Steve Rogers And Bucky Barnes Images

Birthday

Warnings - Steve's kinda a dick in this (what's new?), Angsty, blood, description of trauma (Steve's trauma finally gets voiced!) There's some fluff. Somewhere 🤷‍♀️

Request by Soldier15MS

(I hope this was good enough and I'm sorry if I missed anything. I'm sure I most likely did. Just let me know!!)

Requests are always open! Just DM me or Comment!

Gentle lips. Gentle, rough hands. The moon filters in through the window as you shift to your boyfriend's body to find the warmth you hadn't even missed, just wanted more of. His touches are skillfully placed, breaths even and body just as warm as you knew as your hands rub up his chest.

"Hi, Sweetheart." There's a deepness you absolutely adore as you find yourself getting lost in the sheets, allowing his arms to pull you closer. You sigh, nodding into the comfort of your shared bed. He chuckles while pushing hair behind your ear, his wandering eyes taking notice of your peaceful state.

"Just a fe..." you mumble, already going back to sleep in the middle of your sentence. He smiles wider, not daring to not fulfill your request as he kisses your forehead with gentle lips.

"Whenever you want," he promises, curling his arms around you tightly. He's surprised when you sit up a little, your eyebrows furrowed as you look around. "What's wrong?" He asks. He cups your cheek, trying to direct your attention, but you sit up fully.

"What're you doing awake?" You spin around and grab the clock from the nightstand. "Steve, it's only been two hours, what's going on?" Instinctively, your fingers drag through his hair, already finding sweat beaded along his scalp. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry."

"It's nothing—"

"Steve, you don't have to hide from me." Cupping his cheek in the small of your palm, you finally feel his head tilt towards your touch. Fresh tears cascade down his face in the moonly light, and you peck his lips while wiping them away with your thumb. "Talk to me, honey," you whisper, gliding your hand through his hair again.

Steve takes a shuttering breath, his arms tightening around your middle as he pulls you closer to his side of the bed like before. "I just—I left so many people behind with New York at stake. I could've helped so many more, or stopped Hydra to help Bucky. What—What if I have to do it again, and I'll leave you? Or the team—The whole world again—"

"Shh, Steve," you coo softly, sitting up to rest your back against the headboard. "None of that matters right now," you tell him. The lost look in his eyes scream the complete opposite, lips pouted and cheeks wet with salty tears. But you love all of it, kissing his nose and cheeks and lips.

"What you did in 1945 saved the world. Whatever problems New York was having at the time hadn't been something you could've stopped all together. Hell, we're still having the same problems. You sacrificed yourself for the greater good, and I love you for that. I love you for everything. This job doesn't ensure safety, but your actions do. Whatever it takes to save people is whatever measure all of us are willing to go. The world won't be safe in a million years, but that doesn't mean any of us aren't willing to try and change a few aspects."

His eyes dance around, pooling with another set of tears as he shakes his head. "I just—" he stumbles, trying hard to look you in the eye when his lips purse. "I don't want to lose you. I don't like knowing you can't come back from a mission—"

"Steve," you push, stopping him from spiralling down the rabbit hole. "You can't help that. I could die in two hours from a heart attack, or not wake up tomorrow. Anything is possible, you just have to push through it. The only way I will ever leave you is through death, and I'm not planning on dying any time soon. And I hope you're not either."