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Wish Book (Marvel Oneshots)

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Distant thunder pulled you from your restless sleep.

Eyes open, heart hammering beneath the sheets, you laid still and tried to remember where you were; what was real. Above you the shadows on the ceiling danced and swayed with the flutter of your room’s sheer curtains, like an otherworldly kaleidoscope that someone else was twisting as you watched. At the edge of your gaze you could see lightning through the window, glinting in the reflection of the glass as it flashed in far-off, but fast moving clouds.

Deep breaths.

The dream-the erratic, violent images that haunted your sleep began to fade, and the invisible weight that rested on your chest seemed to lift.

You were here, in the Avenger’s compound, years and miles away from the darkness that still played on repeat in your mind. You were safe.

But even so, your muscles were still coiled under the blankets, fists clenched and instinct holding your body tight like a spring-ready to fight- ready to run. It took conscious effort to loosen the tension and a dull ache remained, as though you had been struggling for the majority of the night.

Minutes ticked past.

The shadows kept twisting. The thunder grew closer.

Your skin itched with sweat; your hair was sticky and matted at the nap of your neck, all around adding to the discomfort that had settled within you. Your nightgown was damp and beneath it so was the scratchy cotton of the fitted sheet, as if you had gone to bed soaking wet.

Unable to close your eyes, painfully aware of the abyss that waited for you if you managed to fall back asleep, you gradually untangled yourself from the now overly warm cocoon.

You caught your breath as the cool air rushed over you, bare toes curling as they touched the chilly floor. Rising slowly, you looked down at your sweat-ruined gown. It was the fourth one this week alone…

Pushing down your frustration, you opted for a loose fitting t-shirt and a pair of boy shorts, having dwindled down your supply of PJs into nothing but a few skimpy numbers or absurdly warm flannels with cheesy holiday prints on them.

The change of clothing did little to ease the disquiet that still lingered beyond the nightmare- the memories. The room was stifling, and another roll of thunder spurred you out into the hallway.

In the doorway of the main level you hesitated, a sense of apprehension manifesting as a shiver slipping up and down your spine. Tentatively you peered around the doorframe.

The complex’s shared living room was empty and silent, lit only by the glow from the scattered step lights and the oncoming storm.

You let out a long breath through your nose.

No phantoms… no ghosts...

With unnecessarily quiet footsteps you made your way past the tasteful, but expensive leather couches and mahogany end tables, to the wall of glass that opened up to one of the base's grander balconies.

Dark clouds roiled and swirled overhead as lightning arced through them, splitting the sky in jagged flashes of electric blue. Like perfect clockwork the first drops of rain began to fall, the panes ringing with the onslaught as the drizzle quickly became a downpour.

The sound of the rain washed over you like a wave-soothing, familiar -encompassing you in such a strong feeling of longing that your eyes fell closed, and behind them a movie reel played.

Laughter. The rhythmic sound of the ocean. Warm rain and sand beneath your toes. A woman with eyes that look just like yours. Her arms around your shoulders while you thread string through tiny seashells.

For the second time that night, it was the break of thunder that brought you back.

You blink your eyes open again, and find that your gaze is fixed on the beads of water sliding down the glass, pooling together as they leave rivulets in their wake.

The thought of a shower occurred to you, a small itching at the back of your neck and the sight of the rain reminding you of your sweaty, sticky predicament.


Slowly, you look up and out beyond the glass, at the cascade of drops pouring from the sky.

It's like a shower, isn't it?

Without realizing it you reached out for the handle of the balcony door, too busy rationalizing the reasoning to yourself, as if you had to convince some skeptical half of you the whys , because only crazy people go out in the driving rain in pajamas so they can feel clean .

…Maybe this will help me feel comfortable in my own skin again.


In a blind panic you ripped your hand from the door and wheeled around with a stifled curse. Wide eyed, fingers splayed over your frantically beating heart, you looked up and met Steve Roger’s concerned gaze.

“Steve…” You sighed, shaking your head and blushing crimson with embarrassment.

It could’ve been worse. It could’ve been Tony, who never would’ve let you live it down that you, the mistress of zen herself, had been startled like a preteen girl in a cheap haunted house. Or Thor, with his booming laugh, who would probably make a ridiculous comparison between you and some Asgardian creature or another that spooked easily. Even Nat would give you some form of grief.

Instead you were staring into the stark (ha!) blue eyes of the team’s resident super soldier… and there was no humor in his stare.

“God, I’m sorry. You scared me…” You said softly as you dropped your hands to the hem of your t-shirt. “I didn’t hear you.”

“You ok?” He asked, a brow raised and jaw set as he studied your face.

You’d seen that expression before; once in broad daylight when Clint was shot through the side, and again when Tony’s suit malfunctioned and sent him plummeting to the earth. You had only ever been on the receiving end of it a handful of times, and each one involved the memory of blood and your life flashing before your eyes. You saw it most often during the missions no one wanted to talk about when they came home, the really dangerous, ugly ones that came with long shadows and no-win scenarios.

It made you all the more self-conscious that he was giving it you now , in a definitely not dire situation with no broken bones or gunfire; like there was something wrong instead of just a casual grin and a joke about you being jumpy. If it was anyone else…

“Yeah, I’m ok.” You said finally. Almost imperceptibly Steve’s eyes narrowed and you shifted your gaze nervously between the storm outside and him.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

“The thunder woke me up.” You explained, which was true enough. “What about you?”

“Bad dreams.” His voice had an edge to it, but the tone dropped away as he started walking toward you. “You looked like you were about to go outside.”

Your blush deepened, the record player in your head screeching to a halt as you fumbled for some excuse that didn’t make you sound like a lunatic. How long had he been standing there?! Sure, you had a reputation when it came to inclement weather. Several pairs of swampers were stashed around the complex in the event that there would be puddles to jump in, and there was that silly red sled you kept in one of the coat closets just in case.

But this?

“Cell phone!” You blurted out suddenly.

Steve flashed you a bewildered expression as he came to stand beside you. Your hands went from fidgeting with your shirt to knotting in it.

“I woke up and couldn’t find my cell phone. I thought I might’ve left it out on the balcony earlier.” That was plausible, right? Right. You laughed weakly. “Didn’t even think about a, uh, raincoat.”

Silently Steve stared out the window, his gaze distant, charming face pensive. You found yourself looking at the oak floor intently, wondering if he was going to call your bluff and wishing you could run away without him noticing.

You weren’t the type to hide things. You never had any reason to. But there was a great deal that you just conveniently never brought up, as though keeping those skeletons in the closet might magically make them disappear.

You’d been part of the Avengers long enough to trust them, and they you, yet there was still a part of everyone’s lives that stayed under the radar and out of the zone of conversation. There was a familial love between all of you at times. How could there not be? But the unspoken rule remained the same, that everyone seemed to have pieces of themselves they wished to keep hidden, and prying into those places was a rare occurrence.

“You shouldn’t go out in that storm alone.”

Your eyes snapped up and found Steve’s in the reflection of the glass. He was watching you, probably had been watching you the entire time you’d had your head down.

The double meaning behind his words was like a sucker punch, and the way he spoke them was even worse; in that tenor voice, with that unwavering look.

Against your will your mask slipped, the light hearted, childish facade giving way for a fraction of a second and you knew that Steve saw it, was maybe even counting on it.


The question echoed in your mind, never making it past your lips as you tried to recount some reason, some clue as to why he was suddenly-suddenly what? Trying to get you to open up to him? Reminding you he was your friend and you weren’t alone? What?

Confusion made you knit your brow.

“It’s only rain.” You countered quietly, not knowing where the words even came from.

Steve’s shoulder brushed yours; warm, solid.

“No.” He corrected. “It’s damn near a hurricane.”

Your head lifted of its own accord, angling up to bring your gaze to his face, away from his reflection and into sky blue. The intensity of his stare was no less, but his expression had softened.

“Besides,” he gave you a crooked smile, “someone has to be there to give you CPR when you get struck by lightning.”

Bewildered, out of words, you tried to say something- anything -but suddenly Steve was grabbing your hand with one of his own, and opening the balcony door with the other.

The first drops of rain that hit your skin were cold, making you gasp, as you were pulled out into the storm. A flash of lightning illuminated the super soldier in front of you, his grey t-shirt already beginning to cling to his broad frame, bangs dripping as he tossed you a reassuring smile over his shoulder.

Somewhere inside of you a lock slid out of place and a thousand little moments played out in your head.

The alleyway is a tight fit, but you manage. Your body is pressed against Steve’s chest and he’s smiling about something, but you don’t get to ask what because your target is rounding the corner and he tells you it’s time to move.

On the quinjet, headed home, bruised and battered, but in one piece. You open your book and hope it will carry you off somewhere far away. Suddenly a bloodied Captain America is sitting across from you, and there’s a darkness in his eyes. It’s only when his legs are outstretched and resting against yours does he fall asleep. When you land he thanks you, but you don’t know what for.

A lazy Sunday morning and you find you’re too short to reach the coffee mug in the cabinet, and with a laugh Steve slides up behind you, with a hand on your waist, and gets it for you.

Movie night, and it’s a horror flick that makes your stomach churn so you slip away to read instead. Steve joins you, sketch book in hand. Somehow, the quiet is comfortable. You fall asleep and wake up covered in a blanket.

Steve had brought you to the furthest end of the balcony, away from the door and the dark, sleeping world behind the glass. You hadn’t even realized he’d lead you this far.

He was still holding your hand, but now he loomed in front of you.

“Is this what you were looking for?”

Butterflies danced in your stomach, your heart skipping beats as panicked thoughts whirled through your head. The feeling of your hand in his made it hard to think- had he done that before? Held your hand? Did you hide that in the closet with the other skeletons too? Pass it off as a figment of your imagination?

“Is this what you were looking for?” You echoed his words back to him shakily.

The Avenger in you was unwilling to stay on the ropes, on the defensive. If worlds were going to be turned upside down, yours would not be the only one. You wanted to accuse him of pulling this out of the blue, but the more you turned it over in your mind, the more you realized it wasn’t.

There was that smile again, those cerulean eyes glinting as he stared down at you- God, was he really that tall?

“Not quite.” Steve answered honestly and you involuntarily shivered when you heard the darker tone in his voice. “But it’s close.”

In one deliberate motion he drops your hand and catches you around the waist with his arm, pulling you into him so that you’re flush against his chest. On instinct your hands land on his shoulders, breath hitching in your throat as suddenly your face is only centimeters from his.

The world narrowed to him, to the warmth of his shoulders under your fingers, the way his lips were parted ever so slightly, and how he was looking at you -the same way he did at Natasha’s birthday party, when you wore that little blue dress, or when he caught you thumbing through Hot Rod magazine, and you had innocently told him you had a thing for American muscle- things you devoted to memory, but refused to think about.

There was a second’s hesitation, as if he was waiting for you to shove him away- last chance -but instead you tilted your head to the side and leaned up.

That was all the permission Steve needed.

His mouth was on yours in a heartbeat, powerful and unrelenting. He kissed you deeply, with a kind of heat that had your fingers knotting in the soaked cotton of his shirt. His teeth nipped at your lower lip, a hand coming up to tangle in your hair.

Steve kissed the same way he fought; skillful, intense as he adapted to the change in your breath and the stroke of your tongue against his when you opened your mouth to let him in. There’s no fight for dominance because you yield to him immediately and he takes the opportunity to set a pace that’s wild and on the fringes of desperate.

His grip on your waist tightened and you’re reminded that there’s a super soldier beneath your hands; that every line of your body is pressed against. You fit there, in the curve of his body.  You whimpered as his fingers brushed the back of your neck.

You hardly noticed him backing up, bringing you with him as he braced himself against the slender railing of the balcony. But when his thigh suddenly shifted between your legs you became acutely aware of where he had taken you and why, and a muted moan slipped from your lips as a shiver of pleasure danced up your spine.

Steve’s hand fell from your hair, sliding down to the hem of your drenched shirt and slipping beneath it. His calloused palm glided over the soft skin of your sides, your back, your stomach. He traced your scars and the curve of your hips, before following the long, vertical lines of your body up to your chest, all the while keeping you locked in a searing kiss.

You were both embarrassed and grateful that you hadn’t worn a bra, but the ability to think abandoned you as he gently kneaded one of your breasts while simultaneously tilting his thigh upward to press against that warm, wet heat that had you gasping into his mouth.

Without warning he drew back, just enough so that he could stare down at you with a dark gleam in his eyes. That look made you shiver-made you moan even more as his thumb dragged across your sensitive nipple.

“You’re beautiful, doll.” His voice was low, husky, and somehow louder than the storm.


Memories sprang to your mind, of handfuls of moments when he had used that name for you. “Cookies are not considered breakfast, doll.” “What’s wrong, doll?” “Hey, doll.”

Not babe, not sexy, not princess-as Tony often mockingly called you. Doll.

A breath passed, as if he was letting his admission sink in; like the silence might convey the weight of it- that he thought you were beautiful, had always thought you were beautiful- before he dropped his mouth to your neck. Lips, tongue, and teeth laved at your soft skin, and you didn’t need to see to know that he’d left behind a trail of scarlet and purple bruises in his wake- the only proof that this wasn’t a dream.

Your hands became fists clenched in his shirt and you found yourself panting against the junction of his shoulder, quaking like a newborn foal as he palmed your breasts and assaulted your throat. In what felt like seconds he had figured out where you were most sensitive and it reminded you of the way he found your weaknesses when you would spar-that fraction of a second pause where he gauged your reaction and adjusted accordingly.

And here, as on the mat, you were at his mercy.

Steve suddenly drew back again, just as his arm that was holding fast around your waist dropped away, only to tuck itself beneath the backs of your thighs. In one fluid motion you were in the air, as if you were feather light. Instinctually you wrapped your legs around his waist, though not because you were afraid of falling, but to keep him against you.

His pace faltered as he held you above him, his gaze turning up to meet yours. It was only then, in the flashing, violent light of the storm that you could see the sliver of sapphire around the wide, dark pools of his pupils. You could feel his chest heaving between your legs, and you realized he was panting just as heavily as you. The moment of reprieve made you tremble-reminded you that this was real-that his heart was beating wildly beneath your palm because of you.

There was something in his stare-a question-he wanted permission, again .

“Please.” You breathed out the word like a prayer, as the memory of every stolen glance, lingering touch, and childish daydream overwhelmed you. Please, don’t let me go.

Steve looked at you like you had just done something dangerous.

But the desire in your eyes didn’t leave him room for any doubt.

With little grace you fell forward into him, catching his lips again. A pleased growl rumbled from his throat as his grip on you tightened enough that you were sure there would be bruises. For a split second you wondered how long he had been waiting for this-for you to see what had been there so plainly, to get a clue- but he left you no time to feel guilty as his fingers dipped beneath the band of your panties.

You were already so dizzy you didn’t realize he had turned around, not until the cold steel railing of the balcony met your skin as Steve set you down against it. The super soldier swallowed your whimper at the feeling of the chilly, unforgiving brace, and his frantic kiss lulled into a tender caress, as if he was apologetic. But you nipped at his bottom lip boldly, unwilling to stop-the discomfort of your seat the furthest thing from your mind as you begged with your hands for his attention.

He untangled your legs from him just long enough to strip your underwear from you, before the wide angle of his hips was pressed back between your thighs, while one of his hands gripped tight at your waist. Again he pulled his head back, only to stare down at you as his finger grazed against the edge of that pulsing, wet heat.

You let out a sharp whine at his touch, your eyes snapping up to his and the look he was giving you sent tendrils of warm pleasure down your spine, twisting deep inside you deliciously.

“I want to watch your face, doll.”

He didn’t give you the chance to speak before he slid that same finger inside you, letting his palm come to rest against the most sensitive part of your flesh. Something between a scream and a shrill moan was ripped from your throat as your nails scraped at what little skin you could reach beneath the collar of his t-shirt.

You writhed against him, head thrown back, eyes closed; rain pouring rivers down your already soaked skin. Over your own voice and the storm you hear Steve groan as he works you, adding a second finger when he feels like you’re ready. His other hand anchored you, keeping your hips still as he flicks his wrist and curls his fingers. White flashes behind your eyelids, not lightning this time, but the thunder is right behind.

“Steve-” You choked out his name, clawing at his shoulders-his shirt-wherever you can find purchase.

“C’mon, doll.” He growled above you. “Cum for me.”

His name became your mantra as you plummeted over the edge- embarrassing, how quickly he made you -trembling in his arms as wave after wave passes of white hot pleasure passes through you. He held you in the palm of his hand,loosening his grip and allowing you to buck and grind against him until the pinpricks of stars blinding your vision begin to fade.

Breathless, shaking, you slowly opened your eyes to look up at him.

Steve’s lips were parted, his blonde hair dyed dark with the rain. His gaze traced your face, as if he were devoting it to memory-savoring it, as he brought his hand to the back of your neck and pulled you forward to rest your forehead against his.

The feeling of his heaving, warm breaths fanning your face sent your thoughts wild, memories playing over and over on repeat-all the details you missed, you ignored, because there was no way Captain America could ever fall for you.

“Are you sure-”

You didn’t let him finish, but closed the gap and whispered against his lips. “Haven’t you waited long enough?”

That’s all it takes.

His eyes flashed. One of his hands snatched at your hip, the other quickly freeing himself from his drenched sweat pants.

You didn’t bother with trying trying to peel off his shirt; too caught up in the moment-in the storm raging around you and within you to try to pry the soping material away. That didn’t matter. Being filled mattered-having him inside of you mattered.

The first thing you feel is the bulk of his length against you-hot, thick, and you whimper desperately at the contact. Then without warning it was the stretching-splitting open wide to take him, in one long, deliberate motion that made you cry out everything from the super soldier’s name to broken pleas.

“Shit, doll-” His voice was broken, ragged as he sank into you, his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of your hips-keeping you in place.

It burned, ached, but it was like a blazing fire that cleansed and warmed as it went- and it was so perfect and tight and you could feel him throbbing inside of you and no dream would ever match this.

He was so deep that you could feel the cold drenched fabric of his sweatpants against the very tops of your inner thighs, making you hyper aware of the duality between the fevered pitch of his body and the biting chill of the rain.

For a long moment he held still, as if he were reveling in the feeling of you clenched around him, wrapped around every inch of him.

It was too much and not enough all at once, and the look in Steve’s hazy eyes told you he felt the same.

Without warning he rolled his hips and his name was ripped from your throat in a half-scream. His hands shifted you, pulling you impossibly closer and tilting you back as he pulled out just far enough to thrust in again. Your nails dug crescents into his skin as he dipped you over the railing, out over the empty space that separated you from a five story drop. He held you out over that precipice as he rocked into you, groaning words of adoration and encouragement against your neck.

Despite the thin railing being your only leverage, you rose to meet him-arching your back and laying out over the darkness; trusting-knowing that he would never let you fall.

Steve growled with satisfaction as you matched his pace, somehow opening further to him, driving him deeper.

Your gaze lifted skyward as he hit that spot that sent pleasure spiraling out from the base of your spine. Above you the clouds swirled, the rain cascading down on you both as lightning cut jagged white through the blackness. Your heart pounded with the thunder-with that next thrust that made your toes curl, and all you could think is that you wanted this to last forever- but you’re so close already.

You shifted so you could see Steve’s face-to the wild, hungry look in his eyes. The words try to form on your lips, but all that came out was a shrill cry as he drove into you again and again. But he leaned forward, like he knew what you were trying to tell him, balancing you precariously over that edge.

His voice was broken and low.

“Together, doll.”

And you fall-not from his arms, but into them, whispering his name over and over as you clung to him while everything went heavenly blank and white.

Wave after wave carried you against him, and somehow over your own bliss you felt him tense, his grip bruising your skin as he plunges desperately into you.

“Fuck, (Y/N)-that’s my girl-” was what spilled from his throat as he pulled you up and against him, rising as that burst of warmth filled you, and slowly slipped from between your legs to wash away with the rain.

It takes several heartbeats for you to be able to see, to even breath, but the strong hold around you kept you grounded, brought you back to the super soldier that was tangled up in your arms.

Steve’s head had fallen to your shoulder. He panted against your skin, one of his hands winding its way into your hair. In return your fingers danced lightly along his back, tracing his ribs, his spine through dark wet cotton of his shirt. He hummed appreciatively before slowly pulling back to stand straight.

His hands lifted you gently and easily from the railing, bringing you down, and he wound an arm around your waist as you tried to hold your own weight with shaking legs. There would be a mark on your rear where the steel had dug in, but you didn't care.

“(Y/N)...” The way he spoke your name made your heart flutter, but his voice was laced with apprehension, as were his eyes as they glittered down at you.

There was the boy scout you knew-worried that he had gone too fast, done too much. You could hear his next words in your mind. ‘Should’ve courted you first, brought you flowers; had dinner. Taken things slow.’

You shook your head, not letting him get any further. With a quivering hand you reached up to cup his cheek.

There would be time to take things slow later… when the nightmares were much further away, when the need to be touched, to feel clean wasn’t so pressing. You tried to convey as much of those thoughts as you could with your eyes as you smiled up at him.

“Thank you.”

Steve raised a brow, as though that wasn’t what he was expecting to hear. He angled his head down and smoothed your wet hair back from your face as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. The nervousness faded from his touch.

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”

You felt his lips quirk upward.

There was more you wanted to say-to ask, but a wave of exhaustion swept over you and you sank further into his embrace.

“I should get you inside before you catch a cold.” He said softly. He turned up a palm to feel the rain, which had become a slow drizzle. You hadn't even noticed...

Laughter bubbled from you. You leaned up to nudge your nose against his.

“I hope your stealth skills are on par with your hand to hand, because sneaking back in is going to be a challenge.”

Steve smirked. “If I can break into Hydra I can get you back to my room undetected.”

His room.

You closed your eyes as butterflies danced in your stomach.

“My hero.” You quipped softly.

“I'd like to be, doll.”

His sapphire eyes met yours and the sincerity in them left a lump in your throat.

“You've got the job, Captain.” You whispered hoarsely.

Steve closed the distance between you again, his lips gliding over yours so gently it made you shake.

“I won't let you down, ma'am.”

In the distance the thunder rolled.