Latest Posts by queen-honeybee-stories - Page 2

Not So Bad

Summary: It's Bucky's birthday, but doesn't want to make a big deal out of it.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Language. None, really just fluff. No mentions of Y/N.

Word Count: 1K

A/N: He's my second story for today. Happy birthday, Bucky! Thanks to @ordelixx for the idea and @mrsbuckybarnes1917 for read proofing it.

Masterlist

Ever since he’s rejoined society and gained the closest thing he can have to a normal life, being a supersoldier and all, there’s one thing that Bucky can’t bring himself to do: celebrate his birthday.

The more memories he regains, the more he remembers a time where he used to celebrate his birthday with his family and his friends.

Sure, they didn’t have much, but he had his mom and his sister and Steve. It was a simpler yet happier time, and he now all he feels is gloomy.

So every year he treats it like any other day. He trains and goes on missions if he has to, and if he’s in the compound he chills with a book or maybe takes a motorcycle ride, never once even making it known to the rest of the team that it’s his birthday.

“Seriously, Buck? That’s how you’re gonna spend your whole day?” Steve asks Bucky as they walk down the hallway towards their rooms.

“Yes, seriously.” Bucky answers with a roll of his eyes. Every year Steve tries to get Bucky to do something more to celebrate his birthday, but Bucky never budges. “You know damn well what I think about my birthday.”

Steve groans and stops walking, causing Bucky to stop too, and tries one last time before leaving Bucky to his sulking. “I know, but come on! Let’s at least do something together, let’s celebrate your birthday like we used to, go to Coney Island or something. Don’t spend the day alone!”

“We spend everyday together, Rogers. Sometimes it’s nice to get a break.” Bucky jokes with a smirk before he starts walking again and leaves Steve to chuckle and roll his eyes before he walks to his own room.

What neither of the supersoldiers realized is that they had stopped right in front of your room to talk, just as you were about to walk out. You stopped in your tracks and listened to their conversation.

It’s Bucky’s birthday? How did you not know that? Sure it’s not like you’re the best of friends, but you’re still pretty close. You should’ve known that.

So you decide to do something nice for him today while still respecting his wishes of having a low-key day. You take your purse and jacket and head to the garage, getting into your car and driving towards the city.

Truth is, you’ve always had a crush on the Sergeant. It was hard not to when he looked the way he did, and he was as sweet as Bucky was. 

As intimidating as he might look, you knew how shy he could be. He got flustered easily when he got a compliment, and you found him so adorable when he started blushing and stuttering.

You go to the bookstore you know Bucky loves to browse when he is in the city, it’s a small store that’s filled with second hand books. Bucky always said that he loved to give books a second chance, just like he got one after Hydra. 

You look through the books until you find the perfect one: Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck. The team saw the movie together when it was Steve’s turn to pick, and as you sat next to Bucky you heard him quietly tell Steve about the details they remembered from reading the book in the 30s. 

You go to Bucky’s favorite bakery next and buy two dozen of his favorite cupcakes, and when you see that they sell different colors you have to buy a gold and black one.

You drive back to the compound and, after dropping the rest of the cupcakes in the kitchen for the team, you take one, putting the candle on top of it and taking a lighter. You go to Bucky’s room, cupcake in one hand and gift bag in the other, and knock on his door. 

“Come in.” Bucky says from inside, thinking it’s Steve coming to bother him again.

You open the door slightly and look inside, seeing him sitting on his bed with his back against the headboard and a book in his hands.

“Am I bothering you?” You ask hesitantly.

“N-no, you’re not. Come in.” Bucky says quickly, closing his book and sitting up more.

You open the door completely and enter his room, taking a couple of steps towards him before stopping. “I… I got you something.”

Bucky’s eyes widen a little as he sees the cupcake and the gift bag you’re holding out to him.

“Did Steve tell you?” His eyes narrow a little, and you squirm a little under his gaze and shake your head.

“I overheard you talking about it…” You say quietly, a little embarrassed. “I get that you don’t want a party or anything, but I thought… I don’t know, I just wanted to do something nice for you on your birthday…”

You start to second guess yourself as he just looks at you and, just as you’re about to backtrack on your stupid idea and leave him alone, he smiles brightly at you, sitting on the edge of his bed and patting the spot next to him.

You sit next to him and you put the bag on his bed so you can light the candle and hold the cupcake out to him with a smile. “Make a wish.”

Bucky thinks about it for a second. He knows what he wants to wish for, the thing is he already got his wish: you in his room, sitting with him on his bed. But he makes his wish anyway before blowing out the candle. He wished for you to be his.

You smile at each other for a moment before you snap yourself out of it, shaking your head a little and picking up his present and giving it to him.

He puts the cupcake on his nightstand as he takes the bag and opens it and you can see his face light up when he sees it as he runs his fingers down the cover before looking at you with a smile. “Thank you, doll.”

You smile back at him and lean in to kiss his cheek. “Happy birthday, Bucky.” You say before getting up and leaving, letting him have his peaceful day of relaxation. 

Bucky watches you go with a slight blush, his hand over his cheek where you kissed it and a goofy smile on his face.

Perhaps celebrating his birthday is not such a bad thing after all.

Home

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Rating: T Words: 564 Content: 2nd person, fluff, a tiny dash of angst, cuddles Summary: Steve returns from a long, unsuccessful mission searching for Bucky.

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It had been another months-long chase of whispers and rumours but, like every time before, Steve returned empty handed.

No solid proof of Bucky, no glimpses, no certainty that the chatter was ever true, or if Bucky was even still out there.

You knew Steve was coming back today but the sky had turned black and inky by the time he entered your rooms. He toed off his boots and socks at the entranceway and it hurt to watch those broad shoulders slump in defeat, in remorse.

“Hey,” you greeted softly.

“Hey,” Steve whispered back, forcing a smile to his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We didn’t…”

“I know.” How could you not? You took his hands and wrapped his arms around your waist, coaxing his head down onto your shoulder. “I know,” you repeated, running your hand through his hair and down to the base of his neck.

He squeezed you in response. A silent thank you communicated in a simple movement.

You pressed a kiss to his temple and just swayed gently as he breathed you in, as he grounded himself in being home. You felt him breathe deeply, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your neck that made you shudder, but you didn’t push it. “Go take a shower, Steve, it’ll help you relax, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled back, planting a kiss on your cheek and leaving, with a final squeeze, for the bathroom.

You were settled in bed in your comfiest pyjamas when he came through in a pair of sweats, hair dry and fluffy from the hair dryer.

You pulled him down on top of you, hushing his grumbling about his weight and height as you all but dragged him into you.

You tucked his head under your chin, placing a kiss on his temple before your fingers rhythmically slid through his hair.

Steve held himself stiff, not wanting to totally let go of himself, but your touches slowly coaxed him closer to relaxation and to giving in to you.

“You always look after us, let me look after you, for once. It would make me feel better.” It’s the final nail in the coffin of Steve’s stubbornness and you find yourself finally pinned by his weight.

It wasn’t crushing, he felt a lot like a very warm, weighted blanket and if you hadn’t been so focused on Steve you could have probably fallen asleep like that. But you kept up the gentle touches, every so often pressing soft kisses to his forehead.

“I just…” Steve sighed heavily. “I don’t even know if he’s ok.” His words remained quiet and forlorn. You dropped a hand to his shoulders, rubbing in slow, soft circles.

You nodded, nuzzling into his hair. “I think it’s more likely we’d hear if he wasn’t.” It was a lot easier to identify a dead man than a live one. “You’ll find him when he’s ready.”

He sighed again but you felt the corner of his mouth twitch. “S’what I get for making Buck come to my rescue all the time.”

You chuckled and ruffled his hair softly. “Karma’s a bitch, Stevie.”

He huffed a laugh and pressed a kiss where his head lay. “I missed you,” he added in a whisper.

“I missed you too. Welcome home, love.”

Steve hummed, eyelashes settling against his cheeks as he breathed out slowly. “Thanks, doll.”

Found this on pinterest and I just couldn't share it with anyone yet I wanted to share it so here I am posting it on tumblr.

imagine that every time Nat sees Steve in civvies, she nods approvingly, frames his pecs with her hands and says “Specimen”. imagine Steve almost cracking up every fucking time she does it but pointedly refusing to explain the joke to anyone, no matter how much they whine 

This Town | Oslo

🤨

Steve Rogers + side profile 

↳ for @captainevans

Happiness Will Come To You.

TYLER HOECHLIN as Glen McReynolds in EVERYBODY WANTS SOME!! (2016)

Tyler Hoechlin | amfAR Gala Cannes 2023

TYLER HOECHLIN as Clark Kent Superman & Lois (2021) Season 2 Episode 6: “Tried and True”

Emergency Contact

(Steve Rogers x Reader)

All fluff

Word count: 3,081

Summary: After three years together, you finally experience the joy of being Steve’s emergency contact.

Warnings: Mentions of injury, guns, illness, and medicine. Loopy Steve! My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked.Minors DNI.

AN: I love writing Steve fluff, and honestly, I think the world needs more of it!!!! All mistakes are my own, hope you love it! <3

Steve Rogers was a man of many traits, but needy and attention seeking was definitely nowhere on that list. Well, at least that was the case for most of his life.

The Avengers loved teasing him for the way his striking authority and stubborn independence completely crumbled away into a pile of dust the moment you walked into the room. Just the sight of you relaxed his stiff posture and brought a permanent grin to his otherwise expressionless face.

Sure, off duty Steve was all laughs and smiles. Any time he spent with the team that didn't involve boring meetings or adrenaline pumping athletics, his personality was larger than life. But for some reason, you pulled it out of him even when he tried his hardest to stay neutral.

He never accepted help or allowed others to love him the same way he helped and loved everyone around him, unless it was you.

Which made you the very obvious first choice as his emergency contact, and you had been since two months into your relationship with the Captain. It wasn't even something that was discussed or you were informed of. It was an executive decision made by Tony the moment he realized you were pretty much the only person qualified to be there.

Now here you were three years later. Still americas sweetheart, and still the perfect emergency contact. Three years of waiting for an emergency call that never came, well, that was until it did.

Steve, the selfless and heroic bastard he was, snuck onto enemy lines and over a blockade to free over two-hundred hostages.

Did he free them? Yes.

Did he get shot in the head? Yes.

Did it only get worse from there? Yes.

Luckily for him, his helmet bared most of the burden. It did it's job exactly as intended, stopping the bullet and protecting his precious skull and even more precious brain. But after years of wear and bravery it's life came to an end as it inevitably cracked in half.

That resulted in a gnarly concussion after Steve was thrown off a five story building just moments after the helmet met its fate. The doctor explained to you that because the concussion was combined with pretty routine injuries, the serum could only do so much for Steve and that he was temporarily immunocompromised.

Steve sat patiently on the edge of a gurney while you listened to the doctor tell you all about how to take care of him. Your eyes occasionally drifted over to your human golden retriever and you almost wanted to slap him across his perfect concussed head.

He held an ice pack to the back of his head with a proudly smug expression on his face. His suit was tattered and torn, and you could see dark red stains of tacky pooled blood. His arms were scraped and he had deeply pronounced cuts on his temple, lips and nose. Your personal favorite part was that he could barely keep his eyes open, yet after they would slowly close, he would rip them open and blink a few times just to get his vision to focus on you.

After you and the doctor debriefed, you waited until he left the room to address Steve.

"You exhaust me, you big dumb idiot" You quietly scolded him after the door softly clicked into it's closed position. "I've been worried sick about you since I got the phone call almost two hours ago and you're sitting here smiling?!"

"You're so pretty" Hir smile stretched wider as you pulled him into a tight hug. "I missed you"

"I missed you too" You sighed into his hair. It was odd having his head below yours for once, but him sitting and you standing allowed for the unique experience.

Steve could tell that you really had been worried about him. You were practically melting into his arms, holding onto him so tight he thought that maybe he had actually died and came back to life. Even though your tight hold strained every screaming ache in his body, he held back winces and groans to allow you the comfort you needed.

"Please don't scare me like that ever again" Your sternness had quickly turned into worry and sympathy.

"'M sorry, darling. I didn't mean to" Steve slowly rubbed your back in attempts to appease your distress. "You know I'd never do anything that would keep me from coming home to you."

"You almost didn't" She denied his statement. "You were shot in the head and thrown off a building. That doesn't sound like something that would happen to someone just trying to go home"

"That's a normal Tuesday for me" He stated like it was a matter of fact.

"I hate Tuesdays" He could hear the pout in your voice before you pulled away and cradled his cheeks in your hands. "Are you okay?"

"I will be" He reassured you, but the pained expression on his face and the dulled blue in his droopy eyes told you that he definitely wasn't feeling good.

"I'm so happy you're home" You told him, but it came out in a broken whisper that allowed Steve to understand what you were really trying to say.

I'm so happy you made it home alive.

"Thank you for coming to get me" sincerity was laced into every word he spoke.

"Let's get you cleaned up and in bed" She grinned. "Doctor said you're on mandatory bed rest for three days. Are you going to listen, or did the fall make your hard head go soft?"

"I'm pretty sure my brain is a pile of mush right now, maybe three days would do me good" Steve pressed a gentle kiss to your lips.

Beyond your wildest expectations, your stubborn hard headed boyfriend actually did listen. He spent three whole days sleeping away in your shared bed, or the living room couch in the compound. It was almost concerning to everyone who passed by to see him so deeply asleep and almost lifeless.

Amongst the words those would use to describe Steve, restless and active were very high up. But now those were tossed out of the window and replaced with needy.

By day four he wouldn't even let you out of his sight, but you didn't really want to leave him either. He spent hours curled up in a little ball with a pained scrunched up face.

His head was pounding, his muscles were sore, and more recently he found himself with a scratchy throat and blocked sinuses.

Having not been sick since the 40's, he was out of practice and strength to deal with it. The whole team accused him of having the 'man flu', exaggerating his symptoms to keep you close. Fake coughing and sneezing for a few extra back rubs, because really, how on earth could a super soldier get sick?

But they all didn't see him how you did. It was really out of the ordinary for him to make himself seem so small. They weren't the ones wrapping his shivering body in heated blankets, massaging his sore lower back, or playing with his hair just to get him to release any sort of misery to lull him to sleep.

Not only was he sick, but you could tell he was dealing with stirred up past trauma. He spent practically his whole life up until the war being unwell, struggling to breath with a body so nimble and weak it felt like it could give out at any moment.

So that's how you ended up here, with two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle using your chest as a pillow while watching Snow White.

Much like you loved to show him stuff he missed while he was in the ice, he loved to show you stuff from his time before the ice. Snow White just happened to be the one Disney film you hadn't seen, and the film that he has fond memories of.

He told you when you first started dating that it came out when he was nineteen years old, and it was the first thing to bring a genuine smile to his face since his mom passed away when he was eighteen. Steve knew with everything in him that she would've loved it.

You were more than happy to lay awake at 2:30am to watch it and play with his hair even if it would make him just the tiniest bit less miserable.

You mindlessly ran your fingers through the short length while he held you tight and snug. He was under so many blankets that you weren't really sure where your bodies started and ended, but you did know that between him and the pile, you were way more than warm. His body was like a furnace, it usually was but this was a whole new extreme.

The medicine he was prescribed was strong enough to tranquilize a horse, but it was a tough match on the super soldier who was desperately trying to stay awake to finish the tale of the seven dwarves. It was equal parts endearing and frustrating that he was fighting off sleep with every ounce of strength he had.

Luckily, this was a battle that he had lost around three in the morning. You waited a few minutes to make sure he was out cold before slipping out from underneath his sweaty body in attempts to take care of yourself too.

You had already accepted the fact that you're sleep schedule was royally fucked up, so you didn't even bat an eye when it came to showering at such an ungodly hour.

The real trouble came when you tried to make yourself a cup of chamomile tea to will yourself to sleep after days in bed with Steve.

Maybe you weren't quite as stealth or quiet as you thought you were being, but there was definitely nothing quiet about the shriek you let out when a warm pair of unsuspecting forearms wrapped around your stomach from behind.

"God, you scared the shit out of me" You complained to your drugged up boyfriend.

He was in nothing but his boxers with a blanket draped around his shoulders. His arms held your back tightly against his front while his head dropped to your shoulder, he wasn't doing much to support his body weight.

"You left me" He complained with the saddest little pout. His sweet voice was raspy and muffled by a very obvious sore throat, it was enough to make you weak in the knees. "Woke up s'sad"

"I'm sorry, baby." You used your free hand to grab his forearm and draw hearts into his skin with your thumb.

"Thassokay, so happy now" He was obviously in a cold medicine induced loopy state. "Needed to see my beautiful girl"

"I think you need some good sleep" you suggested, trying your hardest to finish up so you could get him back in bed.

"No more sleep. I wanna do whatever you're doing" Steve sniffled into your neck before placing tiny kisses along your shoulder. "I haven't seen you in like two weeks"

"Honey, I've been with you for four whole days" You smiled at his drugged thoughts.

"I haven't seen you in six yearssss" he slurred.

"We only met three years ago" a giggle slipped past your lips.

"Nooooo. It's been at least 10. I've known you since two life times ago. Promise" He placed a kiss on your cheek. "Every second without you feels like a lifetime."

"I'll take your word for it" You brought your mug to your lips and took a long sip.

"Why have you been in bed with me for four years, pretty girl?"

"Days" you corrected. "Because you don't feel good, and I'm trying to make you feel better." You placed your mug down on the counter before turning around so you could face him.

"You've been taking care of me for four whole days?!" He questioned.

His eyelids were heavy and his expression was weary. A pretty shade of pink painted his cheeks and the top of his chapped nose while his hair stuck out in a million different directions. The soft stubble growing along his bold jaw and upper lip was coming in and filling out which was a rarity with Steve. He always kept his face cleanly shaved in attempts to keep up with public image and old fashioned habits.

You couldn't even help but to smile at how cute he was, even drugged out of his mind.

"Mhm" You grinned.

"Wow. Woooooooowwww! I'm ssssoo lucky" He threw his head back with a huge smile, the first time he smiled in days. "You must really love me. Like. A lot."

"I do" You confirmed while trying to fix his hair. "I love you a whole bunch"

"Tomorrow I'm going to go buy you flowers" he stated proudly.

"No you're not" You gently denied. "Tomorrow you have to rest so you feel better, remember?"

"But I have to" He wined with a poked out bottom lip in the most pathetic pout you've ever seen.

"Why do you have to?"

"Because my mother always told me that I have to buy pretty flowers for even prettier girls or else they'll run off. I don't want you to leave me." He explained.

"I'd never leave you" You reassured him, trying to take it as seriously as he was. Your thumbs made their way to the very corners of his pouted lips, and stretched them up into a grin. "I promise, I know you love me. I don't need flowers to know that"

"Really? You promise?"

"I promise" You confirmed with a small nod. "You look like you aren't feeling good, do you want to go back to bed now?"

"I feel fine" He denied. "Don'tcha worry your cute little face about me."

You lifted your hand and pressed your palm against his forehead. "But, honey, you're hot. You're practically burning up"

"Why thank you" He smirked.

"I meant your temperature" You chuckled until you realized that his face fell into another pathetic pout.

"I'm ugly?" He asked sadly.

"What? No- baby you're the handsomest man I've ever seen. All I'm trying to tell you is that you have a fever."

"Oh" He perked up. "Yeah, I really don't feel good" His head dropped back into the crook of your neck. "Should probably go to bed, but I don't wanna"

"Why not?"

"Cause I want cuddles from my pretty princess"

"I can give you cuddles in bed" You tried reasoning with him while drawing shapes into his bare back.

"You smell so good" You could feel his smile against your skin. "And you're so pretty. And warm. It's so cold"

"How about we get under the blankets to warm you up?" You desperately tried reasoning with him.

"I have a blanket right here, see? We're sharing it." Steve readjusted then blanket so it was tighter around the two of you. "Why is your hair wet?"

"I took a shower- washed my hair" You told him with a grin. His lack of self support caused his weight to push your back into the counter while his front leaned into yours.

"Without me? That's so mean"

"You were asleep, I didn't want to wake you up"

"But I'm here now" He proudly stated.

"I'm so happy you're here. But do you know where I want to go?" You asked, hoping you could trick him.

"Where do you wanna go? I'll go aaaaanywhere with you. I can even start up the quinjet if you want" He lifted his head to look at your face again.

"I want to go to bed"

"Awww s'my angel so sleepy?" He questioned sweetly with a higher pitched tone as if you were the tiniest puppy he had ever seen. "Let's get you cozy"

He unraveled himself from his spot then grabbed your hand and brought you back into the bedroom. To your surprise, he got into bed with no complaints.

Without saying a word, the two of you found your spots exactly where you were. Bodies becoming one, tangled into endless blankets, his head on your chest, and his weight pushing you deeper into the plush mattress. You pressed play again on Snow White and Steve pressed a little kiss just below your collar bone as a token of appreciation.

One hand on his smooth back, the other forever tangled into his silky blonde hair.

"Do you feel sick too?" Steve practically whispered after almost ten minutes of silence.

"No, honey, I'm feeling okay"

"Okay, I'm so happy you don't feel like this" He squeezed his eyes closed and nestled his cheek into the cotton of your shirt. "I don't want to feel like this anymore"

The statement brought a genuine pain to your chest. Steve was just too cute to handle, and if you could take every drop of illness out of him and bare it yourself, you would do it in a heartbeat.

"I'm so sorry, Stevie. This is the worst of it, okay? Bruce said you should start feeling better within the next day or two" You sealed the statement with a kiss to the top of his head. "If there's anything I can do to make you feel better just let me know and I'll do it, alright?"

"You're the best emergency contact in the whole world. You're granted this position for the rest of my life" He appointed you.

"I'm glad. It's a privilege to take care of you, I love you."

"I love you too"

Another few moments of silence and calm fell onto the room, and his evened out breathing and relaxed muscles lead you to believe that you had successfully lulled the big friendly giant to sleep. You couldn't even help your brain wandering as you had a chance to unapologetically stare at the creature that was your boyfriend.

He really was so beautiful. A sharp jaw, strong nose, and bold cheekbones all softened by a sweet, lopsided smile, baby blue eyes, and a loyal, timeless personality.

"I'm going to go buy you flowers tomorrow" His voice ripped you out of the trance he had put you in to begin with.

"You're a pain in the butt" you couldn't even help but to laugh, and a smirk formed on his face though his eyes remained closed.

"I have a good butt"

"Go to sleep, Rogers."

Attention

Steve Rogers x GN!Reader

Summary: Steve’s sick and craves your undivided attention, problem is, you’re babysitting the Barton kids.

Request: Anonymous - original request here

Warnings: illness?, just a very needy Steve

Word count: 1.0k

A/N: I only got this request a couple days ago, but I felt very inspired. Enjoy needy Steve

Dividers by @maysdigitalarts

Masterlist | Ask me anything | Library

“Baby, you need to stay in here. We can’t risk you getting the kids sick.” You implored Steve, who was currently wrapped in not one, but two blankets.

A week ago you promised Clint and Laura you would babysit the kids, so they could go out on a long awaited date, their first since little Nate came along. You were excited at the prospect, that was, until Steve had fallen ill and left the responsibility of minding three young children, including a three month old, solely to you.

“But I wanna cuddle.” He complained, his throat gravelly and hoarse with illness, but still managing to sound adorable with a blocked nose.

“And get me sick too? Not a chance. Clint and Laura won’t be back for at least a few more hours, and one of us has to be healthy enough to care for Nate.” Your heart sank as he looked at you with puppy dog eyes. He knew his baby blues were your weakness. “Sweetheart, I have to take care of the kids.” You reiterated, even though you wanted nothing more than to take care of your precious boyfriend.

“Babyyyy.” He whined in a high pitched voice, one which you knew was reserved for days that he was extra clingy, where all he wanted was to tangle himself with you and not let you go for hours - you mostly heard it when he returned from gruelling missions and your touch was a necessity in fully bringing his mind back home.

“Get some sleep darling, I’ll check on you soon - I promise.” You blew him a kiss from a safe distance, waiting for him to get into bed before turning out the light and closing the door.

Part of you initially thought he might be faking - children seemed to make him a little nervous, he claimed he hadn’t been around many kids and wasn’t sure how to act. It was slightly ironic, Captain America could fight off an alien invasion and an army of genocidal robots, but three kids under the age of ten were going to be Steve Rogers’ undoing. But when you saw him huddled over the toilet that morning, puking up the previous night's dinner, you were positive he was genuinely sick.

You had fun with the kids while Steve remained in your bedroom, board games and pizza were definite highlights. But throughout the entire night, part of your mind was distracted from the fun, concerned with Steve’s welfare. Was he feeling better? Was he getting any sleep? Was his fever getting too high?

Once you laid Nate down to sleep and Lila and Cooper were preoccupied, happily watching Shrek, you poked your head into your bedroom to see how Steve was holding up.

“Honey, how are you feeling?” You asked quietly, fearful of waking him if he had managed to get some shut eye.

“I’m jealous.” He sulked and even though the room was dark, you could feel the frown on his features. This was not the answer you were expecting - you anticipated he might feel nauseous, or chilly if his fever spiked, perhaps he was hungry from not eating all day and wanted chicken noodle soup, but jealous?

“Stevie, jealous?” You sat on the edge of the bed, using the back of your hand to feel the temperature of his forehead. He was burning up.

“‘Cause you’re out there with them instead of in here with me.” He pouted as if he were a five year old who you had just refused to feed ice cream for breakfast. He quickly grabbed your wrist before you had the chance to pull away, holding you hostage in your own bedroom.

“Honey, you’re an adult - I know you're not feeling well, but they’re kids, they need me to look after them.”

“I do too.” You sympathised, when you felt ill all you wanted was to be doted on by your loving boyfriend, and right now you weren’t able to reciprocate that love and attention.

“Alright, so you’re telling me you want me to let a three month old baby fend for himself while I take care of you?” You questioned satirically, smiling softly as you brushed the sweat covered hair from his forehead with the hand he didn’t have in a vice-like grip.

“Yes.” He said, although it sounded more like a question.

“Clint and Laura aren’t too far away, then you can have me all to yourself.” You mentioned, leaning down and placing a soft kiss to his warm forehead.

“Promise?” Steve asked, bottom lip pushed out in a sulky pout. How could you resist that face?

“Pinky promise.” You said, locking your pinky finger with his, knowing it would be the only way to get him to release his hold on you.

It was only another hour before Clint and Laura arrived to pick up the kids, who smiled tiredly, mumbling ‘thank you’s’ as they shuffled out the front door of your apartment, Nate sleeping peacefully in his carrier. As soon as the door shut behind them, you made your way into your bedroom.

“‘C’mere.” You whispered, climbing into bed beside Steve. He was covered in so many blankets it was difficult to determine where his body was underneath them all. Eventually you found his bare torso, and pulled yourself impossibly close to him. A strong arm lazily found your waist, Steve mumbling his thanks for finally giving him your undivided attention into your hair.

You could feel both the sweat trickling down his bare skin and the shivering of his muscles as his fever spiked. You felt a pang in your heart at ever thinking he could possibly be feigning illness, he was clearly very sick.

You rubbed gentle circles on his back, sliding one of your legs between his, humming a made-up tune in his ear in attempts to soothe him to sleep. Guilt grew in your chest every moment you spent pushing him away earlier, and now was your time to make up for it, even if you would wake up sick in the morning.

Permanent taglist: @imagining-harrypotter @tripletstephaniescp @hoeforthefictional @moonshooter @steverogerswifesblog @yliumy @p0tterhead934

Steve Rogers taglist: @mansaaay @thechoosenonecreator @imlolxd @claudiaatje @belllarogers @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @badassbaker @melancholybaby @dusti @starry-night-20 @samwinter09 @erynnnn @patzammit @rqmanoff @gitasor

Every Step of the Way

Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: After struggling through the entire week, Steve’s there to comfort you when you need him the most.

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: severe depression is depicted, Steve and reader being naked in a shower together but nothing sexual, major hurt comfort vibes

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: this is 1000% self indulgent, I wrote this when I was in a really dark place, struggling to even just get out of bed every day and I needed Stevie there to comfort me. Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Library

Opening your eyes seems like an effort too great for the amount of energy in your reserves.

Every breath is a heave, as if trying to gasp for air with an anvil sitting on your chest.

The backs of your eyes sting with tears at the thought of needing to get out of bed. You don’t want to face the day, don’t want to be the early bird catching the worm. You want to stay under the covers and sleep, that’s all you have the motivation to do.

Dirty dishes are stacked next to your sink, they’ve been accumulating since early in the week and you’ve just not had the energy after working and making dinner each night to actually wash them yet.

Clothes litter the floor of your bedroom, but you’ve put off going down to the laundry room for the past few days, with each new sunrise promising it’ll be tomorrow you’ll find time to do it, but that tomorrow never comes.

The bathrooms need cleaning, the floor needs vacuuming, surfaces need dusting - you put off doing them last weekend to focus on other household chores, but this weekend has come around and you’re not any more inspired to complete them.

You hear keys rattle in your front door, the sound startling you enough to finally open your eyes, but not sufficiently concerning to warrant leaving your bed. The only person who owned keys to your place was your boyfriend and though you didn’t want him to see the mess you were living in, there wasn’t anything you could do in the two seconds it would take for him to open your door.

As if instinctually he knows you’re still snuggled up in bed, you hear his heavy footsteps striding steadily towards your door.

Bracing for the furious displeasure you have been conditioned to receive from ex partners when they discovered you in a relapse, you pull the covers tighter around yourself as if to shield you from what was about to happen.

“Stevie…” Your voice is soft, vulnerable as he enters the room, but it’s not pity nor annoyance you see in his eyes, which you had been expecting, but instead they are brimming with concern.

“Hey darling.” His honey voice is slow and smooth, soothing the jittery anxiety ricocheting through your mind and chest. “Not feeling too good?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you shake your head anyway, clutching the duvet closer to your chin. Steve pulls his shirt over his head, rounds the bed and climbs in next to you.

“C’mere.” His strong arms envelop you and pull you into his strong chest, the weight of them on your back and his musky scent, which now consumes your senses, is the secure reassurance you’ve been needing all week that you’re not completely alone in this brutal world.

He doesn’t ask what’s the matter with you, doesn’t ask why you’ve barely answered his messages all week, why your home is a complete mess or why you’re laying in the dark at noon on a weekend. He doesn’t make you justify your change in behaviour, why you kept him at arm's length, doesn’t scold you for your absence as other people have done in the past. Instead, he kisses your forehead, whispers that you’re safe with him as he gently rubs his hand up and down your back.

He could have easily chastised you for withdrawing into yourself and not seeking help, could have pointed out the state your home was in, or mentioned that you smelled in need of a shower, but he does none of that. Rather, he tells you over and over again that you’re loved, ingraining the notion in your mind so that you won’t ever forget, placing kisses over every inch of your face he can reach while still holding your body close.

The sound of his beating heart lulls you to a peaceful sleep, feeling safe and treasured, and for the first time this week like you don’t have to carry the weight of expectation and hollow desolation all on your own.

* * *

When you wake, the warmth provided by your sturdy boyfriend is missing. Distress fills your chest for a moment, thinking perhaps Steve coming to soothe you to sleep was a figment of your imagination, until you hear the faint sound of movement from the main living area.

With an effort you believe rivals running an entire marathon, you push the sheets off yourself, heave yourself out of bed and trudge into your kitchen, but not before noticing that the clothes that were strewn over your bedroom floor this morning were no longer there.

Once your eyes adjust to the light you notice Steve hunched over your sink, elbows deep in soapy water doing your dishes. Part of you is thankful, you’ve been needing to do them all week and just hadn’t found the energy or motivation. But another part of you, deep in your chest, feels ashamed - you have to rely on your boyfriend, who has a hectic enough life of his own, to do something as simple as washing your dishes. How pathetic.

“Steve, I can do them.” You declare, lumbering over to the counter, feeling somewhat relieved to see there’s only half the number of dirty pots and pans as was there when you left them last night.

“It’s okay darling, I’ve already got my hands wet…”

“I don’t want you doing my dishes for me, Steven.” You don’t know why those particular words leave your mouth, because seeing the dishes you had failed to clean the last few days finally have the grime scrubbed off them alleviates some of the hefty gravity pushing you chest so tight you almost can’t breathe. But it also makes you feel incapable, worthless and weak.

You’re not sure what quality it is in your voice that indicates it, but Steve immediately removes his hands from the bubbly water, dries them quickly on the back of his pants and pulls you into his chest just as tears you didn’t realise were coming start silently streaming down your cheeks.

“Shhh, it’s okay, deep breaths for me baby.” His large hands rub soothing circles around your back as your tears dampen his shirt. You try your best to follow his instruction, slowly take deep breaths and calm the flow of untameable misery pouring out the corners of your eyes, but your throat starts constricting and each new tear running down your cheeks evokes two more.

You just want it to end. You want to be able to function like a regular human being without exhausting all of your energy reserves by simply getting out of bed.

You just want to be normal. Be someone Steve can be proud to call his girl. Not someone who struggles to do the simplest of tasks.

When Steve senses that your flood of emotions isn’t subsiding, he shuffles with you in his arms towards your bathroom, whispering that the warm water of your shower will help refresh you.

He helps lift you onto your bathroom countertop, kissing away the stray tears on your cheeks before turning on the shower. While he tests the temperature of the water with one hand, his other maintains hold on yours - even just the connection to him helps in your attempts to calm yourself down. He’s here for you, and he isn’t going anywhere.

When the temperature is just how you like it, Steve helps you strip off your clothes and directs you under the stream. You let the water wash over your face, taking some of your worries with them, as Steve steps in behind you.

You can’t tell the difference between your own teardrops and drizzle of the shower as you look up at your boyfriend, grateful for the care and tenderness he’s shown you while you’re at your lowest. No one else has stuck around when they’ve seen you like this, but in this moment you feel nothing but pure love.

You place a gentle kiss to a scar on his bare chest and Steve kisses your forehead in return - a silent message to thank him for being there for you, and him to acknowledge that though you’re unable to voice your gratitude at the present moment, he understands it’s there.

Once Steve washes your hair, knowing the steps of your routine perfectly, and the rest of your body, you step out of the shower feeling like the load you’ve been carrying for the past few weeks has been washed off your back.

Steve smiles as he pulls his own shirt over your head, kissing your nose once your head pops through the hole. Now your tears have settled, you can appreciate the affection overflowing in his baby blues, fondness you don’t believe you deserve, but cherish nonetheless.

Forgetting all about the dirty dishes in the cold, soapy sink, Steve directs you back to your bedroom, climbing in after you and pulling you once again into his strapping chest.

“Darling, you don’t have to carry this burden alone. I’m here for you, and I love you, you don’t ever have to face this by yourself again.” Steve speaks softly into your hairline, the intent and conviction in his voice enough to drive you to tears again.

“But it’s not like I have that much on my plate, I should be able to do simple things like housework. I just… I just can’t. I can’t explain it, my brain just doesn’t allow me to.”

Steve pulls away from you slightly so he has an angle to look at you directly in the eye. It looks like it physically pains him to see you struggling so much.

“My love, you are the strongest person I have ever met. I am so proud of you everyday that you are here with me, that you keep battling your own mind. You’re my fighter, my best girl, and I’m here to help you through this difficult patch. For better or worse. In sickness and in health, I love you.” He punctuates his declaration with a sweet kiss, reinforcing his words.

“We’re not married Stevie.” You point out, but he simply smirks at you.

“Not yet.”

Before Steve Rogers you believed love was tumultuous and torture, that it was meant to tear you in half, because you cared about the other person so ardently it left you bloodied and bruised. But Steve proved to you that wasn’t love - love isn’t supposed to feel like you’re going to war, instead it’s comfort, it’s a reassuring embrace of someone who has seen your battle scars and tells you it’s time to rest.

Love is solace.

And Steve Rogers is certainly your solace.

𖦹⋆ ༘ ☼ 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

# 01 — steve rogers x fem!reader # 02 — cw: none, only cute tooth-rotting fluff! set after ca:tws, established relationship # 03 — wc: 1.09k # 04 — a/n:  *sing-songy voice* i’m backkk *normal voice* so i know i’ve been pretty much mia for the past few months but i think i’m back for good now. which also means, i'm going to be writing and posting whenever i can, so requests are open again, feel free to send them in! 

as for this one-shot (which was originally supposed to be a drabble), i chose stevie to break me back into posting because i love him and he’s steve and i just love fluffy and adorable steve so much. this idea just flowed in as i wrote and i sort of love how it turned out, so i really hope you enjoy! feedback of any sort is always appreciated ♡

steve didn’t usually sleep in. never really had the habit of doing so, and his job with s.h.i.e.l.d. never really allowed him the opportunity either. but it had somehow started happening since he started spending the nights with you. maybe it was the fact that he had finally gotten a free day on the weekend or that he was simply too tired from his last mission. nevertheless, mornings with steve were pretty much one of your favourite ways to begin your days.

so it was pretty weird when you woke up and found steve in bed at 9 a.m., curled up into you and still asleep. the sun streamed in from the window behind him, covering him in sunshine and god, was he beautiful. your breath hitched at the sight of his peaceful expression— no furrows between his eyebrows and no frown twisting his lips— and made the decision to let him sleep in for as long as he wanted and whenever he wanted. you were rather well acquainted with steve’s bad habit for not stopping until he’d run himself completely ragged. sometimes not even then. he could use all the sleep he got.

but you just couldn’t resist pressing your hand to his cheek, thumb gently— just barely caressing the dark bags under his eye. steve hummed lowly but did not seem to stir from his sleep and, pulling your hand away before he could wake, you moved to gently untangle yourself from him. 

breakfasts with steve were also an uncommon occurrence with the unpredictability of his job, but the both of you cherished and made the most of every time you got to do things together. even the mundane ones like this.

but just as you began to move, a strong hand tightened around your waist, pulling you back into a firm chest. “where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?”

goddamit.

your heart lurched at the sound of his voice— deep and rich, rough and tired from his sleep. you couldn’t stop a smile pulling at your lips as you turned back around to face him. “good morning stevie,” you hummed quietly, hand raising to press against his cheek.

steve tightened his arm around your waist until you were pressed up entirely into him, and then pressed his face into the crook of your neck. “good morning my love,” he mumbled, “care to tell me why you were abandoning me in bed like this?”

you huffed a laugh. it wasn’t a long shot to say steve got a bit dramatic sometimes, usually when it was just the two of you and especially when he was fishing for some love. “hush, you big baby. i just wanted to go get breakfast started.”

“breakfast can wait, i wanna stay in bed with you for a bit longer.” he moved his face and brushed his nose against yours, before pecking your lips softly. “please y/n/n?”

the world could’ve been coming to an end, and with the way steve was looking at you— golden hair mussed from sleep, the prettiest blue eyes still sleepy but soft as they gazed upon you, and his lips pulled into a tiny pout— there was no way in hell you would’ve refused him.

“alright darling, we can stay in for as long as you want.”

his hand squeezed your hips in thanks before he pressed his face into her hair. he inhaled, his strong chest rising and falling under her hands, and then he spoke, “i hate that we don't get more of such mornings. i can’t get enough of you like this. when there’s no hurry for me to rush somewhere, when it’s just the two of us.”

you sighed quietly. you knew how much steve hated not being able to spend enough time with you because of his job. he always beat himself up over missed dates, movie nights and the time lost, despite you knowing steve couldn’t help it and never giving him any grief over it. besides, you knew steve would never be able to rest without having done his best to help in any situation. that was one of the traits that simply made him so special. something that made him him. plus, he never missed any chance to make up for it, and damn did he do a good job at it.

“i know, my love.” you moved so you could look him in the eyes, rubbing his hands over his shoulders and biceps. “someday, we will get all the time we want for ourselves. but until then, i don’t mind sharing you with the world a bit longer.”

he smiled softly. “i love you, y'know that?”

you hummed your reply and pressed closer before putting your lips to his in a soft kiss. steve made a soft sound in his chest that had your heart lurching in your chest. his hand skimmed up and down your back, fingers spreading wide over the fabric of the t-shirt you’d stolen from him, before they finally settled on your waist again. his fingers scrunched your t-shirt, pulling you impossibly closer as the kiss grew heated; another sound leaving him, this one louder, as your fingers found his hair, nails scratching gently at his scalp. the sound jolted you out of the trance steve’s touch never failed to put you in. you gasped as you pulled your lips from his and ignoring steve’s unhappy whine, you settled back into the mattress after putting some distance between your faces.

“is this why you’ve been trying to keep me in your bed, captain?” you murmured, swiping your thumb on steve’s lower lip as you looked up at him coyly. if staying in bed is what he wanted, you could at least tease him a bit first.

he groaned quietly, squeezing his eyes shut tightly after eyeing the smirk pulling at your lips. what was he doing playing a game he knew he’d never win?

“i was only hopin’ for some snuggles from my best girl,” he murmured, tucking some hair out of your eyes. “but you know i’d be the last person to say no to more, sweetheart.”

“mhm, i see that with your eagerness.” you laughed finally, leaning up to press kisses across his cheeks. hearing a big, burly man like steve ask for snuggles was just enough to crack your resolve. "you can have your snuggles, stevie."

steve chuckled as he pulled you closer and on top of him, and the sound filled your heart with so much love you could feel it vibrating throughout your entire body.

yeah, mornings with steve were definitely your favourite way to start your days.

taglist @demigoddess-of-ghosts (you filled out my taglist form for steve like months ago, so i have no idea if you still wanna be tagged, but i hope this is fine bae <3)

feel free to comment if anyone else would like to be added!

— © property of couragemydearheart. do not copy or post on any other site without permission.

Derek Hale x Female Reader

Title- Stiles' Little Sister

Description- Derek comforts reader after she had a hard day at school. Just fluff, that's all this is

Word count- 1630

Y/N is pulled from sleep at the feeling of a gentle hand rubbing up and down her back, nails lightly scratching a path over her shirt. A smile graces her face when she looks up to see her boyfriend of eight months crouching down next to her bed. "Hi, Derbear." She whispers through a sleepy smile.

"Hi, babygirl. You looked so cute sleeping, I didn't want to wake you." Derek says with a blinding smile. Y/N is quick to bury her face back into her pillow, blushing at Derek's words. Derek huffs out a laugh as he climbs into the bed with the younger girl. "How was school?" He asks, pressing a quick kiss to the crown of her head. Y/N merely shrugs her shoulder, resting her head on the werewolf's chest. "Did something happen?" He worries. 

Y/N sighs, letting the feel of Derek running his nails down her shirt-covered back calm her before she says anything. "Nothing happened, per se," She mutters, drawing patterned on Derek's chest. "It's just the teachers, and students, and stuff." She finally says after a moment of silence.

"Did somebody say something to you?" Derek questions, still running his hand up and down the girl's back in an attempt to keep her grounded and in the moment.

The room is quiet for a few minutes as Y/N gathers her thoughts, deciding how she wants to talk the problem out with her boyfriend. "It's just, that ever since our relationship became public, everyone treats me differently. Like, kids talk about me behind their backs. Granted, they don't know I can hear what they're saying, werewolf hearing and everything but that doesn't matter! The teachers treat me differently too. They don't call on me when I know the answer, and they know, I know it! And they call on me when I don't know the answer and embarrass me in front of the whole class. Hearing what everyone is saying about us behind our backs is what hurts the most." Y/N vents, squeezing her hands into fists when her claws slowly start to come out. Taking a deep breath, she continues. "I hear them say I'm only with you for the money or the sex. I'm not only with you for either but don't get me wrong, the sex is great, but it's not the only reason I'm with you! Or the money! I don't care about the money! I promise Der." Y/N says, tears quickly brimming her eyes.

"Hey, hey, calm down babygirl. I know you're not with me for either, though I would have to agree, the sex is pretty good," Derek says with a cheeky smile, making Y/N huff out a laugh. "What else are they saying?" He questions quietly.

"They say that you're blackmailing or threatening me to be with you, calling you a pervert for being with someone so much younger than you. Eight years isn't that much! Mom and Dad were nine years apart! Dad wouldn't have let us be together if he saw something wrong with it" Y/N exclaims.

Sure, the Sheriff didn't see any problems with the couple being together, but Stiles sure saw a problem.

Y/N and Derek were too wrapped up in each other to hear the sound of the loft door being opened and closed, or the sound of footsteps coming toward them until it was too late. Stiles' scream of horror when he looked at the couple is what brought them out of the intense makeout session. Y/N hurriedly throws herself off of Derek's lap, covering herself with the comforter, and looking around the floor for her jeans and shirt she had thrown off in her haste to climb onto Derek's lap.

"Stiles! Do you not know how to knock?" Derek growls, pulling his jeans on over his boxers.

"I didn't think I had to knock! I would have if I'd known you were sucking my baby sister's face off! Dude, you're like, ten years older than her! Dad is gonna flip when he finds out, Y/N!" Stiles yells.

"He's only eight years older, and Dad already knows! I wouldn't be dating Derek if Dad didn't know. Now will you please leave so I can get dressed? I would rather my boyfriend be the only person to see me in my underwear!" Y/N yells at her older brother, sending the other boy scurrying out of the room and down the stairs. Y/N sighs, flopping down onto the bed, and covering her face with her hands.

"At least we still had our underwear on. It could have been so much worse, babydoll," Derek says as he hovers over her. He pries her hands from her face, giving her a gentle smile when she glares at him. "Look on the bright side, now when I sneak in your window at night, we don't have to be as quiet, since he knows. Granted, I'm not gonna make you scream, that's only for me to hear." Derek says, nipping at the younger girl's neck, making her squeal.

"You better get off my sister and get down here, Derek Hale!" Stiles yells from the living room of the loft. Derek growls softly, his eyes flashing Alpha red, Y/N's flashing yellow in return as she giggles at her boyfriend and Alpha.

"We're coming, keep your pants on, Stilinski!" Derek yells back, getting up from the bed to finish buttoning his jeans and find a shirt. He throws Y/N's discarded clothes at her, flashing his eyes at her one last time as he says, "We're not done here. When he leaves, I'm going to finish what I started." Y/N squeaks, moving to quickly put her clothes on, in a bid to get her brother out of the loft quicker. Derek chuckles, watching his girlfriend rush down the stairs while she's still fixing her shirt.

"Stiles has a reason to have a problem with our relationship, but no one else does! I just don't understand why anyone else cares." Y/N says, sniffling softly, all the steam from her rant quickly leaving her.

"Y/N, can you look at me please?" Derek gently asks, pulling his girlfriend's face to his. "I don't care what anyone else thinks of us. This relationship is between you and me. No one else. No one else has any say in our relationship. I'm dating you, not them. If I wanted their opinion, I would ask them, but I'm not. As far as I'm concerned, they can all go eat Wolfsbane. I only care what you think, because I love you, and only you."  Derek says softly, smiling when Y/N's eyes widen.

"You love me?" She asks. In the eight months they had been dating, those three words hadn't come up yet. Y/N had wanted Derek to say it when he felt like it, not when he thought she would want to hear it, so she let him be the first to say it.

"I do. I love you more than anything in this world, which is why I don't care what anyone else says about us. Only you."

"I love you too, more than anything, Derek. You're the best thing to happen to me in a long time." Y/N says. Her eyes flash gold, Derek's answering in red. The couple sit for several minutes in content silence, until Y/N says, "My mom would have loved you."

Derek's face breaks into a huge smile when he replies. "I know my family would love you too. Almost as much as I love you. But not nearly as much." He says, pulling the girl on top of him. Y/N softly rubs her nose over Derek's neck, scenting him gently. She lets the smell of her Alpha lull her to sleep, Derek following not long after.

~*~

The sound of the dismissal bell rings throughout the parking lot, as students file out of the doors. Derek waits, leaning up against his Camero, watching for Y/N's bouncing bun on the top of her head to come out of the door. When he finally lays eyes on her, she's talking to a girl with purple hair, but is quick to bid her goodbye when she sees Derek waiting for her. She takes off like a shot to him, her backpack bouncing against her back as she rapidly makes her way to him.

Derek braces for impact when she gets close to him, opening his arms for her to run into. The Alpha werewolf encircles her shoulders with his arms when she makes contact with him, her arms wrapping around his middle. "Hi, baby. I missed you today." Derek says into her hair, where he places a kiss. "How was your day?" He asks when she pulls away.

She gives him a radiant smile, puckering her lips in invitation for a kiss, which Derek is quick to grant with a huff of laughter. "It was really good. Since you've started picking me up at the end of the day and you bring me lunch, people have stopped talking about us as much. The teachers are nicer too. I think they're scared of you. It's great!" Y/N chirps happily.

Derek laughs gently at the younger werewolf, sliding his hands down her back to rest of her jeans-clad butt. "I'm glad. Now, let's get home, I've been dying to have you under me all day, and I don't plan on wasting any more time in making that happen. Get in the car, babydoll." Derek all but growls in Y/N's ear, opening to door for her. Y/N makes a sound between a squeal and moan when Derek slaps her butt as she's getting into the Camero, making Derek laugh as he rounds the front of the car to get into the driver's side, revving the engine and pulling out of the parking lot hastily.

How about Derek Hale seeing his gf wearing his shirt for the first time?

"So you're the clothes stealer hm?" Derek smiled against your shoulder as he pulled you into his lap. He was still in bed when he noticed his shirt missing, granted it was hard to locate any clothes in the mess his room was because of last nights activities but his nose didn't lie.

"Guilty." You cupped his cheeks as you took your seat on his lap, your bare thighs pressing against his. He was still naked. Oh. "You didn't get dressed at all?"

Derek smirked and pulled the shirt down, his mouth hot against the skin of your shoulder, "I would, but someone stole my favorite shirt. You have your own."

"Oh now you want me in my clothes?" You teased as you pointed out the scratch marks on your legs that the shirt barely covered, "I need to cover these up Derek. I'm not going out in shorts."

"But you were happy to ask for them. And you seem happy to let people know we're together. Everyone saw that kiss yesterday, and they're sure as hell gonna smell me on you even if you don't walk out wearing my shirt." Part of him wanted to see you wearing his clothes, "How about you wear it only for me?" But the other possessive wolf part of him wanted you for himself.

Keeper, Sketch, and Scratch

A/N: Just wanted some adorable fluff today. I needed it. Maybe we all need it.

“Watch out! You’re gonna get yourself killed?”

Steve jumps back out of the way of the razor-sharp edge, inches from his face.

“I don’t get why—“ he bumps against the wall and makes an impromptu sidestep “—she’s so angry.” Steve less than gracefully trips over your foot and nearly topples the pair of you. If you both go down, you’ll be at the beast's mercy.

“You’re supposed to save me,” you squeal. “You’re normally so good with women.”

Steve throws you a vicious glance before getting stabbed in the foot. “Ah! Oh, come on, you’ve had food. It’s right there,” he wails.

Alpine, Bucky’s new feline, doesn’t care. She knows Steve is a dog guy and smells his fear.

“Stark said she was nice,” Steve cries weakly, snatching his arm away. Alpine stalks him to the corners of the room. It’s hilarious, but she is actually a pretty terrifying little package of fur.

“Then be like Tony and woo her.”

Steve jumps out of the way again. “How? How am I supposed to do that?”

“Oh, right,” you sigh, “you didn’t even really woo me…”

His head snaps up again. “Don’t you start—AH!”

Alpine latches on tooth and nail to Steve’s beautiful forearm. You don’t blame her.

“How does something so small hurt so bad?”

You’re failing to suppress a smile as you notice the wiggle of her furry body turn playful. She thrashes a bit, sinks in, then waits, staring at Steve with big blue eyes.

“Little white devil, that one,” you mutter, half-laughing.

The two fighters have a silent shake down of head bobs and squinting eyes. Alpine releases her jaw. Steve softly hisses when her claws shift, but it’s because Alpine is rubbing her chin along his thumb.

“I see…” You chance a step closer. “She was wooing you, huh? Had to break you in a bit, I think.”

“Plays rough like her pa,” Steve says with a furrowed brow.

“Or Nat, depending on how you look at it.”

He nods as he reaches his other hand under Alpine’s suspended body and tucks her to his chest, tentatively. He must have great faith in the resilience of his tact suit to bring her even closer, but the pretty kitty sinks into the hold with a little yowl.

You laugh.

It takes a few tries to pull away his other arm, and it’s possible Alpine only releases when it’s clear Steve is moving to scratch at her head. The purrs start full force.

You’re impressed, not just by Steve’s gentility but by Alpine’s extreme emotional range. Strategically feral, just like Bucky, which makes probably the most sense but is still funny.

Steve beams. He holds Alpine like a fluffy baby and coos, then quietly whispers, “see? And Aunty said I wasn’t good with women.”

He looks up at you through his long lashes, thinking he’s won with a sassy last word.

Alpine nips at his finger. Fast learner.

[While decorating the Christmas tree]

Steve: Why is everybody using these tiny little lights nowadays? I remember when people used to use big lights.

Natasha: That's a good story, Grandpa.

It's that Ransom Drysdale coat

Hey

Can you write something with reader having a little daughter and one time when reader's boyfriend Bucky is around. Reader's daughter made him a bracelet and gives it to him. Bucky takes it with a smile and always has it around his wrist from now on. 💗

Thank you in advance 💖

This is absolutely adorable🥹 I had so much fun writing this🥰 I hope you like it🩵

Bracelet » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Mom/Girlfriend!Reader with daughter Hailey

Summary: The reader’s daughter makes a bracelet for Bucky.

Warnings: Fluff, language, nothing but cuteness, hugs and kisses, nicknames for daughter (princess), pet names for reader (doll)

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators.

DIVIDER IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to @firefly-graphics

“You’re home!” You smiled, hugging him. “How was the mission?” You asked.

“It was fine. I missed my girls.” Bucky says, kissing your lips.

“Hailey, Bucky is home!” You say.

“Coming, mommy!” Hailey says.

You and Bucky have been dating for a few weeks. Your 6 year old daughter absolutely loves him. She became best friends with him the second they met.

Hailey came running out of her bedroom and jumped into Bucky’s arms. Bucky was quick to catch her and give her hugs and kisses.

“I missed you so much!” She says.

“How much?” He asks her.

“This much!” She says, opening her arms.

“That’s a lot!” Bucky says.

Bucky went to the living room and sat down on the couch with Hailey in his arms.

“Were you a good girl for mommy while I was gone?” He asks.

“Yes!” Hailey nodded. “I made you something!” She says, carefully sliding off of his lap and ran to her bedroom.

You sat down next to him. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him, kissing your lips sweetly.

“Mmm, I missed you so much.” You say.

“How much did you miss me, doll?” He asks.

“Let me show you.” You cupped his cheeks, kissing him passionately.

“That’s a lot.” He says against your lips.

You two pulled away from each other when you heard little footsteps running back in the living room. Hailey climbed onto the couch and got on Bucky’s lap.

“Close your eyes.” Hailey says with her hands behind her back.

Bucky chuckled and closed his eyes. Hailey carefully put on a bracelet that she made on his metal wrist. The bracelet has a bunch of different colored beads with letters that spell out his name.

“Open!” She says excitedly.

Bucky opened his eyes and looked at the bracelet on his metal wrist. A smile grew on his face.

“Do you like it?” She asks.

“I love it. Thank you, princess.” He smiles, hugging her.

“It will give you good luck while you’re on missions!” She says.

“Then I’m definitely going to wear it forever.” He says with a smile, admiring the bracelet on his wrist.

You smiled to yourself. Seeing your daughter and boyfriend interact made you more than happy.

Thank you for requesting!🩵 @lives-in-midgard

-Bucky’s Doll

Just a little thought for your sweet Sunday prompt, don’t worry if it’s not the sort of thing you want. Kind, soft old fashioned gentleman Steve looking after the reader when she’s having a particularly bad time of the month. I love that man so much and I adore how you write him.😍

Fair warning: this gets sweet but sooooooooo deep after the feels. I went overboard on the semi-angst because periods and (my) life sucks. Steve's just so magical, that bastard....

Hour seven of cramping and you contemplate just giving up and heading to bed. You look over to the clock.

20:23

No way. Too early. You can wait one hour more until another dose of painkiller.

Except now you're out of snacks and either have to watch only half a movie or search for a TV show.

There's a knock at the door, and why someone checking on you makes you want to cry is beyond you. You just do want to cry. You don't want to explain WWIII in your uterus; you want ice cream, dammit.

"I bought three kinds," Steve announces, using his foot to close up behind him, arms covered in grocery bags like a pack mule. "Four if you count the sandwiches."

When he finally looks up, he stalls seeing you curled into the couch, covered in thick blankets, a pillow squished harshly to your chest, and tears brimming in your eyes.

His eyes soften. "Hun," he whines, dropping his arms, "you could have texted me."

You shake your head before tucking it into the pillow. "Not gonna bother you," you mumble through fabric.

"That bad, huh?"

Steve doesn't need an answer though. He's speedy in the kitchen while you scroll absently through Netflix. You still have no clue what to watch.

He returns to your side with a bowl: one scoop of every flavor capped with an entire ice cream sandwich...minus one bite.

"Sorry," he winks, "boyfriend tax."

Steve's cute when he's cheeky, and he knows it.

"That's a big bite, mister."

He shrugs, simply adding, "inflation."

Another sharp pang hits you above the hip, one so brutal and deep you hiss. He asks about medicine, if you'd like hot tea or chocolate, and what else he can do. There's nothing. Just another pang before the other even recedes.

Concern falls off his face suddenly, and Steve holds up a finger before hurtling over the back of the couch.

He comes back but sits on the floor with his hand out. "Foot, please," he adds, brandishing a pair of your fuzziest socks.

"One sec," you groan and clutch the bowl tighter. You can't lift your leg until the cramp stops. You watch Steve school his face with patience instead of sadness.

Some months are worse than others, and Steve doesn't like unpredictable things. Even though he's patient. Even though he rolls with the punches. He will never get used to seeing his best girl in pain, and so most of the time, you hide it from him. You've trained yourself to play it off like it's nothing more than a temporary stomach ache, but this one is bad. You cannot play off this month.

You drank as much water as you could handle. You peed every twenty minutes and cleaned up every time as if it would matter. You want to shower every hour, but that would be just as useless. You'll feel gross and bloated no matter what.

You should feel so pampered and loved when Steve gently slips the soft sock over your heel. You should be happy beneath his gorgeous, blue, adoring gaze. You should not start crying into your confection. It's not salted caramel, for christ's sake. Get it together.

Which, of course, you can't do.

You can't stop any of it, and then you're happy you can't stop it because then he might stop. Somehow Steve only becomes more doting as you shovel ice cream in like air. He sneaks another bite of sandwich to make you smile. Somehow smiling makes the tears come faster. He peels away some blankets and the pillow, politely waiting until the spoon clinks against empty china. Somehow he wrestles you into his lap and hugs.

The firm grip he puts you in is soothing like a weighted blanket, tighter than you can wrap against your own gut, and it feels so good. He curls around you as you were curled in the cushions, a universal pressure, a universal peace.

"You want to watch a comedy or a nature documentary?" His voice rumbles against your back.

"Neither."

His chin pokes your cheek with a questioning hum.

"Tell me about your day," you reply, sighing, letting your whole self lean into Steve even though you feel swollen and grumpy.

He squeezes a little firmer around you, waiting to feel more tension drain from you. "Well, Sam complained that I was heavy again."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he had to lift me ten stories higher between buildings."

You scoff. "My god, how hard can it be?"

"I know, I know," he mutters, "I'm light as a feather. Practically lean."

"Yeah," you finally smile. "Go on. Have another ice cream sandwich, you skinny boy."

His chuckle rattles behind you. "Only if we can share...then I'm thinking a hot bath and more of this--" he cuddles up closer "--if you're game."

"Just a minute longer," you beg in a whisper before adding with more strength, "you still haven't told me about Sam and Bucky's latest tiff."

State Your Name (for the Record) - S.R.

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert, emotional H/C

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader       Word count: 5560

Summary:  For a man haunted by nightmares, waking up was an ambivalent process.

For a man in love, the pros outweighed the cons. And make no mistake, Steve Rogers was a man in love. 

In which Steve feels blue, but he can count on his girl to raise his spirits – especially since she can convince his whole team to do something nice for him.

Warnings: implied mission going not so well, angst, crying, self-doubts,  swearing ,fluff and cheesiness of the highest order

Waking up was an everyday process most people considered unpleasant.

For a man haunted by nightmares, either made up by his traumatised mind or simply by pressing re-play on one from the stack of torturous memories, the action was both relieving and exhausting.

Waking up meant the nightmares were over; waking up meant he had to pick himself up and, despite all odds, face another day, even when his body ached and his soul seemed too tired, yet determined to continue to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

For a man in love, the pros outweighed the cons. And make no mistake, Steve Rogers was a man in love.

A woman he proudly called his girlfriend was nothing less than everything he could wish for; she carried beauty in features she considered imperfect, she never failed to make him smile for at least a fraction, her laughter filled his chest with delight as it lit up the room and she was gentle and dorky to a fault. And for he was willing to give her the world, she reciprocated his feelings to full extend.

Keep reading

Green paint

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Summary: babysitting Morgan with Steve gets a little bit out of control.

Word count: 1,637

Warnings: fluff

Masterlist

“The number for the hotel is this one, the number for the restaurant we’ll be at is here, and this is her physicians numb- Y/n are you even listening?” Pepper asks as she notices you staring off.

“Yeah you said the number for hotel, restaurant and the morgue is on this nice fancy piece of paper”.

“You’re hilarious you know?”

“I know, look Pep it’s not the first time I’ve had the pleasure of babysitting Carly so don’t worry”

“Who the hell is Carly?” Tony asks as he walks in with your boyfriend, Steve.

“Umm your daughter, Pep sorry to tell you this but your husbands losing his mind”

“Doll stop winding them up” Steve chuckles coming over to you.

“I can’t help it, anyways I say this in the most nicest way possible but you two leave, eat food that cost way more than my apartment and top it off by having mind blowing s-“

“Alright alright we’re leaving Jesus Christ” Pepper practically shouts.

Tony hands Pepper her coat and purse as he calls for Morgan to come and say goodbye.

“Be good and we love you” Pepper says kissing her daughters cheek.

“Who me or auntie Y/n?” Morgan asks with her eyebrow slightly raised.

“Both.” Tony laughs.

The moment the door closes Morgan grips your hand in hers and drags you to her play room, talking a mile a minute.

“-then we’ll play dress up and then we’ll play with my dolls and-“ 

“Morg slow down sweetie” you say chuckling at the six year old.

“-and we’ll have nuggets and fries and…where’s uncle Stevie?”

“I’m here sweetheart, I was getting your juice for you”. He says and sure enough he had a juice box and a drink for the two of you.

“Thanks uncle Stevie”

“You’re welcome, so what’s the plan tonight then girlies?”

As Morgan retells her plans to him you stand and watch as the six foot super solider holds a pink bunny teddy in his hands, getting ready to hold the elephant teddy as Morgan hands them to him. You couldn’t help but take your phone out of your pocket and snap a few photos of him.

“What are you doing pretty girl?” He asks you after being handed the elephant and now crocodile teddy.

“Oh nothing pretty boy” winking at him as his cheeks start to turn a little shade of red.

Playing dress ups were done after 30 minutes as Morgan got bored of it.

Then you three played doctors, it was your turn to be the patient. You only went to the pretend hospital with a really bad tummy ache and left with an amputated leg. Thanks to Doctor Morgan and her assistant Steve - I wouldn’t recommend going there, ever.

Playing with her dolls was over with pretty quickly as all the dolls were tired and needed a nap.

Steve left Morgan’s playroom - which looked more like a toy store - to make dinner for the three of you, leaving you and Morgan sitting on the very comfortable bean bags.

“Auntie Y/n can I ask you something?”

“Of course pudding”

“When will you and uncle Stevie have babies?“

Ah the good old question your asked constantly now you’ve been dating Steve for five years. Explaining to adults was easy, it mainly consists of you telling them to mind their own business - not necessarily that politely - but explaining it to a six year old? That’s new territory, she’s never asked it before.

“I’m not sure sweetheart” is all you can say.

“Do you like babies?”

“No”

“Why?”

“Because they’re smelly”

“I wasn’t smelly” she laughs.

“Morg you was the smelliest baby in the whole world!”

Her cheeks puffed out as the smile grew more and more “no I wasn’t”

“I’m not lying to you”

“Auntie Y/n, where do babies come from?”

Oh boy. This whole conversation was throwing you off.

“Aliens” you even winced at your own reply.

“Aliens?” She raises her eyebrow reminding you so much of her father.

“Yep. Aliens come and drop off babies to parents”

“How do they make them?”

This girl was killing you.

“Magic?”

“Magic.” She gives you a deadpan look as you nod.

The second you heard Steve call for you two, you practically ran out of the room.

During dinner Morgan told Steve all about where babies came from and how they were made, his eyes looked over at you and with a straight face you nodded, agreeing with the girl.

“Auntie Y/n uncle Stevie” Morgan’s voice trailed down the corridor.

“What’s up?” You asked as you walked down to where she was.

“It’s time to paint”.

“Oh sweetie I don’t think that’s a good idea” Steve says softly.

It wasn’t. The last time you three painted together things…kinda got a little out of hand. Paint was everywhere. All over the floor, walls and even the ceiling.

Tony and Pepper weren’t happy.

“But please uncle Stevie!”

“Maybe if we do damage control it won’t be as bad as last time?” You asked, the pleading in Morgan’s voice chipped away at your heart.

“Babe, we said that last time”

“It’s okay uncle Stevie. I’ll sit in the corner” you both watch as she walks over to the corner and sits down with a huff.

“I’m not giving in Y/n!”

“Nope neither am I…but she looks so sad”

“Alright fine! But the moment things get out of hand we put everything away okay!”

“Yes yes thank you uncle Stevie your the best”

Steve places a kiss to her forehead and watches as she goes to her paint stand, pulling tub and tub out. “I was talking to you too doll”.

“I’ll behave, scouts honour”.

The three of you had been painting for well over an hour, showing each other your paintings after you finished them.

You were adding the last little bit of detail to your latest masterpiece when you felt something splattering across your face.

“Was…that…what…I…think…it…is” looking up from your work to Steve and Morgan who both sit there trying to contain their laughter.

“I won’t ask again you two”

“It’s paint auntie Y/n” Morgan bursts out laughing.

“I’m sorry doll but she told me to do it”

“Yo-you threw paint at me? Steven!”

“Oh oh you’re in trouble” Morgan sings looking towards Steve.

“Babe, Morgan told me to d-“

You cut him off with flicking your brush at him, leaving pink splashes of paint on his face.

He actually had the audacity to looked shocked whilst you smirked.

Morgan’s laughter filled the whole room but she too falls victim when you and Steve flick paint at her.

All three of you come to a stand-off. Eyes bouncing from one another. Armed and ready with paint. Silently daring each other to be the first one to make a move.

Morgan’s the first one to attack.

Brushes were long gone as hands were going into the larger tubs so you can get your next victim easier.

The screams and laughter fills the whole penthouse.

You stalked towards Morgan who was laughing whilst pleading for you not to get her, you was about to reach out for her when her eyes went wide, bouncing from you and behind you. Her arms went out and she started muttering.

Deciding to look behind you, you see your ever so loving boyfriend smiling at you.

When you see his hands it becomes your turn for your eyes to open wide like saucers and you’re moving away from Morgan.

His hands are dripping in green paint.

"Do not touch me!" You speak lowly.

“I wasn’t”

“I mean it Steve do not touch me!”

“I wasn’t!”

“Back up. Now, Steve!”

Morgan stands there eyes still wide and in fact they somehow grow even more. She doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She’s finding the whole situation funny, her aunt and uncle slowly moving around the room - her auntie trying to escape her uncle whilst he tries to catch her - at six years old she’s smart, she knows that if her uncle puts his green hands on her auntie it’s going to take her auntie forever to get it all off.

“I’m not doing anything baby!”

“Morgan…give me some more paint” Morgan listens and finally moves, going straight for the pink paint. “Thanks sweetie”.

“Babe you’re overreacting, I wasn’t going to do anything”

“Ov-overreacting? How dare you!”

Morgan watches as her favourite auntie and uncle move closer to each other now that Y/n had more paint to her hands. Even though she’s six years old she knows, she knows that after tonight she won’t be seeing the pair for a few weeks.

You and Steve were about to pounce on each other when you feel cold liquid drenching the pair of you.

Shocked you look to the side where Morgan stands with a grimace on her face. The now empty tub of green paint tightly held in her hands. 

Before anyone can say anything the door comes open and a scream breaks the silence.

Pepper.

“Oh my… I think I’m having a heart attack!”

The three of you had gotten so carried away with the battle you were in that you didn’t realise how much paint was getting everywhere.

It was so much worse than last time.

So much worse.

“That was so fun auntie and uncle, we should do it again next time”

You, Steve and Morgan are in different parts of the room. Scrubbing and cleaning up all the now dried paint off.

“There’s not going to be a next time” Tony’s voice says but looking around the room you don’t see him. “Top left corner” you could practically hear the eye roll he did.

And that’s when you see it. The camera.

“Back to work!”

~ banner credit goes to @sweetpeapod ~

clingy

Steve Rogers x reader

A/N I'm sorry for not posting for a few days, I will catch up but my son has been ill and I've been focusing on him. This is a part of my 100 followers celebration. Also, all mistakes are my own, so if you see any feel free to comment them and other comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated.

THIS IS NOT AN 18+ FIC BUT I STILL FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE WITH MINORS READING MY FICS SO PLEASE DNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR

Summary whenever you come home from a mission Steve feels the need to be touching you at all times

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

Warnings fluff

Steve wasn’t really a clingy person but when you come back from a mission, you saw a different side to america’s golden boy. 

As soon as the quinjet landed, Steve was running over, waiting for you to walk out. He picked you up and walk ed into the compound with your legs wrapped around his waist and your bag over his shoulder. 

He didn’t put you down until you reached the living room on your shared floor: he put your bag on the table and sat on the couch with you on his lap. 

“I missed you so much baby,” Steve mumbled into the crook of your neck. 

“I missed you too stevie,” you replied, running your hands through his soft locks of hair. 

You stayed like that for a while until your stomach grumbled. This made Steve chuckle and pick you up again.

“What do you want to eat darlin’?” he asked.

“I’m thinking takeout from that Thai place we went to before I went on this mission.”

“That sounds like a good idea babe. I’ll call them and you can go and get some blankets to make the couch more comfy,” he said, kissing your forehead and putting you down.

You walked into your shared bedroom and grabbed every blanket in sight (there were many since you loved to hoard blankets) and arranged them on the couch. Then, you grabbed the pillows off your bed and arranged them so both you and Steve would be comfy. 

A few minutes later, Steve walked into the living room and laid down on the couch with his head on your lap.

“They said it should be here in 15-20 minutes,” Steve told you with a smile on his face since you had started to play with his hair.

“That means we can start a film. What do you want to watch baby?”

“What was the film you said you wanted to watch with me before you went on the mission?” 

“Are you talking about A Muppets Christmas Carol?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“We can watch that baby, I just gotta find it on Disney+ first.”

Not many people knew this but Steve loved musicals, he didn’t know why but theres something so magical about them that always captivated him. He doesn’t tell many people this fact about him though since he’s a bit embarrased about it (he was almost too embarrassed to tell you but a few kisses sorted that issue out.)

You pressed play on the remote and saw a smile creep onto Steve’s face. You loved to see him so happy. 

15 minutes into the film you were alerted by F.R.I.D.A.Y that someone was at the gates with a delivery for you.

“I’ll go and get it darlin’” Steve told you, smiling.

It wasn’t long before Steve was back. You grabbed you food and sat on the couch. Steve walked over to you but he didn’t sit on the couch, he sat between your legs- you had already put a few pillows and blankets there on the floor, knowing Steve would sit there. He rested his head against your left leg while he ate his food and watched the tv.

Once the both of you had finished eating, Steve wrapped his arm around your left leg and gave your thigh a kiss. This didn’t look like anything special, but to Steve it was a perfect level of intimacy for him and his slight clingyness.

This being accompanied by you constantly running your hands through his hair made him feel happy and content that you where home but also that you were ok with his need to be touching you at that moment.

If you want to join my taglist to know when I post these fics or any others please click on the link.

Also, if you want to see what I reblog, my other account is @sebastianstanisahotmf-reblogs

Taglist: @buckys-wintersoldier, @nicoline1998enilocin

Stolen Dairy

Word Count: 370

Summary: Bucky doesn’t respect the rules of a communal kitchen.

Warning: Language and a messy kitchen

A/N: This is what happens when @aubzylynn sends me links to help me overcome writer’s block.

Steve hurried into the kitchen that morning, following the sound of yelling and breaking dishes. He was torn between surprise and resignation at the sight that greeted him.

There was broken glass on the floor, remnants of some poor cup or bowl that had gotten stuck in the crossfire. The blender was tipped on its side, a half-blended smoothie spilling out across the counter and dripping onto the floor. Benny Goodman’s “Sing, Sing, Sing” was blaring from the stereo, adding a decidedly ridiculous air of dramatics to the scene playing out in the kitchen. You were perched on your knees on top of the kitchen island whacking Bucky with a wet dish rag which snapped with a painful sound every time it made contact. Bucky had his metal arm raised defensively in front of his face while he chucked pieces of frozen fruit at you with the other.

“Children. I’m living with children,” Steve sighed, hooking his arm around your waist and dragging you off the counter.

“Steve, put me down! No, listen, he deserves it this time!” you whined, struggling to escape his hold on you or at least to put your feet on the ground.

“I didn’t even do anything! I was just trying to make a smoothie, and she came in and started going psycho!” Bucky protested.

“That son of a bitch stole my yogurt!” you yelled, and Steve was forced to devote both arms to holding you as you continued to try to wiggle free.

“How was I supposed to know it was yours? We share a kitchen! I wasn’t aware your dairy was off limits!”

“Alright,” Steve cut in, tossing you lightly onto the couch as you shrieked in protest. He placed a firm hand on your shoulder to keep you from rising. “Buck, go buy her more yogurt.”

“What!?”

“You know how ridiculous she is about food. You either go buy her more, or she’s just going to keep hitting you,” Steve sighed tiredly

“This is bullshit!”

“What’s bullshit is you used all my yogurt to try to make your freaky smoothie! You can’t put plums in a smoothie, idiot! It doesn’t work!”

“You’re the worst.”

“You’re the worst.”

“I hate both of you.”

Tags: @aubzylynn @stephie-rowena

"What. The. Fuck."

Over years of living in a trailer park, Eddie has seen his fair share of weird shit. But this right here? This surpasses everything.

Wayne is sitting on the couch in the living room, with an actual baby in his lap and a completely deadpan expression on his face like this is something that happens every day.

"Hey, Ed. Meet Sasha Munson."

"Sasha Munson?" Eddie repeats, hoping that saying the name out loud will make this whole thing less surreal. It doesn't, so he automatically switches right into disbelieving panic mode instead. "Sasha Munson?! What the fuck? She isn't mine, I promise, it's literally impossible, someone must've - Wait, hold on - Is she yours? Aren't you like fifty years too old to knock someone up? What the fuck did you do? Who's the mother? What were you thinking, man, we can't take care of a -"

"Eddie, sit down."

"No, I'm not sitting down, this is ridiculous, what the fucking fuck, we can't -"

"She ain't mine and she ain't yours."

"What the-" It takes a few seconds before Wayne's words sink in. Then, Eddie freezes mid-sentence, giving his brain a second or two to catch up to what Wayne just said.

"Wait, what?" he asks.

He gives the sleeping baby a distrustful look. It's small - too small to be a human, if you asks Eddie. It scares him a little bit.

"Then whose is she?"

"I told ya to sit down, Ed."

And Wayne's voice is so strict and serious that Eddie can only obey.

"Your dad was here earlier."

Those few words are enough to tell Eddie exactly what happened. He immediately feels sick to his stomach. He wants to cover his ears, or walk out of the trailer and never come back. But instead, he keeps sitting, frozen in his chair, and listens to what Wayne tells him.

"Sasha is his daughter. He had this girlfriend, Melody, 'bout a year ago. She's much younger than him, is all I know 'bout her. I think they were kinda serious at the time. But Clyde went and messed it up, of course. Cheated on her. She dumped him. Then showed up again a few weeks later all sobered up and told him she was pregnant. Far as I know, things went okay for a while after that. But she caved right after she gave birth. It took a toll on her, Clyde said. So she needed the drugs again. He left her; he didn't see a way to help her and he was worried 'bout Sasha's safety. So he took Sasha with him and brought her to me. Said he couldn't take care of a baby and that was that."

It is a story eerily similar to what Wayne told Eddie about his own early years, whenever he'd ask him questions about his parents.

Eddie looks at the tiny human in Wayne's arms. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is just slightly agape. She's wrapped in a blanket that has a soft shade of pink, with tiny elephants printed across it.

"He never learns, does he?" Eddie remarks with a sigh.

"He doesn't," Wayne affirms in a soft voice, shaking his head. "But you know what, if these are the consequences of his actions..." He first looks up at Eddie, then down at the baby in his lap again. "I can't even be too mad at him for it."

"Jesus Christ, what a mess."

"Don't think too badly of him, Ed," Wayne says. "He wanted to help them. Both of 'em. But he didn't know how. He did what he thought was gonna be best for Sasha. Just like he did with you. He ain't evil. Just a coward who makes bad decisions."

Eddie swallows thickly.

"We'll make it work," Wayne says with certainty in his voice. "It'll be tight, but we'll survive. We did it before, we can do it again."

Eddie nods.

"You wanna hold her?"

He shifts uneasily. She seems so fragile. He doesn't know a single thing about babies; he is his father's son, after all, not Wayne's, no matter how much he wishes he were.

"C'mon, Ed, she's your sister."

It's only now that Eddie notices how well it fits, Wayne with a baby in his arms. Like he was made to be a father. Like Sasha belongs there. There aren't any pictures of Eddie as a baby, as far as he knows, but he imagines it must've looked somewhat like this scene: the exact same couch, a different blanket, and a younger version of Wayne. One with less wrinkles and more hair; less worn-out by the sorrows Eddie has given him over the years. It's simple for Wayne, in a way it isn't for Eddie's father, and in a way that Eddie fears it won't be for him. To hold her gently and let her sleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat. To sit with her quietly and do nothing else. To give love and patience without expecting anything in return.

Eddie rises from his chair and sits down next to Wayne on the couch. He utters a shaky breath, trying not to show his nerves, and wipes his sweaty hands over his jeans before holding out his arms.

“Just like that,” says Wayne softly while he places Sasha in Eddie's arms.

She's warm and has that specific newborn baby scent clinging around her. She's heavier than Eddie expected. She stirs a little bit and makes a tiny sound, but then she continues her peaceful sleep. He studies her: her closed eyes, her tiny nose, the way her head rolls around helplessly if he doesn't support her steadily enough; the hand that's hanging out of the blanket, with minuscule but fully developed fingers that grab around nothing. He listens to the steady sound of her breathing and imagines the tiny lungs inside her body working on pure instinct to keep her alive. His sister.

He looks up and finds Wayne staring at the two of them with tears in his eyes. He only catches Eddie's gaze for a fraction of a second, then he looks away, to the window on his right side.

“You're wrong, you know,” Eddie says.

Wayne turns his head back to him.

“Bout what?”

“She isn't his. Neither am I.” He looks up from the girl in his hands to meet Wayne's eyes. “We're both yours. He didn't do jackshit for us, just dropped us here with you and ran away. You're the one who raised me, Uncle Wayne, and that makes me yours way more than his. And Sasha? We're both gonna be here for her, every step of the way. We're gonna change her diapers and feed her milk - I don't really know anything else about babies, but we're gonna do all of that, together. We're gonna see her grow up and become a person. She's ours.”

Wayne produces a noise that sounds somewhat like a choked-off sob. He puts an arm around Eddie and drags him closer towards him. He doesn't say anything, but Eddie didn't expect him to. He understands.

Bucky knowing he’s adorable. He knows all he has to do is bat his baby blues and it'll make anyone fold instantly. He's become such a little shit about it too, because he acts so oblivious while knowing exactly what he's doing.

“For fucks sake. No. NO. Do not look at me with those puppy eyes it won’t work” Sam shook his head, refusing to look at Bucky's face while the soldier blinked innocently with a small pout on his lips.

"I didn't do anything" he shrugged, acting as if he hadn't swiped the last cookie with the evidence sprinkled on the front of his shirt.

"You're something else" Sam grumbled, rolling his eyes at the puppy like look Bucky had on his face, "You can't keep making that face and getting away with this, keep your grubby hands away from my oreos"

Sam only manages to keep up the act for so long before reluctantly opening a new box, pushing it towards the brunette who smirks, swiping another handful.

"Unbelievable"

-

"Who the hell broke another punching bag in the gym-

“He’s right behind me isn’t he” Tony deadpanned, knowing Bucky was slinking about somewhere, batting his brown lashes, making his job 100 times harder. "Barnes I swear-

The billionaire turned around to find Bucky tiptoeing around the mess he made with wide, remorseful eyes making the billionaire groan.

"Don't look at me like some dame in the 40's, that cute face won't work on me"

"Did you just call him cute"

"Shut up"

"Well, you're not wrong"

-

"Bucky you're late" you frowned as he ran over to you, dressed in all black, ready to take you to dinner.

"M'sorry doll" He pouted, burying his face into your neck, "Didn't mean to keep you waiting"

"You're doing it again, this is cheating, you can't keep acting adorable and getting away with being late to our dates" you huffed, eventually melting into his needy cuddles, missing his little naughty smirk. Of course he didn't actually mean to be late and he really was sorry but he loved when you fell for his sweet charm.

"Did you see that? That little smirk he just made" Sam hissed while Steve snorted, lowkey happy to see this version of Bucky making its way back. "He gets away with everything, it isn't fair"

"Well I think it's adorable" Nat smiled watching him dote on you while Steve hummed in agreement. "He's a little cutie"

"He's a little shit"

A chubby reader who's super self conscious of her belly and bust? Like she's strong and stuff, comes with the higher weight, but just....

Cant really wear anything unless it's sweats and a sweater, or a t-shirt. Almost never goes out.

And one day Bucky comes to the compound. Reader immediately gets a crush, and has major anxiety over it, like "leaving the room when he comes near" anxiety. Bucky thinks it's his fault, that he's done something wrong and talks to you about it.

He decides to talk to you about it, crying ensues because insecurities, and then the fluff.

Sorry this ask is so long, I'm kinda scrambled XP

hi, lovely! 💫

first of all, don't apologize for bringing this beautiful request into my world! i was beyond excited to have the chance to bring this idea to life, and i hope the direction i took with it does justice to what you had in mind!

second of all, i am so sorry this took me so long to put out, this request is so lovely and i really wanted to make it the best i could.

i hope you enjoy!

matches

pairing: bucky barnes x midsize!reader

word count: 3974

warnings: insecurities and self consciousness, mild body image issues, brief self depreciating thoughts, angst, mutual pining, fluff, swearing, allusions to mature themes, let me know if i missed anything!

please do not read this if you're not comfortable with any of the above topics. while they are not heavily focused on, they are the main theme of this fic

a/n: big thanks to @buckylattes for reading this and catching some of the dumb ass mistakes i made lmao

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

Being part of the Rescue and Reconnaissance division of Stark Industries wasn't the most glamorous job, but you loved it. You got to work nearly hand in hand with field agents every day, formulating plans for raids, rescues, infiltrations, or general takedown missions to make sure all those involved worked as safely and efficiently as possible. 

You were the one they turned to when a new plan was needed; when they were at risk. There were a few agents who refused to listen to anyone other than you when it came to these times - specifically asking for you to help them through. 

Agent Barnes was one of these people, and though you could never voice it, he was your favourite to deal with. He was always kind and courteous, understanding in the fact that despite not being in the same rankings as him, you damn well knew what you were doing. And, well, it didn't hurt that he always found a moment to be a charming little flirt. 

You have no idea why he had such faith in you. Maybe it was because you always took what he suggested into consideration when calculating next steps. Maybe it was because your ideas were as crazy as his sometimes. Maybe it was simply because he liked the sound of your voice. 

You never knew. 

You never actually met him.

All your dealings with field agents were done from the safety of your control room. You never minded it, though. It was nice, in a way. You absolutely loved doing what you do, but you would never be able to handle being around field agents all the time. Not when they look the way they do, and you…. well, you're you. 

Your thighs touch when you walk, your belly shakes when you laugh, your arms jiggle when you move. You have to painstakingly pick out the right kinds of shirts, otherwise your chest will make it seem like you're three times as big as you really are. 

You were the chubby girl who always hid in the shadows, too afraid to let the world see how bright you truly shine - you were a flame ready to ignite, but no one around you ever offered you a match. 

You were used to it. You made peace with it a long time ago, finding solace in your own company instead of relying on other people to enjoy your time with. It still bothered you from time to time, and you let yourself have days where you wallowed in it, wishing things were different, wishing you looked different. Though, for the most part, it stopped bothering you so much the older you got. 

Until the day you finally met Bucky. 

It was a strange day, being sent to the compound. You've never been sent anywhere before, always planted in your seat while talking to field agents across the world. Yet here you were, being requested by Tony Stark himself. 

You must have spent hours trying to find the right outfit. One that showed off your curves without accentuating the extra pudge around your middle. One that complimented your chest without highlighting the size. One that showed off your ass without making it look massive. One that carefully hid your arms. One that you felt comfortable in. 

It felt like your heart was in your throat the whole time. The butterflies in your stomach turned into a full on frenzy, and you had to take deep breaths every few seconds to stay calm; and to not throw up. 

You barely heard it when Tony said he wanted you working under him. You could hardly process it when he said he created a job just for you. You didn't quite understand it when he told you there was space for you at the compound, and he wanted you here full time. 

All you could do was dumbly nod your head, trying to focus on what he was saying instead of the fact that Bucky Barnes was just outside the conference room. 

By the time the meeting was over, you felt lightheaded. You clutched the contract you were given against your chest and took a final deep breath before leaving the room, hoping to get by unnoticed. It's not like he even knew who you really were, right? 

A gentle calling of your name told you that you were very, very wrong. 

Your feet became rooted in place as you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing all you could on calming your nerves before turning around. And jesus christ, nothing could have prepared you for how beautiful this man actually was in person. 

"Hi," you breathed out, a tiny shy smile gracing your lips. 

"Hi," he said, unintentionally mimicking you. 

His eyes travelled over your face before taking their time roaming your body; you shifted uncomfortably and clutched the contract a little tighter as he stayed fixed on you. A smirk graced his lips, but it was gone before you could really focus on it. 

"It's, uh-... it's nice to finally meet you, Agent Barnes," you muttered sheepishly, hesitantly offering him your hand. 

"You can call me Bucky," he said, smiling warmly as he took your hand in his, sending fire throughout your whole body. "I'd like to say thank you for saving my ass as often as you do, but thank you doesn't seem like enough."

You chuckled, feeling your face flush under his gaze. "'Thank you' suffices just fine, Bucky. I've only been doing my job."

"Speaking of," he started, tilting his head a little as he eyed the contract you held. "You gonna take it?" he asked curiously, his eyes snapping back to yours. 

"What?" you asked, caught off guard by his question.

"The job," he said, gesturing between the contract in your hands and the conference room you just occupied. "You gonna say yes?" 

"How do you know about that?" you asked curiously.

"I know things," he said passively, shrugging his shoulders. "How 'bout I show you around? You can see the place before you decide anything."

You wanted to say no. You wanted to run away and retreat into yourself once more. Though something about the way he was looking at you made it hard to do so. 

So, you agreed. 

And that's how everything started. 

You took the job, moving into the compound a few days after that. You quickly made friends with the girls, and they became your support group; they would help you when it came to shopping for clothes or finding the right outfit for events. They offered to go for walks with you or do yoga - anything you felt like doing, really. You still felt inferior to them from time to time, but not because they made you feel that way; no one at the compound did. 

Only yourself. 

When it came to the boys, it was more or less the same thing. You felt comfortable around them, and you never minded close contact or them seeing you in tighter fitting clothes. 

Everyone was family, and it never felt awkward or uncomfortable around them. 

Except for when it came to Bucky. 

You still grew closer to him over the months of you living at the compound so far, but it hasn't been easy. It was a constant challenge, and it grew harder for you day after day.

When it came to you working alongside him on his missions, everything was great. Nothing with him changed, aside from him throwing out a few more flirty comments. And, since you still had the safety net of being behind comms, you threw some right back at him. 

Once the missions were over, though, it was hard to be around him. You wanted to be around him, but it was nearly impossible. Your feelings for him grew, and the stronger your feelings were, the more distant you became. 

You were careful to only wear sweaters or loose tees paired with sweatpants around him, making sure he would never catch sight of the extra weight you carried around. You quit eating around him; it's not like you had bad eating habits, but you couldn't shake the panic that he would somehow be disgusted, that he would think the reason you're so chubby was because of your diet. You stopped sitting near him during movie nights, and you never hugged him. No matter how much you itched to wrap your arms around him when he came home safe from missions, you couldn't risk him feeling the rolls your body carried, or how soft and pudgy you were. 

It was driving Bucky crazy.

From the minute he finally set his eyes on you, he couldn't get you out of his head. He was beyond thrilled when you agreed to Stark's offer, and he couldn't wait to take the opportunity to get to know you - which was a massive step for him. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling he did something to upset you. 

He grew more confused every day. When it came to conversing over the comms during missions, you two were like a well oiled machine; giggles and flirting and jokes of previous missions. No one would ever know something was amiss. 

Yet when everyone would return home, it was like a switch was flipped. You greeted everyone with hugs and smiles and affection, and Bucky always waited patiently for his turn: but it never came. Instead, you turned to him with an awkward smile and shining eyes and gave him the traditional "welcome home, soldier" that, despite everything, always pulled a smile from his lips. 

He racked his brain every night trying to figure out if he did something, if he said something, but he could never come up with anything. He could never find a reason for the way you would some days leave the room as soon as he entered, for why you always hid away from him when he would catch you off guard in workout clothes or formal attire. He could never come up with an explanation and it was eating him alive. 

The final straw came for him on the night of Pepper’s birthday party. 

He didn’t want to go, he never wanted to go to these things, but ever since you came around he found himself more willing to at least make an appearance; if only to see you. However, he wasn’t even positive if you were going to show up this time, given the way you’ve been so distant lately - and that made him not want to go at all. So he was biding his time, sitting in the kitchen and emptying a bottle of whiskey, trying to not make it obvious that he was waiting to see if you’d wander out of your room before he slipped away to the party.

You stood in front of your mirror for what felt like hours, never before feeling more diffident as you assessed your reflection. You’ve been to some of Tony’s parties before, but this was for Pepper - it was the most grandiose one you’ve attended to date. You weren’t left much choice but to dress your fanciest, and you felt so unfamiliar with your own body as your hands trailed down the fabric of your dress. It was form fitting, hugging every curve you had and accentuating your figure in a way you weren’t used to seeing. The straps were small and the cut was low, it travelled midcalf and had a small slit up the side, showing way more of your leg than you wanted. You had a burning desire to change, but Nat insisted you looked incredible, and Wanda already applied a touch of makeup to match the dress - not to mention you were already running late as it was. 

With one last heavy sigh, you steeled yourself before slipping on your heels and marching out of your room. You thought of anything and everything you could as you marched down the hall, doing your best to pay no mind to the way you felt the fabric clinging to your body with every move you made. God, you really should have put on shapewear. 

Bucky heard you before he saw you, your footfalls echoing through the floor in the same pattern he came to memorize in the months you’ve been here. He took a deep breath, prepared for the fact that you would most likely brush him off once more. He was not prepared, though, for the sight of you as you rounded the corner. 

You were not prepared to see him sitting there, clad in a pressed suit, or for him to quite literally choke on the drink he was nursing as he took in your presence. 

“Jesus, Bucky. Are you alright?” you inquired, conflicted between staying where you stood and approaching him. 

A dismissive wave of his hand had you staying in place, your arms wrapping around your middle as you began to feel exposed to him. 

“I’m fine, I’m good,” he coughed out, refilling his glass as if nothing happened. 

You stood there quietly, completely unsure of what to do next. The silence was becoming louder and louder but you didn’t want to draw his attention to you. Not when you were looking like this. Not when he’d be able to see every curve and divot of your body, the protrusion of your stomach, the ample raise of your chest. You were really starting to regret not changing. 

“Are you gonna stand there and stare all night or head to the party?” he asked, keeping his eyes on the glass before him. His tone was playful, but his voice had a rasp to it that sent a shiver down your spine. 

“Oh, uh - sorry,” you muttered, clearing your throat as you slowly advanced in his direction. “Are, um-… are you gonna join the party?” 

He huffed a small laugh, his eyes finally raising to meet yours only to find that you were looking almost everywhere but at him, effectively wiping the small smile from his face. 

“I’m not so sure,” he said lowly, downing the contents of his glass as he kept his eyes on you. 

You hummed, looking down at your hands before chancing a glance at him; his gaze on you so intense that you immediately looked away again. 

“Well, I- I hope to see you there,” you said sincerely, wringing your fingers together. “You look really nice, Buck” you added quietly, looking up at him just long enough to flash him a warm smile before continuing through the kitchen. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he called after you, the hurt in his voice impossible to miss. 

“What?” you asked in confusion, turning to glance in his direction. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he repeated, leaning back in his chair. “Because ever since you moved in here, it’s like you can’t stand the sight of me.” 

You couldn’t help the nervous chuckle that left you, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s not true.” 

“No?” he asked, his tone taking on a new edge. “Are you sure? ‘Cause you can’t even fucking look at me right now. You practically run from me when I enter the same room, you do everything you can to avoid me, and let’s not forget the fact that I’m the only one around here who you don’t hug after getting back from missions.”

“Bucky-” you tried to explain, but the lump forming in your throat stopped you short. 

“I just wanna know what I did,” he carried on, voice softer this time. “I don’t know if you’re angry with me or- or if you’re scared of me-” 

“I am not scared of you,” you interrupted, finally meeting his gaze. “Please don’t think that.”

“What else am I supposed to think?” he asked quietly. “Everything is fine when I’m out on the field, we- I get along with you better than anyone. But then I come home, and it’s not the same.”

“It’s not-... it’s not like that, Bucky,” you whispered sadly, unintentionally looking away from him again. 

“Yeah, if you say so,” he said curtly, sighing in defeat as he filled his glass again. “Just enjoy the party, okay?”

“You’re not coming?” you asked, unable to keep the disappointment from your voice. 

“Well, you’re just gonna avoid me anyway. Might as well make it easier for you and stay here,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the twirling glass in his hands. 

“I don’t want you to think like that,” you admitted softly. “I- I don’t mean to do the things I do.”

“Then why do they happen?” he inquired, his eyes meeting yours and displaying a painful mix of hurt and confusion. 

“Because,” you started, feeling your bottom lip quiver. “I mean, look at me, Buck,” you finished, as if that was explanation enough. 

“Believe me, I’m looking,” he said gently. “And you look-... well, I wanna say you look beautiful, but that implies you don’t always look beautiful, so, I- I don’t know what I’m supposed to say,” he added, his voice so low he may as well have been speaking to himself, but you heard every word he muttered. 

“...What?” you breathed out, staring over at him. 

“What?” he questioned, glancing up to catch your eye.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat but it just kept on growing, forcing you to choke on your words. 

“Hey, wait, don’t-... okay, now I really said something wrong, right?” he asked quickly, starting to panic as he watched your eyes fill with tears. 

Shaking your head vehemently, you delicately wiped your eyes, hoping not to smudge the work that Wanda did for you. “No, you- I just didn’t expect you to say that. I-... I'm not used to hearing that." 

"You're not?" he asked, genuinely surprised. 

You almost laughed, and you probably would have if it wasn't such an embarrassing thing to admit. "No. I'm… guys don't really call girls who look like me beautiful." 

He fell silent for a minute, eyeing you carefully before shifting in his seat, resting his arms on the table.

"You know, I've been alive for a pretty long time now," he said conversationally, as if you weren't on the cusp of a breakdown. "And I've also been quite literally around the whole world in that time. Some of it I remember, some of it… not so much. But even so, do you know what the one thing I can say with complete certainty is?" 

You waited for him to go on for a moment before realizing he was actually looking for an answer. "No, what?" you manage to croak out. 

He smiled softly, relaxing in his seat again. "I have, quite literally, never met anyone as beautiful as you. And I mean in both appearance and personality." 

"But I- I'm not… I don't have the kind of body like the other women around here," you murmured, casting your gaze downwards as if you were ashamed of your words. 

"So?" he asked incredulously. "Do you seriously think that you're automatically not beautiful just because you aren't the same size as them?" 

"No, it- you can't- I'm not-" you tried to argue, but all you could get out were a few utterances before you had to choke back a sob, completely lost on how to express yourself. 

"Is this why you've been avoiding me? Have I done something to make you uncomfortable?" he asked anxiously, fighting the urge to approach you. 

"Yes. I mean no, I-" you cut yourself off with a sigh, taking a moment to consider your answer. "I've been too embarrassed to be around you. I-... I was afraid you'd be repulsed by me and that I'd lose you." 

"Repulsed by you? A woman who puts fucking goddesses to shame?" he asked in disbelief. "Did me choking on my drink earlier not prove how taken by you I am?" 

"Is that what that was?" you wondered, letting out a watery laugh. 

"Yeah, that's what that was," he confirmed with a soft chuckle. "A guy does a real life spit take when he sees the girl of his dreams looking like the focus of a goddamn renaissance painting and she doesn't even realize it," he mumbled in exasperation, yet his eyes carried a playful sparkle. 

"The girl of your dreams?" you repeated in shock, your voice a nervous whisper. 

"Was that too cliché?" he questioned, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

"Maybe a little," you said playfully, sniffling quietly. 

"I know how it feels, you know," he said softly. "To feel uncomfortable in your own body. But if you'd let me, I'll spend every day proving to you that I see you as nothing short of perfect." 

You could only nod, giving him a weak smile as you fought back a wave of tears. "Yeah, I-... I could do that, too," you agreed quietly. 

He grinned softly, greedily taking in your appearance once more before tearing his eyes away. "Come on," he urged, downing his drink before standing up. "You owe me about seven dances." 

"Where does that number come from?" you asked with a laugh, watching as he approached you. 

"For how many parties you snubbed me at so far," he replied casually, stopping as he stood before you. 

"I never snubbed you," you grumbled, peering up at him. 

"Sure you didn't," he teased, carefully wiping the tears from your face. 

"Do I still look okay?" you asked nervously, fidgiting slightly under his touch. 

"Gorgeous as ever," he replied sincerely. 

You couldn't help but grin, laughing a little anxiously. "Okay. Come on, or else we won't have enough time for all those dances." 

Bucky laughed happily, taking your hand and rushing to join the party, having you giggling in his wake as you did your best to keep up. 

You let him whisk you away for the rest of the night, leading you through all the dances you owed him; and a few more, for good measure, as Bucky put it. 

He stayed true to his word, and there wasn't a second that you spent with him where you didn't feel like the most ravishing woman to walk the earth.

Especially when he took his precious time in the dark of the night to memorize and worship every inch of your body over and over again.

So as you sat here now, watching from across the room as he danced with the crowd, you couldn't help but feel foolish. Foolish for letting your thoughts take away the extra time you could have had with him, foolish for ever thinking this incredible man would ever judge you for something so trivial. Foolish, foolish, foolish. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" you heard from beside you, ripping you from your reverie.  

You turned your head, grinning as you saw the very man himself had taken up the seat to your left. "What, get tired of dancing already, old man?" 

He gasped, feigning offense as he took in your words. "I'd watch who you're calling old, sweetheart," he warned playfully. 

"I'd watch who you're calling sweetheart. I happen to be a married woman now, you know," you replied jovially.

"Married, huh? Should've known I didn't stand a chance," he lamented, shaking his head. "How about a pity dance?" he suggested with a grin, holding his hand out to you. 

You giggled softly, taking his hand with a grin of your own. "Lead the way, Mr. Barnes." 

"Anything for you, Mrs. Barnes," he replied with a wink, leading you to the dance floor. 

And just like he did three years ago, he whisked you away and led you through a whole seven dances; and a few more, for good measure. 

You were a flame, finally ignited, and Bucky was your match.

Zack and Cody showing up at that restaurant at 7:30pm tonight: