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timidpumpkin · 1 year

Note

Can you do a stucky little reader? She wakes up sick ( flu symptoms) and they take care of her. Angst and fluff with cute nicknames. 🥺🥺❤️❤️

You had me at angst…and fluff…and cute nicknames…okay you had me at the whole thing🙈🙈💞💞heheh i hope you like it!! I set it in little light universe🫶🫶❤️💙❤️💙

(pictures are not my own)

More Than Anything (Stucky x reader)

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Warnings/tags: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Female reader, Implied forced age regression, Sick reader, Meanie bucky, Implied reader has small hands in comparison because Stucky is gigantic (fact), Angst, Fluff, Comfort. Reader baby-talks as well, Lots o' cute nicknames.

Word count: 4.2k

It hurts.

“Mornin’ Doll,” Bucky says after flipping your lights on. The illumination now burning your vision makes you pull the covers over your head as you flip over, hiding from the bright room. You hear him making his way to your bedside. The mattress beneath dips you sideways a bit as he sits beside your dormant form.

“Come on now, time to get up.” he pulls lightly at the duvet covering you. He can tell you’re gripping it with all you can. Though he could easily unveil you, he decides against it, knowing that ripping the blanket from your delicately curled-up fingers might hurt them. Instead, he leans his body over yours, one hand placed on the other side of your hip as he hovers above you. He dips his head close to where yours is concealed by the warm blanket. “Don’t make me carry you down there,” he whispers teasingly, figuring it’s likely what you’re hoping for.

Instead, you only groan in response, mumbling something about getting a little more sleep. It wasn’t an uncommon request from you, and Bucky knew how much babies needed their sleep. Usually, he would let it slide, loving how adorable you look in dreamland, but he can’t. Not this time.

It was almost noon. He peers around your room. It’s not the cleanest, but it looks pristine compared to the current state of your playroom. He had asked you yesterday to clean it, noticing the myriad of toys and their respective accessories scattered across the carpeted floor.

You, preoccupied with dressing your doll so she could ‘go on vacation,’ promised him you’d do it after dinner. Bucky apprehensively agreed, and even let you fall through on your assigned chore after you quickly fell asleep on the couch, much before your usual bedtime. Figuring you played your little heart out, he carried you upstairs and told himself to remind you in the morning.

Having already slept almost twelve hours, he knows if he lets your slumber last any longer, you’ll never sleep tonight. He sighs.

“I know you want more babygirl, but Dada already made breakfast and lunch. You need to come eat,” he waits a few moments for you to respond, but you don’t let out a sound or groan. “I'm serious, Doll, time to get up,” he states, standing up, hoping it’ll prompt you to follow. You peel your sheets back to look at him.

“Daddy…” you whine, unsure of what you're asking for. All you knew is that it hurt. Everything. It wasn’t just that the lights were too bright. It wasn't just that you were sleepy. Your whole body felt…bad. Just bad. You couldn’t exactly explain it, but you did know that moving didn’t seem like it would help.

Bucky only looks at you, unsatisfied. You try sitting up, which you find is more difficult than it should have been. Once you’re upright, you feel pressure in your head. Your cheeks and forehead feel as if there's unwanted gunk smooshed inside. It makes you want to lie back down immediately.

“m’ tired daddy,” you say groggily.

“That’s ‘cause you slept so much,” Bucky knew messing with your established sleep pattern too much would likely make you feel more cranky than it seemed you already were. So, as much as he knew you didn’t want to, he believed it would be for the best to make you get up.

As you start to get out of bed, it feels as though the air is made of thick jello with every movement you make.

“Daddyyy…ughhhh” you groan unhappily at him, and kick at your sheets frustrated that you’re being forced to move.

Bucky’s eyes narrow at your agitated action, never liking that kind of behavior from you.

“Don’t be that way, Doll. it’s too early for that,” he warns.

“Mmm,” you groan again. “noo, don’t wanna, wanna sleep!” you say crankily, flopping back down on the bed again with your arms crossed to prove your point. That point being: you. did. not. want. to. move.

Bucky rolls his eyes, and takes a deep breath, debating internally on how to approach your grouchiness. He decides, only since it’s so early—for you—that he’ll go easy on you, hoping this attitude will fade as you wake up.

“No more sleep, but,” he leans down closer to you, “if you promise to be a good girl all day, Daddy will carry you down there.” he offers as a compromise.

Truthfully, you’d still rather lay in bed, but you knew you had to do what Daddy asked. More so, you didn’t want him to be upset with you, so you nod your head in agreement.

“Okay, Daddy.”

“Okay daddy, what?” he questions.

“I-i’ll be good,” you say, having a hard time remembering what he asked. He slides his hands under you and begins to pick you up. Once you’re in his hold, you quickly let your head fall to his shoulder, wishing you could now sleep there instead.

“And you’ll eat your breakfast this morning?” he asks into your heavy head. You nod into his neck and mumble a ‘yes daddy’ assentingly.

Once he places you in your chair downstairs, Steve greets you with a bright smile, and a kiss to your forehead after setting down your food. When he does, he notices how hot your skin feels against his.

“You feel warm angel, you feel okay, babygirl?” he asks, gently checking the temperature of your cheeks with the back of his hand.

“Oh, she just got up, she’s probably still warm from sleep,” Bucky answers before you get the chance to speak. “Somebody really didn’t want to get up this morning,” he pokes.

“Ohh,” Steve coos, “you still sleepy, babygirl?” he asks. You shake your head weakly, eyes drifting closed. You think about telling him how bad you feel, but you don’t really have the energy to try to explain it.

Instead, you decide to focus on eating, hoping the sooner you finish, the quicker you can return to resting. However, the very first swallow of your otherwise pleasant meal scratches at your throat. You still try to get some down, thinking the pain will go away if you keep trying. When it becomes evident that won't be the case, you poke at your plate and begin to speak up.

“Daddy, m’done,” you push your plate away, “my thro-”

“Uh-uh, a few more bites,” Bucky pushes the plate back in front of you, knowing you’ll never feel more awake with an empty stomach. “And after you finish, you can go clean your playroom,” You look at him puzzled.

“But-”

“No buts. I already asked you to do it yesterday,” he explains, not looking up from whatever he happened to be reading at the table with you. Your face twists in confusion for a few moments before you remember how tired you felt last night. Truthfully, the fatigue was all your body could focus on, making you completely forget about the room.

“But daddy-”

“What did I just say?” he looks up at you.

“I’m tired!” you snap at him, voice raised high and whiney as you bemoan at him. You cross your arms and huff grumpily back into the chair.

“I don’t care if you’re tired. Do what Daddy says, or you can say goodbye to your playroom for the next week” he threatens. Not wanting to get out of bed was one thing, but directly disobeying him with that attitude was another.

Still, you only groan angrily in response, not feeling like you could do anything right now.

“Ugh!” you flop your head down on the table dramatically, hiding between your arms. Bucky lets your stew there for a moment before speaking up.

“Are you gonna finish eating or not?” He asks eventually, eerily calm. You remain silent, unsure of what to say. “Fine, you can go clean your room now,” You look up to him at that, suddenly confused and disoriented. Surely your daddy should know how bad you feel.

“But Daddy! I don't wanna now! I don't feel g-”

“Did I ask if you wanted to? I don’t care if you don't feel like it. Now. Or no playroom for a month.” your jaw drops, your muddled brain beyond baffled on why he’s being so harsh. Still, you know he means it. It wasn’t outside his usual punishment by any means. You almost think you should consider yourself lucky he hasn’t bent you over his knee already with how you’re fighting him.

Feeling defeated, you drag your body out of your chair. Before you can go, he grabs your arm with a warning.

“and quit with the attitude.”

“Yes, Daddy” you squeak lamentably, noticing how your throat hurts as you speak.

You drag your feet upstairs, physically resisting your legs from stomping as you go. Anger and confusion mix together in you as you think about what he said. You didn’t want to be grounded from your playroom. So many of your favorite things were in there. And, again, more importantly, you didn't want to make daddy upset with you. You never liked it when he was. You always tried so hard to be a good girl for them. But right now, it was so hard. In actuality, what you wanted more than anything was for him to cuddle with you. You felt Daddy and Dada could always make you feel better. No matter what, you were convinced your Daddies loving embrace could cure you from any ailment.

Maybe, you think, if you just cleaned your room like a good girl, you could ask to cuddle with him after.

You try your hardest to ignore the pain that ignites at every move you make, but truthfully, you're already abnormally out of breath just from your quick walk up the stairs. The room feels uncomfortably chilly against your skin.

After you get a small portion of the floor cleared, you decide to take a little break. You practically collapse beneath yourself, curling underneath the cozy play tent filled with askew fluffy pillows and dismayed blankets. You shut your eyes and tell yourself you’ll only rest for a few minutes…

“Angel?” Steve's voice echoes back at him from the loft balcony where you should easily be able to pick up his voice. He can’t hear you moving around. “Are you sure she’s in there?” he asks Bucky.

“She better. It’s where I told her to be.” he retorts disdainfully, hoping you're not again disobeying him by being somewhere else.

Steve stills himself, and listens closely, he can tell you’re there, but your breathing doesn’t sound normal.

Concerned, he makes his way upstairs. Bucky follows, recognizing Steve’s ‘something’s wrong’ face.

Steve panics for a brief moment when he enters the empty but disarrayed room. Then he spots you. Your delicate form hidden amongst haphazardly arranged fabrics. He approaches you slowly, not wanting to startle you.

He kneels down, overshadowing you as he gently caresses your cheek to wake you.

“Babygirl?” he calls softly. Puffs of hot air escape your mouth. Labored breathing is all he can hear. All they can both hear.

“Babygirl,” he calls again, shaking you slightly. To his relief, your eyes slowly open. They look sunken, tired, and devoid of their usual playful sparkle.

“Dada…?” you question quietly. “m’cold” your murmur softly, eyes begging to be closed again.

You’re not cold though. Not to Steve. You feel a million degrees too hot under his touch.

“Babygirl…” he says for the third time, this time preparing to move you. “Dada’s gonna pick you up okay?” he explains, remaining calm so as to not worry you. “We're gonna go downstairs,” you feel limp in his arms, no different than if you were deep in sleep. But you are certainly awake, even if barely. He mumbles something to Bucky you don't make out, but his tone alone tells you he’s not happy.

Once you’re downstairs, he sets you on the kitchen counter. You don’t let go of him though, your body weight is leaned almost fully onto his.

“Can you sit up for me, babygirl?” he asks encouragingly, but gently. “Daddy and I are gonna check you out okay?” you groan a bit, still just feeling tired.

“Here,” Bucky speaks up softly, snaking his arms around you, and taking Steve’s place in front of you. As you’re shifted from one body’s hold to another, it wakens you a bit. You almost go back to leaning fully onto his chest when you realize who’s holding you.

“Daddy?” you shift back a little to look up at him. One hand of his is resting at your hip, the other helping support the rest of your body.

“Hey, babydoll…” he says softly, voice drifting, and stomach sinking as he sees how sick you look.

He almost wishes he could somehow shut his hearing out. Your heartbeat is quicker than usual. He knew it better than his own. How it sounded while you slept, when you’d play, how it picks up when you laugh, giggling for breath and telling him ‘daddy, stop it tickles’ with the brightest grin lighting up your face. Now…now he can’t stand it. It’s thumping too fast. Faster than it should be for when his little girl hasn’t moved an inch herself.

Why didn’t he notice it before? He thinks back to how heavily you held onto him when he carried you this morning. How quickly he was to interrupt you. He realizes you probably tried to tell him. And he didn’t listen. Even worse, he made you clean. Guilt seeps deep into his guts as he remembers how funny your voice sounded today.

“Daddy,” you break him from his thoughts, he sees tears beginning to form in your doleful eyes. “Daddy m’sorry,” you breathe in sharply, beginning to cry “m’sorry didn't f-finish-i just-i gots so tireds daddy I’m-I'm sorry,” you sob pathetically, knowing you’ve disappointed him.

Bucky’s face falls.

All you had to do was one simple thing, and you couldn't even do that right. You weren’t being a good girl by disobeying him like that. Even if you felt bad, you feel you should have tried harder.

“Doll, no-” you cry sorries to him more, your own hands reaching to cover your shameful face. He catches them before you do, gently taking them into his and guiding them around his neck for you so you can be more level with his gaze. “Babydoll, look at daddy,” He pulls you, hands drawing you closer so he’s flush with you in between your legs. Needing to feel your skin, his right hand tenderly guides your face to look at him. “I’m not upset with you. Daddy’s not upset with you,” he reassures, silently pleading for you not to cry.

“But-but-I didn’t cleans-I-I just-I-I not good girl,” you sob miserably at the admission, never wanting to be bad for him.

“My little girl, my sweet girl, no, please no” he assures, hating how skewed shut your eyes are. “That’s not true, Doll, it’s just not. Daddy…” he carefully wipes at the wet tears on your cheek, “Daddy should have known.” he admits shamefully. You finally blink your eyes open at him, a timidly unsure expression written on your face. “I should have known. You...you tried to tell daddy huh?” he takes one of your hands and gives it soft kisses.

“N-n’your not mad at me?” you sniffle as your cries begin to slow down.

“No, Doll, never.” he couldn’t be, never for something like this. His mouth opens again, he wants to tell you how sorry he is. He’s the one who should be, but he only finds his own tongue twisted, unsure of how to fully express his remorse. Before he has time to puzzle the words together, Steve interrupts, thermometer in hand.

“Open wide, babygirl,” you do as he says. “tongue up,” he mimics the motion for you. The cold metal feels uncomfortable in your mouth. They must know this as Bucky squeezes your hand soothingly, and Steve tells you ‘just a little longer’ with a sympathetic gaze as he holds your jaw with the hand that’s not keeping the thermometer in place.

When it beeps, Steve removes it and frowns when he reads the displayed numbers.

“Can you tell us what hurts, princess?” Steve asks. You point your hand towards your neck. “Your throat?” he confirms, and you nod your head. “What else babygirl?” you then squeeze your eyes together, remembering how squished your brain feels.

“Head,” you mumble quietly, before crossing and rubbing your arms together in discomfort. “Everything.”

“Your body hurts? Feels sore?” He asks. You nod your head weakly at him, closing your eyes and wishing you could be laying down right now. Even just sitting somewhat upright felt hard at the moment.

“Okay babygirl, why don’t you let Daddy take you to the bedroom,” Steve suggests. “I’ll be there in just a minute.” he smiles at you comfortingly, before placing a kiss on your forehead with his hand cradling the back of your head.

“m’I sick?” you ask Bucky as he carries you to their room.

“Yeah, but it’s okay, Dada and I will help you feel better,” he carefully sets you on their large bed.

It's soft. Yours is soft too, but Daddies always felt so much softer for some reason. Maybe it’s because you got to sleep next to your favorite people. He arranges the pillows and blankets around you to make you more comfortable, then slides next to you. You rest your head on his chest, almost instantly falling asleep again.

Some time passes, particularly how much time is beyond you. All you knew in this moment, is how comfy Daddy felt.

After some time, Steve’s voice brings you back to reality. He instructs you to sit more upright so he can give you medicine.

The odd color liquid he brings toward you makes you cringe. You can tell just from looks how bitter and unpleasant it will taste. You recoil into bucky, small hands gripping at the buttons of his shirt as you whine.

“Daddyyy…” you tug on Bucky's shirt more, trying to force your head into his flannel to hide from Steve and his icky medicine, practically begging Bucky to not make Steve give it to you.

“Doll,” Bucky chuckles a bit at your attempt to hide inside his outer shirt. He still holds you close, hands supporting you on your bottom as you have now completely crawled on top of him.

“Angel…you know I can still see you…right?” Steve teases.

“No you can’ts…m’not here” you proclaim, muffled into Bucky’s chest.

“The sooner you take it, the sooner it will be over, come on princess.” Steve encourages. You’re still not convinced and instead mumble out one word: ‘pill.’

For a second, Steve isn’t sure if he understood you correctly before his lips tighten with a displeased look on his face.

You’ve had this conversation before. He thought surely by now you understood it, but he figured since you’re sick, it might be hard for your little head to remember.

“Sweet girl, babies can’t take pills, you know that.” Steve explains patiently. You did know that. It was early on when Steve refused to let you take any medication you needed through a pill. It didn't matter what you needed, he was always able to find a way to get a liquid version of it from Uncle Bruce. Or, as you like to think, a much yuckier version of it.

Still, you groan in disagreement, not wanting to taste something that bad, let alone when your throat hurt as much as it did.

“Doll,” Bucky speaks up. “I know you don’t want to, but it’ll make you feel so much better.”

You shake your head against his chest, disagreeing with both of your daddies now.

“it’s yucky dough daddy,” you whine.

“I know it’s yucky, babydoll,” Bucky pats at your back comfortingly while he thinks. He knows how hard this is for you, especially when you feel so bad. “Hey,” he peels you back from him a bit, unburying you from his shirt as he has an idea. “Look,” he instructs, “Here,” he takes the small cap of medicine from Steve’s hands and–to your horror–throws it back in his mouth. You look at him in horror as the icky liquid disappears from the cap into Bucky's mouth. You stare at him wildly.

Daddy’s crazy, you think.

“There. See? Daddy took it. It’s not so bad.” Bucky says nonchalantly in an attempt to convenience you. He hands the empty cap back to Steve so he can refill it. Steve shares your look of bewilderment, before you can't help but break out a smile at his action.

“Daddy,” you giggle at him.

“What?” He fakes surprise. “Daddy took it, so you can too.” he assures happily, taking the now filled-again cap from Steve. Still, you recoil from it a bit.

“Yeah…” you look between him and the medicine suspiciously. “but daddy also drinks other yucky stuffs,” you defend, referring to the strong-smelling caramel-colored stuff he likes to drink sometimes. Daddy never lets you have that.

Bucky chuckles a bit when he realizes what you meant.

“Okay, true…and little baby definitely can’t have that stuff…” he says pointedly. “but this,” he gestures the cap towards you. “you have to take.” You look between him and Steve warily.

“Please angel, I know you can do it. Do it for Daddy and Dada princess,” Steve encourages. You agree this time, mentally pepping yourself up and telling yourself if daddy could do it, so could you.

You scrunch your eyes closed as Bucky brings it closer to your lips. You feel Steve’s hands reach down to hold your face. One hand holding your jaw up firmly, with the other around the back of your head. This way, you aren't able to move should you change your mind. Steve knew you’d be a good girl and take it, but he always had to be sure just in case–not unlike what has happened before–you decide to spit it out.

When it hits your tongue, it’s just as yucky as you had imagined. Maybe even worse. Instinctively, your face contorts in displeasure as you squirm around from the gross sensation.

Steve and Bucky hold you firmly in place the whole time and instruct you to swallow.

Once you do, Steve asks you to open your mouth for him, just to make sure you really swallowed it all.

“Good girl, my brave little girl. I knew you could do it.” Steve praises you. “Dada’s so proud of you.” he beams at you, making you smile.

“Daddy proud too?” you ask shyly to Bucky.

“Super proud doll. The proudest of them all.” he winks at you, making you giggle a little bit, but it tickles your throat, causing you to start having a coughing fit.

Bucky brings a sippy on their nightstand to your lips and lets you drink some cold water. It helps calm your throat.

Steve asks if there’s anything else you want right now. You ask for some juice in your favorite sippy, and he lets you know he’ll bring it after he’s done making some soup for you.

Bucky gets out of the bed, making you confused. You promptly grab at his hands.

“Where going?” you look up to him, eyes big and sad.

“I was just gonna go help Dada, why don’t you get some rest, Doll?” He says, knowing it’s what you need most right now. To his surprise though, you don’t let go.

“Nooo,” you say, tugging feebly at his hands. “Stay…wanna…can…cuddle daddy?” you ask bashfully, suddenly feeling shy.

Bucky’s eyes turn soft. Soft. Just like his little girl. Soft. Like how your voice always sounded. Soft. Something, an emotion, a feeling, a sensation, that only you made him experience.

Even after he made you clean your playroom, even after he snapped at you and didn’t listen, you still asked in your softest voice, doleful eyes, and small grabby hands if he would cuddle with you. Sometimes–he’s not sure what he did to deserve you.

“Of course, princess,” he climbs back into the bed with you and you grin happily as you curl yourself around him just like before. He suggests again that you to get some rest, but that too comes with protest.

“Wanna watch ‘toons wif Daddy…can we’s?” you ask. Bucky smiles to himself and kisses your head. Even though he knows you’ll likely fall fast asleep no more than five minutes into it, there’s nothing more he’d like more than watch shows with his little girl

He turns on your favorite show and makes sure you’re perfectly comfortable, tucked around him and under blankets.

“Doll?” he whispers softly after a few minutes. To his surprise, you’re still awake. You mumble a questioning ‘hmm?’ he takes a few seconds to respond, trying to gather the words correctly for you. He breathes in.

“I’m sorry Daddy didn’t listen earlier,” he admits, lips ghosting the top of your head, before placing a kiss there. “I should have listened.”

“It’s okies Daddy,” you hum sleepily into his chest. It wasn’t okay. He knew that. But you—you and your never-ending soft and kind heart—forgave him. And that’s all that mattered to him. He truly was more than lucky to have a little girl like you.

“I love you Daddy,” you squeeze him softly, voice quiet. And even though he can’t see you, he knows you're smiling when you say it.

“I love you, Doll.” more than anything.

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stuckysbaby1938 · 10 months

Text

Thunderstorms

Summary: thunderstorms in the middle of the night are scary.

Warnings: fluff, reader cries, very very brief mention of punishment, reader being scared, bucky being the most comforting daddy ever

Word count: 1232

Notes: Bucky=daddy Steve=dada

written on my phone

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

"Why can't I sleep with you and daddy?" You stare up at Steve as he tucks you in. "Because daddy and I don't want to wake you up early when we get up." Steve kissed your forehead. "Do you want a story?" You nodded. "Wan daddy to read." You point to where Steve isn't sitting. "I'll go get him then." Steve chucked before getting up to go find Bucky. Bucky had just gotten out of the shower when she found him. "The princess wants you to read her a story before she goes to bed." Bucky smiled as he grabs his boxers. "Tell her I'll be there in a minute." Steve nodded and went back to you.

When he got to your room, you weren't in bed. Steve sighed and went to your usual hiding spot in your closet to find it empty. "Sweetheart, it's bedtime. Not play time." Steve heard a rustle from your play tent and smirked. "I guess my baby left and now I have no one to cuddle." You instantly got out and ran to Steve. "No! No! I right here!" You didn't want your dada cuddling anybody else but you or daddy. Steve picked you up and took you back to your bed. "Dada?" You spoke quietly. "Yes, angel?" Steve looked down at you. "Will you lay with me." Steve smiled and laid beside you, pulling you close. "Cuddling without me?" Bucky came in with a bottle and sat beside you on the bed.

You quickly curled into his arms so he could feed you the bottle. "There ya go, sweet girl. Just needed daddy." You look up into his eyes to find him staring down at you. "You still want that story, pretty baby?" You nodded as best as you could with the bottle in your mouth. "Alright, what are we doing tonight?" He sat the empty bottle on your nightstand. "Wuv you to moon n back!" Bucky chuckled and grabbed the book while Steve snuggled into your other side.

He sat your between the two of them with your stuffed dinosaur, Franklin, as Bucky started to read. "I love our time together as we start each happy day. I love our bath time silliness, the way we splash and play," You felt your eyes grow heavy as you cuddle into Bucky's side. Steve noticed you started to suck the tip of your thumb so he reached over and grabbed your paci, slipping it between your lips. "We'll climb the highest mountaintops, hold tight and you won't fall." You didn't hear much after that.

"I love you to the moon and stars, my precious little one." Bucky smiled down at you. He gently pulled the duvet over you before kissing your forehead. "Good night, doll. I love you." Bucky stepped back so Steve could say good night as well. "Good night, babygirl. I love you. Sleep tight." Steve kissed your cheek. They turned on your nightlight and gently closed your door. They stayed up for a little while, mostly cleaning up before they went to bed themselves. "Night, punk." "Night, jerk." They shared a small kiss before falling asleep.

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

You jolted awake after hearing a loud bang come from outside. You ran over to your window to see what it was. You couldn't see much from how hard it was raining but you did see a bright flash before hearing another bang.

You yelp and run back to your bed and hide under the covers. You have always hated thunderstorms. They are too loud. You peek out to look at the clock.

2:56 AM in big red letters

The red means you can't leave your room because it's to early. You clutch Franklin to your chest and try to calm down. You glance at the clock again, still seeing the red numbers. Should you risk punishment to go get your daddies? A loud clap of thunder made you sum up your decision. You got out of bed, grabbed Franklin and your paci, and carefully opened your door. The hallway was dark, which only scared you more. You hurry to your daddies bedroom, quietly twisting the door knob. You saw them both fast asleep. You tiptoe to the edge of their bed, only to be stopped by Bucky's voice. "What are you doing up, princess?"

"Got scared daddy." You walk around to his side of the bed. "C'mon, back to bed." He picks you up and starts walking you back to your room. He lays you down in your bed and kissed your forehead. "Get some sleep, sweets." He whispers. "But daddy I-" He shushes you. "Go back to sleep, honey. It's to early." He tucks you in and leaves. You close your eyes and try to sleep but the thunder just gets louder. You start to cry. You get up again and go to get Bucky. "Honey, I told you to go back to bed."

"But daddy-" he cuts you off again. "No, baby, it's to early. Go back to bed, now." You were about to argue more when the thunder started again, making you cry more. Bucky stood up and walked over to you. He gently picked you up and walked out of his room. "Shhh, it's okay. It's just thunder, princess. It's okay." He started walk you around the hall, trying to let Steve sleep. "How about a bottle?" You nodded.

He walked downstairs and started to fix your bottle. The thunder sounded closer this time, making you start to shake. "You're okay, honey. Daddy's right here." Bucky started to rock you while your milk was heating up. "'S scary, daddy." You whimper. "I know it is, doll, but its just thunder. It can't hurt you." Bucky placed the lid on your bottle and went to sit on the couch. "Like Thor?" Bucky nodded. "Exactly like Thor. He's just making sure you know he's watch over you from Asgard." You gasped.

You had never thought of that before. Thor was one of your favorite of your daddies' friends. He was the most fun. One time he took you to the water park and you got to skip all the lines!

"'S just Thor?" Bucky nodded while slipping the tip of the bottle between your lips. "It's just Thor. There's nothing to be scared of." Your eyes started to feel heavy again. The sounds of thunder now somewhat comforting. The rain against the roof singing a pleasant lullaby, lulling you into a peaceful sleep. Bucky took the bottle away and replaced it with a paci that they kept on the side table, just in case. He stood up and carried you upstairs. He was going to put you in your bed, but you looked so comfortable against his chest that he just took you back to his room. He laid you in the center of the bed and got in beside you.

He got settle by your side and reached over to hold onto Steve's hand. "Everything okay?" Steve whispered. Bucky looked at the two of you with a bright smile. "Everything is perfect." Steve nodded and went back to sleep.

"Perfect."

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky x reader #stucky x little!reader #sfw agere #mcu fic #thor odinson #little reader #fluff

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buckys-little-belle · 1 year

Text

Mafia Au (Part Three)

Mr.R

Mafia!Stucky x Little!Reader (They/Them pronouns used)

Warnings - Sad reader, crying, eating of goldfish, mentions of 'stalking', just the boys being fluffy

Notes - IDK if I like this one, it's gone through a few re-writes, but I'm putting off other writting and my ADHD took that as a cue to get back on this instead, so I hope you enjoy!

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW

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“Boss!” A loud voice boomed, Steve and Bucky both waking up with a start, their necks strained. “Boss!” The voice called again, though this time closer. “Boss!”

“Wha’s going on?” Y/n mumbled, sitting up slightly.

“I don’t know yet, Little Dove.” Bucky turned to them, Steve standing up to address whoever woke them.

“Boss!”

“Peter! Do not repeat yourself.” Steve said sternly as he opened the bedroom’s door, a weary Peter on the other side. “Have you ever heard of a phone call?”

“I have.” He said timidly. “Which is why I called you twenty three times before barging in.” His words got more confident as he continued.

“Right.” Steve sighed, his phone in his room, Bucky’s too. “Okay. Okay, what’s going on then?” Steve asked, his hands whipping down his face, trying to get rid of his tired expression.

“It’s about, about, you know.” Peter tried to keep the conversation light in front of Y/n.

“No Pete, we don’t know.” Bucky chimed in, turning the corner, Y/n in hand.

“It’s about R U M L O W.” He spelled the name out.

“Oh! R U M L O W that’s how you spell our last name woop woop!” Y/n sang a little jingle and did a little shimmy, Bucky smiling at them, as Steve looked to Pete with anger in his eyes.

“Very good little dove.” Bucky cooed, swinging their hand a little.

“Why don’t we take this to an office?” Steve asked Peter, his arm gesturing for them to leave the room, Y/n frowning as she saw the two begin to leave.

“Wai’ Steve!” Y/n called out unexpectedly. “Don’ wan’ you t’leave me!” They broke free of Bucky’s grasp, rushing to Steve instead.

“We have to go talk business, My Dove.” He softly smiled, bending down slightly to give them a forehead kiss.

“Righ’.” They frowned and let go of him, walking back to bed without another word.

Bucky and Steve both watched confused, Y/n’s shoulders curled in slightly, yet no crying or protesting in sight. “We’ll meet you in my office, Pete.” Bucky cut in. “Close the door Steve.” He said as the boy walked away, the two men realized that something was definitely wrong. “Dove?” Bucky questioned, him and steve both standing in the archway, Y/n curled up in bed, a stuffie in hand.

“Is th’ business over?” They asked hopefully, perking up slightly.

“Not yet.”

“‘kay, I promise I’ll wait really good.” Y/n nodded their head, curling up even tighter.

“You don’t have to stay in bed, Dove.” Bucky shook his head, his heart breaking at the sight in front of him, something that seemed to happen too often.

“Yes I do.” They said, confusion lacing their words. “‘Babies stay in bed while the big boys talk’” They recited in a monotone voice.

“Buck, I can’t.” Steve whispered, unable to stay calm, Bucky nodding his head knowingly, taking control of the situation instead of it being a joint effort.

“I didn’t think you would want to sit in a business meeting, Dovey.” Bucky admitted. “We don’t have any toys in our offices yet.”

“I don’ wan’ toys, jus’ wan’ yous.” Y/n teared up. “‘m jus’ scared.” A sob broke through. “I don’ know the house, or anyone here, an’ I jus’ ‘m really scared, and I wan’ go home.”

Steve couldn’t help himself, he climbed into Y/n’s bed and scooped them up sitting them in his lap, their head in his neck as tears fell down their cheeks, little hiccups could be heard. “You can’t go home, Little Dove, It’s not safe.” Steve said, his words soft and comforting. “Why don’t you sit with us in our meeting? And then after breakfast we can go to that little toy store you used to pass.” He offered, knowing that maybe adding some more of their past life into their day to day could help the sudden transition.

“Really?” They pulled back, whipping their tears with their hands, hope splashed across their face.

“Pinky promise.” Steve smiled, the two sealing the deal. “But let’s find you a sweater, it’s cold upstairs.” He stood up, Y/n in his arms.

“‘Buck, I can’t’” Bucky teased under his breath as the two walked past him.

The sight was yet again one that the Mafia bosses usually wouldn’t have been found in before today, Y/n sat on Steve’s lap, green sippy cup in hand, Bucky next to them holding a bag of goldfish, handing a few to Y/n here and there, and sneaking a few for himself. “Hi Peter!” Y/n whispered, waving to the familiar face.

“Hi.” He whispered back, already loving the addition to the group.

“Pete.” Steve’s voice was loud, everyone in the room listening intently the moment he spoke. “What’s going on?”

“Right, right.” Pete was fidgeting slightly, hating being the one to break the news. “Well, Mr.R was seen on the property’s cameras last night.”

“What?” Bucky sat up straight, Y/n looking to him, worry in their eyes at his sudden moves, though the conversation was going straight over their head.

“He was seen taking pictures of both the front, and back of the house.” Sam finally cut in, handing a few photos to Bucky, who showed them to Steve, the man’s hand covering Y/n’s eyes as he looked them over, Y/n’s giggle at least lightning the mood. “We’ve upped the security, both inside, and outside the house, plus there are extra men posted in our territory, we made sure to call anyone we could to keep.” He cleared his throat. “To keep the bird safe.” His words hiding the true meaning. ‘To keep your new found little, who was and is in need of a safe place to live, unharmed from their brother.’

“Thank you, Sam.” Steve nodded, knowing he was right to appoint Sam as head of security, his skills clearly proven to be efficient and helpful, even though they are the result of a hiccup.

“I suggest you three go up to the lake house, no one knows where it is, you can let the bird settle in without a bunch of our men watching their every move.” Sam added, his words quiet knowing that the suggestion was the opposite of what Steve and Bucky wanted. Dove was supposed to be able to grow comfortable with them in their forever home, with the newly made bedroom, surrounded by every day life, and yet a bump in the road made all of those things almost impossible.

“Thanks Sam.” Bucky said clearly agitated.

“Anything else, Pete?” Steve asked, hoping to change the subject to something more hopeful, and to stop the insanely petty staring contest both Bucky and Sam were participating in.

“Nope, nothing else.” Peter smiled, though he hoped to be allowed to go soon, the conversation stressful and boring.

“Everyone’s dismissed.” Bucky said in return, a handful of goldfish outstretched to Y/n, them picking a few goldfish up, waving as everyone left the room. “How are you feeling, Little Dove?”

“‘m fine.” They answered, looking back and forth at the two men. “We go to the toys now?”

Steve sighed, looking to Bucky before speaking. “We’ve got to eat breakfast now.” He convinced himself it wasn’t a lie, he was just withholding the truth a little.

“We did!” Y/n giggled, holding their hand up to Steve, a few goldfish left.

“Crackers aren’t breakfast!” Bucky said in a dramatically silly tone, Y/n placing their hand on his head as they nodded.

“Yes, i’s breakfast!”

“We’re going to have some waffles, Dove.” Steve interrupted, a smile plastered on his face at the image, two people he loved being silly with one another, something he would get to see for the rest of his life.

“Wha’s a waffle?” They asked, puppy eyes out, mouth open in excitement.

“It’s like a pancake with little walls for your syrup.” Bucky explained.

“What’s a pancake then?”

“Dove.” Steve said in a more authoritative tone, wishing the silliness away.

“What?” They asked. “I don’, why’s you mad?” They asked, hands in their lap fumbling with their fingers.

“Dove, look at me.” Bucky asked. “Have you ever had a pancake?” He spoke with a genuine tone, Y/n shaking their head ‘no’ in response. “Okay, that’s okay.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes, his chest suddenly heavy, realizing that maybe his Dove really did think crackers were for breakfast. “I think you’ll really like them.” Bucky picked Y/n up from Steve’s arms.

“I’ll be down in a second, I have some things I need to do.” Steve was clearly seething, about to do something regarding someone all three of them knew, Y/n all too well.

“Don’t do anything rash, Steve, just take a few breaths.” Bucky tried to sooth him, rubbing circles on Y/n’s back to keep them calm too.

“I should have been rash months ago, Buck, I can’t just sit here and pretend like this guy hasn’t ruined people's lives.” Steve was on his phone, no doubt calling in backup for whatever plan he had coming.

“Does Steve’s rash hurt bad?” Y/n whispered to Bucky, him smiling at their words, reveling in the softness they exuded, and the pure kindness that radiated off of them.

“It does, Dovey, but he’s going to fix it.” He walked out of the office, Y/n snuggling closer.

“Good.” They whispered.

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haleyhunwritess · 1 year

Note

🍒drabble for the celebration: reader and bucky having movie night with nat or steve and bucky is just teasing her the whole time

🍒 drabble for bratty!reader with mean!bucky + steve

a/n: y'all really love your smut😭 i wanted to combine the two asks that i got for the celebration but here is another needy!reader with mean!bucky <3 thank you again and enjoy, you filthy animals😭😭

𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐲’𝐬 𝟏𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Sit still.” Bucky whispered in a hushed yet stern tone. His hand continued tracing your inner thighs gently, as you were practically squirming on his lap.

“Sorry, ‘m trying but it’s hard.” You whimpered, trying your best to sit as still as possible on his lap. You knew you only had yourself to blame for the position you were in currently.

“I don’t care. Don't move.” He huffed, as his hand travelled further up. His other hand found its way under your shirt, lightly cupping you before moving it back down to spread your legs further.

“B-but it h-hurts…” You tried to move his hand between you legs but one you took a look at his stern face, you immediately stopped, "Sorry, daddy...just want you to help me, need daddy to help me...can't take it any longer."

“You should've thought of that before trying to throw yourself at my best friend like a needy slut. Did you think I wouldn't notice?" His hand finally moved up between your legs, but your excitement quickly diminished when his hand landed a hard slap between your legs. He quickly masked it with a cough, not wanting to wake up Steve who was passed out on the other end of the couch.

The evening started off with an innocent dinner, which then turned into movie night once Steve mentioned he'd never seen How to lose a guy in 10 days. Steve reluctantly stayed, still debating whether he it was a good idea. You spent the entire night flirting with him, finding every excuse to touch him and tease him. When you were bending over to put the brownies in the oven, he couldn't help but stare at how short your skirt was, and how it rode up when you were bent over. Bucky knew what you were doing as he watched you place the dessert in the oven, taking way longer than you needed to. He knew you were doing this to piss him off. He knew all you wanted was attention. He almost chuckled as he noticed Steve staring at you shamelessly.

As amusing as this was for him, he didn't want Steve to be staring at what belongs to him for too long. He cleared his throat to get Steve's attention, giving him a silent warning. Steve quickly looked away, knowing that Bucky was now glaring at him. He lightly licked his lips as he tried not to think about how good you would look bent over the table like that.

When the movie started, he pulled you onto his lap, leaving a trail of soft kisses all over your neck. Steve chuckled awkwardly, and tried to focus on the movie instead. A few minutes into the movie, and Bucky was already toying with you. Torturing you under the blanket, while you tried your best to keep your mouth shut and sit still. You quietly begged him to take you upstairs after he'd stopped touching you when you were so close the second time. Each time he just shook his head and started all over again.

And that's how you ended up here, on Bucky's lap. The movie ended twenty minutes ago, and Steve had fallen asleep right before the ending.

"Did you really think you could get away with being such a slut?" He snapped, a little too loud, making you worry whether Steve had heard him, "Do you think I like to share?"

You quickly shook your head, and looked over at Steve. It would be beyond humiliating if he could hear you two right now, "P-please I'll behave...Stevie is right there, he might hear us. Let's go upstairs, daddy, please"

"Oh but I thought that's what you wanted, sweetheart?" He mocked, starting to rub you faster, "You getting shy on me now, baby? You were perfectly happy bending over for him earlier." He landed another slap between your legs, making you whimper loudly, enough to wake Steve up.

"This. Belongs. To. Me." He smacked you after each word, and all you could do was moan in response. He chuckled at your reaction and finally turned you around to face him, "Have you learnt your lesson yet, little one? Are you ready to stop being a dumb needy baby?"

You quickly nodded, "Yes, please! I'll be your good girl again, I promise!"

"Yeah? You're gonna be my good girl now?" He tilted his head, waiting for your response.

Eagerly nodding, you said, "I will! I'll be good, I promise."

"Good. Then do as you're fucking told, and sit still." He hissed, turning you back around to keep toying with you, making you whine loudly, "Shhhh, pretty girl, I know you love being a little slut but you wouldn't wanna wake Stevie up would you now?" He smirked, looking over at Steve, knowing damn well he's been awake this whole time. But you didn't know that. And Steve didn't know Bucky knew he was awake. Bucky just used this as an opportunity to give you both a warning. After all, Bucky doesn't like to share.

#bucky x reader #buckysteve #steve x reader #bucky x little!reader #steve x little!reader #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy!bucky x reader #stucky x little!reader #bucky barnes smut #🍒 drabble #1k celebration #haley 1k celebration

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marvelfanfics1 · 11 months

Note

Stucky - So baby what do you do when a stranger gives you chocolate?

Baby - Oh chocolate! I say - Yes thank you I loves Chocolate and take it dada!

Stucky - 🥲no doll, never take anything from strangers 🥲

Let's try again, what do you do when a stranger says I have Ice Cream for you?

Baby - I ask what flavour he gots! Because I do not wike banana flavour!

Stucky - No doll 🥲 you do not talk to strangers

*Stucky give up*

Tony - That girl of yours will end up getting Kidnapped and I'm gonna save her, don't you old men worry 😉

Hehehe, I would definitely take fings fom strangers! I wove candy an ice cweam! I jus wan daddy stucky so baddd! An uncle Tony! He would spoil me for sure!

- Makayla 💜

#stucky x little!reader #stucky x toddler reader #stucky x child!reader #daddy stucky #stucky #little!reader #little reader #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy!bucky #daddy!steve x little!reader #daddy!steve

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bellaramseysgf · 2 years

Text

Grumpy Man (Stucky)

Warning(s); ddlg relationship,little reader!,angry steve,some yelling,crying.

Paring(s); Stucky (Steve Rogers & James Barnes) X Little! Reader.

Summary; Steve had a rough day at work and you get the bad end of it.

A/n; I’m still not 100% who all I’ll write for so if you guys have any ideas Imk :D

••••••••••••

You smiled stepping down the stairs when you heard the car pull up in the driveway. Daddies were home! You waited at the front door, not being allowed to open it yourself. You were so excited, you had colored them pictures and with the help of nat you even got to bake them cookies!

“Alright, honey” nat smiled as she pulled open the door. Bucky was the first one you saw “daddy!” You smiled and his face instantly soften “ah, there’s my little bunny” he said scooping you up. Bucky inhaled your scent needing it after the day he’s had, he pulled you to the left side of him his metal arm holding you up while Steve bid farewell to nat.

“Hi! Dada!” You smiled reaching for him but he didn’t take you like he normally does. “It’s been a rough day, bunny don’t take it personal” Bucky cooed softly seeing the frown forming. Steve walked into the living room Bucky followed with you in his arms. “Why is there such a mess?” Steve asked noticing the pans and flour on the counter of the connecting kitchen. “I made cookies!” You said as Bucky sat you back your feet. “Why?” Steve huffed.

“I wanted to help dada and daddy! Make it better!” You smiled but Steve didn’t “but you left a mess, you know better” he scolded. You frowned “I’m sorry….I jus…we forgot” you said. “You can’t forget things like this! Do you wanna dirty up our house?” You shook your head “no dada I was just-” “did I ask you to talk back!” He raised his voice and you felt tears swelling in your eyes. “But…I…dada…cookie” you were stuttering at this point but Steve didn’t pick up on it.

“You’re so frustrating sometimes! We are always having to clean up after you, you just do what you want and then leave a mess!” He was full on yelling at this point and it tipped you over the edge. You hiccuped as tears ran down your face, you didn’t say anything you just ran from the room and up the stairs to hide under your covers.

“What the hell was that?” Bucky asked as Steve sat the pans in the sink “what?” Steve asked “you made her cry? For what reason? She just wanted to do something nice for you.” Bucky was scolding now. “You expect her to clean all that up?” He asked and scoffed “she’s like 4 she doesn’t even understand what that even means.” Bucky shook his head.

Steve finally snapped out of whatever daze he was in and sighed “I know it was a rough day but you can’t take it out on her,she’s just a baby.” Bucky said leaving Steve to come comfort you.

Your pillow was soaked with tears as you heaved for breath. “Bunny..” Bucky’s voice was soft and calm “dada hates me!” You cried out into your pillow. “No, no he doesn’t baby. He’s just upset” Bucky sat on the bed pulling the covers back well enough to see your face.

Your eyes puffy and red,cheeks red from you rubbing at them, nose red from your sniffles. It broke his heart, tore it up truthfully to know you were so sad. “Come here, climb in daddy’s lap” he said and you shifted into his lap, legs wrapped around his waist and you pressed your head into his chest.

Bucky rocked you slowly, back and forth humming softly “dada, he’s just a little frustrated right now, bunny” he said and you nodded “he didn’t mean those things he said. Dada had a very bad day at work” you hiccuped from how hard you had cried. “Why?” You asked and Bucky smiled down at you. “You know how unhappy you get when we take away your toys at bedtime?” You nodded “that’s how dada feels right now” once he explained it you nodded. “Oh…” Bucky kissed your nose.

“Princess!” When you heard Steve yell up the stairs you turned to look at the door then Bucky. Bucky stood you up you both walking to the top of the stairs. You stood there looking down at him, Bucky behind you. He was leaned on the railing looking up at you “I’m sorry,” he said and you didn’t budge. “I took anger out on you and I’m sorry princess. Dada promises to do better. Can you forgive him?” He asked moving to crouch down at the bottom stairs.

You slowly made your way down the stairs “dada really hurt me” you said and Steve nodded “dada is really sorry princess.” His hand lifted to your side holding it there “sorry enough I can sleep with dada tonight?” You asked and he smiled “yes. You can sleep with your daddies tonight” you smiled content as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You need some water” Steve said knowing to hydrate you after you cried so hard. “I drew pictures!” You said pointing to the study. “I’ll go get them” Bucky said tracking down the stairs as Steve carried you onto the kitchen. “I’m thinking blue butterflies?” He asked holding out a sippy cup. You nodded and he sat you on the counter walking to the fridge to grab the kool-aid he keeps for you. He filled it up half way and snapped the lid on it.

Steve handed it to you as Bucky walked back in with the drawings. “These are very good, bunny” he said passing them for Steve to see as you sipped your drink. “Wow!” Steve said turning to clip them to the fridge. “Dada is just a grump old man” you said and giggled Steve smiled at you “oh yeah? Old man am I?” You nodded and Bucky shrugged “that means you’re dating a old man” Bucky informed you and you nodded “oh, I knows” they both smiled at you as you giggled.

#fem reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers x little!reader #bucky barnes x little!reader #stucky x little!reader #steve rogers

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ace-of-gay · 1 year

Text

Little mouse in an ocean

Stucky x little reader

Word count: 1,803 words oops lol

Warnings: intense sensory overload that leads to a more internalized meltdown, loki shows up, sippy, caregiver names like daddy, and dada, little names like baby boy, and munch short ofr munchkin, fidget items, sound canceling headphones, chest binding, comfort items.

Edited to the best of my ability

Age regression is a coping mechanism, if your not knowledgeable and uncomfortable of the topic either read up on it or ignore please <3

Reader is a trans man, no weight, ethnicity or hair type mentioned, reader is at least slightly able bodied in this

Dont like it dont read it especially when theres warnings

You’d been anticipating the event for a while so it didn't sneak up on you or anything but the Impending stress of having to mask for several hours and converse with people like it was on your everyday agenda, this was nothing of how you liked it, well beyond the several month warning, it gave you time to prepare both mentally and physically, gathering items you would need incase of a worst case scenario in a messenger bag, ranging from two different means of music, noise canceling headphones around the front part of the strap, Bluetooth earbuds fully charged and inside of the most front pouch accompanied by an infinity cube graced with rubber edges to not click like a normal cube, not wanting to bring attention to your discomfort in any situation.

Your favorite book, a couple small sweet and salty snacks depending on the situational needs, alongside a comfort snack , your smaller communication cards, a few more fidgets and essential items.

Bucky and Steve helped pack this bag for you, it being perfectly assembled for anything you could possibly need.

With that Bucky took you out to find a nice casual suit with fabrics that don’t irritate you.

All the small things arranged, it had your mind settled enough not to stress through the remaining time.

That is until you got there, when walking into the event hall you tug on the bottom of the jacket to your suit, adjusting it, "do you even pass?", whether or not you’re shorter, curvier, if your voice is deep enough , or if your handshake was firm enough, what ever your though in comparison may have been the idea of not passing was terrifying, Steve walking on your left puts his right hand on your shoulder leaning in, "you look handsome, i promise you’re absolutely perfect" his whispers calmed the choppy waters in your mind from becoming rapids.

You worked with some of these people, you knew a good portion of faces, knew even more names, your social analyzing has you determining who is good to talk to and who isn’t purely based on how they carry themselves, the people they talk to and how people look when they walk away, all factors you use to keep you most comfortable.

The best places to be in situations are either outside separate from people or around the food table where most often people are too occupied with collecting snacks and other food items, keeping your talking to a minimum and keeping your social battery higher for longer.

You figured you’d head over that way if it felt dire but for now you stuck with Bucky and Steve.

Trailing through the large people filled room, your boyfriends on each side of you to keep unwanted physical touch to a minimum.

Director fury approaches you three, shaking each persons hands, you know fury pretty well, the conversation going quick and simple, just as easy as the night had gone so far until people started ushering Steve one way and Bucky the other, leaving you disoriented, not entirely sure who you should go with, the confused lapse in time has you loosing them in the crowd, that’s okay, you’re big right now, you can fend for yourself, maybe find Nat or Thor, maybe Thor forced Loki to come along with.

That would be nice, a silent companion to keep you company while sitting in a dark corner avoiding most interactions, actually corners probably have the most amount of echo, at least perspective wise that is, you'd be able to hear everyone and than being next to a corn means you’re closer to the sound reflection hearing it twice, that’s something that would absolutely irritate you, possibly even give you a splitting headache.

Being in this room no one by your side, having to navigate your way through a crowd of now unfamiliar faces, peoples conversations bouncing off of one another, high heels going in all directions, clicking like shark teeth in infested feeding water, social vampires, maybe not everyone but gods did it feel like everyone.

People feasting off of communication, jingling keys like lures, or maybe bells, like the service indication bell in your local comfort food restaurant, so many indications, so many people, all sounds equally intrusive you just want to shut it out but you cant until you’re in a place where no one will question why you have headphones on at a party.

A constantly shifting maze of people, hands patting your back as people pass through the crowd, a few people stopping you for conversations that you try to keep to a minimum saying you’re looking for Bucky or Steve.

Standing in such a room alone, you would be able to feel the air currents change but this room packed with more people than an official tony stark party, it felt like the air itself had stiffened and is on the brink of collapsing in your lungs, it felt suffocating to the point holding your breath would be a better means of keeping yourself together than breathing at all.

With everything swirling, people constantly touching you, talking to you, your mind slips fast, in moments like this you put on chapstick and pretend its superglue so not to make a cosmic fool of yourself if you could even manage to get words out.

You finally make it out of the crowd only to realize most of the drinks are probably spiked, you refrain from drinking anything you don’t know, you make a b line to the patio door stepping out into the cool fresh air, the bite of cold in your lungs amongst a deep breath being the edge of the blade, it was soothing, so soothing that everything from inside broke loose, a quiet choked sob broke from your chest, if you were big right now you would know what to do but you feel so small, so very small, like a mouse in the ocean next to a baleen whale.

Your hands trembling as though electricity was pulsing through your veins, rapidly looking around, dazed vision making everything quite unclear, bumping into someone you begin to stumble back, just your luck, both big and small you know that waterfall of black locks anywhere, and he knew you.

Loki, one person who understood the entirety of the situation, carefully he leads you aside, "you’re okay, its going to be okay, we'll find Bucky and Steve" mumbling it out quietly, the first vast difference between him and the room, his voice like Bucky and Steve’s voices was safe.

He takes the headphones off the front strap of your messenger bag, helping you put them on over your ears, feeling the world go silent, sound has pressure so the lack of sound felt less like a kick drum in your ears and more like a deep breath in winter air.

Taking the communication cards out of your bag he finds two cards, showing each one, you look at him with big eyes, tears still threatening to spill you show him the mouse card.

Small.

He nods, handing you one of the small fidgets, closing your bag and taking your hand, into his cold delicate one.

He signals for you to take a few deep breaths with him and than you’re once again back into the warped room, warm of people, sharp of knowing all the sounds, he leads you through the very best route but even still people are bumping into your, patting your back when passing and trying to stop you in your tracks.

You can see Steve’s golden hair practically glowing, you let go of Loki’s hand trying to rush past people to your boyfriend but another sturdy intruding body gets in the way, bumping you causing you to drop your fidget, looking to the ground to find it.

A small mouse in the ocean amongst a group of narwhals in the eye of a thunderstorm.

Electricity raging in your hands, in your arms, in your chest and in a split second your dominant hand slams down hard onto your thigh three times just above your knee, grabbing your fidget, doing your best to hold back the electricity, you watch as Steve turns around.

Its as if he’s in slow motion, you cant get to him fast enough, you’re being held against his chest, holding tightly to his shirt fabric creasing in your grasp, he’s talking to Loki getting the most of what he can on what happened.

He has you turn around so you can walk but your eyes are closed he’s directing you through, making sure nothing touches you.

You feel the cool air touch your tear streaked cheeks cooling the tear trails.

Sitting in the car you wait for Bucky, eating one of your snacks and drinking a water based drink Steve had poured into a spare sippy he kept in the car.

"I’m so sorry munch, i turned away and you were gone, we didn't mean to put you through that, I’m so proud of you for finding Loki and letting him help", you nuzzle further into his side, touch may be unsafe but theirs was magic.

Bucky hops in the front seat turning to look at you and Stevie cuddled together in the back, reaching out for Bucky he takes your hand and holds it to his lips, he can tell just how small you are from how easy you are to maneuver. "Hi baby boy, daddy is here, lets go home now, is that okay?" You didn't respond, you were too busy feeling the metal plates of his hand.

The drive home was quick, tucked into dada Steve’s side, feeling the thrum of his heart in his chest between each breath, now inside in comfortable clothes and out of your binder one of Steve’s hoodies on you with the sleeves rolled up so your hands could peek out, laying safely between both of your caregivers, the havoc of the day having tired you out.

Bucky gets a notification saying that the food he ordered was delivered, he leaves only to return with dinner and your stuffy he picked up from the living room on his way back.

Little jerks and jolts here and there from remnant electricity occasionally causing you to hold your breath only for one of your daddies to find a new way to remind you to breathe, this time dada Stevie tapped the tip of your nose causing you to quietly coo, breathing.

Words aren’t an expectation, neither are sounds, they just want you to feel better and if that means holding you safely tucked between them than so be it, they would do anything and everything to keep their boy safe.

Because they’re with you til the end of the line.

This is twice as long as i meant for it to be but you absolutely deserve a longer fic, thank you so much for your patience and thank you for requesting <33 @valetim09

I had to fix the layout because for some odd reason it got all mixed up

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iloveslasher · 6 months

Text

Attention

Avengers

I need help with finding a wattpad book on avengers x little!reader.

So I once read this fan fic of the avengers team which included: steve rogers, bucky barnes, Tony stark, pepper potts, Bruce banner,Thor odinson, natasha romanoff, wanda maximoff, vision, Clint barton and sam Wilson as the reader (who's named violet) caregivers.

Because Violet was used and abused so the avengers saved her and she at first felt nothing of her physical wounds but then the avengers told her that's not normal and got her looked at by bruce. And got her off the painkillers that her captor put her on.

One chapter has a protocol that she can't use the bathroom bc she is hurting her self by not being little so they kind of have to pressure her into being little.

Then loki and stephen stranger baby sit in one chapter. Which reveal that loki is also a little. Then there is carol as a little.

And another chapter where wanda and vision give violet schoollessons (bc she was capture really young and doesn't know hoe to write or read). Then they discover that Violet has dyslexia by telling her to go right and she takes a left, off of visions suspicions.

Also Steve and bucky are a pair and later violet starts dating Natasha and Natasha helps violet through her first period.

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babyhatesreality · 2 years

Text

Feels Like the First Time part 2

Pairing: Stucky x f!reader

Warnings: Angst, DDLG themes (all safe, sane, and consensual), fluff, reader is named (but barely), pet names. This is set in my own personal Avengers AU that doesn’t follow the typical OTPs. If that’s not your thing, kindly move along :)

A/N- sooooo wow. I went from being a wallflower here, writing for fun and for my own amusement, to getting my first reblog, and then several more, then even getting followers. WHAT. Y’all are the best. This is all pretty new to me, thanks for being cool <3 Part 2 here. You were concentrating so hard, the crayon gripped in your little fist, your tongue poking out the side of your mouth. You HAD to get this just right. You were kneeling next to the coffee table, your crayons piled and scattered across the shiny black surface. This was very important, so you obviously needed all 8130526384 of your crayons at your instant disposal to make this work of art.

Steve and Bucky walked into the living room, hand in hand. “How’s the coloring going, Bunny?” Bucky asked, grinning at your furrowed brow and look of pure determination. You didn’t answer for a moment, completely focused on finishing the picture. Steve sighed with a smile. He’d been forever encouraging you to only take out the crayons that you would need to color, one at a time, but it was clear that it wasn’t working. Hey, you had your own artistic methods- you didn’t tell HIM how to throw HIS shield.

Finally finishing, you looked up with a grin. “Lookit!!” you exclaimed excitedly, holding the picture up to them. “I did it!” You had made it your mission to make everyone attending the party tonight their own personal work of crayon art. “See? It’s Unca Tony and Aunt Pepper and Petie! And Petie’s got webs all over and Aunt Pepper is on her phone because she’s running the world.”

“And what’s that in Tony’s hand?”

“Money.”

They both snorted a laugh at that one. “Good job, munchkin,” Steve praised, making you blush. “Is that all of them then? Did you finish all your pictures?”

You nodded vigorously. “Uh huh! Unca Clint and Aunt Laura and Aunt Nat and Unca Bruce and Wanda and Pietro and and Unca Thor and-”

“Nice work, sweetheart,” Steve interrupted, knowing that you would literally list every single person in the Tower if they let you keep going. “Since you’re done, can you please sit on the couch for us? We need to have a talk.”

You froze, then looked up at them with wide eyes. You only got sat down on the couch for a talking to when you were in trouble. “Was...was I bad? I’m sorry,” you said in a rush, your eyes darting between your super soldier daddies.

“No, no, honey,” Steve said in a rush, holding his hands out while inwardly cursing himself for unintentionally worrying you- the LAST thing he wanted to do right now. “You’re not in trouble at all. Daddy and I just want to talk to you about the party tonight.”

“’Kay,” you said, getting up slowly from next to the coffee table and hesitantly making your way to the couch, still playing out the day in your mind. What had you done wrong? You knew Papa didn’t really like it when you got ALL the crayons out, maybe that was it. Did that mean you couldn’t come to the party tonight? You were on the verge of apologizing again when Bucky suddenly scooped you up and plopped you down on his lap on the couch with a theatrical “OOF”.

“Now do you believe that you’re not in trouble, kid?” Daddy joked, tickling you a bit. You giggled and squirmed in his arms, then nuzzled into his chest, relieved. Papa sat down next to the both of you, putting his hand on your leg comfortingly. As if by instinct, you reached out and put your hand on top of his. You loved and craved physical affection, and when they were this close you couldn’t help but touch.

Steve swallowed hard as your small hand touched his huge one. It was moments like this that turned his skin back into ice, realizing that if they didn’t succeed tonight, he might lose this sweet and innocent touch forever. He put on a brave smile and quickly looked at Bucky, who was pressing his nose into your hair and breathing in your scent. Bucky felt Steve’s eyes on him and gave him a single nod, silently saying let’s do this.

“Are you excited about the party tonight?” Steve asked you, running his thumb back and forth over your skin, not wanting your hand to move.

You giggled, looking back and forth between them. “Yeah! Gonna be so fun,” you said with a cute little smirk. “Everybody is coming at once and they’ve never been here before all at once!”

“Well, they’ve never been here together while YOU’VE been here,” Bucky corrected, but gently. “That’s part of what makes tonight so special.” You could see he was having a little trouble with a genuine smile, but you didn’t know why. Before you could ask, Steve spoke again.

“Daddy’s right, tonight is special. But we’re also going to have to follow the rules tonight, right?”

“Right!” you said, eager to please. Steve smirked.

“Katie-Cat, do you know what rules I’m talking about?” he asked, grinning.

“Nope!”

He chuckled again, reaching for you. You leaned into his arms willingly as he moved you onto his own lap. Bucky started rubbing your feet, still needing to touch you as well.

“I’m talking about bedtime, sweetheart,” Steve said, leaning a bit away so he could gauge your reaction. “When Daddy and I say that it’s time for bed tonight, you need to go to bed and stay there. Do you understand?”

You wrinkled your nose. Bedtime was the worst. Other than the soothing bubble bath, the comfy jammies, cuddling with the best daddies in the world under soft blankets and getting at least two stories and your favorite bunny Jellybean and forehead kisses. Otherwise, the worst. “But what if everybody is still at the party?” you asked anxiously, wondering if you could negotiate a way to a later bedtime. “They will miss me if I go to bed.”

“Remember, we’re having a barbecue tomorrow,” Bucky said, shaking your foot a bit to get your attention. “You will see them all tomorrow, but only if you go to bed when you’re told to.” Steve’s eyes darted to his in a warning not to reveal too much. They weren’t allowed to tell you that if you didn’t pass tonight, there would BE no tomorrow. But seeing as it could be interpreted as not being allowed to attend due to bad behavior, it was passable.

That was the test. You had to be surrounded by the other Avengers in a comfortable setting, but go to bed and stay there at your bedtime. So simple- almost too simple, ridiculously simple for so much to be riding on this. But this would show the board of directors at SHIELD that you were able to behave, do what you were told to do, and follow through in a comfortable setting. You’d already proved that you could follow directions and be good the night when the alarms went off and Bucky suddenly had to leave for a “mission”. You’d been restless, waiting for Daddy to return safely, but you had listened to Papa and stayed in bed with him, cuddling into him as he whispered sweet nothings to you and eventually going back to sleep. When they simulated an attack on the tower, you had stayed in the safe room with Peter, playing with the massive amounts of toys and activities that were already loaded in their for this exact reason, not knowing that Bucky and Steve were watching you anxiously on the monitor while the SHIELD board analyzed your every move while in there. You were a bit shaken after the “attack” was over, but lots of cuddles with your daddies had helped and you were perfectly fine. Had you freaked out at any of these, or tried to take matters into your own hands by leaving the room to find your daddies, or had it shown any negative impact on your mental health, you would have been mind wiped instantly and gone.

But this last test was the kicker. The board thought (for some stupid-ass reason according to Fury) that it would be easier for you to behave when there was danger, sirens, and shaking floors. They believed it would be harder for you to follow orders when you were comfortable, but it would be no less important. They needed to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you would follow your caregivers directions at ALL times, keeping you safe, secure, and healthy no matter what the situation. And it was a test for them as well, seeing how they were handling your care and your well being. Being able to put you to bed at your regular bedtime when you might not want to go without a huge meltdown or fight would prove to them that you were capable of handling the Avengers lifestyle as their little girl. Now you were only this one moment away from being cleared full time. Of course you didn’t know this. Of course they weren’t allowed to tell you, so as to get your natural reaction to the various situations. Of course the rest of the team knew what was going on, and were pulling for your little family so hard. Of course none of them knew that Steve and Bucky would pack up and leave the Avengers before they’d let you be taken away from them. Of course the two of them knew that it would mean a lifetime on the run, as SHIELD wouldn’t take kindly to three people loose in the world doing god knows what who could potentially expose their secrets. And of course, Steve and Bucky knew that if all that happened and you learned the truth and you all had to leave the Tower, you might not want to stay with them at all.

All of this flew through Bucky’s mind as he gently massaged your foot. “So you need to be a good girl tonight, okay? Do as your told, and don’t be fightin’ Papa or me when it’s bedtime. Understood?”

You slumped into Steve’s chest. “But...but...” you said. Your little mind was already awash with horror at the idea of being taken away from the fun party that would be going on without you, having no clue that it could be so much worse.

Steve squeezed you gently, knowing what was going through your mind. “Listen, baby,” he said in his kind yet firm tone. “We know you don’t like bedtime, and we know it’s going to be hard to go to bed when it’s bedtime. But you’ll get to say good night to everyone- you like that part, right?”

“I guess,” you mumbled, trying to hide the fact that you did love goodnight hugs from the team- they were all SUCH GOOD HUGGERS.

“And you can go to sleep in Daddy’s and my bed, so when the party is done just a little while later, we’ll come in and cuddle you all night. Sound good?”

You bit your lower lip, thinking, as Steve’s and Bucky’s hearts stopped, waiting for your answer. “Will you stay with me until I go to sleep?” you asked, peeking up at him and then over at Bucky through your long lashes and working your best Bambi eyes. A genuine smile washed over Bucky’s face, making your heart warm. You loved his smile- his real one.

“Try and stop us, Trouble,” he teased, tickling your feet. A giggle burst out of your mouth and you gently kicked, causing him to snatch your foot in his vibrainum hand and pretend to bite it, making you squeal with laughter. After a moment of fun, Steve kissed your hair. You turned your happy face to him, and he leaned down to rub noses with you.

“Best behavior tonight, please,” he whispered, giving you eskimo kisses. You returned them eagerly.

“Best behavior tonight, Papa,” you agreed, then threw your arms around his neck and squeezed tight. Steve wrapped his arms around you, too overcome to speak. Bucky scooted over and wrapped you both in his arms as well. They had done the best they can to prep you. Now it was up to you. A/N- So what do you think? Can she do it?? We’ll find out in part 3 :)

#daddy!stucky #daddy stucky #daddy bucky #daddy!bucky #daddy!bucky x little!reader #daddy steve #daddy!steve #daddy!steve x little!reader #stucky #stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader

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angelbaby-fics · 4 months

Note

Daddy stucky x little reader x little Peter where the reader is in babyspace and want to give them paci kisses and everytime she does she start to giggle 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Paci Kisses

Word Count: 640

A/N: Eeeep this idea is so so cute, thank you for requesting it!!! I don't know what else to say about this one other than I had a sweet time writing it & I hope you enjoy! 💕

Steve and Bucky were so very in love, and they weren’t afraid to show it. Every morning when Steve put breakfast down on the table, he’d kiss Bucky on the lips before they each began eating, their own little way of saying grace. Peter would always giggle, usually regressed around that silly age when kisses meant cooties, but you were too little to understand. Every time one of them left the house, they’d share a kiss; sometimes even just when one of them left the room. You were so tiny, you didn’t fully comprehend what it meant, your brain only really working in concepts. All you knew was that daddies meant love, and daddies kissed a lot, so kisses must mean love too. You wanted to return the favor.

That morning, you were woken up by Steve’s strong arms lifting you out of your crib. You blinked sleepily and smiled at him from behind your paci, your cheeks rounding out and your eyes squinting as you did so.

“Good morning angel, I love you,” Steve greeted, always wanting the first thing you heard every morning to be words of love. He kissed you on the forehead and shifted you into the crook of his arm so he could carry you out into the living room with one hand. As he did so, you leaned forward, tapping the plastic of your pacifier against his cheek.

“Woah, what was that, baby?” Steve asked with a slight chuckle. He didn’t think you’d really be violent with him, but he wasn’t sure what you could be doing when you clumsily headbutted his cheek.

You were too small to explain it, your little brain couldn’t find the words. All you could think to do was kiss him, over and over and over.

“Mwah, mwah, mwah!” You mumbled softly from behind the paci, softening your taps in the hopes he’d get the memo. And boy did he. “Is that a kiss? Are you kissing daddy?” Steve asked with wide, excited eyes and laughter in his voice.

You nodded, giggling as you kissed him again, again, again. Steve kissed you back, planting his lips on the plastic, which made you giggle even more. Then, he carried you into the living room where Bucky and Peter were, with a huge grin on his face.

“Buck! Look what our baby can do!” He said with glee, and then tapped on his cheek, motioning for you to kiss him once more, which you did joyously.

Bucky cheered and clapped for you, getting up from the couch to give a standing ovation, which made you beam even harder from behind the paci.

“Can I have one, babydoll?” He asked eagerly, and you nodded, reaching out from Steve’s arms towards Bucky’s.

You happily kissed your Baba all over his face, giggling after each one until eventually the kisses devolved into you just nuzzling your paci across his cheeks like a puppydog. Steve joined the cuddlefest on the couch, pinching your little round cheeks. Peter had been distracted from his toys since the moment you entered the room, watching your interactions with captivated awe, but he finally couldn’t stand it anymore. He stood up, letting a toy car fall from his hand with a clatter.

“‘S not fair! I want kisses too!” He whined with a pout.

You didn’t want your Petie to feel left out, you loved him just as much as you loved your daddies of course. You reached out to him now, kicking your little feet with delight as he ran over to the three of you. Now your whole family was together on the couch, and you took turns kissing each of them, and each of them took turns kissing you. You’d already mastered your newest skill, and you couldn’t wait to keep practicing every single day.

#little!reader #stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky #bucky x little!reader #steve rogers x little!reader #daddy!bucky #daddy!steve #cg!bucky #cg!steve #cg x little!reader #peter x little!reader #little!peter x little!reader #marvel agere #agere fic #chloe's fic

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pahtoosh · 1 month

Text

baba face

[image ID: photos of sebastian stan, chris evans, and various stuffed animals photoshopped onto a yellow background. sebastian stan is holding a round wolf stuffed animal and looking into the distance. chris evans is hiding a smile with a hand over his mouth. the stuffed animals include four frowning stuffed animals and one smiling one. /.end ID]

masterlist

18+

wc: ~2400 words

warnings: reader takes a little tumble

a/n: this was inspired by @angelbaby-fics ! Chloe, thank you for showing me your turtle and inspiring this whole piece! (side note: if anyone would like to talk about their stuffies, I would LOVE to hear about them!!

pairing: stucky x gn!little!reader

summary: sam gets a stuffed animal for reader that frowns like bucky! things get out of hand when the other avengers join in and buy reader way too many grumpy stuffies

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ

It all started when Sam came back from a mission in late June. The Avengers would sometimes bring back presents when they went overseas. They didn’t always have the time to stop by a gift shop but when they did, the gifts were always cherished and held a little closer when the Avenger eventually had to travel again.

Two weeks before his mission, you had gotten very close with Sam. Your daddies asked him to watch over you one day and he gave you a whole adventure. He took you to a pottery painting studio, then the park, and ended the day with the best ice cream you’ve ever had. From then on, you were inseparable.

During group meal times, you’d make jokes with him across the table. If you were allowed in the room for a meeting, you’d pass notes back and forth. Sam would also play with you during Tony’s summer parties; he was going to let you fly with redwing before Bucky marched outside and confined you to his hip for the rest of the night. You didn’t mind too much though, the sky probably wasn’t as comfortable as being held by Baba.

Your attachment to Sam made this mission all the more difficult for everyone involved. You, because you missed your friend. Sam, because he missed your happy giggles and felt bad for leaving you right when he finally gained your trust. And your daddies because they had to witness you get sad every time something reminded you of Sam.

Fortunately, the mission was going well and he was expected to return right on time. On his last day, Sam was looking both ways to cross the street when a stuffed animal in a display window caught his eye. He looked at his watch to see if he had enough time to make his flight, then quickly entered the store and bought the plushie because he knew you’d love it.

On the plane, Sam sat with the plushie in his lap to keep it safe. It was still in the bag from the store, looking like an oddly shaped lump in a now wrinkly paper bag. When Sam returned to the tower, Steve was the first to greet him before you nudged your Dada out of the way to give Sam a bone-crushing hug.

“I missed you, Sammy!”

“I missed you too, peanut.” He kneeled down and handed you the paper bag. “I gotcha something.”

You beamed at him. “Thank you! I love it!”

Sam laughed. “You haven’t even opened it yet!”

“I already know I’m gonna like it because it’s from you,” you said, matter of factly. “But okay.”

You opened the bag and gasped when you saw the plush.

It was a soft turtle with a slightly slouched posture, but that wasn’t the part you were focused on. Your favorite part was the plushie’s grumpy expression. It looked just like Bucky.

“HE HAS BABA FACE! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!” You screamed your gratitude while running circles around the trio of Sam and your daddies. Sam and Steve were barely holding in their laughter, meanwhile Bucky stood confused, but happy that you were happy. Despite his super hearing, he wasn’t sure if he heard you correctly. Did you say baba face? Or maybe you said bubble face?

Bucky figured that this wasn’t something he needed the answers to immediately, so he didn’t ask any questions and resolved to watching you tire yourself out.

The grumpy turtle became your new shadow. Everywhere you went, so did the plush. You’d have it tucked under your arm while running through the compound. During mealtimes in your home, the turtle would get his own chair and toy food. Outside, you kept your turtle in a drawstring backpack with the head poking out so he could see the world too. When your daddies carried you around, you’d make a silly game out of making the turtle mess up your Dada’s hair or bite your Baba’s ears.

Even before giving you the turtle, Sam loved to boast about how he was your favorite Avenger(you didn’t have a favorite, but you didn’t have the heart to correct him on that when he kept giving you all of his attention). When you all played hide and seek, he bragged for three days straight about how you chose him to be your partner. Your attachment to the turtle only heightened his pride.

He always asked you where the turtle was, knowing it couldn’t be more than three feet away from you. Sam made a big fuss about the turtle having his own seat at the dinner table and fell victim to your strength and contagious giggles when you pushed him out of his seat to make room for your turtle. Sam learned his lesson that day and didn’t fight for the turtle to have his own chair in the debriefing room. However, he did bring in an extra stool for the plush. Sam even bought you the very drawstring backpack that allowed you to take your new friend on your outdoor adventures. In private, he’d ask you about how the turtle was settling into his new home and gave him the gentlest kiss when you said the turtle needed more lovin’.

The others all thought your friendship with Sam was adorable, but there was one person who saw this as an opportunity for some friendly competition. Natasha knew that there was room in your heart for more than one avenger bestie, so she devised a plan to take her spot. She had two missions in August–the first: survey a crime group that’s suspected to have ties with Zemo. The second: give you a gift worthy of four days of bragging.

After successful recon, Natasha’s plane landed in the Avenger’s HQ. She turned in her paperwork that she completed on the flight home, then went to freshen up so she could give you your gift. Natasha found you cuddled up with Steve in the movie room watching some old cartoon. She knocked on the door.

“Got any room for a couple more friends on that couch?”

“Natty, you’re back!” You untangled yourself from Steve and ran to give her a hug. You looked behind her expecting to see more of the group. “Where’s the other friends?”

She held up a bag with the arm that wasn’t hugging you. “Your new friend traveled a long way to get here.”

You squealed and hugged Natasha again before accepting the bag from her hand and kneeling on the floor to pull out the tissue paper and free your gift.

“You guys are spoiling them, you know that?” Steve asked, lightheartedly from the couch.

“Oh hush, how many hours of screen time have you given them today?”

Steve opened and closed his mouth a couple times, not expecting the question.

“Doesn’t count if the movies came from your time, right?”

Any response from Steve was cut off by your cheering.

“BABA OCTOPUS!! BABATOPUS!!” you held up the plush proudly like it was Simba. “Dada, look!”

“Oh he’s beautiful, baby.” Steve chuckled at the round, bright red octopus plush with a deep frown on its face. “What do you say to Nat?”

“THANK YOU NAAAT!” you yelled. Excitement flickered across your face once more, then you ran out of the movie room with the octopus securely tucked under your arm.

“Where are you going, baby? And no running indoors!” Steve shouted as he chased after you.

You slowed for a bit, but kept moving at a swift pace. “I hav’ta show Baba my new friend!”

Natasha watched your little race from the movie room with an amused grin on her face. During dinner that night, she enjoyed the shocked look on Sam’s face when you pulled up with two grumpy plushies and pretended to feed the octopus before the turtle.

Sam turned to Natasha. “You have no idea what you’ve just started.”

She smirked. “And you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

Steve leaned over to whisper to Bucky. “We’re gonna need more space in the playroom.”

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

The competition expanded beyond Natasha and Sam. All of the Avengers were determined to find the next grumpy plush to win your heart. There was a penguin from Peter, a frog from Thor, a cat from Tony, and a panda from Wanda. Your collection was starting to get out of control. You desperately wanted to carry all of your plushies everywhere with you to keep things fair, but your daddies put an end to that when you tripped on the sidewalk while trying to push a stroller full of scowling stuffed animals.

Bucky decided to help you create a system so you could fairly pick one plushie from the collection to carry around for the day. He made small slips of paper so you could write down their names and pull one out of a cup each morning. He brought his supplies to you while you were having an afternoon snack at the dining table. His heart broke seeing you with your knees bandaged up and the streaks of dried tears from the fall earlier today still on your face.

“Hi, Baba,” you sniffled.

“Hey, sweetie. What’s going on? You eatin’ your snack?”

“Mhm.”

“Why aren’t you eating at the kitchen island, baby? You always eat your snack there.”

You pouted and gestured to the plushies sitting around you. “I can’t fit all my friends there.”

“Oh I know, bubs. It must be so hard carrying all these guys around, huh?” He mentally scolded himself for leaving you alone during your snack. He should’ve known better than to expect you to stay put when your little friends were trapped inside the stroller. It must’ve taken so long to arrange the plushies around the table with your injury.

You perked up at his next words.

“Baba has something for you.” Bucky spread out the slips of paper on the table and placed a cup next to them. “You can write down the names of all your little friends on these papers and pick one name out of the cup to decide which one you’re walking around with for the day. Does that sound fair?”

You shrugged, “I guess I can do that.” You really would’ve liked a solution that allowed you to bring all of the grumpy plushies with you everywhere, but deep down you knew that it just wasn’t practical. You took the pencil that Bucky held out for you and started writing down your plushies’ names.

Your Baba lovingly kissed the top of your head and rubbed your back while you wrote. He loved watching you focus on a task. He almost didn’t notice what you were writing down.

Bucky squinted then blinked a couple of times, not believing what he saw. “Baby, why are you writing ‘Baba’ on everything?”

You paused and tilted your head back to look at him. “That’s their names. Baba Turtle and Baba Cat and Baba Bear and Baba-”

“Why do you call them that?”

“‘Cause look!” You picked up the grumpy frog sitting next to you and held it out for Bucky to see. “They look like Baba!” You hugged the plushie before setting it back down to continue writing.

Bucky’s heart melted. His sweet, wonderful baby was so attached to these plushies that reminded them of him. His signature scowl that often got him into trouble brought them comfort. His friends even noticed and spoiled his baby rotten with even more of these toys.

Bucky continued watching you work. He looked at the plushies differently now.

𓏲 ࣪₊♡

Steve and Bucky were cleaning your playroom. Normally this would be your responsibility, but you had gone to bed a little earlier, and they didn’t want you walking too much with your injury. Steve was putting your plushies into their designated bins. He wasn’t harsh with them, but his efficient method of gathering an armful and plopping them down certainly would have raised an eyebrow from you.

“Hey, go easy with turtle me,” Bucky teased.

“Turtle you?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded proudly, then held the plush up to his face. “Don’t you see the resemblance?”

“Whatever, punk. At least my face isn’t the reason we have a 50 gallon bin of stuffed animals.” Steve turned around and kept cleaning, completely missing the look of excitement on Bucky’s face.

The next day, your Baba volunteered to pick up breakfast while Steve helped you get ready. Bucky stopped by a toy store on his way to the bakery. He’d seen this particular plushie before and knew that this was the perfect moment to get it for you. Not too long later, he was entering your home with bagels in one hand and your new friend in the other.

Bucky hid the plush behind his back when he heard you and Steve walking towards him.

“Hi, Baba!”

“Good morning, baby.” Bucky leaned down to kiss your forehead, then kissed Steve’s cheek as a thanks when he handed off the box of bagels.

You hugged Bucky and couldn’t help but notice that one of his hands wasn’t hugging you back.

“Baba, hug me better,” you whined.

Bucky laughed. “Hang on, I’ve got somethin’ for ya.”

You gasped in excitement and took a step back so you could see. Bucky revealed the plush with a dramatic flourish, then somewhat nervously waited for your reaction. The stuffed animal had you in shock. It was a stuffed giraffe that stood with the most perfect posture. It had spiky hair, blue eyes, and a charming smile. You knew exactly who it was supposed to resemble.

“IT'S DADA!” You squealed and graciously took the plush while running to the kitchen where Steve was. He was already making his way to you when he heard your scream.

“Dada’s right here, bubba. What’s going on?”

You held up the plush while doing a little dance. “Look! It’s a Dada giraffe!”

Steve laughed then ran a hand over his face when he made the connection. You ran off to your playroom, saying something about “finding a Baba for this Dada” while your daddies shared a look.

Bucky brought in Steve for a hug, patting his dumbfounded lover on the back. He playfully whispered in his ear, “We’re gonna need more space in the playroom.”

#stucky x little!reader #daddy!stucky x little!reader #gn!little!reader #oneshot #fluff #sfw regression #agere fic #marvel agere #sfw agere #baba face #baba-face #toosh writes #plushie fic #stuffie fic

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timidpumpkin · 10 months

Text

Little Light (Stucky x reader)

Part 4: Retribution

Pairing: Dark!Stucky x f!reader

Word count: 5.8k

Summary: While you're left feeling hopelessly confused, it's clear to Steve and Bucky that you have a lot to learn about being their good little girl.

Warnings for this part: Dark!Stucky, Daddy!Stucky, Forced age regression, DDLG themes, Female reader, Manipulation, Violence against reader, Being tied up, Hints to sexual themes, This one's dark folks, Mean Steve and Bucky, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI

As always, lemme know if I missed any!!

Notes: Thank you to everyone who has supported me since I posted Part 1 many many months ago. I love you all and appreciate your support and kind words more than I can express. I'm super nervous to post this one so i'm really hoping everyone likes it. ^.^

Tagging: @ppatricia34me @canyonmooncreations @haleyhunwritess

(lemme know if you wanna be added to my taglist!)

P.S. Please feel free to comment/ask questions as they are a million times appreciated as I ALWAYS love to read you guy's thoughts!

(pictures are not my own)

Warm.

The cozy temperature surrounding you beckons you to sink further into its comfortable drowsy feeling. It feels nice–good. It’s comfortable as you pull at the blanket wrapped around you to cover the cold tip of your nose.

When you do though, adjusting as you move, adrenaline rushes through you.

All sense of tranquility leaps out of your body to be replaced by standing hairs and cold blood as you realize you’re not napping in your bed.

No–you’re napping on your capture’s lap.

Hazy memories from just a bit ago replay in your mind. The picture they paint is fogged up by an overcast of intense emotion.

Worry. Fear. Shock.

The panic you felt is now an almost disembodied ghost, content with hiding in the closet as it knows you can’t handle its presence anymore.

Not right now.

It would be too much. Your body and mind having already fought till every single cell within you is doused with exhaustion.

The wispy wave of relief you felt–feel–now molds into another feeling. It rips the comfort your body so desperately clings to at this moment of peril and unkindly reminds you that you shouldn’t have let your guard down.

But you did.

You–as you see it–involuntarily allowed the very person, no, the very people who have snatched you, took you from your, albeit, unexcitingly ordinary–but otherwise stable–life, to soothe the very predicament they have forced you in.

As you recall their hushed voices anchoring you, steady hands smoothing your trembling ones, and sweet comfort that you somehow found in their pacifying of you, the one emotion you painfully feel now is…embarrassment. It aligns with disgrace you feel within yourself for giving into…this.

You stiffen, body frozen in place as you become acutely aware of your situation again. Both the larger reality of being held hostage, and the other–ever so slightly smaller issue–that currently places your head nestled right in your captor’s lap. Bucky’s lap.

This is what you found so comforting in your sleep state?

Head wedged exactly between his legs, resting heavily against his lower half. Your hands curled up. You stare at them. They lay right in front of your view. Almost too close to your vision where you watch them resting, palms nestled down between his thighs.

But it’s not just your position. It’s his too. One of his arms is resting against you, draped over your side, his hand sprawled just at your navel, adding to the welcoming warmth you felt upon waking up. The other, languidly stroking your head with his thumb.

It’s an intimate position–close–in more ways than one. It’s not one you should be in, it’s not one you’re in voluntarily–despite what your last memories torturously remind you.

“You get enough sleep there, princess?” Bucky’s voice calls. You haven’t spoken a word but he must be able to tell you’re awake. Whether it’s from how your muscles have tensed, or the way you’ve been holding your breath since, is unknown to you.

You can’t see him. Your eyes are too intensely focused on how your hands rest with faux intimacy at his thighs and the realization of how long you’ve been in this position makes your lungs feel as if they don’t work anymore.

“You really scared Dada you know,” he moves his hand from your navel to caress your arm as he lends forward a bit to get a better view of your face. Still, frozen in place, you don't meet his gaze. Your self-preservation response only knows how to freeze now as you don’t move, but keep looking forward, completely unsure of how to tackle the situation you’re in.

Waves of memory come back to you. It’s blurry as you remember how scared you were. You remember how Steve calmed you. How his voice led you to placidity. How could that be? It’s what led you to the position you're in now.

Vulnerable. Again. And yet, you let it happen.

But you didn’t, no–you couldn’t–you don't remember exactly with anxiety fogging up your memory.

You knew one thing for sure; you couldn’t give in.

“Not going to ignore Daddy now, are you?” Bucky questions, taking his hand to your chin and facing it upwards so you’re looking up to him. Somehow, it’s still shocking how large he looks. You feel as though you've somehow been shrunk down a third of your size when looking at him. His hand is mostly just ghosting your face, guiding it up as he looms over you, one cheek smooshed against his navel now as his hand remains on the other.

“Hmm?” he questions, his pointer finger tapping methodically on your cheek, prompting you to answer. “Don’t tell me you forgot your manners already now, doll.”

“I-I wanna go home,” You try to sit up, not exactly sure why you said that, as recent events have told you already it’s not what he wants to hear. But you’re just not sure about anything at the moment. He looks at you with a displeased look, face dropping into an unkind frown.

His hold on you tightens; his forearm presses down on your chest lightly, silently reminding you that trying to move would be a bad idea. You don’t fight it, knowing you wouldn’t be able to succeed in getting up even if your life depended on it.

“You are home.” he declares curtly, before swiftly picking you up, dizzying you as he turns you around. You feel as though you’ve barely blinked before you’re in the new position. Your back is to his stomach as he situates you on his lap. His right arm wraps snugly around your waist, firmly securing you against his body. His left hand reaches in front and clasps around your cheeks, the cool metal instantly raising goosebumps on your once warm face as he slowly tilts your head back and forth for you, forcing you to look around the room.

“You see all this?” he lilts with a scolding undertone. “This is your home. All of it.” he pauses before–somehow–squeezing you closer to him. He brings his head to the side of your ear. His chest flush against your back, engulfing your body, and encapsulating your very being with how he maintains his grip on your face. His breath dances lightly against your ear as he speaks, adding to the chilling feeling overtaking your insides.

“Now what would you call a house where two Daddies take care of their little baby?” He speaks in a low, hushed tone. Not a sweet one–like the hushed subdued one Steve used on you just hours ago–No, Bucky’s tone is polar to that. It’s mocking, and sardonic as you can almost feel the smirk gracing his face without even looking at him. It’s as if he’s asking the most rhetorical question known to man. “Hmm?”

You feel your own breathing pick up. It becomes evident with how every millimeter your chest moves, your lungs have to fight against the pressure of Bucky’s heavy arms around you. Your mind is blank as fright starts to fill it instead. How were you supposed to answer that?

When you take too long to respond, Bucky promptly pinches at your side and simultaneously squeezes your cheeks harder, causing a retaliatory yelp out of you.

“Ah! I-I don’t know!” you squirm around at the pain that certainly doesn’t help you think.

He promptly covers your mouth with a shush, his sizable metallic hand swallowing up your face as you squeak dully now into his solid palm.

“No yelling now, doll.” He turns your face towards him so he can look at you as he speaks. He glances quickly at the closed bedroom door before looking back at you. “Answer Daddy’s question.” He directs, “I know you’re a smart girl.” he grins at you, and though–in most contexts–that would sound like a compliment, his tone is decidedly condescending as he continues. “But I’ll repeat my question, just in case my silly little girl forgot.” he smiles snidely at you for a brief moment before continuing. “What do you call a house where two Daddies take care of their little girl?” He says the question more slowly this time, eerily calm but just as patronizing as he goes.

You stare at him with wide eyes as he carefully removes his hand from your mouth. He doesn’t have to speak the words as his eyes alone tell you not to yell again. His fingers remain on your face, retaking their previous position of gripping your chin as he looks at you expectantly.

“...home…” you breathe meekly, voice almost cracking as you do, hoping that was the right answer.

“Good girl,” he roughly pats at your cheek with a slightly more authentic smile. “that’s exactly right.” he praises. You then hear some movement coming from the bedroom. Bucky glances that way before speaking to you again with a stern glare in his eye. “Now when Dada comes in here, you won't say any of those silly little thoughts, will you?” he asks presumptuously. You shake your head agreeably, and when Bucky’s head tilts with a clench of his jaw, you answer promptly out loud.

“Yes, Daddy” you quiver. He smiles at you, and as if on cue, Steve emerges from the door. There's a towel around his neck and he ruffles it around his hair before spotting you, his face lighting up when he does.

“Hi there angel,” he beams and leans down to you, instantly taking in the sight in front of him.

Your adorable frame sitting atop his partner's lap. You looked so perfect right there. As if you were the last puzzle piece missing his entire life, now fitting together so seamlessly that it just looks like a painting. A beautiful one. Steve isn’t sure how they went without you before. Your soft face still holds a frayed look. His poor girl. He was hoping a little bit of rest would ease your frazzled little mind.

“You feeling a bit better after your nap?” Steve asks with a loving tone as he carefully picks you up from Bucky’s lap. He situates you so that you are on his hip, one arm supporting your bottom with legs wrapped around his side as he guides your arms around his neck. You fit so nicely around him like this. He almost wishes he could stop time and freeze this moment forever. Being able to hold you like this, he’s never felt so whole, so complete. You feel tense in his arms, but he knows one day…that won’t be the case. You’ll lean fully in, wholly relying on and giving yourself to them both. He’s eager for every moment leading to it and each subsequent instant after.

Steve’s cold and wet hair tickles your arms. Being so close, you can’t help but notice the crisp comforting aroma that emits from his warm skin.

For some reason, you look to Bucky as if he holds the answer to Steve’s question. He just glares at you with a slight scowl that dares you to misbehave before standing up after too long of silence on your part.

“She’s still feeling a bit confused.” Bucky caresses you, palm enveloping the side of your face. “Huh, doll?”

“Awh…” Steve joins in on stroking your face by soothing the back of your head. “well that’s okay angel. Babies get confused so easily.” he says with that underlying patronizing but sweet tone he uses. “Why don’t you let Dada check you, huh?” he asks while looking you up and down. You then feel all blood draining from your face as your eyes go wide, having no idea what he means by that.

You look between him and Bucky frantically as Steve gently grabs one of your hands from behind his neck. You instinctively try pulling away but his grip tightens before you’re able to.

“Now now, don’t be scared,” Steve assures sweetly, a stark contrast to the death grip on your hand. “Dada just needs to look at those pesky little marks we had to leave on you last night,” he explains while unraveling you from him and setting you back down on the couch where he kneels in front of you. Your body trembles in anticipation–for what exactly, doesn’t matter.

You can’t control it as he diligently peels your socks off and rolls your leggings up to look underneath. He takes his time tracing the deformed marks with his fingertips, lifting up your ankles as he goes before making his way to your arms. He tugs on them gently in front of you and repeats his previous examination as if he’s mapping out every little laceration. “You don’t want any more of these…do you, babygirl?” Steve lilts, an ever so slightly threatening tone lacing his otherwise calm voice as he presses his fingers down, digging just harshly enough into where a bruise must be forming and causing you to jolt at the pain.

“Ah!-n-no!” you yelp pitifully quick at the discomfort.

“No…what?” Steve prods with false grace before pressing harder into your skin.

“N-no Dada!…ah!...please.” you shakily breathe the last word with a plea, pathetically pulling on your arms that don’t move an inch under his hold.

“Good girl,” he praises with a mischievous smile, and unclenches his painful grip, but doesn’t let go completely, instead, keeping a firm hold on you.

He steadily lifts your wrists up…to his lips. They ghost your skin as he glints at you with a soft smirk before placing slow…slow kisses along the marked-up lines.

Warm lips meet the welts that are painted all across and up your arms from where you were bound–corporal reminders of what disobeying meant–he trails each one of them, dragging his lips and dousing each inch of burning skin with tender kisses, his grip remaining its powerful hold so you remain immobile.

When he makes his way to your upper arm, you physically resist from full-on screaming. A quick glance to Bucky with your sorrowful eyes reveals no mercy from him. He just glares at you, a deadpan look on his face but a teasing smirk in his eyes that dares you to make a noise.

Steve lifts his head up to face you after planting his last kiss on your upper arm, just a hair's breadth from your face. Your head has already pushed itself back as far as it’ll go as the rest of your body is ensnared by his that hovers atop yours. Thick air surrounds you as your trembles turn to full-on shaking, watching him as his eyes don’t even meet yours. His blown pupils are intensively fixated on your lips now.

They look so soft.

Time itself seems frozen, all except a slow-motion icy droplet that falls from the tips of his hair. It lands atop soft cotton, dampening the fabric on your chest that ripples chills throughout you. He follows it, dark eyes lowering to where sensitive skin is hidden by the dainty onesie Bucky dressed you in earlier. You feel heat taking over the arctic sensation within you as he looks at your body with what you can only prescribe as desire–want.

But to your–very minuscule–relief he looks back up to your eyes, and gives you a quick smile, before leaning back on his knees again in front of you with a satisfied smile adorning his face.

“Might take a while for those to heal up,” he remarks, “but don’t worry, Daddy and I will give them lots of kisses to help them heal.” he smiles at you.

“What do you say, doll?” Bucky speaks up, crossing his arms.

A confused and worried look that causes your eyebrows to furrow comes over your face, unsure of what he wants when you’ve barely gotten your heart to stop pounding from the previous predicament.

Bucky decides–for now–he’ll key you in. Mostly because he doesn’t like seeing his Stevie all upset when you don’t do as you were told.

He mouths a “thank you” with a cock of his head motioning towards Steve below him.

“Th-thank you…D-dada” you squeak, voice uncontrollably shaky.

“Oh, such a good girl. My good little girl,” Steve beams at you before standing up. “Oh…poor thing,” he remarks while looking down at your trembling form. “You must be freezing,” he states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Dada will go get you a sweater. Stay right here,” he instructs before trailing off.

When he comes back, there's more than just an extra garment in his hand.

“Now later you can play upstairs all you want, but right now,” he speaks while setting down a few colorful-looking books and a box of crayons on the coffee table. “Daddy and I need to watch you and make sure you stay safe,” He then motions for you to move your arms up so he can put the sweatshirt he brought for you on. He carefully moves your arms and head through the holes and then leads you to the coffee table. “You can color as long as you like, angel, just make sure to tell us if you need anything, like water…or juice, okay?”

You nod your head complacently at him while he holds your hand looking down at you.

“Okay-I mean-I-yes…Dada” you fumble before kneeling down on the carpet yourself in front of the variety of coloring books.

You don’t want to color. But–genuinely–what choice do you have? You could protest, but it wouldn’t lead anywhere beneficial.

You scan the playful books in front of you, trying to find some solace in the fact that maybe focusing on this would at least mean less nerve-wracking interactions with…them.

It shouldn't matter–which picture you settle on–with your brain still rattled from before, only you can’t help but feel choosy about the drawing you pick. You flip through the books, dog-earing the ones that pique your interest before settling on a foresty scene that depicts two large sleeping wolves and a little rabbit nestled right in the middle.

For some perplexing reason, the crayon box decides it doesn’t want to be opened by your frail fingers. Steve quickly notices your frustrated struggle with it and instructs you to hand it to him so he can open it for you. You groan at the box and mutter something about how you ‘got it.’

You don’t see his eye squint and eyebrow raise as he watches you fumble with it for a moment longer, but you do feel him taking the box from your hands.

“I don’t want you hurting those precious little fingers of yours now,” He smoothly opens the box and hands it back to you with a pet to your head.

At some point, Bucky notices your tired posture and offers you a pillow to sit on before moving the coffee table closer to the couch so you can rest your back on the cushiony sofa. He moves it effortlessly as if the table wouldn’t break your back if you tried to move it.

You mumble an assenting “thank you daddy” to which Bucky responds. “You’re welcome, sweet girl” with a wink and you withhold from sticking your tongue out at him.

Either one or both of them remain in the room with you for the rest of the evening, checking on you every so often. You attempt to keep your attention on remaining within the lines when you color, but you can’t help the way your unnerved hands still shake, causing you–to your annoyance–to occasionally strike outside the lines.

By the time the sun has long set, and the only thing illuminating the paper in front of you is warm artificial light, you find yourself yawning with your head sideways on the table as you color. Whiffs of savory smells dance through your nose as Bucky has been in the kitchen for the last little bit preparing dinner.

“Getting sleepy babygirl?” Steve asks, peering down at you and your drawings. You shrug your shoulders, unsure of which answer would allow you the most leniency.

“Oh, that one is just perfect,” he remarks while bending over and picking up the forest scene you colored first. It was hidden amongst other drawings that you had shuffled to the side. He holds it up and takes a good look at it. “You did such a good job,” he compliments. “I think this one deserves a place on the fridge” he boasts.

You turn your head back and watch in curiosity as he really does make his way to the kitchen and secures it with a little magnet. He stands back and smiles in satisfaction while you go back to coloring, feigning that you never even noticed the proud expression radiating off his body, and positively pretending that your insides didn’t go soft for a brief moment watching him.

Steve and Bucky chatter while setting the table. You try to tunnel in on their voices but you can’t exactly make out what they’re saying as they speak quite lowly to each other.

Steve makes his way to you and takes your hand to guide you to the table. He sets you in the seat furthest away from the door as they both sit rather closely to you–practically trapping you in. You poke at your otherwise appetizing plate as you have little desire to eat with your stomach still turned in tangled knots.

They both encourage you to eat throughout, but you only manage to get a few bites down. Neither of them look particularly happy with you and your full plate. Nevertheless, they stop pushing after a bit and share a knowing look that you can’t make out the meaning of.

You huff a quiet sigh of relief when they take your plate and start cleaning the kitchen, silently feeling as though you won this trivial round of control.

Bucky catches you from the corner of his eye as you take it upon yourself to get out of your chair. He tenses, preparing to snatch you before you can move until he realizes you’re only going to the living room, opposite of where the front door is. He decides to just watch you for a few moments as you go back to coloring with criss-crossed legs.

Innocent little thing. His naive little doll shading away, having not a clue in your pretty little head of how erroneous it was to make your own decisions like that. It really was much too soon for you to truly understand what consequences will come when trying to think for yourself. He can’t exactly blame you though. His poor little baby had to do it for so long before they found you. It’s probably why you’re benignly coloring away with not an idea in your head of what’s really in store for your life here. Such a sweet, sweet little girl they had. All to themselves. Forever now.

He observes how you ferociously analyze and juxtapose the colors before you, even testing them on other miscellaneous paper before choosing the right one for the job.

He already knows you better than you can even comprehend. He knows you’ve likely already thought you’ve gotten away with it.

“What do you think you’re doing little girl?” Bucky’s scolding voice startles you, causing you to jump a little in your spot. After just a second, he roughly yanks you up by your arm, spinning you around to face him as he holds you. “Did Daddy tell you you could leave the table? Hmm? Did Dada?” he fumes, the sudden escalation in action and tone making you want to just cry.

“I-I-” you fumble, squirming uncomfortably below him. “I thought-”

“Oh I don’t think you were thinking anything in that silly little head of yours,” he chastises while pinching one of your cheeks harshly with his free hand. “And did you really think you could get away with not eating?”

“Ah!-” you fight, struggling against him, confused and disoriented on why he’s suddenly being so harsh when you thought you were off the hook.

“Hey-hey, it’s okay,” you hear Steve speaking up behind him. “Let me talk to her Buck,” he says, allowing Bucky to let go of your arm and cheek. You tearfully rub at your hurt cheek while Steve kneels down to your level. “Sweet girl…remember yesterday when daddy gave you apple juice?” he asks, circling his hand behind your ear and gently cupping the cheek that Bucky previously inflicted harshly. You nod smally, glancing away around the room as you recall the unfond memory of being bottle-fed against your will. “Good, then you should know that little girls need their nutrients. And that means no skipping dinner,” he explains with a kind voice that makes you feel as if he's quite literally talking to a child.

“I-okay…Dada” you add, grateful for Steve at least being gracious enough as to not yell at and pinch you like Bucky just was.

“Good girl,” he smiles at you before telling you to sit tight on the couch while he goes to get your dinner. You sit there, a bit perplexed on how he planned on giving you a meal when you’re pretty sure you saw Bucky scrape the remnants of your food into the trashcan.

Steve returns with no plate in hand and sits a bit away from you, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion until you see it.

You watch in horror as he reveals a milky white bottle that he shakes in his hand while speaking to you.

“Come here,” he beckons, patting his spacious thigh. You grimace at the granule liquid that swirls around in the bottle, not unlike the one Bucky used on you yesterday. If you didn't know better–which you don’t–you’d say it quite literally looks like baby formula.

“Uhm…I just…” you trail off, trying to come up with a reason, any reason not to be literally bottle-fed like you were yesterday. “I’m-I’m really not hungry-my-my stomach hurts,” you reason clumsily, but truthfully as well since the only thing filling your stomach right now is queasiness. Most of it coming from your situation, but the grainy texture swirling around in the bottle certainly doesn’t help your appetite either. “And-and I can just eat the other stuff,” you add frantically while looking back to the kitchen and wringing your hands.

“Now this is going to help my sweet girl feel a lot better and sleep real tight,” Steve remarks, completely ignoring your words and requests.

“I-I said I'm not hungry.” you say a bit louder, but with a mild tone as to not sound too combative.

“And I said this will help you sleep,” he asserts while dabbing the tip of the bottle on his wrist. “Now come sit on Dada’s lap,” he demands while patting his thigh again. You shake your head while subtly scooting away from him.

“Mmm-mmm” you hum a no while sliding back even further. “Please, I don’t wan-”

“Did Dada ask what you wanted?” he cuts you off with a cock to his head at you. “No,” he shakes his head, answering his own question patronizingly. “I didn’t. You don’t get to decide what’s good for you. Only Daddy and I know that. Now I won’t ask again. Come here. Now.” he insists sternly. You debate quickly in your head, weighing out your limited options. When you still sit there not moving an inch, Steve sighs and reaches for you. He grabs your arm and pulls you towards him.

“No!” you say in response to the action. He’s not necessarily yanking or being particularly rough, but without thinking, you push back at him, your free hand overshooting and accidentally hitting his shoulder. Of course, it’s like you’ve hit a brick wall, the small action hurting your wrist much more than it likely hurt him at all. But something about it felt…cathartic. And something inside you just…snaps.

You had played nice all day, letting them hold you, touch you, kiss you. Hell–you even sat on the floor for hours and colored while wearing a onesie. And now he wanted to bottle feed you actual formula. You had to draw the line.

You couldn’t give in. The silent promise you made to yourself earlier rings in your head. You weren’t going to drink this stupid bottle.

Steve still has you in his grasp and is pulling you closer to him so that you can be in his lap. Only, you take this opportunity to fight. Hard.

With all the strength you have, you wrench yourself back. Steve quickly encapsulates both your hands, making you feel as though you’ll sooner break your own wrists before you ever successfully free yourself from his grip. You take it upon yourself to switch strategies, maneuvering yourself into a position where you just start kicking at him feverishly. It felt childish. It looked childish. But you didn’t care right now. You weren’t going to play along any longer.

You realize halfway through your nonsensical thrashing fit that Steve is likely just letting you play this out before he decides he’s had enough. He decisively stands up, dragging your combative form with him as he roughly swings you up to throw you over his shoulder. You still fight him, your flailing is joined with nonsensical shrieks as you lash out on him physically and verbally. Steve holds you down atop him firmly while hauling you upstairs. Before you realize it, you’re roughly tossed down into a mattress. The otherwise compliant spread hurts you on impact from the height you fall from. Your swirling vision from being upside down and lack of oxygen in your lungs from screaming leaves you disoriented until your dazed eyes focus on structured parallel bars.

Steve’s thrown you into the very crib he showed you just hours ago.

“That’s just for when you’re feeling extra little,”

You instantly try to stand up only for Steve to effortlessly push you back down, sending you to roughly bounce on your bottom. You clumsily try to regain your balance and breath while Steve reaches for something besides the crib. Before you know it, Steve’s grabbed both your hands and starts heatedly tying them together. Tightly. He ensnares your fingers together and weaves the rope around every inch of your digits up to the middle of your forearm, completely restraining the hands that fought him.

You try getting up again only to find it’s surprisingly hard to move with your hands bound in front of you.

He mutters to you something about ‘not moving’ while making his way to the end of the crib. He abrasively yanks both of your legs down to the edge of the caged mattress and begins tying those together too. You flail hopelessly, hurling unkind words at him while he secures your ankles to the bars, completely immobilizing the legs that were just unabashedly kicking at him.

When you finally catch a glimpse of Steve’s face, his expression is unforgiving. Furrowed eyebrows highlight his intense dark focus as veined arms secure you to the crib.

Steve straightens himself up and towers over you from beside the crib. He just watches you until you decide to give up on fighting, realizing you can’t free yourself from your binds. Your anger slowly turns to just pure sorrow, as you find yourself crying hot tears into your already burning face. You murmur pointless cries asking over and over again to just be let go…

“Angel…” Steve says softly, his features appearing less angered now, but still unhappy nonetheless. “I’m going to give you one more chance,” he kneels down, leveling himself with you from outside your confines. He reaches through the bars and caresses your rope-covered hands. “If you do what Dada says, then I might go easy on your punishment,” he slides his hands up, open-palmed, slowly inching his way to your face. He lingers on your throat for a moment too long before laying his hand across your cheek. “But that’s only if you stop being a bad girl…is that what you want?” he asks patronizingly, with a cock to his head, faux sympathy lining his tone. “You want Dada to treat you like a bad girl?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, heavy tears pitifully falling as Steve watches you. He doesn’t catch them as he awaits your answer that doesn’t come.

He then tries to give you the bottle from before again but you only resist. Shaking your head and crying profusely while mumbling sorrowful nonsense.

Steve sighs, and hangs his head. He doesn’t enjoy seeing you like this. He wants to hear you laugh. The same laugh he heard over anything else the first night he found you. He wants to see you smile. The same way you beamed at him that night he helped you find your way back. He wants to draw you close when you fall asleep next to him. The same way he’s watched you fall asleep all by yourself for months. He wants to replace the teeny little thumb you always stick in your mouth when you think no one is watching with his. He knows you want this. He knows you need this.

But it’s obvious his poor girl just doesn’t understand that yet.

Steve knows babies have a hard time listening when throwing tantrums anyway...

For now, if you won’t listen, he’ll just have to show you.

“My sweet girl…” Steve grabs your face, turning it towards him. “You just won’t learn unless Dada shows you, huh?” he releases your face dismissively and stands up.

“If you want to act out…” he speaks while reaching across the crib above you,

“and think you’re a big girl…” he lifts something weighty that’s attached to the top of the crib,

“that’s fine,” parallel bars intrude your vision of Steve from above you,

“But this is what happens when you act like a bad girl.” Steve’s voice turns more ireful with every word he speaks, as he works his way around the crib, latching multiple locks together that you hadn't noticed before with increasingly aggressive force.

“You get treated like one. Bad girls get left all alone by themselves without Dada. If you really want Dada to let you go. Fine. You’ll stay right here until you understand what it means to listen.” he slams the last latch shut.

You barely have time to process his words while your wobbly vision interprets what’s happening above you. By the time you comprehend that there’s a top to this ‘crib’ that Steve has locked you in, he’s already left the room, truly isolating you.

Anguished sobs that were falling on deaf ears during Steve’s spiel to you now meet the equally deaf silence of the room itself.

The only sound that accompanies you now is your own cries, echoing back pitifully to you from the horizontal bars above…

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stuckysbaby1938 · 8 months

Text

Sick

Daddy!Stucky x fem!little!reader

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Summary: you wake up with a sore throat and your daddies take care of you

Warnings: sick little reader, pet names, references to a punishment, fluff

Notes: this is very short because I am sick so yay for me but I will be posting more hopefully now that I have a break from school, enjoy

Word Count: 481

Steve: dada Bucky: daddy

written on my phone

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

"Wake up pretty girl, it's time for breakfast" Steve rubs your back as he coaxes you out of slumber. You open your eyes only to shut them right away when the thumping of your head was all you could feel or hear.

"Cmon, let me see those pretty eyes" you slowly open your eyes. "Hi princess" he smiles. You whine as feel the scratchy ache in your throat but he takes it as you not wanting to get up. "Oh baby I know, but I let you sleep late. It's time to get up now." He picks you up and carries you downstairs where Bucky is cooking.

"Good morning doll." Bucky kissed your cheek before continuing cooking. "Someone didn't wanna get out of bed this morning." Steve sat you down at the table and got you some milk. "Still sleepy baby?" Bucky placed a plate of pancakes in front of you. You push the plate away, not wanting to hurt your throat more.

"No ma'am, eat your breakfast." Steve pushes the plate back in front of you. You whine and push it away again. "Do we need to have a little talk about manners?" he raises his eyes expectingly. "Steve calm down, she's sleepy." Bucky pulls your chair closer to his. "I need to try and eat your breakfast baby. It's pancakes, you love pancakes." He reasons. You shake your head. "Why not baby?" You pint to your throat. "What?" You whine again.

"Does your throat hurt angel?" Steve asks and you nod. "Can you stick out your tongue baby?" You do as Bucky asks and stick out your tongue for him to see the strawberry color. Bucky sighs and looks at Steve. "We should call Bruce." Steve nods and goes to make the call. "And you get go back to bed sweet girl." He picks you up and takes you to his and Steve's room. He lays you down in the bed and covers you up. "You wanna watch a movie?" You nod and he turns on The Lorax.

A few minutes later Bruce comes up and confirms that you have strep. Steve and Bucky do everything in their power to make you comfortable. Steve even makes you homemade chicken noodle soup. They spend the rest of the day cuddling with you and making you feel better.

"Get some rest love. We'll be right here." Steve kisses your forehead.

"We love you doll." Bucky kisses your cheek before you fall asleep in their arms.

#bucky barnes #mcu fic #steve rogers #stucky x reader #stucky x little!reader #agere little #sick little

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buckys-little-belle · 2 years

Text

Mafia Au (Part One)

Origin Story

Stucky x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns Used)

Mafia Au Guidebook - Here (I recommend reading this first)

Warnings - Very vague mentions of mafia dealings, someone is told “you should stop talking if you hope to keep your life” and that’s as violent as it will get, reader is technically Brock Rumlows sibling, I totally recognize we don’t all looks like him, talk like him, or are anything like him, please know there is no dictations as of “biological, half, step, or adopted” sibling, and you can easily view yourself as any type of sibling! This part of the story takes place during dinner, people eat food, food is mentioned, reader has a tough home life with Brock, but it’s not at all described in detail, talks of loneliness and feeling left out. (3100 ish words)

Notes - I hate how this came out, but at this point I have rewritten it way to many times to stat again, so I just hope it’s good enough <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and with this blog, SFW.

The dining room, to Y/n, felt too big, too extravagant, and elegant to be located in someone’s house. The room was large, the walls white with elegant moulding, the floors covered in black hardwood. In the middle of the room stood a large rectangular table, the black wood seemingly matching the floors, the chairs covered in a contrasting white fabric and each spot at the table had a white plate, gold cutlery, and a beautiful blue and gold placemat.

The owners of the house, the Odinsons, made sure to fill the room, their home, with odes to their heritage, paintings, statues, pottery, and the placemats, all artifacts from, and things based on, Asgardian culture. The small details helped make the room feel welcoming, the bare bones were modern and cold, but the details showed that the room had character.

The house that Y/n was standing in was much different to their own. The large mansion an extreme opposite to their small apartment in the Bronx, Y/n’s apartment could easily fit into the singular dining room at least one time, maybe even two. A rundown studio apartment had no upper hand on a grand home like this one, sure each had historical aspects, but the Odinsons had marble tiles, stairways, and wallpaper from eras past, all having been taken care of and in great shape. Y/n had a bathtub from the early 1900s that was falling apart, and old carpet flooring from the 70s.

The mansion could be compared to her brothers, Brock had a large, more modern, mansion just a few blocks away, the landscape just as beautiful, and the art just as expensive. Y/n knew what luxury was, they just were forbidden to live in it.

Brock kept Y/n at an arm's length, close enough to be shown off at parties, helping him show a united family front, but far enough that no one would know his secret. Brock had prided himself on his ability to run a Mafia Family of just Caregivers, not a Little in sight. He wanted to assert dominance by following past tradition, keeping Littles off to the side, out of the business aspects of this job.

But he needed to keep his sibling close, family meant everything to the other Mafia families, he couldn’t cast his sibling away without valid reasoning, his only reason being they didn’t fit his end goal, which would never been seen as reasonable. So he kept their label a secret, keeping them silent at dinners, meetings, any outing with him, making sure they lived somewhere else so no one would catch them regressing.

So Y/n was stuck in their small apartment, left alone to long for the large dining rooms, bathrooms that didn’t have leaky windows, and a ‘family’ that accepted them for who they really were. For the first few years, when Brock was still the right hand man of the Hydra Family over in California, Y/n thought that this was how all little’s were treated, only to be faced with the harsh reality that life could be so much better.

Here in New York littles were allowed in the Families ranks, they were allowed to be a part of big decisions, they were truly accepted by those around them. This group made sure littles got different meals, chicken nuggets, pasta, and more, if they wanted it, they still got to sit at the Caregiver table when little, they could thrive.

Part of Y/n wished to go back, go back to the days where they never knew that life could be better, the days where they were content with being paraded around others silently, being thrown away when they weren’t needed. Go back to the days that they didn’t long for more, but for now they would be stuck here, sat in the beautiful dining room, filled with sorrow, pushing around the weird food on their plate, longing for some pasta.

“Eat your food.” Brock seethed from beside them, a smile on his face as vile words were spat out quietly.

“What ‘s it?” Y/n whispered, the small circles a confusing dish.

“It’s Escargot.” Brock answered, taking a large sip of his drink, most likely an alcoholic one, one that would make him more irritable throughout the night. “Just eat it.”

Y/n swallowed hard, their eyes fixed on the plate, their stomach sinking at the idea of eating baby snail eggs. “I don’t think ‘m hungry.” They whispered to their brother, a pleading look on their face, silently begging for some mercy.

Brock sighed, standing up and fixing his jacket as he harshly whispered. “I’m going to the bathroom, if you don’t eat at least half of your food you’ll loose Tv privileges for a month.” His threat wasn’t empty, it was one he had acted on many times, one he dished out unfairly.

Y/n looked at the plate debating if it was worth it, the new Octonauts episodes were due to come out next week, something they didn’t want to lose, but at the same time they didn’t know if they would be able to swallow the food regardless of the impending punishment’s intensity.

Before they could scoop up a spoonful, someone interpreted them. “Y/n?” A man’s voice asked, Y/n looking up, their gaze now focused on a tall brunette, his hair pulled back in a low bun, a soft smile gracing his lips. “I’m Bucky.” He said, sitting where Brock was just seated. “Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

Y/n’s eyes were wide, confused as to why someone was paying attention to them. “Um.” Y/n’s eyes drifting to the entryway of the dining room, when there was no evidence that Brock was entering they answered shyly. “Sure.”

Bucky pulled out a small pad of paper from his suit jacket, words scribbled across the paper. “Do you live with your brother?” He asked, his eyes flipping from the paper to Y/n.

“No.” They answered quickly, a quick rush of fear flooding through them when they realized they answered wrong. “I, I mean yes, we live in a mansion.” Their answer was slightly choppy, too focused on making sure the words were clear and not mumbled to be focused on the flow of the sentence.

“Okay.” Bucky doubted, shaking his head slightly. “Can you tell me what colour the mansion is?” He prodded.

“Oh.” Y/n paused, trying to remember what colour Brock had talked about painting the house, but was that inside? Their mind running in circles as they tried to remember as best they could. “ ‘s it black?” They questioned, hoping they got the right answer, as if they were being tested and graded.

“You were close.” Bucky chuckled, sighing as he read the next question. “If you could have anything, anything in the world, what would you want?”

‘A canopy bed.’ They said in their head, the bed being something they’ve wanted for years. “World peace.”

“You don’t have to lie.” Bucky pressed, his eyes genuine.

“I can’t say.” Y/n said, a frown on their face, tears threatening to spill.

“Can’t? Or not allowed to?” Bucky asked.

Y/n just sat still, their hand reaching for their once discarded spoon, pushing around the food on their plate. Bucky sighed, placing the pad of paper back into his pocket and standing up, Y/n’s eyes filling with tears, disappointed in themself for making someone mad. What they didn’t know was it had nothing to do with them.

- - - - - -

Brock walked into the room, Y/n quickly wiping the tears from their face, trying to compose themself as best as they could. As Brock approached his seat they waited for his snarky comment on how much food was still on their plate, the joy he would have taking the Tv out of their apartment when they got there. “Brock Rumlow.” A voice laughed, one from the end, the head, of the table, one Y/n hadn’t heard before.

“Is something wrong Mr.Odin?” Brock asked, his voice suddenly cherie, his hands clasping together behind his back.

“We’re about to find out.” A snarky voice called out, the voice belonging to one of the Odinsons Y/n knew to be Loki, the man looking terrifying and yet terrified himself.

“Brock, what colour is your house?” Odin called out, a slight mocking tone on the edge of his voice.

“It’s light grey Sir.” Brock answered quickly.

“Yes it is.” Odin faked contemplation. “So why does your sibling think it’s black?” He questioned.

Brock chuckled lowly. “Y/n struggles with colours Sir. Can’t really trust anything they say.” He laughed, looking around the room, hoping for similar reactions, only to be met with unsatisfied stares.

“I find that hard to believe.” Odin boomed, standing up from his seat, causing the room to grow stiff. “Though, I would understand why they don’t know, seeing as you seem to store them across town.” He remarked.

“Y/n lives with me Sir, I don’t know what intel you're going off, but it’s wrong. They have a bedroom right next to mine.” Brock argued back, his attitude growing restless.

“So what is the ‘$1400’ payment to a ‘Mr.Jones each month?” The man questioned. “He owns a rundown apartment building does he not?” Odin added.

“Well, that’s.” Brock began. “Some of my men stay there.” He confidently said.

“Hm, see I might have been able to believe that if I didn’t have pictures of Y/n leaving and entering the building almost everyday.”

Y/n shrunk into their seat, not ready for the wrath that Brock would undoubtedly lash onto them, one of his rules being ‘Don’t leave the apartment under any circumstances.’. “Oh you little -“ Brock shouted, his furious gaze cast on Y/n.

“I suggest you don’t finish that sentence if you want to leave here with your life.” Odin said, two large bodyguards immediately grabbing Brock by each arm, dragging him to stand at the other head of the table, now on display for everyone to clearly see. “Y/n stops at a toy store everyday, standing outside and looking at what they have on display. I don’t think that can be easily explained, hm?” Odin added, Brock just looking back with wildly angry eyes. “And then they go to a Cafe, take out a stuffed animal, and drink a cup of hot chocolate.” Odin continued, Brock growing more restless the more the leader talked. “We have come to the conclusion to have you removed, you left a little to their own devices, lied about it, many, many times, and you treated them as if they mean nothing to you, your own sibling.” Odin scoffed, pure disappointment dripping from his words.

“I treat them the way they should be treated.” Brock seethed. “They are mine, I can do with them as I please.”

“Actually you can’t.” Loki interjected, Brock immediately taken aback in confusion. “You signed a contract, I have it here actually.” He beamed, standing up from his seat and walking to the other end of the table. “I, Brock Rumlow.” Loki mimicked the man's voice. “Declare that I will treat any little in my care with respect and human decency, I will provide them with a safe and stimulating environment, I will make sure their needs are taken care of, blah blah blah, it just goes on to list more things you didn’t do.” He noted.

“Brock your territory will be given to the Romanov Family, Y/n will be placed in the care of someone who will provide it, and you will be banned from New York.” Odin listed. “Oh and if you are to step into New York again, you will be dealt with accordingly.” He added, finally sitting back down in his seat.

“That’s unfair! You can’t do this to me! Y/n is mine! I will come back, I will!” Brock’s shouts could be heard as he was pulled from the room and dragged through the hallways, chuckles and murmured conversations heard through the dining room.

“Y/n?” Odin asked, his voice much softer now, the room coming to a silence when they heard him speak. “We have paired you with Steve and Bucky, the leaders of the Barnes-Rogers family.” He began. “They have agreed to take you in, and are eager to get to know you. Steve is actually the reason you are finally free from your brother's grasp, he started the investigation.” Odin proudly beamed, his favourite family once again proving why they are his favourite.

Y/n just sat still, unsure of what to do, sad that they may never see their apartment again, a few stuffed animals that they would love to have, but excited for what this newfound freedom may lead to. They nodded their head in agreement. “With that done, let’s get back to dinner!” Odin cheered, the room laughing and smiling in response.

Y/n’s eyes searched the room, looking for the only familiar person, Bucky, their gaze finally landing on the Barnes-Rogers Family, a few of them sitting at the end of the table, where Brock once stood on display. Two boys were already looking at Y/n, waving their hands in a ‘come over’ gesture, Y/n slowly standing up and walking over.

“Hi! I’m Peter, and this is my best friend Ned, he’s our guy in the chair. I’m ‘the spider’, you need information? I can get it, you need someone sneaky! That’s me!” Peter ranted, pointing to the boy next to him, as well as making dramatic gestures with his hands.

“I see you’ve met Peter.” An unfamiliar voice laughed, Y/n turning to see a man with blonde hair smiling, his height similar to Bucky’s and his demeanour just a serious. “Here.” He said, pulling out a chair, that sat across from Peter, for Y/n to sit in. “I’m Steve, Bucky is just getting you some food he’ll be right back.” Steve smiled, answering Y/n’s unsaid questions, them nodding their head in approval.

“So what do you do? Are you sneaky too? Or really smart? What can you bring to the team? We could be sidekicks!” Peter started.

“The Spider, The Egg and The Guy in the Chair.” Ned added, him and Peter breaking out in laughter right after. “The name could use some work.” The two of them entering their own conversation.

“Hi Dove.” Bucky called out, sitting in between Steve and Y/n, placing a plate down in front of them. “I got you a bit of everything, this way we can know which one you want for next time.” He smiled, looking to Steve with excitement. Y/n just nodding at his words.

“Manners Dove.” Steve said, some food on his fork as he looked to Y/n.

Y/n’s eyes filled with tears, nodding their head, trying to get any words out of their mouth, but failing to do so. “What’s wrong?” Bucky immediately asked, his hand settling on Y/n’s back to comfort them as best he could.

“I.” They stuttered. “I din’, I din’ know I could talk.” They cried, confused as to why they were mad that Y/n wasn’t talking, something they were told not to do, something they weren’t allowed to do. “I, please don’ be mad, ‘m so sorry.” Tears continued to flow down their cheeks.

Steve stood up angrily, throwing his napkin to the table and storming out of the room. “Steve.” Bucky called after him, his hand now rubbing circles into Y/n’s back.

“ ‘m sorry, ‘m thankful, ‘m so thankful, I love the pasta I do.” Y/n cried, trying to show how grateful they were, and how sorry they were for not using their manners.

“We know Dove.” Bucky soothed. “He isn’t mad at you, he’s just mad because it took so long for Odin to do anything about your situation.” He explained. “He just needs some fresh air.”

Y/n nodded, their hands wiping away their tears as best they could, a few new ones falling as they turned back towards their plate, picking up their fork to begin eating. “Boy’s, I think we are going to go, Ned, can you make sure Odin gets the right files please?” Bucky asked, both boys nodding in agreement immediately. “Peter, could you go grab me a container from the kitchen for this food?” Peter didn’t even answer, just springing into action.

“Did you bring anything with you that we should grab?” Bucky asked Y/n, being met with a head shake ‘no’.

Bucky put Y/n’s food into the container, standing up and saying a few goodbyes before walking back to Y/n. “Ready to go Little Dove?” He asked, his hand held out as an invitation.

“Mhm.” Y/n murmured, standing up and waving to the boys, holding onto Bucky’s hand as he led them out of the room and down and out the front entrance.

“Steve?” Bucky called, not able to see where he was standing.

“Yah.” He called back, walking out from behind a wall. “Sorry I just needed-”

“I know.” Bucky sighed, Y/n still holding his hand as the three of them waited for their car.

“ ‘m sorry Steve.” Y/n blurted out. “I shoulda said thank you.” They mumbled, squeezing Bucky’s hand slightly.

“You have nothing to be sorry for Dove.” Steve responded. “I’m sorry for walking out like that.” He said, crouching down to his knees and grabbing Y/n’s other hand.

“ ‘s okay.” Y/n weakly smiled, trying to be as genuine as possible, their smile not meeting their eyes, Steve standing up, still holding onto Y/n’s hand.

The three of them stood together, waiting for the car, ready to go ‘home’, wherever that was. “A canopy bed.” Y/n said.

“A what?” Steve chuckled.

“Bucky as’d me what I would wish for, I wish for a canopy bed.” Y/n said matter of factly. Bucky and Steve both began laughing. “ ‘s that a bad answer?” Y/n asked, only to be met with soft coos.

“No, no Dove, it’s a perfect wish.” Bucky answered. “It’s just funny because we bought you a canopy bed already.” He laughed.

“It even has curtains.” Steve added enthusiastically.

“Oh.” Y/n breathed, even more excited to go ‘home’. Though they would miss their stuffed animals, a canopy bed seemed like a fair trade, they tried to reason. “ ‘m gonna miss my stuffies.” They blurted, the thought too much to keep in.

“Our friend Sam stopped by your apartment during dinner, all your stuffies are sitting on your bed, safe and sound, as we speak Dove.” Steve stated, squeezing Y/n’s hand slightly to reassure them.

Maybe everything was going to be okay, only time could tell.

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