protectively against his chest.

"You can go to sleep if you want, I can tell you're sleepy," he murmurs low enough for just you to hear him.

A small whimper emits from you, making a warmth spread through his body. He looks down at you adoringly before looking back up, shifting his focus back to the rather slow journey to the exit. Although some people part to make way for who they know to be Captain America himself, most of them are too drunk to care. So, Steve focuses heavily on navigating through the maze of bodies.

When he steals a glance down at you again, you're sleeping peacefully and your head has fallen back away from his neck. You must've felt him move though, because you immediately nestle your face back into his neck, and the warmth of your breath against his skin makes him shiver. The scent of the alcohol you'd been drinking lingers, but it's mixed with the familiar fragrance of your vanilla perfume, and it creates a blend that only you could pull off.

When you reach the exit, the cold, autumn night air hits both of your faces. Steve adjusts his grip on you to make sure you're comfortable and then walks to the car he ordered that dropped him off. The driver steps out, and opens the passenger side door for the two of you, allowing Steve to slide you comfortably onto the seat.

He thanks the driver as you whine at the loss of contact. You melt sleepily into his touch when he reaches in to brush your hair behind your ear to let you know he's not leaving. The bright city lights reflect in his blue eyes, and a soft, but achy, smile plays on his lips at the sight of you. Careful not to wake you or pinch your fingers, he fastens your seatbelt, making sure you're secure before closing the car door.

He walks to the other side of the car and gets in, choosing to sit by the window instead of next to you in the middle seat. As the car starts up, he can't help but look at you and admire you. The admiration quickly turns into longing, though. He takes in every part of your face, his mind plaguing itself with the memory of just over two months ago.

"I don't think I'm right for you."

The words flow easily from your mouth like water between open fingers. Steve looks at you, utterly confused and hurt. His jaw tightens, his eyebrows furrowing as he opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again when he can't find the words.

He gets off the couch, rising to his feet and looking at you from across the room. "You want to leave, to forget everything from the last year and a half, just because you don't think you're right for me?"

The weight of your decision and his words sit heavily on your shoulders as you slouch over, putting your face in your hands for a moment. "I... I'm no good for you, Steve, and you deserve better than me... I can't be what, or who, you need."

"What are you talking about, y/n? You're perfect to me, I wouldn't trade you for anything," he explains, trying to keep his voice soft and reassuring despite the fear and irritation building up in him. "Please, tell me what I can do to make you feel better and I'll do it, I'll do anything-"

"You can't do anything!" you finally snap, your emotions being misdirected towards him. You let the warm tears that were welling up fall freely from your eyes as you continue, "There's nothing you can do, Steven, I'm not the person you need, and I never will be. Drop it, just leave it at that, and move on."

"'Leave it at that?'" Steve repeats back in bewilderment. "We have been together for almost two years and you expect me to drop all of it just like that?"

All you can muster up in response is a quiet, "I'm sorry."

He watches you stand up and sling your purse over your shoulder. Desperately, he scrambles for the right words to say to make you stay. "Baby, please, tell me what's really going on here- this cannot be it for us, I won't let it be."

Steve takes long strides towards you only for you to back away from him. For some strange reason, that small action hurt worse than any of the words that came, or could possibly come, out of your mouth. He stops dead in his tracks, trying to search your face for any sign of changing your mind. When he doesn't find it, he bites down on his tongue to save himself more heartache from the useless begging he wants to let out.

"I'm sorry, Steve. You deserve better, and you always have," you mumble, wiping the tears off your cheeks and walking quickly to the front door.

"I love you," he says, only to receive no response other than the front door slamming shut as you walk out of it.

“You alright back there?” the driver’s voice snaps Steve out of his thoughts. “You need heat or air? Seat warmers? Anything?”

Steve shakes his head slightly, snapping himself out of it. His hand reaches over to you, and he rests the back of his hand on your forehead. “A little heat, thanks,” he says with a smile after nothing the tinge of cold your skin has.

“Of course,” the driver says with a returned smile as he turns the heat on.

As he avigates the familiar route to Steve’s apartment, with the sleepiness Steve feels, he's thankful for the fact that there's only a minute or two remaining of the drive. And on the other hand, he’s sulking about the short time left because that’s two minutes closer to you being gone by the time he wakes up.

He turns his gaze back to you, still peacefully asleep with your head resting against the window. The soft hum of the engine provides an almost calming backdrop that yet does nothing to soothe the ache that persists. Focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest always seems to soothe him though, and it still does so now.

The car comes to a stop in front of the apartment, and Steve reaches into his wallet to pull out some cash. He pulls out his keys too, to make it easier when he gets to the door. Then he hands the cash to the driver with a grateful nod before getting out of the car and making his way to your side. Gently, he opens the door, reaching up quickly to lean your head back on the headrest.

You grumble a little, and he's quick to ease you as he unbuckles your seatbelt. "Sorry, sweetheart, but we're home now."

"Home?" you murmur, still half asleep.

He carefully lifts you into his arms once more, and you instantly cling to his jacket. "Yeah... home."

The building's lobby is quiet as he enters through the automatic doors, the night shift doorman giving him a knowing smile. Steve offers nothing but a small and short nod in return, his focus solely on your drunken state. Luckily the elevator ride is short, but every second feels like an eternity to him.

The weight of your body curled up in his arms provides a comforting familiarity. It's a familiarity he soaks up though, having not seen you outside of work during the few missions you had together. In fact, you hadn't spoken to him outside of work since you left either.

Even during missions, you were short with your comments. And when you picked up your things from his apartment, of which you were actively moving into, you did it on a day when he was gone. You'd left your key under the mat and shot him a brief text letting him know. He replied, only asking how you were doing, but he got no response back.

The elevator dings, snapping him out of his thoughts again as he steps out, taking long strides until he reaches his door. He turns to the side, bending down ever so slightly to unlock the door with his keys in the hand hooked under your legs. He twists the doorknob and pushes the door open, carrying you inside with practiced ease.

The soft glow of outside city lights filters through the open windows. Paired with the dim tv, the lights cast a cool ambiance over the living room. With a deep breath, he heads straight to his room and slowly lays you down on the bed.

The bedroom is dark except for the blue and green aurora projected on the ceiling from the starlight projector you insisted he get since his room was too 'plain.' At first, the light kept him up at night because he found it too distracting, but since you'd left, he couldn't sleep without it on. After all, it was the only piece of you that you left with him other than the few shirts and undergarments.

Steve sighs deeply, taking your heels off your feet and placing them next to the bed. He covers you with your favorite blanket from the foot of his bed, and with a heart heavier than typical, he makes his way to the kitchen to fill up a cup with water. He then carries the glass back to the bedroom and sits it on the bedside table.

He takes a moment to simply watch you as he sits on the edge of the bed next to you. The soft features of your face relaxed in sleep makes him contemplate waking you up- you were always a peaceful sleeper, and he hated disturbing those few moments of peace.

Before he can attempt to wake you, you begin to stir, your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes slowly open. You blink slowly a few times, allowing your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, and then a sleepy smile forms on your face when you see Steve.

"Hey," he greets you softly, reaching over to offer you the glass of water from the nightstand.

"Thank you," you say.

It's obvious that you're still not sober as you take the glass and sit up too quickly, the sudden movement resulting in your head throbbing as you groan. "Ouch," you mumble, pressing the palm of your free hand against your forehead.

"You okay?"

"Think so," you reply, sitting up much slower than before.

The cool water soothes you a little as you take small sips of it. A contented sigh falls from your lips, your body appreciating the non-alcoholic beverage. You place the glass back onto its spot on the nightstand and then focus your attention back on Steve.

Your eyes reflect the projector's lights as your eyes rake over him for a few seconds. Slower than you realize, you raise your hand and brush it gently over his cheek in admiration. "You're like... like an angel, but a reaaally handsome one," you croon.

Steve chuckles, a mixture of amusement and genuine joy spreading across his features. "I'm flattered, but you're the angel here, honey," he says with a smile.

He captures your hand in his and brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. You giggle in response, the alcohol still evident in your system, and then your happy expression fades away. You look down, suddenly feeling a bit self-conscious.

"I'm sorry for, uhm, causing a fuss t'night. I never meant to ruin your night..."

The look on his face becomes one closer to sympathetic as he drops your hand, now reaching over to cup your cheek. Carefully, he forces you to look at him as he speaks. "Hey, you didn't ruin anything, alright? I'll always come when you need me, and I'm just glad you're okay."

Missing the feeling of his skin on yours all too much, you lean into his touch, letting his warmth soothe you. "Thanks for...everything."

"Anytime, truly," he replies.

There's a comfortable silence that falls between you, the weight of the obvious unspoken words lingering in the air. You look up at him, trying to keep yourself awake. Steve drops his hand and tries to memorize every detail of your face. He knows that tomorrow things will go back to how they were, and he's not sure he can stomach that.

It only takes a few more beats of silence before he breaks the said silence, his voice low and gentle. "Can we talk?" he asks, his blue eyes searching yours.

You hum for a moment, taking a slow breath before saying, "Jus' for a minute, very sleepy."

"I just... I have one question, that okay?"

"Hm?"

Steve musters up the courage to speak, only breaking apart from your gaze for a second. "Could you maybe tell me why you left? Like why you really left?"

When your eyes flicker with hesitation and sadness, he starts to regret asking. The air feels heavier than it ever has, holding the weight of everything spoken and not yet said, but he breathes it all in. Right as he's about to tell you to not worry about it, you take a deep breath and smother your vulnerability with the knowledge that he deserves the truth. Slowly as to not give yourself another headache, you nod.

"S'like I told you, that was the truth, 'm not good enough. You look at me with so much love and admiration, and I know...I know I could never live up to what you think of me," you explain, drawing out each word a little more than you would if you were sober. "'M holding you back, always have been, and you deserve better."

His eyebrows furrow as he takes in your words, his gaze intense and sharp. "I look at you like that because of who you are, not because of who I think you should be," he says in an attempt to reassure you. He reaches out to take your hand in his as he continues, "You're always been more than enough, honey. I mean, hell, you're more than I deserve, and-"

"No, no, you don't get it!" you exclaim lowly, cutting him off and taking your hand out of his grip. "Y-you're perfect, you're America's golden boy, and 'm jus' me. I hate my body, my mind, an-and everything about me. Could never be good enough for you, Steve. As if I don't already hate myself enough, everyone says and sees how much more you deserve, except for you."

Steve's mind races and his heart tightens as he takes in your words. The obvious pain in your voice cuts through him like a scalding knife, the tears welling up in your eyes cutting him even deeper. He's now sure that nothing could measure up to the pain of hearing you talk about yourself in the complete opposite way of how he thinks of you.

Silence passes as he dwells on your words. Then it clicks.

"Who's been saying that?" he questions sternly.

You avoid his gaze like the plague, immediately breaking the eye contact you were holding. Physically, you can feel yourself shrink. Whether it's the guilt from your outburst, the shame from everything you've heard and thought about yourself, or the intensity of his gaze- you're not sure.

His jaw tightens in anger, but not directed at you. "Who, y/n?"

A deep and heavy sigh falls from your lips as your eyes dart around the room. "Phone," you say quietly, holding out your hand to him.

Steve looks at your outstretched hand, confusion covering the concern etched on his face briefly. He pauses for a moment before reaching into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out your phone. Placing it in your hand, he watches closely as you unlock it with shaky fingers. Your eyes scan over the screen, but it doesn't take long for you to find what you were looking for, and your expression tells it all.

You hesitate to hand the phone to him, but you do so anyway, lying down on the bed and curling up into yourself as soon as the phone touches his hands. And, not that you see it, but his eyes narrow as he reads over everything rapidly. You'd had it all saved in a little folder; every message, every media report, every post made about you.

He's not sure what's worse of the situation, to be honest. To know that you'd felt this way about yourself for God knows how long and not have said anything about it was painful, sure. However, the words written about you were downright cruel, analytical, and simply not true at all.

But the amount of things that were written and you had saved for you to read at your whim, only reaffirming whatever untrue things you thought about yourself? That was a different level of hurt that he could imagine hurt you hundreds of times worse than it does him.

Unable to stomach anymore, he places your phone face down on the nightstand. Silently, he scoots up on the bed to be closer, reaching out to place his hand on your cheek. You flinch at the contact at first, but his touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the words you've been subjected to.

"I'm so, so sorry, my sweet girl," he says softly, trying to force down tears of his own.

You take a shaky breath in and out, your voice barely above a low murmur. "Didn't want you to leave me, so I left first."

Steve's heart sinks at your admission, his thumb gently stroking your cheek to wipe away the stray tear that escaped your eye. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, a gesture that's meant to offer some kind of comfort and reassurance.

"I would've never left you, and I still won't, okay? I know you care about what they say, but I don't. Nothing could ever skew my image of you, angel, you're my definition of perfect- you don't have any image to live up to in my mind," he promises with a soft-spoken tone.

You can't find it in you to respond even though you want to, all too scared of your voice failing you. Sheer pain radiates from you to the point where it's almost suffocating. While he's more than aware that no words can take back anything you've read or heard, the simple fact that he can't undo what has already been done riddles him with guilt still.

If he could, he would take all of that ache and bear it all for you.

"When did all this start?" he inquires, waiting patiently for your answer.

"I don't know..."

"I know you do, honey, you can tell me."

"Only... Only a week after we got together, got worse after I started moving in here."

"Scoot," he instructs gently, careful to control his tone with you although he feels a deep rage.

You oblige and scoot over slowly. Almost instantly, he lays down behind you, curling up so that his body molds with yours. He brushes a few pieces of your hair back before wrapping his arm around your midsection to hold you protectively against him.

"Can I ask you one more thing?" he asks, adding on, "And you don't have to answer if you don't want to."

After thinking about it for a second, you nod. He tries to find the best way to ask what he wants to ask. Deep down he wants, but somehow already knows, the answer, yet he doesn't want to make things worse. Nor does he want it to seem like the subject is the only thing he was thinking about.

"Is…is all of this, meaning what people have said and what you think about yourself- is this why we've never, you know, done anything together?" he inquires with furrowed brows from the overwhelming amount of emotions. "I'm just asking because I never thought this would be why, I thought I was doing something wrong or you just weren't ready."

Your body tenses at his question, and you have to steady your voice before answering, "Part of it. Never felt good enough, and I didn't want you to see me like that and be disappointed."

Steve frowns, sighing lowly as he presses a gentle kiss to the back of your neck. The gesture is simple, but it effectively conveys the depth of what he feels.

"I don't care how long it takes me to convince you, but I'll spend forever trying to get you to see yourself even a fraction of the way I do if I have to," he says as his thumb traces circles on your side. "You're absolutely breathtaking, angel. Fuck anyone who says you're anything other than beautiful."

A quiet giggle slips from between your lips, unable to hold contain your momentary amusement. For the first time in a while, he smiles a real, genuine smile. "You don't know how long I've missed the sound of that pretty laugh."

"You said 'fuck,'" you tease, trying to soak in the temporary joy.

He chuckles and the sounds rumbles through his chest. "Sometimes I can be a little hypocritical, especially when it comes to protecting you."

The smile you hold fades again, and you're left with nothing but the sadness and warmth of Steve's body behind yours. "Thank you," you whisper.

Steve tightens his hold around you and presses another gentle kiss to the nape of your neck. "You don't need to thank me for telling you the truth, it's what I'm here for, and I meant every word."

The two of you lay there in silence for a while. The room stays filled only with the sounds of your delicate breathing and the occasional passing of a distant car. This time, the silence isn't agonizing though. Steve's presence makes it feel comforting, and his words make your brain go mute even if just for tonight, making the weight of the world lift just a little.

"Stevie?" you murmur, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" he responds.

Your fingers wrap around his wrist. "Don't wanna be alone t'night," you admit.

"Then you won't be," he promises softly. "Do you want me to help you out of that dress? No pressure, of course, I was just thinking it might be more comfortable for you to sleep if you changed. I think you've still got a shirt here or you could wear one of mine, and like I said I could leave if-"

"Steve?"

"...Yes?"

"Don't think I could get out of this dress by myself right now if I wanted to, and I'd love one of your shirts."

Steve smiles at your response, relief washing over him at your comfort with him. He unwraps his arm from around you, sitting up slowly before helping you sit up. When he slides off the bed, walking over to his dresser to find a shirt, you scoot yourself slowly to the edge of the bed. Your legs dangle off the edge and your shoulders slouch as you try to keep yourself awake.

With a worn-out gray t-shirt in his hand, he walks back over to you. "Alright, sweetheart. Let me take care of you," he says.

He places the shirt on the bed and reaches behind you to unzip your dress. You allow your head to fall against his chest, trying to soak in his warmth. His movements are slow and delicate, precise too, ensuring that he doesn't cause you any discomfort.

Once the zipper is down, he leaves his hands resting on your back to help you slide off the bed. Then he slips the thin straps down your arms, allowing the dress to fall to the floor, leaving you in just your underwear.

Crystalline, icy blue eyes rake over your body for a moment as he bends down to pick up the discarded fabric. It's not a sexual ogling, and you know that; he's simply admiring you the way he has always wanted to.

Suddenly feeling bashful, you avoid his gaze. You look at anything but him or your body, opting to focus on the street lights outside the big window. He catches your slight shyness immediately and quickly tries to soothe you.

"Hey," he coos with concern written on his face, one hand resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek, "You're perfect, angel. Are you feeling uncomfortable, do I need to step out for a minute?"

"N-no," you answer promptly and force yourself to meet his eyes. "'M jus' not used to being looked at like this."

Steve's gaze softens, clearly showing he understands the vulnerability you feel. He leans in to press a lingering kiss on your forehead. "If you let me, I'll help you get used to it- and I'll make sure you never feel unsafe or uncomfortable with me. How's that sound?"

The corners of your lips manage to quirk up into an appreciative smile. "Sounds nice, Stevie," you reply, your voice low but still audible.

Returning the same appreciative look, he picks up the t-shirt and says, "Thank you for letting me see you, and touch you, but let's get into something more comfortable for right now. You need some sleep."

You nod and raise your arms up in the air so he can slide the t-shirt onto you. It's then that you notice he'd given you the same shirt you wore the first night you ever spent the night at his place, and almost every time since then, threatening to make you cry.

The fabric is as soft against your skin as it always has been, and the scent of Steve's cologne envelops you, providing a sense of security. A warm feeling spreads through your chest at how he cares for you.

Steve takes a small step back to admire you in the shirt, and just to get another look at you. A fond smile plays on his lips as he looks you over once more. "Always has looked better on you than it does on me. Good to know it still does," he says, honesty obvious in his voice.

Again, your eyes lock with his. You search him for any sign of anything negative, coming up with nothing almost instantly. He searches you for any look or hint of discomfort, but he finds nothing other than sleepiness and adoration in your gaze.

Silence passes over the two of you like it had just mere minutes ago. The quiet environment feels even more natural and comforting than it did before, though.

He clears his throat, trying to prevent the eye contact from becoming awkward for you. "Uhm, let's get you into bed, alright?"

You step to the side so he can pull the comforter back, your hands playing with the bottom hem of the shirt. He turns to face you, and you take a wobbly step towards him, balancing yourself by placing your hands on his chest. His hand flies to your lower back to offer you more support, and you look up at him through the eyelashes of your sleepy eyes.

Slowly, tracing your way up and down his chest once, your eyes stare into him with something he'd never seen in you before. In fact, the look is so intense that it could make any man weak, he's sure of it. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly at your sudden touchiness.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asks, somehow oblivious to exactly what look it is that you're giving him.

"Mhmm," you hum, drawing out the 'hm,' with a voice laced with a soft and sleepy seduction from still being tipsy. "Y'know, 'm not thaaat tired."

"Oh? The way that you're hardly able to hold yourself up says otherwise, angel. We have all of tomorrow to talk, let me just help take care of you tonight."

A giggle slips from between your parted lips in response to his cluelessness. "S'cute when you're so sweet," you croon.

"Do you, uhm, do you need something before bed? Like an Advil maybe?"

Instead of a verbal response, you grab onto his jacket and give it a slight tug. You take a step forward, pushing him back gently to force him to sit on the bed. He looks up at you in confusion, but you don't let go of him as you slowly straddle him. With your weight being supported by your knees on the bed and his legs under you, you lean in, nuzzling your face into his neck.

"Angel, what're you-"

Your lips brush lightly under his jawline, leaving a trail of tender kisses as you gradually make your way down to under his chin.

Steve's breath hitches, and his free hand comes to rest on your waist with a delicate, but firm, grip. "O-oh," he murmurs in a sigh.

You nibble gently on his jaw. "Jus' need you," you mumble before pressing your lips to his.

He lets you kiss him, unable to resist the feeling because, well fuck, how could he?

The taste of your lips is all too familiar, and as his lips work against yours, his hands find your hips. His hold on you is secure, and it does nothing to ease the arousal building up in your stomach. You whine from the contact, and he tugs you closer, still careful to keep you steady on his lap.

His resolve weakens, and he becomes hyperaware of your vulnerable state again. So, he breaks the kiss, looking down and into your eyes.

"Y/n, I'm not sure if-" he starts, only to be interrupted by you dipping down to bite on his neck. You suck harshly on his neck as you reach down and palm him through his jeans.

A low groan emits from his chest, his voice husky when he speaks. "God, baby.”

Thoroughly enjoying the reaction he gives, you whimper against his neck. He can feel the corners of your lips turn up into a slight smile. His other hand is on the other side of your waist, gripping it firmly, as soon as you start grinding down onto his thigh. He loses himself in the moment for just a second before reminding himself of your inebriated state.

“F-Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “Wait, wait- stop.”

You bite down once more, whining slightly before pulling away. The sensitive spot on his neck pulses, rushing with blood from the sucking and vibration. He tenses up with a mixture of both surprise and arousal at your forwardness. Then he lets both of his hands find your hips and settle on them, his hold tightening on you.

"D-did I do somethin' wrong? Did that not feel good?" you ask with a deep frown.

"No, no. That's not it, I promise; everything you've done feels amazing," Steve reassures you, quickly shutting down your negative thoughts.

Once again, he clears his throat in an attempt to regain his composure. "Angel, you're just… not in the best state right now. I won't take advantage of you, and I don't want you doing anything you might regret," he explains as he looks down to meet your gaze.

You're staring up at him with those big puppy dog eyes that you always use as an effective method to sway him. Tonight, though, is vastly different.

"C'mon, doll. Don't look at me like that. If you still want me in a few hours, when you're sober, that is, then I am all yours," he promises, trying to bargain with you.

You stick your lower lip out a little unintentionally, giving him the cutest pout he's ever seen. "Sober..." you repeat, looking away almost in shame as you add, "Promise you'll still want me then?"

Steve tilts your chin up with his finger and forces you to lock eyes with him. "I can promise you. I've never wanted anything more in my life than I want you. And that's never going to change."

Tantalizingly, he runs his thumb across your lower lip, a small smile playing on his lips. "But, I need you to be sure that this is what you want. I want you to remember every moment, not just bits and pieces of it, and know that everything we do is your choice," he says softly.

After taking a moment to process his words, you nod in understanding- noting the sincerity in his eyes. The room fills itself with an assortment of emotions, ranging everywhere from desire, uncertainty, and just a touch of venerable fragility.

Steve brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his expression one of soft neutrality. "Alright. Let's get you tucked in," he whispers, his voice a low murmur.

You let go of his jacket after he scoots back on the bed, bringing your knee from the other side of his leg and lying down. You curl yourself into a ball, and Steve's eyes never leave you as you do so. He takes a moment to appreciate the mere sight of you back in his bed, and a wave of warmth rushes through his chest. His earlier desires are still very much present, but so is the respect for the boundaries he set for your well-being.

He gets up briefly to pull the blankets over you before sitting down in the comfy chair in the corner of the room to take his shoes off. The chair you'd begged him to get as well to fill up the empty space in the room.

After sliding the boots under the chair, he makes his way to the dresser to change into some loose-fitting sweatpants. When he's about to put a shirt on, you grumble a 'no,' that catches his attention and makes him turn to face you.

"No?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow up questioningly.

"Nuh-uh," you respond with a shake of your head.

He chuckles lightly. "Why not?"

"Warmer without it, not a bad sight either," you say softly, following it up with a yawn.

Steve smirks in appreciation of your usual playfulness. "If you insist," he concedes, deciding to forgo the shirt. He slips the shirt back into the drawer and walks back over to the bed.

He settles himself in beside you and lifts his arm up, allowing you to scoot into his side and rest your head on his chest. Happily, you hum, soaking up his warmth and focusing on his steady heartbeat. He then reaches down with his free hand to pull the blanket over himself.

"Uncomfortable?" you murmur, sleep laced in your voice.

"No, I'll be alright as long as you're comfortable."

A second passes by before you speak again. "Thank you."

"For what, angel?"

"For being so...you."

You feel Steve's chest rise and fall with a deep, contented sigh. His fingers trace slow circles on your back through your shirt. "Always," he whispers, his soft voice lulling you even closer to sleep.

The room stays wrapped in a soothing silence, the only sounds heard being the quiet breaths from both of you. As you lay there trying to sleep, you can't help but marvel at the man beside you. Everything about him is truly perfect, from his basic concern for your well-being to the way he has always taken care of you.

Your eyes begin to feel heavy, slowly shutting fully as you find yourself on the brink of slumber. Just before you succumb to sleep, you muster up the energy to mumble, "Steve?"

"Hmm?" he responds, his chest rumbling under your cheek.

"'M glad it's you."

"Wouldn't trade you for anything, sweetheart," he murmurs, placing a kiss on the top of your head. "And, for the record, I'm glad it's you too."

Steve continues to run his fingers over your back as you fall asleep. His fingers create a rhythmic pattern that mirrors the peaceful in and out of your breathing, only making your rest more soothing. He looks down at you and smiles to himself, reveling in the sheer joy of having you back, even if it's only for tonight.

Often the weight of his responsibilities feels too heavy to bear, but with you, there's a sense of solace that transcends the chaos of the outside world. Everything about you and your presence is a sanctuary. It's all a nice reminder that, after everything he does for everyone else, he's worthy of a little tranquility at the end of the day too.

Steve presses another gentle kiss into your hair before closing his eyes, savoring the sweet moment. "Goodnight, angel."

He hears your tired, softly grumbled response before he falls asleep. Though he tries not to let himself get too wrapped up in the moment, too used to your presence again, he does anyway. If there is anything he wants for the rest of his life, it's you next to him.

taglist!

@pigeonmama @rogersbarber @buckysprettybaby

if you'd like to be to my general taglist, feel free to ask or visit my taglist form to be tagged in more specific fics :)

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers angst #steve rogers smut #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #captain america #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers × you #captain america x reader #captain america × reader angst #angst #captain america angst #natasha romanoff #sam wilson #bucky barnes #captain america x you #captain america x female reader #steve rogers x female reader

[sosa2imagines]

I know where I belong. Part 1

----------------------------------------------------- Warning- Angst, This time we hate Steve 😭😂 ----------------------------------------------------- Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 ✅ -----------------------------------------------------

Thanos took a toll on all of you but thankfully everyone were back safe and sound. Everyone expect for Steve the love of your life. He had his dance and he did return back to you and his friends but something was off.

He was clearly not happy. You all thought maybe it is because of his journey to the past. For two days straight he was grumpy it went on onto the third day then on the fourth day things were different Steve came back to the tower in a happy mood. Everyone was curious as to why the captain is all of a sudden in such a good mood. That night he slept like a baby cuddling you and you were content that he is finally back to being normal. Oh how wrong you were! Since that day Steve would go out daily and come back with a satisfied grin that would last until he saw you. You were confused by his reaction but brushed it off not thinking much about it.

From the third week onwards he was rarely in the tower. Most of the times he would stay in his Brooklyn apartment. He barely spoke to you, he avoided you as much as possible. Nat was worried about you, she found it weird and you tried to cover it but she was having none of it. It killed you when he would talk to everyone except you, day by day you felt the distance between you both grow. Steve would sleep far on his side of the bed. His cold behavior was shattering you.

Having had enough you decided to visit his apartment. And that's when you found out why he was avoiding you, you were greeted by the view of Steve balls deep in Sharon who was making stupid weird noises and Steve moaning whatever he can. You were standing there numb tears flowing freely you gave them few more minutes before opening your mouth "are you done?"

Steve scrambled up to cover himself cursing while Sharon smirked pulling the sheets over herself. Steve cursed under his breath "Y/n it's not" "Don't you dare" "Let me explain y/n you we" "Explain" you cut him off gesturing to come straight to the point. "You were not supposed to find out like this" "Then how was I supposed to find out ROGERS!?" You yell at him making Steve flinch. "I was going to tell you" "How long Steve" "Y/n please" "HOW.LONG?" you spat each word. "After I came back, three days later I bumped into her and we just clicked, we talked about our past and, I'm sorry Y/n I'm in love with Sharon" You knew about their past, you also knew how she had left him after he had found her cheating on him on his bed. "She had cheated on you" you remind him voice small trying to control the urge to cry more. "She has changed I can feel it after all she is a Carter" You didn't say anything else just stood there staring at him and to his surprise you gave him a tight slap on the face even if it pained your hand. Sharon was quick to get up giving you a 'what the fuck' look and boy she had it coming you launched at her your fist colliding with her jaw and another breaking her nose. Once you enter the tower you walked as fast as you could in desperate need of air, hoping you wouldn't run into anyone as you dashed down the hall, your eyes trained on the floor, throat closing in on itself painfully, not noticing Tony looking at you in concern only for you to bump into Nat. “Y/n? what’s wrong?” You wanted to talk but you were struggling "He...he..How could he do this to me Nat?" You sob into her arms "Y/n calm down who did what?" Tony rushed to your side Nat looked at Wanda who was quick to read your mind she gasped "that bastard", thank god for her powers she made it easy for you, Wanda told them everything. "I should have known" Nat hissed. Tony and Sam exchanged looks. You were like a sister to Tony and Sam even though you were best friends and partners in pranks. Their blood was boiling not able to believe the golden boy lost his mind.

Wanda was hesitant to leave you alone in your old room but you begged her and she agreed not before making you promise that you won't do anything stupid. After she left you fell on the ground bringing your knees to your chest and you cried your heart out. All of your dreams crushed and thrown out the widow because all of a sudden he was in love with his ex.

Few days later when Bucky finally arrived from his vacation he was more than excited to see you, his bestfriend after Steve obviously. But when he entered the common room he was greeted with silence, he instantly knew something was wrong. He could feel the negative vibe. He saw Tony and Nat who were avoiding his gaze, he asked them if something happened but both were quiet not knowing how to tell him what his best friend did. But that did not stop Sam from opening his mouth, he told Bucky everything without any filter. Bucky was blanked he couldn't wrap his head around the fact Steve who was a shy kid would do something like this. Clenching and unclenching his fists Bucky was shaking. "Where is she?" "In her old room" Nat told him and he ran towards your room.

You were lost in your own world when someone knocked on your door and thank god you opened the door you were shocked eyes glossy and as soon as you whispered "Bucky" he was quick to hold you in his arms and you cried and cried in Bucky's protective hold.

----------------------------------------------------- (So here is the first part for the alternate version, I hope you guys like it and feedback as always is appreciated. Lots of love to you all, take care and enjoy 😊❤️) ----------------------------------------------------- Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 ✅ -----------------------------------------------------

#sebastian stan characters #chris evans characters #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader fluff #steve rogers angst #bucky barnes fluff

[glorystark]

His Saviour | Part 1

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You disobey one of Steve's orders in a mission but you don't think about the consequences...

Warnings: (TRIGGER WARNING!) mentions of self harm and suicide, mentions of killing and torturing, pure Angst no happy ending, mentions of injures, dark!Steve Rogers, swearing, minor spoilers of Black Widow, Steve being an asshole in general

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

Featuring: The original 6

Disclaimer: please don't read this if you're not comfortable with any of the topics below or/and if they trigger you. This is just a fiction and it's never ok to act like this. I'm not romanticizing any of these topics and this behaviour!

You are sitting in the Quinjet, observing everyone who is injured in different ways. Natasha has been stabbed in her right thigh, Clint’s left ankle has been twisted, and Bruce, although not injured, appears exhausted due to a significant code green call, during which Nat almost lost him trying to retrieve him. Thor has a few scratches on his face. Everyone’s faces show bruising in different areas, and their bodies are still aching. But you, you have been injured the most. Your right wrist is broken, and you have been shot in your left leg, though the bullet wasn’t deep and didn't cause major damage; otherwise, you probably would have passed out by now. You still have trouble breathing, and your voice is sore because one of the HYDRA agents almost choked you to death. Your face is bruised, you can only open your right eye halfway, and your lips are swollen. The numbness has made it so you can barely feel any pain. When everyone saw you upon returning to the jet, they were extremely worried. You didn’t possess inhuman powers and weren't a super soldier, but you used to be a well-trained assassin and spy in the Red Room, closely partnered with Natasha Romanoff before joining S.H.I.E.L.D. So, it was surprising for the team to see you so battered, though they understood the mission was challenging.

Everyone needed a break upon returning to the tower. Initially, everyone thought it was a straightforward mission: infiltrate a high-security HYDRA base, get two flash drives containing vital and dangerous information, and exit. What no one knew was that it was a trap, with far more agents present than expected. Eventually, you managed to escape, but only securing one of the flash drives.

As everyone settled back in the jet, Bruce finished removing the bullet from your leg and bandaging Nat’s thigh. Thor bragged to Tony about his usual lack of injuries on missions, joking that he could have taken down all the HYDRA agents that day if he hadn’t been 'unlucky', which elicited laughter from Tony. Clint checked on Nat while she recounted a memory from Budapest. Meanwhile, you contemplated going home for a long shower until you noticed Steve, whose eyes were fixed on you with intensity. Confused, you assumed he was lost in thought, but you were wrong.

“How could you be so reckless?!" Steve's voice boomed through the jet as he stood up from his seat, his gaze piercing into yours. Everyone stopped what they were doing, surprised by his uncharacteristically loud tone, given his usually calm demeanor, even when upset. You looked at him, uncertain of what to say. You understood why he was angry; you had disobeyed an order. However, if not for your 'disobedience,' you wouldn't have acquired half the information you have now. To you, this seemed like Steve Rogers throwing a typical Captain America tantrum.

“Well, are you going to answer, or are you too stupid to respond to a simple question?" he growled, advancing toward your seat.

“I wasn't being-" you began to mutter, only to be interrupted by Steve.

“Speak up," he demanded, his voice cutting you off. You met his gaze, puzzled by his demeanor.

“I wasn't being reckless; I was being thoughtful. The-" you tried to explain, but Steve interrupted again.

"Thoughtful?! You call that thoughtful?! Really, Y/n? It's clear you don't understand the difference between stupidity and thoughtfulness.” he retorted.

“Will you stop interrupting me?" you interjected, your voice growing louder as you rose from your seat. You locked eyes with Steve, standing almost chest to chest in front of each other.

“I wouldn't have interrupted you if I knew any useful words were going to come out of your mouth," he countered, finally yelling, causing everyone but you to flinch.

“You have no right to yell at me like this, Steve.” you asserted, standing up for yourself.

"I have EVERY right to yell at you, you-" he began, but you cut him off this time.

"Why are you making it seem like I committed a crime? Yes, I agree it was wrong for me to enter that room alone, but I retrieved the flash drive we needed, didn't I?" you challenged.

“That is not the point right now. The point is, I'm your captain, and I gave a strict, direct order not to enter that room, and you disobeyed me.” he stated firmly.

That was all true. When you disobeyed his order, you knew he would be angry, but not to this extent.

You sprinted down the hallway, incapacitating every HYDRA agent in your path. You tried not to use your gun too often, knowing there would likely be guards in the room.

"Steve, I found the room," you said through your earpiece. You subdued the agent guarding the room where the flash drives were, and as the door swung open, more than twenty HYDRA agents stood before you, blocking your view of the drives on the computer table.

“Y/n, what did you just say? Get out of there now! Do you even know how many agents are in there?" Steve's urgent voice echoed in your ear.

“I do now," you replied, still facing the agents, who were also eyeing you cautiously.

"Y/n, this is an order. Get. Out. Of. There. Now.” Steve commanded, his tone almost a shout.

“Sorry, Steve, but people's lives depend on this.” you declared, charging toward the agents, disregarding Steve's pleas for you to retreat.

“Steve, I really don't understand what the big deal is. I got one of the drives, and yes, I went alone, but at least I obtained something that will help us.” you reasoned, taking a seat.

“Alright, y/n, I'm definitely sure now that you are deaf. You entered a room with so many HYDRA agents-" he began, only to be cut off by you.

“They were like 10 and they were really weak-" you defended.

“They were 27 trained assassins!” he corrected, making you widen your eyes.

"And do I need to remind you that your leg has been shot, and you can barely keep your eyes open, not to mention the rest of your injuries." he added mockingly.

“Okay, Steve, I get it, and I'm sorry for being reckless. Can we let this go now?" you pleaded, sitting down.

“Let this go?!" he started laughing, though his laugh lacked any humor. Everyone looked at Steve, unable to believe his behavior. They never expected him to speak to you this way, especially in front of the whole team.

You and Steve had been friends since meeting during the Battle of New York. You had a lot in common and quickly connected. A few months later, at one of Tony's parties, he kissed you, and the following day, he asked you out. It had been six months since then, and Steve treated you like a princess. He called you his savior because you helped him adjust to life after being thawed from the ice. He adored you. You had a few minor disagreements, but they were hardly fights, more like disagreements. You could never stay mad at each other, and now you couldn't believe the man who was laughing at you and humiliating you was the same person.

"Steve, I think that's enough," Nat finally intervened, her voice calm yet firm.

"Is it really? I think baby y/n hasn't learned her lesson yet.” Steve retorted sarcastically.

“Fuck you, Steve. You can't speak to me like that. I'm not a kid. If it wasn't for me, we wouldn't even have that one drive, and god knows how many people could have died. But you can't even realize that because I disobeyed ‘Captain America's orders,' and no one is allowed to disobey America's 'hero.' The only kid between us is you!” you shot back, your voice rising, though not as loud as Steve's had been.

“I'm a kid, y/n? Really? And what are you, a hero? Do you expect me to thank you now? Do you expect all of us to be on our knees thanking you?!" Steve challenged.

“That is not what I said!" you finally snapped.

The tension in the room escalated, and the team grew more uncomfortable by the second.

Steve smirked at your angered state.

“What's the matter, y/n? You seem a little bit defensive. I thought you liked being a hero. You know, because of the guilt, since you started killing and torturing people at the age of 8.”he said, still wearing the hurtful smirk on his face.

The whole team gasped, especially Natasha, whose story paralleled yours. You looked at Steve, unable to believe what he had just said.

“You seem shocked, Agent y/l/n. Oh, and Natasha, don't take this the wrong way. We all make mistakes in our life, but at least after we realize our mistakes, we try to make them up as soon as we can and not run away like a coward.” Steve continued, ignoring your reaction. You and Natasha widened your eyes, understanding what Steve was referring to."Steve..." Nat began, but Steve cut her off.

“I'm not done yet. Some of y'all look confused, well, let me explain it for you," Steve said, addressing the rest of the team.

"Steve, don't." you murmured, your voice weak now. You weren't even sure if anyone heard you, and you were right. No one heard you, but Steve who chose to ignore you.

“Our dear y/n y/l/n was a well-trained assassin back in the years with Natasha Romanoff in a place called the Red Room, which I'm sure you've heard about. Before even Natasha was out of there, Agent y/l/n found a way to leave the Red Room, a way to save every girl, from children to adults, who were mind-controlled into killing, and even worse. But do you know what she did instead?" he turned around the room, looking at everyone as if it was a show. No one said anything; they just kept looking between you and Steve. It was getting harder for you to focus on your breathing.

“Well, in case you haven't guessed yet, she just left everyone who could've been saved, even her best friend who is sitting right here with us.” he said, pointing at Nat.

“And even though she could've killed Dreykov, who was the leader by the way, with her genius plan, she didn't because she was a coward.” he said, emphasizing the word coward.

You've never felt so small and betrayed. You couldn’t believe he was using your awful past against you. When you confided in him, he comforted you, assuring you it wasn't your fault. That you’ve been through a lot and you took the only chance you had to save yourself. And now… now he was a different person.

“Cap that’s enough, it’s not our business what she did in the past. We all did something in some point that we aren’t proud of. She made up for that mistake many times now, since the battle of New York until today’s mission. I’m sure she still feels guilty and you’re just making it worse.” Tony looked at your trembling sight, standing up from his seat and walked towards Steve. The rest of the team nodding along, glad that Tony stood up for you because they were frozen themselves.

“Oh yeah Tony, you’re right I’m sure she feels guilty, don’t you y/l/n?” He looked at you as if you were a kid

Everything about him was hurting you right now. His voice tone that humiliated you in every way, his eyes that sent daggers to your way, his body that was intimidatingly towering yours, his smile which always made you happy and now it was only mocking you. Your throat is dry, your eyes are wet and you feel like your heart is going to come out of your chest in any second. You were hurt and unwell, and everyone could see that, everyone but Steve.

“Agent y/I/n do you feel guilty about your past?" He repeated his sarcastic question.

"I wouldn't worry about that too much since you have a good way to cope with your guilt right?" He continued.

You looked up at him frighteningly, understanding where he was going.

“Steve don't you dare." you whispered, finally being able to say something.

Everyone was confused since they had no idea what you both were talking about.

“you seem scared agent." Steve smirked at you sending shivers down your spine. It hurts so much more that he wasn't even using your name anymore, he felt like a stranger to you.

“SHUT UP!" you had never yelled so loud in your life, the whole jet shook. Everyone flinched but Steve. It seemed like he was waiting for this.

“Come on y/n are you that afraid of everyone knowing how you used to deal with your problems, or do you still do it?"

Everyone was quite once again, something in them wanted to know what Steve was talking about but they also didn't because of the way you reacted.

You looked at him not saying anything but your eyes were begging him to stop. You've never been in such a vulnerable position, especially considering everything you’ve been through.

“oh don't tell me you're gonna cut your wrists open again because you feel guilty you didn't get the second driver."

Everyone froze and widened their eyes, silence filling the jet. No one knew that you used to harm yourself until you started dating Steve, he was the first person to ever know. You felt so comfortable around him that you didn't want to have any untold secrets.

You thought about what if you guys break up but you convinced yourself that even if you guys separate your ways from each other at some point, you're definitely going to stay friends and he's never going to tell your secret to anyone because you believed he was a good man. You trusted him more than yourself and now he proved you all wrong.

You didn't cut anymore, because you found a way to save people. If it wasn't for Nick Fury, making you join the team you'd be long gone by now. But you didn't have a reason anymore, you were happy you had a new family and a new job, everything was perfect for you. Now you felt alone all over again and you didn't even blame Steve, you blamed yourself. You failed.

You started trembling more and started to see black spots. The team walked towards you to see if you were okay. Thor pushed Steve away, "Stay away from her," he warned, before walking to you. You heard Tony and Natasha yelling at Steve, Clint trying to calm them down but looking angry himself, Bruce and Thor asking you if you were alright, but you couldn’t hear anything anymore. It was so loud, but you only heard annoying mumbles. You let out a sob before passing out in the strong arms of the god, the last thing you saw being Steve's worried eyes…

A/N: This was my first (published) fan fiction. I apologise for any writing and/or grammar mistakes considering that English isn’t my first language. Feel free to correct me! If you enjoyed this, please let me know and let me know if you want to be tagged in the upcoming posts! (This fic will make a twist;))

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #the avengers #avengers x reader #steve rogers x y/n #tony stark #bruce banner #natasha romanoff #thor #clint barton #black widow #steve rogers angst #captain america #mcu #marvel #marvel mcu #red room #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve x reader #steve rogers and reader #angst #steve Rogers x Reader Angst #x reader #reader insert #marvel steve rogers #mcu steve rogers #steve rogers fanfiction

[heaven4lostgirls]

hope (S.R)

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warning: angst, a little bit of comfort.

summary: the aftermath of reader leaving steve gives him clarity and has them both realizing that he needs to work harder to gain his girl back.

word count: 1.6k

a/n: I am so sorry this took so long to come out, I’ve been swamped with uni work but I’m so happy you guys liked part 1, I will probably post a part 3 to this, which other characters do you ship reader with??? Steve is looking at some competition soon!

part 1 , part 2, part 3

tags: @nouk1998, @spngingerbread21, @blackhawkfanatic, @immyowndefender (if I wasn't able to tag you that means your tags don't work!)

Steve,

If you’re reading this, then you have realised I’m not staying in the tower anymore. Tony helped set me up in safe house for the next few weeks, I can’t stay here. You chose Sharon over me Steve and you must know that I can’t stay with someone who would choose another woman over me.

I need you to know that although it’s been hard for me to accept it, I understand. It’s not okay that you chose to leave without talking to me, but I understand if she is who you want okay? I am so grateful to have spent the last 3 years by your side, but I can no longer watch on from the sidelines as you look at her like how you used to look at me.

When I come back, hopefully I’ll be ready to talk, but I am asking you that if you ever held any form of love and respect for me, to give me this time to heal.

Thank you, Steve, for everything,

y/n.

Steve crumples your handwritten letter in his hand, the paper squashed in the palm of his hands as he throws back the bourbon in his glass. His eyes are red rimmed and his face unshaven. He has been a mess since you left a week ago, unable to move from his room, and spending his time rereading your letter hoping that he could find some small sign that you still loved him, still wanted him.

He was unaccustomed to this feeling of pain, when he got out of the ice, he assumed the pain of knowing that he had missed his time with Peggy was truly the worst form of torture but the agony of once having your love and affection and having it so brutally stripped from him, may just be at the top of his list.

He sighs as he uncrumples the paper to place it on his desk as he moves to lay back in his bed, he had been part of a repetitive cycle for the last week, working purely on survival mode before he’s interrupted by a soft knock on his door.

He knows better than to feel excited at the small hope of it being you however he knows that it’s Bucky and Sam checking up on him and bringing him food before they annoy him into getting into the shower. He can’t stand the look of pity in their eyes as they hand him his food, so he slams the door shut as soon as he gets it, placing it on his desk, he moves to the bathroom.

He turns the shower head all the way to cold, hoping it will bring some shock into his system, however because of his super soldier abilities, his immune system is fried and numb to the coldness of the water.

His eyes burn as tears roll down his face, sobs wrack his body as he pounds his fist into the wall in front of me which breaks at the force of his strength. He hears the door quietly open before he feels Bucky’s metal arm tugging him from under the water into a towel.

This has happened nearly everyday for the last 3 days, sometime on the first day, Steve had stopped acting like you abrupt leaving hadn’t affected him and broke down during his training session, to which Bucky had been helping him through his depressed state however all he ever really wanted was you.

“I want her back” Steve sobs into Bucky’s clothed shoulder as he feels his friend cooing and soothing him like a baby before he is gently placed on his bed. His body shakes with his painful sobbing as he feels Bucky rubbing his back. “I know Stevie, I know” Bucky sighs as he tucks Steve in after he exhausts himself from crying.

Meanwhile you haven’t been doing any better, your mental health slowly deteriorating at the acceptance of the end of your relationship with Steve. You had known somewhere deep down that throughout the past month whenever you had caught Steve looking at Sharon that this was the beginning of the end.

However now it was time for you to face the reality of the situation, you may have spent the last week crying your eyes out at sad romance films with ice-cream and chocolate  but you knew that enough was enough, you needed to talk with Steve and hear what he had wanted to say the day you left.

Running from your problems was not the best solution however you knew realistically you did not have the mental capacity to hear whatever Steve had to say and that it would only end up doing more harm than good considering how high strung you both were about the whole situation.

Now, as you step off the quinjet, you are greeted with Bucky’s genuine yet sorrowful smile. “Hi Buck” you greeted softly as you stood awkwardly, worrying if you could still hug him even though you knew he probably spent the last week comforting your ex-boyfriend. Not than you could blame him, they had been friends for far longer than the both of you.

Bucky just rolled his eyes before his smile widened as he pulled you into a tight hug, you breathed a sigh of relief and slumped into your friend. Your moment was interrupted by a loud voice chiming in from behind the both of you.

“Y/N!!!!” you and Bucky both separate, you with a look of amusement and Bucky with a look of annoyance. Peter’s joyful gaze found yours as he sprinted towards you. “I knew when you didn’t respond to the meme I sent you this morning, something was up!” he said excitedly as he spins you in a hug as a laugh bubbles out of you.

“Hey kid, yeah I was on a flight back from South Africa” you smile and separate from him before you see his joyful gaze darken at something behind you.

“Y/N.” you hear softly from behind you, and you freeze.

You turn around and place a polite smile on your face, not quite ready for the conversation ahead.

“Steve” you say and nod at him, he moves as though he’s going to hug you but thinks again and moves back and you’re somewhat grateful, you don’t think you’d be able to compose yourself.

You all stand in awkward silence for a bit before you break it, “I should uh” you gesture inside and he nods before he opens his mouth, “Can I help with your bags?” he asks nervously.

You were hoping to have a few minutes to compose yourself, but Steve is probably right to get the conversation out of the way.

As you both walk through the tower, you realise how quiet it is and make note to thank everyone for steering clear of the both of you.

As you both reached your old room since you had been sharing with Steve, you place you bag down before you turn to Steve who is standing sadly outside your room. “You can come in” you tease him and that snaps him out of his mood as he moves to sit at the desk in front of your bed and you sit on your bed.

“So” you both start before you motion to Steve to carry on.

“I love you y/n, I don’t want this to be the end, can we please work on this? I promise I’ll do better, and I won’t choose Sharon over you ever again.” He rushes out in what you assume is an attempt to stop the inevitable.

You smile at him in pity and before you can start talking you see him shaking his head as tears fill his eyes. “Steve, if you really wanted me as bad as you say you do, where was all this attention and affection this last month? Why did it take me leaving for you to realise how badly you fucked up?” you question and watch as he breaks in front of you.

The last week must have been hell for him, the same way the last month was for you.

“Please just let me try y/n, let me try please” he pleads as he moves from sitting in the small chair to kneeling before you as he grasps your hands.

You move your hands to grasp his face as you wipe his tears.

“Love, I will always love you but you need to realise how hard it was for me to sit here on standby every time you left me for Sharon, I need to choose myself for once” you confess and Steve sobs into your legs as you thread your hands through his hair as you try and calm him down.

You watch as Steve tries to compose himself in front of you before he looks into your eyes in determination. “I’m going to prove it to you” he says seriously, and you nod to placate him before he shakes his head in protest. “No, you don’t understand, I am going to prove to you how much you mean to me y/n” he says and some part of you is hopeful he tries as hard as he says he’s going to be this time.

“I’m not going to sit around and wait for you to make it up to me Steve, you’re going to have to work for it” you say, and he deflates but nonetheless nods in understanding, realistically he acknowledges that he deserved worse treatment. He just can’t stand the idea of you finding love and connection with someone that isn’t him.

#juliwrites #steve rogers angst #steve rogers imagine #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers hurt #steve rogers hurt/comfort #steve rodgers imagine #mcu #marvel #marvel movies #bucky barnes #peter parker

[imaginedreamwrite]

I’ll Get By

A/N: There are things I’m bound to get wrong about the 1940s and asylum’s, so please forgive me. There was also a lot of prejudice for people especially if they were gay, and there is a gay patient mentioned in the first chapter. If you’re uncomfortable with it please don’t read. Thank you!

Part 1: An Anomaly

1946 — St. Catherine’s Asylum

The heavy coating of stagnant rain water on the streets had nearly taken you out the moment you stepped onto the stone staircase of the building. The breath had been ripped from your lungs the moment you felt your feet slip.

You squealed in surprise and if it hadn't had been for the railing, you would have fallen on your backside. After righting yourself and fixing the starch nurse’s uniform you were deemed to wear, you unfurled your nearly broken umbrella and carried on.

You were rushing this morning, rushing into the front door of the asylum with your nurse's bag bouncing against your hip. Once you stepped through the door and shook off the umbrella twice, you had blown a curled piece of your hair out of your face.

“Close that damned thing right now!” One of the patients lingering near the door smoking—seemingly unbothered by the nurse who was supposed to be watching him—barked a demand. “Don’t you know opening an umbrella indoors is bad luck, you daft girl!”

You could have responded with ire at the man wearing faded blue pinstriped pyjamas, many other nurses had. I like other nurses, you knew he wasn’t mad, you knew he wasn’t the kind of man who lost his mind over drink or injury. He was a man who was stalwart in his sexuality and attraction to men, and for that, he was committed.

“Good morning, Mr. Samson.” You closed the umbrella and folded it up, adhering to his superstitions while offering him a small smile.

Mr. Lyle Samson was a man with streaky black hair and rather odd coloured eyes—one almost iridescent blue and the other brown—a crooked nose from it being broken, and thinly pressed lips. He was a cantankerous man, one who had grown more ire-some from the treatment he had received in the asylum. The doctors held little care for the patients, even less for men like him, and as it was, he had suffered as well at the hands of his family.

“Your lipstick is a mess, girl. Fix yourself.” He lifted the cigarette to his lips, inhaling the Camel brand smoke and exhaling from the side of his mouth. He had glanced you over, once more, before he extended his hand and clutched onto your wrist. He squeezed once then relaxed and squeezed again, a telltale signal he had used when he wanted to send a message.

“There’s someone new.” He mumbled under his breath, inching forward while staring you down with his blue and brown eyes. “A famous fella.”

“Famous?” You looked past him to the first floor nurses station, toward the nurse who was disposed to be monitoring him. “Someone famous?”

“Used to be, before the damned shit-hole government stripped him of his title.” He turned his head and spat a few inches from your feet, the aftermath of sucking back a Camel cigarette. “He’s in the men’s ward, hates the doctors.”

“Mr. Samson, smoke is over!” The haughty nurse who had been on monitoring duty for the Lyle Samson started her approach. You could hear the clack of her heels on the aged and worn wood floor, the heady stride of her feet as she rushed toward him.

You knew that atmosphere wasn’t kind to men like him, men who hadn’t wanted a traditional life that fit society’s norm’s in the 1940s. He was a man who was attracted to men, and for that, he was punished by both the authorities and his family.

“He’s fine, he was telling me about a new patient—“ you rose to his defence, vocally, and had immediately been chided by the nurse.

“He is not fine.” Her voice darkened, and her eyes narrowed explicitly toward you with a tempestuous manner. “He is finished his cigarette, and you need to head to the men’s ward.”

Your breath had hitched in your throat, your hands tightened around the handle of the umbrella. Your nails dug into the varnish of the wood, though not deep enough to leave a mark, your mind immediately racing. The men’s ward was no nurses’ top choice when doing their rounds, and there was often a lack of willing volunteers. For you to be assigned to the men’s ward, you knew it was some kind of hazing because you were the newest.

They would hand you over to the men on a silver platter, leaving you to the men, who were frequently mad and violent. While there were some who were left solely on lockdown and very rarely got to spend time in the common area, others were left to roam—within reason. You had spent time in the children’s ward, which was a close second to the least desired floor, and the least amount of time on the women’s ward.

“Me—“

“I don’t have time to argue, Nurse L/N.” She cut you off with a stern and harsh bite, directing her inability to care beyond base empathy toward you. “Now.”

Your feet carried you in a rush, moving you near the staircase that led to the men’s ward. You nearly tripped over your feet before you had even taken the first step. Your hand rest upon the wooden railing that would take you up the winding staircases. You would wander through doors that were locked every night until you got to the fourth floor, which was where the men’s ward was.

The asylum was laid out in 5 massive floors that extended through winding hallways that were dimly lit by old windows. On the main floor was the receptionist’s and the warden’s office. The doctor’s offices for the children’s and men’s ward were on the main floor, unlike on the women’s floor. The doctors themselves had no special interest in spending more time than what was necessary in those areas.

The women’s unit was on the third floor above the laundry, kitchen, medical examination and treatment rooms on the second floor. Next had come the children’s floor that was not nearly comforting enough for kids left behind or admitted. The fourth floor was dedicated to the men that were admitted and held in their own contained unit, like the children.

And then there was the fifth floor that was exclusively held and dedicated to the incurables. They were the men, women, and children who were so manic and wild, deemed impossible to fix, that they should be locked away and forgotten about. Lyle Samson was unfortunately going to be moved to the incurable’s floor after Doctor Rollins had determined his sick pleasures could not be fixed, and all attempts were feeble.

“The men’s ward…” your feet carried you slowly, every step felt as if there was an ounce of lead sewn into your flesh.

You moved through the staircases from floor to floor, starting from the main floor to the fourth. You stopped at the double set of wooden doors with frosted glass. The lettering for the men’s ward was scrawled in faux painted gold—a decorative addition to make people believe that this place wasn’t as nefarious as it actually seemed. You reached up and placed your hand upon the wood and pushed slowly, just enough to be able to slip through the door and into the ward.

The door felt heavy behind you as it shut with a bang, the force tipping you forward. All the weight of your body shifted to the front of your feet, more specifically your toes. You had nearly toppled, almost flailing entirely, until you felt a steady hand on your arm acting as a support pillar. However, you were soon to learn that it wasn’t just one hand on you but another, a large warm hand on the small of your waist that was immediately followed by a voice.

“The door always sticks,” you could only describe the voice as honey-laced whiskey, something deep and smooth but afflicted with a weariness, “you’re not the first nurse it’s nearly knocked over.”

The honey-laced whiskey voice belongs to someone you’ve never possibly imagined would be in a place like this. The man whose face was plastered across magazines—who had comic books created about him and had even starred in movies to stir the morale of the country during the war—was standing so close to you, you could see the green in his blue eyes.

His blonde hair was brushed out of his face and styled like you’d seen so many times before. There was a firmness to his jaw that allocated your attention before it was quickly drawn to the rest of him. His shoulders seemed unnaturally broad, and his chest was firm, despite the starchy grey uniforms the patients wore. You could easily detect the size of the American hero who had liberated men in Europe, and saved thousands.

The hero, who had been a beacon of light and hope, was squandered after the war. The papers called him mad with grief, a man who had seen the horrors of war and lost all sense of self. It happened after he had lost one member of the unit he led. The Howling Commandos lost Sergeant Barnes, or Bucky as he was known as, and Captain Rogers was never the same.

Although standing here now, looking at him as he held you steady after you nearly fell, you see none of the madness he was accused of. There was nothing whatsoever in his blue-green eyes to make you think he was mad enough to be here.

“Thank you…Captain Roger’s…” you spoke with hesitancy and the sound of your voice was enough to break the spell he had you under. In a moments notice, you’d been called to the nurses desk, breaking the firm yet gentle hold he had on you.

You turned your back to him and fixed your nurses cap, only recognizing his eyes on you when you felt heat starting to grow in your belly.

#I’ll Get By series #I’ll Get By #I’ll Get By Masterlist #asylum!Steve Rogers #asylum!Steve Rogers x nurse!Reader #1940s!steve rogers #1940s!Steve Rogers x nurse!Reader #Steve rogers x nurse!Reader #Steve rogers x reader fluff #Steve Rogers x reader smut #Steve rogers x reader angst #Steve rogers x reader imagines #Steve rogers imagines #steve rogers imagine smut #Steve rogers imagines fluff #Steve rogers imagines angst #Steve rogers imagine fluff #Steve rogers imagine angst #1940s au

[welldonebeca]

Android Hero - Masterlist

Summary: Worried about your well-being, your sister convinces you to accept the robot your company has been given. Steven cooks, cleans and takes care of everything you might need in your house. When you jokingly suggest that he start making the decisions on your life, your relationship changes to something very different. His program really is irrelevant. aka.: Obsessed robot boyfriend Steve. Pairing: Robot!Steve x F!Reader Warnings: Future AU. Robot!Steve. Underlying angst, I think. Tension. Seduction. Smut.  Masturbation. Sex toys. Vaginal fingering. Degrading kink. Dirty talk. Orgasm denial. Orgasm control. Edging. Unhealthy relationships. Hurt/Comfort. Possessive sex. Overstimulation. Multiple orgasms. Fluff.

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8

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"Android Hero" was posted on my Patreon in January. To read it now, subscribe to my page! It's just $2 a month and I post everything there earlier!

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[daemonwhitedove]

𝐁𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄 cuddled you back to sleep after you had woken up from a nightmare.

Their hands tenderly wander your form, soothing every tremble. Steve's fingers trace delicate patterns across your skin, while Bucky's lips graze your silken neck, gently nibbling. The warmth of the blanket envelops the three of you, cocooning you in a comforting embrace. You feel their steady breaths, a soothing rhythm that lulls you into a tranquil state. Together, they create a sanctuary of safety and affection, guiding you back into the realm of peaceful slumber.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #james bucky buchanan barnes #winter soldier #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers #captain america #stucky x reader #stucky #steve and bucky

[amber-michaelson]

My Two Big Boys

Steve Rogers x hurt reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: sometimes your boyfriends have a hard time at work and bring it home making it worse for you

Read at own risk

Warning: reader gets hurt

You knew something was up when they didn't arrive in the same car or the one just grunting when you ask about the other you knew you were gonna be in for it when they didn't even look at eachother.

Yn pov

I sighed the the only thing that anyone could here was the knifes and forks scraping against the plates as we ate dinner, i rolled my eyes 'next time I should just get the paper plates' "so how was work" i asked but only got a one word answer 'good' and 'ok' and tensed and Steve just got up and left to eat in the lounge "what-" I was interrupted by bucky standing up and left to go eat in the den, my heart started to ach as I just wanted a nice dinner with my partners but sometimes that's just to much to ask I decided I wasn't hungry anymore and put my food in the microwave and slowly made my way up to the bedroom but paused on the stairs "goodnight" I called out but no response "wow never knew you were angry at me" I muttered to myself walking into the bedroom and changed into my pj's and brushed my teeth before getting into bed I stayed a wake a little longer wanting at least one of them to come to bed but they never did 'good night I guess' I shut my eyes and drifted into a restless sleep

▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎ Next day ▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎▪︎

I woke up to the sounds of shouting coming from down stairs and I jumped out of bed and running to see what was going on only to find Steve and bucky arguing over something stupid but it got serious when bucky picked up a pan and threw it against the wall "what the hell" I yelled but was blantly ignored "yea I can do that to bucky" Steve yelled picking up my glass vase and threw it near me shattering against the wall and a few of the shards hitting me and cutting me in the process, I yelled in pain which finally court their attention "yn shit fuck I'm sorry" Steve panicked rushing to me pleading for my forgiveness as bucky rushed to get the first aid "fuck" I said pulling a small shard out my cheek "baby I'm so sorry" he said leading me to sit down "I'm fine steve" I whinced he carefully wiped some of the blood off my face "no it's not fine I could've really hurt you" he growled to himself sitting down next to you "i got the first aid" bucky said walking back into the room and settled the first aid kit beside me the tension filled the room thickly as bucky started cleaning my wounds "Steve can you please get me some water" I asked glancing at him "sure babe" he said giving me a sad smile and left the room "you know it's not his fault" I murmured to bucky who growled out in frustration "it could've hit you yn" he muttered "it wouldn't have happened if I wasn't there I should've left you guys alone" I said staring into his eyes "once I heard the shout I sprung into action like I always do but look where that got me" I giggled, I was always the one trying to sort out people's fights it was just a natural thing I learned to do "but it shows you, you have a big heart" bucky said giving me a one-sided smile "but my big heart can be a fool sometimes" I said and turned my gaze to Steve who was leaning against the door frame "but it's your big heart that makes us love you so much" Steve smiled walking over and handing me the glass "done patching you up doll" he sighed and looked at Steve "I'm sorry" "I'm sorry too" I smiled "my two big boys back together".

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#x reader #angst #x reader angst #avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x reader angst #bucky x reader x steve #steve x reader x bucky #bucky barns x reader angst #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers #bucky barns

[sebastianstanisahotmf]

Overlooked

Steve Rogers x reader

A/N This fic is about how overlooked Steve's trauma was in the films. It's just my opinion since he definitely would have had struggles but they weren't really seen in the films. Once again this is just my opinion. Idk if I like this though so I might delete it. I'm not sure though. Also, all mistakes are my own so if you see any feel free to comment them and likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated.

18+ MINORS DNI, THERE'S NOTHING EXPLICIT IN THIS FIC BUT IT DEALS WITH HEAVY THEMES

Summary Steve is struggling and you convince him to get help

DO NOT REPOST ON ANY OTHER APPS/SITES. THE ONLY PLACE THIS FIC IS ON IS TUMBLR.

Warnings Fluff, angst (a lot), allusions to being suicidal kinda (if these things trigger you in any way then please don't read it)

Steve was your everything. He was the reason you woke up with a smile every day. You trusted him with your deepest secrets and he does the same with you. That’s how you got into the position you were in. 

Steve was lying on your chest while you ran your fingers through his soft hair as he sobbed. It broke your heart to see him in such a state but, there was nothing you could do but hold him until the crying stopped. 

This wasn’t an unusual situation for the both of you to be in. This broke your heart when you came to that realisation since it made you think of how much you saw Steve in such a state.

It was because of Steve being misunderstood by everyone. Everyone saw America’s golden boy who bravely fought in WWII and continues to fight for justice. They saw his best friend -formerly the winter soldier- fighting his inner demons and PTSD. 

What they didn't see was the man who was scared to admit he was tortured by memories as well. They didn’t see the man who had nightmares almost every night. They didn’t see the man who would cry for hours on end thinking about the people he watched die, the people he was too late to save, the people he thought he should have swapped places with. 

They might not have seen that, but you did. You saw the look of pure horror on Steve’s face after each nightmare, you saw the way his hands trembled and you saw the way Steve would try to fight back the tears. You saw everything. 

Steve was so thankful to have you in his life. You brightened his day and made life worth living. Especially in moments like these.

His arms were wrapped around you as he snuggled into your chest. The blanket was over his head; a cocoon of safety, protecting him from the outside world. 

As his sobs turned into whimpers and his breathing evened out, you slightly lifted the blanket so you could look at your boyfriend.

“Do you wanna talk about it baby?” you questioned.

“Could y-you just hold m-me for a bit l-longer?” he replied.

“Of course I can,”

You stayed like that for a while before a thought entered your mind.

“How about we tell Dr Cho or Banner about this Stevie.”

“W-why?” He stuttered, trying not to panic.

“Because babe it hurts me to see you in such a state, especially as often as it has been happening lately.”

“It’s not that bad doll. Bucky’s got it worse,” he responded.

“Maybe he has, but that doesn’t take away from your struggles.”

“B-but what will everyone think? I’m supposed to be Captain America, the man with a plan. Their symbol of hope,” he said, starting to hyperventilate.

“Look at me, Steve,” he lifted his arms so he was resting on them and facing you, “Breathe with me,” you took slow, deep breaths in through your nose and let them out through your mouth.

Steve started to copy you and in no time, he was back to breathing normally.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time baby. Nobody is,” 

“B-but-”

“It’s okay to have struggles. You have every right to ask for help. You went through a war, lost your best friend and then woke up seventy years into the future. If anyone deserves to get help it's you.”

Steve looked at you with pure admiration and love in his eyes. 

“I love you so much, doll.” He leaned in to kiss you, it was so gentle and full of love.

“I love you too Stevie, that’s why I want you to get help. Please. I’ll go with you if you want and I’ll be there for you. Every step of the way.”

“You’re perfect darling,” Steve replied, laying back down on your chest.

“So does that mean you’re going to ask Dr Cho or Banner for help then?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I will do it tomorrow,” Steve looked up at you and then continued in a voice so small and innocent it almost didn't sound like him, “Will you still come with me?”

“Of course I will babe,” you responded with a smile.

_________________________________________

The next day, you woke up to Steve kissing you on the cheek and smiling at you. 

“Good morning, doll,” he whispered.

“G’morning baby,” you replied, kissing him.

“I already booked an appointment with Banner at 1:15pm.” He told you with a smile on his face.

You pulled him down to kiss you, “I’m so proud of you Stevie,” you kissed him again, “so proud.”

Steve’s cheeks had gone red from the praise. Then, he got up and went into the bathroom, leaving you alone in bed with a big smile on your face. 

Once Steve came out of the bathroom, you went inside while he went into the kitchen to make the both of you some coffee and pancakes.

Maybe Steve was struggling but he had you and that’s all that mattered. You gave him purpose and someone to love and he would forever be thankful for that.

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[buckystevelove]

Family Day Out

Family is everything

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

A/N: Sorry I have been so absent, my life has been so chaotic.

I will try to post more often.

Summary: This story is about a domestic and fluffy day in the life of the Rogers-Barnes family.

——————————————————————————

You woke up to the sound of little footsteps approaching your bedroom door. You opened your eyes to see Aurora, your and Bucky's daughter, standing at the door with a wide grin on her face. "Good morning, mommy!" she exclaimed, bouncing on her toes.

"Good morning, sweetie," you said, sitting up in bed and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's time to wake up, silly!" Aurora giggled.

You chuckled and scooped her up into your arms, carrying her back to her bedroom. Bucky was already up, sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand. "Good morning," you said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Morning, doll," he replied, grinning at you. "How'd you sleep?"

"Pretty well, all things considered," you said, smiling at him. "What's on the agenda for today?"

Bucky took a sip of his coffee before replying. "I was thinking we could take the girls to the park. It's a nice day outside, and I know Aurora would love to play on the swings."

"That sounds like a great idea," you said, nodding in agreement.

Audrey, Steve's daughter, came bounding into the kitchen, her blonde hair bouncing behind her. "Morning, guys!" she said, grinning at all of you.

"Good morning, Audrey," Bucky said, ruffling her hair.

"So, what's the plan for today?" Audrey asked, hopping up onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter.

"We were thinking of taking you and Aurora to the park," you said, smiling at her.

"Yay!" Audrey exclaimed, clapping her hands. "I love going to the park!"

Bucky finished his coffee, and the four of you got ready to head out. Aurora put on her favorite dress, a blue and white sundress that twirled around her legs when she spun. Audrey opted for shorts and a t-shirt, and the two of them looked like polar opposites.

Once you arrived at the park, Bucky lifted Aurora onto the swings, pushing her gently back and forth. Audrey was already off exploring the playground, climbing up the slides and running around with the other kids.

You sat down on a nearby bench, enjoying the warm sunshine on your skin. "It's nice to just sit and relax for a bit," you said to Bucky.

"Yeah, it is," he said, watching Aurora swing higher and higher. "I love being able to do stuff like this with her. It's something I never thought I'd have."

"Well, now you do," you said, smiling at him. "And you're an amazing dad."

Bucky's cheeks turned a little pink, and he leaned over to give you a kiss. "Thanks, doll," he said, grinning at you.

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing on the swings, exploring the playground, and having a picnic lunch on a nearby blanket. As the sun began to set, you all headed back to the car, tired but happy.

As you drove home, Aurora and Audrey chatted excitedly about all the fun they'd had at the park. Bucky reached over and took your hand, squeezing it gently. "I love you," he said, his voice filled with warmth.

"I love you too," you replied, smiling at him.

You all arrived back at the house, and the girls headed up to their bedrooms to get ready for bed. Bucky helped Aurora into her pajamas, while Steve did the same for Audrey. Once they were both tucked in, you and Bucky sat down on the couch, snuggled up together

#bucky x reader #bucky x you #avengers x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader fluff #avengers #bucky barnes x female reader #dad!bucky barnes #marvel #steve rogers x female reader #dad!bucky #dad!bucky x mom!reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky x reader x steve #steve rogers x reader angst #steve rogers x you #stevebucky #stucky x reader angst #stucky x reader fluff

[widowsofchaos]

8 with steve rogers please🥺🥺♥️ thank you

𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧

synopsis: a mission goes wrong, and all there is left is pain. but, there’s always light.

ao3

a/n: “You take me instead, do you hear me? Give her back and take me instead!” requested 8 from this dialogue prompt list, with Steve Rogers. sorry tumblr ate the inbox message.

warnings: mention of SA, ptsd, minor angst, recovery.

The ruins of ghosts’ past haunt you.

You were once as pure as a church, clean and holy —- now desolate, abandoned, and corrupted. Ruined. Broken pews where little children once bowed their little heads in prayer.

All these disregulated nerves alight with fire, and terror. Cautiously awaiting for the monsters to come out of the darkness, and finally devour the remaining carcass.

Five months ago.

Armed to the teeth with strapped weaponry, and confidence. An abandoned Hydra base left to rot in the middle of wilderness.

Cautious steps tread the corridors with precision, and stealth. As your husband was scouting the other end of the base, he entrusted you to be safe.

Found a laboratory, old vials of chemicals, and gasses. Dead silence hung over you as a wet blanket—- ears straining, faint footsteps near.

It was a blur.

All you can recall was the acidic scent of gas, shouting, a kick to your ribs, and your name being shouted through your comm.

His sweet voice bellowing, pleading for your life, sweet Steve. ‘You take me instead, do you hear me? Give her back and take me instead!’

Held onto those words wound tight, as if you could weave them between your fingers from it’s vibrations, pull the static itself and wear it as brass knuckles.

Endless days of pain, stripped of your sanity, stripped to the marrow of nothingness. Girlflesh licked and bit at, one eye swollen shut, and upper lip plumped to a ripe bruise.

Split knuckles, torn and raw. Calculated blows bled to feral clawing, and biting, punches earning cherry stained ivories. Pinned to the cold floor by your wrists, and ankles by filthy palms, multiple men snickering in German, as they hovered over you, thrusting as swine.

Locked away to rot, no sunlight, no fresh air, only the stale scent of your urine, and … other bodily fluids. Every few hours, another agent came, and beat your weakened state.

It was hell.

Time was nothing but imagination.

Until finally, yells and gunfire erupted from the outside. A man’s skull smashed against the door, bursting the metal door wide open.

Light surrounded his blonde tresses as a halo. Towering over you, with soft hands.

He gently held your body, causing you to shrill in agony. Steve silently cried over you, whispering ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry’ under his breath, pleading for forgiveness for every wail that seeped from you.

Steve held you all through the ride on the jet. Friday’s monitors checking over your vitals, and not even blinking away.

Once the doctors at the compound told him the extent of your injuries, and what was found inside of you. He nearly broke into a rampage that only settled with Bucky tackling him into a bear hug.

The mental scars weren’t healing. You felt pathetic, and weak. You never lost control.

Tiresome training that stretched itself through hours, day after day, demanding for the most brutal discipline from Natasha. Demanding for more and more, barely any water breaks—- for a moment to breathe.

Compulsive need to feel the pain, to bare your teeth in reaction, triggering fear which led to lashing out and screaming—- and a concerned Natasha.

Eventually, this habit led to a halt with a towering Natasha hissing, enough . Her green eyes lidded, with concern. Hands at the jut of her hips.

“Replacing the grief with aggression, isn’t going to fix it.”

“How would you know? You’re the world’s deadliest woman.” You snarked back, monotone and sarcastic.

A pregnant silence.

“I wasn’t always.”

Her tone is soft, and speaks with an unspoken feeling. You understood, but didn’t dare ask. Ending the conversation at that.

And it was never brought up again.

-

Sex only brought revulsion, not towards Steve. But towards yourself, all you saw was ugliness. A mere touch brought you back to that dark cell.

Vices became familiar habits again, smoking, and rarely eating.

Every-time he touched you, you cried. Bawled as a child, hysterically. Hyperventilating as all he can do is watch, and guide you through it, just like the therapist instructed.

Days not spent on training, are held up in your bedroom, blankly staring up at the ceiling, tailbone aching from oversleeping.

The waves of stress crash against the strong willed ship that is your marriage. Irritated to even talk, disconnected from everyone, every mirror has been smashed.

Now you lay here, in the dark.

From the corner of your oculus, faintly in the crevices of your mind, there is an inky black mass—— just staring, always near.

And yet, somehow, you’re convinced that it’s real, that you must respond to the plaguing thoughts; but the body doesn’t recognize false visions, only fear.

The bedroom door quietly opens. Taking most of the entrances' space, divine shoulders squared, and those knowing blue pools with murky green swirls.

Coiffed blonde hair, and tender blue eyes. A nose that rivals a roman god, a man that would be mounted in a church, the face of a saint.

Your saint.

Century old eyes that seen more than it can bear, ever so knowing. Perhaps, he heard your thoughts, and came to your aid.

His footsteps dull against the carpet, gently coming towards you. His hand hesitatingly stretches out, unaware if touch is right.

But you yearn for it, silently asking for comfort.

Gently his hand lays on your chest, circular rubs to soothe the haggard breathing. Shooing away the bad thoughts as a mother would.

“Deep breaths.” Steve says, “It’s okay.” Filling your chest with gusts of air, being guided by his voice, with the lulling twang of that Brooklyn accent.

You want to break through the fog. You yearn to heal these angry wounds.

Watery sigh escapes you, eyes never leaving the ceiling, and for a fleeting moment, you wish you died in the cell. Then maybe, you wouldn’t subject your husband—-

“Mama?”

—- and your daughter to your troubles.

A creek at the door is followed by small footsteps. Her small body shuffles and ruffles on the blanket at the edge of the bed, quickly lifted by Steve by her belly.

Steve gently shushes her, a reminder saying, ‘be careful, remember, mommy isn’t well’. Soft snuffles, and grunts follow with each tug of the blanket, and your legs as support.

Climbing over your body, your daughter’s little chubby hands dents onto the flesh of your body. Slowly the black mass evaporates, its suffocating presence dissipates into nothing.

As a fog clears from your mind, and a small smile forms at the corner of your mouth. Steve smiles a little, his hand caressing her little head.

“Mama, are you okay?” Her baby voice lulls you, and brings tears to your eyes. “Yeah,” your voice raspy, “Mama’s okay.” Nodding weakly.

What was it your therapist said, again?

‘There’s always light at the tunnel. You just have to find it.’

Her little cherub brown cheeks puffed, and plump. Ripe for kisses. Her little fingers toying with your face.

‘And if that light isn’t your husband,’

Your eyes gaze up at Steve, love emitting from his blue hues. Your weak hand shakingly moves to his cheek, he leans into your touch, closing his eyes.

‘Then I’m damn sure, it’s your little girl.’

Slowly, your eyes sheen wet at the brim, looking at such innocence. Untainted, and pure. Life doesn’t end, it just changes, like the seasons. Some good, and some bad.

‘You don’t have to heal today, and I don’t expect you to heal tomorrow. But remember what we have created. She’s so much more than us.’ Steve’s words from therapy ring in your mind.

It doesn’t end.

“I love you, mama.”

You inhale a watery breath, smiling from ear to ear. A relief curling in your chest.

“I love you too, my little bubble.”

#widowsofchaos wrote this #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader angst #drabble #Alexa! play let the light in by Lana Del Rey

[sunvmars]

sour | s.r. [2]

pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader

↞ previous | next ↠

word count: 3.2k

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

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

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

“I’m pregnant, Steve.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you wanna do..?"

"Me?"

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

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

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

"I do?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do you know how far along you are?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't want this baby."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm pregnant, Buck."

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

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

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

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

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

"And how did he take it?"

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

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

"I know you are," you reply.

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

"Buck, can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bucky: We need to talk.

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

Steve: About what?

Bucky's reply was swift.

Bucky: You know exactly what.

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

"It's open," he called out.

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

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

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

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

"Buck-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Then why are you here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Steve chuckles under his breath, "Habit?"

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

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

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

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

taglist! @vicmc624 @tooruen @athenabarnes @blackhawkfanatic

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#marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fanfiction #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x reader angst #angst #steve rogers angst #captain america angst #captain america x you #captain america x female reader #steve rogers x reader angst #the winter solider

[sosa2imagines]

Promises broken, promises kept.

Warnings- Angst, comfort and fluff, pregnancy. -----------------------------------------------------

"I'll never break your heart." You keep thinking about it, why did you believe that line? Isn't it obvious when someone says that, they will break your heart?!

When you had joined the Avengers, your sole purpose was to help save the world. But as days went by, you became friends with everyone. Especially closer to Steve. Looking after Bucky brought you both closer. But you guys never crossed the line beyond friendship. Things were good.

When the infinity war happened and Tony took retirement, while the rest turn to dust. The remaining you were devastated. While Natasha was trying her best to get to Clint, along with running the world, you and Steve found solace in each other. The first time it happened was, when Steve ended up having a nightmare about Bucky and he slept with you. After you had calmed him, you both ended up kissing each other and one thing led to another.

You had strictly made the pact to be only friends with benefits. And that's how it was. Most nights were spent in bed together having amazing sex. Steve was obsessed with every single curve on your body. But as time went by Steve started to fall for you or atleast that is what you think.

"I promise you Y/n I will never break your heart." How naïve of you to believe him. Despite your past experiences and he knowing about them, you gave in. You both were officially a couple.

When Scott showed up and the possibility of getting everyone back came true. Everyone got to work along with Tony. When everyone came back from the past with the stones, you all were mourning Natasha, but your heart hurt a little bit more when Steve just couldn't stop talking about how close he was to Peggy. Like a good listener you listened to him with a smile on your face and the night ending in sex. Getting everyone back came with another cost. You lost Tony. You couldn't even tell him he was going to be an uncle. Yes, you got pregnant, apparently little bit of carelessness cost you. But you were not complaining.

When you told Steve the good news, you were hoping for any reaction instead of a "That's great, I'm happy". You tried and tried to ignore the burning sensation. Maybe you are over-reacting or just thinking too much. Just a week before the actual day of going back in time to return the stones, Steve took part in the trial of the time machine. You were scared to death. But Steve promised you “Nothing will happen to me baby doll, I’ll come back to you. I promise” And nothing truly happened to him. He kept his promise. He came back safe and sound. Just not alone though. He came back with Peggy, holding her close to his side. Steve’s eyes never left Peggy who was looking around in awe. But you still had faith in him. Maybe he is just happy and nothing else.

Bruce was the first to break the silence, while Sam and Bucky stood next to you protectively. “What have you done? You can’t play with past, present and future!” Finally, Steve’s gaze falls on you all, before opening his mouth, “Look I know you all are upset.” Taking a step forward from the platform with Peggy. “Peggy wanted to see the future, I’m going to take her back when I go to return the stones.” Before anyone can say something else, Steve started introducing Peggy to everyone. “Sergeant Barnes, so good to see you.” Peggy smiles, “Yeah, Hi Peggy.” He replies somewhat uncomfortable about the situation, glaring at Steve. When it came to introduce you to Peggy, Steve was bit nervous. But he had no choice, since everyone around, except for Peggy, knew about your relationship with Steve. Having waited enough, you introduced yourself, “Hi Peggy, I’m Y/n, Steve’s girlfriend.” Peggy’s smile faded, the anger on her face, if looks could kill, Peggy just murdered you in more than ten ways.

Later that day when everyone was back in the compound, Steve refused to leave Peggy alone. He brought her back to your shared apartment, to live with you and him. “Peggy, please listen to me, it is not what you think like, I was alone here, you have no idea how much I have lost, that’s when Y/n came into my life and I found solace in her.” Steve explains with puppy dog like expression, Peggy was furious, how dare you steal her Steve? Peggy was not going to let that happen. She would make Steve realize, he belongs to her and not you. “Oh Steve, I’m back now, you are not alone anymore. We can live our life, just the way we wanted.” Steve was over the moon, when he heard Peggy say this. But at the same time, he knew this was not possible for them at the current moment and then there was you, carrying his child. “Y/n…she is pregnant.” Steve tells her hesitantly, Peggy was not in the mood to hear any of this, as much as she wanted to rip Steve apart, she knew she had to be careful, with her words. “Is it yours?” “I..think so” Steve lies, while Peggy smirks. “Then there’s nothing to worry about. Show me around darling, we have got little time for ourselves.” And that’s what he did, Steve spent his time with her. Even the nights were spent with her. Steve would often come to bed late, after you did go to sleep.

He took Peggy to all the places he has been with you. From museum, to the diner, to the secret lake just behind the park. Whatever Peggy wants, Steve does that. Thankfully, you did get some alone time with Steve, only when Peggy use to go for bath. Apart from that time, she would be stuck by his hip. “It’s feels like ages, I have spent some time with you Steve.” Steve looks at you when you mention that, giving you a half smile. “Oh, baby doll, are you jealous?” He teases, but that didn’t hurt you, the fact he can’t see the pain in your eyes, hurt you the most. One night on your way to the kitchen, you saw Steve and Peggy dancing, to close to comfort, her eyes were closed, head resting on his chest. While Steve looked at her in adoration. When he saw you, he gave you a curt nod and a smile which you returned.

Maybe, just maybe Steve is using this time to be with her, till she goes back again. Maybe just maybe you have nothing to worry about. The night before the big day, Steve at last came to bed early. You both ended up having the best sex! Something the way he was nuzzling into you made you feel something is not right. “Steve?” “Umm?” “I’m, scared.” “Don’t be scared Y/n, everything is fine.” The way he said your name instead of baby doll, made you flinch. He did never call you by your actual name. “You’ll come back to me, right?” “I promise you.”

The next day, Steve was standing on the platform with Peggy, looking very happy. His hand firm on her back. He looks at everyone, before finally glancing at you with a small smile. He nods to Bruce to start, and on a count of five Steve is back in the past with Peggy.

Bruce, Sam, Bucky and you waited and waited. Five hours went by, Bucky was the first to break the dreading silence. "He is not coming back, punk." Sam gave him a look to warn him about you, but you just raised your hand and instinctively held your stomach with your free hand and ran away from there. When you reached the apartment, shared apartment, you fell on the floor and cried your heart out. Everything hurt, the pain was unbearable. The loneliness and emptiness started to haunt you. The pictures of you and Steve were looking like they are laughing at your misery. You took each and every single frame and threw it on the floor with mighty force, removing your anger. Your appetite was lost, you barely took care of yourself, forgetting you are pregnant.

When no one heard from you for a week, Bucky and Sam came to meet you. When you didn't open the door, Sam thought you might be out, but Bucky felt something wrong so before Sam can stop him, Bucky broke the door. They met with the site of dirty house, picture frames broken, Bucky kept on calling your name, when he reached the bedroom his heart sank. You were lying unconscious on the ground. "SAM!". They both took you to the hospital. That's when the doctor told them that you are pregnant and suffering from stress and dehydration. Sam was furious and angry with Steve, while Bucky was in his own dilemma. 'Did Steve know? What if he does not know? When did you found out? Do you regret it? What are you going to do now? How will you do it alone?'

After some hours you regain consciousness. "Bucky?", the mention of his name brought him out of his thoughts. "Y'/n, how are you feeling?" "Bucky, what happened?" you ask voice barely above whisper. "Doll, you were unconscious, because of stress and dehydration." You panicked when Bucky told you that, hand immediately going on the stomach, Bucky sensed it and was quick to inform you "The baby is fine. But you need to rest and take good care." Relief washed over you, tears forming in your eyes. Bucky took hold of your hand, sitting next to you, "Y/n?" "Umm?" "Did...did Steve...did Steve know?" You cried at that question just nodding your head unable to talk, what you didn't realize was Bucky crying with you. Bucky couldn't believe Steve left you in this state. What was he thinking? This was not his best friend and brother. "I'm sorry Y/n, I'm so sorry", you and Bucky cried together, Sam left to give you both some privacy and to hide his own tears. "Are you going to...what have you decided...have you decided on anything?" "I'm going to keep it" you sniffle, Bucky nodded his head in response. "Let me help you please" you were about to interrupt before he raised his hand to let him speak first. "For friendship shake, you have done a lot for me, please let me be there for you."

Bucky was quick to convince you. You refused to go back to your and Steve's apartment. So Bucky took you to his. Now his minimal furniture home was full of furniture, in door plants and other necessities. You made his home, cozy and homely. You both took care of each other. And to be honest you were glad he was there for you. The cravings and mood swings were getting better of you.

Bucky did not complain once. Even when you made him to eat peanut butter and cheese sandwich. "Doll you sure, you are craving this?" he gulps nervously looking at you, while you are busy devouring the sandwich, in a muffled voice you replied "Oh just try it and even if you don't like it, I can eat it." Bucky tried and surprisingly he liked the combination and before he could actually finish the sandwich happily, you were looking at him with teary pouty look, okay not at him but his sandwich, which he hesitantly gave it to you.

One night you had a nightmare about Steve coming back to take your baby away, you cried hyperventilating, breathing becoming difficult, Bucky stayed all night with you, helping you. "Please don't go Bucky, stay with me please" you begged and Bucky was quick to cup your cheeks wiping your tears "Doll I'm always with you and no one is going to take away our child, I promise you." When Bucky said 'our child' you felt secure. Since that night Bucky was the father of your baby.

He didn't even get angry when on random times, you use to miss Steve. "What if he is stuck in time?" "Then, he will do anything to come back to you." "What if Peggy has forced him to stay?" "Then I promise you I'll go back in time and kill her." “Ste…Steve he promised, maybe I did something wrong….” Bucky cups your cheeks to stop you from rambling and getting nervous again “Hey, hey look at me Y/n, I believe you doll. You didn’t do anything wrong. Steve is a fucking idiot, he has no idea what he has lost. I promise you doll I will protect our child and I will never leave you.”

The last month of the pregnancy was difficult, with the constant fear of going into labor. Ten days were left for the baby to born. But on the fifth day you were restless. The fact that you were dealing with this pregnancy for so many months with all these struggles, pains and discomforts made Bucky feel so empathetic towards you. You were really strong minded still fighting it all and that's what he loved about you. 

He saw that you were getting really restless and he knew what it meant. It was a clear signal that the baby might actually be coming today. He was nervous, but he needed to keep his calm and make sure everything was taken care of. He didn't want you to worry about a thing.

"There should be a machine, where the mother can transfer the womb into the father...ow!" You tried to joke to ease the pain. "Wow! That's a really nice idea. If only we could get that machine and I could do the whole process in my body instead of you going through all these pains and discomforts." Bucky replied keeping the humor. "No! I don't want you to be in pain" you cried, damn mood swings! He laughed at this statement of yours. The way you were being so protective of him even in this phase was very sweet. "Oh doll! It's the other way around. I wouldn't want you to be going through all these discomforts either. I'd take all the pain myself if I could."

"I really appreciate that Bucky....oh my god" you whined in pain. Bucky was watching you as you were pacing back and forth. As soon as you said "oh my god" he got up, his instinct was already kicking in and he ran to hold you. He was watching you closely because he knew you had started getting contractions now.

"Please tell me the wetness on the floor is something else", as he looked at the floor, it was wet and his face changed. He knew what that meant. He took your hands to comfort you. "Your water broke. We need to go to the hospital now and as fast as possible."

"Nah, I must have peed, I need to sleep!" He could feel that you were getting more and more nervous, going into a panic right now. So he needed to support you more than ever now. He was trying to keep you calm but it was hard. "It's okay doll. I know you're not ready for it but it's only natural that it should happen. You can do it my love. I'm going to be right here besides you, so don't worry at all."

He was holding you tightly and making sure that you didn't fall down. He was being so protective of you right now, trying to support and keep you calm. He didn't want you to panic right now as that the last thing he wanted during this stage.

"Don't forget the bag and call Sam to help you." Again, you were thinking about him, when you supposed to think about yourself and the baby. He quickly rushed into the other room to bring the bag which had all the items you would need. He returned soon with the bag in his hands. Bucky carried you in his arms towards the car, making you sit comfortably. He immediately calls Sam to inform him.

Your contractions were getting a little bit more painful now as you started struggling with the pain. Bucky was very calm even at this very moment. He had a sense of responsibility that he needed to take care of you. Your condition was clearly deteriorating and he needed to stay composed and strong for you. As he started driving, he was just trying to keep you calm and make you breathe slow and deep. You tried to distract yourself by focusing on the people on the road, to thinking about food, even the new Sylvester Stallone movie. Bucky was proud to see you being brave despite being in pain.

As soon as you reached the hospital you were taken to the maternity ward. The delivery was complicated, you nearly fainted twice, Bucky kept on encouraging you, telling you how proud he is. Labor was hard. But with lots of struggle your daughter was born. Healthy half super solider. When you held her, you cried but this time because of happiness. In the end the pain was worth it. Bucky was scared to hold her, but you encouraged him. When your baby girl got comfortable in his arms, Bucky couldn't believe it. He felt so many emotions. He secretly vowed to protect you both and keep you happy.

The nurse asked if you had decided on a name for the baby, which you immediately told her with confidence and no hesitation "Natalia Sarah Barnes." Bucky was shocked, he asked the nurse to give you some time to think, but you refused to change the name. The nurse left and Bucky looked at you for confirmation. "Doll, you gave Natalia my last name" "I know after all she is your daughter, Bucky" "I'm not...are you sure?....you can" before he can finish you spoke again, "Bucky remember when I had the nightmare about Steve taking her away?" Bucky nodded "You said you will protect our child, since then she was yours." Bucky was speechless, his eyes teary Natalia in his arms, he couldn't believe you gave her his last name.

Unlike Steve, Bucky never broke the promises he made to you and your daughter. He was a man of his words. He would do anything for you both.

As years went by things were starting to look good. Natalia was three now. Bucky was her dad and she was proud of him. Of course, you had told her about Steve, but it was her decision on what she wants to do.

As for you and Bucky, you both know, your relationship is more than just friendship, but at the moment you both are focusing more on Natalia rather than yourselves. But the possibilities of you both being together is endless.

----------------------------------------------------- @ashhsage I hope you like this, and sorry it took so much of time to get it done. -----------------------------------------------------

#sebastian stan characters #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers x reader angst #bucky barnes x reader #chris evans characters

[liarasstuff]

Happy 106th Birthday Sargent Barnes.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊🎊

#bucky x you #bucky x reader #avengers #bucky x reader fluff #steve rogers #steve rogers angst #avengers x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x reader angst #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #steve rogers x yn #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes fanfic #chris evans #dad!bucky x mom!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky x female reader #bucky Barnes birthday #happy birthday

[biggirllifestyle]

The Red Wedding.

Summary: Weddings are times for Celebrations, but this wedding takes the cake.

Pairings: Mafia!Steve Rogers x OFC

Words: 3.6k

Warnings: Violence lots of violence, and Peggy Carter.

A/N: It's been a while and I'm super excited to post this. This is based on a scene from a movie I watched today that just made my jaw drop super different but has the same premise.

When one is young there is always that time when you picture the perfect wedding, the perfection in every detail from the large venue with the gorgeous view to the smallest ribbon that would be used. Everything was methodical. Yet here you stood blood splattering your beautiful pearl white dress, hair in disarray, mascara smudged and running, and a loaded gun in your hand.

  Guests were frantically running around trying to find some sense of what the hell had just happened. From across the room, you watched your husband face you taking a step forward and then another until he was only a few feet away, you raised the gun pointing it at him, but not once did he flinch at your action.

“Me chingastes Steve, por ultima ves me chingastes hijo de puta.”

Taking a deep breath, you pulled the trigger.

-         3 Hours Earlier       -

The ceremony had been beautiful, Steve had gone all out on expenses never once asking anything from your parents. This had brought much joy to your father as he acted like the cat that ate the canary, every time he showed a hint of smugness you couldn’t help but roll your eyes sharing some meaningful glances with Steve.

In a sense yes, your father was earning a lot with your marriage to Steve, by having his business be administered by the biggest mafia boss in Brooklyn and if his price was to let him have his only child that was a sacrifice, he was willing to make. Well, not much of a sacrifice since you and Steve had been together for quite some time joined to the hip since he was a sickly kid until he rose in ranks and his abrupt puberty where he grew three times his size and could plummet anybody who looked at you funny into the ground.

With how long you both had been together it was almost inevitable for your engagement to be announced, everybody knew and everybody important was invited. With Steve and you deciding to keep the ceremony private (much to the chagrin of your father), with your parents, Bucky Steve’s best friend and righthand man, and Sam Steve’s other best friend present everything went smoothly just like you had always pictured.

The ride over to the venue was filled with heated kisses and touches that made you lose your breath; you could feel his smug smile as he kissed your neck. Everything was going as planned your entrance was greeted with big cheers and applauses, at some point you and Steve were separated he was being taken by Sam and Bucky to join the other boys while you took the liberty of greeting your other guest trying to make time before the real festivities began.

Half an hour later, after removing yourself from a painful conversation with your Tia where she went on and on about her newly installed backyard grill, you were able to meet with Steve again who looked a little disheveled but otherwise unharmed. He was grinning a stupid smile marking his face as he pulled you close, giving you small kisses and finally bringing you into a big hug, burying his nose into your hair.

“You don’t know how happy you’ve made me by tying yourself to me indefinitely.”

You huffed out a laugh hitting his chest at his remark, “Menso, I married you because I love you don’t be calling our marriage me tying myself to you.”

You gave him a small smirk, “I mean I can still get rid of you at any time.”

Steve let out a deep growl pulling you flush against him; you give a small yelp at his roughness trying to look around and see if anybody noticed, noting that most people were avoiding looking or walking toward your area. Steve jostled you again forcing your attention back to him, you knew Steve like the back of your hand and at that moment, you knew that if it would have just been the two of you Steve wouldn’t have hesitated to throw you over this table and fuck you into oblivion.

“Baby you really do know how to get me going, I can’t wait until we get home so I can fuck you into every surface that I can get you on.”

Bucky, who was the only person who was brave enough to come near you cleared his throat, he motioned behind him where several people had congregated to talk. Steve’s face turned stormy pulling away from you fixing himself to a proper state, he gave Bucky a nod who turned back towards the group, Steve looked pissed, and this worried you because you knew Steve and he would never let his emotions show especially in such an open venue where most of his competitors were present.

Whatever this was it was serious.

You grabbed his hand giving him a brief squeeze to let him know that it was okay, he gave a soft huff giving you a brief kiss before heading over to Bucky and the other men. You didn’t want anybody to see you worried, raising a glass to the DJ a soft cumbia started that got many people to join the dance floor keeping many busy and others distracted.

You watched Steve and the men as they talked in hurried hushed tones, you could see the tension building as one of the men who you knew was Tony who was from the Manhattan district showed something to Steve that made him madder. The music drowned out most people and they left you alone, just as you were beginning to relax you hear the tell-tale sign of your ringtone you knew you should have kept it silent, but you were waiting on a particularly important phone call from your firm for a recent case.

You grabbed your phone ‘UNKOWN NUMBER’ displayed across the screen, it confused you, so you let it ring not bothering to pick it up. The ringing stopped but soon after it started again, you knew you couldn’t ignore it any longer if they were going to keep insisting.

“Hello?”

“Finally, I get ahold of you!” A deep feminine voice answered through the line, “Congratulations on the wedding! You’re a lucky girl today.”

“Who is this? What do you want?” You looked around the room trying to see if you could spot anybody with a phone.

“Calm down kid, I just wanted to give you a little information on the man you just married,” The lady on the line laughed and you couldn’t help the annoyance that brought on you.

“Look lady I don’t know who the fuck you are but you’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

“Oh, sweetie I was just trying to make conversation, I just wanted you to know what your husband was doing or who he was doing just a few days a few days ago or specifically last Thursday.”

That stopped you cold, you knew exactly what she was talking about. Last week Steve had gone out early in the morning saying that he had an important meeting with a buyer, and he stayed out late almost coming home until early the next morning. You remembered since you had stayed up to wait for him and to finish working on some case files before you had to head out on your honeymoon.

“He worked me out all night until early morning, it was an amazing goodbye gift he gave me before he tied himself to you.”

At this point you were shacking both in anger and in sorrow at what could be the truth, you looked to where Steve was still preoccupied with his friends at that moment he looked up and caught your eye his face melted into something lovingly and you couldn’t help the choked sobbed that worked its way out your throat. You heard the lady on the line laugh at your sob and you knew that she was a sadistic bitch who was enjoying your pain.

“Quien chingados eres? You fucking bitch if you have the balls to call me on my wedding day and tell me all of this you should also have the balls to tell me your fucking name.”

She laughed again loving the fact that she was able to get you to this state, “You should ask him who Peggy Carter is and you’ll know in an instant that I’m not lying to you.”

The line went dead after and all you could focus on was the dial tone, you were fuming not just at this Peggy lady but at Steve for making you a fool. At this point you weren’t in control of yourself everything seemed so loud and too quiet as you made your way to Steve and the other men, pushing past them not caring who they were until Steve was the only thing you could see.

“Who the fuck is Peggy Carter?” Steve’s eyes widened at the name and all the other men in the group began to murmur amongst each other, but your focus was only on Steve who seemed to have lost all color.

“Baby how do you know that name?” His answer was enough to set you off as you punched his chest slapping the phone onto his chest, your only goal was to get answers from him and hurt him as much as you were hurting. Bucky tried to grab your arm, but Steve shook his head no and that just made you madder.

“Te la cogiste verdad hijo de puta? You fucked her a week before our fucking wedding, how could you?”

Steve was holding onto your arms trying to stop you from hitting him but also from hurting yourself, he pulled you forward until you were squished against his chest but that just felt like you were suffocating so you pushed him away.

“Answer me you fucking coward, did you fuck her?”

“No baby I would never do that to you, you know how much I love you.”

“Don’t lie to me Rogers or I swear to god I’ll fucking kill you.”

Just as Steve was about to answer a few gunshots ranged out across the room, Steve pushed you down until he was covering around you, and people began to run around as glass shattered and screams went around the room. Steve pushed you towards Bucky telling him to get you out of there as more shots were fired Bucky handed Steve a gun as he began to pull you towards the exit.

“Bucky let me go,” You screeched as you fought against him, he ignored you keeping himself close as he walked you towards the exit. From your position you couldn’t see much, just people running from every exit that they could find. Just as you were reaching the door you spotted a brown-haired woman walking towards where Steve was, seeming to ignore the chaos around and strolling towards your husband as if there was no care in the world. Her lips were painted a deep red matching her dress and something in you just knew.

This fucking bitch was Peggy Carter.

“Bucky you have to go to Steve, you have to tell him that Peggy is here.”

Bucky seemed to have come to the same conclusion as he watched Peggy making her way to where Steve was fighting some goon oblivious to her presence.

“I’ll be fine just go to Steve, give me a gun,” He whipped his head towards a conflicted look until he reached into his inner pocket and removed a gun for you.

“You better not make me regret this,” Were his last words until he was sprinting towards Steve dodging men as much as he could. You turned to the exit running towards the kitchen where you knew you could lose someone or find someplace to hide. Just as you reached the doors to outs you were yanked back by a strong force, slamming you onto the floor stealing your breath away.

You knew you only had seconds to react, you shot up a few rounds hoping something would hit. A grunt, and then a thump as the man fell over. There was blood and a lot of it, most of it had missed you but there was still a rogue spray that hit you. You got up shakily, you knew how to shoot a gun, but never had you killed someone like this.

Your insides felt loose and firm and you couldn’t help but throw up everything from that day until you were dry heaving. You must have taken too long because as soon as you steadied yourself somebody was already grabbing you. You tried to struggle against your grabber but stopped as you felt the barrel of the gun being pressed against your head.

“Don’t try anything sweetheart, now you and I are gonna take a little trip back into the reception” he started shoving you forward, “Can’t have you leaving your own party early now, can we?”

You grunted as he pushed you hard enough that your foot gave out a little, it wasn’t extreme, but it did cause you to start limping much to the annoyance of your captor. He pushed you towards the doors leading to the reception, Steve was bound to a chair Peggy was on his lap Bucky and Sam were surrounded by men keeping them from doing anything without getting killed. The moment the doors had slammed open everybody turned to you, Steve’s eyes seemed to widen as he looked at all the blood and your limping state, he began to fight against his restraints jostling Peggy out of his lap.

The gun being pressed to your temple stops him from doing anything else. Peggy huffs motioning for the man holding you to bring you forward. You didn’t have your gun anymore; Steve was incapacitated, and Bucky and Sam had every gun on them you knew that this looked like you had lost. The moment that you were close Peggy drew you into a hug, you recoiled trying to get away from her but a gun to your back stopped you.

“After our heart-to-heart through the phone, this is how you’re going to repay me?” Peggy pouted at you, and this made it clear she was crazy.

“Yeah, well I just saw it as some crazy bitch trying to ruin my perfect day, how would you see it?” That must have been the wrong thing as Peggy’s face became enraged, she swung her hand at you a sting running from your cheek where she struck you.

“Get the fuck away from her Peggy or I swear,” Steve yelled at her fighting to get himself off the chair, Peggy ignored him tooting in disagreement.

“Baby if you don’t stop trying to get out of that chair, I’ll start hurting your little bitch.” Steve seemed to be having a fight with himself trying to find a way to get out of this and get you to safety. Peggy walked towards Steve leaning down to whisper something in his ear that made him mad but made no move to fight.

“Now baby, how about you tell your wife about the wonderful time we had, how you told me how much you loved me and how the only reason why we couldn’t be together was that you were getting much more from the deal.”

Bucky, who was still on the ground, whipped his head towards you ready to say something but was stopped as the man behind him pressed the barrel into the back of his head stopping him.

“Just let her know baby, tell her what we did, and I promise you I’ll let her go.” Steve seemed to contemplate before dropping his head in defeat.

“It’s true, we were together last Thursday,” Steve made a face as if he was in pain, almost as if the words he was spitting out hurt, “I was having second thoughts about getting married, I didn’t know if you were the right person for me.”

Steve’s words hit you hard, all the pain and rage that was inside you was brewing and at this point, you were unsure if you were about to scream or throw up.

“Peggy she was there, and I took my chance to figure it out if you were what I wanted.” He lamely finished, his face twisted into a grimace but all you could see was Peggy’s stupid grin and that just made you angry. You slammed your heel into your captor and threw your head back until it collided with his face, and he released you with a yelp. Bucky and Sam seemed to have taken advantage of the distraction as they flew back against their own captors wrestling them into the ground. Steve slammed himself back smashing the chair into pieces to free himself. Your captor tackled you down, slamming your head into the floor obscenities flying at you before Steve practically ripped him off from you.

Peggy began to rush away but you took the chance from everybody’s distraction to go after her, you were unsteady, but she did not get far as you tackled her. She began to throw punches at you, one of them catching you in your cheek, the other splitting your lip, but you weren’t far off as you also landed your own blows.

“You fucking Perra, you ruined my wedding and I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Peggy reached around her trying to find a way to get you off her, her hands grazing the floor until she latched onto a shard of champagne glass from the earlier altercation. She lashed up cutting your arm and making you retreat as she tried to keep slashing at you. She rushed over trying to stab you screaming her head off at you as she did.

“He was mine; he was always mine and you fucking took him away you fucking bitch. He loves me not you.” She cried as she slashed your arms. You pushed her away as she stumbled back and fell just as she was going to get up, she was stopped by Bucky who had incapacitated everybody else.

Steve walked towards Bucky looking down at a struggling Peggy, “Take her somewhere else, we’ll deal with her later.”

You walked away, your leg was starting to hurt and the cuts from the glass were stinging, this wasn’t your fight anymore and you were done. People were rushing around, reinforcements from someone else, and at this point, you really didn’t care, you knew you would have to call your parents and check on them, you knew they had gotten out but still.

You reached down to collect a bottle of champagne that was still intact and an abandoned gun. You knew you still had one thing to deal with and you could finally head home and relax, but this would just have to be a priority. You turned back to the scene; your husband was still directing people trying to clear out as much as he could.

You watched your husband as he pointed at things around, he turned towards you, taking in your running mascara blood-covered dress, and messy hair, and all he felt was deep love at how strong you were in all this. He walked towards you trying to get as close as he could stopping short as he saw the gun in your hand, you raised it aiming at him but that didn’t scare him, the only thoughts that came into his mind were how beautiful you looked and how lucky he was to have you.

“Me chingastes Steve, por ultima ves me chingastes hijo de puta.”

Steve didn’t move and felt the bullet graze his arm, but he didn’t care as the rage melted off you, and concern was all he saw. You rushed forward discarding the gun and bottle, you grabbed at his arm trying to see the damage you caused but instead met a firm chest as Steve held you close.

“Chingate Steve, dejame ver, let me see your arm you fucking asshole.” You pushed away from him as you removed his suit to look at his arm, he began to caress your face you ignored him as you ripped away at his shirt.

“This doesn’t change anything you know, I’m fucking pissed at you asshole,” You looked up at Steve who only showed love in his eyes, “You’re lucky I don’t file for an annulment.”

Steve felt the breath being squeezed out of him, just the idea of you not being with him scared him.

“Baby, I promise you with all that I have and to my last breath that I was never with her, I’ve only ever loved you and I promise you that everything she said was a lie.” Steve was outright begging at this point trying to make you believe him, and you knew Steve you’ve always known Steve.

“Of course, I know, don’t be a pendejo about this I know you, Steve, I did doubt you, but I know that disrespecting me and us like that is not in you.”

You looked away seeing Bucky pick up the gun you had used on Steve as he pocketed away, he caught your eye and nodded at you and Steve as if to ask if you were okay. You knew he wasn’t asking about your injuries, so you nodded at him, he inclined his head and turned to Sam slapping him in the back which made the other man yelp and punches him back.

“Steve yo te amo, and I know you, I’ve always known what type of man you are,” You pushed up, your foot complained against it, but you brushed your lips against his which made him melt at your touch, “I love you.”

Steve let the tension out, kissing you passionately as if he were trying to engrave your memory into his brain.

“I love you too.”

#steve rogers x oc #positivity sleepover #steve rogers x reader angst #steve x reader #steve rodgers x reader #steve rogers x reader #plus size ofc #plus size character #plus size oc #steve rodgers imagine #captain america #james bucky barnes #mafia au

[imaginedreamwrite]

I’ll Get By

A/N: There will be things that I get wrong/may not be historically accurate, please forgive me!

Part 2: The Small Things

1946 — St. Catherine’s Asylum

The fall swept in with a whirlwind and just as soon as it had approached, it felt as if it would be overshadowed by winter. There was an overlying sense of dread for the winter to come, if the 1946 Farmer’s Almanac was right. The winter was set to be cold, with heavy snow headed for NYC and the surrounding areas.

But it wasn’t the weather that you wanted to focus your time on, or your thoughts. There was something much more important bothering you, or rather someone. The news that Lyle Samson told you about the celebrity in the asylum had made you take a pause when you first heard him say it weeks ago. And in the few moments following his whispered secret, you found out it was Steve Rogers.

Captain America himself, the hero that had saved thousands of people being in the St. Catherine’s Asylum—for the feeble-minded as it was called—was as shocking as it was mystifying. There was a countless amount of heroism that was thrown aside just as he was thrown into the cursed building.

The things he had done in the war, and likely had seen, could have driven him crazy if he actually had a weak mind and yet, it seemed as if he was anything but. Aside from the lifetime guilt that would likely plague him from the loss of his friend in the war, his mind had seemed sharp.

It was intrigue that made you search for the cause behind his place in the asylum, on your days away from the cursed building. With the very few resources you had as a woman in 1946, struggling in a Brooklyn apartment that left little to be desired, you had attempted to feed your curiosity. It wasn’t just the resources that you had lacked in, it was a lack of opportunity to talk to the man himself.

The action of the nurse who had put you on the men’s ward to begin with, had been rectified by Dr. Rollins, who had removed you from that floor. It had felt as if you were in limbo between working in the direction that the lead doctor had wanted you to go in, and being hazed as the newest nurse. Those with seniority had often sent the new nurses to the men’s wards, fully knowing that their outside contact with women was limited.

It was a prospect that was anxiety inducing for the newer staff members, as you’d heard from a few other nurses working in that ward. The men were maddened by the asylum themselves or the newest treatments that Dr. Rollins had wanted to inflict on the patients.

You’d wondered if the treatments themselves weren’t the root cause for their mental state, treatments like electroshock therapy or even lobotomies if Dr. Rollins thought the case called for it. You had never bared witness to the treatments themselves, rather you had been assigned the task of giving medicine, taking blood or delivering the patients’ meals.

As it was, you had served a single shift on the men’s ward, being you were placed on the children’s floor. There was almost something more debilitating about seeing the children, young and innocent faces locked behind their doors, that ate at your insides. Those small children, those poor innocents left behind by parents or ripped from their homes by people who thought they knew better….

You hated the children’s ward more than you hated the men’s ward. There was such a lack of genuine care by some nurses, who had likened themselves to being babysitters for those little girls and boys, rather than caretakers. For weeks, you had done your best to extend all the kindness you could afford to them, while inherently feeling sickened by their treatments.

It was near the end of October when you had finally convinced Dr. Rollin’s to place you back on the men’s floor. The request itself seemed to turn his head and garner his curiosity, since most nurses would rather avoid the men’s ward at all costs. For you, for your ability to try to sleep at night, you could not be around children when the staff didn’t care about them. Your heart broke for those children, for everyone who was left abandoned in the care of those who treated them like a problem.

The children, who were most vulnerable in the entire asylum, had been treated the worst. There was a deep deposited hurt in your heart and soul that made you incapable of being able to find rest late at night. Insomnia had afflicted you in the quiet hours of night in your Brooklyn apartment, where you would toss and turn. Your mind was an impossible thing to turn off, as you thought about the patients you had come to know.

And the ones you wanted to know.

It had taken weeks for you to be placed back on the men’s ward. When you had gotten placed back on the floor, you were determined to treat them like the patients were people and not animals. The first day back on the men’s ward had started with an opportunity for enrichment for the men, a chance for them to get out of their rooms and do something with their time.

Although the task was simple—a chance to draw or sketch with charcoal pencils and cheap sketchbook paper—it was enough to occupy them. You were assigned the task, with one of the other nurses, of looking over the men as they sat in a large, somewhat airy room.

There was nothing but chairs that had faced the front of the room with sunlight streaming through dirty thin glass panel windows. The nurse assisting you with the task was as uninterested as you had imagined, choosing to take her time writing a letter to her lover, rather than care for the patients.

“They’re sketching, they won’t do anything.” She had quipped with a disinterest when saddling you with handing out the charcoal pencils and sketchbooks. She had preoccupied herself with the pen she had twirled between her fingers, and the smoke in her other hand that was lit yet not used yet. “Go!”

The temptation to speak what was on your tongue, a curse you’d wished you’d had more bravado to speak, had died quickly. Regardless of you being a nurse during the latter years of the war, the lives you had tried to save when they came to the hospital you were assigned, you felt like she was scolding you like she would a child. There was nothing you could have said currently to her, not with these men watching the two of you, and any aggressive attempt would only unsettle them.

You silenced yourself and started passing out the charcoal pencils and sketchbooks, working your way toward the back of the large room. With each passing second, you had been aware of the eyes on you, the men who were watching you. There was a level of unease around the room, a certain amount of tension from the patients, who had very obviously been aware they were outnumbering the two of you.

And yet as you approached the back of the room, the last chair and patient to receive a sketchbook, you’d felt your heart stop. Like the first time you had seen him, Steve Rogers was undeniably captivating. His blonde hair was messily brushed out of his face, and his blue-green eyes had once again made you forget how to breathe. He was a national hero, and his placement here in the asylum seemed to be completely improper for someone like him.

After everything he had done, after everything he had given up to save lives, he was thrown in here? To be forgotten and thrown aside? It seemed like such an injustice for him, to have him give everything and be locked in here.

“Thank you,” his deep voice was husky and alluring, and there was a moment when his hand brushed against yours, “nurse L/N.”

Electricity like you’d never felt before had passed from his hand to yours, further enticing you in a manner that felt impossible. Your tongue felt as if it was swelling inside your mouth with the inability to utter a single word, and with a stark nod, you turned on your heel and walked away.

**************************************

Your tongue had betrayed you. Your tongue and brain had both left you, faltering in a moment when you could have spoken to him. And it was a regret that you had carried with you late into the afternoon. With the inability to communicate despite your desire to ask him, even if it wasn’t your place, you thought you had squandered your opportunity.

And yet, as the medications were being handed out in the afternoon, it seemed as if a second chance was given to you. The same nurse you had spent the enrichment time with—wherein you handed out art supplies, and she did nothing—had left the room to belong to Steve Rogers with a harsh huff. The door slammed heavily behind her and her heels clacked angrily against the aged floor, the wood grain in desperate need to be sanded down and stained to look fresh.

“He wants you,” the nurse in question had slammed the clipboard down upon the nurses’ desk, her ire focused solely on you, “he won’t allow anyone else to administer his medication.”

The paper attached to the clipboard was dusted with small ink stains from her pen that had dripped from the leaking tip. On the top of the rudimentary chart was his name in black boldened letters, STEVEN GRANT ROGERS, with a complete lack of the title he had earned. There were notes on his attitude for Dr. Rollins, and perhaps people outside the asylum interested in the great America hero, however nothing new was added for today.

“Why?” You had already started rising to your feet, your hands reaching for the clipboard and your fingers curling around the thin side.

The edge dug into the creases on your palm, and your eyes had swept across the aggressive scowl of the nurse before moving toward the small rolling cart beside her. The tools needed to draw blood were set upon the metal surface, as well as the small white pills that Dr. Rollins deemed necessary. Besides the medication and the tools needed to draw blood, was a simple book—something he must’ve requested.

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears while you pushed the rolling cart toward the door of his room, the clipboard and rudimentary chart on top of the book. You only had to knock once to announce yourself and as you pushed the cart into the room, you closed it softly behind you.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about his room and he was given nothing the other patients did not have—a basic metal bed that seemed as if it was too small for him, an uncomfortable looking mattress, cheap sheets made from thin cotton, and the usual grey uniform.

In the corner of his room was a small selection of books, and to the left of the books were previous sketches he had done. Although most were landscapes that must have come from his recollection, many that you had not known yourself, the Empire State Building was the only monument that you had recognized. Its likeness was uncanny. So much detail had been captured by a simple charcoal pencil, it felt as if you could reach out and touch it.

You had been blindly captivated by the sketch, so much so that you hadn’t been able to address him. Not about the request to have you, and you alone, administer his medication, nor could you question why he was here. Your eyes were fixated on the sketch of the infamous NYC building, and then on every one after until the shift and creak of the bed had stirred you from your focus.

“Captain Rogers—“ you had begun to speak, reaching for the chart and setting it aside in favour of grabbing the needle. Your hand hovered above the tie for his arm and the vial for blood, as you took another pause that was triggered by him speaking over you.

“Steve,” he corrected you and switched positions, coming to sit on the edge of the bed with his left sleeve rolled up past his elbow, “they stripped that title from me.”

You were rendered silent again, only observing him as he was observing you. There was silence, but it wasn’t stagnant as you expected. There was a soft, lingering kind of tension as neither of you had really moved, and you were left to process the news he had given to you. You hadn’t heard anyone address him as the captain that he once was, however you had always thought it was by his choice. You hadn’t expected that it was involuntary, or an action that he had no control of.

“Oh.” It was a single syllable that you had let slip from your lips, one that had broken the silence before you had cleared your throat and shook your head.

The curls in your hair, deemed necessary as part of the uniform and the style that continued before and post-war, had hit your cheeks. Your lips were stained with the unwavering victory red that women had clutched to during the Second World War—which, along with heels and the starch white nurses’ dress, was part of your uniform—had become pursed.

“I’m sorry.” You relayed your emotional state through two words, and then you had mentally shaken yourself to do your job. You grabbed the tie that would go around his arm and lifted it from the metal rolling table, twisting it around your fingers before you straightened it out again.

You took two small steps toward the bed and cleared your throat, raising your head, only for his iridescent eyes to capture yours again. Warmth was instinctually present deep in your heart and soul, akin to an endearing glow from a flickering candle that lit up the surrounding room. You didn’t even have to speak before he extended his arm, and you were already leaning in, drawing the tie around his arm.

“I’m sorry if this hurts,” your voice was soft and there was a hint of a tremble hanging on to the edge as you preemptively apologized for the needle you hadn’t even used yet. You tied the knot to get a good vein, and then you reached behind you for the needle and vial, balancing them in your hands before you bent down to get a good glimpse at the vein.

“You’re nervous,” Steve’s voice had once again drawn your attention away from the needle, and his hand had reached toward you to steady your own. “You won’t hurt me, Y/N.”

Another jolt of electricity passed from his hand to yours, and back again. You were well aware of the lingering staleness that seemed to be ever present in the asylum, the smell of mustiness that seemed to be caked onto every surface possible. And it seemed to be less of an irritant in the room, or maybe there was more to focus on than the stench.

“Are you afraid of needles?” You took a slow deep breath to calm your racing heart and jumpy nerves, before you finally managed to push the tip of the needle beneath his skin into his vein. As you started to draw blood from him, he had answered your question with a very subtle shake of his head; however, there was something else on his mind.

“I know you want to ask why I’m here. Most of the nurses here have asked.” His eyes searched your face as if he were committing every feature, every single thing about you, to some corner of his mind. “They tell me I’m crazy.”

“You’re not crazy.” You recoiled once you had filled the vial and pushed the cap on, standing upright and replacing it on the metal tray. “I’ve seen crazy…”

You wanted to ask why he wanted you to be the one to give him his medication. You wanted to ask why he was refusing any other nurse and yet, you hadn’t been given the chance. There was sparsely a moment for you to say anything else before the door opened with a high-pitched squeak. Steve’s green-blue eyes had drifted away from you to the presence of the person behind you, and you immediately noticed the tension in his jaw.

“Nurse L/N,” Dr. Rollin's voice had hit your ears producing a tentative shudder that had run down your spine, “nurse Hattie had mentioned you were requested.”

You could count the seconds down in your mind before you felt a hand on the small of your back as Dr. Rollins approached the bed. The feel of his fingertips against the starch white material of your nurses’ uniform provided no form of comfort or even anything akin to friendliness. The touch made you want to recoil, and the warmth from his body was almost twisted and nausea-inducing. Your heart clenched, and you understood your mind was telling you to run, to get out of this space immediately.

“You cannot turn away the other nurses who intend to help you, Mr. Rogers.” The complete lack of empathy was evident in Dr. Rollin's voice, as was the blatant choice to not address him as captain. “Nurse L/N is not always available—“

“You haven’t given me my medication yet, nurse.” Steve was blatantly ignoring the doctor, choosing not to acknowledge him at all as if Dr. Rollins was no more than a ghost.

“Medication?” You turned your head, cutting yourself free from the daze that was afflicting you. Once you were freed from the tentative hold Steve had on you, you cupped the pills in your hand and held them out to him.

“Give him the pills and leave, nurse. Mr. Rogers and I need to have a conversation.” Dr. Rollins had addressed Steve with an air of superiority as well as the attempt to hold power over him.

You placed the pills in Steve’s palm, watching him dry swallow them, and then you were sharply turned on your heel. Dr. Rollins turned you away from the bed and Steve, ushering you out of the room with a heavy hand. When the door closed behind you with more force than necessitated, you took a single look over your shoulder. You took a quick glance, and then you moved back to the nurses’ desk, sitting on the wooden chair and exhaling slowly.

Only then had you noticed the feel of something in your pocket. You slipped your hand into the pocket of your nurses’ uniform, feeling sketchbook paper. Your hand recoiled with the paper in hand, and you unfolded it slowly and carefully, your eyes taking in the image you admired so much. The Empire State Building was there laid out in charcoal pencil, perfectly captured had been slipped into your pocket without you even knowing.

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