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#captain America fanfic
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Safe Place | Steve Rogers
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 -> Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader
𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 -> It’s your and Steve’s anniversary but he looks kinda distracted, when he has a nightmare he tells you what’s going on in his mind.
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 -> 846
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 -> (T) PTSD, Bucky falling from the train, nightmare, angst, fluff
𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 -> hili! I was thinking on maybe a one-shot with this one? Maybe Steve and his girl meeting on the Smithsonian? and a few months later when the relationship is going well, she helps with him a nightmare bc of his PTSD? Steve is pretty shaken up and only her can calm him down? Maybe he had a nightmare from when Bucky fell of the train and just keeps getting worse and worse? @rogersbarber
𝐀/𝐍 -> Thank you for the idea for that oneshot. Enjoy and hope you like what I made with it.
𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 -> 10 Years Anniversary CA:TWS | March 26 | Theme: On your left | The Smithsonian, First Meetings, Endurance, Mission, PTSD, Favourite Quote | @catws-anniversary
Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist
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"Either one of you know where the Smithsonian is? I'm here to pick up a fossil," Natasha says with a smirk, looking out of the window of her car. Steve rolls his eyes and groans, frustrated, while Sam bursts out laughing.
They just finished their morning run, and Steve was once again faster than the dark-haired man. He just passed the other man, smirking and saying his favorite morning line, while Sam tried to convince him with a lot of no's not to say that line. 'On your left.' Steve said and ran faster, around the corner. Sam tried his best to run after Steve, but he was way slower than the super soldier. Now they are standing next to each other under a tree, looking at Natasha, who waits for Steve. The blond man smirks at Sam and makes his way to the car, opening the door, and then he gets into it.
"Come on, Grandpa. Don't have the whole day," she says, rolling her eyes playfully.
Steve nods towards Sam. When he closes the door and looks out of the window, Sam laughs and nods back.
"Can't walk everywhere," Steve says before Natasha drives away.
// Divider //
After the mission they had that day, Steve went another day to the Smithsonian; he heard a lot from there, and then he was back, back in the 40's, back where the small boy from Brooklyn turned into Captain America. When Steve walked a few meters through the museum, a little boy immediately recognized him, and his small eyes widened. The boy started smiling, but before he could tell his parents about Captain America in the Smithsonian, Steve lifted his finger and held it in front of his lips, showing the boy to be quiet. Later that day, Steve accidentally crashed into you. You threw your whole coffee over his shirt, and he asked you out to get a new one. After that, the two of you dated each other, got closer and closer, and now you're living with him in a small apartment.
Every anniversary, the two of you go out to the Smithsonian and get a coffee in the coffee shop you did when you first met. So you did today, but something was different. Steve wasn't as happy as he used to be. He stood the whole time in front of the memorial with Bucky and watched the movies a few times. Steve's eyes were red and teary when you went back home, but when you asked him what was wrong, he just said he was fine. You're lying next to him in bed, staring at the ceiling, while you listen to the heavy breaths of your boyfriend. He turns from one side to the other, and sweat covers his forehead.
"Stevie? Wake up; you're fine. It's just a nightmare," you mumble and turn yourself toward him.
You let your fingers slide through his hair, moving them out of his face, while you lean closer to kiss him softly. Steve groans softly, opening his eyes slowly. His eyes are red, and some tears fall down his cheek. Before you can say something, he sobs quietly. His hands are clinging to the sheets when he looks through the room before he looks at you.
"Princess?"
"Yes, I'm here."
Steve sighs softly, running his hand through his hair. Then he inhales deeply and grips you by your waist, pulling you on top of him. You place your chin on his broad chest, looking up at Steve.
"Do you want to tell me what happened in your dream?" Steve inhales deeply, closing his eyes for a moment before he exhales and opens his eyes again.
Even when it's dark, you can see his steel-blue eyes. The room was slightly brightened by the moon.
"It was- Bucky was there; we were on the train, and then there was the big guy, and Bucky was suddenly thrown out of the train. He was clinging there- there at the edge of the train and tried to reach for his hand, but I-I just didn't get it, and he fell," Steve says, and you kiss his chest, calming him down slowly. "A-And since that one mission, I-I feel like I heard someone mention that Hydra found a man in the Alps in the 40's. And they said he is now the most powerful weapon from Hydra. The Winter Solider. B-Bucky could be He could be alive. I need to find him.”
You move your hand over his shoulders, his heart racing against his ribcage.
"We will find him, but first you need to calm down. Then we eat breakfast, and then we're talking with Nat and Sam to get more information about the Winter Soldier." Steve smirks, leaning closer to capture your lips with his before he kisses your nose.
"That's why I love you, princess."
"I love you too," you mumble and bite into his chest, making him laugh and causing him to tickle you.
You're his biggest supporter, the one woman he really loves; you're his home, his safe place.
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𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐭𝐨
𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬.
┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛
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Taglist: @kandis-mom @sergeantbarnessdoll @identity2212 @km-ffluv @lunaalovesyouu @blackhawkfanatic @armystay89 @suz7days @felicitylemon @cjand10 @lives-in-midgard @casa-boiardi @cevansbaby-dove @flstrawberry @capsbestgirl77 @bookishtheaterlover7 @rogersbarber @sebastianstanisahotmf
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IF YOU’RE TOO SHY (LET ME KNOW)- S.G ROGERS
Pairing:  Uni! Nerd! Steve x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 2.6k
Summary: you’re the new girl at school, and the more steve rogers sees you, the more his crush grows. after a few weeks of texting, a date is set. but he doesn't hook up on the first date, because that's not being a gentleman. right? 
Warnings: SMUT, pure filth, praise kink, slight degradation, daddy kink, spanking, cum play, dry humping, dirty talk, manhandling, petnames, swearing, biting/ marking, size kink, but lots of fluff :))
“maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes, im not playing with you baby- i think that you should give it a go. she said, maybe i would like you better if you took off your clothes... i wanna see and stop thinking if youre too shy, then let me know”- if youre too shy (let me know), the 1975
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“She's so beautiful Buck. You’ll just love her.” Steve insisted, baby blues all wide and excited, cheeks tinted pink as he ran his hands through his blonde locks, tugging on the strands a bit harder than he’d normally- the butterflies plaguing his muscles. 
He had never felt so in love, and he hadn't even talked to you in person yet. It was a sickness, the love drunk that had occurred, no amount of Advil or water the cure to the hangover. 
Bucky was sick of him. He was sure of it. 
He had blabbed about you for weeks now, seeming to go in a daze as he’d ramble on. Mhmm. Well, just talk to her after class Steve! 
He’d just shake his head. He couldn't just do that! How could he? You were so alluring, a siren calling him out from sea. Steve just couldn't… the courage he had always had seeming to come to a halt. It was abrupt, a deer in headlights as he watched you walk into the lecture hall. 
The new girl. Full of spunk and energy, a bright smile on your face as you looked around the room, meeting his eye. He offered you a small smile, a little wave before you found your place near the front. 
You matched his energy well. So well, he was scared you weren't even real. Her name is Y/N. You want her number or something? His friend Natasha had asked him earlier that month, nudging his shoulder to gather his attention again. Sorry. Yes, please. He was too busy daydreaming about you again, gaze drifting off to the endless rows of books in the old library. 
Steve had been anxious to send the text, his endless pacing back and forth enough to drive Bucky straight up the wall. He had never seen the man so nervous. Especially over a girl. 
Should I do it? What do I say? Is this weird? Shut the fuck up already and send something Rogers you're driving me insane. He had replied, smacking a pillow over his head to tune Steve out. He gathered his wits about him, taking a deep breath before he hit send.
 hey, it’s steve, from tuesdays class. not sure if you remember me, but i’m the blonde who waved lol. i got your number from a friend, hope thats okay:) 
There. He had done it! Now was the waiting. But it didn’t last long, as his phone buzzed in his pocket only a few minutes later. 
hey you! yes yes, i remember. i’m Y/N <3 
I know, he wanted to say. Instead, he acted dumb. Dumb and sweet was the way to your heart he found out later, all the sweet messages and daily photos of each other's day blossomed into something more than just classmates. 
But he still hadn't talked to you in person yet. And he knew you were too shy to say anything first- so it was just a waiting game. Finally, all these days later- he had asked you on a date. 
Nothing major. Nothing fancy. Just coffee, and a walk around the villa. Simple and fun, Bucky had reassured, thankful his best friend had finally made the move. He was blind if he thought you weren't into him. Blind and stupid. 
Bucky walked with him now, bundling his jacket tighter around himself as the slight breeze ruffled his hair. It was a cool evening, but not freezing- a perfect happy medium for the season. 
“I’m sure she is. Since you never seem to shut up about her.” Bucky teased, resulting in a smack across the arm from Steve. 
“I’m serious man. I’m just so anxious about this. What if she actually like.. hates me or something?”
 “Impossible. And if anything goes wrong, I’m just three blocks away.” Bucky shrugged, as Steve’s phone buzzed.
five mins away :)
“She’s almost here.” he sighed, starting to fidget with his rings as Bucky dropped him off at the cafe's doors. He had never felt this tense before a date, which he knew meant he really, really liked you. The countless times he had stalked your social media and hours of sleep he lost due to waiting to hear back from you had proved that. 
So what could possibly go wrong? 
 “Well get a table, talk about the weather- and it’ll be all good from there.”
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“And so I told him no, because like what? That's not just something you do at a gas station?” you laughed, making Steve nearly choke on his coffee. You were so happy to be sitting with the man you had been swooning over for weeks now, heart fluttering the second the two of you locked eyes in the lecture hall. 
He was dreamy, gush-worthy standards. And now here he was, so many days later- sitting in front of you with a cup of coffee in hand. You had examined his choice of drink very carefully, knowing that could reflect on many things. Just as many other little things did, like if he slept with socks on or if he only picked the m&ms out of trail mix. 
Steve had a safe, solid choice- two creams and one sugar. Dark roast. You knew he was a good one.
 “I’m sure. Jesus people are crazy.” he snorted, swirling the little wooden stir stick around in his coffee as he admired you. You felt yourself start to fold in on itself the longer he gazed at you, stare so deep and meaningful you were scared you'd start giggling and kicking your feet right there. 
You wouldn't be surprised if you did. Steve had that effect on you, always making you swoon from across the class, each text he sent making you smile. He had a heart next to his contact name, for god's sake. But there was no way in hell you'd tell him that. At least not on the first date. 
You weren't even sure if he liked you back- as sometimes flirting flew straight over your head. You were funny like that sometimes. But tonight had seemed to have gone well, at least in your mind. The two of you had been talking for hours, getting little pastries and new drinks to try throughout the evening. It was dark out now, the moon high in the sky, shining down on the little vintage cafe with its dozens of tealights and oil lamps. 
You sipped your drink, still hot on the tongue as you met his stare. He smiled. That goddamn, cheeky smile that kept you up at night. One that screamed danger, and mischief and everything you wanted. A thrill, an adventure. Something fun- something your small town refused to offer. 
“Whatta thinking about?” he asked, breaking the easy silence that lingered over the pair of you like a veil. Like you were in your own little bubble, where no one could touch you. 
“Just you. And how you're different.” His eyebrow quirked up. “How so?” 
“ Well you haven't asked me to take off my clothes. Or made any sexual comments. Or said ‘maybe I would like you better if you took off your clothes’, so I like you.” you said, taking another sip of coffee to let those words digest. 
He just smiled, shaking his head slowly. “Well of course not. I mean, not that you aren't beautiful and so fucking hot and I mean-” 
You laughed. 
“Okay, you know what I’m getting at. But what I’m trying to say is that I’m a gentleman. And I would never ask that of you if you didn’t want it.” A sly grin tugged at your lips, legs crossing under the table as you squeezed your thighs together. 
“What if I want it?”
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“I don’t normally do this on the first date ya know.” Steve murmured against your neck, breath hot as he kissed down your neck, grip tightening around your thighs as he hosted you up against the wall. 
It had been a few hours later, some odd hour in the night after the coffee and the little walk down the side streets, popping into old bookstores and antique stores where he watched you marvel over little things like signed paperbacks and old purses his great grandma probably had. He was infatuated with you. 
Somehow his hand had ended up intertwined with yours, your arm bumping his as he walked you back to your place. Do you… maybe wanna come inside? You had asked, little doe eyes wide, voice as soft as silk. How could he say no? He never said no to you. 
Now here he was, dry humping you in your entranceway, barely two steps in the door before your lips had met his. You were drawn to him like a magnet, falling under his spell as your neck rolled back against the plaster, letting him have more access.
 “No? Wanting to keep up your gentlemanly acts? Promise I won't tell.” you teased, breath hitching as he traced your collarbone with his nose, finally sinking his teeth into the soft skin. Your hips rolled against his lower abs, desperate for any friction you could get. 
“Pinky promise?” he breathed, causing a moan to escape your parted lips as he squeezed your skin, licking the teeth marks as he dipped his mouth even lower. 
“P-pinky.” you stuttered. It was getting harder and harder to think clearly, movements blurring as if he was switching the lenses on your eyesight. Hands were on your ass, in his hair, tugging on those beautiful long strands to then wrap around his neck. 
Teeth clashed with tongue as he devoured you whole, and you felt as if you were on a carnival ride as he spun you over to your bedroom. You prayed he didn’t notice the piles of old, dog-eared books that were piled against the wall so high they were on the verge of toppling over, or your cluttered nightstand with so many candles and jewelry it had no other purpose. Steve didn’t seem to mind the mess, solely focused on how your breath sounded when it was uneven and when you were flustered, the giggles that emerged when he tossed you down on the sheets like a sack of potatoes. 
You liked being manhandled by him. You liked how he had wasted no time throwing you up against the wall, taking charge in such a respectful, yet sexy manner. This had only happened in your late-night thoughts, little flirty texts that you had sent when you got the courage past eleven pm nothing compared to this. You had always wondered what he would be like in bed, ever since you stepped foot in that classroom. It didn’t disappoint in the slightest. 
“God you're so- so fucking hot. You know how many times I've thought of this? Hearing your little noises when I make you feel good?” You whined. He groaned, tugging off your pants. 
“Yeah. Yeah, fuck like that baby. You’re such a good girl for me aren't you?” 
There it was. That was the money shot. Something in your demeanor shifted, eyes wide as you nodded frantically. Yes. Yes, you were and he knew it. “Please Steve just-”
 “Just what angel face? Hmm? Fuck you?” he antagonized you, as if he was talking to a mere child.
“Please. Please fuck.” The words had barely left your lips before he grabbed your hips, flipping you over so you were presented to him, ass in the air, face deep in the sheets. Your shirt had yet to come off, but you had a feeling it was going to meet your bottoms on the hardwood, the two of you too desperate to both with the flimsy article of clothing.
 “God you're so easy to manhandle. You like that huh? Being tossed around like a slut?” 
“Mhmmm god yes..” you moaned, letting out a quick yelp as he smacked your ass lightly, your hands curling into tight little fists as you gripped the blankets. You could feel the breath get trapped in your lungs as he kissed the skin he had just slightly marked, lips like a cooling serum to the heat in your belly. 
“Breathe angel. Just breathe for me yea? You tell me when it’s too much.” 
“What, don’t wanna get too freaky on the first date?” you chriped out, making him laugh. 
“Something like that.”
 “I like this, ya know. I like you. And I don’t feel shy around you, like I have with other people. You’re good to me, Steve.” 
He smiled softly, chest blooming with warmth at your reassuring words. He was so happy. All he wanted was for you to  feel comfortable around him, to feel wanted. Because he wanted you. Oh, gods did he ever want you.
 “Good.” was the only warning he gave you before he hit home, sliding into you gently. “Fuck. Fuck fuck you feel so fucking good.” was all he could moan, head tossed back in pleasure as you squeezed around him, adjusting to his size. 
He was big. Like extremely big.  All you could do was whimper, praying to every god that was out there that you could take him. 
“S’big Stevie. M’all full.” you squeaked, a rough growl escaping from his lips at your words. “Yea baby? I’m just so much bigger than you- aren't I? Filling you up to the brim, like a little hole for me to use.” 
He brushed your g-spot as his hips began to snap, cock drilling into you so fast you swore you saw stars. All you could do was hold onto the bed, allowing your body to fall limp, going slack as he used you. 
“You're so good. Such a good, good princess.” he praised, large hand pressed down slightly on your back as you arched, moans muffling into the sheets. You prayed your neighbors weren't home, or else you knew you'd get the dirty looks and silent treatment tomorrow.
 Totally worth it, you thought with a dazed-out smile, listening to the sounds of the bed drilling against the wall, springs squeaking in time with his groans, the squelching wet noises of your juices coating his cock. 
“M’not gonna last.” you whimpered softly. “S’okay baby. Be a good girl and cum f’me okay poppet?” 
You nodded, rumpled sheets bunching tighter between your closed fists as you squeezed him so tight it was suffocating, your clit pulsing a steady rhythm as you came with a cry. 
“Atta girl. Milking me dry baby, you really needed that didn’t you?”
 “Y-yea Daddy..” 
Heat rose to your cheeks. The name had rolled off your tongue before you could stop it, the filter that normally was placed over your words now gone in your dazed-out state. What if you fucked up? That wasn't supposed to come out. 
“F-fuck. Daddy huh? I should've known you’d like that shit. Not as much as me though baby.” he growled, grabbing your hips harshly, his thrusts becoming harder, quicker, more erratic. 
“Daddy’s making you feel so good hm?”
 “So good Daddy. Want you to fuck me alll the timee.” you giggled softly, whining as you felt him slip out of your abused hole.
 “Wha-”
 “Shhh poppet. I didn’t bring any condoms with me and we aren't risking it on the first date.” he shushed you, spilling his seed onto your lower back, stilling your wiggling movements as you begged. 
You felt the warm, white liquid ooze against your skin, dribbling down your ass as you wiggled it. The pad of Steve's fingers made you jump, the soft, gentle touch adding even more to the post-orgasm haze.
 “I-I have some in my drawer for next time.” He trailed his fingers against the delicate skin, smearing the cum down your thighs, giving you a quick little smack. 
“Good to know sweetheart.” he smiled, watching as you slowly turned to face him, doe eyes wide, lips parted slightly.
 “So when’s the next date?”
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Cuddle bug
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PAIRING | Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader
WORD COUNT | ~ 900 words
SUMMARY | Steve comes home from a long mission, and all he wants is to be cuddled up in bed with his favorite person. However, your shared secret threatens to be spilled when your good friend walks in the door and finds the two of you in bed together.
RATING | Teen (T)
WARNINGS/TAGS | Established (secret) relationship, use of nickname (Doll).
A/N | This little drabble is written based on a request I received from a sweet Anon! As soon as I saw this prompt, I couldn't resist writing a little something, so I hope you will all enjoy it! This is proofread by the amazing @ccbsrmsf1, for which I'm forever grateful. I love you 🩷
EVENTS Masterlist | @marvel-smash-bingo | Secret relationship Masterlist | @seasonaldelightsbingo | Can't Warm Up Masterlist | @ultimatechrisbingo | "That is America's ass."
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Banners: Yours truly | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF: Source
Main Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist
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Steve has been away on an extended mission—three and a half weeks and counting—and you're missing him more than ever. The two of you started dating only a few months ago, though it mainly takes place behind closed doors. You cannot get enough of one another whenever you are alone. Still, when other people are around, it is strictly professional—apart from the occasional reassuring smile you give one another.
Within the Avengers, there is no opposition to team members dating. Still, Steve has specifically asked to keep your relationship a secret because he wants to explore the connection between you two. It is the perfect way to get to know each other personally, and the last few months have been amazing because of that.
Now, you find yourself in your bedroom, curled up in your comfiest armchair with a good book and Alpine beside you. Since Bucky is on the same mission as Steve, you have taken over her care, and she's purring away in her sleep on the windowsill, enjoying the warm spring sun.
Just as you're about to finish your chapter, you hear a knock on your door, and you look up, expecting Natasha or maybe Tony to come by, but when you see who walks in the door, you smile brightly. Steve is back from his mission.
"Hi, Doll. I missed you," he tells you as he walks into the room, and your book lies abandoned in your chair. He's still wearing his suit and the shield on his back, letting you know he came to visit you right away, and it makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild.
"Steve, you're back already! I thought you would be gone for another few days!" Your arms are wrapped around his waist as you plaster yourself against his chest. His heartbeat thumps against your cheek as he gives you soft kisses on the top of your head. His hands rub soothingly over your back as he inhales your sweet scent.
"Mission got wrapped up early, so I figured I'd come home to my girl as soon as possible," Steve says. You lift your head to meet his gaze, warmth spreading through your cheeks as he calls you his girl.
"I love it when you call me your girl; it makes me feel special," you say shyly, and Steve can't help but chuckle.
"I'm glad because I cannot stop calling you that," he tells you before kissing you in a sweet, soft kiss. You two take your time to bask in one another's familiarity, but he pulls away when he can feel a shiver run down your spine.
"I think it's time we had some cuddles, Doll. You're shivering," he whispers, and you nod.
"That sounds good. You know I can't warm up properly with you there," you tell him, and he smiles knowingly. Before you know it, Steve has put down the shield, and his suit is folded neatly on top. As he bends down to put his boots away as well, you happen to glance over, and you're met with the glorious sight of Steve's butt being wrapped perfectly by his light blue boxer briefs, highlighting it beautifully.
"Hmm, so that is America's ass," you say jokingly. You have seen it clothed and bare countless times, but you still can't help saying it. The bright red flush covering Steve's cheeks has you smiling wide, and you can't get enough of the sight.
You have also taken your clothes off, being left in your underwear as you crawl under the covers with Steve. Due to the super soldier serum, his body temperature is always warmer than a regular person's, so he makes a perfect cuddle companion during the nights and colder months.
"Welcome back, Steve. I missed you and your warmth so much," you whisper when you're lying in his arms, your leg thrown over his, his arm wrapped around you, and your head on his chest. The comforter is pulled up to your chin, and you're just about to fall asleep when you hear a few knocks on your door.
"Y/N? I'm here to pick up Alpine!" you hear Bucky's voice carry through the door before he swings it open, and you immediately sit upright in the bed, clutching the comforter to your chest, leaving Steve exposed in the bed in the process.
"B-Bucky, hi!" you say as embarrassment floods your body that you're caught in bed with your boyfriend. Bucky's face turns bright red as he looks at the two of you, his mouth opening and closing without words as he tries to understand what's happening. Without saying another word, he turns around and closes the door behind him, leaving you two to wonder what just happened.
"I should go talk to him, Doll," Steve says as he leans in for a kiss, which you happily give him.
"Okay, but only if you promise to come back soon. I can't miss you for too long again!" you tell him, and he nods with a smile before jumping into his pants. The rest of his suit and his shield are left behind as he runs after Bucky to explain what is going on between you two.
While you were embarrassed at first, you're also a little relieved that you can finally share the love between you two with someone. This is going to be the first step to telling everyone about your relationship, too. It won't be long before you don't have to carry this secret around anymore, and you're looking forward to that day finally being here.
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downbadf0rficppl · 1 month
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happy birthday
Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary: Steve's deep in a lie. One that he won't be able to recover from. What happens when he finds out you know the truth.
Word Count: 2.3K
Warnings: SMUT, LOTS OF SMUT, and fluff of course. Brat Tamer!Steve, Oral (M Receiving),
AN: Based on a headcanon I read at some point where Bucky threatens to reveal when Steve's real birthday is - I don't think I ever laughed harder! Hope you guys all enjoy! LYYYYYYYYY
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"Hey, Cap," You called to him, walking over as he filed out of the briefing room. He looked up at you and smiled - lifting his hand up to wave. He looked at you suspiciously - your hands were hidden behind your back, clearly holding something.
"Whatcha got for me?" He smirked, "Hopefully not more files?" He added with a slight groan.
"Not at all. Just a little something," You showed him the box, "for your birthday."
Steve chuckled awkwardly, "Thanks sweetheart, but it's not my birthday for a while yet? It's December 12th?"
You smirked evilly, "Ahh but Captain, I discovered something quite interesting the other day. There was a collection of old SSR files found in an old crate and I had the pleasure of having to catalogue it. Most of it was boring but there was a file that caught my eye," Steve's eyes widened, but you continued, "The file of one 'Steven Grant Rogers'. And it surprised me to discover that the great Captain America is a-"
You were cut off by Steve slamming his hand down over your mouth. He looked around wildly, hoping that no one heard, before dragging you outside.
"Where did you find that file?"
"So it's true! Ha!"
"I'm not messing around, sweetheart. Who else knows?"
"No one. For now."
Steve stalked up to you, finger pointed at your chest, "You best keep your mouth shut, sweetheart."
"Or what, Captain, what are you gonna do?" You looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.
"Fuck around and find out."
"Don't tempt me with a good time, Captain."
"Shut your mouth," He growled, his pupils blown with lust.
"Make me."
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You barely made it back to his room before he slotted his lips over yours, hands grasping your face gently. You gasped into his mouth, his nose bumping yours as he pushed you through the door of his apartment.
"Jump," he mumbled against your mouth and you obliged. His hands gripped your thighs as they wrapped around his waist and he nudged the door shut with his toe. All without ever breaking the contact between your lips.
He carried you into the bedroom and dropped you in the center of his bed. He looked down at you like a lion looks at a gazelle, lust-blown eyes raking over your body.
"Just here to stare, Captain? All bark, no bite." It probably wasn't a good idea to provoke the beast, but you were having slightly too much fun watching Captain 'I-never-have-a-hair-out-of-place' Rogers lose his temper.
Steve shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're such a fucking brat," he muttered, a hand dropping to his belt. Your eyes followed his hand, raking over his unfortunately-still-clothed body. "You know what brats like you need? You need to be taught a lesson."
You almost let out a whimper, your cunt pulsing with need. Steve pulled off his shirt and his belt and dropped them on the floor unceremoniously. He climbed over you and crawled over you, his large body pinning you to the mattress.
He laid hands on the top button of your shirt before looking up at you for consent. "Please, Steve."
"See, that wasn't so hard." He began unbuttoning your shirt, laying gentle kisses in his wake. Once it was unbuttoned, he pushed it down your arms and tossed it onto the floor. He unbuttoned your trousers in the same way before pulling them off your legs and tossing them by your shirt.
His eyes raked over your semi-naked form, slowly appreciating every curve and dimple on your body. You smiled shyly - the weight of his gaze was heavy, heavy with adoration.
He flipped you onto your stomach and pulled your hips against his crotch. You could feel the bulge straining in his pants and you let out a moan as it brushed against your sensitive clit.
"Someone's sensitive," Steve said, the smirk evident in his voice.
"Someone's taking a long time to fuck me. Maybe I'll find some other agent to finish the jo-"
Slap. You jolted as Steve laid a hard slap against your ass. Your surprise melted into arousal and you let out another moan. You pushed back against him, letting him know you wanted more.
"You're mine," Steve growled, continuing to slap your ass, alternating between cheeks and pressures, "Mine to tame, mine to fuck. Get it, only mine."
You moaned in response - an enthusiastic yes.
"God, I can smell how wet you are, sweetheart. You like it when I slap you, huh? You like it when I get rough?" You nodded your head, pushing back into Steve again. You hear him chuckle and move away. You whine at the loss of touch, "Cockdrunk already, pretty baby? I haven't even touched you yet."
You heard Steve's zipper and the sound of jeans landing on the floor. You turned to look at him and you looked up at him with wide eyes.
"Impressed, baby?" Even through his boxers, Steve's bulge was impressive. Steve was a well-endowed man and he knew it. "Now come over here and show me how much you want this cock."
You climbed off the bed and sank to the floor in front of him. Your knees hit the solid cold floor and you were now at eye level with his cock. Steve's eyes went wide - clearly, he hadn't been expecting you to do that.
"May I, Captain?" You said, your fingers playing on the waistband of his boxers.
"Fuck yeah, sweetheart." Steve threw his head back as you pushed his boxers down. He was big. Bigger than you’ve had before. Your mouth watered at his size and you leaned forward to give the tip of his cock a little kiss.
Smirking at the way Steve groaned as his cock twitched, you wrapped your hand around his girth and started pumping. Steve threw his head back, his hands finding your hair and making a makeshift ponytail.
Your tongue swiped over the tip of his cock, collecting the pre-cum on your tongue. You took his tip in your mouth, hands still languidly stroking the base of his cock. Your left hand traveled down to play with his balls, gently massaging them. It was music to your ears the way he choked out your name from your actions.
You took him further down your throat, pulling away when you started to gag. You tried again, trying to go further.
"Breathe through your nose sweetheart, that's it," Steve said as you took further down your throat. Your tongue ran over the large vein on the underside of his cock, massaging it as Steve threw his head back in ecstasy. "Fuck, sweetheart. I'm gonna ruin you if you don't slow down."
You smiled, as you pulled away from his cock. "Don’t be afraid to do what you want, Cap." You hummed, "I can handle it."
Steve wrapped your hair around his fist, before guiding your face back down to suck on his cock. He pushed your head all the way down so that your nose was brushing against the trimmed hair at the base of his cock. You gagged around his length and the pressure made Steve let out a loud groan.
"Fuck, just like that, baby, yes," pressure began to build up in his stomach, as you bobbed your head up and down his length, "Keep going baby, don't stop."
Your hand moved back up to his balls, rolling them between your fingers as you kept sucking. The action made his hips stutter, the groan of your name practically coming out as a growl. "I’m not going to last," he choked out, pulling you off his cock and up to standing again.
Your knees felt stiff after so much time on the cold, hardwood floor, that you winced at the sudden movement. Steve caught it.
"Next time, you're using a pillow." You smiled at the thought of a nest time.
He pushed you back on the bed, his mouth latching back onto yours as he kneeled in front of you.
"Can I?" He looked up at you, his beautiful blue eyes shining brightly. His fingers traced the waistline of your underwear, fingers hooking the sides to pull them down,
You frantically nodded yes, and they were gone a second later, your bra following soon after. Steve lifted you up and threw you onto the middle of the bed, his eyes ravenously traveling to your sopping wet cunt. You moaned at the show of strength.
"You like that? Being manhandled like a slut?" You moaned in affirmation.
You gasped at the feeling of Steve's tongue on your pussy. He licked a long, flat stripe up to your clit, flicking it with his tongue. Your hands found their way into his hair and you pulled him up.
"As much as I would love for you to eat me out. I need your cock. In me. Right now."
"Your wish is my command, sweetheart."
You saw him grab a silver foil packet from his nightstand and he ripped it open with his teeth. You watched as Steve rolled the condom down his cock, the cock that was just in your mouth.
"See something you like?" Steve smirked as he caught you staring.
You blushed, "I see a lot that I like," you replied honestly.
Steve's face broke into a huge childish grin and he pulled you closer to him, "Good." That was the only warning he gave you before he hit home, sliding into you gently. He moaned loudly, head tossed back in pleasure as you squeezed him.
You gasped, trying to adjust to his size, "S'big, Stevie. 'S so big hmmm, 'm all - ah - full." you squeaked, a rough growl escaping from his lips at your words.
"Yeah, sweetheart? God, you're so tight. Filling you up to the brim, like a little hole for me to use."
Tears slipped down your face as you tried to adjust to the stretch. He was so big you could feel him everywhere, with every shift of your body, with every breath you took. Steve took your face in his hands, wiping away your tears, "Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe, yeah?" You nodded, taking a shuddery breath. Steve pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, "You tell me if it gets too much." 
"I need you to move," you whispered. Steve slowly, pulled out and slowly pushed back in. And then again. And then again. Each time he got closer to bottoming out inside of you and you moaned as he pushed further and further.
Eventually, he picked up the pace, falling into a steady rhythm. A steady stream of moans left your lips. He brushed past your G-spot and you swore you saw stars. You were begging for more.
His hips began to snap into you, cock drilling into you so fast that you had fallen silent, mouth stuck in an 'O' shape. The praises falling from Steve's lips were lost on you as the pressure built up in your stomach.
"Steve, 'm not gonna last, Steve, please, 'm gonna cum, 'm gonna - oh my GOD, 'M GONNA CUM, AHHH-" You fell apart all over Steve's cock as he kept up this brutal pace.
Steve followed soon after, cumming with a loud moan of your name before collapsing beside you. You smiled up at him through your post-orgasmic haze, turning to nestle into his arms. He chuckled, laying a light kiss on your forehead, "I have to go take care of this, give me a second."
He laughed as you shook your head, desperately clinging to him tighter. He unraveled himself from you and quickly disappeared into the bathroom to dispose of the used condom.
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Your eyes drifted shut as you waited for him, only to be forced open by something cool touching your inner thigh. You snapped your legs shut, only to find that Steve was holding a wet towel. "Just cleaning you up, sweetheart."
As soon as he was done, Steve pulled one of his t-shirts over your body and bundled you into his arms. At your disapproving grunt, he chuckled.
"Need to put some food in my best girl." He said, placing another kiss on your forehead.
"And then snuggles?" You asked, hopefully.
Steve smiled, "Yeah, sweetheart, then snuggles." He put you down on the cold island in the middle of the kitchen of his apartment and turned around to grab some fruit from the fridge.
The doorbell rang. Steve looked at the door and then the clock on the wall. He clearly wasn't expecting anyone. Both of you stood unmoving - you didn't know exactly what the nature of your relationship was. If it was someone you worked with - which of course it would be - you didn't want to be forced to go public.
Whoever it was was insistent. They banged on the door. "Hey, Punk, open the door." Steve let out a sigh of relief - it was Bucky, his best childhood friend. And also one of the best secret keepers in the compound.
Steve opened the door as you reached over to grab a strawberry. "What do you want, Jerk?" The door opened to Bucky mischievously smiling at Steve. Clearly, the fact that Steve was half-naked didn't bother him.
"Did you forget what today is?"
Steve's face blanched again.
"Happy Birthday, Punk!" Steve tackled a smirking Bucky to the ground. The sight made you burst into laughter, a strawberry held up to your mouth.
The sound made Steve look over at you. The sight of you sitting on his counter in his t-shirt, eating his strawberries made his heart jump. If this was how he got to spend the rest of his birthdays, he'd be a happy man indeed. Even if he had to put up with all your teasing.
fin.
buy me a coffee
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d0wnb4df0rf1cm3n · 9 months
Text
Happy Birthday
Steve Rogers x Reader
Summary: Steve's deep in a lie. One that he won't be able to recover from. What happens when he finds out you know the truth.
Word Count: 2.3K
Warnings: SMUT, LOTS OF SMUT, and fluff of course. Brat Tamer!Steve, Oral (M Receiving),
AN: Based on a headcanon I read at some point where Bucky threatens to reveal when Steve's real birthday is - I don't think I ever laughed harder! Hope you guys all enjoy! LYYYYYYYYY
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"Hey, Cap," You called to him, walking over as he filed out of the briefing room. He looked up at you and smiled - lifting his hand up to wave. He looked at you suspiciously - your hands were hidden behind your back, clearly holding something.
"Whatcha got for me?" He smirked, "Hopefully not more files?" He added with a slight groan.
"Not at all. Just a little something," You showed him the box, "for your birthday."
Steve chuckled awkwardly, "Thanks sweetheart, but it's not my birthday for a while yet? It's December 12th?"
You smirked evilly, "Ahh but Captain, I discovered something quite interesting the other day. There was a collection of old SSR files found in an old crate and I had the pleasure of having to catalogue it. Most of it was boring but there was a file that caught my eye," Steve's eyes widened, but you continued, "The file of one 'Steven Grant Rogers'. And it surprised me to discover that the great Captain America is a-"
You were cut off by Steve slamming his hand down over your mouth. He looked around wildly, hoping that no one heard, before dragging you outside.
"Where did you find that file?"
"So it's true! Ha!"
"I'm not messing around, sweetheart. Who else knows?"
"No one. For now."
Steve stalked up to you, finger pointed at your chest, "You best keep your mouth shut, sweetheart."
"Or what, Captain, what are you gonna do?" You looked up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.
"Fuck around and find out."
"Don't tempt me with a good time, Captain."
"Shut your mouth," He growled, his pupils blown with lust.
"Make me."
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You barely made it back to his room before he slotted his lips over yours, hands grasping your face gently. You gasped into his mouth, his nose bumping yours as he pushed you through the door of his apartment.
"Jump," he mumbled against your mouth and you obliged. His hands gripped your thighs as they wrapped around his waist and he nudged the door shut with his toe. All without ever breaking the contact between your lips.
He carried you into the bedroom and dropped you in the center of his bed. He looked down at you like a lion looks at a gazelle, lust-blown eyes raking over your body.
"Just here to stare, Captain? All bark, no bite." It probably wasn't a good idea to provoke the beast, but you were having slightly too much fun watching Captain 'I-never-have-a-hair-out-of-place' Rogers lose his temper.
Steve shook his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "You're such a fucking brat," he muttered, a hand dropping to his belt. Your eyes followed his hand, raking over his unfortunately-still-clothed body. "You know what brats like you need? You need to be taught a lesson."
You almost let out a whimper, your cunt pulsing with need. Steve pulled off his shirt and his belt and dropped them on the floor unceremoniously. He climbed over you and crawled over you, his large body pinning you to the mattress.
He laid hands on the top button of your shirt before looking up at you for consent. "Please, Steve."
"See, that wasn't so hard." He began unbuttoning your shirt, laying gentle kisses in his wake. Once it was unbuttoned, he pushed it down your arms and tossed it onto the floor. He unbuttoned your trousers in the same way before pulling them off your legs and tossing them by your shirt.
His eyes raked over your semi-naked form, slowly appreciating every curve and dimple on your body. You smiled shyly - the weight of his gaze was heavy, heavy with adoration.
He flipped you onto your stomach and pulled your hips against his crotch. You could feel the bulge straining in his pants and you let out a moan as it brushed against your sensitive clit.
"Someone's sensitive," Steve said, the smirk evident in his voice.
"Someone's taking a long time to fuck me. Maybe I'll find some other agent to finish the jo-"
Slap. You jolted as Steve laid a hard slap against your ass. Your surprise melted into arousal and you let out another moan. You pushed back against him, letting him know you wanted more.
"You're mine," Steve growled, continuing to slap your ass, alternating between cheeks and pressures, "Mine to tame, mine to fuck. Get it, only mine."
You moaned in response - an enthusiastic yes.
"God, I can smell how wet you are, sweetheart. You like it when I slap you, huh? You like it when I get rough?" You nodded your head, pushing back into Steve again. You hear him chuckle and move away. You whine at the loss of touch, "Cockdrunk already, pretty baby? I haven't even touched you yet."
You heard Steve's zipper and the sound of jeans landing on the floor. You turned to look at him and you looked up at him with wide eyes.
"Impressed, baby?" Even through his boxers, Steve's bulge was impressive. Steve was a well-endowed man and he knew it. "Now come over here and show me how much you want this cock."
You climbed off the bed and sank to the floor in front of him. Your knees hit the solid cold floor and you were now at eye level with his cock. Steve's eyes went wide - clearly, he hadn't been expecting you to do that.
"May I, Captain?" You said, your fingers playing on the waistband of his boxers.
"Fuck yeah, sweetheart." Steve threw his head back as you pushed his boxers down. He was big. Bigger than you’ve had before. Your mouth watered at his size and you leaned forward to give the tip of his cock a little kiss.
Smirking at the way Steve groaned as his cock twitched, you wrapped your hand around his girth and started pumping. Steve threw his head back, his hands finding your hair and making a makeshift ponytail.
Your tongue swiped over the tip of his cock, collecting the pre-cum on your tongue. You took his tip in your mouth, hands still languidly stroking the base of his cock. Your left hand traveled down to play with his balls, gently massaging them. It was music to your ears the way he choked out your name from your actions.
You took him further down your throat, pulling away when you started to gag. You tried again, trying to go further.
"Breathe through your nose sweetheart, that's it," Steve said as you took further down your throat. Your tongue ran over the large vein on the underside of his cock, massaging it as Steve threw his head back in ecstasy. "Fuck, sweetheart. I'm gonna ruin you if you don't slow down."
You smiled, as you pulled away from his cock. "Don’t be afraid to do what you want, Cap." You hummed, "I can handle it."
Steve wrapped your hair around his fist, before guiding your face back down to suck on his cock. He pushed your head all the way down so that your nose was brushing against the trimmed hair at the base of his cock. You gagged around his length and the pressure made Steve let out a loud groan.
"Fuck, just like that, baby, yes," pressure began to build up in his stomach, as you bobbed your head up and down his length, "Keep going baby, don't stop."
Your hand moved back up to his balls, rolling them between your fingers as you kept sucking. The action made his hips stutter, the groan of your name practically coming out as a growl. "I’m not going to last," he choked out, pulling you off his cock and up to standing again.
Your knees felt stiff after so much time on the cold, hardwood floor, that you winced at the sudden movement. Steve caught it.
"Next time, you're using a pillow." You smiled at the thought of a nest time.
He pushed you back on the bed, his mouth latching back onto yours as he kneeled in front of you.
"Can I?" He looked up at you, his beautiful blue eyes shining brightly. His fingers traced the waistline of your underwear, fingers hooking the sides to pull them down,
You frantically nodded yes, and they were gone a second later, your bra following soon after. Steve lifted you up and threw you onto the middle of the bed, his eyes ravenously traveling to your sopping wet cunt. You moaned at the show of strength.
"You like that? Being manhandled like a slut?" You moaned in affirmation.
You gasped at the feeling of Steve's tongue on your pussy. He licked a long, flat stripe up to your clit, flicking it with his tongue. Your hands found their way into his hair and you pulled him up.
"As much as I would love for you to eat me out. I need your cock. In me. Right now."
"Your wish is my command, sweetheart."
You saw him grab a silver foil packet from his nightstand and he ripped it open with his teeth. You watched as Steve rolled the condom down his cock, the cock that was just in your mouth.
"See something you like?" Steve smirked as he caught you staring.
You blushed, "I see a lot that I like," you replied honestly.
Steve's face broke into a huge childish grin and he pulled you closer to him, "Good." That was the only warning he gave you before he hit home, sliding into you gently. He moaned loudly, head tossed back in pleasure as you squeezed him.
You gasped, trying to adjust to his size, "S'big, Stevie. 'S so big hmmm, 'm all - ah - full." you squeaked, a rough growl escaping from his lips at your words.
"Yeah, sweetheart? God, you're so tight. Filling you up to the brim, like a little hole for me to use."
Tears slipped down your face as you tried to adjust to the stretch. He was so big you could feel him everywhere, with every shift of your body, with every breath you took. Steve took your face in his hands, wiping away your tears, "Breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe, yeah?" You nodded, taking a shuddery breath. Steve pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, "You tell me if it gets too much." 
"I need you to move," you whispered. Steve slowly, pulled out and slowly pushed back in. And then again. And then again. Each time he got closer to bottoming out inside of you and you moaned as he pushed further and further.
Eventually, he picked up the pace, falling into a steady rhythm. A steady stream of moans left your lips. He brushed past your G-spot and you swore you saw stars. You were begging for more.
His hips began to snap into you, cock drilling into you so fast that you had fallen silent, mouth stuck in an 'O' shape. The praises falling from Steve's lips were lost on you as the pressure built up in your stomach.
"Steve, 'm not gonna last, Steve, please, 'm gonna cum, 'm gonna - oh my GOD, 'M GONNA CUM, AHHH-" You fell apart all over Steve's cock as he kept up this brutal pace.
Steve followed soon after, cumming with a loud moan of your name before collapsing beside you. You smiled up at him through your post-orgasmic haze, turning to nestle into his arms. He chuckled, laying a light kiss on your forehead, "I have to go take care of this, give me a second."
He laughed as you shook your head, desperately clinging to him tighter. He unraveled himself from you and quickly disappeared into the bathroom to dispose of the used condom.
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Your eyes drifted shut as you waited for him, only to be forced open by something cool touching your inner thigh. You snapped your legs shut, only to find that Steve was holding a wet towel. "Just cleaning you up, sweetheart."
As soon as he was done, Steve pulled one of his t-shirts over your body and bundled you into his arms. At your disapproving grunt, he chuckled.
"Need to put some food in my best girl." He said, placing another kiss on your forehead.
"And then snuggles?" You asked, hopefully.
Steve smiled, "Yeah, sweetheart, then snuggles." He put you down on the cold island in the middle of the kitchen of his apartment and turned around to grab some fruit from the fridge.
The doorbell rang. Steve looked at the door and then the clock on the wall. He clearly wasn't expecting anyone. Both of you stood unmoving - you didn't know exactly what the nature of your relationship was. If it was someone you worked with - which of course it would be - you didn't want to be forced to go public.
Whoever it was was insistent. They banged on the door. "Hey, Punk, open the door." Steve let out a sigh of relief - it was Bucky, his best childhood friend. And also one of the best secret keepers in the compound.
Steve opened the door as you reached over to grab a strawberry. "What do you want, Jerk?" The door opened to Bucky mischievously smiling at Steve. Clearly, the fact that Steve was half-naked didn't bother him.
"Did you forget what today is?"
Steve's face blanched again.
"Happy Birthday, Punk!" Steve tackled a smirking Bucky to the ground. The sight made you burst into laughter, a strawberry held up to your mouth.
The sound made Steve look over at you. The sight of you sitting on his counter in his t-shirt, eating his strawberries made his heart jump. If this was how he got to spend the rest of his birthdays, he'd be a happy man indeed. Even if he had to put up with all your teasing.
fin.
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rogersideup · 1 month
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。°✩ ♊︎ The Gemini ♊︎ ✩ °。
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Chapter 3
Expendable
Series Masterlist
Previous part: wine and dine next part: pink peonies
Word Count 5,333
Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI. Mentions and descriptions of sexual acts.
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Standing in front of a human shaped dummy in the private training room, Steve was showing you all the best ways to direct an attack to assure your opponent goes down, and stays down.
After your mission and injury, Steve was out for a few days on a business trip the same day that you were medically cleared to get back to work. So, it had been a while since the last time you trained together.
You both decided it was a good idea to just take it easy and review what you already know as a means of studying for your final evaluation coming up.
Every agent had to take a final evaluation upon completing every single training course shield had to offer. It was a big deal, and though nobody had any doubts that you were ready for it, it could never hurt to review and improve.
"Knock knock, bitches." Bucky announced, causing both of you to stop.
"Hey, Bucky boy" You greeted him.
"What's going on, Buck?" Steve questioned.
"I dunno, I'm bored." He shrugged. "Can I just sit and watch?"
"Don't you have work to do?" You asked with a giggle.
"I finished!" He defended himself. "You two get to spend so much time without me, it's only fair I get to insert myself here whenever I want to."
"You act like this is personal and not us doing our jobs" Steve raised an eyebrow at him.
"That's a technicality I'm choosing to ignore." Bucky sat on the ground with his back against the wall.
Steve looked at you to make sure it was okay that he sat and watched, but he caught something he wished he hadn't. Just for a split second, you narrowed your eyes at Bucky, and he gave you a very subtle nod back.
He realized that it very well could've been nothing, but it definitely seemed like it was something.
Though Steve didn't bring it up at all, he made mental note of it. He was confident in his deep knowledge of both of his friend's behavior, and he was choosing to trust his gut on that observation.
The rest of your time together, Bucky sat and watched quietly, only occasionally responding to conversations that would break out that weren't work related. Towards the end, Steve wanted to confirm some scheduling, so he cut the physical work a few minutes early.
He sat on the bench with you as you pulled a sweatshirt over your head, and your everyday sneakers onto your feet.
"Okay, so, your final evaluation is one week from today." Steve noted. "So this week will be really simple, we can keep doing this, just reviewing what we've already been over. But our training together is still supposed to run until the end of the month so we have three extra weeks together."
"What am I supposed to do when this ends?! I'll be so bored without you!" You exclaimed.
Steve chuckled. "You should be happy that you survived my course!"
"I mean I am, but then what?"
"Maybe another Avenger will take you under their wing." Steve shrugged.
"I can only think of one Avenger with wings" you noted.
"What do you want to cover in the three weeks together after your evaluation?" He asked.
Your lips formed into a pout. "I know what it should be, but I don't wanna do it"
"Restraints?" Steve questioned sympathetically.
"Restraints... I guess." You grumbled.
Every fighter had a weak spot. Just one thing that made their stomachs turn and their hearts race, something that really scared them regardless of mental work or preparation. Some people couldn't handle heights, didn't do very well when they saw blood, and really freaked out over handling certain weapons.
You just happened to be terrified of being restrained, which unfortunately was a very plausible situation to find yourself in as an agent. There was no reason why you were terrified of it, nothing happened in your life to make you fear it as much as you did. But the thought of having your hands or legs tied made you feel claustrophobic in a way you couldn't even describe using words.
"It'll be scary at first, but we'll work on it" Steve reassured. "Wouldn't you rather learn how to get out of any sort of restraint with someone you trust then find yourself in a situation where you're tied up at the hands of an enemy with no way out?"
"Logically yes, but in reality I would like neither of those things to happen." You responded with a twinge of sarcasm.
Steve laughed, "okay well, I wouldn't like that to happen to you either! But once you learn how to escape from a bunch of different scenarios, you won't be scared of it anymore. Knowledge is power!"
"I know you didn't just knowledge is power me, you loser!" You joked with a snort.
"Oh I certainly did, and I'll do it again." He stated with a smile. "Confidently!"
"Okay, I guess I trust you enough to teach me." You committed to the endeavor.
"Good job, pushing yourself is how you grow better as a fighter." Steve praised your bravery. "We'll start with the easiest and work our way up to the hardest, then you'll be such a pro at it that nothing could ever hold you back."
"Yeah, yeah." You playfully rolled your eyes.
"Then after our training together is officially over, I'm going to block off my schedule these same two hours every day to just cry." Steve put a hand over his heart.
"Can you do that to my schedule too? Maybe we can cry together?"
"I'll see what I can do." Steve agreed, before opening his arms up for a hug. You happily hugged him back. "Good job today! You're going to do great on your assessment no matter who is assigned to asses you. We all know it."
"Thanks for teaching me!" You smiled. "In all seriousness, I've really enjoyed getting to learn from you. Thanks for all the time you've put onto me."
"Anytime, Bug. I've been enjoying it just as much." Then Steve turned to include Bucky in their conversation. "What are you guys up to for the rest of the day?"
"Nothing, well, I think that's pretty obvious considering I'm just sitting here" Bucky shrugged. "Do you guys want to hang out? Maybe we can walk to that cool park a few blocks from here? Watch the sunset and get some fresh air?"
"That sounds good to me." Steve agreed. "Buggy, you in?"
Both boys watched as you stood up and slipped your gym back onto your shoulder. "As fun as that sounds, I can't. You know Agent 563? We made plans to have an early dinner together so I have to get ready to leave here soon."
"Booooo, buzz kill!" Bucky announced dramatically.
"That doesn't mean you can't go on a cute little sunset date with your boyfriend without me, Bucky." You smiled at him. "By all means, you boys have fun."
"I think that's great." Steve told you, ignoring the boyfriend comment. "563 is a great agent, and I think it's important that you girls stick together.
"Lord knows we need some time away from the amount of testosterone in this place." You agreed.
“Even me?" Bucky pouted.
"Even you." You smiled at him, approaching him for a hug that you had to bend over pretty far to get. "And Steve. I love you both, but I need to interact with other people than just you two!"
"Hey! I only talk to you and Steve and I'm doing just fine" Bucky defended himself.
"What about Natasha?" Steve wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at him.
"Don't bring up Natas-" Bucky started passionately
"I'm leaving!" You announced before an argument broke out. "Love you boys! Have fun on your date! I hope you hold hands and kiss each other's foreheads!"
Steve and Bucky stared at each other as you walked out of the room. The door closed behind you, and your foot steps faded until completely inaudible to either of their heightened ears.
"Why are you actually here, Buck?" Steve asked.
"You're in love with her." He claimed deadpan.
Steve's heart sank, but controlled himself the best he could as to not bluff. "Why would you say that?"
"I figured it out last night." Bucky admitted. "I was trying to sleep but my brain wouldn't turn off. I was thinking about the dynamic of our little friend group and it hit me like a train. I had to come confirm it with my own eyes."
Steve puffed out a performative chuckle and put his hands on his hips. "You understand how crazy that sounds, right?"
"Is it though?" Bucky raised an eyebrow while standing up from his spot on the floor. "I never noticed it until today. Your eyes physically twinkle when you look at her. Your cheeks have been pink since I got here, and you never stopped smiling until she left the room. Encouraging, sweet, considerate..."
"It's my job to be encouraging towards her, Buck. I'm her boss." Steve huffed, feeling annoyed and attacked by this conversation.
"Why won't you admit it?" He asked.
Steve stopped in place and noted Bucky's furrowed brows. "Wait, why do you seem so upset about this?"
"I'm not upset." Bucky denied, shaking his head. "But if you're actually pining after her, Punk..."
"What?" Steve's heart was pounding.
"Do you like her?" Bucky asked one more time, his tone was nothing but serious. His face was stone cold.
"I'm her boss." Steve slumped. "There's a power imbalance, I can't break her trust."
"And if she joins the Avengers?" His head tilted.
"She just got out of a relationship."
"It's already been a month since then." Bucky insisted. "Steve, this is between me, you, and the grave. I'm serious."
Steve threw his head back with a groan. It had been a while since he had seen Bucky this worked up about anything, so he knew it was important. But getting the admission to slip past his tongue felt morally wrong and partially impossible.
"Steve."
"Yes." He said simply, staring up at the ceiling.
"How long?"
"How long what?" Steve sighed.
"How long have you had feelings for her?"
"Since the day I met her..." Steve mumbled.
"Oh my-"Bucky rubbed his face with his hand before running his hand through his hair. "You hid it too well."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve froze up as his mind ran laps around Bucky's behavior. He already knew what was coming before he could admit to it.
"You're going to hate us, but I need to tell you something..." Bucky said apologetically.
Meanwhile, you were having a fantastic time with Agent 563, Clara. Though the two of you were friendly around the compound, you never had the chance to actually sit and have a long conversation with her before. Both of you getting the chance to vent about the workplace environment and culture to someone who actually understood what it was like to experience it in the unique way you did was refreshing to say the least.
After dinner neither of you were ready to end the conversation there, so you grabbed ice cream on the way back, and walked the whole way home together. At a certain point, work was a topic long forgotten as you two bonded over other similar interests like movies, hobbies, family, you two even shared the same love for video games.
By the time you made it back to your apartment, there was a smile on your face and a lightness to your heart you hadn't felt in a while. It was obvious that work was making you feel heavy and alone for a while, but you didn't realize how bad it actually was until you got away from it.
That smile was wiped off your face when you opened the door to Steve sitting on your couch with a stiffness in his body and an anger on his face you had never seen before.
"Hey, are you alright?" You immediately asked as his head snapped over to you the second the door opened.
Alarm bells were instantly ringing. Your heart dropped into your stomach, and raced with a speed you didn't quite know was possible.
You had given Steve and Bucky a key to your place just like you had keys to theirs, but the three of you typically hung out at Steve's place. Either of them coming to your apartment was a rare occurrence, and them ever using your key was even more rare.
Steve watched you kick off your shoes and hang up your purse, he felt so many emotions all at once that he couldn't even begin to get the words out.
You hesitantly approached, he still didn't answer. "What's wrong?"
"Why didn't you tell me?" Steve questioned. His tone very obviously gave away his state of emotion, it only made you feel more anxious.
You had a suspicion what this was about, but number one rule as an agent was to never incriminate yourself. "Tell you what?"
"Don't do that with me." Steve denied. "Bucky already told me. I don't understand why you guys would do that and keep it from me."
Your posture slumped knowing that this reaction was exactly why you and Bucky decided to keep a dirty little secret from Steve. So you sat down on an armchair next to the couch he sat on so you could explain.
But, he didn't even give you a chance to defend yourself before he spoke again. "Did either of you even consider how hooking up with each other would affect me?"
"Hey now, let's get some facts straight." You didn't let him go any further. "I feel like the term hooking up is giving what we did way more credit than what it was worth, and yes, we did consider you, which is why we both agreed we weren't going to tell you."
"Great, thank you so much for the consideration. That makes me feel really secure in my friendships with both of you!" Steve said sarcastically, feeling betrayed and admittedly heartbroken beyond words.
"Wait" You shook your head. "I know that sounds bad, but you have to understand that we all have different morals and personal opinions when it comes to sex and we knew you wouldn't understand."
"What is there to not understand?" He questioned. "You two had sex with no regard to how it would effect our friendships with each other."
"First of all, it wasn't sex, there was no penetration." You corrected. "Second of all, we didn't think it would effect our friendships because that's all we are to each other."
"I don't care about the details or what actually went down between you. Had either of you told me you liked each other from the get go it wouldn't have been a problem. I would've been happy for you two." He grumbled.
"We don't like each other." You denied. "We were just at the right place at the right time, things moved fast, and that's that. There's no romance happening, nothing to make social group weird. We all know Bucky likes Natasha."
"Well it's weird now." Steve glared at you.
"What do you want me to do now? It already happened, I can't go back and change it." You noted. "Want me to suck your dick too and call it even?"
"This isn't funny and I really don't appreciate that comment." He scoffed.
"It wasn't weird for you until Bucky opened his mouth, huh?" You asked him. "Was it weird for you two weeks ago when it actually happened?"
"I don't care." He swallowed thickly.
Feeling quite taken back by his behavior, and a little more that a little annoyed that Bucky spilled the beans, your attitude came out. "I'm a grown woman capable of making grown choices, and I don't owe you an explanation of what I choose to do with my body, Steve."
"No, you don't." He agreed, but you made him snap. "But I'm feeling betrayed and disrespected by the two of you, and that, I do feel like I'm owed an explanation for."
"Are you mad at Bucky too?" You snapped right back. "Huh? Did you yell at him?"
"He told me the truth." Steve rationalized.
"Yeah, well I never lied to you." You pointed out. "And why did Bucky feel the need to tell you what we did privately? Huh? Do you feel like I'm allowed to feel betrayed and disrespected for him going against our word?"
"I'm not here to tell you how to feel. I'm here to try and rationalize any of the choices we're making right now." He raised his voice. "My friends are the only family I have, and I refuse to lose a friend I've already lost many times before over a stupid choice."
Just with that one sentence, he broke your heart. "And that right there, is exactly why I thought it was okay in the first place." You growled as all of your self defenses came rushing in to protect you from the words you always knew to be true but never wanted to admit.
"What do you mean?"
"I'm expendable to you and Bucky. I always have been." You stood up from your spot next to him. "You say you're upset because you didn't want to ruin the dynamic of the friend group but guess what? The dynamic has always been you and Bucky hanging out and me just kind've being there. You'll always choose each other, and everyone will always choose someone else over me."
"That's not true." Steve denied. Although he was seeing red with anger, your words made him sad for you.
"I'm never anyone's first choice, Steve. You'll always choose Bucky, Bucky will always choose you. My sister will choose her husband, Harvey will always choose literally anything but me. Nobody else here is willing to be my friend because it's like social suicide, and I had to completely isolate myself from my normal civilian friends for this job." You explained. "I'm the best agent so I get used and abused and harassed out of the pack, but if I become an avenger I'll be singled out as the worst one. You and Bucky claimed you'd always have my back but now I know that's not true."
"Stop saying that." Steve shook his head.
"Nobody wants me." You spat, Steve could tell you believed that to be true.
It shattered his already broken heart, because if you had even the slightest clue of how bad he wanted you, you'd never say those words again. But he couldn't tell you, it simply wasn't an option.
"Nobody wants me ever but that night, Bucky wanted me. So forgive me for latching onto any ounce of human connection I can get these days. That choice was never about you, and I'm sorry that it hurt your feelings but I'm struggling more than I ever have and right now I need to put me first."
"Bucky and I have always loved having you around."
"That might be true, but you proved my point with your own mouth." A single tear fell down your cheek, but you wiped it away just as fast as it fell. "You said you weren't willing to lose Bucky. But right now it feels like you're willing to lose me."
"Don't be mad at him." Steve shook his head.
"He had no right telling you that without consulting me first." You denied. "Unless he broke some kind of code or something there was no rea-" Your own words made reality wash over you like an angry ocean wave trying to swallow you whole. "Oh my god."
"No-" Steve shook his head.
"He broke bro code, didn't he?" You asked Steve, feeling suddenly nauseous.
Steve felt nauseous too. His brain couldn't think of anything but the truth at the moment, but he was horrified. Though he tried to formulate the correct response, nothing felt right at the moment. "You slept in my bed."
"Oh my god." You took a slow step back, unable to process what information you were just receiving. He watched as your face turned just as red as his. "You like me?"
A billion different things came to mind. So many scenarios, so many possibilities, every single time you suppressed your own feelings for Steve because you never thought a man like him could ever love you. It was wrong. Yet all this time, he was harboring a secret of his own. And even then it was still wrong.
"You slept in my bed while you had a boyfriend." Steve spoke so firmly you swore you could feel the bass vibrating the floor.
"This whole time you we're hoping I'd jump right into your arms after breaking things off with Harvey?"
Steve knew where this was going, and the look on your face was just as horrified as he felt. Your lip was wobbling, your hands were shaking, and with every statement you took a step back. "No. But I did think that there was enough happening between us that you wouldn't go for Bucky."
"I slept in your bed because I trusted you, you asshole." You cried, pointing a finger at him. "I slept in your bed while staying with Harvey because he was the only man crazy enough to actually love me and I didn't ever think anyone would be crazy enough to love me ever again."
Steve opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. His jaw hung open for a moment, before it closed, then opened again. "Well then I guess you were wrong."
"I was wrong." You agreed, wiping your face once more as you watched his eyes tear up. "I trusted you to keep me safe in training, protect me against the people who are harassing me. I trusted you as a friend, a confidant. I even trusted you enough to see me naked, but I was wrong."
"This is exactly why I didn't tell you." Steve mumbled. "Because you trusted me and I didn't want to break it. Bucky didn't know."
"So let me get this straight. You had a secret that you kept from both of us, but Bucky's actions are excusable because he didn't know. My actions are inexcusable but I also didn't know, and we did the exact same thing together?" You asked. "You spend a lot of time talking shit about men's double standards around the compound for someone who turned around and is treating me the exact same way."
"I'm trying to talks through this so we can all go back to being friends."
"You we're never my friend." Your words cut through his heart like a knife. "You we're someone being nice to me in hopes of getting in my pants one day."
"No, that's not true." Steve pleaded, blinking back tears. "Our friendship means a lot to me. That's why I'm this upset in the first place."
"I don't think I can ever go back to being just friends with your or Bucky ever again." You cried. "All of you guys here are the same, I can't do this anymore."
Steve watched you clutch your stomach, as you spun on your heels and walked straight for the door. Little did he know, you felt so nauseous you were trying your hardest not to throw up.
"So that's it?" Steve asked, standing up from the couch. "You're going to throw away everything the three of us have built together as friends because we can't have a rational conversation?"
"A rational conversation? You can't even admit that you're only mad at me because you wanted to get into my pants and now you feel like you can't because Bucky got me first." You turned around to look at him. "That's all I am to anyone. That's the only relationships I've been able to form since I've gotten in this compound. You, Bucky, Harvey. I'm not a human to you guys, I might as well just be a glory hole."
"You're misunderstanding me." Steve shook his head, eyebrows raising upward like a sad puppy.
"That makes two of us." You turned back around and grabbed your packed duffel near the door that you always kept for emergencies.
"I care about you, you know that right?"
"It sure doesn't feel like it right now." You denied his claim.
"Where are you going?" Steve asked. "This is your house."
"The compound has never felt like home to me." The door swung open. You didn't even look back at him before stepping through the doorway. "Don't worry about where I'm going, just say the fuck away from me."
And just like that, the door slammed behind you and rattled the ground. You set off like a storm on the other side, and Steve was left on his own to crumble. Only when he was sure you were gone for good did he let tears fall down his face.
Trying your absolute hardest to hold it together you rushed through the compound hallways, desperately trying to avoid seeing anyone you knew before you made it to your car.
You didn't have it in you to have a face to face conversation with Bucky at the moment, but you did feel like you needed to tell him that the friendship was over, so you called him instead.
"Hey, bug." He answered sympathetically.
"Why did you tell him?" You cried.
"I had to." There was a deep sigh from the phone line. "What did he tell you?"
"Why the fuck are you protecting him?" You asked. It was admittedly a little harsh, but Steve had already amped you up.
"So he told you everything." Bucky stated. "I figured out he was in love with you last night. I couldn't in good conscience keep our secret anymore. He needed to know because the longer we kept it from him the worse this would've been."
"He doesn't love me, Bucky." You denied. "What he did wasn't love. It was control, and it was power, but it's not love."
"I can tell you're upset with him, but I don't think that was his intention." Bucky calmly denied. "Give it a few days to settle, alright? You can be mad at us all you want and I understand why, but emotions are high right now and it seems like both you and Steve are villianizing each other."
"I'm going to be gone for the weekend." You stated, needing to set firm boundaries. "I love you, but you hurt me and I need to get away."
"I'm sorry, bug. I really am." He apologized.
"You, Harvey, and Steve will all be blocked from reaching me unless it's during work hours. And as of now, I can't be a friend of yours."
"I understand" Bucky accepted the repercussions of his actions, though he was sad about it. "I hope you know we care a lot about you. I'm sorry this is all happening this way, but I still want you to be safe. Will you let someone know where you're going? Maybe Commander Bennett?"
"Yeah, I will." You agreed, feeling relieved that at least Bucky was being rational. "I hope in a little while we can figure this out between you and I, but it's going to take some time."
"I hope so too." He agreed. "Stay safe, and be smart. I'm here for you whenever you're ready."
You hung up, drove off, and the second the compound was in your rear view mirror it felt like the weight of the world was off your shoulders.
The weekend came and went simultaneously way too fast, yet painfully slow at the same time. You stayed with your sister who welcomed you with widely opened arms, and really took the time to listen to you when you spoke. She let you get it all out, she wiped your tears, then by morning you'd put on a brave face for Luca.
Spending a lot of quality time with him was truly the only reason you hadn't fully lost your mind. By Monday you felt well enough to face the shit show that was work, but it didn't last very long.
You had made it a whopping 4 hours into the work week before getting sent to Steve's office with an ice pack pressed to your cheek and Commander Bennett opening the door for you.
Steve looked up as the two of you entered, but your eyes were glued to the floor. You didn't need to look around to see where the chair was. You already knew.
He hoped that Bennett couldn't feel the thick tension that filled the room, but it was unusual for him to follow you to his office, and he did take note of how bad you looked.
Well, unfortunately for him he always thought you were stupidly beautiful, but your eyes were swollen. You looked exhausted, drained, and nothing like your usual fiery self.
"We need to do something about 212." Commander Bennett cut straight to the chase. "We can't keep cutting into her work time and having her get hurt because 212 and all his awful friends are picking on her."
"What happened?" Steve asked, trying to see what was under the ice pack.
"I saw them trip her with my own eyes. I don't know if they thought I wasn't watching, or if they thought they were being sly enough that I wouldn't notice, but this cannot continue." He stood firm. "Poor thing smacked her face against the floor, but she still is claiming that reprimanding them will make it worse. So what's the solution?"
Steve sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Do you have any ideas, Commander?"
"Give them one more strike. Let them all know that if they pull this again one more time before evaluation we will disqualify them from taking the test." He suggested. "That includes physical, and verbal attacks."
"That's a really good idea, thank you." Steve agreed. "I'll talk to them today."
"Are you comfortable with that, 306?" Bennett asked you.
"Yes, sir." Your voice was hoarse.
"I'm going to give her the option of cutting her work day short or continuing her training, but no matter what we all know she doesn't need more training." He noted. "I'll leave her with you so you guys can figure out your schedules."
"Thank you." Steve said politely.
Bennett left and the door clicked shut behind him, but your eyes stayed glued to the floor. Your options were go to your apartment and sleep the rest of the miserable daylight away, or spend two hours alone in a room with Steve.
You both already knew what the choice was going to be. There was no need to discuss the schedule change.
Steve knew you hated his guts right now, and he was still feeling hurt by you, but it took a few moments for it to dawn on him that he still needed to be a boss and a leader regardless. So he put his best foot forward.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
There was barely any compassion in his voice, he might as well have been a robot, so you didn't bother responding. You didn't even bother looking at him.
"Would you like to talk about the incident?" He pushed.
"No, Captain." You responded, coming to the same awareness that he was still your boss.
Your use of his title and refusal to look at him felt like a shot to the heart. "Would you like to be relieved of duties until tomorrow?"
"Yes, Captain."
"You are dismissed."
Just like the last time he saw you, you walked out on him without as much as a glance back knowing the next time you'd be forced to see him would be evaluation day.
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Next Part: pink peonies
Ooooohhhh we have some ANGST! Who’s right? Who’s wrong? I want to hear ALL your opinions! Sound off in my inbox! Team Bug, Steve, or Bucky? Let me know!
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americas-ass-writing · 2 months
Text
Get up, try again, walk it off
Steve Rogers x reader
Summary: Steve was tired of it all and wants to give up but someone convinces him not to
Words: 1.8k
Warnings: mentions of injuries, mentions of a hospital, dark thoughts, thoughts of death/ wanting to die
A/N: I wrote this when I was absolutely devastated after yet another rejection. I fixed the ending to be happier when I was in a better mood. I would have let this rot in my drafts if it wasn't for @anika-ann telling me that it's beautiful I could channel my emotions and create something and that she wants to read it. So thanks love 💙
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You fall, you push yourself up. You fail, you try again. You get hurt, you walk it off.
Wisdoms Steve lived by his whole life. But what if... What if he reached a point where he doesn't have the strength to push himself up? What if he doesn't have the strength to try again? What if he doesn't want to walk it off? What if he just gave up? If he just let the exhaustion win and succumb to it?
Fight after fight, loss after loss, punch after punch. Steve was tired. So tired. He did so much good, saved so many lives. Why did he never get kindness back? Why did people spit on him for saving the city? Why did he only become a facade, a symbol and nothing else? Why did his feelings not matter?
His eyes open and he almost lets out a sigh that they do. Couldn't they stay closed? Couldn't his body just... no. That's not how his genetically engineered body works. It doesn't give up. He manages a smile at Bucky who's already berating him for risking his life and squeezes Natasha's hand that holds his. This is the most kindness he gets, his little disfunctional family. Still his heart longed for more... For a person to love him, to love Steve Rogers the man behind the shield, a person he can love back. For stolen moments, sweet smiles, comforting hugs, sweet kisses, a neverending love. But when you work as a superhero you don't get these things. You don't get a person who loves you. So his little disfunctional family is all he has, all he'll ever get. With that realisation he closes his eyes again and enjoys his friends as the yearning in his heart grows stronger once more. Maybe one day his heart will align with his brain and understand that he'll never have that kind of love. Maybe one day his body will align with his brain so it understands giving up and being tired is not an option for Captain America. Maybe one day he'll just function.
It's worst when he's alone. The silence louder than ever and his heart squeezing painfully at the loneliness. Oh how he wished he had a special someone who'd curl up next to him in the hospital bed, someone who'd text him good night, someone who'd search his eyes and frown at what they find, someone who'd try to make it better.
Sometimes he tries to distract himself, imagine he had this person. Daydreams in the kitchen of arms wrapping around his waist, of someone dancing with him while the food cooks on the stove. Reading a story and imagining himself as the love interest in the romance book he hides within the history one. Drawing himself with a blank insert of a partner, fantasising about the latest date they went on. Dreaming about someone, only to wake up and realise the hand that cradled his face was his own.
Every time he comes back to reality his heart pangs with the pain of loneliness. Steve doesn't understand why his brain and heart wouldn't just get used to it. He doesn't understand why he could feel so alone when he's surrounded by people. It's been this way for years and it never changed. Not even when he attempted to find someone. Sharon didn't work out, dates went awful and he didn't stumble upon the love of his life like in those romcoms Nat and Wanda liked to watch. His eyes find the ceiling of the med bay again and he lets out a sigh. Couldn't they stay closed for once?
"Ah Captain Rogers you're still awake" his eyes fall on an older gentleman, probably what he'd look like if he wouldn't have been frozen all those years. "I'm sorry if I woke you up I just need to check some of your vitals." He explains further and walks up to the machine Steve is connected to. Steve's eyes flit over his nametag. "No problem Mr Stan" he says with the best smile he can muster. The older man chuckles and pads Steve's shoulder lightly. "Stan is my first name. I prefer using it over my last name. Now... You probably have an interesting story to tell about how you ended up here huh? Not every day we get in Captain America on the brink of death." The older man smiles at him before he takes notes on the starkpad. Once he's done he places it on the small nightstand next to Steve's bed and pulls up a chair. "It almost seems like you've been getting more reckless over the years. You used to come in with a scrape or broken rip, we're out in a heartbeat."
Steve doesn't know what inclines him to open up to this man he hasn't met before but he lets out a sigh and rubs his face. "Brink of death? I guess I just tried to save as many people as possible. Didn't get out of the building on time before it collapsed..." The older man lifts an eyebrow and gives Steve a look as if he doesn't buy his shit. It rivals his mom's. He doesn't have to say anything to get Steve to open up. "Maybe... Maybe I don't want to do this anymore..." He whispers and the older man's face melts to a look of sympathy.
"Even superheros can change their jobs or retire" he offers oh so sweetly, causing Steve to let out a bitter laugh. "It's... Not just the job... It's everything... But especially the loneliness... How... Why do I feel lonely even if I'm constantly surrounded by people?" His eyes fill with tears that he quickly blinks away. "Oh my boy... You long for a special someone, for love? It'll find you. And before you scoff again and tell me it won't... It will. Everyone's deserving of love. And everyone will get the love they give. And you have given so much love. You'll get all of it and more back." Steve doesn't know why but he believes him. The hope in his chest blooming once again after he tried to suffocate it for years.
"But when?" His voice breaks. "It's not fair that I have to wait for it... I... I lost so much, I gave so much. Why do I not have that special someone yet?" It's the first time in years Steve has shown any form of weakness to another person. "Life isn't fair my boy... But we need to make the best out of it. Now I assume you've tried to find someone" at Steve's nod the older man hums. "Maybe you've just looked in the wrong places. Maybe you need someone like yourself that's yearning for love?" He offers and Steve thinks about it for a moment before he nods. They could help each other, love each other, heal each other. "But where would I find someone like that?" He whispers. Stan gives him a smile. "That, my boy, only you can find out. But you'll know when you meet them." He gets up and pads Steve's shoulder before he grabs the starkpad and walks to the door. "Who knows, maybe they're closer than you think" he throws over his shoulder and gives Steve a kind smile before he leaves the room. Steve looks after him and mulls over his words. Another sigh and he closes his eyes, trying to figure out a close place where someone like him could be for him to find.
A timid knock on the door pulls him out of his sleep. When did he fall asleep? He opens his eyes and is confused to see light streaming through the window. "Captain Rogers?" The melodic voice pulls his view from the window to the door, to you. His breath catches as he takes you in. You're the most beautiful person he's ever seen.
"I'm sorry to wake you but I have to take your vitals and then Dr. Cho and Dr. Banner want to have a look at you." You explain and walk over to the machine. "And after that you'll get breakfast. Your friends are already waiting in the hallway with it." You explain and put some data in the starkpad.
"Stan already took my vitals... Only 3 hours ago." Steve explains and sits up a bit to make sure he read the time right. You stop in your tracks and look at him confused. "Stan?" Steve's alarm bells ring. Oh no. Did someone sneak in? Did he tell an enemy his deepest darkest secrets? "Stan only works mornings... He hasn't started yet today" you tell him with that soft tone of yours. "Maybe you dreamt it? I don't have any data entry from 3 hours ago" you offer him the starkpad to look at his file only to confirm it. "Oh..." Steve let's out and looks at you. "I... I guess I dreamt it..." He doesn't know why he's so embarrassed by it.
"Many patients with head injuries dream weird things. It's completely normal." You explain with a smile. He takes you in once more. It's the same smile he gives. Seemingly happy but the longer you look at the eyes, the more you notice the sadness behind them. Maybe it was a dream... Maybe it wasn't. Maybe you're the one closer than he thinks yearning for love just like he does.
"How long have you been working here?" Steve asks and could throw himself out of the window for it. Maybe he should take Bucky up on the offer to learn how to flirt. "A few months now... And you?" You visibly cringe at your answer which he finds adorable. "Sorry that was stupid... You've been here since the beginning I... I'm just bad at smalltalk." Steve chuckles a little and gives you a sweet smile. "It's fine... I'm not great at it either... I uh... I'm Steve" he offers you his hand and you gently take it and introduce yourself. Steve's heart skips a beat and he's sure you'd notice it on the machine he's hooked up to but you're too busy giving him the sweetest smile there is. This time with more happiness in your eyes and Steve swears in this moment that he'll do anything to see your eyes full of happiness.
After the next mission that lands him in the med bay he isn't alone in his bed. You're curled up next to him, playfully glaring and telling him how stupid he is. He has a smile on his lips the entire time and agrees with you which makes you smile. The prettiest smile he knows and your eyes are full of happiness.
Steve thinks your eyes can't get happier, until the next time you two find yourselves in a hospital bed. This time Steve is curled up on his side, his arm carefully draped over your stomach and his eyes never leaving you and your little bundle of joy. He never imagined his heart could be so full of love, his body vibrating with happiness and here he was. Just a couple years after he wanted to give up, after he basically begged his eyes to stay close. If his body would have listened he would have missed out on his beautiful life with you and now your little one.
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writing-for-marvel · 9 months
Text
At Your Service (2)
Bodyguard!Steve Rogers x Diplomats Daughter!Fem!Reader
< < PART 1
Summary: True to his word, Steve makes up for leaving you high and dry the night before.
Warnings: strictly 18+, smut, semi public sex, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, panties as a gag, dynamic where Steve is meant to be protecting reader and they catch feelings
Word count: 2.8k
A/N: as the winner of this poll, here is part 2 of my beloved bodyguard!Steve! A big thank you to both @flordeamatista who helped me come up with plot ideas for this second part and to @seitmai who provided the inspiration for me to continue with these two 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies
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“You need to stop looking at me like that.”
You actually quite enjoy the desire filled gaze Steve hasn’t been able to break away from you all morning, but the introductory speech for your father you’re giving at tonight’s gala is getting the better of your nerves and any conversation with Steve always seems to lift the weight of the world off your chest, even if it’s only for a fleeting moment you get alone together.
Plus, you’ve been looking for an indirect, yet natural way to bring up the relations performed in his hotel room late last night since you were reunited with your bodyguard this morning.
“Like what?” He smiles at you cheekily in the mirror you’re getting ready in front of and your stomach somersaults in response - he knows exactly how he’s staring at you, but he’s baiting you to say it aloud.
“Like you’ve seen me swallow your cum.”
There’s more affection suspended in his baby blues than simply the carnal lust of having watched you perform the explicit act, but you’re not sure you’re ready to admit the implication of that to express the notion out loud.
Steve merely chuckles in his signature hearty way, that’s dangerously contagious and which makes you fight the corners of your mouth from upturning, not wanting to divulge the effect he has on you.
With those long legs of his, Steve takes a couple of slow, meaningful strides and he’s by your side, right where he belongs, eyes still boring into yours, but with him this close you can now see what you can only describe as a soft familiarity in them which you’ve never noticed before.
“But it was such a beautiful sight, how could I possibly think of anything else when I look at you?” He asks, maintaining eye contact through the mirror with a defiant smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that makes you want to kiss him.
You want to tell him that attraction is not one sided, that if he hadn't been tasked with your security and wasn't being paid by your father to keep watch over you every minute of the day, you would have made a move on him much sooner. But a nagging disquiet prickles in your stomach and the words die at the back of your throat.
What if sexual attraction is all he feels? What if you’re misinterpreting these soft glances and his he doesn’t reciprocate the desperate yearning carving a hole in your chest you’ve spent the past month trying to convince yourself isn’t the feeling of falling in love with him?
The thought cracks the barricade you’re attempting to build around your heart, crumbling like an old stone castle wall.
To distract yourself from the uneasy pause in conversation, and the intense stare of those ocean blue eyes you have become accustomed to following your every move, but now feel are appraising your reaction, you break eye contact to locate your mothers locket on the vanity in front of you.
You fiddle with the latch under his gaze, unable to steady your hands sufficiently to exert your fine motor skills, which Steve seems to take notice of as he slowly extracts the delicate chain from your hands and fastens the clasp around your neck. His fingers brush the sensitive skin of the nape of your neck causing the small hairs to stand on end and a shiver to run down your spine. You watch in the mirror as he leans down and places a gentle kiss to where your neck curves into your shoulder, a buoyant, burning desire floats in your chest at the velvety feeling of his soft lips.
“Thank you.” You whisper hoarsely, mentally condemning yourself, you swear ‘thank you’ are the only two words you can say to the man who ensures your protection and unknowingly owns your heart.
Thank you for opening the door for me.
Thank you for protecting me with your life.
Thank you for fucking my throat last night.
You both turn to look at each other in the reflection of the mirror and a smile blooms on his face as soon as your eyes meet each others again.
“You’re welcome.” Steve imitates the low volume of your voice. The thought of his full, plump lips pressed on yours, being held by the two arms that have kept you safe for the past few months, as you were for a brief moment last night, distracts you from the sound of someone opening the door to the dressing room without notice.
“Ma’am, they’re ready for you.” One of the event organisers pokes her head in to hurry you along. Within a blink of an eye Steve has returned to his position by the far wall, standing tall, stoic and poised. The heat drawing up your back at his kiss is the only indication he had moments ago been standing so close.
Less than five minutes later you’re walking beside your father into a grand hall, a large crystal chandelier hanging from the centre of a 40 foot ceiling is complemented by stark white walls embellished with gold trim and framed paintings of major historical moments.
An ambassador from a small European country greets you before you have any further chance to look around. As typical, you’re treated like the naive, young daughter who has grown up so much since they’ve seen you last, even though you’re well into your twenties and hold multiple degrees in political science, economics and global studies.
A pawn in your fathers game.
Look pretty. Smile sweetly. And don’t open your mouth to debate politics which contradict policies he’s looking to implement.
You’re as useful as a decoration.
Steve’s job is to live a couple of steps behind you, but it’s too far. You want him close enough that you can feel body heat radiating from him. You want him next to you so you can reach for his hand. Close enough for him to kiss your neck again like he did in the dressing room.
He’s the one person who never fails to make you feel seen, as if you’re just as important, if not more so, than all the other diplomats and embassy officials in the room. But you suppose that’s just him doing his job, and you shouldn’t misconstrue his lust filled gaze and him being paid to keep you safe with valuing you more than for what you did for him in his bedroom last night.
You sense Steve’s broad presence behind you as you make your way onto the stage, hands uncontrollably shaking and chest tightening as you take in the crowded room of people whose attention is now solely focussed on you.
With a cough clearing the lump forming in your throat, and a quick glance to Steve who’s wearing an encouraging smile, you plaster on your best well rehearsed, feigned grin and begin your speech by telling the tale about how when you were five years old, your father would serenade you to sleep every night, no matter how busy he was or what international incident he was dealing with that day.
Your task is to make him appear as the doting father and formidable diplomat, even if it isn’t the truth. By now, you’ve practised this story enough to recite it word for word.
Repeat a lie often enough and it becomes the truth.
Steve offers you his calloused hand as you descend the steps off the stage, as you breathe a sigh of relief your involvement in the evening is over. Goosebumps race up your bare arm at his touch, a reaction Steve seems to take notice of, causing a small grin tugs at the corners of his mouth.
Your stomach flips at being the reason for that smile, even if only in an accidental way.
The buffet table is your usual choice of post at events such as this, especially at the end of the evening when the decadent desserts are served. Your mother did used to say you had a sweet tooth.
You also always sneak a few servings to Steve too, even though he’s not meant to consume any of the food set out for the guests. Having smuggled enough sweets to him during his service, you know his favourites are the rich chocolate brownies and sour lemon meringues.
However, as all eyes in the room turn to your father as he takes over as speaker, rolling off an opening joke you’ve heard too many times to even consider feigning a laugh to, you instead make your way into the adjoining, wide hallway and bracing yourself against a wall.
No matter how many times you stand in front of an audience of that size, it never fails to make you want to throw up the entire contents of your stomach.
“You did a really great job.” Steve comments as he leans against the same wall you’re resting on. His typically stoic, brooding features soften when he gazes at you, the compliment exchanging the nauseated twisting of your stomach with nervous butterflies. “I couldn’t make a speech in front of that many people.”
The distance between you is agonising, he’s close enough that you can see the patterns in his blue irises, but not close enough to touch. Your fingers itch to feel any contact with him as you had the brief pleasure of as you walked off stage, but you refrain from doing so in public for fear of getting caught.
“Thank you.” Is all your brain can come up with to say when your stomach is fluttering at how soft his gaze is, how he seems to genuinely mean the accolade unlike when your father commends you a job well done.
You’ll have to resign yourself to those being the only two words you’ll ever be able to utter in his presence.
Steve’s eyes dart to the bathroom sign across the hallway, and with a smirk on his face, grabs your hand unexpectedly and pulls you towards it. You don’t even have a moment to savour the feel of his large hand engulfing yours, and how your fingers slot perfectly between his for once you’re inside the bathroom his hands move to cup your face and his lips crash onto yours.
Your mind is dizzy as his tongue sweeps into your mouth, rough hands pushing your dress up to find the backs of your thighs, hoisting you up onto the vanity beside the sink, your back pressed against the firm, smooth mirror.
“You’re so cute when you get all shy on me, even though you were gagging on my cock yesterday.” He mumbles as his lips trail down the column of your throat. “Want to finish what we started last night?” You respond with a shy smile and an enthusiastic nod.
Steve pushes the ends of your dress higher to reveal your black, lacy panties and smirks mischievously as he drops to his knees. The sight alone has you dripping.
He presses slow kisses along the inside of your thigh, starting at your knee and progressing higher each time - repayment for the similar, teasing action you subjected him to the night prior.
A whine falls from your lips as he places his next kiss on your covered pussy, humming at the feel of the soaking wet patch that’s formed from just a few kisses. Pulling your panties to the side, he repeats the action, a gasp leaving your lips as a new flood of wetness drips from your core at the sensation.
Steve’s strong hands force your legs to stay open as he dives in, tongue licking between your folds, lapping up your arousal, the taste of which only spurs him on. He starts out like a man starving, fueled by a complete fixation on needing to taste more of you, something he’s been dreaming about for months.
He alternates between suckling on your clit and finding a rhythm of swirling around your core. Just when his patterns become predictable, he changes his angle or position, finding new nerve endings to stimulate you didn’t even realise existed. When he rotates back to his plump lips suctioning around your clit, he unexpectedly slips a thick finger inside you, watching your face intently for your reaction.
“Fuck, Stevie!” You cry, head pulling back and thudding against the mirror, but you’re not concerned with the dull ache when what Steve is doing between your legs has pleasure shivering up your spine and winding tightly in the pit of your stomach.
“Princess, you need to keep quiet for me. Don’t want anyone out in the hall hearing.” Steve growls, torturously taking pause for a moment to pull your panties off completely. He circles your lips with his arousal coated finger, before allowing you to suck your sweetness off it. He kisses the remaining fluid from your lips, then, with a smirk, instructs you to open wide and improvises a gag by stuffing your panties in your mouth.
As his lips wrap around your clit again, constellations of stars flash behind your eyes, and the coil in your lower stomach winding ever tighter, ready to snap at any second. You can’t prevent the muffled moan resounding from your lips through the lace material of your panties and your fingers from gripping at Steve’s hair in an effort to ground yourself from floating off on a cloud of bliss.
“So sweet.” He hums, breath warm against your centre, the sound vibrating through your entire body. His tongue darts around your folds, learning which are your most sensitive areas, what motions cause you to keen and ensuring to replicate them.
When his fingers begin to trace your opening, gathering your slick, you know you’re teetering on the edge, pussy clenching around nothing, needing to be filled.
Your earth shattering end comes as soon as he thrusts those two fingers inside you while his lips tug on your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your thighs clasp around his head and toes curl as your thighs begin to quiver with pleasure surging up your spine, your moans quenched by the garment in your mouth.
Steve doesn’t abate licking up every drop you provide him, even though you're trembling through your prolonged orgasm, his grip on your thighs still bruisingly strong as you continue to mess his hair with your hold.
He smiles triumphantly at your blissed out form when you’re over the other side of your high, the bottom half of his face gleaming with a mixture of his saliva and your arousal.
“Told you I’d make it up to you for leaving last night.” Steve whispers, resting his forehead against yours as you catch your breath, slipping your panties discreetly into his jacket pocket. His smile turns soft as his large hands soothingly rub your bare thighs, squeezing slightly when he notices you enjoying the gesture.
You mentally note to take in how delicious he smells, like warm honey and mixed spices, and how his hot skin feels against your own, sending sparks shooting through you wherever his hands chose to rest, knowing at his usual distance you don’t get to appreciate either of these qualities.
His eyes look at you expectantly, as if he can’t quite find the strength to break away from you and he’s looking at you for any sign you want to push him away. It reminds you of how he looked at you when he asked you to stay in his bed last night, in that way that takes away all your air because of how much fondness is suspended in his eyes, and the words he proclaimed: you mean a lot more to me than just a quick fuck.
“As much as I want to stay here where it’s just you and me…” You reluctantly pose, and your heart squeezes at the look of disappointment which flashes over Steve’s features. “I think we should head back in there before someone starts asking questions.”
Steve steps out of the bathroom first, to look less suspicious, keeping a watchful eye outside while you readjust your dress, fix your hair and touch up your makeup the best you can after having mascara smudge underneath your eyes.
Walking back into the gala side by side, Steve’s fingers fiddle apprehensively with your own, as if to silently ask permission, before slotting perfectly into your hand. You glance up at him to find him already looking at you with that fondness which makes dormant butterflies come to life in your stomach and your cheeks burn as hot as the sun.
He holds on for as long as socially acceptable, while no one can see you, only letting go just prior to making your reappearance in the grand hall, falling into a step behind you, but ensuring to give your hand an affectionate squeeze first.
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To be tagged in any potential additional instalments of this AU, please add yourself to the taglist here
At Your Service [Bodyguard!Steve Rogers] Taglist: @daemonslittlebitch @valhalla-kristin @crispysublimecupcake @wifeofbarnes @priya212 @highlyintelligentblonde @buckyseddie @erynnnn @nefelibatansoul @albinotigerpython @goldenharrysworld @supersanelyromantic @gothkitteh @misshale21 @happeevacationday @readreblogfics @ashenc-blog @redbarn1995 @missvelvetsstuff @broadwaybabe18 @calirindo @crazyunsexycool @alluringsirensworld @cevansswhore @lex-is-up-all-night-to-get-bucky @almosttoopizza @karla0506 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @nats-whore @barnesboo1967 @musicissmylife @acatwriteshere @buckets-and-trees @eralen @buckbuckyoongs @desert-fern @janineb86 @doasyoudesireandlive @kayden666 @razor-blayde @badasswlthafatass @Vickie5446 @loveoldmenlikelana @pointless-girl @otomefromtheheart @rebeccapineapple @aya-fay @ozwriterchick @deandreamernp @itvy5601 @marvelxlevram @fandomtrash5092 @corruptedcoffin
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anika-ann · 5 months
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Back and Forth - prologue
Prologue: Flash Forward
Type: series; agent!reader, inhuman!reader Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 800
Series summary:  Calling yourself an Avenger would be overstatement, even if you have been joining them on missions quite frequently lately. Calling them your friends would be an overstatement also. Calling you and Steve Rogers friends, now that would be an insult to the entity of friendship – though unlike him, you have enough self-awareness to admit that he isn't the only one to blame for that. Most of the time anyway.
However, the Avengers need your abilities and so you and Steve tolerate each other... and then you’re thrown into a situation where mere tolerance isn’t an option. That should end well, shouldn’t it?
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Series masterlist
Warnings: canon-typical violence, allusions to death, pain, blood, hurt/comfort-ish, language
A/N: prologue to a new series with enemies-to-lovers-ish vibes and inhuman reader; dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕; moodboard is for the vibes and does not necessarily reflect reader's appearance
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The exhaustion was coming and going in waves, alternating with pain, concern and fruitless determination.
You wondered if Steve felt the same; you assumed he did. Asking would feel a little silly though; you didn’t see the point and frankly, you and Steve had never been close enough to just sit down on a couch and share your feelings, keeping them close to the vest except for the heat of your occasional arguments. So you stayed quiet, alone in your wondering.
The pulse of pain in your legs dulled a while ago; you let your head lull back against the wall you were leaned against, the thud sounding just as dull.
The irony wasn’t lost on you; you and Steve had been colleagues, reluctant friends as best, guarded and unsure about the other most times despite him being one of the most honest people you had ever encountered. It was true that you stood by his side and he did by yours, but there had always been an invisible wall between you. By the irony of fate, now, when an actual wall separated you, you could feel the figurative one crumble down.
It was surreal and frankly scary; which was just as ironic, given your circumstance that should feel much more terrifying. And yet… you couldn’t help the little warmth spreading in your chest, knowing your back was aligned to the same wall Steve’s was, mere inches apart, and while admitting certain things to him hadn’t been pleasant, in hindsight, it felt good. No matter the outcome, you had no doubt that if you survived, you’d remember these moments fondly, at least to some point.
And yes, it probably made you a masochist; but what else was new.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the files?” Steve’s low voice snapped you out of your musing, making your heart jump a bit in fright.
It shouldn’t have surprised you he asked one of many questions you didn’t want to answer. It was another of his annoying and endearing talents – and you rarely gave him the satisfaction of replying fully, just for that. But what the hell, right? Maybe you were about to die here. And you had just thought about how telling the truth, while embarrassing, felt liberating too.
“Would you have listened?” you questioned him back anyhow.
“Yes.”
“Liar.”
You heard him shift, the clank of metal and a low hiss escaping his lips making you gulp. You weren’t the only one battling pain.
“I would have heard you out. I admit I was angry at that time and I wasn’t… behaving as I should have and I’m sorry. But I would have heard you out.”
A brief barely-there smile curled your lips as he apologized again. Steve Rogers, ladies and gentlemen, unable to bear the fact he himself had been less than a gentleman. You might have been far from a friend and even farer from being able to tell you knew him and understood him despite having screamed at him the opposite, but you understood enough. Even if you sometimes wished you didn’t.
“But would you have listened?”
He didn’t reply.
You both knew the answer: no. He wouldn’t have, because he was the damn Captain America and he believed he knew the best, blindly following his inner compass pointing the true North even should all hell break loose, and those files weren’t a real concern anyway, were they?
Damn him.
And yet. As you challenged him further, you couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your chest humming louder, because yes, that was who he was, and you liked him that way, even if he was driving you mad at the same time.
“Or would have you just waved it off, because you are invincible?”
Silence stretched again.
You closed your eyes and tried to focus on hearing his breathing through the wall, still startled and relieved at how easy it was to do so. It was a good distraction from the pain still radiating from your wounds; and it kept your hope alive.
Dum spiro spero, right?
Despite the situation – or maybe out of spite, given both yours and Steve’s nature – you were still breathing and so was Steve. As infuriating as he was, you knew your heart would break to pieces if he stopped. Unable to walk or not, you’d find a way to break through the wall in mere seconds if he stopped talking to you.
Which he did just now.
Something in your ribcage contracted painfully, your voice shaky when you spoke his name, praying he was only offended at you calling him out. After all, being shot really fucking hurt, so you’d rather not move at all, let alone try to crash through concrete; that was the sole reason for your prayers. Liar, whispered a breathless voice, but you ignored it, your heart hammering against your sternum.
“…Steve?”
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Next chapter
Series masterlist // S.R. masterlist
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Well, well, well... I'm leaving - to a certain point - the realm of fluff to dip my toes in action and angst. Should end well too, right? Anyway. I hope you enjoyed this little tease😇
I admit this fic really is just a baby for now, even as the outline is done, but I simply had to share - too excited not to... oops?
I'm fairly confident this should be around 7 parts including prologue and epilogue, but I'm also me, so the number might slightly rise.
Thank you for reading 💕
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emwritesstuff · 4 months
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DYNAMO | Steve Rogers x Reader | masterlist
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HYDRA has made their share of human experiments. You're just one of them. One of the least successful ones. One of the least functional ones. At least your life in the facility gave you a few things: unwavering resilience, cool(ish) superpowers and a great sense of humor. Steve Rogers would strongly disagree with that last one. A single chance encounter with him reluctantly brings you into the Avengers Compound, and you're determined to make his life as miserable as you can. Feeling's mutual.
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An Enemies to Lovers, Steve-needs-to-relax sort of story. No use of Y/N on this one, been keeping the reader's physical descriptions low too! The white girl of the image is just used for the lightning vibes.
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warnings/keywords: mentions of human experimentation, violence, cursing, sexual tension, low self esteem, mentions of death, stressed!steve) This series contains explicit content (smut and other mature themes). Please heed the warnings and read responsibly!
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status: ongoing
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AO3 | Playlist (coming soon!)
part 1: THE CATALYST part 2: CONDUCTIVE ACCORDS part 3: FRICTION SURGENCE part 4: ENTROPY part 5: OF MOMENTUM** part 6: ENTHALPY** **contains smut
Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! /currently tagging: @ nekoannie-chan @ alessandraavengers @ js-favnanadoongi @ bean-bean2000 @ masterofnonesstuff @ reejero @ agentxx92 @ mimimarvelingmarvel @ spn-imagines-fics
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Text
Gag Reel
Chris Evans x Actress!Reader Summary: If you scroll through youtube deep enough, you'll find a vid titled "15+ mins of Evans-Y/L/N moments that live in my head rent free." Word Count: 1k+ Warnings: Crack fic themes, fluff, typos, misogyny, etc.
A/N: 🙄 if someone requests another evans crackfic, I'm going to set tumblr on fire. Let this series die I've exhausted all of my creativity T_T I don't even remember what I was supposed to do for this that i put it off and now i've just pulled this out from nothing. Amazing!
Here are the other "parts" of this, but for the final time its not a series, you don't have to read them to understand this.
Dude, She’s Just Not Into You | White Bread | The Other Guy | 400 Flowers
I hope i tagged everyone and I hope yall enjoy and leave comments and stuff!!! @time-for-a-lullaby @christmaswonderworld @readsreblogsfics @marianastudiesart @r2gers @undergroundstyle @notbrooklynsblog @marc-rogers @lam0ureuxq @mickymouselol1 @kimmyevansblog @captainwans @lizamango @freyathehuntress @freshfreakoaftrash @empath-bunny @insomnia-bookworm @cedricdiggorysimpp @inspireriri 
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The skirt incident
There had been a where amidst filming near a river for you film, you and Chris had been goofing around by the shore, and ultimately you have gotten Chris wet from the waist down.
After being scolded by the producers and the wardrobe team, Chris had to get his pants changed.
But you just couldn't help yourself and snuck in his changing room, swapping out his trousers for a skirt they had in your own wardrobe.
You hear Chris scream your name. The head of wardrobe asked what you did this time and you quickly explained the situation. Suddenly the entire crew was waiting with phones out, urging Chris to get out of the changing room.
"Ha, ha," he calls out dryly. Chris rips the door open and walks out in a itty-bitty, a-line, plaid skirt with his hands on his hips.
The entire crew hollers.
You are-- dare I say-- turned on. Actually you are thoroughly impressed he manged to fit the skirt on his waist and--
"This skirt isn't even my size!" Chris complains, suddenly fumbling something behind him. You gather its the zipper.
"You look so hot though, babe," you throw a flying kiss at him.
Chris gives you a look and attitude, "hotter than you, surely."
The gag is so funny, you actually add it to the film.
"You're ugly though..."
Scene is set behind the scene on a photoshoot. You're doing a couple-y shoot with Chris, obviously to promote your film.
It's amidst the makeup touch up you notice there is a child on set. He's introduced as Caleb, the makeup artist's 4 year old son who's--
"turning 5 in one week!" Caleb smiles at you.
You smile back at him through the reflection on the mirror. Trying to keep your head still, you exclaim as brightly as you can, "wow, Caleb! That must be so exciting!"
Caleb firmly nods, "mommy's going to do face paint!"
"Wow! That's great. Do you have a favorite character you want to do?"
"Hmm... maybe... paw patrol?"
"Ooooh. That sound exciting. Can you tell me a bit about that."
Caleb begins to explain that there are a bunch of dogs who work various jobs, like a policeman, firefighter, life guard, and begins to share his enthusiasm about the children's program.
Just in that moment, you finish your makeup and walk over to Caleb, the same time Chris comes up to you and joins in the conversation.
It's extremely evident to everyone though that Caleb is keen in conversing only with you and he's not about to let this six-foot moron take up your time.
Caleb drags you away, which elicits a laugh from everyone, Chris especially, as he melts into a booby grab laugh.
Chris is keen to join the conversation though and as your conversation swerves to Caleb's favorite superhero, the overly excited Chris tries to chime in, overestimating his capabilities to casual insert himself in Caleb's narrative.
"You know, Caleb," Chris crouches down in front of the couch you and the tiny child had sat on, "I'm actually kinda a superhero."
Caleb is utterly confused and visibly annoyed.
"Do you know the avengers?"
Caleb nods quickly.
"Well, I'm actually Captain America."
Caleb hits him with the side eye, and you are thoroughly amused, breaking into laughter. Caleb quickly turns to you and is disarmed into a laugh as well.
"Hmm? Does he look like Captain America to you Caleb?"
Caleb as quickly shakes his head.
Chris breaks into a laugh but doesn't hide the fact he's offended.
"What does he look like then?"
Chris foolishly tries to answer for him, "handsome?"
Caleb gives him a stinky look and absolutely ends his career, "you look ugly though."
Chris is silenced. The room erupts into wild laughter. Caleb absolutely flamed Chris' red, white, and blue undies.
The cherry on top is Caleb's mom managed to film all of this.
Chris begins to moan, "no, no, put the phone away. I want to talk to my manager. This is defamation!"
Cringy Interview
"Wait, what did you say?" Chris asks titling his head, knitting his brows, and narrowing his eyes, evidently annoyed. You were doing the junket type sort of interviews and this misogynistic interviewer asked you a question, namely, "did you have to work on your stamina to be able to keep up with Chris?"
Having been absolutely used to the shit questions people ask you, you actually broke into a laugh at how ridiculous the question was, when it had absolutely nothing to do with the film, or literally anything at all with the two of you for that matter.
While you were trying to catch your breath from laughing, Chris was starring daggers into the man's face as he waited for him to repeat himself.
Unfazed, probably because of how you had reacted, he dumbly repeats himself, not hearing himself talk at all, apparently.
Chris makes an incredulous look and you manage to say under your breath, "absolute ninnyhammer."
You release a sigh before responding, "this question has no relevance to the film. It's not like we did stunts."
The interviewer 'wittily' responds, "you had a jogging scene in the film!"
Chris visibly rolls his eyes. You smack a hand on your face and break into another laugh.
"For five seconds," Chris responds, "it doesn't take an Oscar nominee to act that out." He mutters under barely under his breath, "but of course you wouldn't know anything about that."
You break into another laugh because of this.
The infamous yacht clip
Now, no one knows exactly what happened on this yacht. The only facts are that you were a guest at a friend's birthday party and you are practically allergic to alcohol.
Well, actually that last part is debatable, considering no one actually knows how much you've had to drink.
And well, you're notoriously wild sober anyway, so the moment your brain shut off and you the alcohol fueling your every move, you turned into the embodiment of the life of the party.
I'm talking clip after clip of you on multiple celebrities stories, dancing on tables, dancing out of beat, and talking to every plant you see.
But what really went viral was you saying--
"Yeah, Chris has really, really bad farts. Like really, really bad," you readily admit to a friend whose camera's flash was open. "Like, I'm sorry if this is disenchanting but, yo, there was a reason he was Human Torch at one point of his career. The gas that man passes is nuclear grade fuel. It stinks and even hurts your eyes! He needs to see a doctor about that."
"OMG, for real?"
"Wait... who are we talking about again?"
"... Chris Evans, love."
"OMG, I was in a movie with him, did you know!?"
And now, by far, the best clip on the internet that perfectly encapsulates the essence of the Evans-Y/L/N relationship
A bunch of stories from Chris' newly mare instagram account.
Clip A
Chris is filming with the back of his phone. You're sat across him. It pans from his lap, to the food on the table, to you with your eyes squinting because of how bright it is, "say hi to the camera!"
"Hi to the camera," you reply, doing a peace sign and duck lips.
"Yuck," Chris says, quickly turning the camera to him, doing the same pose, "this is how you do it folks."
You shudder off cam, "that must be so embarrassing trying to fit in."
The camera quickly pans back to you, "well, I'll have you know--"
Clip B
A boomerang of you and Chris eating ice cream and pie. You're holding up a plate and a fork with a bit of pie and ice cream and you're trying to feed Chris. In its boomerang nature, it's a repeating clip of you bringing up the utensil to Chris' mouth and missing by a hair. You can barely see your shocked expression coming out and Chris' pain reaction somewhere by the end.
It's captioned with, "this is why you should leave stunts to the professionals, kids."
Clip C
It's the aftermath of the said clip.
You're making sobbing sounds in the background. Chris brings the phone up to him and wipes his grinning lips off with a tissue. You are nuzzled up on his chest, moving your head back and forth, arms secured around his torso.
Chris brings his available arm around you and pulls you close as he laughs, then says, "it's fine, babe."
"No, you're bleeding."
Chris' eyes crinkle, and suddenly he drops his expression, "well, you know there's no denying the fact you tried to kill me with a fork and poke my gums out."
You muffle against hus shirt.
"This is it for you, sadly. You'll never work in Hollywood again. All those years of hard work down the drain. What would your mother say?" Chris scoffs suddenly, "I'm posting this as evidence. Everyone take note of this heinous act."
Clip D
A boomerang of you and Chris in an entirely different setting at night, eating ice cream. Chris pushes his chocolate ice cream on your cheek as you smile for the camera.
It's captioned, "Got em."
Clip E
Okay, the last clip isn't from Chris' instagram, it's from yours. It's a boomerang as well of you and Chris smiling at the camera and sharing a kiss. The key moment is when you reach for his cheek and place your hand on his face, showing the very evident ring on your finger.
"Gotem," it's captioned, with a tiny, tiny, tiny sub-caption that reads, "when I tell you how many times we took this to get it right."
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Text
ALPHABET BOY- S.G ROGERS
Pairing: Brothers Best Friend! Steve x Innocent! Fem! Reader
Word Count: 3.6k
Summary: you despise steve and his constant teasing with you- the younger sister of his best friend bucky barnes. little do you know that teasing is flirting, and it comes in handy when you’re trapped at a costume party with no way home. 
Warnings: SMUT, fingering, daddy kink, petnames, slight breeding kink, praise kink, swearing, size kink (steve is like 6′5), dry humping, slight degradation kink, lots of teasing, alcohol and drugs mentioned 
“i'm not a little kid now, watch me get big now- spell my name on the fridge now with all your alphabet toys.... you won the spelling bee now, but are you smarter than me now? you're the prince of the playground little alphabet boy” - alphabet boy, melanie martinez 
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You were sick of him. 
Sick, sick, sick. 
He plagued your brain, consuming you whole like some flesh-eating maggot. The thought of him was enough to send shivers down your back, make your stomach curl in on itself like rotten milk. 
Steve scared you. 
He scared you in a way you didn’t even know was possible, in a way that was rooted deep in your core. The embarrassment you got whenever he was around sent you spiraling. 
You were the shy, timid and innocent little sister to Bucky, though you weren't so little, he and his friends always thought of you that way. 
I’m not a little kid! You’d often whine to him as he teased you, times never changing. Steve was Bucky's best friend, a brother to him if you will. Always lurking around, always popping up in places you'd least expect him. 
He was the character that was always slouched on the couch when you got home, acting as if it were his house, and you were the guest. You might as well be, with the way he teased you. 
Always making your cheeks heat whenever he mocked you, called you names, picked on you for your cutesy, little pink outfits. It made your toes curl in their socks, your hands balling into little fists as if you were fighting the urge to swing at him. 
He’s being mean to me again Bucky! You’d often call from your bedroom as Steve towered over you, leaning against your bedroom door frame- eyeing you up like you were the star dish on the menu. 
Let him! He’d call back, making Steve’s smirk grow even wider. 
It was torture, being around him. Any comments you shot back to him ended up backfiring almost immediately. 
You were smaller, dumber, younger- didn’t you know better? 
No, you wanted to snap back. No, I don’t know any better. Because I’m stubborn and he’s being a tease. 
Steve would build you up like building blocks, just to bring you back down again. Yet you refused to be away from him for too long. Yes the thoughts made you feel sick, tummy starting to ache as you thought of his cool, stern gaze, that cocky smile and biceps as large as your head.
 It made your thighs clamp, palms turn clammy when you thought of the happy trail that lingered down his abs whenever he’d stretch and yawn while him and Bucky were watching the game, knowing you were watching from behind your little hiding spot. 
Damn him. Damn him and his mocking, pretentious ways. Damn him for always winning you back over, with little sweets and treats and the odd compliment, or attention he knew you so desperately craved.
 It was obvious, how drawn to him you were, like a lost puppy. Though you tried to fight it, you were always rewarded with a snarky comment. 
You’re so dumb. So dumb, such a baby. 
You could never win, when it came to Steve. He was the golden child in everyone’s eyes, always doing the right thing, always working so hard and succeeding! You were just trying your best, getting the soft, sad smile along with it. 
They didn’t see how Steve treated you. They didn’t notice the sly looks he gave you, knowing he had beat you at every hand he dealt. 
He was the prince of the playground. You were just a pawn for him, something to direct his mocking, sarcastic ways towards. Though you refused to cry in front of him, knowing that would irk his comments even more.
 I’m just teasing you rabbit. Don’t be so sensitive. Was his form of an apology. And you ate it up every single time, licking the plate and utensils before seconds.
 It was cat and mouse between the two of you, always pulling each other's leg. Or hair, in his case. The sexual attraction you felt towards him was undeniable, nonetheless. You were drawn to him and his charming ways, the facade he put on for others. 
How could no one see him? The real him? 
The Steve who always trailed his hand up your leg to pinch your thigh tightly when you were forced to sit next to him, the Steve who always looked at you as if you were his next meal. 
He was an angel to the world, but his halo was anything but bright. You thought of him now, in your own set of angel wings- costume party in full swing. It was late, the hour growing long and you wanted nothing more than to stumble home. 
Even if that meant taking yourself. 
The alcohol was buzzing in your system, the bottle drowning you way past your limit. You were such a sucker for peer pressure, wanting nothing more than to please others. 
So you drank, and drank, and drank until you were a babbling mess, the world seeming to bend over backwards, flipping each and every way as you adjusted your little wings and took another sip of some fruity cooler. 
It was so saccharine you swore your teeth started to tingle as it swished around your mouth. 
You needed to leave. 
It was too stuffy and hot, bodies all packed together as the wallpaper glistened from the low lights, and the smoke started to cover everything like a shield. Nobody listened to you, your friends long gone as you attempted to beg for an exit, an escape route for you to stumble down. 
Everyone had morphed into another being- you weren't sure who was who anymore, with all the masks and makeup. It was not your scene. Not at all. 
Somehow, after a few loud, floor-shaking songs later you had managed to stumble over to a hallway, slowly guiding yourself past the couples who were dry-humping eachother against the picture frames, kissing with so much teeth and tongues it was like they were having a battle on who would gasp for air first.
The red solo cup had slipped from your nibble fingers, clattering against the hardwood and splashing red up against the walls. 
It looked like blood. 
The cool air hit you like a train on a track as you stepped out into the dark abyss, large forest looming in front of you as the porch light flickered. The shadows of the trees looked like clawed fingers against the grass, the gust of wind causing goosebumps to spread up your arms. 
You needed to get home. 
There was a trail that connected this property to yours, though it was long and windy. The smart thing to do was to call Bucky, explain to him the situation. 
I’m drunk. Like really drunk. And I’m scared and I need someone to hold just for a few minutes while they take me home. It was a mistake and I’m so sorry, I really am. 
But he wouldn't hold you. He probably wouldn’t even pick you up, saying it was your fault for getting in this situation, so you should find a way out of it.
 No, no that was intrusive thoughts talking. You couldn't tell the difference anymore. Everything in your brain was swimming, the world stretching and warping like a fushigi ball. 
Bucky would pick you up. Of course he would. But you knew the consequences that would come with it. Which is exactly why you put another foot forward, pushing yourself off of the old, weathered siding. 
You would be treated like a child, mocked at for being so careless. Well, he could shove that mocking up his ass. You were tired of him and his friends always being so mean, always bullying you because you were seen as careless. 
You didn’t need any company, but it didn’t mean you were opposed to it. A shadow, one even more intimidating than the towering trees appeared, lingering behind you. It was stretched, shoulders wide as you peered down at it. 
“You shouldn't be out here all alone.” the voice murmured, low and deep as you turned. Your eyes met with a strangers, mask covering his face- deep looming pulled eyes staring at you. 
Ghostface. 
You had seen that movie with Steve and Bucky, though you had never been a fan of scary movies. “It’s not safe for little girls like you, you know.” he drawled on.
 It should've scared you, his sudden interest in you. He had appeared out of nowhere, quite literally from nowhere, keening to the likes of you. But it made you feel special, knowing this mystery man was talking to you.
 “I’m not alone, you’re out here.” you giggled, stumbling forward towards his 6’5 frame. You felt a weird desire to be in this mans arms- though there was no doubt about it that it was the booze that rushed to your head. 
“You should be scared angel. Not stumbling towards a stranger, all doe eyed like that.” 
“But you seem nice!” you chirped out, forgetting your original mission to make way back to your home. You liked this man. You liked Ghostface. 
“ Mhm you’re lucky I am. I take pity on little girls like you.” His arm extended, tight black henley sleeves rolled up to his bulging biceps. Mystery mans hand was warm to the touch, the brush of skin against your own sent heat licking down your spine. It was then you noted the tattoo that was all too familiar, the twist and curves of black ink that bent around his wrist like a snake. 
Steve. 
“Steve?” The hand that shrugged off the mask confirmed your suspicions, long blonde hair curling at the nape of his neck, blue eyes sparked with mischief. 
“You really shouldn't be so vulnerable, ya know. What if I actually was a stranger? It’s dangerous.”
 The scolding began. You were too dazed out to fight back, tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. 
“I’m sorry, I really am. Just- just don’t tell B-bucky!” you hiccupped, praying he would help you. This was the first time you had needed Steve. Had wanted him to stay, and actually care. 
He clucked his tongue. “I won’t. But we need to get you home, yea? Silly girl. Silly, silly girl.”
 “I’m sorry.” was all you could mutter, stumbling as he squeezed your hand as a sign of reassurance, fighting off the chill of the night air.
 “Don’t be stupid. You weren't thinking of going in the woods alone, were you? There really must not be a brain in there after all.” he mocked, taunting you as he guided you onwards, towards the creaking trees, their limbs dangling down like claws that would scratch your skin lean off, leave you bare and vulnerable. 
You took a deep breath, the fresh air heightening your senses as a twig snapped from under his weight, a soft tune leaving his lips as he whistled. You shuddered, leaning into him more, his larger hand in yours squeezing your digits a little tighter.
 “You scared angel?”
 “N-no. Never scared.” you lied, staring straight ahead, though you couldn't see much besides his flashlight beam aimed at the little path in front of you. 
“Not even when I spooked you that one time when you were with that pink bunny stuffie in your bedroom? What were you doing with it anyways?” 
Humping it to the thought of you, you wanted to confess but kept your lips shut. 
“Having a tea party.” you grumbled, to which he laughed. It brought you a sense of comfort in the moment- that laugh. It wasn't mean, or directed. It was just easy, carefree, and light as it bounced off an invisible sound barrier.
 He wasn't laughing at you. He was laughing with you.
 “Cute. You’re so cute bunny. You know that?” 
“No.” you giggled, cheeks heating as hot as the sun, whether it was from the booze or his affections, you didn’t know. It seemed like time was stretched and warped, the path ending as soon as it started when you were with Steve. 
You felt weirdly protected with him near, the warmth of his body drawing you closer, the scent of his cologne making your head spin as he murmured to you. It was hard to comprehend what he was saying, your mind in a different place as you stumbled into your backyard. 
The lights were off, the structure appearing empty and hollow as you stared up at it. “Looks like Bucko wouldn't of came anyways sweetheart.” he sighed, noting his car wasn't in the driveway, the doors appearing locked.
 “Does that mean I’m alone?” you asked, anxiety creeping into your voice. You didn’t think you could be alone tonight. You were too anxious and on edge to deal with the warped shadows, bending and following you like a contortionist. 
And if you puked, who said you’d be able to get off the bathroom tiles? 
“I’m staying with you angel. You’re too stupid to think for yourself right now.” 
You fought your urge to stick your tongue out at him, but you knew he was right. He teased you for having next to no thoughts in your brain all the time, but this time it was actually true.
 “Let’s go.” he tugged at your arm, causing u to stumble after him as he made his way towards the back door. His legs were so much longer than yours, stride extensive and full of authority. Steve knew exactly where to go, digging the key out of the hiding spot and unlocking the door. 
You didn’t even know how he knew where it was. You surely didn’t remember.
 The light flickered on, humming softly as it illuminated the little breakfast nook. “Steve why do you hate me?” you blurted out, hiccuping as you bent down to unbuckle your shoes, kicking them off by the door.
 His face contorted into a look of confusion as he peered down at you. “I don’t hate you bunny. Far from it.” 
You just nodded, taking his word for it. He was stumped by your level of compliance, as you normally would fight or bicker with him whenever he made a claim. But you were quiet, humming a little song as you trudged towards the stairs, hands out in front of you to guide you instead of turning on the rest of the lights.
 “Stev-” you gasped as suddenly your body was lifted from the ground, swung over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Your head spun as you stared at the world from a much taller height, body squirming as he moved.
 A hand smacked your thigh that poked from under your little dress, making you yelp. “Stop squirmin girl. You're not walking up these stairs.” he grumbled, making the trudge up the rickety wooden stairs, hand rubbing your thigh as you felt your panties start to dampen. 
His hand was so warm, so nice as it stroked your skin, even when it stung. 
“I’m fully- fully able to walk up.” you slurred and he chuckled.
 “Mhm I don’t think you should think for yourself right now baby bunny.” he teased, and you giggled. Your bedroom door opened with a creak, and he walked you past the pink walls, past the frilly whites and endless stuffies as he plopped you down on your bed. 
You laid back with a sigh, tracing the soft sheets with your fingers, sinking into them as you closed your eyes. Steve felt himself getting harder and harder the longer he gazed at you, so soft and delicate- like a little doll. 
You were so in your element, basking in the comfort of the silk and cotton, just savoring how fuzzy you felt in the moment. 
“Can you help me with my costume Stevie?” you whispered, eyes fluttering open to smile at him. He thought he was dreaming. He needed to be pinched. 
But you needed his help, craved for his touch again as you lay there- almost helpless. You swung your leg up, toes curling against his abdomen in your socks, stretching your arms over your head.
 “You’re such a tease, you know that?” he murmured, tugging at each sock, peeing them away from your skin to reveal your bubblegum pink nail polish. 
“Mhmm so tired though Stevie. I can’t do anything.” 
“Oh I know.” he smirked, hands slowly inching their way up towards your thighs, fingers walking their way across your skin. 
“Just need your help, you gotta take care of me.” you giggled, back arching as he tugged at your dress, pulling off the rest of your costume. Your breasts were bared, shining in the pale moonlight as the air whooshed past his teeth. 
No bra.
 “Fuck. Fuck fuck.” he murmured as you giggled softly, batting your eyelashes at him as if you were a schoolgirl. “What’s the matter Stevie?” you asked, reaching for him, nails softly scraping against his biceps. 
“You’re so fucking adorable angel. Jesus Christ.” 
“Yeah?” you smiled, grabbing his hand, guiding it down towards your lacey underwear that was now soaked, letting his fingers circle your button through the fabric. 
You moaned, back arching against the sheets as he smiled, that wicked grin that drove you wild. You couldn't help yourself. You were on cloud nine, head in the heavens from the way he looked at you, the way he touched you. 
Hands slipped up to grope your breasts, massaging them, squeezing each nipple as your mouth parted into an O shape, moaning his name. His hands slipped under your undergarments, fingers coaxing you open as your legs fell limp- purely under his control. Submissive and willing for him. 
It drove him wild, the sweet, innocent little sister of his best friend- the person he had craved for years was now under him looking like a doll.
 “Gotta open you up first princess. Don’t wanna hurt your sweet, little hole hm?” he whispered, thumb circling your clit, so sensitive under his flesh, aching for him. 
You were just so needy, practically begging him- words slurring as you humped his hand, mindlessly reaching for one of your stuffies to cling to as your body rode him. 
“Mhmm so… daddy..” you gasped out, emitting a low growl from his lips. You moaned into the fur of the animal, to which he quickly ripped away. 
“Don’t hide your sweet little noises for daddy baby, don’t you know better? We’re all alone here, just the two of us. But even if we weren't, wouldn't you want everyone to know how good daddy's fingers feel stuffed in your cunnie?” 
You nodded viciously, gasping for breath as heat licked down your spine, burning bright in your core as he rocked into you deeper. It was taken away in an instant, a startled gasp leaving your lips in disappointment before you saw his hands fumbling with his belt, muttering under his breath. 
“Fuck I’m sorry angel but I can't take this anymore.I need- I need to be inside you I’m-” 
You whimpered as he tugged down his bottoms as quickly as the two of you had entered this tangled affair, barely having a second to process what was happening before he was in you, and he was in you deep. 
Plunging straight to the hilt, hands clawing at his biceps as you moaned, cried his name so sweetly he almost combusted right then and there.
 “I’m so sorry angel I just- been waiting too long, FUCK you’re so goddamn tight n wet..” he murmured, head drooping low as he breathed you in, watched the way your juices coated his cock as he slipped out just slightly, only to plunge in even harder. 
You clung to him so nicely, as if you were just made for him and only him, delicate and dainty. It was so easy to make you drool, so easy to watch you melt deeper into the mattress as he used you as his own personal fleshlight, muscles tensing and flexing as they adjusted you to the exact positions he wanted you in. 
“You’re so good to me Stevie. So, so good, filling me…” you sighed, eyes hazy and glazed over as you peered up at him, admiring the man you hated with a passion, but the one you also craved like a drug. 
He was so careful with you, guiding your tipsy body home, but so rough and eager with you now, as if he was feral.
 “Stevie?” you asked softly, face distorting slightly the longer he looked at you, confusion now smeared across your face like a kids finger painting. “Stevie?” 
You were muffled- trapped underwater. Murky. 
His eyes flew open with a start, meeting yours as he blinked the fuzz away. His hand was so close to your body, just mere inches away from the place he had been touching you in his dream. 
“Mhm?” he asked, noting he had somehow ended shirtless in your bed, the girly bedsheets wrapped around his low midriff, and you fought not to stare down at his happy trail. 
“You were dreaming I think. Mumbling something.” you slurred, head smacking down back onto the pillow as he stared at you, your eyes now closed once more. 
He didn’t fully remember what had happened. He had teased you, felt you up, and helped you home. But now he was in your bed, despite the fact the two of you bickered constantly, and nothing had happened. 
Your little skimpy pj’s were still on. His boxers were on. Though he wished more than anything they were off, that everything was off and he could feel you the way he had ten seconds earlier. 
He watched the steady rise and fall of your chest as you fell back into a drunken slumber, hand slipping over to cup your warm cheek before he could stop himself. 
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nicoline1998enilocin · 5 months
Text
Flufftober Day 25 | Reading nook
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Pairing | Husband!Steve Rogers x Civilian!Wife!Pregnant!Female!Reader
Word count | 3.2K
Summary | You recently moved into a new house that'll accommodate you and your growing family, but your one wish in the new house has yet to come true. You've wanted a reading nook for a long time, and when you're away on business, Steve decided to surprise you by making the reading nook of your dreams.
Warning(s) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Established relationship (husband and wife), pet names (Love Bug, Bubba), mentions/descriptions of pregnancy, smut (implied fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), oral F receiving, cum eating), mentions of breastfeeding, Steve being the sweetest husband and Dad in existence.
Prompt(s) | 25. Nook | @flufftober
A/n | This one shot it written for day 25 of Flufftober 2023. I hope you will all enjoy this GIF with me, because I have been drooling and dripping while writing this since I couldn't stop looking at it 🖤
A/n 2.0 | Thank you to @jamesbuckybarnes1917 for proofreading this; it's appreciated as always! 🖤
Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 🧡
Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | GIF credit to the owner
Main Masterlist | Steve Rogers Masterlist | Flufftober Masterlist
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You're six months pregnant with your husband's daughter and are still over the moon about the little life growing inside your belly. But the one person who's even more excited about it than you are is your wonderful husband, Steve Rogers.
He will make sure every day that you know how much he loves you and how thankful he is for carrying his baby, either by telling you, getting you little gifts or flowers, or by making love to you in every way possible, like he is right now.
Your sex drive has quadrupled during your pregnancy, and Steve is definitely not complaining about it for even a second. Where he thought you were sex driven before, now you are insatiable.
It's a good thing you're married to a super soldier, to say the least.
"Can't wait to feel you wrapped around me again, Love Bug," Steve whispers in your ear as you're coming down from your fourth orgasm, as he has been working you open with his thick, long fingers.
He keeps paying particular attention to your growing belly as he hovers over you, careful not to lean on it while lining up with your entrance. This position has become more difficult lately, but you can still make it work.
You gasp as he's lined up and slowly sliding in, and it's still a slight stretch as he's pushing in slowly, your moans combining with his groans as they fill the room around you.
"S-Steve!" you whimper loudly as he slides home, hitting your sweet spot right on the first try. His hard, throbbing cock fills and stretches your dripping cunt perfectly.
"Oh god, feels so fucking good around me," Steve grunts as he pulls back and thrusts back in, doing it all at a slow, loving pace that has you seeing stars by the time you reach your fifth orgasm.
"Gonna cum inside you, Love Bug, will give you every last drop of my cum before getting on my knees and licking it all out of that sweet, delicious pussy of yours. Can never get enough of tasting both of us," he tells you, and his deep, rumbling voice has your back arching into him.
Before you can respond, he picks up the pace, and the sound of skin against skin flies through the room as you're both chasing your inevitable highs.
"Steve, fuck! 'm cumming!" you yell out, and a flood of warmth rushes through your body, and as you clench around him, your orgasm pushes him out of you, followed by a rush of hot liquid.
"I fucking love it when you squirt for me," Steve says before inserting his throbbing cock again, and it only takes three or four thrusts for him to shoot all his cum inside you.
Steve kept his promise as he crawled down your body and placed a trail of kisses down your body until he reached your soaked, throbbing pussy, which he devoured with an unmatched lust you'd never seen from him before.
Your hands are in his hair and tugging harshly to pull him that much closer, his beard and mustache providing the perfect friction as he eats you out, his tongue diving into your entrance to lick up every last drop of your combined cum until all he can taste is you.
When he's done, he flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue, but it's overly sensitive right now, and you push him away. The grin on his face is out of this world as he flops down next to you and pulls you close.
"And they say I'm the insatiable one," you giggle as you're coming down from your high; Steve's panting as he's catching his breath next to you.
"How can I not be when you're looking this delicious for me, Love Bug?" he says, and you feel a rush of warmth through your cheeks, reddening them immensely and making you blush.
"Can't tell you how in love I am with you, Love Bug. I'm so thankful that I've met you in this lifetime, and having a chance to start the family I've always dreamt of is more than I could ever want," he says, his warm hand splayed over your stomach.
"I love you too, Steve, more than you'll ever know," you say before turning onto your side and placing your hand on his cheek before capturing his lips with yours in a sweet, soft kiss.
The two of you stay in bed like that for a bit longer, with soft touches, lingering kisses, and sweet words exchanged while you're basking in the warmth of your super soldier.
Just when you're about to tell Steve that it's time to get up, his phone rings, and the grunt he lets out is unmistakable; there aren't many things he hates more than being bothered on his day off.
"What?!" he barks through the phone, and you jump a little from his sudden change in demeanor, which Steve notices. He instantly reels himself back as he listens to the person on the other end of the phone.
"Is there no other way around this? You know this is my day off-" he says, but to no avail. He has to come in and go on this mission because everyone else is already on a mission, and they need someone with experience like himself.
"Right, be there in 2 hours," he sighs before hanging up the phone and letting his head fall back into the pillows with a loud grunt to show his dissatisfaction.
"It's okay, Bubba; we can get started on my reading nook another time. Our little girl isn't here yet after all," you say, and Steve turns his head so you can see how sorry he is.
"Shall we at least take a shower together? I could use more of your cuddles until I have to go out and go on that mission," he asks with a slight pout, and you can't help but chuckle.
You lean forward and grab his jutted-out bottom lip softly with your teeth, nibbling softly, and when you feel his hands grip your hips, you know your mission is achieved.
"C'mon, let's make the most of this shower," you say before carefully getting up. You're glad for the higher bed you two got when moving in because it makes it easier for you to get up without Steve's help, though it probably wouldn't take long before that was over, too.
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"Bubba?" you call into the house when you walk in through the front door, and it doesn't take long before you hear your husband's feet happily trotting over to you, and you get a big grin on your face.
"There's my beautiful wife," he says before enveloping you in his arms, and you allow yourself to melt into his warmth, letting go of all the stress you had during the day.
Ever since you found out you're pregnant, you've taken a step back from your usual workload, but there are still many things that need to be taken care of before you can officially go on maternity leave in a month.
"How's my little Love Bug doing today?" he asks, and you sigh softly before telling him about some issues that have come up in one of your restaurants in Florida.
"It means I have to go there next week to ensure everything is going well, but I had hoped I could have just stayed home with you for as long as possible," you sigh. Being a restaurateur and owning the number of restaurants you do has downsides, especially when you're nearly 7.5 months pregnant.
"How long do you think you'll be gone for?" he asks, and that's when you tell him you'll be gone for a week at the very least, but depending on the situation, it could be up to 2 weeks.
It immediately sparks an idea in Steve's mind, and he's excited that you won't be here for at least a week because that gives him the perfect amount of time to set his plan into motion and finish it before you come back home as well.
After bringing you to the airport and staying with you as long as possible, he finally found his way to the Compound, searching for Bucky. He could use his help for this one.
"Hey man, what're you doing here? I didn't think we'd see you much after moving out," Bucky jokes as he sees his best friend, and they hug each other before Steve tells him about his plan.
"I've told you we're considering building a reading nook, right? Now that Y/N is in Florida for a week for business, I want to surprise her with exactly that when she comes home. It's her dream to have it done before our little girl arrives, so I'm here to ask you for some help," Steve explains, and Bucky is on board right away.
Over the next week, he proceeds to renovate the room that was first an office but will now serve as a reading room where you can retreat and have some much-needed quiet time.
The walls are painted dark green, and the two longest walls on either side are filled with large, white bookcases. Most squares hold your precious books, but a few are left empty here and there, so you can fill them with your Harry Potter replica collection.
The floor is hardwood, but the white rug is soft and warm so that you won't have cold feet in winter. In the corner is a dark green velvet armchair, precisely the one you've told him you'd love to have.
Over the back of the chair is a blanket that matches the rug on the floor, and there's a little side table next to your chair for you to put a candle, drink, or some books.
It's all finished with photos of you and Steve on the wall and a few empty frames in which there will be photos of you, Steve, and your baby girl, who will be here very soon.
It took both Bucky and Steve nearly all week to finish, but the result is stunning, and Steve can't wait to see your reaction. It's a good thing he didn't have to wait long.
He picked you up from the airport, and before you could even do so much as lift a finger at home, he grabbed your hands and kissed them softly.
"I have a surprise for you upstairs, and as soon as you're on the top of the stairs, I need you to close your eyes for me, okay?" he says softly, and you nod, your excitement already peaking since you love surprises.
He leads you up the stairs, and when you close your eyes, you feel his big hands on your waist, his chest against your back, leading you to the former office.
"Stay here, Love Bug. When I tell you to open your eyes, you can look, okay?" he asks, and you confirm, so you rock back and forth on your feet in anticipation of the surprise.
"You can open them!" he says excitedly, and when you do, you're standing in front of what used to be the office but has now been transformed into your dream, your very own reading nook.
"Steve, this is amazing!" you say as you slowly walk in, and you giggle at the soft fur of the rug tickling the soles of your feet while you walk in and take in the room around you.
"It's everything I could have dreamt of and more," you say as you try to fight the tears, but you're feeling so incredibly grateful for this surprise that you can't hold them back.
"It's perfect, Steve, thank you," you say through soft sniffles, and he wipes away your tears with his large thumbs before capturing your lips in the sweetest, most loving kiss.
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During and after your maternity leave, you have spent a lot of time in your nook, often with Steve as you were both reading, him seated in the chair, and you sideways on his lap as you enjoyed each other's company while reading your books.
But ever since the birth of your daughter, Lauren, your reading nook has transformed into a safe space to breastfeed, as well as your quiet area. This has become your little relaxation room inside the house, and you couldn't be happier.
"How's she doing?" Steve asks as he walks in after his shower, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, his torso bare, and water droplets dripping from his long, blond hair onto his broad shoulders and muscled back.
"She's doing amazing; she latched on without a problem and all by herself this time," you tell him proudly, and your smile lights up the entire room. You've been having some difficulties while breastfeeding, but they eventually resolved themselves, and she can finally eat without too much help.
"I'm so proud of you both," Steve says before bending down to kiss the top of your head, and when he pulls away, the doorbell suddenly rings, announcing the arrival of the Avengers as they're both here to see your new house and your daughter.
"I'll leave you two to do your own thing for a while, okay?" Steve says with a big smile, and you nod in response. He leaves your room door slightly open before quickly grabbing a clean shirt and putting it on while practically running down the stairs.
"Come on in! She's feeding little Lauren right now, but when she's done, both of them will join us," you hear Steve say, and you smile a little before turning to the next page of your book. Being at home so much is the perfect time to get through your never-ending pile of books that you still have to read.
When the Avengers have settled in the living room with a drink and some snacks on the table, Steve walks back upstairs to check on the two of you.
"Are you still okay to see the others when you're done, Love Bug?" Steve asks after poking his head around the corner, and you look up at him after being pulled from a good section of your book.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?" you say as a blush creeps over your cheeks, and Steve can't help but smile; he loves it when you're so wrapped up in your books you don't even realize there's a world going on besides the one you're pulled in to.
Steve enters the room and crouches in front of the chair you're sitting cross-legged in. "I asked if you're still up for seeing the others when you're done feeding her, but if you'd rather stay here and read, I understand."
"No, no! I'd love to see them, but it might be nice to shower before I do; I feel like a smelly person right now," and Steve nods understandingly.
"Okay, just let me know when she's done so I can get her, and you can take your shower, alright?" he says before getting up and capturing your lips in a soft kiss, his hand protectively holding Lauren's head as he does so.
"I love you both so much," he sighs as he looks at Lauren, who has the same bright blue eyes as himself but shares your hair color - the perfect combination of both.
After about 45 minutes, you're all done feeding, burping, and changing little Lauren, so you text Steve that she's ready to go, and in no time, he's by your side, ready to show her off to the rest of his colleagues.
"You're the best Mom we could both ask for, Love Bug," he says before grabbing little Lauren from the changing table and kissing you before he lets you do your own thing.
"Right, I'm going to take my shower now," you say, and Steve walks down the stairs after one more peck on your lips. Lauren looks up at Steve with her big, blue eyes that dart around curiously.
"Everyone, I would like for you all to meet our gorgeous daughter; this is our little miracle called Lauren Rogers," he says with a proud smile on his face, and everyone melts over the sight of your daughter.
After a relaxing shower, you get dressed in a simple tank top combined with your Cookie Monster pajama pants and glasses, not bothering to put in your contacts right now.
"There's our glowing Mother!" Tony says as he spots you walking into the living room, where all the Avengers are seated and cooing over your daughter, who's taking a nap and snoring softly in Clint's arms.
You place yourself sideways on Steve's lap in the big armchair and let yourself plop against his chest, your head resting against his shoulder. The evening is spent cooing over Lauren, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, and just enjoying each other's company.
By 8:30 PM, you've fallen asleep in Steve's arms, the exhaustion of the last few months making you fall asleep much faster than usual, and you grab every little bit of sleep you can get.
"Love Bug?" he says as he tries to wake you, but to no avail.
"I'll be right back; I'll just bring her to bed," he says, and after Steve put you to bed with many soft kisses on your head and tucked you in tightly, he returned downstairs and brought Lauren to bed so she could continue her sleep in her crib.
When all the Avengers eventually returned to the Compound, Steve found his usual place behind you underneath the duvet, his hand still lying on your belly, which has become a habit during your pregnancy, and he still couldn't shake it.
He falls asleep quickly, and you wiggle a few times to get even more comfortable in his hold; once you're wholly melted into him, you have the best night's sleep you've had in a while.
The following day, you wake up without Steve by your side, so you get up and investigate what's going on. When you suddenly smell the sweet scent of french toast wafting from the kitchen, you can't help but smile since it's your favorite.
Steve's carrying Lauren in a cloth sling on his bare chest, where she's happily sitting while he bounces up and down carefully so as not to cause her any trouble.
"G'morning, you two," you say as you stand behind Steve, arms wrapped around his waist and your daughter. This is the perfect way to hug both simultaneously and allow your husband to finish making breakfast.
"Mornin' Love Bug," he says, and the deep morning voice that comes out of Steve's chest sounds like honey, sending a shiver down your spine. You hold the two of them a little longer until Lauren suddenly makes a sound, and you're snapped out of your bubble.
"She's okay! It was just a little babble; she's been doing it the entire time, actually," Steve says with a proud look, and you're practically melting on the spot.
"Oh, she's growing up so fast! I can't wait until she can talk; I bet she'll talk just as much as me," you say before preparing the dinner table for breakfast. Once you're finally seated to have breakfast, you and Steve have a casual conversation while cooing at Lauren simultaneously, and this morning is perfect.
"I love you so much, Love Bug," Steve says before leaning over to kiss you, and when your lips slot together perfectly with his, you feel like you're in heaven on earth.
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sergeantxrogers · 2 years
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| one for the road |
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Summary: Clint had a wife? Clint had children? Steve was just as shocked as any of them to find out about Barton’s double life, yet what was even more shocking to him was Clint’s oldest daughter, who seemed to sink her claws into Steve’s skin the minute they met and keep them there, unremoved, as he felt himself get pulled deeper and deeper into the workings of her inner mind with every smile of hers. 
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barton!reader
Word count: 4.6k
Warnings: Some fluff, mentions of reader being worried and sad, age gap (reader is 20, Steve is a bajillion years old), reader is Clint’s daughter
Note: part 2
_______________
The farm was usually peaceful. Your days would be filled with the sounds of your siblings watching cartoons, or the tea kettle whistling, or your mother humming to herself as she cooked, whatever vegetables she had thrown in the pan sizzling softly. 
There were the rare occasions on which your father would finally drop by, staying for a few nights before having to fly out on a mission again. Those days were filled with laughter, your brother and sister yelling happily as your dad recounted the adventures he had been on for them, and silent tears as your mother hid away in the bathroom to weep because she knew, eventually, he would have to leave again, and every single time was harder than the last because you didn’t know if this would be it. The last time you ever saw your father alive and smiling. 
She thought you didn’t notice, but you did. You kept track of every little thing that went on with her, and with him, and even heard bits and pieces of their worried conversations late at night behind closed doors. But you didn’t want her more worried than she already was, so you kept it all in. Bottled up your own concerns and forced a huge smile to your face as you drank in the view of your family together at the dinner table. 
So, other than that, the farm was usually peaceful.
Usually.
Today, it seemed, was not one of those days. 
You heard the familiar engine of the quinjet before you saw it, and you hurried over to your bedroom window to watch it soar down and land into the trees. The giddiness in your bones picked up pace as you watched the door open, and your father stepped out, with an arm wrapped around a seemingly glum Aunt Nat. 
Your brows furrowed as you squinted your eyes against the sun, catching against the silver glint of metal behind your father. You focused your gaze, and your eyes widened as you took in a hammer and a head of blond hair. And another head of blond hair above broad shoulders as wide as the shield resting on them. 
Dad brought the Avengers home.
Your father bringing the rest of his team home could mean either one of two things: something really bad happened, or something really good happened. 
You had high doubts it was the latter.
You watched the men trail behind your dad, down the rocky path, past your barn, your eyes following them all the way until they reached your porch and disappeared under the sill of your window and you could no longer see them. 
The faint call of your father’s voice, followed by the happy screams of your brother and sister mixed with the low timbre of new, unfamiliar voices, pulled you from your window and down the stairs. 
“... off S.H.I.E.L.D’s records,” your dad had just finished explaining before he turned his head towards you.
The smile that grew on his face was almost as big as yours as you hurried toward him with open arms, slamming into his chest and pulling a huff from his lungs. 
“I missed you,” you muttered into his shoulder, and he patted your back.
“I missed you too, kid. I’m sorry I was gone so long this time.”
You pulled back, and met familiar eyes.
“Nat!” 
Natasha wrapped her arms around you before you could say another word, her hug bone-crushing, yet the pain of it was known to you and grounding. 
“I hope you haven’t been causing any trouble while I was away saving the world,” she whispered into your ear, and you smiled, rolling your eyes.
“It’s no saving the world,” you replied as you pulled away, “but I’ve been helping mom just fine.”
Someone cleared their throat to your left, and you finally turned your attention to the line of men standing in your now-too small living room, staring at you like you were a wild beast. 
“Hi,” you simply said, eyes going down the line, from one to the next, snagging on a particular tall blond with blue eyes and pink lips threatening to curl into a curious smile. “I’ve heard all about you guys.”
The shortest one - Tony, you knew, of course - blinked and stared at you. He pointed at you, then at your dad, then back at you, and gave your dad an incredulous look. 
“This - she’s - You made this?”
You bit back a smile when your dad sighed. 
“Yeah, Tony. Twenty years ago.”
Tony blinked at him, then back at you, and you smiled at him.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Stark. I’m Y/N.”
Tony squinted at you, but before he could say anything, the tallest one - Thor, obviously - stepped forward. You tried not to be intimidated by his sheer size and the fact that he was a god breathing the same air as you, and instead focused on smiling up at him politely, and not gaping at his hammer you had heard so many stories about - from your dad, and others. 
“I suspect you’re the eldest Barton offspring?” his booming voice asked, and you swore you could’ve laughed at the groan your dad let out behind you. 
You almost did laugh when Thor bent down slightly to be level with you, and squinted his eyes as he stared at you while you nodded. “Yup, that’s me. Firstborn, first raised.”
You held your breath as you stared at each other, and you were about to turn and hide behind your father until Thor broke out into a cheesy grin. He flung his heavy arm around your shoulders, and you grunted under the weight of the impact. 
“Well then we have something in common, mini-Barton,” he said proudly, and you breathed out a chuckle. 
Turning your head as best as you could in Thor’s grasp, you smiled at Bruce.
“Dr. Banner,” you said kindly.
He looked stunned at your acknowledgement of him, fidgeting with his fingers deep in the holes of his sweater as he gave you a small, albeit hesitant smile.
“I’ve heard so much about your brilliant work,” you continued, all the while trying to push Thor’s heavily muscled arm from your neck. “I think you’re quite possibly the greatest scientist of our time.”
You almost missed the little noise of protest that came from Tony as you finally pulled yourself free from the god, and you huffed lightly as you fixed your hair and shirt. Your eyes met baby blue when you stepped to the side, and you held your hand out.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” was what he replied, a teasing half smile on his plump lips threatening to distract you. He took your hand and held it a second longer than he should have in his firm grip.
“I’m Steve Rogers.”
“Yeah, I know who you are,” you breathed and nodded, and he gave you a smile that was more sincere than the one of amusement he was wearing a moment ago.
The toaster dinged behind you, pulling you from your trance as everyone’s heads turned toward the kitchen. 
“You guys hungry?”
_______________
This was bad. 
It was morally, ethically, completely wrong in it’s very principle core, and Steve knew that. Yet he couldn’t stop his eyes from following you as you moved about the kitchen, stacking plates on top of plates and forks on top of forks, helping Laura as the rest of them chatted. He caught the way you smiled to yourself at something your brother said, and the sad twinkle in your eye as Clint placed a kiss to your mother’s temple. 
Steve was in the middle of trying to tear his eyes away from the way your bare feet padded across the hardwood of the living room when he felt a kick to his ankle. 
He turned his head, only to find Natasha already looking at him with her eyebrows raised in question and something that seemed to be protectiveness. He answered with a defensive shrug of his shoulders and a shake of his head; he definitely had no idea what that look was about. 
“Steve?”
Your melodic voice pulled his attention back to you. “Yes?”
You gave him a small smile and lifted the glass you were holding. “I asked if you preferred orange juice or apple juice.”
“Oh,” he said lamely, and blinked a couple times before shaking his head. “Whichever one you prefer is fine.”
Your smile grew as you nodded and turned towards the counter. He watched you pour two glasses of apple juice, before turning back around and stepping around Tony carefully to bring him his glass.
“Thank you,” Steve said, looking up at you from his place at the table, and he meant it. You waved him off and went to sit at your own seat. 
“By the way,” your mother’s voice chimed, “I took the liberty of setting you all up in your rooms.”
You chewed your toast as you listened to her rattle off her bedroom planning: Natasha and Bruce were staying in one room, and Tony and Steve in another.
You missed the subtle wink your mom threw Nat when Tony cut in. 
“Uh-uh, no way,” he said, adamantly shaking his head above his plate. “Not a chance I’m sharing a room with Rogers.”
“Tony-” Steve began, but Tony glared at him.
“I’d rather die. Find somewhere else to go, Rogers.”
“Well,” Steve started with his brows furrowed. “Where do you recommend I go, Tony?”
Tony shrugged, unbothered by the situation. “Their barn is pretty big.”
Your dad tensed. Nat’s chair scraped slightly against the floor, and Steve opened his mouth to reply.
Before he could, though, you interrupted.
“My room,” you blurted out. They all turned to look at you, dumbfounded, and the look on your dad’s face had you scrambling to reiterate. “You can - you can take my room, I mean.”
Steve blinked at you, his harsh gaze softening. “Are you sure?”
You nodded, suddenly feeling small under so many pairs of eyes. “Yeah. I can sleep with Lila tonight.”
Nobody said anything, and you could see the uncertainty in Steve’s eyes as he contemplated your offer. 
“I insist,” you pushed. “It’s no big deal.”
Steve stared at you a moment longer, before nodding slowly. “Thank you.”
And he looked like he meant it.
_______________
How did he like his coffee?
Black? With milk? Did he even like coffee? Oh God, what if he didn’t like coffee?
You took in a deep worried breath, and let it out, all the questions clouding your mind leaving with it. You’d already made it, might as well bite the bullet now. 
You carried the mug through the house, careful not to spill hot coffee all over your hand and the floor, finally relaxing your shoulders when you made it to the front porch and set the mug down on the railing. 
They weren’t hard to spot; it wasn’t like there was much going on around the farm anyways, but at least now you had some nice eye candy to look at while you moped around the house. 
Tony and Steve were chopping wood. Well, Steve was chopping wood, and Tony was talking his ear off and occasionally splitting a log or two. You bit back a smile of amusement when you saw Steve visibly sigh at something Tony had said, and then he replied.
Your brows furrowed when they stepped closer to each other, and their voices raised. So, this wasn’t exactly a friendly conversation. 
Steve picked up a particularly large log, and cut off whatever Tony was saying by ripping it in half with his bare hands. Like it was a piece of paper. Your eyes widened, and you grabbed the coffee mug again. 
You were planning on waiting them out, content to watch them chop wood in their tight t-shirts until they finished, but by the defensive stance Steve had now taken up, you decided now was a better time than any to butt in. 
Your feet clambered down the creaky wooden stairs, and you tried not to seem panicked as you hurried your way over to them across the grass. 
“Hi-”
Both of them turned abruptly to look at you, and you gave them a small, slightly breathless smile, before turning to Tony.
“Um, dad said you wouldn’t mind... but our tractor in the barn won’t start and-”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take a look at it,” Tony said, waving you off before turning away. 
Before he left, he turned back to Steve and pointed at the chopped wood. “Don’t take from my pile.”
Steve watched him go with an amused smile quirking the corner of his lips, before he shook his head. 
Turning back to you, he rested his hands on his hips, and you swallowed heavily, focusing your eyes on his face and not the ripple of muscle with his every movement. Why does he buy such tight shirts?
He nodded to the mug in your hand. “What’s that?”
It seemed to pull you from your stupor, because you let out a soft “Oh!” before giving him a sheepish smile. You held out the mug towards him, and he stared at it in your hand, before his eyes flicked back to your face, and then he silently took the mug from you.
“I - I didn’t know how you took your coffee, or if you liked coffee at all, really, I just thought you could use a bit of a pick-me-up... which now that I think about it, sounds stupid, ‘cause you’re a supersoldier and you probably don’t even need pick-me-ups-”
“It’s perfect,” Steve interrupted after taking a sip, and the way he licked his lips after had you losing your train of thought. “Thank you, sweetheart.”
Your mouth fell open into a small O, and you nodded. “Cool. Great.”
Steve took a seat on the large stump of wood he had been using to chop wood on, and you perched yourself opposite him on Tony’s. He took another sip of coffee, blue eyes staring at you above the rim, and you loosed a small sigh.
“So... how’s farm life?”
You smiled, and shrugged lowly, letting your eyes fall to the ground. “It’s fine. Kind of boring sometimes, but there are other fun days that make up for it.”
He nodded as you spoke, and he then he looked up at your house. There was something there, in his eyes, in his gaze, that had you wanting to climb inside his mind and read every thought racing through it. It made you want to know what went on inside his head when he ran quiet. 
After a while, Steve spoke. “I always wanted a big house like this.”
His words were quiet, and you tilted your head. “You did?”
He nodded. “With a big porch, and a big yard for my kids to play in. On a farm, too. Chickens and tractors and horses, the whole nine yards.”
You couldn’t help but smile at the image planted inside your head. 
“So, why don’t you get one?”
His furrowed brows had you explaining. “A big house, I mean. And a porch and a yard for your kids.”
Steve was silent for what felt like a long minute, staring down at the coffee swirling in his mug, before smiling up at you sadly.
He shrugged. “I haven’t found the right person to do it with yet.”
“Oh. I see.”
____
Steve felt like someone had sucker punched him in the gut, knocking all the air from his lungs, and he willed himself to just keep breathing.
You probably had no idea how beautiful you were, sitting across from him, surrounded by the woodchips and the smell of sawdust, staring back at him with concern and something else in your bright eyes.
It took a broken person to know a broken person, and from the moment Steve laid eyes on you, he knew your smile was a little too wide, your laugh a little too loud, and your answers a little too urgent to be authentic. And as weird as it may have been, Steve wanted to crack your skull open and trickle into you, seep into your pores like a gas and swirl around in your lungs as he got to know you better. More intimately. 
But he couldn’t. So, he settled for sipping the coffee you made him and making small talk with you. After all, your parents were watching.
_______________
“This is so weird,” you admitted.
Steve gave you a funny grin, narrowing his eyes. “What?”
You held back a laugh as you shrugged, and held your hands out to gesture to the space around you, then to him.
“This is my room. And you,” you pointed at him, “are Captain America. And you’re sitting in my room, looking at all of my stuff, breathing in my air. You’re butt is on my study chair!”
Steve let out a laugh at that, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I get it now.”
He twisted in your chair, and his eyes caught on something colorful in the dim glow of your desk lamp, the only source of light other than the moon creeping over your windowsill. 
“What’s this?” he asked as he lifted it from the desk. 
“Oh! My photo album,” you said excitedly, and grabbed it from his hand before plopping yourself down onto the rug by his feet. “In truth, it’s just a random album I decorated and then filled with pictures I periodically stole from mom’s albums. But it’s mine.”
Steve chuckled, and pointed down at the album when you opened it. “Is that you?”
You nodded, and felt a slight heat rise to your cheeks at the prospect of showing Captain America your baby pictures. But it didn’t seem like he minded, so you brushed the thought away and continued.
You kept flipping through the pages, stopping every now and then when Steve had a question (”when was that?” or “that’s Barton?”), and eventually, the two of you had compiled a list of your favorites, and you had taken them out of the album and spread them around you on the rug. 
Your favorites mainly included pictures of your dad cringing while holding you with a full diaper (which was more often than you realized) and photos of Laura holding all three of you, each when you were babies. 
Steve was currently laughing at the idea of Clint Barton having to change poopy diapers, and you were smiling brightly up at him. 
His laughter slowly died down, and he let out a big sigh. It was only then that you noticed the slight tenseness in his shoulders, the faint bags under his eyes, and his weary but dopey expression. 
You swallowed heavily, but the lump in your throat refused to go away, so you decided to ignore it as best you could as you turned your body on the floor to face him. 
Resting your arms on his large thigh, and your head on your arms, you stared up at him. 
He seemed to calm down, all his movements and his breathing slowing and his eyes blinking down at you with lazy yet satisfied curiosity. 
“You’re tired,” was all you said, the words low and hanging in the air between you.
Steve searched your face for a moment, before subtly nodding. “I am.”
“Should I ask?”
He shook his head, bringing a hand down to grab one of yours, squeezing it lightly. 
“I’m tired, too.”
“I know,” he rasped. “I can tell.”
“How?”
“I can see it in your eyes when you smile.”
“Mmm.”
The few words exchanged between you were now mere whispers, as if both of you were afraid to be any louder, so as not to disrupt the peaceful lull you’ve created.
“And I’m scared,” you admitted quietly, and he frowned down at you. Immediately, you wanted the worried creases between his brows gone. They seemed to dim the light in his eyes. So, you changed your position, sitting on your haunches in front of him and raising a hand up to run your thumb between his brows, smoothing the skin and simultaneously pulling a pink blush to his cheeks.
“Scared of what, sweetheart?”
You shrugged sadly, even if you knew the answer. The orange glow from your lamp only made you seem sadder, so Steve leaned forward closer to you.
“Scared of what?” he repeated, and you sighed, meeting his eyes in earnest.
“I’m scared that... I’m scared of...” you began, but didn’t know how to formulate your thoughts, and you huffed. Steve squeezed your hand again.
You continued. “What if, one day, dad leaves us to go on a mission... and he just - doesn’t come back again?”
Even saying it out loud made you uneasy, a steady burning behind your eyes threatening to turn into pools of tears, and Steve sighed heavily.
“That won’t happen,” he muttered firmly, and you gave him a weary frown. 
“How do you know that?”
“Because I just do. Your dad loves you very much. All of you. And he’s very good at what he does,” he insisted, and you shrugged a bit. “In fact, he’s the best of us, I’d say.”
“Really?” you whispered, glancing up at him through your lashes, and Steve nodded.
“Really.”
You watched him, and he watched you. You sat in silence for a moment, before you cleared your throat softly.
“I’m... also afraid of something else.”
Steve’s brows shot up lazily. “Do tell.”
“I’m afraid that...,” you trailed off, and he nodded for you to continue. 
Was it just your imagination, or was he closer than he had been a minute ago? Steve’s eyes flickered to your lips, then met your gaze again. Your eyelids felt heavy.
“I’m afraid that this time, when dad leaves, I’ll be worrying about the safety of two people instead of one,” you finally murmured, and as soon as the words were out, Steve’s lips were on yours.
When had you closed your eyes? It didn’t matter. You couldn’t focus on anything with his soft lips melting into yours. 
One of Steve’s hands went up to your jaw, pulling you even closer to him in between his spread legs, and your own hands found their way to his comforting hoodie, pulling him in tighter.. Your lips parted slightly when you felt his tongue swipe at them, begging to be let in, and he sighed into your mouth when you tugged softly at his hair. 
You couldn’t help smiling against his lips, and in turn, causing him to smile too. Your teeth clashed into each other, and you giggled before pulling away. 
Steve Rogers was a supersoldier. Him being a supersoldier meant he had an abnormally fast metabolism, making him less susceptible to weight gain and loss than normal people. It also meant he couldn’t get drunk anymore, not with the amount of alcohol that was societally accepted, anyway. But right now, looking up at him, his eyes half-closed and a stupid smile on his flushed face, Steve looked drunk. 
Drunk on your kiss. Drunk on you. 
Your lips still tingled; you still felt him there, a phantom touch of the softness that tasted like mint and faint coffee. 
“I don’t need you worryin’ your pretty little head about me, doll,” Steve whispered, voice gravelly in his throat, and it sent a chill down your spine, settling in prickling needles at the base of it. 
“I want to, though. I need to worry about you now.”
Steve smiled, half in amusement, half in disbelief, as his hand wrapped around the back of your neck and pulled you in again.
_______________
“Mrs. Barton, you’ve truly been too kind,” Bruce’s polite words rang from somewhere in the house, and your mother’s reply followed them soon after.
You, Steve and Aunt Nat stood waiting for the rest of them on the porch. You had already said your goodbyes, but if you spent a second more inside the house with the heavy atmosphere and teary eyes, you would’ve had a breakdown. Natasha noticed this in the way your breathing became labored, and locked an arm through yours as she pulled you out the front door.
A comfortable silence surrounded the three of you as the chatter from inside the house carried through the windows, until it was broken by Nat swearing.
Steve frowned, turning towards her. “What is it?”
Nat patted around her pockets, then groaned. “I forgot my stupid GPS upstairs.”
“I can get it for you,” you offered, but Natasha waved you off with a roll of her eyes.
“It’s fine, honey, it’s my mistake anyways.”
And with that, she breezed past you, the screen door slamming shut behind her. Soon after, you heard a couple yells from inside the house, and you presumed she had made a slight detour caused by a tiny distraction.
You heaved out a sigh, and Steve leaned against the porch railing, smiling in amusement at you.
You glanced up at him, then glanced away before he could notice the red tinge to your cheeks. “What?”
He shook his head, but the smile never left his face. “Nothin’, sweetheart. Jus’ like lookin’ at you.”
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”
Steve chuckled, before pushing himself off the railing and taking a step towards you. 
You furrowed your brows in suspicion. “What are you doing, Rogers?”
“Oh, so it’s Rogers now?” he teased with a smile, and you bit back your own grin as he backed you into the wall of the house.
“Gimme a kiss,” he whispered, your breaths mingling in the close proximity, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest with every loud word or sudden movement from inside the house.
You shook your head. “Someone could come out any second.”
Steve pouted. “So?”
“So?” you repeated incredulously. “What if my dad sees?”
He gave you a sneaky grin, before dipping his head down to whisper into your ear, “I can handle your old man if that happens.”
You gave him a look, but no matter how much you tried convincing him it was a bad idea, he seemed to like said idea even more. 
“C’mon, please?”
You let out a heavy sigh, turning your head to the side, watching the door for a moment. Steve’s grin widened; he knew he won.
“You’re such an asshole, Steve,” you muttered, and grabbed his face in both your hands, pulling him toward you. 
Your lips met his, and again, you felt the same fireworks from last night. For a brief moment, you wondered what it would be like to kiss him all day, every day, and if the fireworks would be there each and every time. They probably would. 
Steve smiled against your lips, pushing you deeper against the wall, until you pulled away with a slight smack.
“That was for good luck,” you said breathlessly, and before he could blink, you pressed your lips to his again.
Pulling away, you let your hands rest on his chest as you smiled up at him. “And that was for the road.”
Footsteps thudded through the house, and you quickly pushed Steve away from you. He reassumed his previous position, leaning against the railing, and you decided you had no time to do anything but stay right where you were, leaning against the wall. 
Your eyes met his, and the blue in them glittered with mischief as he licked his lips. You took in a deep breath and tore your gaze away from him the very second your father stepped out onto the porch. 
“Ready to go, Cap?” he asked, and Steve gave him a low bow of his head.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
_______________
TAGLIST:
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onsunnyside · 2 years
Text
⋆⁺ ☁︎ 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝
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𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | nomad!Steve Rogers x reader
𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, soft!Steve, nomad!Steve, neighbours-to-lovers, smut: sexual content (blink and you’ll miss it), angst, the blip: implied/mentioned characters (& reader) getting blipped
𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | He’s a man on the run and you’re a chameleon soul, and if only things were as simple as they seem. 
𝗪/𝗖 | 4.56K
𝗔/𝗡 | I realized I hadn’t written any angst yet, and as someone with a guilty pleasure of angsty fics, I was appalled. This is an au of where steve went while he was on the run, set between CACW and/after AIW. Heavily inspired by Lana Del Rey’s Video Games, Lucky Ones, and Ride (& the monologue). All mistakes are my own. [all asks]
˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
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Everything surrounding you is mellow and comforting. The sun had long set, taking away those burning white rays, and leaving the humid summer air in its wake. You inhale once, and then again. 
Behind you, he shifts, his cotton shirt is smooth against your back, and his foot brushes yours. Heat radiates from his skin and it soothes you in ways that words can neven describe. 
Living like this feels like an art form itself, which only makes it ironic since you aren’t doing much at all. 
You wonder if you blink, you’d slip back into that drift. It wasn’t a place, no, it was everywhere and in everything—to you, it was a state of being. 
An inconsistent course of muted colours and blurred faces, forgettable names spoken in unique voices and memories that bounce between heavenly and awful. But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy those moments in that drift. 
You had always been a little wild at heart, and as you grew older, fewer and fewer things and people could keep you tamed, satisfied—still. 
That obsession for wonder and freedom sent your life into a spiral that has landed you in cities all over the world, with people of all kinds. In a way, they are with you now, all those experiences have brought you here, and someday, this moment will bring you to another. 
Hopefully, one with him. 
He didn’t like when you spoke like that though, he wanted you to know he’d always be there. Most times, you found yourself believing him, and other times you let his voice play over whatever tune was stuck in your head. 
Life was an open road, and him—he was a beautiful, vast garden on the side. And for the past year, you’ve been picking your collection of coloured petals to keep in your pocket. Every time you’d pick a flower, two more sprouts and, they’re always more intricate and stunning than the last. 
A large part of you wanted to stay here forever, to be with him until you’re old and grey, and it took a few months for you to admit that to him. Not because of pride or fear, but because of false hope. You didn’t want to plant seeds of faith into his heart, only to crush the seedlings with the tires of your motorcycle. 
“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.” 
You cocked a brow, lowly muttering his name, “Grant, if that isn’t a way to doom a relationship, I don’t know what is.” 
And he understood your hesitance, Steve was all too familiar with the style to up and run, hell, he did it for half a year before landing in this blip on a map. 
That’s where you were similar. Of course, for different reasons—ephemerality is woven into your soul, while his was the cause of a circumstance and the fact that he was a wanted fugitive. 
“—and postcards, lots of them,” Sam’s voice is equally excited and sorrowful, “and the nice ones, none of those crappy, flimsy ones that won’t survive the trip.” 
Natasha is different, there is a tinge of happiness in her green eyes but her face is serious, deadly even. “Keep in touch, and I mean it. Hide all you want, I will find you if I have to.” 
“You sure it won’t be the other way around?” Steve chuckled, embracing her tightly. “Something tells me you’ll both be off on a wild adventure soon… I hope you’ll tell me about it when we meet again.” 
That was over a year ago. And since then, he’s sent dozens of postcards to them, each with short descriptions of his life in point-form, never going into too much detail. His old phone was tucked into his nightstand, it was only for emergencies since he could still be tracked if the government tried. 
In this little town, life was good, simple with next to zero worries hovering over his head. Here is the sun was the most radiant. 
You were a true ghost, if Steve could call you that, but that also meant you were a clean slate. A fresh start that he’s craved so deeply, a new beginning that he deserved. 
You’ve been on the road for years and are a master hitchhiker, he knew that much. You’ve lost count of the miles, the places you’ve occupied and the souls you’ve met. You didn’t have a cellphone, a television, or read the newspaper. You had no clue who he was, what he’s done. 
Although, the long hair and thick beard were to thank for that cluelessness as well. 
No one in this town knew who he was, and with that, he was able to create someone new. Grant was someone untouched by the Avengers, the Accords and unscathed by any extraterrestrial existence. Just him. Only him. The sole performer and artist, creating his own story as he goes on. 
“You aren’t even looking at the clouds, Grant.”
“I am,” he answers, that charming grin growing wider by the second, “they’re in your eyes.” 
“I have clouds… in my eyes?” 
“Yeah, c’mere and let me see if I can make anything from it.” He’s quick to pull you closer, his hands cupping your face. His blue eyes sear into yours, so full of adoration that it makes your knees a little weak. 
You press your hands on his chest. There’s a faint thump beneath your fingertips, and it’s almost in time with yours. “See anything?” 
“Hm? What?” He blinks, those thick lashes fanning across his cheekbones. “Oh, just got a little lost, you know…” His finger hooks under your chin, bringing you closer, “…in the clouds.” Your lips meet in a soft, sweet kiss. 
The delicacy reels you in and silences those pessimistic voices, and now in the quiet, you follow willingly. 
You’ve been hurt before but Grant—dearest Grant could destroy you with a single sentence. The worst part is that you don’t have to tell him for him to know, he was well aware of the effect he had on you, the way you’d fold if he asked. It was a foreign feeling you had never felt before, and it scared you. 
You felt vulnerable with him despite the glass that has moulded to your skin, keeping you protected yet, within your own terms, exposed. 
And him, he’s only ever made you feel safe and secure with that openness. 
Blooming from that comfort, that freedom to mess up, be understood and be forgiven, is love. With stupid absolute, you’ve fallen in love with him. 
Yet you don’t even know his real name. To you and this town, he’s Grant, to the rest of the world and planets in far places, he’s Steve Rogers. 
“What’s got you actin’ so sweet today? Have you done anything that you suddenly regret?” You ask with a slight glare but there’s no heat behind it, nor your question. 
“I may have forgotten to load the dishwasher before coming here… also think I forgot my ID, so if we get pulled over, you’ve got to do the talking.”
“Oh, as if Marco gives a crap about us all the way up here.” You turn away again, leaning on Steve who was sitting on the hood of his car. Below the cliffside is one of the smallest towns you’ve ever seen. 
With a population in the low hundreds, one local school, bar and extremely limited contact with the rest of the world, it was a stark contrast to the big, sparkling cities you’ve experienced. 
Definitely not stellar.
“Ugh, this town fucking sucks. It makes me wonder why I even stayed this long—not like anything is keeping me here anyway. No hot steamy year-long romance to keep me tied down.” 
Steve laughs sarcastically, pinching your hip. “Ha, ha, baby, you ever think of doing stand-up?”
“Yeah, I’ve dreamt of it,” you play along as your head sinks into the crook of his shoulder, “but I think I’ll stick to my one-woman show at Jerry’s dingy bar.” 
As if you could call it a show, it was more like grabbing the microphone between shifts and singing whatever new song the live band had learnt. 
Over the years, you’ve picked up odd jobs in whichever city you landed in, and as for performing, you’ve done it before in motels, restaurants, and bars. Never staying too long to create a name for yourself, rather just leaving out of the blue like a fleeting moment, a fever dream to the citizens. 
At the beginning of your journey and by your fifth city, you realized that temporariness fuelled that insatiable hunger for freedom. 
Looking back, you acknowledge the variety of taste, colour, and sound. In that state of being, in that drift, you are truly alone because you are lost in it, and being without yourself within yourself is a scary thing. It’s something you’re all too familiar with from being on the road for so long. 
“You just belong everywhere, huh?” Grant asked in awe at your endless array of stories from travelling the world, “Like a chameleon—you stay all the same, but change just enough to blend into wherever you are.” 
“You talk about it like it’s a talent.”
“It is.” He sat up straight, running a hand through his hair. “Not everyone can survive anywhere at any time—let alone, be happy and thrive from it.” 
You’ve always searched for a home, often making do with the kindness of strangers, but when you met Steve there was nothing else that could compare. 
Being alone once is enough, and meeting new souls is magical but being in his arms for a few moments is unrivalled. 
You loved that freedom, but you loved Grant—Steve more. Your commitment to him has stretched to a year, and despite becoming a recognizable face in this town, you don’t want to leave without him. 
You’ve spoken about skipping town someday, you want to show him your favourite cities, and hopefully meet up with those kind strangers who have helped you in more ways than one, some of which you only know the first name of. 
“We’ll always have tomorrow to decide.” You closed his notebook, ending his pros and cons list of travelling further East versus going up North. “And if we still can’t choose tomorrow, then we have the next day and the day after that. This free lifestyle doesn’t come with itineraries, Grant. When will you get that through your pretty head?”
Infinite time meant your obsession will never go unfulfilled—which also meant an infinite amount of time together, and endless chances to show Grant everything you want. 
That’s the difference between the two of you. 
You believe there is a tomorrow, there will be another opportunity to hold him like this, to feel his breath on your lips. 
Steve knows different.
You live in the land of tomorrow while Steve lives in the present.
His bag is packed, his suit is laid out on the lumpy mattress and his plants have already been given to Mr. Carter who lives down the street, a kind old man who took them with a joyous grin. 
“I knew it, you kids are finally getting out of here while you can.” 
Kids, as if Steve wasn’t over a hundred years old. 
Mr. Carter brought Steve in for a weak hug, his fragile bones only allowing so much. When he pulls away, his wrinkled hands gently cradle the potted plants. “Wish I was as wild as her. If I were young like you, I’d do the same thing,” he trailed off, pushing his glasses up his nose, “You are both lucky to do it together.”
Steve didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth and just nodded. “Yeah, luck.”
He hasn’t given up on you, nor what the both of you can create together. He’s postponing it—setting it in a box and stuffing it under his bed, he’ll be back for it, and for you. He’ll return once the world is repaired and he can finally formally retire. 
Is it worth it to break his own heart, to break you, to protect the entire universe? 
“Grant? What’s wrong?” 
Steve is quick to make up a lame excuse of being tired because, of course, he can’t tell you. 
He’s bitter about it—god, he’s allowed to be selfish sometimes. He’s given his life to the world and to the people who inhabit it, he doesn’t regret that but you, he’s been selfish for the past year by keeping you tucked away. 
Not even Natasha and Sam know the details, all they know is that he found a reason to stay in the shittiest little town on the planet. 
When his phone rang, he was surprised to hear Bruce, half-expecting and half-hoping for it to be Tony. 
It didn’t take long for him to get into that mindset again, to be the captain that everyone needed. First on his list was to meet Natasha and Sam, they probably already know what happened in New York while you and this town couldn’t be more clueless. 
That’s why he loved it here. 
He wanted to take you with him, but he couldn’t consciously put you in danger. He was fortunate enough to be unrecognizable in this place and he can only imagine the shock when you realize who he really is. 
You didn’t even know his last name, he was just Grant, the man who moved in next door and had accidentally got your mail one too many times.
He tried to drop it off one afternoon but you never answered, so he scrapped the idea of respectful introductions and slipped it under your door. This went on for a few weeks, he learnt a bit about you—your name, and how you had plenty of friends from so many different places. 
It made him wonder why you chose a town so tiny it fits into the palm of his hand. 
One day, the yellow door swung open. You were standing there in an oversized t-shirt with a mug in your hand, “So it’s you.”
“Uh, yes?” He answers awkwardly, ducking under his cap as a force of habit. He’s been in town for over a month, yet no one has recognized him yet. A random stroke of luck. “I live next door, I keep getting your mail.”
“Paula is just getting up there with age, I don’t think she can read as well as before.” You take the envelopes, skimming through them before tossing them on the counter. 
His gaze drags over your features, your hair and eyes, he takes notice of the sunlight shining around you like liquid gold. Okay, maybe he needs more friends if his heart is racing at the sight of a pretty woman. 
“Why don’t you answer your door?”
“Heavy sleeper.” You yawn, “I work nights at the motel, and come back and sleep all day.”
“Oh,” when he realizes he’s still on his knees at your door, he quickly stands, dusting his jeans, “I’m—” Steve, “Grant, I’m Grant, it’s nice to finally meet you.” 
You look between his face and his outstretched hand, a slow smile crawling onto your lips. You introduce yourself, shaking his hand. “I’ll tell Paula about the mail, hopefully, it won’t happen again.” 
And when your door shut, he couldn’t help but hope it did. 
The next time you met, it was because of a local stray cat. 
It was the fourth night in a row that Steve was sitting on the park bench outside the apartment complex. The can of cat food sitting next to him, opened as the smell wafted to his nose. He taps his foot on the ground, checking his watch. 
Then, the lobby door opens and you walk out, this time in a loose dress with a leash in your hand, and a familiar little animal by your side. Suddenly, that cat darts to the left. 
“Inky, hey! Calm down!” The harness slips from your hand, making you jerk to the side and nearly lose your shoe in a jagged slab of concrete. 
Inky? Steve doesn’t have a chance to question the name before the stray springs onto his lap, nudging his hand before finding delight in the canned food. “Hi, Rocky, how have you been, fella?”
You stumble in front of him, an apology on your lips before you notice that baseball cap atop long, blond hair. 
“So it’s you again.” You squint down at him, “he’s supposed to be on a diet.” 
Steve’s brows furrow, “what?” 
“I thought he was getting a little thicker, and it’s because of you.” You crouch down beside the bench, untangling the leash from his stubby legs. “I’ve been feeding this guy for weeks, I noticed easily.” 
“He’s a stray.”
“Not anymore, I adopted him.” You correct, “really recently actually.”
“But I’ve been feeding him since I got here.” Steve frowns, leaving out the fact that he’s also told many secrets to the animal, enough to even rival Bucky’s knowledge. “He’s—his name is Rocky.” 
“Inky.” You sit next to him, reaching over to pet the cat, rubbing between his ears, one of them missing the tip. “I guess I can't take away your only friend…”
“I have friends.” Steve is quick to reply. 
“In this town?” You ask skeptical, “I’ve never seen you leave your apartment, and no one else knows anything about you.” 
That sparks his interest. “You asked about me?” He smiles, pink lips drew into a grin. 
Your eyes widen before you turn away, and an odd bubbly feeling fills your stomach. You clear your throat, “Anyway, I suppose we can work out an arrangement, co-parenting this little thing can’t be that hard.” 
You both decide on Inky spending weekends at Steve’s place, and somehow those rotating weeks turned into dinner invites that bled into nights on your couch, talking about yourselves and nonsense. 
And soon he was walking into your apartment unannounced, making you dinner before you woke up to go to the motel, and later, he’d be there when you returned in the early hours, sleeping on the couch with Inky on his chest. 
Your first kiss was on that very bench too. You took Inky (or Rocky) to watch the sunrise on one of your days off, and Steve couldn’t look away from you. 
He likes to think that he made the first move, but he knows that’s wrong. 
You leaned your head on his shoulder, intertwining your fingers before peering up at him with those soft, tired eyes. When your lips met, it was like everything had suddenly made sense—the steady growth from neighbours to friends, then to kissing on the park bench at seven in the morning. 
It only made it harder to leave you. 
At least Steve knows that in every lifetime, he’d choose you. 
In a way, he believes he has met you a million times and yet this is the one when he becomes aware of it. 
“It would be an honour to be heartbroken by you.” 
What an honour it would be—but that could be his inner masochist speaking. 
In those million times, he’s chosen you every chance, and that little voice of doubt asks if you chose him too—or if he just got lucky this time. 
Of course, you did, you’ve told him every day. In different ways, quiet ways, by waking him up with a massage, dancing with him in the kitchen, and sitting still for hours while he sketched you. 
Steve didn’t work, his excuse was a hearty inheritance from his family, but in truth, he had a few duffel bags filled with cash that he withdrew before going on the run. Being in this town for a year has barely made a dent in it, and he can see himself spending days on end here, with you, and with Rocky. 
Everything he’s going to do is for the long run, so he can come back and hold you in his arms, bathe in your glow and feel it igniting his cells. There’s nothing like it, like being with you. 
He almost hesitates when getting into his rental, his hair falling into his face as he stares at your opened windows, the breeze flutters your curtains. 
You got back from work a few hours ago, your final moments together were spent in the bathtub as he had you once last time, touching and feeling you against his skin. Then, he carried you to bed, memorizing every inch of your face before he cooked you dinner for when you woke up, alone. 
He’s left you the keys to his car, placed the duffel bags outside your bedroom and the letter on your nightstand. Rocky was following him around until he shut the front door, locking it and sliding the key into his pocket. He could hear his quiet meows through the wood, alternating between pleading and curious, as if he were asking, “Where are you going? Why are you leaving” 
The blistering heat is going to be cruel the next few days and he fixed your air conditioner the previous night, but you won’t know until you read the letter. 
Right now, he doesn’t even know what it was. An apology, or a promise, it felt cowardly if anything—could it be his final words? Not the last one, he dreads that sheet of paper being the last piece of him in your life. 
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When Steve returns to the town, his confidence in the dry dirt, and any resilience is swept away with the snap of golden fingers. Natasha nearly flew straight over it, mistaking it for being a ghost town. 
After getting off the jet, reality settles in. Less than half of the inhabitants remain, and he’s only spotted a handful, all wearing matching expressions of confusion and despair. 
He races up to your apartment, shouting your name and banging on the door but he receives no reply. 
As if the world had been sucked of colour, the yellow of your door isn’t as fresh as he remembers. The corners are crackling, and more importantly, the doorknob is different. 
The key he’s guarded feels heavy, and all of sudden, his chest constricts. The air is thin, barely supplying enough for him to stay upright before he braces himself on the doorframe. God, even the smell is different—it doesn’t feel the same, it feels off. 
That impurity wraps around his ankles, yanking him into the darkness and he reaches for something, anything, which happens to be the tattered welcome mat under his feet. The new key is shiney, gleaming up at him like a cruel reminder of how much he truly hurt you. 
He almost thinks you left too. Abandoned this town because your voracious appetite for freedom won again, and there wasn’t anything left for you here so you went to search somewhere else. 
This town was in your past, just like the rest. 
But no, this is far worse. This is a nightmare. 
There’s a cellphone on the couch, and an old television on your coffee table, the price tag still stuck to the side and it’s on, it plays reruns of the news from a neighbouring city, it’s fuzzy and full of static but he can make out the headline. 
“Billions of Mysterious Disappearances Worldwide.” 
Half of the world, half of the universe is gone. They lost. 
He forces himself to look away, wiping the tears from his eyes to focus on something else. Despite the new devices, the duffel bags are still sitting untouched, unopened and full. 
The dishes are left in the sink, trash is in the bin, and the windows are closed with the dull hum of the air conditioner filling the room. 
Then, he spots the half-empty glass of water on the table, the condensation dripping onto the wooden surface. 
Tentatively, he calls your name once more. He’s in denial, the syllables hammering into his head as he waits for you to answer—for you to appear in disbelief as he stands in your living room, dressed in a dirty navy uniform with a cut above his brow, and blood on the corner of his mouth. 
Steve waits and waits until the final plane of glass beneath his feet breaks, and with that, his heart falls into the depths. It crashes into the ground, lying in a bed of memories and anguish. 
He sinks into the couch, clenching his gloved fists, the television fades away as his final string of hope is severed. 
First Bucky, then Sam, and now you. 
Your apartment is empty, void of any life, or so he thinks before he hears quiet patters on the hardwood before a small, furry creature enters his view. 
His right ear is missing the tip, his eyes glow with interest before he darts towards Steve, leaping onto his lap. He holds that cat like he’s a lifeline, burying his nose into his fur, soaking the coat with more tears. 
There’s a collar around his neck, Inky/Rocky is carved into the metal plate, along with your address. 
There are footsteps in the hall, then Natasha is standing at the door, holding her hip with a pinched expression. She has dried blood on her cheeks, and her blonde hair is messy. 
They rushed here, barely having time to collect themselves before Steve was madly hunting for a jet. Right now, she didn’t have to ask any questions to know the answer. Her green eyes survey your apartment, the signs of your abrupt disappearance are all too obvious. 
There are only a few picture frames hooked on the walls, but all of them have Steve and you, a few even have that little cat too. Steve looks happy in those frozen moments in time, smiling so casually while always touching you—you’re in his lap, under his arm, or pressed against him until not a sliver of air is between the both of you. 
To her, this apartment feels homey, no temporary pressure hangs over, just potential. Something planned but not to the book, a simple promise for more. 
If she had to name it, she’d pick the word tomorrow. 
There was going to be more here, or there was going to be more that came from here. Whether it moved to another place, there was going to be more, that was definite. 
And meeting Steve’s eyes, she knows she’s correct in more ways than one. “I’m sorry, Steve.” 
He knows, and he is too, but not for himself.
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𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: and there we go !! wrote most of this one night while listening to Lana and i’m very proud of how it ended out, i haven’t written much angst here yet so here’s to the future !! And of course, free to send asks about this fic !!
As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3
I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲
1K notes · View notes
avengerscompound · 4 months
Text
The Interview - Chapter 1
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The Interview - A Captain America Fanfic
Masterlist
Rating:  E
Warnings:  On the series; smut, family trauma, bad workplaces  On this chapter; sexual innuendo
Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Melody Danes
Word Count:  3109
Summary:  Melody Danes gets the break of a lifetime when as a lowly intern, she’s assigned to write a profile piece on Captain America.  Steve Rogers is a hard man not to fall for and as she and Melody get closer and Melody’s career takes off, jealousy leads to sabotage, and the potential to bring her whole world crashing down.
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Chapter 1
It was the dream life.  An apartment on the upper west side of New York, located in a beautiful old brownstone.  A career in journalism.  Getting to interview an actual Avenger.  When Melody Danes boiled down her life to its bones, it was exactly how she had planned it out.
Of course, that did ignore some pretty glaring oversights.  Like how she actually had two jobs.  The journalist position was an underpaid internship that barely covered food let alone rent and bills.  Or that the internship was with the Daily Bugle, one of the most despicable publications in the world, with the worst boss she had ever worked for.  Or how she lived with her cousin in a one-bedroom apartment, because neither of them could afford anything bigger in the city - even with Bobbi working three jobs.  Something that left Melody relegated to a bed that was walled off from the rest of the living room with bamboo screens, while Bobbi got the bedroom because she paid the bigger portion of the rent.  Or the fact that the apartment itself was a shit hole that had unreliable plumbing, heat, and super to fix anything.
Still, she didn’t like to complain.  She was in New York, the city she’d dreamed about living in her whole life.  Plus, there were worse roommates than Bobbi.  Melody and Bobbi had grown up in the same small town in Oregon.  They weren’t technically even cousins, but rather the children of best friends who had been born a few months apart.  The two ‘cousins’ had grown up together being subjected to years and years of taunting about when the two would get married, and constant mentions of Bobbi being Melody’s boyfriend despite the fact Melody had always seen Bobbi more as a sibling than a potential romantic partner.
Of course, back then Bobbi had been known as Roberto.  Interestingly, as soon as she’d transitioned, all jokes about Mr. and Mrs. Rodriguez had stopped immediately because suddenly, it wasn't only Melody and Bobbi being made to feel uncomfortable but their parents as well.
The two had remained close throughout everything and had made the promise that they would support each other to get their dreams realized.  Melody’s dream of being a journalist or author, and Bobbi’s of acting.  Yes, there were occasional disagreements that popped up stemming from sharing such a small space, but through it all they’d held on to that support.
That was why, when Melody had come home freaking out about the fact she was going to interview the Captain America - and not just for a short piece, but an in-depth personality profile over a week, Bobbi was the first one to congratulate her.  She then brought all her friends from her job at the dinner theatre to help find her something to wear.
It was why she was now headed down East 45th in heels that were a little too big and a pantsuit that was a little flashier than she would have liked, looking for the Comfort Diner.
Despite being a little wobbly on her feet, she felt good.  Nervous.  Excited.  But good.  The pantsuit did make her look professional, and her friends had done her hair so her black curls were pinned back in an almost 1920s-style wave that was folded over in a loop at the nape of her neck.  Her makeup was immaculate and her copper complexion gave off an almost glow in the light.  More importantly, this interview was her golden ticket.  It wasn’t even supposed to be Melody that got this interview.  The person who was originally assigned to it had written one too many scathing think pieces about the Avengers. She’d been told neither Captain Rogers nor any of the other Avengers were willing to talk to her anymore.  A quick scramble through the other reporters had only brought back people who were either in the middle of assignments or were equally loathed by the Avengers and so they had handed it to the intern with the most promise.  Melody Danes.
As she made her way down the street, her heel caught in a crack in the pavement. It was just a brief catch, but given her shoes were the wrong size it caused her to stumble forward directly into a huge wall of muscle.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” the wall said as it steadied her with large hands.
She was about to answer that ‘she was until some stranger called her ma’am’ when she looked up into the clear blue eyes of Captain America, and the words caught in her throat.
He was somehow even more attractive in person.  He had a broad chest and muscular arms that seemed to be testing the tensile strength of his shirt as he supported her.
That was not what drew her attention most.  His face held her captivated.  His skin was flawless, his pores so small they almost looked airbrushed out, and his complexion was the color of peaches and cream.  He had a square jaw and a straight, narrow nose that both exuded masculinity. Yet, his high cheekbones, full lips, and long dark eyelashes were all beautifully feminine.  All this paired with the pale blue of his eyes and for a moment she was lost for words.
“I’m fine,” she said when her brain finally kicked into place again.  “Embarrassed mostly.  I’m actually going to meet you for lunch.”
“You’re the one from the Bugle?” Steve asked, his tone giving away his surprise.
“That’s right,” she said, straightening herself out.  She offered him her hand.  “I’m Melody Dane from DB.  Is that okay?”
“Of course,” Steve replied, shaking her hand.  “I guess you just weren’t what I expected.”
The two began making their way to the diner together, both still staring at each other.
“What were you expecting?” she asked.
Steve shrugged.  “I don’t know, to be honest.  A trilby with a press pass sticking out of it?”
She started laughing.  “I’ll wear one next time.  Though I do have my press pass here if you’d like me to stick it in my hair or something.”
Steve’s laughter joined her and he shook his head.  “That’s okay.  You can keep it in your purse.”
They entered the cute little 50s-style diner and took one of the booths up the back.  The greeter set them up with menus and left to get their drinks while they decided what they wanted.  She set up her recorder and notepad on the table.
“So, I’m not sure what it is you were after,” Steve said as his eyes flicked over the menu.  “The Bugle is always just investigative reporting, and if I’m honest, they don’t do a great job investigating.”
She laughed.  “You’re telling me,” she said.  “It’s barely above a tabloid magazine.  It runs on sensationalism.  But with the way that the internet is affecting print media, they’re trying to branch out into different things.  This is technically a profile piece for a yet-to-be-named magazine.  They want a story about the man behind the shield.  I’ll come talk to you a few times over the next week.  We’re going to do a little tour of Brooklyn so you can tell me how it’s changed.  Other than that, whatever access you’re willing to give me, the better I can craft the article.  I’m not here to make you look bad.  We just want a piece that shows the world that there’s more to you than a flag.”
“How does that fit in with Jameson’s whole superhero menace thing he does?  I mean, this was going to be conducted by Norah Winters, right?  She’s not exactly our biggest fan either?” Steve asked.
“I’m not Norah Winters,” Melody said.  “Norah Winters couldn’t even get you to agree to sit down with her.  I’m hoping that the fact they chose me after running through just about everyone else in the paper, might allow for some room to grow trust.”
Steve nodded and poured himself a glass of water. “Okay.  Well, I’m here.  I guess we’ll see how we go.”
“My first question is; why did you want me to meet you here?  You were asleep for the 1950s, so it can’t be a nostalgia thing,” she asked.
“Honestly?  I’ve never actually been here before,” Steve said.  “I just wanted somewhere that wasn’t intruding on my space, that was relaxed enough that I didn’t feel like I was on display.”
“Do you often feel on display?” she asked.
“All the time,” he said.  “Since the day I was given the serum.  It’s part of the job.  There are people out there who are okay just saving the day and slinking back into the shadows, but what I do - or at least what I hope I’m doing - is giving people someone to rally behind.  It means that I draw attention to myself and I have to make sure that what I believe in is stated clearly or people use me as a symbol of oppression.  It means that I need to teach with actions, not words.”
The waitress came over with the drinks and Melody and Steve placed their orders.  She opted for the soup and sandwich, while Steve went for the steak.
When she was alone again, she took a sip of her coffee and watched Steve toy with his cup. The white branded mug looked tiny in his hands.  “Does that get hard?” she asked.  “Being on all the time.  I mean no one is perfect.”
He nodded.  “But I hope what I do helps in some way.  Not just the obvious ones where I save lives because of an alien attack.  But maybe if people see that I am standing up for people, they might do it too.  I mean - I wasn't always this-” he gestured vaguely to himself.  “I was this tiny guy with a huge list of medical conditions….”
“I did read that list,” she said.  She’d done her research coming into this.  She’d known Steve Rogers had been marked 4F several times and that the list of his medical conditions was as long as her arm.  “People always seem to always focus on the asthma, but some of those conditions are debilitating.”
Steve nodded.  “I was a perpetual letdown for my father.  All he wanted was a good strong son who could follow in his footsteps, but what he got was a sick kid they didn’t expect would make it to adulthood,” he explained.  “The ulcers paired with the anemia were the worst.  I had to eat a pound of raw liver a day but I was constantly throwing up or having heartburn.  You're right, there were a lot of conditions but those two were the worst.  It’s given me a weird relationship with food now.”
She was surprised by how open he was.  She’d expected him to be a little more closed off this early on and yet, he was freely sharing details about the trouble he had growing up.  “What do you mean by that?”
The waiter chose that moment to bring over their meals.  Steve looked down at the steak in front of him.  “Well, take this,” he said.  “Steak is fine.  But is it what I wanted?  I’m not even sure.  I chose it because it looked like it was the best combination of protein and carbohydrates to get me through until dinner.  The serum has made it so I burn through calories so fast, so if I eat something like pancakes or pie, I end up having a crash an hour or so later.  And I can’t have that because it means I have to eat again.  And for a guy who grew up through the great depression with medical conditions that made it so that he had to eat pounds of raw meat that I’d just end up throwing up - well I can’t take constantly eating throughout the day.”
Her heart broke for him and she had to resist the urge to reach over the table and take his hand.  “So what you’re saying is, you really wished you’d ordered pancakes?”
He gave a little side nod.  “Kinda, yeah,” he said.  “But even acknowledging that out loud - I will still just eat this steak.  But I’ll feel uncomfortable eating in front of you because you’re a stranger, even though I need it to get through the rest of the day.”
She nodded in understanding.  The burden of trauma was a hard thing to shake.  Even if you were a superhero.  “That really does suck.  I do understand it though.  It’s hard to retrain yourself.  In fact, if you figure out how to do it, let me know.”
He smiled at her and began to cut his steak.  She took a moment to take a bite from her sandwich.  It was surprisingly good for something from a diner and she couldn’t help the soft hum that escaped her lips.  “I don’t want you to have to dwell too much on your illnesses if you don’t want to - but I do have one more specific question about it.  Is it true they used to treat asthma with cigarettes back then?”
Steve laughed.  “They used to treat lots of things with cigarettes,” he said.  “The asthma ones weren’t usually tobacco cigarettes mind you.  Not that they were necessarily better than tobacco ones.  If memory serves me arsenic and belladonna were some key ingredients used.  They also told my mom to give them to me for the scoliosis and heart palpitations.  But they played havoc on my stomach. They also told me I should drink a lot of coffee.”
She shook her head in disbelief.  “You ever wonder what the things we all accept as true now will be looked at as being completely crazy in the future?”
Steve thought for a moment and when he spoke it was almost like he was talking to himself.  “Circumcision.”
She nearly choked on her soup, which made Steve laugh and lean over, patting her on the back.  “I’m sorry.  It was the first thing that popped into my head.  I mean - that wasn’t even something people did much out of religious reasons back in my day.”
“You’re totally right.  They brought it in in the fifties to stop men masturbating, but I wasn’t expecting Captain America to bring up circumcision,” she said, still laughing.
“I’m so sorry,’ Steve said again.  “God - I can’t believe I did that.” 
“It’s fine,” she giggled. “Seriously.  Oh man…”
Steve ran his hand down his face.  “I will say this though,” he said.  “Even after all this time with the serum, I still feel like I’m that guy.  I still feel like that 95-pound piece of chewed bubblegum.  I still remember every time I got beaten by some bully trying to keep me down and I still remember getting up, because my mom always said you keep getting up or they win.  I still go into every battle remembering that and holding it with me, because I know what it’s like to have someone try and use their strength to keep me down and I don’t want anyone else to have to go through that.”
She nodded and wrote the quote ‘I still feel like that 95-pound piece of chewed up bubblegum’ into her notebook.  “What did it feel like when you changed?”
“It was really sudden.  I went into this thing that was like a metal coffin and pumped full of these drugs while they irradiated me.  The process was excruciatingly painful.  I started changing right away.  It felt like I was being stretched out in all directions.  Then it stopped and the pain stopped with it.  And not just the pain of the change.  All my pain.  My stomach didn’t hurt.  My chest didn’t hurt.  I didn’t have pain in my back.  When I took a breath it went in easily and filled my lungs.  And then on top of the very noticeable lack of pain, I had other things, like my heart didn’t feel like it was racing for a change.  I could see colors properly.  I don’t even think I could describe what that was like.  And all of it mixed together …” he trailed off and shook his head.  “I apologize, I’m going to be crass again and I hope that you might do me the favor by paraphrasing this, so I don’t sound like some kind of pervert, but it was like that feeling you have when you orgasm, only magnified by a hundred.” 
“Wow,” she said and took a large bite from his sandwich.  She chewed it thoughtfully as she tried to imagine how extreme that would feel.  “That’s something.”
He nodded. “It’s a shame that they lost the formula.  I mean - I know having a bunch of rogue super-soldiers out in the world isn’t necessarily a good thing, but if there was a way you could cure disease as easily as that still out in the world, imagine how far we would have come by now?”
She nodded.  “It would have been an impressive piece of medical science.  And it would be a very different world where no one had to worry about illness.”
They both sat quietly in thought for a moment as they ate. “So,” she said, finally breaking the silence.  “I said before, we wanted to get to know the man behind the shield, and I’m certainly hoping I get to know the real Steve Rogers doing this, but do you think there’s a difference between Steve Rogers and Captain America?”
“Of course,” Steve answered quickly.  “I think that’s true for everyone, right?  I’m sure you sitting there interviewing me isn’t the same person you are when you’re home with your family or out with your friends.  Knowing the publication you work for, I’m sure it’s not even the same person you are in the office.  We put different aspects of ourselves forward all the time.  If you’re asking where the divide between Steve Rogers and Captain America is - I’m not sure.  I’ve put so much of myself into this for so long… I don’t know who I am without it.  I know I’d always want to stand up and fight for what I believe in.  I know I’d always want to stand up for the little guys.  But aside from that… I couldn’t say.”
She frowned a little.  “I guess I can see how that could happen,” she said.  Though the admission made her realize something, article or no article, she wanted to find out who Steve Rogers was for his sake as much as how drawn to him she already was.
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